#yes there is karaoke at my party | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jakesimfromstatefarm · 3 months ago

Text

no doubt ── s. jy

↳ summary ── struggling to balance a world tour, endless responsibilities, and...well, the sting of getting dumped by his girlfriend, jake finds peace & comfort confiding in you—one of his closest friends. what begins as lighthearted late-night phone calls while he's away on tour deepens into something more, quickly pulling you both into uncharted emotional territory. as your connection with jake intensifies, so does your inner turmoil—torn between the comfort of your easy relationship with him and the terrifying possibility of falling for someone you're not even sure you can have in the first place. but jake? jake has absolutely no doubt of what he wants—and spoiler alert? it's you.

↳ pairing ── jake x f!reader, [ft. childhoodbestfriend!jungwon, bestfriends!enha]

↳ genre ── idol!jake, friends to lovers!au || angstttt, fluff, crack

↳ ✎ᝰ. 23.7k [never beating the allegations of getting too attached to my works and having too much fun writing i fear...]

↳ contains ── angst! very angsty but only after a lot of fluff...the cheesy cringe type but then it goes downhill real quick...but happy ending i swear!, mentions of insecurities, maybe one or two curse words, fic starts with jake dating og character named jenn, the use of pet names, jungwon practically plays therapist, jake is absolutely whipped for reader but is terrible at communication and a certified idiot . also jungwon is reader's best friend so the beginning sets up the context for that lolz

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── she's DONEEE [do u hear me crying in the background]...so some backstory lore abt this fic—basically two years ago i had a dream about the ~angsty scene~ of this fic and ever since then, i've had this itch of putting it into words. and when i finally decided to do it, no doubt came out and i thought it was literal fate since the lyrics match the vibe so well...don't tell me it isn't fate guys :') anyways..this is a little different than my typical writing style even though of course i had to include summm crack..but i am still nervous abt how it came out so i really really hope you guys like it :') thank u for all the support and love always <3

↳ update .ᐟ ── check out the sequel series of this fic here!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

You and Yang Jungwon were literally born to be best friends.

Like, there was no other option.

Your mom? Their high school's poster child for academic perfection—top of her class, president of every club imaginable, a certified teacher's pet.

Jungwon's mom? Their high school's unofficial social chair—life of the party, karaoke queen, probably responsible for half the faculty's headaches.

Nothing alike.

So naturally, of course, they were inseparable. By their junior year, they'd already started planning their futures together, including one very specific and totally realistic goal that all teenage girl best friends make when they're young:

"We should have our first kids around the same time and force them to be best friends!"

"Oh my gosh, yes," Jungwon's mom agreed enthusiastically. "Like, we'll make them share everything! Matching outfits, playdates, joint birthday parties!"

But what your moms didn't realize as they were giggling over the playful promise that probably didn't hold any meaning to them at the age of 17?

The universe was taking notes.

So fast forward a couple decades later, and there you were, baby best friends from birth, fulfilling the shared dream of your mothers—the true puppeteers in this scenario.

All your moms had to do was execute their promise as planned, but the rest of it? The rest of it was easy.

You and Jungwon clicked before you even knew what words were, communicating in a series of shared giggles and unintelligible baby noises. By the time you turned two, you were finishing each other's sentences in your made-up gibberish language, and by preschool, the bond was unshakable.

You two—just like your moms—were inseparable.

By high school, everyone knew you were a package deal—where you went, Jungwon followed, and vice versa. So, when he announced your sophomore year that he was leaving to compete on a televised idol survival show, you were, understandably, skeptical.

"Are you sure it's not a scam?" You had asked, rolling lazily around on his bed while he scrambled around his room, packing his bags.

"It's not a scam," Jungwon laughed, carefully folding his clothes.

"Did they ask for your social security number?"

"Y/N."

"Exactly. I'm just saying—if you end up on one of those exposé documentaries about fake talent shows, don't say I didn't warn you."

Despite your teasing, you knew how much this meant to him. Jungwon had been dreaming about being in the music spotlight since he figured out how to work a karaoke machine at the age of six.

So when he eventually did make his debut with his group, you weren't surprised at all—it was inevitable, written in the stars, just like how your friendship with him was.

What did surprise you, though, was how seamlessly you got roped into his new world.

Sure, Jungwon's life got infinitely busier overnight, but there is no universe that exists in which he'd forget about you—his non-conjoined twin, ride-or-die, and ultimate life-long nuisance (his words, not yours).

