#we are waiting for each and every one of you

[astrologydray]

how each Moon sign really acts when they catch feelings

🔥 Fire Moons (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius) – “Too Hot to Handle”

🔥 Aries Moon – Catches feelings like they’re catching a flight—immediate and full speed ahead. Will text first, show off, and initiate plans within five minutes of realizing they like you. If you play hard to get, they’ll get frustrated but secretly love the chase. Might accidentally scare you off by saying “I like you” too soon, then ghosting to regain their power.

🔥 Leo Moon – Starts acting like the main character whenever their crush is around. Will lowkey flex their achievements, dress their best, and drop hints about how many people want them (but they only have eyes for you). If you don’t gas them up, they’ll act so unbothered but will die inside waiting for your attention.

🔥 Sagittarius Moon – Pretends they don’t care, but you’ll catch them talking about you nonstop. Will flirt shamelessly, send unhinged memes, and suggest spontaneous trips or adventures (”We should totally get lost in another city together”). If they start overthinking or acting nervous, just know they’re down bad.

🌍 Earth Moons (Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn) – “Slow Burn or Nothing”

🌍 Taurus Moon – Acts normal on the outside but is already imagining cuddling with you in a cabin with scented candles and matching pajamas. Will observe you for weeks before making a move. Once they start cooking for you or sending “Did you eat?” texts, it’s over—you’re theirs.

🌍 Virgo Moon – Analyzes the hell out of their feelings and yours. Reads into every text like it’s a conspiracy theory. Will start fixing your life as an excuse to be around—helping you organize, sending you self-improvement tips, or reminding you to stay hydrated. If they start playfully judging your bad habits, just know they’re in love.

🌍 Capricorn Moon – Keeps their feelings under lock and key but will start showing up for you in practical ways. Will make sure you’re safe, send you career advice, and randomly buy you things you mentioned once (“I noticed you like this brand, so I got it for you”). If they let their guard down emotionally, you’ve unlocked a rare achievement.

💨 Air Moons (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius) – “Flirting or Just Existing?”

💨 Gemini Moon – Spams your notifications with memes, random facts, and ”haha this reminded me of you” texts. Will find excuses to talk to you ALL DAY. If they suddenly go silent or act distant, they either like you a little too much and are freaking out or got distracted by another crush for five seconds.

💨 Libra Moon – Starts romanticizing your whole existence and lowkey stalking your socials to figure out your aesthetic. Will flirt with you subtly and test your interest before making a move. If you’re too slow, they’ll start acting uninterested just to regain the upper hand—but if you flirt back, they’ll MELT.

💨 Aquarius Moon – Gets weirder around you. If they start sending you deep philosophical thoughts at 2 AM or randomly trauma-dumping in a way that makes no sense—congrats, they like you. Will act detached, but inside they’re spiraling, wondering if you’re “The One.” If they start saying “You’re not like other people”, RUN—they’re already planning your future together.

🌊 Water Moons (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces) – “Emotionally Unstable (In a Cute Way)”

🌊 Cancer Moon – Catches feelings like a 2000s rom-com protagonist—deeply, dramatically, and with a hint of delusion. Will make playlists about you, stare at your texts like they hold the secrets of the universe, and secretly get upset if you take too long to reply. If they start randomly bringing up childhood stories, they’re trying to bond with you for life.

🌊 Scorpio Moon – Acts completely normal on the surface but is secretly OBSESSED. Will watch you like a detective gathering evidence. Will test you by pulling back to see if you chase them (if you do, they’ll fall even harder). Once they’re in, they’re ALL in—ride or die, no in-between.

🌊 Pisces Moon – Catches feelings before anything even happens. Already daydreaming about holding hands in the rain before you’ve even had a real conversation. Will drop hints through music, poetry, or vague Instagram stories and hope you just know. If they start being extra shy or spacing out around you, they’re picturing your wedding.

[monzabee]

Ok so this is my first time requesting so sorry if it’s not like to detailed but I’d say like a story where you and Lando live together and you eventually start liking each other but he doesn’t know you like him and like you see him and a girl and immediately like “omg he does NOT like me😔” so you go with your friend like to a bar or club not sure and meet someone(could be Charles or Carlos)

And the you end up liking him and then he takes you to your house and Lando is waiting for you and then sees (one of them) and then gets upset and starts asking like were have you been blah blah .Then you eventually say you liked him but you know it didn’t if he had liked someone else and then he’s like no I liked you and then it comes to a fluff or angst ending.(again I’m sorry first time requesting 😭❗️

the roommate experiment – ln4

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Lando doesn’t like his roommate, not one bit—this is a complete lie.  

Pairing: lando norris x reader

Word Count:  3.8k

Warnings: fluff, arguing (a lot), feeelings, jealous, i can’t remember but maybe cursing?  

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! let me tell you one thing—this fic is VINTAGE at this point, and i'm not even kidding😭 this took me a very long time to finish, and it was a journey, and i do apologise for that, but hey—at least it’s here!!! let's all celebrate some good vibes for lando norris who is leading the championship, and hopefully i can get through rest of the requests on my list. i hope you guys enjoy and feedback is always appreciated. also, my requests are open! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

One second Lando is on the podium in Miami, getting his first win, being absolutely on top of the world and partying until he doesn’t remember his name. Then, suddenly, he is back in his apartment in Monte Carlo, his mother sitting on the couch beside him as she explains how the daughter of a close family friend will be staying him for the foreseeable future. He thinks, for a moment, whether he is still hungover or not, or maybe he’s dreaming, because there is absolutely no way he’s going to be sharing his apartment with you. 

“Absolutely not,” he shakes his head, hands cutting through the air to emphasise his point. “Why am I the one stuck with her? She’s not a child.” 

“I’m not saying she’s a child,” his mother points out, “I’m saying that she needs a place to stay during her internship, and you have an extra room. She’s your friend, Lando, stop acting like you don’t like her.”  

With a finger pointed at his mother, “I’m not saying I don’t like her,” Lando explains, “all I’m saying is that I don’t think either of us could be fine with living each other. You saw the last time we had an argument; do you want it to be like that every single day?” 

No, she thinks, I absolutely do not, as his mother thinks of the thrashed-up villa that your families had rented out for a holiday and shakes her head to get rid of the imagine. “Well, she’s coming, so be nice to her and try not to obliterate your apartment, darling.” 

“Mum, I just won my first race, is this how you want me the remember the best day of my life ending its high?” Lando tilts his head, giving his mom the best puppy eyes he can.  

He thinks for a second that he manages to get through her, but then, she straightens up, gives him a small kiss on the forehead and starts walking through the door as she yells, “Don’t forget to bring out the guest towels!” 

And as he slumps down onto the couch, his mind goes back to the fact that just over twenty-four hours ago, he was back in Miami, partying after his first win. 

Staying at Lando’s apartment in Monte Carlo wasn’t your first, second or last choice for an accommodation if you’re being a hundred percent honest. Alas, you find yourself at his apartment, bags in hand, busy returning the look of disdain behind his mother’s back to match the look he gives you himself. She has somehow convinced your mother, who practically forced you to take her gracious offer, that this is a good idea. “You’ll get along splendidly,” she assures you all, including herself, “you are not little kids who fight because of everything anymore.”  

Oh, little did she know. 

The first hour you’re there, Lando makes a point of complaining of how many boxes you have, as if you were not in the process of moving your entire life to another country, and that you are to, under any circumstances, display any of your ‘girly’ things out in his ‘bachelor pad’. You decide to take the high road with that second one and opt for an eyeroll as you drag your suitcase into your room to unpack. The look he gives you behind your back? Priceless. And you only know how he looks because of the strategically placed mirrors he has on the corridor.  

After a couple of hours, he throws a fuss because you’ve decided to order food. “I’m an athlete,” he points out. “You can’t just order food whenever you want around here.”  

You try taking the high road, you really do, but how can you not egg him on when he is acting like such a petulant child?  

The second argument occurs when Lando has a few friends over a couple of days later, and you wander into the kitchen in your loungewear—which doesn’t make any sense, because you can’t see what’s so scandalous about a pair of shorts and a tank top, but he insists that you cannot be hanging around his friend wearing ‘almost nothing’. You point out that his complaining within itself contradictory because if you are wearing something, then you cannot be wearing almost nothing. He leaves the living room, stomping on his way back to his room, you count it as another argument won. Your mother loses it when you tell her that you’re going to start looking for a place to move out, also reminding her of the fact that living with Lando was supposed to be temporary anyway, but she’s having none of it. 

“Temporary or not, you promised to stick it out until your internship ends,” your mother reminds you sternly over the phone. “And besides, you’ve known Lando your whole life. Surely you can survive a few months without tearing each other apart.” 

“Define ‘tearing each other apart,’” you mutter, earning a long sigh on the other end. 

“Stop being dramatic,” she replies. “Lando isn’t the problem. You both just need to grow up and learn how to live together.” 

You don’t have the energy to argue further, so you reluctantly let the conversation end with a grumbled, “Fine, but if one of us ends up in the hospital, it’s on you.” 

When you think about it, living with Lando is as much as living without Lando. So that’s how your days pass by for a while, at least until Lando has to leave to go racing or back to the UK to go to the Mclaren factory. You fight over everything like cats and dogs, and you are mature enough to admit that coexisting with Lando is not an option. The apartment is eerily quiet when Lando is not there, you realise. That makes sense, since he is not there to bicker with you about anything and everything you do, from the way you breathe to the way you walk. At first, you relish the silence. The absence of Lando’s constant complaints feels like a vacation. No sarcastic quips about your ‘obnoxious’ alarm clock. No eye rolls when you leave your shoes by the door instead of neatly tucking them away.  

No Lando, period. 

But then, as the days stretch on, the quiet begins to weigh on you. Without the petty arguments, the apartment feels almost... lifeless. You catch yourself lingering in the kitchen, half expecting him to appear and critique your choice of breakfast. Or walking past the couch, where you can usually find him lounging with a smug grin, daring you to say something about his feet on the coffee table. It’s unsettling how quickly you’ve grown used to his presence, how much his absence leaves a void. 

You would never admit out loud that there is a teeny tiny chance of you possibly miss having him around, because admitting that would be like handing him a victory he absolutely doesn’t deserve. Lando is already insufferable enough—imagine the endless teasing if he found out you missed him. No, you tell yourself firmly, this is just about the sudden peace and quiet that you are not used to. It has nothing to do with him. But the longer Lando stays away, the harder it becomes to ignore the empty space. You find yourself pacing the apartment, glancing at your phone, half-expecting to see a message from him. Maybe just to poke fun at something you did or complain about something you didn’t even know was an issue. But there’s nothing. Not even a text. 

It’s strange. The whole atmosphere of the apartment is different without his presence. The silence isn’t comforting anymore—it’s just oppressive. It makes you feel a little bit lost, a little bit too aware of the fact that the person who used to drive you crazy is the same person you now seem to miss, even if you won’t admit it. 

You’re standing in the kitchen one afternoon, absentmindedly washing dishes, when the door slams open when Lando is back. He’s dragging his luggage behind him, looking dishevelled but somehow still effortlessly cool. As soon as he steps in, he scans the apartment with that familiar smug grin. “You miss me?” he asks, voice light and teasing, though his eyes are just a little too knowing. 

Your heart skips a beat, and you quickly turn away, trying to hide the fact that you’re actually relieved to see him. “I wouldn’t go that far,” you mutter, scrubbing the plate a little too vigorously. 

Lando laughs, clearly enjoying this. “Sure, sure. You don’t have to admit it. I can tell.” He tosses his keys on the counter and walks into the living room, looking around like he’s just returned to the battlefield.  

“Only in your dreams, Lando.” You can’t stop the eye roll that follows, but you bite back the smile threatening to break through. 

Lando raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your deflection. “Trust me, darling, you’re doing something very different in my dreams.” 

You freeze for a second, a blush creeping up your neck despite your best efforts to stay unaffected.  

Did he really just say that? 

You turn your back to him, scrubbing the dish a little harder, trying to mask the sudden nervous energy that’s bubbled up in your chest. “Keep dreaming, Lando. I’m not that easy.” 

His laugh follows you, light and teasing. “Oh, I know. But trust me, it’s a pretty good dream.” He drops onto the couch with the same lazy, confident air that he always has, kicking his shoes off and stretching out like he owns the place. You roll your eyes, not wanting to give him any satisfaction, but you can’t help but feel a shift between you two. “I’m going to be a good roommate for a second,” he announces. 

“Oh, yeah?” You scoff, placing down the plate you were scrubbing on the drying rack. “I find that kind of hard to believe, but go on, I guess.” 

Lando smirks, clearly enjoying your scepticism. “No, really. I’m going to invite you out to a party tonight,” he says, leaning back on the couch with that trademark smugness. “My friends are throwing something to celebrate the win. You might as well come with me. You’re already here, and it’ll be good for you to get out of the apartment. Trust me, you’ll love it.” 

You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow. “A party? With your friends?” The idea of spending time with Lando and his crew seems like asking for more arguments, but something in his casual offer piques your interest.  

“Yeah, with my friends,” he confirms, totally unbothered by your hesitation. “It’ll be fun. No arguing, no complaints. Just a good time. You’ll need a little distraction, considering how quiet you’ve been without me.”  

“You’re a saint, Lando,” you laugh softly, drying your hands on the towel next to you, “but I’ll have to pass.” 

Lando’s smirk falters, but only for a moment, before he stands up from the couch, stretching lazily. “Come on,” he says, his tone shifting to a mix of coaxing and playful challenge. “You’re going to pass on the chance to have some fun?” 

You regret your decision to prove Lando wrong, as soon as you step into the club. The bass thrums through the floor, shaking your ribs as lights flicker across the packed club. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and something vaguely expensive—probably Lando’s choice of venue. You’re still not sure why you let him talk you into this. Lando disappears almost immediately, swallowed by a sea of familiar faces, leaving you with a drink in hand and a mild sense of regret. You shouldn’t have come. This was his world, not yours. 

You take a sip of your drink, scanning the room for any excuse to leave early, when a smooth voice pulls your attention. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here.” 

You turn, and your stomach flips slightly. Oh. 

Charles Leclerc, dressed effortlessly in a fitted black shirt, his green eyes glinting under the dim lights, is watching you with an amused expression. 

You laugh, shifting on your feet. “Is it that obvious?” 

“Painfully,” he grins, sipping his drink. “Not a fan of the club scene?” 

You shrug. “More like not a fan of being dragged here by a certain someone who insists I need to ‘loosen up.’” 

Charles chuckles knowingly. “Let me guess—Lando?” 

“Bingo.” 

Charles shakes his head, smiling. “Classic.” He leans against the bar, his gaze settling on you like he’s studying you, intrigued. “So, what do you actually like to do for fun?” 

You end up talking to him longer than you expected. He’s easy to talk to, charming in a way that doesn’t feel forced. And when he suggests getting some air outside, you don’t hesitate. 

Lando doesn’t notice you leaving. Or so you think. 

When Charles walks you up to your apartment later that night, you don’t expect to see Lando leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a frown etched onto his face. His eyes flick from you to Charles, jaw clenching. “Where the hell have you been?” His voice is sharp, accusing. 

You blink, caught off guard. “Excuse me?” 

“It’s two in the morning.” He points out, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes narrow down.  

You scoff, crossing your arms. “And? You go out all the time and come back whenever you want.” 

Lando ignores that. His gaze snaps to Charles. “And what are you doing here?” 

Charles raises his hands, staying neutral. “Just making sure she got home safe.” He then turns to you, “And I will be leaving, because I really don’t want my head chopped off, I’ll see you two later.” 

Lando lets out a bitter laugh. “Oh, how chivalrous of you.” Lando calls after Charles, scofffing as he turns back to you. 

You glare at him. “Lando, what is your problem?” 

Lando's jaw tightens, his arms still crossed over his chest as he glares at you like you’ve personally offended him. 

“My problem?” he scoffs. “My problem is that you just disappeared without saying anything. I turned around and you were gone.” 

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I didn’t realize I needed to check in with you like a child.” 

“You don’t,” he shoots back. “But maybe let someone know before you run off with Charles fucking Leclerc. Because I don’t know what to tell your mother.” 

“My mother?” You let out a sharp laugh, crossing your arms. “Oh, so that’s what this is about? You have a problem with Charles now? Isn’t he your friend?” 

Lando shifts on his feet, jaw clenching. “I don’t have a problem with him. I have a problem with you sneaking off in the middle of the night.” 

“Sneaking off?” you repeat, incredulous. “I told you I wasn’t going to stay long. You were too busy chatting up multiple girls to notice.” 

He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head like he’s trying to hold something back. “You shouldn’t have left with him.” He takes a step towards you, which would usually cause you to take a step back, but you don’t step down. 

“Oh my God, Lando.” You throw your hands up, exasperated. “I wasn’t kidnapped. Charles walked me home. That’s it.” 

Lando lets out a bitter laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sure. Just being a gentleman, right?” 

You narrow your eyes. “Yes, actually. Not that it’s any of your business.” 

“It is my business,” he snaps, taking a step closer. “You live here. With me. And if something happened—” 

“Nothing happened,” you cut him off. “And even if it did, you don’t get to act like this.” 

Lando shakes his head, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “Like what?” 

“Like you own me,” you challenge, voice steady. His mouth opens slightly, like he wants to argue, but no words come out. For the first time in the entire conversation, he looks caught off guard. You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.” You push past him, reaching for the door handle. 

But before you can step inside, Lando’s hand catches your wrist. It’s not rough—just enough to make you pause. You look up at him, and for the first time all night, there’s something in his expression that isn’t just frustration or irritation. He hesitates, then his voice drops, quieter this time. “I didn’t—” He exhales sharply, like the words physically hurt to get out. “I didn’t like seeing you with him.” 

Your breath catches for a second, because there it is. The truth that’s been simmering under the surface for weeks, finally cracking through. You hold his gaze, your heart hammering in your chest. “And why is that, Lando?” 

Lando’s grip on your wrist loosens slightly, his thumb brushing against your skin, and for a moment, it feels like the world has stopped spinning. He looks at you, eyes darkened, as if he’s struggling with the words, unsure whether to let them slip. “Because…” He trails off, voice barely a whisper, a complete opposite of himself mere moments ago when he was yelling. “Because I care. And I didn’t want you running off with someone else.” His eyes flick to the ground before meeting yours again, this time with something softer, vulnerable. "I didn’t want to admit it... but I think I’ve been a total idiot." 

You blink, heart pounding in your chest as the realization hits you like a ton of bricks. You stare at him for a moment, completely dumbfounded, unsure if you heard him right. “You…” you start, but he interrupts you, his voice urgent. 

“I know I’ve been a prick. I know we fight constantly, but I—” He pauses, his hands fidgeting at his sides, clearly nervous for the first time in a long while. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care about you. I just… I didn’t know how else to handle it. And when I saw you with him tonight, I…” He swallows hard, looking almost embarrassed. “I hated it. I didn’t want to feel like I was losing you.” 

Your head spins, trying to process what he’s saying. You blink a few times, trying to find the right words. “Lando… I thought you didn’t like me. I mean, the way you’ve acted, always arguing with me, always finding something to complain about—” Your voice falters, and you shake your head in disbelief. “I didn’t think you cared at all.” 

Lando’s eyes widen, a flash of guilt crossing his face. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again, as if struggling to form the words. Finally, he steps forward, closing the space between you, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I was just being an idiot. I never wanted to make you feel like that.” 

A silence falls over you both, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. You take a deep breath, your hand still resting where his had been moments before, and for the first time, you meet his gaze without the usual annoyance or defensiveness. “You’re such an idiot,” you mutter softly, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays the words. 

Lando lets out a small laugh, a genuine, relieved sound that makes your heart skip a beat. “I know. But I’m an idiot who cares about you.” 

He leans in to kiss you, but you put your finger on his lips, stopping him in his tracks as you chuckle softly. “Hold your horses, you better take me out first before kissing me, champ,” you say, your voice playful but with a hint of disbelief. 

Lando’s eyes flicker with a mix of surprise and amusement as he pulls back slightly, the tension between you two lifting. He raises an eyebrow, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his gaze. “Take you out, huh? Guess I’m gonna have to step up my game then.” 

You nod, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “I’m not that easy, Lando. You’ve got a lot of work to do after all the stupid things you said tonight.” 

Lando chuckles, shaking his head. “Fair enough, I deserve that.” He steps back and scratches the back of his head, looking a bit sheepish but still confident. “How about tomorrow? I’ll take you to dinner. No more arguments, I promise.” 

Your heart does a little flip at the thought of a calmer, less complicated night out with him. You try to play it cool, rolling your eyes. “I guess I could let you—hey!” You shriek as he throws you over his shoulder, already walking towards the door.  

You barely have time to protest before Lando's laughing voice rings through the apartment, his grip secure as he makes his way toward the door. “I’m serious. Dinner tomorrow, no complaints, no arguments. If you want your ‘I’m-not-that-easy’ dinner, you’re gonna have to accept the offer.” 

“Lando!” you cry, thumping his back in a half-hearted attempt to get free. “Put me down!” 

“I’m doing you a favour. You’re always so serious. It’s about time someone lightens things up!” He chuckles, effortlessly carrying you toward the door, his steps unwavering. 

You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. For someone who spent weeks driving you crazy, he was somehow making this moment feel lighter, better, despite your feigned indignation. When he finally sets you down in front of the door, you catch your breath, trying to keep your composure. “Don’t make me regret this,” you warn him, giving him a look that betrays the smile creeping onto your lips. “I’m not going easy on you, Lando Norris.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grins, all charm and confidence, a lopsided smile on his face. 

“Fine,” you say, nudging him playfully. “But you are definitely apologising to Charles later.” 

“Oh, come on,” he protests with mock offense. “We can’t have a perfect night without a little argument, can we?” Lando watches you, his grin never fading, his eyes full of that familiar glint.  

You shake your head at him one last time, unable to stop the smile from spreading across your face. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, but your heart’s not in it anymore. 

He steps closer, that cocky grin still in place, and leans down, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. “You love it,” he murmurs softly, his voice teasing but sincere. 

You pause, staring at him for a moment, as if weighing the truth of his words. And then, with a small sigh, you nod, the heat rising in your cheeks. “Maybe I do,” you admit, your voice quieter now. 

[loverofwomenswrongs]

DON'T ACT SO SURPRISED

****** Pairing: Billie Eilish x fem!reader Words: 1.1K

******

The arena buzzed with excitement as fans filled the stands. Y/n, arriving late, knew there was no chance Billie would spot her by mistake—after all, her girlfriend was notoriously observant, especially when it came to her. She had sent a message pretending to be back in LA, knowing that, under normal circumstances, Billie wouldn't call before the show due to the time difference. 

Just before the opening act, a staff member stepped on stage, catching the attention of the fans who looked around, confused. This wasn’t part of the usual show. The staff member spoke into the mic, “Hey, Melbourne! I know you're probably wondering what's going on right now, but I’m here on behalf of Billie’s team.” Whispers rippled through the crowd, some curious, others concerned. What was happening? Had something gone wrong?

“It’s nothing bad, we just need to ask you a favour. There’s a surprise for Billie at the end of the show, and we’d like you to please refrain from screaming or acknowledging it when you see it. We want her to be completely surprised, so just keep enjoying the show until she notices it, alright? We know you can do it,” the staff member continued.

With that, they exited the stage, leaving the fans buzzing with excitement, knowing that tonight’s show would be unlike any other.

Billie’s team had been careful to ensure she wouldn’t overhear anything backstage. Music blasted loudly as she was kept busy, and they had told her to head to the furthest room for her makeup, claiming it had better lighting. Billie, eager to perform, didn’t seem to notice how strange her team was acting.

As soon as Billie hit the stage, Y/n received a text from Finneas: You can come now. Thank goodness she had booked a hotel near the stadium. A tinted van picked her up, and within ten minutes, she arrived at the venue, greeted by warm hugs and smiles from Billie’s team.

She dropped her things in Billie’s room and quickly grabbed one of the singer’s hoodies to throw on. A member of the sound team helped her get her in-ears ready, and to blend in with the staff, she slipped on a security jacket, pulled a scarf over her face, and topped it off with a hat, hoping to avoid being recognized by fans.

She waited backstage, heart pounding as Happier Than Ever started to play. A real security guard came to escort her to the stage. Y/n moved forward, trying to keep her focus away from Billie, so she wouldn't feel her gaze. The nervous thumping of her heart was so loud, she could hear it over the music.

The guard led her under the stage as the song played on. Once safely out of view, Y/n quickly changed into her stage costume, letting out a sigh of relief. No one had noticed her, or if they had, they were good fans who kept the surprise under wraps.

The moment she had been waiting for arrived when she heard Billie’s voice introducing the last song of the night.

“Wow, Melbourne, you’ve been amazing! I’m so sad it’s ending. These past few weeks in Australia have made me so happy,” Billie said, her voice full of emotion.

The crowd erupted, and Y/n couldn’t help but smile. It had been so long since she’d seen Billie this content. Every time they talked about her time in Australia, there was a relaxed glow on her face.

“Thank you so much. Honestly. This last song is one of my favorites because I wrote it thinking about the most beautiful person I know—someone I miss so much. Y/n, bubs, I know you’re watching... I love you so much.”

Y/n felt a tear slide down her cheek as the crowd went wild. While their relationship wasn’t exactly a secret—fans often saw them posting about each other or attending events together—they kept much of their private lives just that: private. Still, their fans adored them, always respecting their boundaries.

“Now, I want to call my brother, Finneas, to the stage to help me with this last song. Here’s Birds of a Feather—I hope you enjoy it.”

The song began, with Finneas playing guitar, expertly distracting Billie as Y/n made her way onto the stage.

I want you to stay  'Til I'm in the grave   'Til I rot away, dead and buried   'Til I'm in the casket, you carry

As the lyrics filled the air, Y/n climbed the stairs, mic in hand. When she stepped onto the stage, gasps rippled through the crowd. Her voice joined Billie’s, and the singer glanced at her brother, confused. Finneas simply nodded toward Y/n, who was still singing.

Billie turned, almost dropping her microphone in shock as she saw her girlfriend. Her mouth fell open, eyes impossibly wide. Y/n laughed at the reaction, pausing to lean into the mic with a quiet, “Hi.”

The crowd went wild as Billie shook her head, still stunned. Without hesitation, the two girls embraced in a tight hug, the audience cheering them on. Billie spun Y/n around, holding her close as they shared the moment.

When they finally pulled apart, Billie’s hand cupped Y/n’s face, her expression one of disbelief. Y/n read her lips as Billie whispered, “How?”

Y/n smiled and whispered back, “Later,” pointing to Finneas, who wore a soft, proud smile. Billie turned and embraced her brother, silently thanking him.

Y/n took the opportunity to speak to the crowd. “Hey, Melbourne! How’s everyone doing? I just want to thank you all for keeping this secret with me. You were incredible!”

Billie, still laughing, added over the loudspeakers, “Wait… you all knew and didn’t tell me? I feel betrayed by my own fans!”

The crowd erupted in laughter.

“Don’t be mad at them, it was my doing,” Y/n replied, reaching for Billie’s hand.

Billie smirked. “Alright… So, shall we give them our song?”

Y/n nodded, placing a kiss on top of Billie’s head and exchanging a glance with Finneas, signaling they were ready to go.

As the song played on, the girls made an effort to interact with the crowd, sharing looks and smiles throughout. Billie often found herself admiring how easily Y/n moved across the stage, despite not being a singer herself. Meanwhile, Y/n couldn’t stop gazing at Billie, sending her playful winks whenever she could.

By the time the final notes of the song played, the two girls met center stage, singing the last lyrics to each other. For a brief moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

I knew you in another life   You had that same look in your eyes   I love you, don’t act so surprised

When the final chord struck, they melted into a tight hug. Billie pressed against Y/n’s chest, inhaling the scent she’d missed so much. The two pulled apart, their foreheads resting together, beaming with happiness. Y/n locked eyes with Billie as she mouthed, “I love you.”

******

Part 2

[everestgale]

The World's Most Boring Group Photo

Sixteen Colds, all so different, and yet all equally bored.

Wait, who dimmed the lights all of a sudden?

[Notes, comments, and design credits are under the cut!]

Hello! This is my propaganda post for every Cold in the @voice-of-the-sexyman tournament!

If you have not voted, you can do it right here, under the "#tournament voting" tag, you should be able to see all the rounds and vote for all the different Colds!!! There's also a ton of wonderful art for different Colds in the blog, so give it a scroll if you wanna see them! Or check out "#sexyman propaganda" tag, that also works!

Okay now that I've sufficiently advertised the tournament, here's my usual Everest ramble (apologies if it makes 0 sense, it's almost 6 am as I'm writing this):

When all the contestants were first announced for the tournament, I wanted to make a group photo with all the Colds, similar to the Hero one I did for New Years. But then I got distracted and kind of intimidated by the idea, and went "Well, I guess not this time."

Turns out all I needed for an inspiration push is for someone else to make some wonderful propaganda, and so here we are! This drawing is also why I asked everyone in the tourmament about the heights of their Colds, just so I could roughly place them! I tried my best to stick to the heights that were given to me, but a bunch definitely ended up shifting and growing/shrinking as I was changing the composition. So, uh, sorry about that!

And also sorry if I made mistakes in drawing any of your Cold designs, I really wanted to finish it as early in the voting week as possible, so I just spent 6 hours almost-straight drawing this! So there are most definitely some mistakes </3

But that aside! This tournament has been very fun already, everyone's Colds are absolutely wonderful, and they've been super fun to draw! In my eyes, they're all winners and all the sexymen (gender neutral) <3

Here's an annotated version of the drawing, with credits to each of the designs, go check all of these artists out!!! <3

@wysteriaisapenguin @toon-topaz @stoned-frog @lucidlytimid @boatslut @salty-an-disco @remaking-machine @acethekenku @dampfur @spupulum @miyuka1709 @phantasmatoucan @itsonlypolite @glitchh1337 @saranorah228

[vroomingrussell]

Papaya Rules doesn’t Apply to the Heart 🧡

Part 1 of 5

Oscar Piastri is in love with Y/N Brown. Y/N has been and probably will be in love with Lando Norris, and Lando, is in love with the attention and the thrill of chasing his first championship.

Note: this will be part smau & partly written; all pics are from Pinterest and in this Y/N is Zac Browns daughter. The fic takes places over the course of the 2024 season.

Thanks for Reading!

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Y/NIntsa posted to story

Photo 1 caption: Ms Graduate

Photo 2 caption: time to join my dad in the world of cars go fast

Photo 3 caption: Hello from Monoco

F1paddocktalk posted to insta

F1paddocktalk: CEO of McLaren Zak Browns daughter @yninsta has been spotted entering the paddock of the Monoco GP with her father. F1 fans following Y/N now private Instagram account, has confirmed that Y/N is in Monoco and has been since she graduated college earlier this month, she is rumored to be joining her father at McLaren for the remaining race season.

Comments:

user15: finally my princess is HOME; Y/N the kids have missed you 😭😭

User1: Landoy/n rise one again? User2: @/user1 landoy/n? Im new here, what’s the lore!! User1: oh im so glad you asked @/user2 I’ve been WAITING to talk about this; okay so back in 2020/2021 Lando and Y/N were SOMETHING; relationship never confirmed but they were seen almost everywhere together during summer and winter breaks. Even when they weren’t together, they were constantly calling each other, Y/N use to post her daily FT screenshots with Lando, he mostly use to game while she did homework…. Then Christmas is 2021, they unfollowed each other, her page went private and we haven’t seen her since. Lando never mentioned her again even though he use to bring her up EVERY 5 minutes on his streams. But now she’s back, graduated collage and is gonna be at McLaren for the rest of the races, soooo this should be interesting!

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

You clutched your phone anxiously in your hand, you hadn’t been to a race in years, hadn’t seen him in person in years, of course you kept tabs, it was hard not to when he’s all your dad seems to ever want to talk about.

No one really knew what happened between the two of you, not that you did either. Years ago, you were something or almost something… more than friends but never defined.

Friends that kissed til your lungs burned for air, friends that touched so tenderly the moments between you felt like glass. And just like glass, your had heart shattered when you saw the photo of Lando and a beautiful blonde posted on a gossip page. He told you the blonde was a friend, and you wondered just how many friends like that he had, for you it was always him, no one sparked electricity through your body just by looking at you, no one made you smile the way he did, no one made you believe in love the way he did, but you were smart, smart enough to know that he didn’t return those feelings.

So, you did what you always did when emotional and feelings became too much, or got too complicated.

You detach, and shrink away until you weren’t in his life anymore, holiday plans canceled, too busy with school, projects and test and even pretend dates until he no longer called, no longer there, blocked and removed, nothing messy. Quiet disappearance.

But years have passed and you’ve both grown; the oceans of emotions in your heart was had stilled until today, where every wave of want and love lashed at your stomach.

“Y/N?”

“Mhm, what?”

“I said are you okay? You look a little sick”

“Sorry dad, I’m okay just nervous, I forgot how hectic race weekends are” i you smiled at your father “I know” you sighed at the look of concern on his face “if I feel overwhelmed I’ll find your office and take a break, promise”

“I’m happy you’re here Princess” Zak smiled and kissed the top of your head “I’ll see you okay”

“I’m happy to be here too”

As you parted ways and you began to walk around the hospital; it dawned on you that you knew no one, not really. A lot had changed in the couple of years you’d been away. You knew Alex and George, but they were getting prepared for free practice, none of the WAGs were your friends, Lilly was nice enough the few times you’d spoken to her and Alex but she wasn’t at the race.

You were consumed by your own thoughts that you weren’t paying attention to where you were walking until you felt strong arms gripping your shoulders, stopping you from colliding them with them.

“Hey- whoa be careful”

“Sorry” you quickly apologized, looking up to see a face you have become familiar with, even though he might not know you “Oscar, hey I’m Y/N, Zaks daughter”

“Yeah? It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about, feels like I know you already”

You playfully rolled your eyes “my dad never shuts up huh?”

“No um Lando, actually, he’s been pretty much singing your praises since he heard you were coming”

“Oh” you forced a polite smile “that’s nice of him”

“Osc!” You heard a familiar voice call out, your heart began to hammer against your rib cage, the closer he got, the louder it sounded in your ear.

“Found y/n for you”

And before you could make your escape, there you were, in his arms, it felt as familiar as ever, and every caution went to the wind, you wanted to stay there, buried in the scent of his perfume.

“I missed you”Lando said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Missed you too” you said, finally relaxing and hugging him back. It had been years, you were both grown, you were ready to let go of the hurt you felt in the past and move on, rekindle the friendship you lost, because, above everything you feel for Lando, his friendship, truly meant more to you, and you’d love nothing more than being his friend again.

Friend, defined and uncomplicated.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

F1paddocktalk posted to instagram

F1paddocktalk:

Spotted by one of our followers in the McLaren hospitality, Lando Norris and Y/N Brown. Rumor has this is the first time the pair has met or talked since Christmas 2021; they were previously linked but a relationship was never confirmed, could the old friends be rekindling their old flame?

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Comment if you’d like to be tagged in future parts

[dearlenore]

THE FIRST, FIRST LOVE COMPLEX • S.REID • PT2

SUMMARY: after revealing the shocking truth of Spencer Reid’s first, first love, the team does as the unsub instructs, retracing his steps all the way to Las Vegas.

PAIRING: fem!reader x spencer

tags: reader is a cutie pie, reader wears sun dresses and bikinis, reader is flirty bombshell, mentions of eating disorder, mentions of death, stalking, etc

a/n: i finally wrote part two please don’t hurt me

w/c: 4.8K

PT1

TAGLIST: @miyah-kaulitz @celestial-dome @lqu91s @ningeology @anthropsych @kore-of-the-underworld (sorry if I couldn’t tag u angels🥹💋)

The BAU’s jet touched down in New York just past noon, the sky a dull, unbroken sheet of grey. Heavy clouds clung to the tips of the city’s steel giants, muting the sunlight and casting a somber haze over the skyline. The low hum of the engines faded, but Spencer’s mind continued to race — fast and relentless — like a needle skipping on a broken record.

He sat rigid in his seat, shoulders tight and posture stiff. While the others moved with calm efficiency, gathering their bags and briefing one another quietly, Spencer remained frozen. His fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against his knee, each tap betraying the nervous energy buzzing beneath his skin.

She’s out there somewhere.

The thought looped through his mind like a mantra — or a curse. Every worst-case scenario unraveled in his head, each one more suffocating than the last. His last memory of you played over and over, taunting him. Your bright smile had been framed by golden sunlight, hair tousled by a lazy breeze as you lounged on a park bench with a book balanced in your lap. He remembered the way you’d tucked your hair behind your ear without looking up, too engrossed in the pages to notice him watching.

She’s safe like this, he had thought at the time. Happy. Warm. Free.

But now? Now you were somewhere in the heart of a city too vast, too unpredictable — a place that swallowed people whole. And Spencer had no idea where you were or what the unsub’s next move would be. That uncertainty clawed at him, tightening his chest until breathing felt like a conscious effort.

“Reid.”

Hotch’s voice cut through the spiral of thoughts — calm yet commanding. Spencer blinked, suddenly aware that the others were standing near the exit, waiting for him.

“JJ and I will handle this,” Hotch said firmly. “You stay here and go through the evidence again.”

“I should be there,” Spencer shot back, his voice too sharp, too fast. His breath hitched. “If he contacts her, if there’s a pattern I missed—”

“You’re too close to this,” Hotch interrupted, tone steady but unyielding. “We need her calm when we find her, not terrified because you’re pacing like you are now.”

Spencer opened his mouth to argue, but no words came. Hotch was right — Spencer knew that — yet the logic did nothing to quiet the gnawing panic threatening to consume him. His mind refused to slow down, cycling through probabilities and variables, imagining scenarios he couldn’t control.

“We’ll bring her back safe,” JJ added softly. Her hand squeezed his arm — brief, warm, and grounding. “I promise.”

Spencer swallowed hard and nodded, but the tension coiling in his chest refused to loosen. As Hotch and JJ disembarked, Spencer stayed behind, staring blankly at the clutter of files spread across the table.

His gaze fell to the photograph at the top of the stack — your face, mid-laugh, eyes crinkled with warmth. The memory of that moment blurred with his anxiety, twisting the image in his mind. What if this unsub had already—

No.

Spencer inhaled deeply, shakily, and forced himself to refocus. He grabbed a pen, determined to find something — anything — that could lead them to you before it was too late.

The law firm’s reception area was sleek and imposing — marble floors polished to a mirror sheen, towering glass walls that seemed to stretch endlessly upward, and a front desk staffed by a sharp-looking receptionist whose tailored blazer was as precise as her clipped tone. She barely flicked her gaze up when Hotch and JJ approached.

“We’re here to see Y/N L/N,” Hotch said firmly, flashing his badge with practiced ease.

The receptionist’s eyes barely lifted from her computer screen. “She’s assisting Mr. Connelly in a meeting,” she replied flatly. “I can leave her a message.”

“It’s urgent,” JJ pressed, her voice calm yet underscored with quiet insistence. “It’s a matter of her safety.”

The receptionist’s cool façade faltered, her gaze flicking from JJ to Hotch and back again. For a moment, she hesitated, clearly debating whether to push back or comply. Finally, her professional demeanor gave way to uncertainty. “I… let me get her.”

Moments later, you appeared from the hallway — heels clicking crisply on the marble, posture sharp and poised. A sleek blazer framed your figure, lending you an air of effortless confidence. Yet despite your composed appearance, warmth still lingered in your eyes — a warmth that flickered brighter the moment you recognized JJ. She was Spencer’s co worker, the one you were convinced he would be with once you were gone.

“JJ?” you greeted, surprise softening your features. “What are you doing here?”

JJ’s smile was brief, weighed down by something heavier. “Can we talk somewhere private?”

The concern in her voice dimmed your initial excitement, and you nodded, gesturing for them to follow you into a quiet office down the hall. The room was simple — modern furnishings, a tidy desk, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. As soon as the door clicked shut, JJ’s warm expression shifted to something more serious.

“We believe someone’s been following you,” Hotch said, his voice low and firm. “We have reason to believe your life is in danger.”

Your smile faltered, confusion knitting your brows. “What? Why?”

“We think it’s connected to Spencer,” JJ added gently. “He didn’t want to scare you, but… we need to get you somewhere safe.”

“Spencer?” His name felt foreign on your tongue — distant yet familiar all at once. Your expression softened for a brief moment before unease crept in. “I haven’t seen him in… God, years.” You paused, your mind scrambling to piece things together. “Wait… is this about those weird letters I’ve been getting?”

JJ’s gaze sharpened. “Letters?”

You nodded, moving to your desk and retrieving your purse. “I thought they were just from some weird admirer, but… yeah. They’d show up in my mailbox — poems, quotes about angels and music. It was sweet at first, but then they started mentioning things about my past.” Your fingers drifted to the delicate chain around your neck, absently toying with the pendant — a nervous habit you hadn’t shaken. “I figured it was just someone from high school who remembered me.”

Hotch’s expression darkened. He exchanged a grim look with JJ, and the silent weight of their concern settled over you like a cold shadow.

“Those letters are likely from the person targeting you,” Hotch said, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

You blinked, the air suddenly feeling too thin. “This has something to do with Spencer?”

“We believe the unsub’s fixation started with him,” JJ explained carefully. “But somewhere along the way, they became obsessed with you.”

The weight of her words pressed heavily on your chest. Memories of Spencer stirred — late-night conversations whispered across shared coffees, the warmth of his hand on yours when he thought no one was looking, the way his gaze softened when you laughed. He had always been cautious with you — overly protective in a way you didn’t fully understand at the time.

Maybe now you did.

“I need to get my things,” you said quietly, your voice thinner than you intended. You reached for your purse, suddenly aware of how exposed you felt — the glass walls, the polished floors, the endless corridors all seemed too open, too vulnerable.

“We’ll walk you out,” Hotch said firmly, his stance shifting slightly as if preparing for the worst.

JJ offered you a small smile — one meant to reassure — but there was no hiding the tension that hung in the air.

The moment you stepped back into the reception area, the city’s distant noise seemed louder — sirens wailing faintly in the background, muffled conversations humming just outside the glass walls. As you walked between Hotch and JJ, their presence was comforting yet unsettling — a constant reminder that someone, somewhere, was watching.

And you had no idea what they were planning next.

Spencer barely looked up when Hotch and JJ returned to the station with you. He was pacing near Garcia’s workstation, phone in hand, scrolling through messages for any missed calls. His fingers trembled slightly against the device, his mind spinning in frantic loops.

When he finally noticed you walking in, relief flooded his face — but the tension in his body didn’t ease. His anxiety kept him rooted in place, shoulders rigid and breath uneven.

“Spencer…” Your voice was soft, almost hesitant, yet it broke through the buzzing noise in his head.

“You’re okay,” he breathed, his voice tight. “Thank God.”

You crossed the room quietly, your steps measured. Your hand found his arm — gentle, barely a touch — yet steady enough to pull him from his spiral.

“I didn’t know what was happening,” you said softly, your fingers curling slightly against his sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said, his eyes flicking between yours like he was trying to memorize your face all over again. “I should’ve told you sooner — I should’ve kept in touch. I—”

“You’re here now,” you interrupted quietly, your voice steady but tender. “That’s enough.”

Before Spencer could say more, Penelope’s voice broke the moment.

“Spence… you need to see this.”

Her fingers hovered above her keyboard, her usual brightness dimmed beneath a layer of unease. The screen displayed a new email — subject line: “For My Angel.”

With shaky hands, Spencer clicked the message open.

The letter was written in the same looping script as the others:

She saved my life once, your angel did.

Her music was like light — soft and warm — and she never knew I was listening.

She’s everything pure in this world, and you’re tainting her.

I’ll take her away, away from you, and give her the peace she deserves.

She won’t need to suffer anymore.

Attached were two video files. Spencer clicked the first.The screen filled with a sunlit beach — the camera shaky and handheld. You stood near the water’s edge, the breeze teasing strands of your hair loose from their pins. The fabric of your bikini clung to you as you laughed, warm and carefree, before playfully splashing Spencer.

“I’m serious!” Spencer’s voice laughed from behind the camera. “You’re gonna get cold.”

“The water is nice, come on!,” you teased, your smile softer than your words. The sound of your voice — light and fond — was enough to hollow out Spencer’s chest.

The video cut off.

The second file played — a dimly lit restaurant this time. You sat across from Spencer, your fingers slowly tracing the rim of your cocktail glass. Your gaze flicked downward as you stirred the straw absentmindedly, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you murmured without lifting your eyes.“Like what?” Spencer’s voice countered.

“Like you’re profiling me,” you said quietly, finally glancing up.

“I can’t help it,” Spencer’s voice returned, quiet and certain. The look on his face — the love in his eyes — was undeniable.

The video ended.

“That’s enough,” Spencer muttered, stepping back from the screen. His chest felt painfully tight, like he couldn’t draw in a full breath.

“Why would they send this?” you asked softly. Your voice didn’t tremble — it barely rose above a whisper — but the unease was clear in your eyes.

“He’s fixated,” JJ said carefully. “Not just on Spencer — on you. He’s convinced that somehow… you saved him.”

“Saved him?” you repeated, your brows knitting together.

“In high school,” Spencer murmured, piecing it together. “The music, the kindness — you must’ve done something that he clung to.”

You lowered your gaze to your hands, your fingers loosely fidgeting with the chain of your necklace. “I used to play my flute in the park,” you said quietly. “There was this boy… I didn’t know his name, but he was always sitting alone. I played because… I don’t know, I thought maybe it’d help.”

“That’s it,” Hotch said grimly. “You gave him something to hold onto.”

“And now,” JJ added, “he thinks he’s saving you in return.”

For a long moment, you were silent — your fingers still absently twisting the necklace chain.

“We need to find him before he gets that chance,” Spencer said firmly. His voice was low, but the urgency behind it was unmistakable.

You gave a small nod, your fingers tightening around the delicate chain. The air in the room felt heavier than before — thick with unspoken fear — but when Spencer’s hand found yours, you let him hold on.

Quietly, you let yourself believe that somehow, despite everything, you’d be safe.

The morning air was cold — the kind that clung to your skin and sank into your bones — and it carried with it a weight that pressed heavily on Spencer’s chest. He stood beside Hotch and JJ, his fingers twitching restlessly against his side, the unease winding tighter with every breath.

The plan had seemed secure — two officers stationed with you, experienced and reliable. Spencer had reviewed their backgrounds twice, grilling Hotch on their credentials as if he could force some kind of guarantee. But it hadn’t been enough to quiet the gnawing panic in his chest.

He’d argued. Begged, even.

“She should stay here,” Spencer had insisted, voice rising despite himself. “Or— or somewhere safer. A hotel, one with security, or maybe—”

“I just want to go home,” you’d interrupted, your voice quiet but unwavering. “I can’t breathe in here. I need to feel normal again.”

Spencer’s protests had faltered. He’d hated that he understood.

He knew that suffocating feeling — that desperate need to reclaim some semblance of control after fear had robbed you of it. He knew what it felt like to want your space back, to convince yourself that normalcy could be enough to keep you safe.

So he’d let you go — but not without hesitation.

He remembered standing by the station doors, fingers clenched at his sides, feeling like there was something more he should’ve said — something that might’ve changed your mind. When you turned back for him, your gaze softened, and suddenly he couldn’t hold himself back.

He’d closed the distance in an instant, arms wrapping tightly around you. His fingers curled into the fabric of your coat like he could anchor you there with him.

“Please be safe,” he whispered into your hair. His voice had wavered, barely audible even to himself.

“You’ll see me tomorrow,” you promised, voice soft yet certain. “Bright and early.”

But Spencer had held on just a little longer, as if he knew that promise might be one you wouldn’t get the chance to keep.

The apartment felt foreign — like someone else’s home disguised in your own familiar comforts. The faint scent of lavender still clung to the air, and the pastel throw blankets you’d folded just the night before lay neatly across the armchair. Yet none of it felt real. It was like you were standing in a stage set, where everything looked familiar but nothing felt safe.

You’d brewed a cup of tea — something warm and calming — but your fingers barely touched the mug. It sat untouched on the counter, steam curling lazily upward.

Detective Alvarez and Officer Greene moved with quiet diligence, checking the locks for the fifth time that morning. Their presence should have been reassuring, but instead, it only deepened the unease gnawing at your chest.

“We’ve got this,” Alvarez said, flashing you a confident smile. “No one’s getting in.”

You tried to smile back, but it felt thin, forced. The words didn’t stick.

Your gaze kept drifting to the windows. Each shadow seemed to stretch too far, each silhouette in the corner of your eye felt like someone lurking just out of sight.

You turned on the TV, letting the dull hum of the morning news fill the silence. The voices blurred together — static, muffled — but you kept the volume high, hoping to drown out the noise in your head.

Then there was a knock at the door.

“Miss L/N?” Greene’s voice called. “It’s me.”

You frowned, setting your tea down. “Didn’t you just check in?”

“Just want to update you,” he answered. “Everything’s clear outside.”

Something felt off — the words too casual, too light. You hesitated, fingers curling around the door handle. Still, you turned the lock and opened the door just a crack — enough to see Greene’s face.

He smiled, but something was wrong. The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes — too tight, too forced.

And then you saw it — the smear of blood just beneath his collar.

Your breath caught.

Before you could react, he shoved the door open. The impact sent you sprawling backward, your shoulder striking the wall and your head slamming against the sharp corner of your bookshelf.

“W-What…?” Your voice barely broke the air, slurred and thin as dizziness clouded your vision. The room spun, shadows warping and shifting.

The man standing above you wasn’t Greene. His uniform hung loose on his frame, and the dark glint in his eyes twisted your stomach with dread.

“Im sorry it had to be this way,” he murmured, voice low and venomous.

The street was a blur of flashing lights and frantic voices when the BAU arrived. Spencer shoved past the officers crowding the sidewalk, ignoring the calls for him to slow down. His breath hitched when he reached the threshold of the building.

Two bodies.

Detective Alvarez lay crumpled in the stairwell, his chest dark with blood. Officer Greene’s body was slumped near the front door — his badge still clutched tightly in his hand. Blood smeared the floor like a cruel map of what had unfolded, but none of it mattered.

You weren’t there.

“She’s gone,” Spencer whispered, his voice barely holding together. His chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven bursts. “He took her…”

“We’ll find her,” Hotch said firmly, placing a steady hand on his shoulder.

“He has her right now!” Spencer snapped, his voice breaking as he turned sharply toward him. His breath stuttered again — this time more ragged, more desperate. “Right now…”

“Spence…” JJ’s voice was softer as she approached. “We found something inside.”

Spencer barely heard her. His gaze remained fixed on the bloodstains, the smeared footprints leading away from the doorway. His mind kept looping back to the last thing you’d said to him.

“You’ll see me tomorrow. Bright and early.”

But tomorrow had arrived — and you were nowhere to be found.

The living room was a wreck — papers strewn across the floor, cushions gutted and tossed aside, the coffee table shoved halfway across the room. The scent of overturned candles and stale air clung to the space. Yet none of it mattered — not the mess, not the chaos.

What stole Spencer’s breath was the envelope on the coffee table.

His name was scrawled across the front in jagged, uneven letters — the ink pressed so hard into the paper it had nearly torn through. His fingers trembled as he reached for it, dread coiling tightly in his chest.

“Spence…” JJ’s voice was soft, but it barely registered.

With shaky hands, he tore the envelope open. The paper inside was rough beneath his fingertips — thin and cheap, like something torn from a notebook.

“I trusted you to keep her safe. How could you let her suffer like this?

She’s perfect — but she’s broken.

You never even noticed. While you smiled and held her hand, she was starving herself just to stay small enough for you to love her.

She’s an angel… my angel.

I’ll fix her now. I’ll save her from you.”

Spencer’s breath faltered, his fingers tightening around the paper until it crumpled in his grip. His vision blurred as the words seared themselves into his mind.

“What… what does he mean?” Spencer rasped, his voice thin and uneven.

JJ stepped closer, her expression carefully composed yet unmistakably concerned. “Spencer… did she ever mention struggling with food?”