And so naturally, you became an honorary member of this new life of his. The boys' practice studio might as well be your new home—the endless days camping out on the floor of their dance studio with your head in your textbooks while they drilled their choreography for the hundredth time proved that. Or maybe how you crash on their dorm couch so often that Sunoo coined you your new nickname: their unofficial eighth member.

Which brings you to now: a marketing major by day, unofficial idol by night, and, as always, a certified magnet to chaos.

Case in point? Whatever madness was happening around you at this exact moment.

"Okay, but hear me out," Heeseung says, gesturing dramatically with his pizza slice—one of many scattered across the coffee table everyone was sitting around. "Pineapple is the perfect combination of sweet and savory—"

"It's a crime against humanity," Sunghoon cuts in.

Tomorrow? The boys leave for their five-month tour.

Tonight? Tonight is tradition: the pre-tour pizza bash.

Naturally, it's chaos, as no one has bothered with the last-minute packing they're supposed to be doing.

Not a single bag is packed.

"It's fruit on bread," you scrunch your nose, taking a bite of your own normal pepperoni pizza. "This isn't dessert, Hee."

"Thank you!" Sunghoon reaches across the table to high-five you.

From the couch behind you, Jake chuckles and nudges your back with his knee, "Big talk coming from someone who claims pickles belong on everything."

"Uh, because they do," you whip your head around to glare at him. "Pickles are versatile."

"Versatile my ass," Jungwon mumbles from his spot beside you. "I love you, but you're deranged."

"Look who's talking, Mr. 'I-put-hot-sauce-on-everything'," you shoot back, eyes narrowing at your best friend. Everyone chuckles from around the table at your dramatic, yet endearing, overreaction.

"Hot sauce is different," Jay chimes in without even looking up from his phone. "It's an enhancer."

"Pickles enhance flavor too!"

"By making everything taste like vinegar," Sunoo deadpans from your other side. "Gross."

"Whatever," you roll your eyes. "You're all uncultured."

"And you're a menace," Jake quips from behind you, his voice dripping with amusement. You don't even have to turn around to see the smirk on his face—you can hear it loud and clear.

"Careful, Sim," you say with a sly glance over your shoulder. "Keep talking, and I'll start adding pickle juice to your coffee."

The room fills with laughter, but before Jake can fire back, his phone buzzes aggressively against the couch. You watch him glance down at his screen before his playful smile instantly fades.

"I'll be right back," Jake mutters, getting up and heading towards the kitchen without another word.

You frown as you watch him disappear around the corner, the sudden shift in his mood gnawing at you, and you can't help but wonder what's gotten under his skin.

After a few more minutes of heated debates over pizza toppings—and yet another round of everyone ganging up on your weird pickle obsession—you decide it was time for a drink refill.

Excusing yourself, you step into the kitchen, only to find Jake leaning against the counter, his arms crossed and gaze fixed on the empty wall in front of him. His phone sits abandoned on the counter, screen dark.

"Jake?" You call out softly, approaching slowly.

Your voice breaks through his haze, his expression flickering as he registers you standing in the doorway, your brows furrowed in concern.

"What's going on?" You ask, moving closer to stand in front of him.

"Nothing," Jake says too quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

You give him a look and he knows that you know he's lying, "Jake.."

He exhales, his expression crumbling as he runs a hand through his hair, "Just...Jenn called."

Ah. Of course. Jenn.

You almost flinch at the sound of the name, the weight it carries instantly souring your stomach. Jake's on-again, off-again girlfriend of two years was a constant source of heartbreak—not just for the poor boy, but for the entire group who helped pick up the pieces of his broken heart after every messy break-up…and even messier make-up.

"She broke up with me," Jake admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "For real this time. Something about me leaving for tour and how it wasn't going to work out."

Your heart hurts at the sight of him in front of you—shoulders slumped, hands nervously twisting the hem of his shirt, as if trying to distract himself from the conversation.

"Oh, Jake...," you murmur, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as you lean against the counter next to him.

"I'm fine," he insists, waving it off, but the expression on his face clearly betrays him.

"No, you're not," you say, trying to catch his eyes. "And that's okay."

Jake lets out a shaky breath, finally looking up from the ground to look at you, before shrugging, "I don't even know why I’m surprised. We've been...really off for a while now. Like, more than usual. But still, it sucks."

“Of course, it sucks," you nod, agreeing softly. "You guys were together for a long time. You cared about her."

For a moment, the two of you sit in a heavy silence with an unspoken understanding, the only sounds coming from the muffled chatter and laughter in the other room. You stay close, letting him process without pushing further.