“Yes.” His voice broke on the word. “She’s… she’s always smiling, always full of life…she got better…”

But even as the words left his mouth, memories began to surface — disjointed and sharp.

The quiet way you’d push food around your plate, always insisting you weren’t that hungry.

The faint tremor in your fingers when you were tired — or when you thought no one was looking.

The way your dresses sometimes seemed a little too loose, like they didn’t quite fit the way they once had.

Moments he’d brushed off as nothing — little things that felt insignificant at the time but now twisted painfully in his mind.

You were hurting… and he hadn’t seen it.

“Oh God…” Spencer’s breath hitched, and his knees buckled. He sank onto the edge of the couch, the crumpled letter still clenched in his fist. “I didn’t see it.” His voice broke, raw and strained.

“It’s not your fault,” Hotch said firmly, stepping into his line of sight. “This unsub is projecting his own obsession — twisting it to blame you.”

“No,” Spencer choked out, shaking his head. His voice faltered, barely more than a whisper. “I should’ve known… I should’ve noticed.”

JJ knelt beside him, her hand resting gently on his arm. “Spence… you love her. That’s what matters right now.”

But Spencer barely heard her. His mind spiraled, looping back to the last time he’d seen you — the softness in your smile when you’d promised him “bright and early.”

He thought about the way you’d hugged him a little longer than usual — how fragile you’d felt in his arms.

You needed him… and he hadn’t seen it.

“I can’t lose her,” Spencer whispered, his voice breaking. “I can’t…”

“We’re going to find her,” Hotch said firmly. “But we need you with us — thinking clearly.”

Spencer forced a shaky breath and wiped a trembling hand across his face. He clung to the only thing that mattered now — the promise he silently made to himself as he stared at the crumpled letter in his hand.

He would find you.

He wouldn’t fail you again.

The room was silent except for the furious rhythm of Garcia’s fingers flying across her keyboard. Spencer hovered beside her, too restless to sit. His breath came in shallow bursts, his mind cycling through worst-case scenarios on a relentless loop.

“Come on…” Garcia muttered. “Come on, you sick freak… give me something…”

The seconds dragged painfully on — each one tightening the coil of panic in Spencer’s chest.

Then — ping.

“Got him!” Garcia cried. “A security camera caught him heading toward an abandoned warehouse five miles outside the city.”

Hotch was already barking orders, agents scrambling for their gear. Spencer didn’t wait — he was out the door, heart racing.

The warehouse reeked of mold and rust, the air heavy with dust that clung to Spencer’s throat. The floorboards groaned beneath his steps, each creak splintering the silence. His pulse pounded in his ears — too loud, too fast.

Then he heard it.

A faint sound — soft, stifled sobs.

His chest tightened.

“Y/N…”

He followed the sound, moving faster now. His heart nearly stopped when he saw you — slumped against a metal pole, wrists raw and bruised from the rope that bit into your skin. Your hair clung to your face, damp with sweat, and your breathing was shallow.

“Y/N…” Spencer’s voice broke on your name.

Your head lifted weakly. “Spence…”

Before he could reach you, a figure emerged from the shadows.

The unsub.

He was wiry, face gaunt and eyes wild. The knife in his hand gleamed under the dim light.

“You didn’t deserve her,” the man spat, his voice shaking with rage. His glare locked onto Spencer, burning with venom. “You let her suffer, and you didn’t even notice.”

“Please…” Spencer raised his hands, voice tight but steady. “You don’t have to hurt her.”

“I would never! She’s not safe with you,” the man snapped. “She’s too kind — too good — and you didn’t even see how much she was hurting.” His voice wavered. “But I did.”

Spencer’s heart twisted painfully. “I know you believe that,” he said carefully. “But you’re not helping her this way.”

“I can fix her!” the man barked, his hand tightening around the blade.

“By starving her?” Spencer’s voice rose, breaking with emotion. “By scaring her like this?”

The unsub flinched as if Spencer’s words had struck him. His grip faltered, the knife dipping slightly.

“I wouldn’t starve her! I- I’m not like you.” The unsub held his head with his free hand, waving the knife about. It went quiet for a moment.

Then your voice broke the silence.

“Hey…”

Both men froze as you lifted your head. Your voice was soft — weak yet unwavering.

“Hey,” you tried again, a little stronger this time — gentle, soothing, like you were speaking to a frightened child.

The unsub’s gaze flicked to you. His face twisted with confusion. “You… you don’t have to be scared,” he stammered. “I’m saving you.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I know you think you are.”

Spencer’s breath caught. He wanted to move — to reach you — but he knew better than to push.

“I remember you,” you said, your voice steady. “From high school… you used to sit on the far bench by the fountain.”

The unsub blinked rapidly. “You remember?”

“Of course I do,” you said with a faint smile. “I used to play my flute there… and you’d always listen.”

“You… you played beautifully,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You don’t know what that meant to me. I was… I was going to kill myself that day. But then I heard you playing, and I thought… maybe there’s still something good in the world. You were that something.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “I’m so glad you didn’t,” you said softly. “You deserved to find peace… to heal. But this isn’t the way.”

The knife wavered in his hand.

“I know you think I’m broken,” you continued gently. “But I promise… I’m okay now. I’m trying to be.”

The unsub shook his head fiercely. “No, no… you’re not okay. I saw you — barely eating, wasting away. He let you hurt yourself.” His eyes flicked back to Spencer, sharp with blame.

“I know,” you said carefully. “But that wasn’t his fault.”

Spencer’s breath hitched.

“I was sick,” you explained gently. “The weight loss… it wasn’t my eating disorder. It was my medication.” Your gaze shifted to Spencer, soft and unwavering. “He’s always been there for me. And right now… I need him.”

The unsub’s face crumbled. His fingers slackened around the knife.

“You’ve been carrying this pain for so long,” you said softly. “But you don’t have to anymore. Let me help you now, the way you once helped me.”

The blade clattered to the floor.

“I just wanted to protect you,” the man whispered brokenly.

“I know,” you murmured, eyes kind. “But it’s over now. You protected me.”

The team rushed in, Morgan and Hotch seizing the unsub before he could react. The man barely resisted — his gaze stayed locked on you, his expression crumpling as tears streaked down his face.

“You saved me,” he mumbled as they dragged him away. “You saved me back then… and you saved me now…”

“And you saved me,” you responded.

Later, after you’d been checked over by paramedics, you found Spencer sitting quietly outside the ambulance. His head hung low, wrists encircled by handcuffs — protocol after crossing into the scene without waiting for backup. His fingers twisted anxiously, his breathing uneven.

“Hey…”

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts. When he looked up and saw you standing there — bruised but smiling — his chest caved with relief.

“You’re okay…” His voice broke, and he blinked rapidly.

“I’m okay,” you promised. “Thanks to you.”

“I… I should’ve known,” Spencer stammered. “About the medication… about everything. He was right — I didn’t see it.”

“You couldn’t have,” you soothed. “But you’ve always been there when it mattered.”

Spencer swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if—”

“You don’t have to think about that.” Gently, you reached for his hand, your fingers threading through his.

Spencer exhaled shakily, eyes flicking downward.

“Do you remember…” You paused, smiling softly. “When I used to play for you?”

His gaze lifted, brow furrowing slightly.

“I’d still play for you someday,” you offered. “If you want.”

Spencer let out a breath — a faint, tired laugh — and nodded.

“I’d like that.”

[inthelibrarybtw]

you want me to pretend? | five

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: college!basketball!captain!rafe x college!student!reader content: fluff, college au, smau/irl, inaccurate school system talk

summary: You were trying to make one problem disappear. You were tired, so you lied. That small lie led you to contact the last person you wanted to ask for help. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Rafe; only that you didn’t want to deal with his constant teasing more than you already did. Also, you two weren't that close, but this one lie was going to bring you two closer and maybe help some truths come to light.

word count: 0.6k

authors note: we're back, literally. there will be more flashbacks in the future so stay tuned. Also I made a playlist with the songs up to this part.

04 | 05 | 06

Sophomore year - 2022

Statistics. You weren’t the biggest fan of the class, yet you took it every semester of your major. One positive thing this class brought you was Kelce. You and Kelce had met thanks to your moms when you were kids and had also gone to kindergarten together. You had moved houses, and when it was time for elementary school, you belonged to a new district, so you didn’t attend the same one as Kelce. But life brought the two of you back together last year in this very same class. As a freshman, you thought you wouldn’t know anyone, but there was the familiar face with whom you had shared so many memories. Kelce didn’t hesitate to talk to you, and it felt like no time had passed. 

This was supposed to be the second class, but the professor was sick last week, so there was no class. Even if this was the first class, he was already assigning a project. It was small, but it had to be done in groups of no fewer than three people, and those groups would remain for the rest of the semester. 

“You can work with us,” Kelce said. 

“Us who?” you asked, confused; he was alone. 

“He is late; he had an impromptu basketball meeting.” Just as on cue, the guy Kelce had been talking about walked into the class, excusing himself to the professor and standing in front of you. 

“You’re in my seat,” he said in a gentle tone. 

“Well, you weren’t here.” You gave him a little smile and added, 

“I think I can forgive you just because of that smile,” he smirked. 

“Just sit down, Rafe,” Kelce motioned to his friend, and you just stared at him. 

After the class ended, Kelce formally introduced the two of you and mentioned that he would create a group chat to talk when needed. You said goodbye to both and left for your next class.

“So, how long have you known her?” Rafe asked Kelce.

“Since when do you care how long I’ve known someone?”

“Since today,” he paused. “Now answer.” Kelce chuckled.

“Since we were kids; our moms are friends. You would’ve met her if she hadn’t moved away before we started elementary school.”

“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?”

“Why would I mention it before?… Wait! You liked her,” Kelce laughed as they walked out of class.

“Not to be that guy, but have you seen her? Why wouldn’t I like her?”

“Have some backbone, would you? You don’t even know her.”

“And that’s your fault! Why have you kept her hidden?” Kelce laughed out loud again.

“I haven’t kept her hidden.”

“Do you like her?”

“Calm down, would you? No, I don’t like her. She is pretty, but she’s not my type, and I’ve known her for so long I can’t see her that way.”

“I didn’t know you knew Rafe,” Sarah says as you both make your way inside the coffee shop.  

“I don’t; Kelce introduced us yesterday in statistics class, and now we are working together as a group.”  

“That’s nice. He’s pretty good with numbers.”  

“Good to know. I’m not a big fan,” you said, chuckling softly. “How do you know him?”  

“Oh, he is my cousin. We were born almost at the same time and grew up together,” Sarah smiled.  

“It’s like you are siblings.”  

“Oh, we definitely treat each other like siblings sometimes,” she laughs.  

You both continued talking and decided to order because the guys weren’t showing up, and Ruthie had told you that she was going to be late because she had forgotten to buy groceries. After you two had ordered, you sat and continued talking while scrolling through your phones.

taglist: @zyafics @maybankslover @niaunoffical @marleymarleymarleymarley @rafesbabygirlx @akobx @papercranesandinkstains @drewstarkeyspecs @winterivory @my-name-is-baby @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @drewrry @ursogorgeous13 @pr3tty-pink @lmaowhatt @reeseswirl @xoxosblogsblog @lili-swagalicious @ayy1234567 @rihannamars @congratsloserr @moonywhisp3rs @iamheretoread1234 @rafesdrew @bee-43 @pogueprincesa @cokewithcameron @landososcar @drewstarkeyslover @wintersoldierslover @rafecqmeronslove @defnotayonna if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :) follow and turn on notifications on @inthelibrarybtw-notifs to get updates on everything i write

REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.

[wifelivvyx]

Inside Trouble (Part 2)

The kiss should have ended there.

It should have been a moment of clarity—one where you pulled away, looked at each other, and agreed it was a bad idea.

But when you started to lean back, breathless, George’s hands tightened on your waist.

"Not yet," he murmured.

And then he pulled you back in.

This time, the kiss was hungrier, like he had spent too long pretending he didn’t want this. His fingers gripped your waist like he was scared you’d slip away again, and you had to brace yourself against his chest as he kissed you deeper.

You felt dizzy—not just from the way his lips moved against yours, but from the fact that this was George.

And now you weren’t just thinking about him as your best friend.

He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it—in him.

Until—

Footsteps.

Your heart stopped.

You jerked away, eyes wide, breathing hard.

George groaned under his breath, tilting his head back in frustration, but he let you go just as another contestant walked into the kitchen.

They blinked at you both. "Uh… am I interrupting something?"

You scrambled for words, but George recovered quickly. "Nope. Just talking."

"Yep," you agreed too fast, forcing a smile. "Just talking."

The contestant raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. They just grabbed a water bottle and left.

The second the door shut, you let out a breath, pressing a hand to your racing heart.

George, however, just grinned.

"That was close," he muttered.

You shot him a glare. "You pulled me back in!"

He didn’t even look sorry. "Yeah. And?"

You stared at him. "And?! George, we’re literally on a reality show where people get eliminated based on social connections—"

"You say that like I wouldn’t take a nomination just to kiss you again."

Your breath hitched.

Because the way he said it? Like it wasn’t even a question? Like he meant it?

You shook your head, trying to ignore the warmth in your chest. "This is bad. Really bad."

George stepped closer. "You sure about that?"

You swallowed. "Yes."

His eyes flickered down to your lips, and suddenly, you weren’t so sure anymore.

But before you could figure it out, another contestant walked in.

This time, you didn’t wait for questions. You turned on your heel and left—before you did something stupid again.

Like let George Clarke kiss you a third time.

Day 16 – The Avoidance Game

You avoided him.

It wasn’t easy—George was everywhere. At breakfast, during group challenges, even when you were just sitting in the lounge. Every time you looked up, he was watching you with this annoying smirk, like he knew exactly why you were keeping your distance.

And okay, yeah. Maybe he did know.

But you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

At least, that’s what you thought—until he cornered you in the hallway.

"Are we seriously pretending that didn’t happen?" he muttered.

You stepped back, but your back hit the wall. Trapped.

"George—"

"Y/N." He stepped closer. "Talk to me."

You crossed your arms, trying to look unbothered. "It was just a moment."

He scoffed. "Oh yeah? Just a moment?"

You refused to look at him. "Yes."

George tilted his head, like he was deciding whether to believe you. "Then why haven’t you been able to look at me all day?"

Your breath caught. "I have—"

"Nope." His voice was low, teasing. "You’ve been avoiding me. And not very well, by the way."

You clenched your jaw. "Because I’m trying to be smart about this. The others are already suspicious."

George just shrugged. "Let them be."

You stared at him. "George, someone’s gonna notice."

He grinned. "Let them."

Your pulse spiked. "You don’t care if people find out?"

He exhaled sharply. "I care about you."

Your heart stuttered.

George took another step, so close now. His fingers brushed against your hip, and you felt your whole body heat up.

"You really want to pretend like that kiss meant nothing?" he asked softly.

You didn’t answer.

Because the truth?

You weren’t sure you could anymore.

George smirked. "Then stop me."

And then he kissed you again.

Slower this time. Less desperate, more intentional. Like he was proving a point.

And the worst part?

You let him.

Because George Clarke?

He had already won.

[chogiwow]

the law of unintended consequences. | jake sim (part two)

→ posits that actions often have unforeseen and unanticipated effects, which may be positive, negative, or neutral, that are not part of the actor's original intent. PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

pairing: astrophysicist jake x assistant reader

genre: co-workers to lovers

wc: part 1 – 20k | part 2 – 17.3k

warnings: even more slowburn than before lol, topics of abandonment issues, jake has his first kiss, makeouts, some touching (that's as far as it goes), cheesy ass astronomy rizz :'D

a/n: part 2 finally here !!!! guys, i think i'll complete it in one more part, we haven't even got to the juicy parts, they're both still Realising their feelings for each other i'm really taking the slowburn to another level :'D posting this now since i have a busy weekend ahead and it'll take some time for the final part to come out, so enjoy <3

nine.

jake wasn't sure when he started noticing the small things.

it wasn't dramatic. it wasn't some grand realization, some epiphany that crashed into him like a runaway train. no, it was more like a slow leak in the ceiling – subtle at first, barely noticeable, until one day, he looked up and realized the whole thing was caving in.

you were still there. still at your desk. still doing your job. but something had changed.

for one, you no longer lingered.

before, you used to wait by his desk after reminding him of a meeting, hovering until he actually got up because you knew how prone he was to getting lost in his own head. you used to place his coffee just within reach of his right hand, knowing that he’d grab it without looking. you used to let out these small sighs when he worked through lunch, before eventually caving and placing a takeout container beside him with an exasperated, “at least eat before you starve.”

but now? now, you just told him his schedule and left. you still got his lunch, but it was left on the side of his desk, impersonal. you still reminded him about meetings, but you never waited for him to actually stand up. and the worst part? he knew it was because of him. because he had snapped at you. because he had made you feel like you had overstepped when, in reality, you were just doing what you had always done – taking care of him.

the guilt sat heavy in his stomach.

well, he had got what he had wanted, right? he had told you to stop caring, to make yourself scarce, and you were doing just that. you were back to being background noise again, the week before had probably just been a blip in time. maybe none of it had even happened – he hadn’t been late to his meeting, he hadn’t spent an entire evening with you sorting through his emails, he hadn’t brought you coffee like a delirious fool. he hadn’t snapped at you – acknowledged your efforts and put you down regardless.

there’s a law in physics, the law of unintended consequences.

jake had spent his life studying the rules that governed the universe. he had built entire theories on cause and effect, on how one action – one force – could change the course of everything around it. but there was a gap in every equation, an unpredictable variable that not even the most meticulous calculations could predict.

it was a rule he had known but never thought to apply to his own life.

and yet, here he was, watching as you followed the letter of his words but not the spirit. he had wanted distance. he had told you as much in sharp, thoughtless words. he had thought, idiotically, that space would bring things back to how they used to be.

instead, it had set something irreversible in motion.

at first, he told himself it was fine. he had bigger things to focus on, deadlines to meet, research papers to finalize. but the problem with noticing something was that you couldn’t stop noticing it. you were efficient, precise, the perfect assistant; exactly as you had been before.

except now, he felt the absence of you.

before, he never had to wonder if he’d make it to meetings on time. you would wait, standing by his desk with that look, the one that told him you knew he’d ignore you if you gave him even a second of leeway. but now? you simply reminded him and left. no hovering. no pointed sighs. no exasperated nudges to get moving.

and then there was the coffee.

it was a small thing, but jake noticed. before, the cup would be exactly where he needed it, always within reach of his dominant hand. a quiet, unconscious act of care. now? it was placed neatly at the edge of his desk, just out of immediate reach. he had to go out of his way to grab it.

it was ridiculous, the way these tiny details unsettled him.

he told himself it didn’t matter. that he had asked for this. that he shouldn’t be so thrown off by things he never even realized he relied on.

and yet.

he wasn’t sure what did it.

maybe it was the moment he saw you cleaning up a stack of files and, in your hurry, ran your hand along the sharp edge of a paper cutter. you barely reacted, shaking off the small drop of blood, about to move on like nothing happened. but something in jake stilled.

something made him sit still and watch like a creep through the crack of his door as you paused in your actions and moved your finger to your lips, gently sucking on the wound till the bleeding stopped.

it was such a small act. so innocent, something akin to a first aid, but his breath hitched. his breath hitched when his eyes tracked your actions, your hand going back to sorting through files, your wound long forgotten.

his body moved before his mind could catch up, his chair scraping against the floor as he stood.

for the first time in days, you actually looked surprised when he placed a bandaid in your palm instead of just tossing it onto your desk.

“you should be more careful,” he said, his voice coming out gruff, almost scolding.

you blinked at him, clearly thrown off, before your expression shuttered back into polite professionalism. “it’s just a small cut.”

jake clenched his jaw. he knew that. of course he knew that. but that wasn’t the point, was it?

still, you thanked him with a nod, applied the bandaid, and carried on like nothing had happened.

and that should have been the end of it.

but it wasn’t.

because jake, who had always been so good at solving problems, had stumbled upon one that didn’t fit neatly into any equation.

the unintended consequence of his distance wasn’t just that you stopped lingering. it was that he now felt like an observer in his own life, watching as something essential slipped away, and—

and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

jake had never been one to believe in regret. he made decisions, and he lived with them. he adjusted. he recalibrated. he hadn’t cared much when only his mom could make it to his annual school competitions, doing her best to cheer louder, to compensate for the missing person in his life. he hadn’t given two shits when people in high school had stared and pointed at him like he had been an anomaly. not when his overbearing aunts had disguised their praises for him as something he should inherently be able to do to make up for the absence of the person in his life.

he hadn’t wasted time pondering upon silly questions like ‘was i not enough?’ or ‘was i not lovable enough for him to stay?’.

even in his young mind, those had seemed futile questions, ones he would never have an answer to and therefore, not worth his time.

but now, he was finding himself staring too long at the empty space you used to fill. he was realizing that, for someone who prided himself on understanding the fundamental laws of the universe, he had overlooked the most important one.

he had always thought that if he pushed something away, it would eventually return to its natural place. like gravity pulling a comet back into orbit.

but now, he wasn’t so sure.

now he was actually questioning things – emotions, feelings, hurt.

had he hurt you?

but why would he care? why would he start now? why would you care about him to the point that you would let his ineptitude hurt you?

jake didn’t consider himself the kind of person who fixated on things. he was methodical, pragmatic, someone who could compartmentalize problems into neat little boxes and only open them when absolutely necessary.

but this?

this was a crack in the foundation he hadn’t accounted for.

he told himself it was fine – your distance, your absence, the way you had begun to retreat from him in increments so small he might not have noticed if he weren’t already looking for them. he told himself he had wanted this, and that it didn’t matter.

and yet.

jake found himself watching. noticing. keeping track of the subtle ways you had begun to slip from his periphery, like sand through his fingers.

before, he had always known where you were. even if he wasn’t actively looking, you were just there, orbiting around him in a way that felt natural, unshakable. but now? now, he caught himself scanning the office for you, only to realize you were nowhere nearby. it wasn’t that you weren’t working – you were still efficient, still meticulous, still the perfect assistant – but you were no longer his constant.

the worst part? he had no idea why it bothered him so much.

he kept trying to rationalize it, to shove the thought into a mental folder labeled irrelevant and move on. but it was harder than he expected.

because there were moments, tiny and fleeting, where he thought he caught glimpses of something deeper beneath your polite professionalism. a hesitation before answering him. the way your lips pressed together just slightly when he handed you a stack of papers without so much as a please or thank you. the way you never quite met his eyes for too long anymore.

it had been a series of choices, he realized. small, inconsequential decisions that had snowballed into something much bigger than he had ever intended.

like the way he had dismissed you, snapping at you in a moment of frustration. he hadn’t thought twice about it then – just another conversation, another fleeting exchange in the middle of an exhausting day. but the weight of it lingered, heavy and suffocating, because now he could see the ripple effect in real time.

he had thought pushing you away would return things to normal. instead, it had left him standing in the ruins of something he hadn’t even realized was important to him.

and the most frustrating part? he didn’t know how to fix it.

jake wasn’t used to being at a loss. he had built his life around solutions, around having the answers before anyone even knew there was a problem. but this? this wasn’t a puzzle he could solve with logic or calculations. this was different. this was messy and human and something he didn’t even fully understand himself.

so he did what he always did when faced with something he couldn’t control – he observed.

he started paying closer attention. he told himself it wasn’t because of you, not really, just a vague curiosity that had no deeper meaning. but then he noticed how you laughed more with others now. how you lingered in conversations with coworkers, how your shoulders relaxed when you weren’t around him.

it was disorienting, realizing that you had found ways to exist outside of him. that you had always been capable of doing so, but he had just never seen it before.

and maybe that was what unsettled him the most.

one afternoon, he caught himself staring at the untouched coffee on his desk. it had gone cold. the same coffee you had placed there earlier, just slightly out of reach, like an afterthought.

jake had always taken for granted that it would be there. he had never even considered the effort behind it, the simple, thoughtless care that had gone into something as small as placing it within easy reach.

but now, staring at the lukewarm liquid, he felt something uncomfortable twist in his chest.

he didn’t like it.

he didn’t like how things felt off-kilter. how he had let something slip between his fingers without even realizing what it was. he didn’t like how aware he was of your absence now, how much space you had unknowingly occupied in his life before you started retreating.

it was frustrating, this gnawing feeling of wrongness.

so he did something stupid.

“hey,” he said one evening, catching you just as you were gathering your things to leave.

you blinked at him, clearly surprised. “yes?”

he hesitated for a fraction of a second. he hadn’t actually thought this far ahead.

“i—” he cleared his throat. “did you—uh. did you send the reports to finance?”

your brows furrowed slightly. “yes. i emailed them over earlier.”

“right. okay.” he shifted, feeling uncharacteristically awkward. “thanks.”

you nodded, waiting for a beat. when he didn’t say anything else, you adjusted your bag on your shoulder. “alright. goodnight, dr. sim.”

and then you were gone.

jake exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. what the fuck was that?

that wasn’t what he had meant to say. it wasn’t what he wanted to ask. but the words had lodged themselves in his throat, heavy and unfamiliar.

because what had he wanted to say?

had he wanted to tell you he noticed? that he missed something he couldn’t even name? that for someone who prided himself on understanding the fundamental laws of the universe, he had failed to account for the one thing he should have seen coming?

gravity.

every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

he had pushed you away. and now, he wasn’t sure how to pull you back in.

jake sat back in his chair, staring at the empty doorway where you had just been.

he needed to fix this. he needed to rise up from his inability to form human bonds or interact like a normal functioning adult. he had never felt the need to do so before, but for once – he wanted to. at least try and make amends.

because  jake never meant to offend anyone, much rather put them down. but he had done, willingly so this time around. but he wasn’t so broken as to not hold on to the semblance of a decent human being and not apologise.

he needed to fix this. he just didn’t know how yet.

ten.

its 10:09 am when the phone on your desk rings.

your fingers hesitate for a second before picking it up, already half-expecting it to be a mundane request from another department. but the voice on the other end is unfamiliar.

“hello, this is dr. sim’s office, correct?”

you straighten slightly at the mention of jake’s name. “yes, this is his assistant speaking. how can i help you?”

the woman on the other end exhales, relief threading through her voice. “oh, thank god. i’ve been trying to reach him, but he’s not answering his cell. can you please tell him his mother is calling? it’s urgent.”

your breath stills. his mother? you’ve never spoken to her before, but something about the way she sounds – strained, worried – has your heart clenching instinctively.