Still, you can't entirely suppress the annoying flare of emotions bubbling in your chest—a tangled knot of sympathy and…something else. Relief, maybe? Not that you would ever wish any sort of pain on Jake—but you hate the way Jenn always leaves him like this: drained, doubting himself, and trying to piece together what went wrong, where he went wrong.

"Come back to the living room," you say finally, nudging his side gently. "Ni-ki is freaking out over which hoodies to pack. And I swear, they're all the same black hoodie."

Jake lets out a small, tired laugh, "You don't need me for that. He's gonna end up packing all of them, just watch."

"You don't know that," you tease. "Besides, I need someone's back up to help me convince him he's not actually going through an emo phase."

His eyes carry a faint smile as he looks at you, the corners of his lips lifting just enough to remind you of the warmth he usually carries.

"Okay," he says in a whisper, pushing himself off the counter.

You start towards the doorway, forgetting about your drink refill entirely, but his voice stops you.

"Y/N?"

You turn to find him still standing there, his eyes filled with warmth and appreciation.

"Thanks," he adds, a small smile on his face. It's such a simple statement, but the way he says it—soft, sincere, and maybe just a little desperate—makes something twist in your stomach. "For just...always being here."

You smile back up at the boy, "Of course, Jake. I'll always be here for you. You know that."

For a moment, he holds your gaze, as if taking a mental note of something. Then he nods, his shoulders relaxing.

"Okay," he says, exhaling as he gestures toward the doorway. "Let's go.”

You follow behind the boy back to the living room, silently hoping he knows just how much you mean your promise to him.

Jake's body is on autopilot at this point.

Another city, another show, another string of flashing lights and deafening cheers. It's a month into tour, and the endless loop of responsibilities has left him no room to just breathe.

And he loves this life—he really does. But tonight, for reasons he can't explain, the adrenaline that usually keeps him afloat isn't enough. Pure exhaustion lingers in his bones, heavier than the applause and screams echoing in his memory, and he just can’t seem to shake it.

When his head finally hits the stiff hotel pillow, Jake exhales with a heavy sigh. The city around him is alive, the neon lights brightly dancing against his windowpane, but he feels none of it.

Instead? He just feels the weight of homesickness and the ache of being alone.

Normally, he would push through, shove these thoughts into the back of his mind, call it a night. But tonight, the ache feels different—sharper, louder—and before he knows it, his phone is in his hand before he can talk himself out of it, his thumb hovering over your name on his screen.

A familiar battle wages in his mind, one he’s been battling more recently ever since tour became a little heavier on him. Slowly, the quiet yearning has been creeping in, and he’s been missing home more and more, craving the feeling of familiarity. But it isn’t just the physical places or the comfort of his regular routine that he craves.

It’s something else, something harder to name.

And for some other reason he can’t seem to explain, he thinks it’s you.

Jake doesn’t know when it started. Maybe it was hearing the sound of your voice through the phone whenever the guys called you to check in every now and then. Or maybe it was the way you would text in their shared group chat, your messages always tinged with humor or a sense of calm that somehow made everything feel a little less overwhelming.

Whatever it was, it stuck with him. He finds himself craving that unexplainable comfort only you seem to bring. He tells himself it’s nothing special, just the natural pull of familiarity. You’re back at home, the place he misses the most, so obviously, through association, it makes sense.

It’s logical. Nothing more.

That’s what he tells himself as his thumb hovers over your name. It’s not about you specifically—it couldn’t be. It’s just the connection to home. The grounding warmth of your voice. The way you somehow make the distance feel a little less suffocating.

Obviously. Nothing more.

He presses call.

Two rings. That's all it takes before your voice cuts through all the static in his head. Groggy, soft, and achingly familiar. Like home.

"Jake? It's late, is everything okay?"

Jake glances at the clock. 10:13PM where he is. Much later for you, he imagines. Guilt stirs, but...

He doesn't want to hang up.

Hearing your voice feels like the first breath of air after surfacing from deep water. He instantly feels more comfortable despite the heaviness in his chest.

"Hey," he mumbles, his voice quiet. "I'm okay. Just...needed to hear a friendly voice, I guess."

"Wow, are the boys that bad that you need to call me?" You tease warmly, despite the sleepiness lingering in your words.

Jake chuckles, the sound low and tired, "Nothing against them, really. It's just...sometimes you need someone who reminds you of home, you know?"