“of course, ma’am. please hold for a moment.”

you press the receiver against your chest as you rise from your desk, walking toward jake’s office with quick steps. when you push the door open, you find him at his desk, eyes glued to his monitor, expression unreadable.

“dr. sim,” you say carefully. he barely glances up. “your mother is on the line.”

that gets his attention.

his head snaps up so fast it looks like it might hurt, and the second he sees your expression – neutral but carefully watching – something in his own face shifts. a split-second crack in his usual control.

his mother wouldn’t call the office unless something was wrong.

you see it the moment his mind catches up to the implication. his face goes pale, and he pushes back his chair roughly, standing so fast it scrapes against the floor.

“transfer it,” he says, voice clipped, but his hands are already trembling as he reaches for the phone on his desk.

you nod and return to yours, quickly pressing the button to connect the call. as soon as it clicks over, you hear his voice – lower now, tight with something close to dread.

“mom?”

you should turn away. you should focus on your work, give him the privacy he needs. but something keeps your gaze locked on him, even as you try not to make it obvious.

there’s a pause. then, whatever his mother says has the color draining from his face entirely.

his fingers clench around the phone. his jaw sets tight, lips parting slightly like he wants to say something, but no words come out.

then, finally, he exhales.

“when?” his voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it, a sharpness that makes your stomach twist.

another pause. then he nods, even though she can’t see him. “okay. i’ll be there.”

he hangs up.

for a moment, he just stands there, fingers still curled around the receiver like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. his head is slightly bowed, his shoulders tense.

and then he turns.

his eyes meet yours. and for the first time in a long time, you see something raw and unguarded in them. not frustration. not cold professionalism. something else entirely.

something that makes you forget, for just a moment, that things have been different between you. that there’s been an invisible wall between the two of you, made of everything unspoken.

“is everything—” you catch yourself. it’s not your place to ask. but the words are already out there. “is everything alright?”

he swallows. a muscle in his jaw jumps. he looks like he wants to say no. but he doesn’t.

instead, he exhales slowly, like he’s trying to ground himself. “i need to leave for a bit.”

“of course.” you hesitate, but then add, “do you need me to reschedule anything?”

he nods once, curtly. “yes. i’ll send you a list.”

the phone call had been brief – too brief for how he looked now. his face was pale, fingers twitching slightly at his sides as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. the usual sharp focus in his eyes was gone, replaced with something unsettled, something raw.

you had barely heard what he’d said when he hung up. just a quiet, clipped response before he set the phone down with unnatural care, as if it might shatter in his hands. then silence. a long, heavy silence that made you shift in your seat.

he’s already reaching for his coat, but the way he moves – it’s not the usual controlled efficiency he carries himself with. his hands are stiff, his grip on the fabric just a little too tight. like he’s barely holding himself together.

“…dr. sim?”

jake didn’t respond.

you hesitated, glancing toward the doorway of his office. no one else was around – just the two of you in this unsettling quiet. you had been ready to move on, to keep things professional, to pretend you weren’t still hyper-aware of the strange coldness that had settled between you both. but this? this wasn’t something you could ignore.

you took a step forward. “jake.”

his head snapped up.

it took you off guard, the way his gaze sharpened at the sound of his name. but then, just as quickly, the tension in his shoulders collapsed. his expression flickered – like a fault line deep underground, cracking beneath pressure.

you tried again, softer this time. “what happened?”

jake inhaled, but the breath barely reached his lungs. “it’s my mom.”

your stomach twisted.

you had remembered jake’s phone call with her a few days ago. how he had sounded so agitated back then. jake never spoke much about his family, but you knew enough to understand that she was important to him in ways he didn’t know how to express. that, for all his cold rationality, all his carefully measured distance, she was a gravitational force in his life that he could never quite pull away from.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice gentle.

jake didn’t answer right away. he looked at his hands – like he wasn’t sure when they had started shaking. when he finally spoke, his voice was low, nearly inaudible.

“she’s in the hospital.”

something in your chest tightened. “jake…”

he shook his head once, as if physically stopping himself from unraveling. “i—i need to go,” he said, already reaching for his coat, movements stiff. “i don’t—i can’t just sit here.”

“of course,” you said immediately. “do you want me to call someone? arrange a flight?”

“no,” he said, too quickly. he pressed his fingers to his temple, exhaling hard. “i’ll handle it.”

you watched him, watched the way he was barely keeping himself together. and despite everything, the growing distance, the unsaid things, you couldn’t just let him go like this.

“jake,” you said carefully, stepping closer. “let me help.”

for the first time in weeks, he met your gaze directly. and for the first time in weeks, you saw something unguarded in his eyes.

not calculation. not control.

just fear.

his throat bobbed. he looked like he wanted to say something – like he didn’t know how. but then his jaw clenched, and he nodded once, just slightly.

you reached for your phone. “i’ll book the next flight.”

jake exhaled slowly, as if grounding himself. he didn’t thank you – not verbally. but the way his shoulders loosened just slightly, the way his hands stopped trembling—

it was enough.

the drive to the airport was quiet.

jake was in the passenger seat, fingers curled into fists on his lap. he had barely spoken since leaving the office, only responding in brief nods or single words when necessary. the weight of the unknown pressed heavy between you both, thick like fog.

you had booked the first flight you could find, mere hours from the phone call and you had made sure he had gone back home immediately to pack his necessities. you knew you had a hard time coming with all the meetings and deadlines that needed to be pushed back, but that could wait. you had to make sure he was fine first.

you were in half a mind to offer to go along with him, but that would be crossing a line, right? afterall, you both were still at crossroads, still just assistant and employer. you couldn’t possibly even dare to suggest this in the first place.

when you pulled into the departure lane, you hesitated before reaching for his bag in the backseat. “are you sure you don’t want me to—”

“no,” jake said, shaking his head. his voice was hoarse. “you’ve done enough.”

you swallowed. he wasn’t saying it unkindly – just…tiredly. hollow in a way that didn’t suit him.

still, you lingered. you weren’t sure why. maybe it was because of the way he gripped the strap of his bag too tightly. maybe it was the way his breath came uneven, like he was bracing for something.

maybe it was because, for the first time, jake sim looked small.

he was out of his lab coat for the first time, a hastily found hoodie on his frame but his eyes. they looked so lost, so panicked and scared all at the same time, you couldn't even start to think what was going on in his mind. but you know for once that it hadn’t got anything to do with numbers and the universe.

you don’t know how to comfort him, not without knowing the situation and you definitely do not want to feed him empty reassurances. he would see right through them, the logical man that he was, he would probably even scoff at you for being presumptuous. so you do the best you can with the situation.

“i hope she’s okay,” you said quietly. “let me know when you land.”

he hesitated. then, finally, “yeah.”

“and don’t worry about work, i promise i’ll reschedule everything, take as much as you need.”

this, you mean too. because you will make sure of this, it’s the only thing you can do, to be quite honest. so you decide that you will, and you’ll give it your all.

you didn’t expect more. and yet, just as he was about to turn away, he stopped.

for a second, he looked like he might say something else. like he might let something slip through the cracks of whatever walls he had built between you both.

but then he just inhaled sharply and stepped away from the car, disappearing into the terminal without another word.

and you were left there, watching him go, wondering why it felt like something in you had gone with him.

eleven.

jake sat in his old car, the one his mom drove now. he had tried to convince her to buy a new one, but she insisted on using this beaten up junk he had used for most of his university life.

his day had been hectic, to say the least. he had touched down within two hours of leaving, all because you had managed to book him the earliest flight possible. his first stop had been the hospital where his mother had been admitted. she had fainted apparently, in the middle of a grocery store. someone had helped her and when she had come to, she had called jake immediately.

of course, as an understanding woman, she had hesitated before calling, but then she figured she’d be abandoning her son the way his father had, so without a second thought, she had called. she had buried the feeling that she was being a burden and explained to jake what had happened.

something very minor, a quick surgery would fix it, she’d be up and about in a week, but she would require someone by her side for that time.

jake talked to the doctors, a decision was made almost immediately, whatever his mother needed, he would do it. the surgery was in three days, she would not be in any major danger till then.

and then he had called you. well, he had called his front desk and asked to be transferred to you because he did not have your number.

“dr. sim?” your voice sounded distant and it only hurt a little that you didn’t call him by his first name like you had back then.

a long silence. then, his voice – low, rough, exhausted.

“she needs surgery.”

you had straightened in your chair. “surgery?”

“a minor procedure,” he clarified, though his voice sounded anything but reassured. “the doctors said she’ll be fine, but…”

he trailed off. you waited.

“but i don’t know if she wants me here.”

that was the part that made your stomach twist. not the surgery, not the hospital – those were tangible things, things jake could analyze and categorize, things with numbers and statistics and measurable risks. but this? the unspoken weight of old wounds, of things left unresolved between him and his mother?

this was something jake couldn’t quantify.

“dr. sim…” you started, hesitating. you weren’t sure if he wanted comfort, if he would even accept it. “i’m sure she’s glad you’re there.”

a dry, humorless chuckle crackled through the receiver. “i have been pushing her away for so long, i won’t blame her if she doesn't want me here.”

and he had done the same to you too. he had convinced himself that you did not need him or have any requirement of him in your life for it to function.

you closed your eyes. “have you talked to her?”

another pause. “not really.”

the admission had made something in your chest tighten.

“i don’t know what to say,” he muttered. “i don’t know if i should even be here.”

you exhaled slowly, gripping your phone tighter. “dr. sim, she called you.”

that made him pause.

“she called you,” you had repeated, softer this time. “if she didn’t want you there, she wouldn’t have.”

for a long time, there was nothing. just his breathing on the other end, slow and uneven. then, finally—

“maybe.”

it wasn’t certain, but it wasn’t dismissal either.

you had glanced down at your planner, at the list of tasks you still needed to get through before the day ended. none of them had seemed as important then.

“if you need anything,” you had said, voice steady, “just let me know.”

jake hadn’t responded right away. but when he finally did, it was quieter, softer than before.

“yeah,” he murmured. “thanks.”

and then the line went dead.

his hands rested now on the wheel, unmoving, but his mind was anything but still. he had been sitting there for ten minutes now, staring at the house in front of him, telling his mother to go on first, that he would follow soon after. it was the same house he had grown up in, the same porch light flickering against the damp evening air, the same worn-out welcome mat his mother refused to replace because she said it held memories.

memories.

jake hated memories.

but lately, they kept creeping in, unwelcome and persistent, just like the thoughts of you that he couldn’t seem to shake. he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before finally stepping out of the car. the moment he knocked on the door, it swung open almost immediately.

“come on in, i was starting to think you’d spend the night in that old thing.” his mother’s voice was warm but held that gentle chiding tone only mothers could master. she must have been waiting.

“yeah,” jake muttered, stepping inside. “sorry.”

his mother gave him a knowing look but didn’t push. instead, she motioned for him to sit at the kitchen table. it was strange, being back home. the familiarity was both comforting and suffocating.

they ate in silence for a while, the only sounds coming from the occasional clink of cutlery against ceramic. his mother had made all his favorite dishes, even before she knew he was coming like it was something she did regardless of whether or not her son was in town, and he hated how easily that made his chest tighten.

“so,” she finally said, breaking the quiet. “how’s jay? sunghoon?”

jake nodded. “they’re good.”

his mother hummed, waiting. jake knew she wasn’t just asking about them.

“and you?” she prompted.

“i’m fine,” he answered automatically.

her eyes softened, but she didn’t call him out on the lie. instead, she reached for his empty plate and stood to rinse it. that was always how it was between them. no forced conversations, no prying. just patience. it used to drive him crazy.

“you don’t visit as much anymore,” she said casually, but jake could hear the weight in her voice.

jake leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. “i’ve been busy.”

“too busy for your mother?”

his throat felt tight. “that’s not—” he sighed. “i don’t know.”

she shut off the sink and turned to him, drying her hands on a dish towel. “you’ve been running, jake.”

the words struck deep, hitting something raw inside him. he opened his mouth to deny it, but what was the point? she saw through him, as she always had.

“ever since your father left,” she continued, voice gentle but firm, “you’ve been running from anything that makes you feel too much. you push people away before they can leave you first.”

jake clenched his jaw. “that’s not true.”

her expression didn’t change. “isn’t it?”

he wanted to argue, but flashes of his past screamed otherwise. his father’s car pulling out of the driveway, his mother’s silent tears in the kitchen, the way he had stopped asking when his father would come back. how he had pulled away – from her, from the warmth she tried so hard to keep alive in their home. because what was the point? if his own father could leave so easily, then wasn’t everything temporary?

his mother sighed, walking over to sit beside him. “i don’t bring this up to hurt you, sweetheart. but i see the way you hold yourself back. you’ve always done that, even when you were a boy. you care, but you don’t let yourself feel it too deeply.”

jake exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around the edge of the kitchen table. the weight of his mother’s words settled heavily in his chest, pressing against old wounds he’d buried for too long.

“maybe,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

his mother didn’t gloat, didn’t press. she only gave him that quiet, patient look that somehow made him feel both seen and uncomfortably exposed. it was always like this with her – gentle in the ways that hurt the most.

“i know why you’ve been distant,” she said softly, moving back to the table. “and i know it’s not just about me.”

jake stilled. he knew what was coming next. he could feel it in the way his mother studied him, in the way her eyes carried an understanding he wasn’t ready to face.

“you always bottle things up,” she continued, her voice steady. “you don’t let yourself get attached. you let people slip away before they even have the chance to stay.” she paused, letting her words settle.

then— “but there’s someone you don’t want to let go of, isn’t there?”

jake’s breath hitched. his immediate instinct was to deny it, to shut down the conversation before it could go any further. but the words refused to form.

because she was right.

because for the first time in years, there was someone – someone who had slipped into his life so effortlessly, so quietly, that he hadn’t noticed until the absence of their presence started to eat away at him. someone whose voice still echoed in his head, whose absence left a hollowness he couldn’t explain away.

you.

his mother didn’t push. she just waited, as she always had, offering a space that was safe even when it didn’t feel like it. and maybe it was the exhaustion from the past few days, or maybe it was the fact that, for once, he didn’t want to run from this conversation.

jake exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

his mother simply hummed, waiting.

“i’m… off,” he admitted, hesitating. “lately, everything feels – wrong. like i’m forgetting something important, like i’m missing something. but i don’t know what to do about it.”

his mother tilted her head slightly. “and does this have something to do with the person you called earlier?”

jake’s fingers twitched against the table. “i didn’t call her directly,” he muttered, because even now, he wasn’t sure if he could handle what saying your name out loud would do to him. “i had to go through the front desk to reach her.”

his mother smiled knowingly. “that’s not the point, sweetheart.”

jake swallowed. he knew. he knew exactly what she was getting at.

“it’s just… she’s just been there,” he found himself saying, his voice hesitant. “always so put together, always knowing exactly what i need before i even have to ask. it’s like she—” he stopped himself before he could say too much, but his mother was already watching him with an expression that told him she understood more than he wanted her to.

“she takes care of you.”

jake’s jaw clenched. “yeah.”

“and you don’t know what to do with that.”

his laugh was hollow, humorless. “i don’t think i deserve it.”

his mother sighed, her eyes soft. “jake.”

he shook his head, leaning back against the chair. “i hurt her.”

the words felt heavier than he expected. saying them out loud made them real, made them impossible to ignore.

his mother didn’t look surprised. “how?”

jake hesitated. he wasn’t sure where to begin. it wasn’t just one thing – it was everything. the way he’d dismissed you, the way he’d taken you for granted, the way he’d let you become part of his routine without ever stopping to consider what that meant.

“i pushed her away,” he admitted, his voice tight. “i didn’t even realize i was doing it until it was too late. and now…”

his mother’s gaze was patient, understanding. “and now?”

jake exhaled slowly. “now, i feel like i’m losing my mind.”

his mother’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “because change terrifies you. and she’s become part of your life in a way you never expected.”

jake stared at the table, his thoughts a tangled mess. “i don’t even know when it happened,” he murmured. “i just… one day, she was there. and now, when she’s not – it feels wrong.”

his mother reached across the table, placing a gentle hand over his. “that sounds a lot like caring, jake.”

he let out a slow, shaky breath. “maybe.”

his mother squeezed his hand. “sweetheart, i’ve watched you close yourself off for so long. and i know you think it’s safer that way. but it’s okay to let people in. it’s okay to care.”

jake closed his eyes. he wanted to believe that. he really did.

“i don’t know how to fix this.”

his mother’s smile was sad but encouraging. “then start by not running away.”

jake swallowed hard, her words settling deep inside him. for the first time in a long while, he felt like maybe – just maybe – he didn’t want to run anymore.

jake’s fingers curled against the table. “i don’t know how i feel about this.”

his mother reached out, resting a hand over his. “that’s okay. but don’t let your fear stop you from figuring it out.”

jake didn’t respond. he didn’t know how.

his mother sighed, squeezing his hand once before letting go. “just don’t push her away, jake. don’t make the same mistake your father did.”

the words hit harder than he expected. he wasn’t like his father. he refused to be. but deep down, he knew – he had spent so much time trying to avoid being hurt that he had been the one keeping others at arm’s length.

maybe that needed to change.

later that night, as he lay in his childhood bedroom staring at the ceiling, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. the way you carried yourself, the way you fought for your place, the way you—

the way you made him feel.

jake turned onto his side, exhaling heavily. maybe it was time to stop running. maybe, for once, he needed to stay.

twelve.

you sat at your desk, staring at the chaotic schedule in front of you. jake had only been gone a few days, but it felt like an entire month’s worth of work had piled up. between rescheduling meetings, handling review dates, and ensuring the interns didn’t completely destroy the office system, your plate was overflowing. but that was your job. and you were good at it.

jake’s absence, however, made things feel heavier.

you had never been more aware of how much of your day revolved around him until he wasn’t here. normally, he’d be in his office, shooting you the occasional exasperated look over paperwork, or stepping out to ask for another coffee despite already having two. you had gotten used to the rhythm of his presence, the way it filled spaces without needing to demand attention.

now, that presence was gone, and you were left to make sure everything didn’t completely fall apart before he returned.

you let out a sigh, rubbing your temples before picking up your phone. another call, another problem to solve.

by the time jake’s return was only a few days away, you were running on caffeine and sheer determination. you had managed to keep everything under control, but it had taken everything out of you. your mind barely had space to wander – except for the brief moments when you remembered your last conversation with jake. the way his voice had sounded so lost, the hesitation behind his words.

but you couldn’t dwell on that. he wasn’t here. and when he came back, things would fall back into place.

a knock on your office door snapped you from your thoughts. you looked up to see one of your colleagues peeking in.

“hey, dr. sim called. he asked for you specifically.”

you blinked. “me?”

“yeah. said he wanted to check in.”

you hesitated for a moment before grabbing the office phone and dialing the number.

it barely rang once before he picked up. “y/n.”

his voice was different. not as tired as before, but still carrying something heavy. you straightened in your chair. “dr. sim. you called?”

a pause. then, “yeah. i just… wanted to check in. how’s everything?”

you glanced at the never-ending list on your screen. “under control.”

jake let out a small huff, almost like a laugh. “of course it is.”

silence stretched between you, and for a moment, you weren’t sure what else to say. but then his voice softened. “thank you. for everything. i know it’s been a lot.”

you smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “that’s my job, dr. sim.”

jake inhaled sharply, like the words had physically hurt him.

your job.

like this was just a role, a duty to fulfill. like you were only here because of professional obligation, not because you had ever cared beyond that.

and maybe that was the worst part – knowing that at some point, you had cared. that at some point, he had meant more to you. but now, all that remained was distance, formality.

“right,” he said after a moment, his voice unreadable. “i’ll be back soon.”

“of course. safe travels.”

the call ended before either of you could say more, but the weight of it lingered. you sat there for a long time, staring at your desk, trying to push away the uneasy feeling settling in your chest.

meanwhile, on the other end of the line, jake sat in his childhood home, gripping his phone tighter than necessary. for the first time in a long time, he felt like he had lost something important.

and he had no idea how to get it back.

jay keeps him updated, the way you’re single handedly managing his schedule, making sure kang doesn’t fire his ass straight up (not that he would, jake’s too much of a genius for that to happen). but more than that, jay spoke of the way you kept things running, how you barely took a break, how you worked yourself to exhaustion, making sure everything was still intact for when jake returned.

jake listened in silence, the pit in his stomach growing heavier with each passing word. you had always been efficient, always been reliable. but there was something about the way jay talked about you now – how you were overextending yourself, how you hardly left your desk unless necessary – that made him uneasy.

by the time he finally stepped back into the office, the weight of unfinished conversations, of unspoken words, was pressing heavily on his shoulders. his absence had given him clarity, but clarity didn’t mean anything if he didn’t act on it.

when jake does come back, it’s a surprise to you too. he hadn’t called in advance, hadn’t mentioned anything, hadn’t even asked you to book a flight. just shown up to work on a thursday like he hadn’t been on a leave the past week.

it surprised you, you thought you were hallucinating.

jake was the same, yet different. he was still dressed impeccably, his dark suit fitted just right, his tie slightly loosened as if he had already had a long morning. but his eyes – those damn eyes – were sharp when they landed on you, scanning you like he was seeing you for the first time in months, not weeks.

“morning.” his voice was smooth, composed. if he was affected by anything, he didn’t let it show.

you forced herself to breathe. “morning.”

a pause later, you added, “how’s your mom?”

jake smiles, faintly. he looks tired, but also like he was well rested. like the week away from his office had given him the rest he had deserved.

“she’s fine,” he says, and you realise you had missed the warmth of his voice, “she’s recovering pretty fast.”

you nod, thankful that things were alright. you want to say something more, ask him how he was doing, ask him ask him if he’s really okay.

the words sit on your tongue, hesitant, unwilling to be spoken. you don't know if you have the right to ask anymore.

jake, for his part, watches you like he’s waiting for something. like he’s expecting you to say more, but when you don’t, he only nods. there’s something restrained in his expression, something that makes you feel like there’s more he wants to say too – but neither of you does.

instead, the moment passes.

“i should—” you gesture vaguely to your desk, to the endless tasks that had piled up in his absence. “i didn’t know you were coming back today, if you want , i can set your schedule up today. maybe a meeting in an hour with director kang, if you’re up for it, and then a review session with the legal team later in the afternoon. i can send the details to your email.”

jake exhales, eyes flickering to his office door. you’re rambling and he finds it amusing. or endearing. the thought of the latter feeling makes him tighten his hold over his bag, but he doesn’t look away, just nods along to whatever you say.

afterall, you know what’s best.

“right. i’ll look through it.”

you nod once, curt, and then turn back to your screen, as if that conversation hadn’t just been something fragile, something that could’ve cracked open if you had let it. you think that’s the end of it. that he’ll walk away, go back to his office, and things will return to the way they were.

but jake doesn’t move.

he lingers.

and then, in a voice softer than before, he says, “thank you, y/n.”

your fingers pause over your keyboard.

it’s not the words themselves that make your breath hitch – it’s the way he says them. the way they aren’t just polite acknowledgments, aren’t just an empty phrase meant to brush past the weight of everything left unsaid. no, this is different.

this is him meaning it.

this is gratitude in its truest form, held in his voice like it’s something delicate.

you inhale slowly, schooling your expression before you look up at him again. “of course,” you reply, but the words feel distant, like they don’t quite match the way your heart stumbles against your ribs.

jake’s lips press together, as if he wants to say something more. but then jay appears, calling out to him from the other side of the office, and the moment snaps in half.

just like that, he’s gone.

for most part of the day though, jake is drowning in work.

it had been that way since he got back – nonstop reviews, overflowing emails, projects that had stalled in his absence. the moment he stepped into the office, he had been pulled in every direction, barely given room to breathe. and he let it happen. work was easier to focus on. it was something he could control.

but every now and then, between the numbers and the reports, he felt it – the weight of your presence just beyond his reach.

you were there. moving around the office, talking to coworkers, slipping in and out of the conference room with files in hand. he caught glimpses of you in passing, his eyes drawn to you more times than he could count. you weren’t avoiding him anymore, not like before, but the distance was still there – an unspoken, lingering thing between you both.

he wanted to talk to you. he really did. but every time he so much as turned in your direction, something else demanded his attention – a call, an urgent email, a meeting running longer than expected. so he buried himself in work, knowing that if he just got through all of it, if he could just clear his plate, then maybe he could finally sit down with you. no interruptions. no distractions. just you and him.

but the day passed, and the timing was never right. not until lunch.

he didn’t notice at first – too caught up in his screen, typing away furiously. but when he finally leaned back to stretch, his eyes landed on your figure, knuckles raised against his door as if you were just about to knock.

your eyes widen as if you had been caught doing something scandalous, but you school your expression, clearing your throat hastily.

“you should eat,” you said, voice careful. “it’s been a long day, and it's only going to get busier later. dr. lee called for an impromptu review at four pm.”

you sound apologetic, almost as if you’re the one who put him through this predicament, especially after his first day back.

for a second, he just stared at you. it had been so long since you had done something like this for him. since you had even looked at him like this – cautious, hesitant, but still caring. and for the first time in what felt like forever, the words weren’t automatic, weren’t distant.

jake exhales, pushing away from his desk. his shoulders ache, his mind heavy from the sheer amount of work waiting for him, but for the first time today, his focus shifts entirely – to you.

you’re still standing there, waiting for his response.

his gaze flickers over your expression, taking in the way you hover, like you’re unsure if you should even be here. like you’re debating whether you should have said anything at all.

and suddenly, he doesn’t want you to leave just yet.

jake clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “have you eaten?”

you blink, clearly thrown off.

“uh,” you hesitate. “no, not yet.”

jake nods once, contemplative. then, without overthinking it, he pushes back his chair, standing to grab his coat.

“let’s go, then.”

your brain stutters. “go where?”

“lunch.” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. like it’s not entirely unprecedented and completely out of character for him to suggest something like this.

you stare at him, almost suspicious. “like, together?”

a corner of his mouth twitches, though he quickly tamps it down. “yes, y/n. together.”

you should say no. you should.

because this? this is dangerous territory. jake doesn’t ask you to lunch. he doesn’t ask you for anything, really – at least, nothing that doesn’t pertain to work.

but then he tilts his head ever so slightly, waiting. and maybe it’s the exhaustion talking, maybe it’s the way your stomach actually growls at the worst possible moment, or maybe it’s just that he’s looking at you like that.

like he’s trying.

“…okay,” you say before you can stop yourself.

jake nods, satisfied, before leading the way out of his office.

thirteen.

the café jake picked was a little ways away from the office, tucked into a quieter street lined with small shops. it wasn’t anything extravagant – just a cozy place with warm lighting and a surprisingly extensive menu. you weren’t sure what you expected, but it definitely wasn’t this.

“you come here often?” you asked as you both settled into a table near the window.

jake hummed, glancing over the menu. “not really. but i figured somewhere away from the office would be better.”

you blinked, caught off guard by his thoughtfulness. “oh.”

he didn’t elaborate, just focused on the menu like this was something normal. like he hadn’t just, for the first time in forever, actively chosen to spend time with you outside of work.

the waitress arrived, and after a quick back-and-forth (in which jake somehow convinced you to order something other than your usual go-to sandwich), you were left with nothing but your drinks and the thick air of unspoken words.

“so,” you started, wrapping your hands around your cup. “how’s your mom doing?”

jake leaned back slightly, fingers tapping idly against the table. “better. still recovering, but she’s been more energetic these past few days.”

“that’s good to hear.”

“she actually told me to stop hovering over her,” he added, lips twitching in amusement. “said i was more of a nuisance than a help.”

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “i can imagine. you don’t seem like the type to sit still when you’re worried.”

jake’s brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t deny it. “you’re not wrong.”

there was a beat of silence, comfortable this time. jake studied you for a moment before tilting his head slightly. “what about you?”

you frowned. “what about me?”

he shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “how have you been? you’ve basically been running the office while i was gone.”

“it’s nothing i couldn’t handle,” you said, brushing it off.

jake wasn’t convinced. “jay made it sound like you barely had time to breathe.”

you huffed, shaking your head. “jay exaggerates.”

“does he?”

you hesitated. “okay, maybe a little. but it’s my job. it’s what i do.”

something flickered in his expression, but before you could dissect it, he changed the subject. “what do you do after work?”

you blinked. “huh?”

“when you’re not running the office or making sure i don’t completely destroy my schedule—what do you do?”

you narrowed your eyes, suspicious. “why do you want to know?”

jake smirked slightly, but there was a sincerity behind it. “just curious.”

you hesitated for a moment before sighing. “not much, honestly. i usually just go home, maybe read a little. sometimes i go out with friends, but it depends on the day.”

jake hummed, nodding. “sounds… peaceful.”

“sometimes.” you tilted your head. “what about you? when you’re not buried in research papers or ignoring kang’s calls?”

jake exhaled a laugh. “ignoring kang is a full-time job in itself.”

you snorted, shaking your head. but you’re also slightly malfunctioning. never in a million years would you have even imagined that you’d be sitting across jake sim, making small talk. is this a dream?

“but,” he continued, “i guess i read, too. or watch documentaries. i used to play soccer more, but it’s been a while.”

your brows lifted slightly. “soccer? really?”

jake smirked. “what, don’t believe me?”

this side of him is new. the smirk, the unguarded laughs, the way he sometimes bites his lips. you will yourself to stay calm, clench your fingers in your lap and exhale slowly.

you shrugged. “i just can’t picture you running around on a field when you’re usually glued to your computer.”

“i contain multitudes,” he said, mock-offended.

you rolled your eyes, but the smile lingered.

then, seemingly out of nowhere, he asked, “so, are you seeing anyone?”

your entire brain short-circuited.

“wh—what?”

jake leaned back, utterly unbothered. “you know. dating. boyfriend, girlfriend, situationship. whatever people call it these days.”

you stared at him. “why do you want to know?”

he shrugged, playing it cool. “just making conversation.”

your eyes narrowed slightly, but you answered anyway. “no. not at the moment.”

jake nodded slowly, almost like he was committing that information to memory.

you crossed your arms. “and you?”

his expression didn’t change. “no.”

“not even someone waiting for you to finally look up from your research and realize they exist?”

jake exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “not that i know of.”

you hummed, unconvinced, but let it go.

for a moment, the conversation lulled, and then you found yourself blurting, “why did you choose astrophysics?”

jake glanced up, slightly surprised by the question. but after a beat, his lips curled up faintly. “you really want to know?”

you shrugged. “i wouldn’t have asked if i didn’t.”

he leaned forward slightly, his voice taking on that familiar, passionate undertone he always had when he spoke about his field. “i guess it started when i was a kid. i always liked figuring things out, but space… space is different. it’s infinite, unpredictable. the more you learn, the more you realize how much you don’t know.”

you watched him, absorbed by the way his eyes lit up as he spoke.

“it’s terrifying,” he admitted, a small grin playing on his lips. “but it’s also incredible. there are entire galaxies out there, black holes that warp time, planets that could be habitable. the laws of physics as we know them could be completely different somewhere else.”

you smiled slightly, resting your chin on your hand. “you sound like you’re in love with it.”

jake blinked at you, momentarily thrown off.

then, he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “maybe i am.”

and for some reason, something about that made your chest feel oddly tight.

the food arrived then, breaking the moment. but as you both ate, the conversation continued – easier now, lighter. and you didn’t miss the way jake kept looking at you, like he was memorizing this, like he was finally realizing that outside of the office, outside of schedules and meetings and deadlines, there was you.

and maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to miss out on that anymore.

jake walks beside you as you both make your way back to the office, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his coat. the lunch had been... nice. unexpected, but nice. and now, as the two of you walk in comfortable silence, he seems more at ease than you’ve seen him in a long time.

then, without warning, he speaks.

"did you know that if you fell into a black hole, time would slow down for you compared to someone watching from the outside?" his voice is contemplative, as if he’s only now realizing he said it out loud.

you blink, caught off guard. "um. no?"

jake nods, as if he expected that. "yeah. it’s called time dilation. the closer you get to the event horizon – the point of no return – the slower time moves for you, relative to everyone else. so technically, if you could somehow escape, you’d find that far more time had passed for the rest of the universe than for you."

you process his words, lips twitching. "so what you're saying is... if i ever want to time travel, i should just jump into a black hole?"

jake huffs out a laugh. "not unless you want to be spaghettified."

you stop mid-step. "spaghettified?"

he turns his head, eyes glinting with amusement. "yeah. because of the intense gravitational pull, your body would stretch into thin strands, like spaghetti. it’s called ‘spaghettification.’"

you let out a short laugh, shaking your head. "you’re messing with me."

"i swear i’m not." he grins, and for a moment, you see a different version of him – one without the weight of responsibilities or expectations pressing down on him. "the gravitational pull at your feet would be much stronger than at your head, so you’d get stretched out like a noodle before—" he snaps his fingers. "—being ripped apart."

you stare at him, utterly baffled. "what a horrifying way to go."

"oh, absolutely," he says, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "but theoretically, if the black hole was big enough, you might not even notice you’d crossed the event horizon. you’d just... fall. forever."

you don’t know what’s funnier – the fact that he’s so nonchalant about it, or the fact that he’s clearly enjoying this little tangent.

"so, the moral of the story," you say, crossing your arms, "avoid black holes."

jake chuckles, the sound low and genuine. "exactly."

for a moment, the two of you just walk, and you realize something – you actually like listening to him talk about this. there’s something comforting about the way he explains things, the way he gets lost in his own thoughts, his usual guardedness slipping away as he speaks about something he genuinely loves.

you glance at him, curious. you suddenly wonder about the jake sim you don’t know about. the one who apparently plays soccer and reads for leisure at home. what does he read? books on astrophysics? does he read fiction? does he have a favourite soccer team? does he still watch matches?

the more you imagine, the more you want to know.

who is jake sim outside of the brilliant astrophysicist you’re an assistant to?

but you don’t have to wonder too long. you’re already at the office doors and jake pushes them open first, holding them so you can step inside before him.

and that’s when jay sees you.

he’s standing near the entrance of the cafeteria, cup of coffee in hand, and the moment he spots the two of you stepping in together, his brows shoot up to his hairline. his eyes flicker between you and jake, and then – because he’s jay – his lips curl into a knowing smirk.

"well, well," he drawls, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "look who decided to have a little lunch date."

you freeze. "it wasn’t a—"

jake, to your surprise, doesn’t even flinch. he merely tugs off his coat, shrugging. "we were hungry."

jay’s smirk deepens. "uh-huh. sure."

you roll your eyes and push past him, but not before catching the way jay mouths "okay, i see y’all" at you behind jake’s back.

you ignore him.

you ignore the warmth in your chest too. however, if you know jay, you’d know that he’s anything but dismissive. that’s how you find yourself cornered in the printer room not even twenty minutes later.

jake had barely settled back into his office when you made your way to the printer room, hoping to grab some reports before his next meeting. it was supposed to be a quick trip – get in, get out, avoid any unnecessary interactions. but, of course, jay had other plans.

you didn’t even hear him coming.

“so.”

you nearly jumped out of your skin. “jesus—”

jay leaned against the printer, arms crossed, watching you with an all-too-knowing look.

you should’ve known. the moment you and jake had stepped into the office together, jay had been watching. his eyes had flickered between the two of you, brows raised ever so slightly, but he hadn’t said anything much at the time. which, in retrospect, had been a warning in itself.

and now, here he was, looking way too entertained for your liking.

“what do you want?” you asked, feigning nonchalance as you grabbed the stack of papers.

jay grinned. “oh, i don’t know. just wondering how your little lunch date went.”

you almost dropped the reports. “it wasn’t a date.”

“sure,” he nodded sagely. “just two colleagues, having lunch together, alone, outside the office, for the first time ever.”

you exhaled sharply, fixing him with a look. “he asked. i said yes. that’s it.”

jay hummed, unconvinced. “and what did you two talk about?”

“nothing special.”

“uh-huh. so, just to be clear,” jay continued, tilting his head, “jake sim—our very own resident workaholic, who has never once asked you out to lunch—randomly decides to do so today, and you think that means nothing?”

you shifted, feeling cornered. “jay—”

“because, and hear me out,” he interrupted, grinning wider, “it kinda seems like he’s making an effort.”

you blinked, lips parting slightly, but no words came out.

jay watched as realization flickered across your face, the way your fingers tightened around the papers in your grasp. and then he smirked, patting your shoulder before sauntering off, leaving you standing there, replaying the conversation in your head.

making an effort.

no. no way.

…right?

fourteen.

it started, as most things did between you and jake, with work.

you had long since grown used to your role as his assistant, leaving meticulous reminders on his desk so that he wouldn’t conveniently forget to review reports or attend meetings. it was a well-oiled system by now. you left him a note, he (sometimes) actually followed through, and the world kept spinning.

but now there was a comfortable dynamic starting to form between you two.

now jake would stop by your desk for a whole minute, greeting you warmly and in fact, he had started receiving his coffee from you at your desk itself.

there was always a polite but warm ‘good morning’ and ‘thanks for the coffee’ greeting you. and you liked it. you liked that jake would mirror your smile. the first time he had smiled at you – like, openly grinned, with his eyes crinkling – you had been blindsighted. you were probably too shocked to even return the gesture, sitting still for a whole minute, imprinting and memorizing the sight you had just been graced with in your memory.

turns out, you didn’t have to memorise it, because you were suddenly a regular recipient of it. every damn morning. well, it certainly was one reason to start looking forward to your mondays.

this was still jake, he was still the same old sleeves rolled up deep in calculations person inside his office. but when he passed by you? or when you entered his office? a permanent grin etched on his face. those eyes that had been focused on some report? positively sparkling behind his thick rimmed glasses.

he was suddenly starting to resemble a puppy in you reyes and the more you sneaked glances at him, the more you were concerned of this comparison.

so when you left a neatly written sticky note on his desk one evening—"reminder: review kang’s quarterly report before 10 am meeting tomorrow."— you thought nothing of it.

the next morning, you arrived to find the note on your desk. only, something had been added beneath your writing, in jake’s neat, slanted script:

"did you know that the universe is expanding at an accelerating rate? just like kang’s expectations."

you blinked. then blinked again. what the hell?

you turned your head toward his office, where the glass door remained shut, jake nowhere in sight. he had to have done this late last night. and he hadn’t even addressed your reminder – just hit you with a completely random space fact.

you thought it was a one time thing. maybe he saw the post notes on your desk and decided to leave one for the fun of it?

the next evening, after finishing up your reports, you left another note on his desk: "don’t forget to go through the intern evaluations before friday."

when you returned the next morning, there was another addition:

"forwarded you the evals.” below it, in his slightly scratchy handwriting was an addition: “incidentally, did you know that time moves slower in stronger gravitational fields? maybe that’s why this week feels endless."

you covered your mouth, suppressing a laugh. this man.

and just like that, it became a thing.

it started slow, with simple reminders laced with cosmic facts, but then it evolved. jake’s responses became more elaborate, slipping in more than just dry science.

one day, you left: "you need to approve the lab’s funding proposal by end of day. no exceptions!"

by the next morning, jake’s response was waiting for you: "did you know that some stars shine brighter when they have a companion? also, the proposal is on your desk, don’t nag."

your heart stuttered for an entirely different reason that day.

but jake never acknowledged it out loud. when you interacted in person, he was the same – calm, composed, occasionally brooding but never ignoring your reminders anymore. yet, on paper, in these little sticky notes, something else simmered beneath his usual cool demeanor.

it was a language only the two of you seemed to understand.

the next time you found a note, you stared at it a little longer than usual before pressing your lips together to suppress a smile.

"scientists believe there’s a ninth planet in our solar system, but we haven’t been able to find it yet. kind of like how i never see you taking breaks. go home on time for once."

like he’s one to speak, pulling long hours on days you leave on time anyway. regardless, you read it three times, warmth unfurling in your chest before tucking the note away in your drawer – right next to all the others you had kept. because you were keeping them now.

even if he didn’t catch you in the act of placing them carefully in one of your drawers, you had a feeling jake knew.

sometimes he was straight up funny, or so you thought. it was a side that you could usually only see through these notes because jake sim in person? he never said stuff like this.

once you reminded him of  a deadline: “the research proposal deadline is on friday. let me know if you need anything."

he replied: "there’s a giant storm on jupiter that has been raging for over 300 years. that’s still shorter than some of the meetings we sit through."

you had laughed. you had tried to be discreet about it but you couldn’t help the chuckle that had tumbled out and jake had caught you in that moment.

it was unfair, really. how easily he managed to make you smile. how effortlessly he turned something as mundane as sticky notes into something… else.

your cheeks had warmed up and very sheepishly, you looked away. but you missed the way jake had smiled to himself, pushing his glasses up and scratching his ears. cute, he had thought.

and proceeded to malfunction the rest of the day.

and of course jay noticed. of course he had something to say.

he started with jake first, because believe it or not, his friend was an absolute loser.

jay had been watching jake all morning. well, technically, he’d been watching jake for weeks now, but today was different.

jake was fidgeting.

now, jake sim did not fidget. he was the type of guy who could stare at a complex data set for hours without breaking concentration, but today? today, his pen was twirling between his fingers with a sort of nervous energy, his glasses had been pushed up his nose at least five times in the last two minutes, and most damning of all, he kept sneaking glances at your desk.

jay smirked, leaning back in his chair, watching the way jake’s ears tinged pink every time you so much as moved.

“oh, this is so good,” he muttered to himself.

jake ignored him, as he usually did. but jay knew the truth.

he wasn’t the only one who had noticed the sticky note exchanges. it had started small, easy to brush off as just another one of jake’s quirks, but then jay had seen you laughing at a note one morning, your eyes lingering a little too long on the writing before tucking it away. tucking it away. as in, keeping it.

jay, of course, had confronted jake immediately.

“you like her,” he’d accused one evening as they left the office.

jake had barely given him a glance. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“oh, come on, dude. you’re writing her space facts like it’s some secret code for flirting.”

jake had hesitated then, the barest of pauses in his step before he scoffed. “it’s not flirting. it’s just… facts.”

jay had groaned. “you absolute loser.”

the worst part is, jay actually reads one of those notes. 

you don’t even notice. he was leaning against your desk, waiting for you to find him one of those empty files you usually kept handy when he saw it. the yellow paper peeking out from under your keyboard.

you hear him scoff.

you turn just in time to see him pluck the sticky note off your desk, holding it between two fingers like it’s the most scandalous piece of evidence he’s ever seen.

“really?” he deadpans, reading the words aloud. “fact: the andromeda galaxy is on a collision course with the milky way. kind of like how you’re on a collision course with burnout if you keep staying past office hours. go home, y/n. – jake’”

he blinks. then looks at you. long. hard. smug.

you snatch the note back. “mind your business.”

“oh, no, no,” jay grins, crossing his arms. “this is my business. because you–” he points at you, then at your drawer, which probably has a whole stash of jake’s little science notes, “are clearly stockpiling these. and he” —cue the dramatic hand gesture in the direction of jake’s office— “is clearly trying to rizz you up with astrophysics.”

your soul leaves your body. “he is not!”

jay just laughs. “oh, honey. he is. and the fact that you’re keeping them? you’re down bad.”

you groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. “please shut up.”

“but like—are you guys flirting through the cosmos?” he’s grinning so hard, it’s physically painful to witness. “is this—interstellar rizz?”

“jay…”

“a universal love story?”

“jay.”

“gravitational attraction?”

“oh my god!”

fifteen.

it's been a whole entire month now. an entire month from the day you had been venting to jay about how you were just a paperclip to jake. a whole month since you quietly but seamlessly made your presence known in jake’s daily routine.

funny, how things change.

jake’s never been good with change though. 

it unsettles him – the way you’ve become this constant, the way he’s started to notice you in ways he never used to. at first, it was just small things. the way you always showed up in the lab before him, already setting up for the day. how you somehow remembered his preferred coffee order better than he did. the way your presence always lingered in the room, even when you weren’t speaking.

but then, those small things started becoming something more.

like how he started looking for you before even realizing he was doing it. how your voice, your laughter – hell, even the way you sighed when you were frustrated – started threading itself into the fabric of his days.

and the worst part? he let it happen.

jake liked routines, formulas, things that followed a set pattern. he liked knowing what to expect. but you? you were anything but predictable. and yet, somehow, you were still there, right in the middle of everything, shifting the entire equation of his life without permission.

how your presence had become something…expected.

jake didn’t like expecting things. expectations led to disappointments. people left, and routines shattered. he had learned that early on, and he had learned it well.

jake hadn’t meant to think of you. really.

he had been sitting at his desk, staring at the notes sprawled out before him, running calculations and double-checking measurements for the upcoming visit to the observatory. it was standard procedure – his advisor had asked him to review the telescope’s latest readings, compare them with the simulations, and ensure everything was in order before they proceeded with the next phase of their research. it was work he could do on autopilot, something he’d done dozens of times before.

and yet, he found himself pausing.

because for the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to go alone.

it wasn’t unusual for jake to make solo visits to the observatory – he actually preferred it that way. it was quiet, isolated, just him and the endless expanse of the universe stretched out before him. no distractions, no expectations. just the comfort of knowing that the stars above would always remain as they were – constant, unmoving, predictable.

but ever since you had slipped into his life, disrupting the structure he had so carefully built, everything felt different.

the observatory had always been his space. a place where he could think, where the world made sense. it was the last place he should be considering bringing someone else. and yet, the idea had wormed its way into his head and refused to leave.

he frowned, tapping his pen against the desk.

why did he want you there?

it wasn’t logical. you weren’t a physicist. you had nothing to gain from being in the observatory, nothing to contribute to the calculations or the data collection. the rational part of his mind told him there was no reason to invite you.

still, he found himself gripping his pen a little tighter, watching you from the corner of his eye as he wondered what you would say if he asked. but technically, he could use an extra pair of hands. he needed to cross check some numbers anyway, maybe you would be willing to help?

or is he rationalises his thoughts and actions as he finally makes his way over to you. it seemed, lately he had been doing a lot of that – seeking you out at your desk. 

“are you busy this evening?”

you looked up from your notes, brow arching slightly. “depends. are you about to ask me to do something tedious?”

jake scoffed lightly. “define tedious.”

you narrowed your eyes. “dr.  sim, you’re asking me to stay back after work. that email disaster was a one-time thing, but if you’re going to make me stay late to organize more files or proofread another hundred pages of data sheets, i will be charging overtime.”

jake huffed out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “it’s not that.”

you tilted your head, waiting for him to continue.

he shifted his weight slightly, gripping the edge of your desk like he needed something solid to keep himself grounded. “i need to check something at the observatory tonight. cross-check some numbers, recalibrate a few things.” a pause. “figured an extra pair of hands wouldn’t hurt.”

you blinked. “and i’m the extra pair of hands?”

jake nodded. “yeah.”

you stared at him for a long moment, trying to decipher his expression. you weren’t exactly well-versed in astrophysics, and you were pretty sure there wasn’t much you could actually do to help. but jake wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t think you were at least somewhat useful, he wasn’t the type to waste time.

still, something about this felt… off. not in a bad way, just unusual. jake rarely asked for company, let alone your company outside of work hours.

you leaned back in your chair, arms crossed. “i’m not sure how an assistant is supposed to be helpful at an observatory.”

jake shrugged, nonchalant. “moral support.”

you gave him a flat look. “moral support?”

“yeah. you know. in case i get emotionally overwhelmed by all the equations.”

you snorted, shaking your head. “right. that definitely sounds like something you’d struggle with.”

there was a glint in his eyes, like he was amused by your skepticism, but he didn’t argue. just watched you, waiting for your answer.

you exhaled through your nose, considering. the observatory wasn’t exactly your idea of an exciting evening, but… you couldn’t deny you were curious.

and maybe – just maybe – a small part of you liked the fact that he had asked.

“…fine,” you relented. “but if i get bored, i’m leaving.”

jake smirked. “noted.”

which brings you to now.

the observatory was quieter than you expected. it stood at the edge of campus, slightly isolated, its large dome stretching into the night sky, a dark canvas dotted with stars, and though you've never really considered yourself someone particularly enthralled by space, you can't deny the way the sight steals your breath.

in the center of the room, a massive telescope stands like something out of a sci-fi movie, its lenses gleaming under the soft glow of the control panel. but what steals your breath is the view beyond the glass ceiling – an entire universe stretched out above you, vast and infinite.

you exhale, stunned. “wow.”

jake watches you, something unreadable in his expression. “yeah,” he murmurs. “i thought you’d like it.”

there’s something about the way he says it – soft, almost hesitant – that makes your pulse skip.

jake was already setting up, his movements methodical. you hovered near the entrance, taking in the scene before finally making your way to him.

“so, what now?” you asked, clearing your throat.

he glanced at you, then gestured to a set of notes on the table. “just cross-check these while i calibrate the telescope.”

you nodded, flipping through the pages. silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. just the soft rustling of paper, the occasional click of buttons, and the steady sound of jake adjusting the equipment.

after a while, you looked up, watching him in his element. his brows were slightly furrowed in concentration, his fingers moving deftly over the controls. there was something almost peaceful about seeing him like this, completely immersed in his work.

“so.” you clear your throat, still taking in the sky. “this is where you go when you disappear for hours?”

“sometimes,” he admits. “it’s quiet here. no emails. no meetings. just… this.”

he moves to the telescope, adjusting the dials with practiced ease before glancing at you. “want to see?”

you hesitate for only a second before stepping closer.

jake’s hands brush against yours as he guides you to the eyepiece, and you pretend not to notice the way your skin hums from the contact.

you peer in, and suddenly, it’s just you and the stars.

it’s breathtaking. planets and constellations in sharp clarity, galaxies swirling in a cosmic dance.

“this is insane,” you whisper.

jake chuckles. “insane in a good way?”

“in the best way.” your voice reduces to a whisper on its own accord. through the eyepiece, you feel like you’re experiencing something intimate, only for your eyes. “i think i’m starting to understand why you like doing this work.”

you don’t know what motivates you to actually say it out aloud, but the comfortable silence that had settled between you may have been a catalyst.

jake laughs a tiny little laugh, almost quietly as if he wanted to preserve the sanctity of this moment. nothing but the hum of the machines surround you now and he can hear the way your clothes rustle when you adjust yourself to the telescope.

“it makes sense,” he said simply.

you tilted your head. “more than people do?”

his hands stilled.

for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. but then, he let out a quiet breath, gaze still fixed on the telescope.

“people aren’t predictable,” he said finally. “science is.”

you set the notes down, stepping closer. “predictability isn’t everything sometimes.”

he turned to look at you then, something unreadable in his expression. the air between you felt heavier, charged with something neither of you could name. the way his gaze lingered made your stomach twist, and for a second, you thought he might say something – something important.

there’s a beat of silence before he speaks again, voice quieter. “you ever think about it?”

“think about what?”

“how small we are,” he muses. “how, in the grand scheme of the universe, we’re just specks of dust on a floating rock.”

you pull away from the telescope to look at him, but his gaze is fixed upward.

“you’re telling me,” you start, amused, “that we came all the way here so you could have an existential crisis?”

jake huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “no. i just—” he hesitates, choosing his words. “i guess i wanted to show you why i love this.”

you don’t know why, but that confession makes something tighten in your chest.

you watch him for a moment – how the glow of the dim lights casts a soft halo around his face, how his brows furrow ever so slightly in thought. the glasses sit on the bridge of his nose, reflecting the stars above you. how his eyes shine behind those glasses, holding things you didn’t dare to ask him about. the soft smile tugging on the corners of his lips as his neck craned up in familiar appreciation.

for once, you don’t feel like an outsider in his world.

“this is where it started for me,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter than usual.

you turned to him, curious. “what did?”

his lips curved, not quite a smile, but something softer. “my obsession with space. the stars. everything.”

you waited, sensing that he wasn’t finished. and after a beat, he exhaled, tilting his head back as if he could reach into the past and pluck the memory right from the sky.

“i was ten the first time i saw saturn through a telescope,” he murmured. “my mom took me to an observatory for my birthday. she—” he hesitated for a fraction of a second before continuing. “she wasn’t exactly the type to understand science, but she knew i loved it. so she made the trip just for me.”

you watched him, noting the way his fingers twitched slightly before curling into his palm.

“she let me stay up late,” he went on, voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “and i remember looking through that telescope and seeing saturn’s rings for the first time. it didn’t feel real. it was just this perfect thing, floating out there in the dark. and i thought, ‘if something this beautiful exists so far away, what else is out there?’”

you felt your heart twist at the wonder in his tone, the lingering traces of a child who had once stared at the universe with wide-eyed fascination.

“she sounds like she really cared,” you said gently.

jake’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “yeah,” he admitted. “she did.”

a comfortable silence stretched between you, the weight of nostalgia settling in. when he spoke again, his voice was a touch lighter. “anyway, that’s how it all started. one night, one telescope, and a planet millions of miles away.”

you smiled. “and now you’re here. making it your whole life.”

he huffed a soft laugh. “yeah, guess so.”

the two of you stood there for a while longer, the silence stretching between you – not awkward, not uncertain, just there. comfortable. quiet. something unspoken settling in the air between you like stardust.

and when jake finally broke the silence, it wasn’t with another question. it was with a quiet, thoughtful, almost teasing murmur—

“you know, saturn’s rings are actually disappearing.”

you turned to him, eyebrows raised, almost alarmed. “what?”

he smirked, a knowing glint in his eyes. “slowly, of course. give it a hundred million years.”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small, amused smile that pulled at your lips. typical.

jake had been careful in his explanations at first, as if gauging whether you were truly interested or simply indulging him. but the moment he realized you actually wanted to listen, something in him loosened. the words started flowing, effortless, unfiltered. he spoke of nebulae and galaxies colliding, of stars that lived and died before the earth had even existed. he pointed out constellations, filling the silence with a quiet reverence that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something infinite.

you wonder if anyone else has ever seen this side of him.

not the researcher, not the reserved and often too-intense scholar, but the man who could speak about the cosmos with a fascination so deep it bled into his voice. the man who, for all his cool detachment, still carried the kind of awe that made you believe in something bigger than yourself.

and that’s when it happens. that’s when you feel it.

that slow, creeping realization that something has shifted. that this isn’t just about your inherent respect for this man. no, it was more than that. sure, you had started this month with a reluctant motivation to make this person acknowledge your existence.

but now that he is? it does something to you.

a quiet, unsettling shift that settles deep in your bones, in the spaces between your ribs where your heart beats just a little too fast. the realization slinks in slow, insidious – like the tide rolling in, creeping past where you thought the shore ended, until suddenly, you’re in deeper than you meant to be.

jake is still speaking, voice steady and sure, filling the silence with his quiet reverence. you barely hear the words anymore. something about the life cycle of stars, about the sheer immensity of time itself – how the light from some of these constellations has taken millions of years to reach earth, how when you look up, you are peering into the past.

it should be overwhelming. it should make you feel small.

but instead, all you can think about is the man beside you. talking so animatedly, his lips splitting into a grin, his teeth biting into the flesh every once in a while when he pointed out another constellation to you.

the paperwork you were here for in the first place remained forgotten. insignificant, almost as if you hadn’t really been required for it in the first place.

because you realize, then, that this isn’t just admiration anymore. this isn’t just you being awed by his mind, by the way he sees the universe with such unguarded wonder. it’s not just about the way he listens when you speak, or how he’s begun to answer your notes with scribbled facts, or how he’s been looking at you lately, with something unreadable in his gaze.

it’s him.

jake, with his impossible knowledge and even more impossible depth, the way his fascination bleeds into his voice when he speaks of things so much bigger than himself. the way his eyes are fixed on the sky, dark and gleaming, reflecting galaxies you’ll never touch but somehow feel closer to just by standing here next to him.

and it terrifies you.

because this isn’t what you planned. you were supposed to break down the walls between you, supposed to demand acknowledgment, supposed to pull him out of that self-imposed solitude and make him see you.

but now that he does?

now that he’s speaking to you like this, sharing this piece of himself so freely, without reservation?

now that you’re standing here, heart stuttering in your chest, wondering if maybe – just maybe – you don’t want him to see you just as his assistant anymore?

the thought makes your breath hitch.

“—are you listening?”

jake’s voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, and you blink, snapping back to the present. he’s turned toward you now, brows raised in mild amusement, but there’s something else in his eyes, too – something patient, expectant, like he’s waiting for you to catch up to whatever just shifted between you.

you clear your throat hastily. “yeah. of course.”

his gaze lingers for a moment, like he doesn’t quite believe you. but then he huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he looks back toward the sky.

“good,” he murmurs. “i’d hate to bore you.”

as if he could.

you don’t say it out loud. instead, you let your gaze drift up to the stars, to the vastness of everything above you.

and you let the realization settle, no matter how terrifying it is. because something’s happening. something has happened in the span of a month already. you have an inkling as to what it is, but you’re not going to admit to it. not yet.

the tiny voice in the back of your mind is here to support you on that cause it seems, chanting in tiny font: just an assistant, just an assistant, just an assistant.

but when jake shifts closer, his shoulder brushing yours ever so slightly, you’re not sure who you’re trying to convince anymore

sixteen.

the office is eerily quiet at this hour, save for the rhythmic scratch of a marker against the whiteboard. the usual hum of ringing phones and hurried conversations has long since died down, leaving behind an almost sacred kind of stillness.

you glance at the clock in jake’s office – 7:34 pm. way past your office hours, but jake’s still in his office.

jake should have gone home hours ago. so should you. and yet, here you are, perched on the edge of his desk, watching as he works through whatever calculations are currently consuming his mind.

you’ve seen this scene play out before, too many times now.

it used to be just an observation. a fleeting thought that it couldn’t be healthy to spend so many hours so completely submerged in work. but lately, that thought has settled into something heavier, something almost akin to concern.

he’s been stuck for the last twenty minutes. you can tell because he’s frowning at the whiteboard like it personally offended him, one hand on his hip, the other tapping the marker absently against his thigh. you can practically see the gears turning in his head, equations unraveling and reforming, one possibility after another spinning behind his sharp gaze.

you don’t know when you started caring like this. you really don’t.

but you do.

so, as you hover near his desk, watching him scribble something with an almost frantic energy, you decide – he needs a break. and you, apparently, have taken it upon yourself to make sure he gets one.

“dr. sim,” you say, but it barely registers. his pen doesn’t even pause. nothing.

with a sigh, you reach forward and pluck the pen right out of his hand.

that gets his attention.

he blinks, finally looking up at you, and you don’t miss the way his brows furrow, like he’s only just realizing you’ve been standing there this whole time. you would have laughed at the way he looks at you like a kicked puppy. like you just snatched his lollipop right from his hands. although, given the situation, that’s an accurate comparison.

“what are you doing?” he asks, voice slightly rough from lack of use.

“saving you from yourself.” you twirl the pen between your fingers, giving him your best unimpressed look. “when’s the last time you took a break?”

he exhales sharply, rubbing his temples. “i don’t have time for a break.”

you shake your head. “that’s not an answer.”

jake lets out a quiet groan, leaning back in his chair. “i just need to finish this.”

“that’s what you said two hours ago.” you glance at the clock pointedly.

his lips press together, but you see the way exhaustion flickers across his features. he’s wearing himself down, the way he always does, and for some reason, that doesn’t sit right with you anymore.

“you look like you’re about to fight that thing,” you tease, breaking the silence.

jake exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “might as well. it’s being stubborn.”

you tilt your head, pretending to examine the mess of symbols and numbers scrawled across the board. you don’t understand a fraction of it, but that’s never stopped you from trying. “have you tried… asking nicely?”

jake gives you a flat look, and you grin, making your way over to the whiteboard in question.

“or,” you continue, voice laced with mischief, “you could let me help. i’m very good at doodling. that squiggly line right there?” you gesture vaguely toward the board. “desperately needs a smiley face.”

for a second, he just stares at you, expression unreadable. then, to your surprise, the corner of his mouth twitches. “that’s not a squiggly line. it’s a sigma notation.”

“yeah, well, i think it would be a lot friendlier if it had some personality.” before he can protest, you lean forward, swiping the marker from his hand. with a few quick strokes, you turn the apparently very serious mathematical symbol into a little doodle of a face, complete with tiny arms raised in triumph.

jake huffs out something that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. “that’s sacrilegious.”

“it’s art,” you correct, grinning as you cap the marker and toss it back to him. “you’re welcome.”

he shakes his head, but there’s a softness there, something warm and reluctant in the way he looks at you. like he can’t quite believe you’re here, in his space, disrupting his routine with something as simple as a smiley face on a whiteboard.

like he hasn’t just surprised himself by not losing his mind over the fact that you just doodled on his very important notes. like he doesn’t even mind.

for a long moment, he just stands there, marker still loosely gripped in his fingers. then, with a quiet sigh, he lifts it and – to your utter delight – draws something beside your doodle.

he started with a small star in the corner – sharp, clean lines. then, next to it, he hesitated before adding another one. then another.

you tilted your head, watching him with something warm in your gaze. “what are you drawing?”

he glanced at you, then back at the board. “…orion’s belt.”

a slow smile stretched across your lips. “of course.”

jake didn’t know why the warmth in your voice made his pulse stutter, but it did. and when you stepped closer, your shoulder brushing his ever so slightly, he felt it even more acutely – the soft graze of fabric against fabric, the fleeting press of warmth before it vanished again

he doesn’t know when he started paying attention to things like this. the way your laughter fills up a room, how effortlessly it winds its way into the air, sinking into the corners of his office like it belongs there. the way you nudge him – not just physically, but emotionally, mentally, in ways no one else ever has.

he doesn’t know when it started, but he knows now that he’s in too deep to ignore it.

because right now, he’s standing at the whiteboard, marker in hand, with you beside him, doodling what can only be described as a catastrophically inaccurate solar system.

and somehow, impossibly, he’s smiling.

actually smiling.

he catches himself in the reflection of the glass across the room, and it startles him a little. he looks different. softer, somehow. the lines of his face, not weighed down by calculations or theories, but by something lighter. something he doesn’t quite have a name for yet.

jake doesn't know how long he stands there, marker in hand, staring at the mess of doodles you've scattered across his once-pristine whiteboard. he should be appalled, maybe even annoyed, but he's neither. if anything, he feels... lighter.

your laughter still lingers in the air, curling around the edges of the quiet like something tangible, something warm. and when you shift beside him, stretching lazily with a satisfied hum, he catches a faint trace of your perfume, something soft and familiar, something he has no right to associate with comfort but does anyway.

"i think we did some great work here," you say, stepping back to admire your collective masterpiece. "a true collaboration between genius and artist."

jake huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "you mean vandalism."

"semantics," you counter easily, nudging his elbow playfully. your touch is fleeting, barely there, but jake still feels it long after you've moved away. he grips the marker tighter than necessary.

you glance at him then, a knowing glint in your eyes. "alright, dr. sim. time for your verdict. did my artistic intervention help at all?"

he exhales slowly, letting his gaze sweep over the board again. and maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s you, but he realizes that, somehow, the problem no longer seems as daunting as it did twenty minutes ago. the frantic mess of calculations, the numbers that had refused to align, don’t feel as suffocating now.

it’s absurd. it’s ridiculous. but somehow, your ridiculous doodles make the whole thing feel less intimidating.

jake turns his head slightly, watching you from the corner of his eye. you’re still looking at the board, a pleased little smile on your lips, completely oblivious to the way his mind is currently betraying him.

when did this start? when did you start creeping into his thoughts, into his space, into his carefully structured life with your easy laughter and casual touches? when did your presence start feeling like a constant, like something that belonged?

the realization unsettles him.

he clears his throat, looking away. "it’s… better."

your smile widens, and for some reason, jake has to fight the urge to look away again. "see? i told you i’m helpful."

he rolls his eyes, but there’s no real exasperation behind it. if anything, it’s just an excuse to look at something other than your stupidly pleased expression, which, annoyingly enough, does things to him he’d rather not analyze right now.

"well," you say, clapping your hands together, "my work here is done. i’ve successfully distracted you from overworking yourself into an early grave. i should get a raise."

jake snorts, shaking his head. "you’re already overpaid."

"lies and slander," you gasp dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. "i should report you to hr for emotional damage."

he’s about to retort when you suddenly step forward, reaching for the marker in his hand. jake’s breath hitches – completely involuntarily, because that’s the only explanation – as your fingers brush against his.

it’s brief. a fraction of a second, really. but it’s enough.

jake freezes.

the touch is light, barely there, but his mind registers it in excruciating detail – the faint press of your skin against his, the subtle warmth of your fingertips. it’s nothing. it’s everything. it’s enough to send his brain into a sudden, inexplicable shutdown.

you don’t seem to notice. or if you do, you pretend not to. you just pluck the marker from his hand and uncap it, adding one final detail to your masterpiece.

jake watches, still unnervingly aware of the ghost of your touch lingering on his skin. his fingers curl slightly, as if trying to hold onto something that’s no longer there.

you step back with a satisfied nod, capping the marker with a flourish. "there. perfect."

he barely registers what you’ve added – a tiny shooting star trailing behind orion’s belt – because he’s too busy trying to school his expression into something neutral, something that doesn’t betray the way his heart is currently behaving like it’s lost all sense of reason.

silence stretches between you for a beat too long. jake wonders if you can hear it – the way his pulse feels too loud, the way his carefully structured composure feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

then, mercifully, you step away, stretching again as you let out a small yawn. "alright, for real this time. i should go before i become permanently attached to this office."

jake nods, not trusting himself to speak just yet.

you glance at him one last time before heading for the door but for a moment, you just stand there, your fingers hovering over the doorknob. then you turn, looking at him with something softer in your gaze. something thoughtful.

"you should go home soon too, dr. sim."

it’s the first time you’ve said his name like that. no teasing, no playful lilt. just quiet. just sincere. jake’s heart clenches, aching to hear you call him but his first name. but he doesn’t say anything. not yet.

and for reasons he can’t quite explain, it sends something dangerously warm curling in his chest.

jake swallows. he nods.

you smile – soft, small, something just for him – and then you’re gone, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you somehow louder than it should be.

jake exhales slowly, staring at the empty space you left behind.

then, finally, he looks back at the whiteboard.

the equations are still there, unsolved. the numbers are still a mess, waiting for him to untangle them. but in the midst of all that, there’s something else now. doodles and stars and smiley faces. a small, stupidly drawn solar system that doesn’t belong in a room like this, in a world like his.

and yet.

jake lifts a hand, absentmindedly tracing a fingertip over the edge of one of your stars.

and yet, somehow, impossibly…it fits.

jake wonders if maybe, just maybe, not everything in his world has to be so rigid, so calculated. maybe some things – some people – aren’t meant to be neatly solved, but simply felt. and as his fingers linger over the soft curve of your drawn star, he realizes, with quiet certainty, that you’re the first anomaly he doesn’t want to solve.

[heartsriki]

카메라⌇OFF CAMERA... 〆 N.RK

pairing ᝰ Riki x fem!reader — featuring.. ot7 & njz wc: 5.7k

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ frenemies to lovers, lots of bickering, reader is an influencer sort of, jealousy, fluff, a kiss.

synopsis — A weekend trip, nonstop teasing, and one accidental like—somewhere between annoying each other and late-night moments, You and Riki realize your feelings might be more than just for the camera.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊Riki frenemies to lovers as requested.. CURRENTLY WORKING ON MORE FICS SO HAVE THIS ONE FOR NOW

“What about Riki?” Hanni asks, giving you a knowing glance.

You groan, already regretting this conversation. “Riki? What. Why bring him up?”

“Well, isn’t he also going on the trip? He’s friends with your friends, right?”

You cross your arms with a sigh. “Regretfully, I think so…”

Hanni hums, tilting her head. “What’s your problem with him anyway? I think he’s cute.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “I wouldn’t say cute.”

“And talented.”

“Not that either.”

“He’s nice too.”

You scoff. “Now you’re just messing with me.”

Hanni laughs, nudging your shoulder. “Okay, but seriously. What made you dislike him so much?”

What made you hate Riki? Oh, it was simple, really.

He was annoying. Egotistical. Arrogant. Selfish. Manipulative. And rude.

People say you hate him? Well, he started it.

Hanni is still watching you, waiting for an answer, but you just shake your head. She wouldn’t get it. No one ever does.

“You’re being dramatic,” she finally says, crossing her arms.

You scoff. “Am I? Have you ever had to deal with someone who goes out of their way to make your life miserable?”

She tilts her head in thought. “No, but maybe you’re just imagining it. Riki doesn’t seem like that kind of person.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “That’s because he has everyone fooled. Trust me, he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

Hanni gives you a skeptical look. “Okay, then tell me. What has he actually done to you?”

Oh, where to begin? There was the time he conveniently ‘forgot’ to tell you about a major change in your group project, making you look unprepared in front of the entire class. Or the time he somehow convinced everyone that you were the one who ditched the plans he never even invited you to in the first place. And don’t even get you started on the way he always smirks whenever he sees you struggle with anything, like he’s just waiting for you to mess up.

But instead of listing every single one of Riki’s crimes, you just sigh. “It doesn’t matter. Just know that he’s the worst.”

Hanni still looks unconvinced, but she drops the subject with a little shrug. “Fine, if you say so.”

You relax slightly, glad to move on—until she adds, “I personally think hes flirting.”

You whip your head toward her. “He is not.”

She grins. “Right.”

You exhale sharply, already regretting letting Hanni drag this out. But if she wants to know the full story, fine.

“It’s not some deep, dramatic thing,” you start. “We met through our friend group—Jake, Sunghoon, Jay, Sunoo, Jungwon, Heeseung. At first, he was just… there. Annoying, always doing the most for attention. But I didn’t really care. We barely interacted.”

Hanni nods, urging you to continue. “And then?”

“And then, one day, I was doing a live,” you say flatly. “It was supposed to be normal—just me talking to my followers and fans, answering questions, minding my business. But guess who decided to pop in uninvited?”

She gasps dramatically. “No. He wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but he did.” You cross your arms. “And, of course, the chat immediately noticed. People were freaking out, like, ‘Omg, Riki’s here?!’ ‘Riki, say hi!’ and I was already dreading whatever he was about to do.”

Hanni grins. “And what did he do?”

You sigh, closing your eyes like you can still see it happening. “He sent a donation just so his message would be pinned on the screen. And do you know what he asked?”

Hanni leans forward, eyes wide with anticipation. “What?”

You drop your voice, mimicking Riki’s cocky tone. “‘Be honest—do you secretly have a crush on me?’”

Hanni screams. “NO.”

“YES.” You groan, burying your face in your hands. “And the worst part? I was so caught off guard, I hesitated before saying no. And the internet never let it go.”

She’s cackling now, gripping your arm. “Oh my god, that’s so funny.”

“It’s not funny,” you grumble. “Because now? People like us. Together. The clip went viral, there are fan edits, people comment on my posts saying ‘#NishimuraEffect,’ and every time I go live, someone always asks about him.”

Hanni wipes a fake tear from her eye. “That’s incredible. You’re living a cliche rom-com.”

“A nightmare,” you correct. “Because Riki? He loves it. He leans into it. He’ll pop up in my comment section, reply to tweets with winks, and the other day? He sent me a playlist called ‘Songs That Remind Me of You’ and people lost their minds!”

Hanni gasps. “Wait. Was it a real playlist?”

“It was literally just a playlist with songs that he knows I hate.”

She wheezes. “Okay, no, that’s hilarious.”

“It’s immature,” you huff. “And now, whenever we’re in the same room, he just smirks at me like I’m obsessed with him. Like this is all just a fun little game.”

Hanni gives you a knowing look. “You do talk about him a lot…”

You shoot her a glare. “Don’t start.”

She smirks. “Too late. I think this trip is gonna be very interesting.”

The trip was supposed to be a simple getaway—a weekend away with friends, no drama, no awkwardness, just a little downtime and possibly endless amounts of photo dump content for your page. At least, that’s what you thought when you agreed to go. But now, standing in front of your packed suitcase, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get way more complicated.

Hanni had practically begged you to go. “It’s just a short trip! You need to get away from our apartment,” she’d said.

You’d reluctantly agreed, wanting the escape, but now that it was here, you were starting to question your decision. Because the trip included Riki. And the last thing you needed was a weekend of him continuing his little game of pushing your buttons.

You could already hear his voice in your head, mocking your every move.

“You sure you’re okay with being in the same car as me for three hours? Can you resist me?”

You shudder at the thought. The last time you were this close to him for any extended period of time, you nearly lost your mind. But this time? It was different. This time, he had the leverage of your online reputation over your head.

“Alright, everyone ready?” Heeseung called, appearing in the doorway of your room with his usual wide grin.

You gave him a thumbs-up, trying to hide your nerves. “Yeah. Just… give me a second.”

“Don’t take too long,” he teased, a knowing look in his eyes. “Riki’s already downstairs.”

That was the last thing you needed to hear. You quickly shoved your phone into your bag and followed Jake downstairs, where the group was already gathered. The moment you stepped into the living room, Riki’s voice hit you like a wave.

“Hey, look at that.. only took like what? Three hours?” He turned to you, flashing that infamous, teasing grin. “Did you pack extra clothes? Or did you vlog your packing routine for your little page?”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. “I just lost track of time,” you muttered, glancing over at the others. They were all chatting and laughing, clearly oblivious to Riki’s mind games.

“Alright, let’s get going!” Jungwon called, grabbing his bag and heading for the door.

You followed the group out to the cars, trying to ignore the feeling of Riki’s gaze on you. Of course, he had to be in the same car as you. Why wouldn’t he be?

You slid into the backseat with Sunghoon and Sunoo, silently praying for the trip to be over already. But of course, Riki made himself comfortable in the seat next to you, leaning over the armrest just enough to make it impossible to avoid him.

“So,” he said, his voice smooth and casual, “How’s the internet fame treating you? I saw your last livestream. Pretty cute how everyone keeps asking about us.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring that up. Ever again.”

He chuckled, clearly amused by your discomfort. “What? I’m just stating the facts. It’s pretty entertaining how much people are into this whole thing. Especially since im way out of your league.”

“I’m not into it,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “And neither are you. You’re just messing with me.”

Riki grinned, clearly enjoying the way you were trying to avoid eye contact. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.” He leaned back in his seat, his expression softening just a little.

You glared at him, refusing to let him get to you. “Don’t you have anything better to do than make my life miserable?”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk never leaving his face. “It’s funny making fun of people like you.”

The rest of the car ride passed in awkward silence, broken only by the sound of the others chatting and laughing around you. You kept your focus on the passing scenery, determined not to engage. But despite your best efforts, you could still feel Riki’s presence, like he was waiting for you to crack.

When you finally arrived at the cabin, you were more than ready to get away from him for a bit. The house was cozy, with a large living room and a fireplace crackling in the corner. You were more than ready to get away from Riki for a bit. As everyone scattered to claim rooms, you spotted the perfect one at the end of the hall—far from the shared spaces, away from distractions, and most importantly, away from him.

But just as you stepped inside, a familiar voice called out behind you.

“No way you get this room.”

You closed your eyes briefly, already regretting every decision that led to this moment. Turning around, you found Riki leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk already forming.

“I got here first,” you stated.

He shrugged. “I don’t care. I’m not rooming with Jungwon again. The guy sleeps like a rock but somehow still manages to kick me in his sleep.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And that’s my problem how?”

Riki stepped past you, dropping his bag onto the other bed in the room. “It is now.”

Your mouth fell open. “No. Absolutely not. I am not sharing a room with you.”

“Why not? Afraid you’ll fall in love with me overnight?”

You groaned, running a hand down your face. “I’d rather sleep outside.”

“Go ahead,” he said, flopping onto the bed, arms behind his head. “Less complaining for me to hear.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to give up, but he didn’t move. He just looked at you, that stupid smirk still playing on his lips like he knew you had no other option. And unfortunately, he was right. The cabin didn’t have enough rooms for everyone to have their own, and if you didn’t stay here, you’d probably end up sharing with Sunoo—who had a habit of sleep-talking in full conversations.

“Fine,” you muttered, dragging your suitcase toward the other side of the room. “But don’t talk to me.”

Riki grinned. “Gladly.”

The morning started with a natural split—girls on one side of the cabin, guys on the other. After breakfast, the group decided to go their separate ways for a bit. Hanni, Yunjin, and the other girls wanted to explore the nearby shops, while the guys planned to check out a hiking trail a few miles away.

As they piled into separate cars, Jungwon glanced over at Riki, who had been quieter than usual. “Alright, man, I gotta ask,” he said as he adjusted his seatbelt. “Why do you mess with Y/N so much?”

Jake, who was driving, snickered. “Yeah, dude. It’s like your favorite hobby.”

Riki rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat. “It’s not that deep.”

Sunghoon turned in his seat to face him. “Nah, but seriously. You’re always on her case. What’s the deal?”

Riki shrugged, staring out the window. “I just don’t like influencers.”

Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Okay, but why?”

“They’re all the same,” Riki muttered, crossing his arms. “They act like the world revolves around them just because they have a following. They take a hundred pictures of their food before eating, they vlog every second of their life like it’s a reality show, and they pretend like they’re relatable when they’re really just obsessed with attention.”

The car fell silent for a moment.

Jake finally sighed. “So… you hate Y/N because she posts online?”

Riki hesitated. “I don’t hate her.”

Jungwon smirked. “Could’ve fooled us.”

Riki rolled his eyes again. “She’s just—she’s exactly like the type of people I can’t stand. Always worried about engagement, always curating everything to look perfect. It’s annoying.”

Sunghoon hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Or maybe you’re just mad because you actually like her, and you don’t know how to deal with it.”

Riki scoffed. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Sunoo nudged Sunghoon. “He’s definitely in denial.”

“Definitely,” Jake agreed.

Riki groaned, shoving his hoodie over his head. “Whatever. Can we just go hiking now?”

The conversation shifted after that, but even as the guys joked and planned their route, Riki couldn’t shake the lingering irritation in his chest.

Later that afternoon, after the hike and a much-needed nap back at the cabin, Riki found himself lying on his bed, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he was on your page.

It was almost second nature at this point—checking what you posted, seeing what dumb caption you’d come up with this time. He told himself he was just looking for something to make fun of, something to roll his eyes at.

But then he caught himself smiling.

The post was an old one—before he ever really started paying attention to you. It was a candid picture, nothing staged, just you laughing at something off-camera. The way your eyes crinkled at the corners, the way your smile shined so bright—it was genuine. Real.

He stared at it for a second too long.

Then his thumb slipped.

A loud double tap echoed in the quiet room.

Riki’s heart stopped.

“No. No, no, no—” He shot up, staring at the screen in horror. His username, clear as day, was now stamped underneath a post from two years ago.

Panic set in.

He scrambled to unlike it, praying the damage wasn’t done. But it was too late. The notification had already been sent.

Dropping his phone onto his chest, he let out a long, miserable groan.

He was so screwed.

A knock at the door made Riki jolt upright. His phone nearly slipped from his grip as your voice rang through the wood.

“Hey, are you in there?”

His heart rate spiked.

He tried to act normal, shoving his phone under his pillow like that would somehow erase the evidence. “Uh… yeah, obviously?”

You pushed the door open without making a note on his attitude, your brows furrowed as you scrolled through your phone. “Weird. My notifications just went crazy for a second—”

Riki shot up so fast his head nearly spun. “What? That’s… weird. Super weird.”

You didn’t seem to hear him, still staring at your screen. And then, your steps slowed. Your eyes widened slightly.

“Riki,” you said, dragging his name out in suspicion. “Did you just like my post… from two years ago?”

His entire soul left his body. “No.”

You turned the screen toward him, showing the undeniable truth: Riki liked your photo.

His face burned. “Okay, fine, yes, but it was an accident.”

A slow smirk formed on your lips. “Oh my god. You were stalking my page.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You totally were.”

Riki scrambled off the bed, moving toward you with purpose. “Give me your phone.”

You laughed, stepping back. “Absolutely not.”

“I just need to—” He lunged, but you dodged, holding your phone out of reach.

“Admit you were looking at my posts first.”

“Never.”

You yelped as he grabbed for your wrist, but you twisted away, stumbling slightly. “Wow, this is embarrassing for you.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Riki dove forward again, and this time, he caught your waist, making you gasp as the momentum sent you both tumbling back onto the bed.

The room went still.

Riki barely registered the way your breath hitched. The way your hands landed on his chest, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of his hoodie. The way his own hands—one braced on the mattress, the other still loosely gripping your waist—felt suddenly, dangerously warm.

You were close. Too close.

Your eyes flickered to his lips for just a second. Too long.

His grip tightened on instinct.

Something unspoken crackled between you, thick and charged. Riki’s smirk had completely disappeared, replaced with something else entirely—something neither of you wanted to think about.

For once, you didn’t have a witty comeback. And for once, he didn’t have a teasing remark.

Then—

A loud knock shattered the moment.

“Hey, are you guys seriously fighting again?” Jake’s voice called through the door. “Just kiss already or shut up about it!”

You and Riki instantly broke apart.

You shoved him off of you, flustered, as he cleared his throat and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling like it had all the answers in the world.

“You’re so annoying,” you muttered, sitting up quickly, clearly trying to compose yourself.

Riki exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You started it.”

You shot him a glare before storming toward the door. Just before stepping out, you turned back, obviously still flustered.

“For the record,” you said, voice quieter now, “if you wanted to stalk my page, you could’ve just made a fake account, dumbass.”

Then you were gone, leaving Riki lying there, staring after you, heartbeat still uneven.

The lake wasn’t even part of the original plan.

It was supposed to be a lazy morning at the cabin, maybe a hike if everyone felt like it. But then Sunoo, who always had a dramatic streak, took one look at the heat and declared, “I’m going to melt. We’re going to the lake.”

So now, here you were—standing at the edge of the dock, arms crossed, watching as your friends splashed into the cool water. The sun glowed golden against the lake’s surface, the air buzzing with laughter and the occasional shriek whenever someone got dunked underwater.

And, of course, Riki was being the absolute worst.

He was already in the water, hair slicked back, grinning like he was plotting something. He kept dunking Jungwon, then dodging away before he could get tackled in return.

You had zero intention of getting in the water. You were content staying on the dock, dipping your toes in while avoiding whatever ridiculous water war was happening between the guys.

Unfortunately, Riki had other plans.

He swam closer, resting his arms on the dock right by your feet. “What’s the matter? Scared you’ll mess up your whole influencer aesthetic?”

You shot him a glare. “Some of us actually enjoy being dry, thanks.”

His grin widened. “Nah, I think you’re just scared you can’t swim.”

You scoffed. “I can swim.”

“Prove it.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Because the second the words left your mouth, Riki’s hands shot up, grabbing your ankles.

“Riki, don’t—”

But it was too late.

One hard yank and—

SPLASH.

Cold water exploded around you as you went under. The shock knocked the breath from your lungs, and for a split second, all you saw was a blur of bubbles and blue. Then you surfaced, gasping.

“RIKI!”

His laughter rang out, pure menace. “Told you you could swim.”

Oh, he was so dead.

You lunged at him, sending a wave of water into his face, but Riki just dodged, still laughing. You barely noticed the others watching with wide grins—until Jake, the true agent of chaos, yelled, “so we’re pushing people in now?”

And that was the beginning of total warfare.

Jungwon and Sunghoon immediately grabbed Sunoo, sending him shrieking into the water. Hanni and Danielle tackled Jake. Everyone was dragging everyone else in, and chaos erupted—splashes, screams, and the occasional betrayal as alliances crumbled.

Amidst all of it, Riki swam closer to you, a smug look on his face.

“Having fun?” he asked.

You glared, water dripping from your lashes. “you wish I’d let you off that easy.”

Before he could react, you surged forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders—except this time, you weren’t just pushing him under. You dragged him down with you.

For a moment, it was just water, weightlessness, and the muffled sounds of the lake.

Then, you both surfaced, way too close.

You were still gripping his shoulders, and his hands had instinctively settled on your waist, steadying you. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

The sounds of your friends blurred into the background.

Riki blinked, water droplets clinging to his lashes. His grin was gone.

You could feel the warmth of his skin under your fingers. The slow rise and fall of his breathing.

The realization crashed over you all at once.

You had him.

You had him cornered.

A slow smirk curled at your lips. “What’s wrong?” you murmured. “Speechless?”

Riki’s grip on your waist tightened—just for a second—before he scoffed. “Not at all.”

But his voice was softer now. Lower. Like he wasn’t sure if he believed himself.

For a second, you wondered—if you leaned in just a little, if the space between you disappeared—

But then—

“HEY!” Jake’s voice cut through the air. “Are you two flirting?”

Riki immediately let go, stepping back. You did the same, heart hammering.

Jake grinned like he had definitely seen something. “If you’re gonna make out, at least warn us first.”

“Shut up,” Riki snapped, shoving a wave of water in his direction.

You rolled your eyes, turning away before anyone could catch the heat rising to your face.

The moment had passed.

But as the group carried on, splashing and laughing like nothing had happened, you couldn’t help but notice—

Riki wasn’t teasing you as much anymore.

And every time you glanced at him, you caught him already looking.

Sometime later, The sun melted into the horizon, painting the lake in hues of soft gold and deep orange. Everything glowed—the water, the trees, the faces of your friends as they laughed and dried off on the dock. It was the kind of moment you knew would look perfect on your feed.

So, naturally, you grabbed your phone.

You adjusted the angle, letting the sunset frame your shot, when a voice interrupted.

“Want me to take one for you?”

You glanced up to find Jay standing nearby, towel draped over his shoulders, shaking water from his hair.

“Actually, I was gonna do a self-timer,” you said.

Jay grinned. “Or… we could take one together.”

You blinked. “You wanna be in my post?”

“Why not?” He shrugged. “I mean, it’d be a shame to let this lighting go to waste.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine. Get in here.”

Jay slid next to you, tossing an arm around your shoulders with an easy familiarity. The two of you posed—first with a casual smile, then a peace sign, then an exaggerated model pose that made you both crack up.

What you didn’t notice was the way Riki’s expression darkened from across the dock.

He had been talking with Jungwon, barely paying attention, until he caught sight of you and Jay—standing a little too close, laughing a little too easily. Jay’s arm stayed draped around your shoulders as he leaned in to check the pictures.

And Riki felt something sharp and unfamiliar twist in his chest.

His jaw clenched.

His stomach burned.

He hated it.

Without thinking, he pushed off the wooden railing and made his way over.

“Hope you got my good side,” Jay joked, peering over your shoulder.

You laughed. “You literally look good in every photo, shut up.”

Jay winked. “So you do think I look good.”

Before you could roll your eyes, another voice cut in—calm, controlled, but laced with something heavy underneath.

“Didn’t realize this was a couples shoot.”

You turned just in time to see Riki step up beside you, hands shoved in his pockets. His expression was indifferent, but there was something in his eyes—something sharp and unsettled.

Jay smirked. “Feeling left out?”

Riki’s gaze flickered between the two of you before he let out a quiet scoff. “Just wondering when you two got so close.”

Your breath caught.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “It’s just a photo.”

Riki shrugged, but his jaw was tight. “Is it?”

The words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been.

You swallowed, heat rising to your face. “Since when do you care?”

For the first time, Riki didn’t have a quick comeback. He held your gaze for a second longer than necessary—then, without another word, he reached for your phone, flipped the camera to selfie mode, and pulled you in beside him.

The sunset glowed behind you both, casting golden light over the two of you. His expression was unreadable—yours, somewhere between confused and way too aware of how close he was.

Click.

The picture saved, and Riki handed your phone back.

“There,” he said, voice quieter now. “Something worth posting.”

Then, before you could say anything, he turned and walked away—leaving you standing there, heart racing, wondering what the hell just happened.

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing you and Riki into the shared room for the night. The air between you was thick with something unspoken—something that had been there ever since the lake, since the sunset, since the moment his hand found its way to your waist.

You hated how aware you were of it.

Riki, on the other hand, acted like nothing had changed. He tossed his bag into the corner, grabbed a towel, and ran it through his damp hair as he stood near the dresser. His movements were relaxed, effortless, but his silence was new. Usually, he’d have made some comment by now—some smug remark, some way to push your buttons.

Instead, he said nothing.

And somehow, that made it worse.

You sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, but your mind wasn’t really focused. You could still feel the weight of his arm from earlier, the quiet challenge in his voice when he pulled you close, the way his eyes had darkened when he saw you laughing with Jay.

Jay.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Maybe that was it—maybe Riki was just annoyed that someone else had gotten under your skin before he could.

But then why did he look at you like that?

“You didn’t post it.”

His voice cut through the silence, and you glanced up to find him watching you from across the room.

You blinked. “What?”

“The picture.” He nodded toward your phone. “You didn’t post it.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “So?”

Riki tilted his head, eyes unreadable. “Didn’t peg you as the type to waste a good photo.”

You exhaled through your nose. “Maybe I just didn’t feel like dealing with the comments.”

He let out a scoff, tossing the towel onto his suitcase. “Right. Because people liking us together would be so unbearable for you.”

You shot him a glare. “You say that like you don’t make my life unbearable.”

Riki’s lips curled into something almost smug, but there was something off about it—like he wasn’t fully committed to the act. “Funny. Didn’t seem like you hated it when you let me pull you in.”

Your breath hitched. “I didn’t let you do anything.”

“Didn’t stop me either.”

You clenched your jaw, standing up abruptly. “Oh my god, you’re so—”

He took a step closer.

You faltered.

The room suddenly felt smaller, the space between you charged with something sharp, something heated. You hadn’t even realized how close he had gotten, but now, standing just inches away, you could see the way his gaze flickered across your face—searching, calculating, something almost hesitant underneath the usual arrogance.

You swallowed, willing your pulse to slow down. “If you’re expecting me to fall at your feet or something, it’s not happening.”

Riki’s lips twitched, but the usual cockiness wasn’t fully there. “Please. Like I’d waste my time.”

His voice was softer now, lower.

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

The tension in the air pulled tight like a string about to snap. And then—

“Whatever. I’m going to bed.”

You didn’t move for a second, still rooted to the spot, still reeling from the fact that, for a split second, you were sure he was about to—

No.

You shook your head, exhaling sharply before climbing into bed and pulling the covers over you. “Yeah. Good.”

Neither of you spoke after that.

But sleep didn’t come easy.

The drive back was quiet, but the air between you and Riki was anything but. The weight of everything that had happened over the weekend—the teasing, the tension, the almost-moments—hung between you like an unfinished sentence.

Then, out of nowhere, Riki leaned over and grabbed your phone from your lap.

“Hey—” You swatted at his arm, but he was faster, scrolling through your camera roll with that same annoying smirk he always had when he was up to something.

A second later, he turned the phone toward you.

Your heart nearly stopped.

It was the sunset picture. The one he had taken of you at the lake—the one you couldn’t bring yourself to post. But now, it was up on your feed, public for everyone to see.

Your mouth fell open. “Riki!”

“Too late.” He leaned back against his seat, looking way too pleased with himself. “Now people can assume whatever they want.”

You huffed, ready to argue, but the warmth in his gaze stopped you. There was no teasing bite behind his words this time, no challenge—just something softer, something hesitant, like he was waiting for your reaction.

And instead of being mad, you laughed.

Not the annoyed kind, not the I’m-going-to-kill-you kind, but the kind that felt light and real and good.

Riki’s smirk faltered for a second, replaced by something else. “You’re not mad?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “No. I just… I like the picture.”

His lips parted slightly, like your answer had caught him off guard. Then, with a sudden boldness, he reached out and flicked your forehead gently.

“Well, obviously,” he muttered, looking away like he wasn’t blushing. “I took it.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his arm, but your stomach was doing somersaults.

He peeked at you again, a small, almost shy grin forming. “So… does this mean I’m your favorite now?”

You scoffed. “Not even close.”

Riki chuckled, and before you could react, he grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You felt your breath catch.

Neither of you moved to let go.

And just like that, the teasing, the bickering, the tension—it all melted into something new. Something neither of you had to name just yet.

I guess you guys weren’t so different on and off camera after all.

— BONUS…

Dating Riki was… an experience.

Not that you ever expected it to be normal. After all, your relationship had started with endless teasing, unnecessary bets, and a public ship that neither of you had taken seriously—until, well, you did.

Now, a few weeks in, you had learned a few things.

One: Riki was still insufferable. He still stole your phone to post embarrassing pictures, still made fun of your influencer habits, and still found every possible way to get under your skin.

Two: He was also disgustingly sweet when he wanted to be.

Like now, when he was currently lying on your couch, scrolling through your latest post, his head resting lazily against your lap. His free hand toyed with the hem of your sweatshirt—his sweatshirt, one that he had “accidentally” left at your place enough times that it just became yours.

“You’re obsessed with me,” he muttered, eyes glued to the screen.

You raised a brow, running your fingers absentmindedly through his hair. “Excuse me?”

He turned his phone toward you, showing the comment section of your latest post. “Look at this. Half your followers are just here for me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. They were here way before you.”

Riki hummed, unconvinced. “Sure, but the engagement went way up ever since people found out we’re together. Face it, I’m your brand now.”

You flicked his forehead, making him grunt. “Yeah? Then how much do I owe you?”

He grinned. “You can pay me in kisses.”

You scoffed, cheeks heating up despite yourself. “You’re the worst.”

“But,” he said, shifting so he was staring up at you with that stupidly charming smile, “you love me.”

You froze.

The words were so casual, so effortless—like he wasn’t even thinking about them. Like they had just slipped out.

Your stomach flipped. “What did you just say?”

Riki blinked, then smirked. “That you love me? Yeah, I know.”

Your mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

“Oh my god.” You smacked his arm, feeling your heart pound. “You can’t just say things like that out of nowhere!”

“Why not?” he asked, grinning. “It’s true.”

You glared at him, flustered beyond belief. “Maybe I should be the one who gets paid to deal with you.”

Riki laughed, then, without warning, pulled you down until your forehead bumped against his. His voice was softer when he spoke again. “Fine. I’ll say it properly next time. On camera. Just for you.”

Your heart swelled.

Because for all the teasing, for all the playful remarks and jokes—this was real.

And when he kissed you—slow, warm, just right—you knew you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[littelovelunette]

Red Lipstick

Vi x Fem!Reader

Contains slightly suggestive themes

The second you stepped into the piercing shop, you started questioning every decision that’s led you here.

The walls were covered in tattoo designs, the air smelled like disinfectant and metal, and the faint buzzing of a tattoo gun in the back made your stomach flip.

Vi, of course, was having the time of her life watching you squirm.

She leant against the counter, arms crossed, a smug grin on her lips. “You look like you’re about to pass out, babe.”

You shot her a glare. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” she drawled, pushing off the counter to walk beside you. “You keep telling yourself that.”

The piercer, a heavily tattooed woman with an eyebrow piercing and an “I’ve seen it all” expression, waved you over.

“Alright, sweetheart, which ear?”

You cleared your throat, trying not to sound like you're rethinking everything. “Left.”

Vi slid onto a stool next to you, legs spread wide, looking like she owns the place.

“You sure you don’t wanna do both while you’re here? Y’know, go full badass mode?”

You glared at her again. “One at a time, Vi.”

The piercer smirked, cleaning your ear. Vi leaned in, resting her elbow on her knee, watching you like a hawk. “Just so you know, if you cry, I won’t judge.”

You scoffed, “I’m not gonna cry.”

“Right, right.” Vi nodded, way too entertained. “That’s what everyone says before the needle goes in.”

Before you could tell her to shut up, the piercer lined up the needle. Your fingers instinctively gripped the chair, and Vi noticed immediately.

She bit her lip, eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

And then—stab.

Your entire body tensed.

A sharp inhale slipped past your lips, and your fingers clutched the chair like you’re holding on for dear life.

Vi, the absolute menace that she is, burst out laughing. “Babe, you just flinched so hard I thought you got electrocuted.”

You exhaled through gritted teeth, trying to play it cool. “I barely moved.”

“Oh, really?” Vi smirked, “So if I check the security footage later, it’s not gonna show you nearly launching yourself out of the chair?”

The piercer, clearly used to this kind of thing, just chuckled as she secured the jewelry. “Alright, you’re done.”

You blinked. “That’s it?”

Vi’s grin widened. “Yeah, babe, you survived.”

She patted your knee dramatically. “Proud of you.”

You rolled your eyes, but when you glanced at her, she’s actually looking at your new piercing with genuine admiration.

“Looks good on you,” she murmured, brushing a finger gently over your cheek.

Your face warmed, and before you could respond, she grinned. “But you totally almost cried.”

You groaned, shoving her lightly. “Let’s just go before you start asking them to pierce my other ear for fun.”

Vi perked up. “Wait, that’s an option?”

You shot the piercer with a panicked look. “Don’t encourage her.”

You and Vi walked down the streets, looking at the other shops. You ran the moment you saw a cosmetics store, grabbing all the cute lip shades the moment you saw them. You grabbed Vi's hand, swatching each shade on her skin to look for your shade. You always did it and Vi never told you off for it. She loved the way you involved her in the girliest shits ever one way or another. Like swatching lipstick colours.

Vi sighed, running her other hand through her hair. “And what exactly do I get out of this?”

“Well, you could choose the store we go into, next,” you said with a little grin, not really thinking as you busied yourself with the varieties of lipsticks.

“Oh, in that case,” Vi let her eyes travel the plaza, “Lingerie store, next stop.”

“Oh, Vi, you horny bastard,” you giggled but didn't stop to even think about it further, grabbing the next red lipstick and putting it carelessly on Vi’s skin.

“I like this one,” you said, placing it on the counter for the cashier to package. The cashier nodded, grabbing the lipstick up to put it in a bag.

You paid, with Vi’s money of course. The cashier gave you the bag with a little smile.

You smiled back and then gasped when Vi grabbed your wrist, dragging you to the lingerie store with unmatched excitement.

“Slow down,” you giggled.

“Come, hurry!”

Vi opened the shop’s door, dragging you across the aisles before she reached a specific area. She went through the several lingerie sets before handing you a red silk one.

You turned it over in your hand, examining it, "It's pretty."

"Yeah, go try," Vi said, looking around as if to make sure none of the workers were listening in. The aisle was comparatively deserted so Vi was lucky.

"Right now?" You asked.

"Yeah, I'll be watching, let's gooooo!" Vi dragged you by the wrist yet again, pulling you to the dressing room.

She sat down on the little stool in there, manspreading and making herself look oh-so sexy. You rolled your eyes.

You took off your dress, and started putting the lingerie on. Vi smirked, watching and drinking in your body.

"Fuck, doll," she leaned back, "You look so hot in red."

Vi got up, hands caressing your waist as she squeezed the flesh in her rough, calloused hands. "Fuck," she breathed as if this was the hottest thing she's ever seen.

"Stop it, it's not even that good," you said shyly looking at the mirror to see yourself standing there in the dressing room in a red lingerie while Vi palmed and groped your body with hungry eyes.

"Vi," you moaned feeling Vi slowly rubbing your nipple, getting it hard so she could pull it over the fabric of the lingerie.

"Mhm?" Vi smirked.

"Don't do that, you're gonna make me stain the panties with my wetness," you complained.

"Good," Vi said and the next thing you knew, she was hard. Her bulge against your ass.

Well, you were fucked.

Literally.

[catboywonu]

11:29 PM

jiung, who looks so good when his tongue is poking the inside of his cheek in concentration, fully immersed in the song he’s been working on for the last few hours. the two of you keep missing each other’s glances, only looking when the other looks away or pretends to be too interested in what’s on the soundboard in front of him, or in your case, your cellphone.

he’s tried to focus on the task at hand, he really, really has, but how can he when you’re laying on the little couch in his studio, jeans hugging your thighs, midriff exposed under your shirt that has risen up?

he’s not usually this easily distracted—a detail about him you know very well. countless times, you’d tried to tempt him to take a break from work and each and every time, your attempts had failed.

“i’ll take care of you when we get home, baby,” he’d insist with a sweet, wet kiss on your lips, “but i have to finish this now.”

even sitting on his lap and rutting against him while you kissed and whimpered into his neck had been useless. technically, not entirely useless, cause you could feel him get worked up beneath you, but even then he didn’t budge—his outstanding and stubborn self-control won every time.

naturally, you decided to give up your fruitless teasing and convincing, but perhaps, the absence of your advances is exactly why he’s so worked up today.

subconsciously, he misses the way your arms wrap around his shoulders from behind, palms smoothing over his chest and fingers trailing paths through his soft hair.

“please, i’m so needy,” he can practically hear the words dripping like honey from your lips, begging for him, needing his attention. and if he tries hard enough, he can feel your breath on his neck when you ask him to touch you, “just for a little.”

but instead, you’re quiet and still, laying back on the couch as you patiently wait for him to finish. and as much as he’d like to get this adjustment to the song over and done with so he can go home and treat you to the pleasure you so rightfully deserve, he can’t, because nothing he’s hearing in his headphones sounds good right now—not when his dick is so hard and swollen inside of his briefs that it physically hurts.

the melody is a mess, the lyrics are senseless, the beat isn’t right, and his head is leaking pre-cum into his underwear.

with a scowl on his features, he yanks the headphones off and spins around to face you.

you don’t look up from the phone, simply humming to acknowledge him as you shift onto your stomach. he swallows back a groan at the view of your pretty ass, now in perfect view.

“honey,” he starts, but you only hum again. “i’m gonna take a break.”

“good,” you mumble, “you’ve been going at it for over two hours. i’m starving.”

“i-“

“what do you wanna eat? i’ll order.”

“baby…” there’s a smidge of vulnerability in his voice, which is what finally makes you look up from the screen and at him. one of his hands is cupping himself over his sweats, the other reaching out for you desperately, “c’mere.”

your eyes widen as you glance down at his bulge and back up at him, the corners of your lips twitching up to form a teasing smile.

"what's wrong?" you play dumb. jiung rolls his eyes, letting his head fall back.

"please?"

"what ever happened to leaving that for when we're home?"

there's a strain on his voice when he answers, "i know, but... i can't. not this time."

"oh, but when i'm the one who's needy, it's fine?" you get up, walking over to him and stopping between his legs. instantly his hands come up to hold your hips.

when you grab his chin and tilt his head up to look at you, his dick twitches in his pants.

"i'm sorry," he whispers, lids heavy and lips drooling as his eyes trail down your figure, following every curve, every bit of exposed skin. "m'sorry," he repeats, speech a bit more slurred this time.

his index fingers hook onto the waistband of your pants, slipping along the hem until they meet in the middle where the button clasps your jeans closed. he tugs at them in a silent plea, and you nod slowly, running a hand though his hair.

jiung groans softly, leaning into your touch and making quick work of the button so he can work your jeans down your legs until you can step out of them.

not a moment later, he's shimmying his own sweats and underwear down until his angry tip is out, flushed and dribbling with clear pre-cum.

"come sit on it," there's a firmness to his voice, hands desperately tugging you closer until you're hovering over his lap. he can tell you're worked up—the way your lips are parted, the way your eyes are hazed. once you're close enough that he can feel the heat radiating between your laps, he wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you in place.

as his hand guides his dick through your folds to coat it in your slick, his lips find solace in the crook of your neck where he whines and drools and bites, hiding his flushed face from yours. he's already worked up a sweat from the need to feel you around him.

"mmm.." every time he drags himself up and down your core, your grip on his shoulders tightens, beckoning him closer.

"relax for me okay?"

you quickly nod, bringing your hand over your mouth to muffle the way you gasp as he pushes himself in. he slowly moves to sink you down, his own eyes rolling back, until you're flush against his lap and whimpering softly at the feeling of being so full.

"you're too tight," he groans.

"maybe you're just too big." he chuckles breathlessly at your words though he can't deny the way they make him flush, bringing his palms down to grip your hips. he tries to encourage you to move, but you only whimper, mumbling "hold on, i'm so full, i-"

"fuck, darling, i need you to move." he hisses, feeling the way your walls flutter around him.

after a few seconds, you lift yourself up halfway and sink back down with a moan that he echoes the moment he feels his swollen tip poke at your walls.

he works you to a pace that has your legs trembling, unable to hold you up if it wasn't for his grip that steadies you. you hum, eyes squeezed shut, focusing solely on him, on the way he feels inside you—the way his tongue drags up your neck until he stops at your jaw, ending his trail with an opened mouth kiss.

he moans against your neck, grabbing your face with his hand to turn you so you're looking down and at him.

"that's it," he praises when your eyes flutter open, glossed over and dazed. "there's my girl."

"ji-"

"sweetheart," his voice is tight as you roll your hips into his, chasing your high. the way you cling to him, nails scratching lightly at his shoulders, mouth letting out the most beautiful and addictive breathy whines—it drives him crazy.

you gasp against his lips as he rolls his hips up to meet yours—a slow, deliberate motion that has your fingers tugging on his hair, "jiung—” your breath hitches, the way he moves, the way he grips you, it’s overwhelming.

“i know, baby,” he groans, his lips tracing along your jaw, down to the base of your throat. his hands move, skimming up your sides, sliding under your shirt, palms warm against your flushed skin as he squeezes your boobs.

the tension that’s been building finally snaps, the air filled with breathless moans, whispered pleas, and the sound of skin against skin. the wet sounds coming from where your bodies meet make his head spin, pushing him to fuck you harder as you gasp, walls tightening around him.

he mumbles the sweetest things against your skin as you go limp in his hold, as he sinks so deep into you when he finds his own release.

"fuck," he shudders, head falling back against the chair, arms keeping you in place, tightly tucked against his chest.

for a few seconds, neither of you speak. the only sounds are the faint hum of the unfinished track looping in his headphones and your synchronized pants as you both come down from your highs. jiung leans forward, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there as if he can't seem to pull away.

“you okay?” his voice is hushed, tender. he brushes damp strands of hair away from your face, his other hand tracing mindless patterns on your back.

you nod against him, still catching your breath. “yeah,” you murmur, pressing a kiss against his jaw. “really good."

jiung hums in approval, his arms wrapping around you fully. he leaves a kiss on your head, but before you can get lost in his warmth, he's shifting, adjusting you in his arms. “come on, baby,” he says, his voice still a little hoarse. "let's clean up.”

you groan softly, nuzzling into his neck. “uh-uh. can’t move,” you whine. “you wore me out.”

he chuckles, smoothing your hair back with his hand, mumbling, “i did, huh?” before he sighs. “alright, sit tight.”

before you can protest, he’s gently lifting you off of him, setting you down carefully on the couch. his warmth leaves you, but only for a moment before he’s grabbing a clean towel from the studio's bathroom, using it to wipe the sheen of sweat from your skin and the mess he's left between your legs with soft, delicate touches. his focus is solely on you, unhurried, full of care.

“there we go,” he murmurs, discarding the towel before grabbing the oversized hoodie draped over his chair. "c'mere, baby." he helps your arms through the sleeves and slides your panties back up your legs, fingers ghosting your skin. "all better."

you nod, your heart swelling. “you always take such good care of me.”

jiung grins, cupping your jaw affectionately before tugging on his own pants. “of course. you’re my girl.”

for a moment, he pauses, glancing toward his screen where his unfinished song still sits open. “shit. i was supposed to finish that.”

you giggle, nudging his side as he drops onto the couch beside you, pulling you effortlessly into his lap. “maybe next time don't get so distracted.”

he half-heartedly scoffs, pressing a teasing bite against your shoulder before pulling you into a proper kiss—slow, deep, tongue swiping at your still swollen lips. when he pulls away, he doesn't go too far, nose still brushing yours. “how could I not?” he murmurs against your mouth. “you’re my favorite distraction.”

you instantly melt into him, curling against his chest, listening to the thump-thump of his heart as exhaustion begins to creep in.

"i wasn’t expecting you to give in so easily,” you tease after a beat, your fingers absentmindedly threading through his hair.

"yeah, well," he starts, eyes flickering closed as you scratch his scalp, "you were quite convincing." when you sigh contently against him, he whispers “rest for a bit, I’ll finish up later.”

"are you sure?" you mumble, but you're already half-asleep—he can tell.

he just nods softly, squeezing you in reassurance as your breath evens out and you fall asleep, tucked in his embrace.

🫐

[16wolke11]

Every Little Thing - Oscar Pistri

A/N Comforting Oscar after the Australian GP

WORDS: 1350

The air around me is thick with tension, the crowd around the circuit roaring with excitement. The cars line up at the start and finish line, and the Australian Grand Prix is about to start. My heart is pounding, fingers fiddling with each other, while my eyes are firmly focused on the orange car with the 81 on it. Today is special, not only because it's Oscar's home race, but also because I'm attending a Grand Prix for the first time. I am more than nervous, even though I'm not even racing. Surrounded by Oscar's family, I watch the formation lap, needing to suppress a whine when the first driver is out before the race even starts.

When the lights finally go out and the next drivers end their race early, I flinch. Every time I see a car wiggle on track, struggling to keep traction, my heart sinks. This weather is a mess, and so is the race. Rookies and experienced drivers struggle to keep their cars on track, and at one point, I just wish for it to be over.

It's good for my pulse that McLaren manages to pull away, putting them in a safe distance from their rivals, until I remember that, even though Oscar and Lando are teammates, they are still rivals on track as well. Oscar's first slip-up makes his side of the garage groan, and my heart almost drops. But he manages to continue just fine, gets past Verstappen again, and everything seems to be going well for McLaren until it doesn't.

"Noo," Nicole and others around me yell when Oscar slips off track and ends up planted in the grass. Everyone thinks he's out of the race, but Oscar is already trying to reverse out of the patch and reach the asphalt again.

"Come on, Oscar," I whisper, hoping that he will somehow manage to get out of the grass. He steers carefully, and the crowd erupts with cheers when he brings his car back on track and makes his way to the garage to get his damaged tyres changed.

"At least he can continue," his mother mutters beside me not happy with the amount of struggle her son is having today and I'm sure she would have preferred for him to pick a different job. A less stressful one.

"He will be so disappointed," I sigh, knowing Oscar tends to be hard on himself, and I try to figure out what I can do to help him feel better.

The race continues, and while Lando easily manages to stay in front, Oscar makes his way through the rest of the grid, overtakes some of them, and ends up in the points. Something I'm proud of, while he's probably beating himself up already.

"He did good," Nicole decides, and I nod. At least we're proud of what Oscar did today. It might not be what he imagined his home race to be, but he did a great job recovering after slipping off the track.

"I know that he's the one thinking otherwise," I tell Nicole my thoughts, and she agrees, knowing how hard her son can be on himself. We part ways, knowing it will take some time until Oscar returns, but when he doesn't appear in his motorhome, even after the podium ceremony, I decide to search for him.

I walk around the rainy paddock, looking between the different hospitals, until I make my way back to the garage. Maybe he's with the team? I spot him almost immediately, even though he's kind of hiding himself away. He sits between a wall and the counters where his helmet is stored before a race. Oscar looks like he's deep in his thoughts, and I sigh softly, time to cheer him up.

"Hey," I mutter, approaching him slowly, waiting for him to look up and acknowledge that I'm there before I crouch to his height. Oscar almost immediately wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest, and I hug him tightly, trying to show him that I'm there, that everything is okay, and that he doesn't need to feel down. His grip around me tightens before a soft sigh leaves his lips.

"Sorry I didn't win or even get a podium for you," Oscar apologizes, and I pull my head back to be able to look at him. He avoids my gaze, but I will not let him do this. Not let himself shame his performance when there is nothing to be ashamed of.

"I'm still proud of you," I whisper, fingertips tracing his cheek until his eyes meet mine. There is nothing left of the excited glimmer he had the days before the race; now they are just empty.

"There's nothing to be proud of," Oscar huffs and lets his arms fall to his side, looking to the side, refusing to let me read his expressions.

"Don't say that!" I say sternly, and maybe my voice sounds a bit harsh because Oscar's eyes are back on me quickly. I rarely get loud, but I feel like Oscar must understand this.

"You fought back when everyone thought you were out of the race," I mutter, recalling the moment he was in the grass, people thinking he was another one out of the race, but then he managed to get back on track and put on a hell of a show.

"You swallowed it and raced your heart out to get points," I remind him that he did not do nothing but managed to do something others couldn't. He saved his car and even made it back into the points.

"This is not nothing," I end my little speech, and I can see a soft smile tugging at the corners of Oscar's lips.

"Why are you always right?" he asks, tilting his head slightly to the side, and I smile, knowing I managed to get him out of his downward spiral.

"To remind the little pessimist inside you to stop being so harsh on yourself," I tap my fingers against his heart, knowing that it is one thing he struggles with—being happy with what he's achieving and not listening to the pessimistic tugs in his heart and head.

"Every little thing about you makes me fall in love more and more," Oscar sighs, and my heart stumbles. Even though we've been in a relationship for a while now, we rarely talk about the deeper feelings between us.

"Osc," I mumble, hands finding his to intertwine them with each other.

"You know I love you, no matter how you're doing at a race?" I ask him, and Oscar's eyes widen in surprise.

"Wait, you love me?" he whispers, and I blush a little bit, realizing that I just said that out loud, but it's nothing but the truth.

"Of course, I love you," I laugh softly before adding, a little less seriously, "Going to a country full of spiders and other scary stuff isn't something I would do for anyone."

Oscar grins before locking his eyes straight with mine.

"I love you," he whispers, sharing it just between him and me, making the smile on my lips get wider.

"Love you too," I say again, and saying it for a second time makes it even more real. Oscar places one hand on my cheek, thumb brushing over it softly before he pulls me in for a kiss. It's not hectic, just a sweet touch to seal the words we just told each other, and I snuggle against his chest, not ready to face the world again.

"Maybe this day isn't the worst," Oscar says after a few minutes of holding me close, and I scoff.

"Charming," my voice is full of sarcasm, hinting that he's kind of ruining the sweet moment between us.

Oscar's chest rumbles with laughter. "You love it," he says, referring to the fact that his dry act is usually something I like about him.

"Can't deny that" I grin and snuggle back into his chest, knowing that those are the little things that make our relationship worth it.

[deadrobinthoughts]

† underlined : jason.

⋆˙⟡ "You have given me a thing I could never have imagined, before I knew you. It's like I had the word 'book,' and you put one in my hands. I had the word 'game,' and you taught me how to play. I had the word 'life,' and then you came along and said, 'Oh! You mean this.'"

⋆˙⟡ request: no, i'm just coping. jason using literature as a love language. ↦ kalico note: i have nothing to say here.. but i did notice i had to make a jason banner.. i really have no solo jason requests??? + p.s: yes, there are several meanings to the a.s byatt quote - it was simply teasing because the quote acknowledges that passion can lead to destruction.

jason todd is a complex creature that has never been able to rely solely on words to communicate. he wasn't raised in softness, being taught how to verbally express everything he feels — even now, he struggles with the vulnerability that comes with it, all of it feeling incredibly foreign.

that's not to say he never communicates, no, but there are times when he can't find the words. feels like his own will just fuck things up. so, he uses the only thing he knows will convey his thoughts; classic literature.

"i love her, and that's the beginning and end of everything."

you weren't sure how to act when he said those words

quiet, muffled against the crown of your head

you weren't entirely sure he was looking for a response

jason, on the other hand, thought you were asleep

it was a confession, one he hadn't been fully ready to say outright

"i would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone."

he just says it out of nowhere

sitting on the couch

almost like he's just reciting the words for fun

you, on the other hand, are staring at him

it takes a second to process

"are you.. are you flirting by quoting lord of the rings?"

he doesn't confirm or deny that

"i have waited for this opportunity for more than half a century, to repeat to you once again my vow of eternal fidelity and everlasting love."

you're in the kitchen

his arms around your waist, forehead down against your shoulder

it makes you think, going over the words for a moment

"do you think we were in love in our past lives?"

he chuckles at the question

he turns you around, careful

"i'd like to think i've been following you through each one."

you can only look away when he gives you that little grin

"if i had a flower for every time i thought of you, i could walk through my garden forever."

it's on the little card of a bouquet this time

just sitting on your counter

he's nowhere to be found

you just smile, tucking it back into the little plastic holder

you wonder if he'd like getting flowers, too

"take me with you. for the laughs, the luck, for the unknown. take me with you."

you can't help but laugh reading this one

nothing too loud, just amused

"i'm leaving for too days, dummy."

he absolutely does not care

he didn't care scribbling it on a sticky note

why would he care now?

"long enough-"

"perhaps it is our imperfections that make us so perfect for one another."

you saw this one coming

he'd seen you upset

upset over stupid things

your brain messing with you, as it does so often

he'd comforted you in the moment

but seeing the note stuck to the bathroom mirror?

it almost made you want to cry again

"i know from experience that poets are right; love is eternal."

he quotes this one after you ask him something he doesn't want to hear

that inevitable conversation

the "what if something happens to me?"

the "what if you don't come home?"

there's nothing much he can do to soothe those thoughts

the world doesn't work that way

but he kisses your forehead, whispering the words

a promise of sorts

no matter what happens, he is going to be loving you

"i would rather be happy than dignified."

it's after a fight

not even really a fight

an argument that left you both uneasy

it comes in the form of the book

highlighted for you

a way of apologizing

because words don't always work

"i love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul."

this is one you hear him mumbling under his breath

something that catches your attention

something that makes your stomach twist

"jason?"

he doesn't look up immediately

dealing with other voices that he's trying to shut out

it's a simple question that makes you understand

"you're here for it all, yeah?"

"i cannot let you burn me up, nor can i resist you. no mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed."

it's scribbled in a card for your anniversary

you look between him and the card a few times

reread it once or twice

you click your tongue

"are you trying to tell me that our love is destructive?"

maybe he didn't think that one through

"there’s nothing in all the world i want but you and your precious love. all the material things are nothing. i’d just hate to live a sordid, colorless existence because you’d soon love me less and less and i’d do anything — anything — to keep your heart for my own. i don’t want to live—i want to love first, and live incidentally… don’t—don’t ever think of the things you can’t give me. you’ve trusted me with the dearest heart of all—and it’s so damn much more than anybody else in all the world has ever had."

this is the one is said after a mission

after nearly losing his life for the second time

after potentially leaving you to deal with the world alone

you don't respond to it

you simply let him have his time

he doesn't let you go for a while

"i’m so damn glad i love you – i wouldn’t love any other man on earth – i b’lieve if i had deliberately decided on a sweetheart, he’d have been you."

it's the first time you respond using his own little language

you say it with a smile

a little over exaggerating

even going as far to tap him on the nose

for once; he has no quotes

no words

no jokes

he's simply looking at you in a way that says he loves you

for the simple fact that you did that specifically for him

[saltwater-moon]

hopeless – a jegulus fic: 963 words.

James was already regretting his decision to study in the library. He chose a table with clear visibility to where Regulus typically sat with his friends, but he didn’t anticipate the torment that would follow.

“Look who’s here again,” Evan drawled, loud enough for him to hear as Regulus’ circle claimed their usual table. “It’s Potter, right on schedule.”

James kept his eyes fixed on his Charms textbook, though the words might as well have been written in Mermish for all he was absorbing.

“He’s become quite predictable,” Barty agreed with a smirk. “Almost as if he’s waiting for someone.”

Pandora, the only one who occasionally showed James mercy, at least had the decency to lower her voice. “Do you think he realises how obvious he’s being?”

“Of course not,” Dorcas snickered, not bothering to whisper. “Gryffindors think subtlety is a type of French cheese.”

Their laughter made James’ ears burn. He chanced a glance up just as Regulus arrived, sliding gracefully into the empty seat they saved for him. Unlike his friends, Regulus didn’t look in James’ direction at all, which somehow made everything worse.

“Reggie, we were just discussing Potter’s study habits,” Evan said, slinging an arm around Regulus’ shoulders. “Fascinating how he’s suddenly developed such academic discipline this term.”

Regulus shrugged off Evan’s arm with practiced ease. “Perhaps he’s finally taking his N.E.W.T.s seriously.”

“Oh, he’s taking something seriously, alright,” Barty muttered, earning snickers from the others.

James gripped his quill so tightly it nearly snapped. This has been going on for weeks now, ever since Dorcas caught him staring at Regulus in Potions. The Slytherins had immediately picked up on his interest and turned it into their favorite source of entertainment.

“I still say he’s not Reg’s type,” Pandora said thoughtfully, tapping her wand against her cheek. “Reg needs someone more refined. Intellectual.”

“Someone who can actually maintain a reasonable conversation without mentioning Quidditch every four seconds,” Dorcas agreed.

“Someone who doesn’t look like they’ve been attacked by a hedge trimmer each morning,” added Evan, running a hand through his own immaculate hair.

Barty leaned forward, his voice laced with mock seriousness. “Regulus has very specific tastes, you know. He likes them tall.”

“Dark,” Dorcas continued.

“Mysterious,” from Pandora.

“And definitely not sporting ridiculous glasses,” Evan finished.

Throughout this entire exchange, Regulus remained focused on unpacking his books, though James thought he detected a slight tightening around his mouth.

“If you’re all quite finished discussing my hypothetical romantic preferences,” Regulus finally said icily, “perhaps we could focus on actually studying? We need not get punished for marks we could have kept exemplary.”

This silenced them momentarily, but James knew from experience it wouldn’t last long. Sure enough, barely ten minutes later, Dorcas was at it again.

“Potter’s staring again,” she sing-songed under her breath. “It’s almost adorable how hopeless he is.”

“Like a puppy waiting for treats he’ll never get,” Barty agreed.

“Should we tell him?” Pandora suggested with false sweetness. “About Regulus’ date with that Ravenclaw prefect next weekend?”

James’ head snapped up involuntarily. There was no Ravenclaw date, at least, there couldn't be. Could there? Maybe he just misread everything.

The Slytherins noticed his reaction and dissolved into poorly concealed laughter.

“That was cruel, Pan,” Regulus said quietly, finally looking up from his work. His gray eyes briefly met James’ across the room before he turned back to his friends. “There is no Ravenclaw. Stop toying with him.”

“But it’s so entertaining,” Evan protested. “Look at his face! He’s absolutely green with envy at the thought.”

“Green isn’t his colour, if I must say,” Barty observed. “Clashes terribly with all that red and gold. Makes it look like Christmas.”

James has had enough. With all that was left of his dignity, he gathered his books and stood to leave. As he passed their table, Dorcas stuck out her foot, causing him to slightly stumble.

“Careful, Potter,” she said sweetly. “You wouldn’t want to fall any harder than you already have.”

More laughter followed him as he pushed through the library doors. He was so filled with embarrassment that he didn’t notice the footsteps behind him until a hand caught his arm, pulling him into an alcove behind a suit of armour.

“They’re idiots,” Regulus said without preamble. “Ignore them.”

James blinked in surprise. “You followed me?”

“I told them I needed a different reference book,” Regulus glanced back towards the library. “I don’t have long.”

“Is it true?” James asked before he could stop himself. “About your type, I mean.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “They don’t know anything about what I want.”

“And what do you want?” James asked bluntly.

For a moment, Regulus just looked at him, his expression unreadable. Then, with a quick glance around to ensure they were alone, he took a step closer.

“Not what they think,” he said softly.

James’ heart hammered in his chest. “What about ridiculous glasses and hedge-trimmer hair?”

A hint of a smile touched Regulus’ lips. “I find I don’t mind them as much as I should.”

“And Quidditch?” James pressed, though he was hardly breathing.

"Did you forget that I also play?” Regulus shook his head, the smile growing.

James couldn’t help but grin. “So I might have a chance after all?”

“I didn’t say that,” Regulus replied, but there was no bite. “I should get back before they come looking for me.”

“Right,” James nodded, still grinning foolishly. “Of course.”

Regulus turned to go, then paused. “James?”

“Yes, Reg?”

“Next time you want to watch me study, just join us at the table. It would be far less pathetic.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“It’s permission to stop being ridiculous,” Regulus clarified, voice firm but his eyes held warmth. “The constant staring is getting embarrassing for everyone involved.”

[daxisyzz]

Light After the Shadows

Pairings: boyfriend!bucky barnes x girlfriend!reader

Summary: Overwhelmed by work and self-doubt, you feel like a failure—until your caring boyfriend Bucky helps you rediscover your inner strength with his gentle support and cozy evenings sharing your love of books.

Warnings and tags: mental health, feeling overwhelmed, feelings not upto the mark, supportive Bucky, fluff, talks of mental health, supportive boyfriend Bucky, caring Bucky.

Word count: 1.2k+

A/n: This fic is totally self-indulgent, as I was feeling overwhelmed with everything that has been happening over the past month.

Requests are open!!!

For the past month, work has felt like wading through thick fog. Every morning, you drag yourself out of bed, dreading the pile of tasks waiting for you at the office. Meetings blur into one another, and deadlines slip past while your focus remains just out of reach. You’ve tried everything—coffee, long hours at the desk, even talking to colleagues—but nothing seems to pull you out of this slump. Instead, each day leaves you feeling more frustrated and convinced that you’re just not enough.

It was a particularly rough day when you came home, shoulders heavy with exhaustion and eyes rimmed with unshed tears. The email from your supervisor had been the final straw—a curt note pointing out that your latest project wasn’t meeting expectations. You felt like you’d let everyone down, and worst of all, you felt like you’d let yourself down.

When you stepped into the apartment, you found Bucky waiting in the kitchen. The soft glow of the overhead light and the gentle hum of a familiar song on the radio wrapped around you like a warm blanket. He looked up as you entered, his eyes immediately softening with concern. Without a word, he went over, wrapped you in a hug, and held you close as if to shield you from the world outside.

“You look like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders,” Bucky said quietly, his voice laced with genuine care. “Talk to me, love. What happened today?”

You hesitated at first, feeling the sting of self-doubt tighten your throat. But with Bucky’s steady gaze and gentle presence, you found the courage to speak. “It’s just… I can’t focus anymore, Buck. Work feels impossible. I tried so hard, and I’m just not meeting the mark. I feel stupid, like I’m failing at everything.”

Bucky pulled back slightly, his expression tender yet determined. “Hey,” he said softly, reaching up to cup your cheek. “Listen to me. You are not stupid, and you are certainly not a failure. Everyone goes through rough patches. It doesn’t define who you are or what you’re capable of.”

He guided you over to the couch, sitting close so that you could lean into his warmth. “I know you’re struggling, and I can see how hard you’re trying,” he continued. “Maybe you’re expecting perfection from yourself, but perfection isn’t real—it’s the pursuit that makes you human. And you’re one of the kindest, most talented people I know.”

As he spoke, you felt a small ember of comfort kindling inside you. Bucky’s words weren’t grand proclamations meant to erase your doubts, but they were gentle reminders that you were loved and valued. Over the following minutes, he patiently listened as you poured out your feelings, the frustrations and insecurities that had been building inside you until you couldn’t contain them any longer.

When you finally fell silent, Bucky reached for your hand. “How about we take a break together?” he suggested. “Let’s step away from all of this for a while. I’ve planned something for us—a little evening escape. Just you and me, no pressure, no work.”

Later that evening, Bucky led you out the door for a walk through a nearby park. The crisp night air and soft glow of streetlights did their best to lift the weight of the day from your shoulders. He didn’t push you to talk about work or force you to “snap out of it.” Instead, he simply held your hand as you walked, and every now and then, he’d offer a quiet, encouraging smile that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could get through this.

At a small café tucked away on a quiet side street, Bucky ordered your favorite hot chocolate—extra marshmallows, just the way you liked it. Over the clink of cups and the low murmur of conversation, you began to share little memories from better times: a funny incident at work before everything went sideways, a childhood memory that made you laugh, and dreams you once had for the future. Bucky listened intently, his eyes full of understanding and unwavering support.

“You know,” he said between sips of his coffee, “I believe that these rough patches are just a part of your story. They’re not the whole story. You’re amazing, and sometimes even the brightest stars go through dark nights before shining again.”

His words, gentle yet sincere, began to chip away at the walls you’d built around yourself. You started to realize that maybe it was okay to feel lost for a while, that taking time to care for yourself wasn’t a sign of weakness but an act of self-love.

After you returned home, Bucky stayed by your side as you set up a cozy corner in the living room. He spread out a soft blanket, arranged a stack of your favorite books on the coffee table, and dimmed the lights until only the soft glow of a floor lamp illuminated the space. “Let’s have a little reading marathon,” he suggested with a playful glimmer in his eye. “No work, no stress—just you, me, and some good stories.”

As the evening unfolded, you and Bucky lost yourselves in the pages of books, occasionally pausing to discuss favorite lines, laugh at the quirks of fictional characters, or simply enjoy the quiet together. In those moments, you began to feel like yourself again. The anxiety and self-doubt didn’t vanish entirely, but they were no longer all-consuming. With Bucky’s gentle reassurance, you rediscovered that you were not defined solely by your struggles at work.

Over the next few days, you started taking small steps to regain control. Bucky helped you establish a routine that included moments of self-care—a short walk in the morning, a dedicated time for reading, even a few moments of meditation before bed. He was patient and loving, never pushing too hard but always there with a supportive word or a warm hug whenever you needed it.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you sat by the window watching the sunset. Bucky joined you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I’m proud of you, doll,” he said softly. “I know it’s been tough, but you’re trying your best, and that means everything to me.”

You leaned into his warmth, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. “I’m scared sometimes,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Scared that I’ll never get back on track, that I’ll always feel this way.”

Bucky squeezed you gently. “It’s okay to be scared,” he replied. “But remember, I’m here. We’re in this together. And every day, even the small victories count. You’re stronger than you know.”

In that quiet moment, you realized that while the challenges you faced were real, so was the love and support that surrounded you. With Bucky by your side, you began to see that your worth wasn’t measured by a single month of struggles or a few setbacks at work. Instead, it was woven into every kind word, every shared smile, and every moment of understanding that made you feel seen and cherished.

As time passed, the fog of uncertainty slowly lifted. Your work began to improve, not because you forced yourself to be perfect, but because you allowed yourself the grace to be human. And every time you doubted yourself, Bucky’s steady presence reminded you that you were never alone.

In the end, you learned that setbacks were just chapters in your story, not the final page. With love, patience, and a little help from someone who believed in you, you could always find a way to write a new beginning—even after the darkest nights.

And so, with Bucky’s unwavering support lighting your way, you took a deep breath, ready to face tomorrow with renewed hope.