The other end of the line goes quiet for a moment. He can hear you shuffle, and he braces himself for a teasing comment about him being sappy and sentimental. But instead, your voice softens.

"Well, I'm glad I could be that for you," your voice telling him you're smiling brightly on the other side of the screen. "Though if I had a private jet, I'd send it right now. Bring you back instantly."

"A private jet, huh?" Jake's eyes flutter close as he's engulfed into the usual, playful rhythm that's always there between the two of you. "You'd do that for me?"

"Only if you bring back goodies, preferably snacks," you quip back, and the warmth in his chest grows.

There's another pause, the kind that feels comfortable rather than awkward. Jake shifts in his spot and before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make everything feel...lighter. Like, I can’t explain it, but just hearing you makes me feel like I’m not carrying all this stuff by myself.”

Your voice softens at his sudden vulnerability.

“Because you don't have to carry it all on your own, Jake. You know that, right? That’s what friends are for."

Jake hums in response, a low sound of acknowledgement as he keeps his phone pressed close, your voice instantly soothing the heavy emotions he's been carrying.

"You sound exhausted," you say after a beat, your tone cautious but filled with genuine care. "How are you holding up? With everything—the tour, the...break-up, just...you?"

Jake lets out a low groan, his fingers brushing through his hair. "You sound like my mom."

"Well, someone has to," you tease lightly, a relieved laugh slipping into your voice, as if you'd been afraid you overstepped. "Seriously, Jake. Are you doing okay?"

Jake hesitates, the question catching him off guard. He hadn't let himself think too much about Jenn or the breakup since leaving for tour a month ago. The boys knew better than to bring it up, and Jake had been grateful for that—for the distraction.

But now, with you, it feels different.

Safer, easier. Natural.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” he sighs, the sound heavy through the phone. “Some days it feels like I’m fine, like I’ve moved on, and other days...it’s like I’m stuck in this loop of ‘what ifs.’ Like, what if I did something different? Or..."

He trails off to a pause, his throat tight, before he finally admits to you, and himself, "...what if I just wasn't enough?"

“Jake,” you say gentle but firm, cutting through his spiraling thoughts. “You are enough. You've always been enough. Jenn...she just wasn’t the right person for you. That doesn’t mean you did anything wrong.”

He swallows hard, your words settling into the cracks he didn't even realize were there.

"Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. It's just...hard, you know? Haven't really talked about it since it happened. But talking to you helps—a lot."

“I’m glad." He can hear the quiet sincerity in your words. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing an amazing job. With tour, with...everything. You've got this, Jake. I’m really proud of you.”

Jake lets out a breathy laugh, the warmth in your words settling something in his chest—a knot he didn't even realize was there.

“You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“It’s a gift,” you easily reply, and he can hear the grin in your voice, the easy banter making him feel lighter.

"I missed this," the words tumble out before he can stop himself. Then he quickly adds, as if to explain himself, "It's weird not having you around. The boys are great and all, but you give the best advice. Don't tell them that."

You giggle on your end, the sound making Jake's lips curve into a small smile and his heart twists.

In both a comforting and terrifying way.

"I miss it too," your voice quieter now. "But I'm here. You know that, right? Even if you're on the other side of the world, or if you call me at four in the morning like you're doing right now."

Jake lets out a chuckle followed by a sleepy groan, "Sorry about that. But...thank you, Y/N. For picking up."

"Always," you reply, and he hopes you mean it.

A beat passes. Jake knows he should hang up, that he should let you sleep. He tries to convince himself that you need the sleep more than he needs this call.

But he can't help himself.

"You'll yell at me if I don't sleep, won't you?"

"Absolutely. Go to bed, Jake. Or at least try. Zombie mode doesn't suit you."

"Fine," he sighs dramatically, but his eyes feel heavier and he knows he's falling asleep, the tension in his body from before easing away. "But only because you scare me sometimes."

You laugh. "Good. Now get some rest. And call me whenever you need to, okay?"

"Okay," he mumbles into his phone quietly, his mind already slipping into a deep sleep.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Jake."

"Don't you have a bedtime, Sim Jaeyun?" You tease, answering the call. The clock reads 1:27AM, and you should be asleep—you really should—but you smile anyways when Jake's name appears on your screen.

"Bedtime? I don't know her," his voice slightly groggy, but as usual, still warm. "Besides I knew you'd be awake. You don't sleep like a normal person either."

You roll your eyes, knowing fully well he can't see it, "Yeah, well, I don't have to dance around a stage for two hours tomorrow."

"True, but you do have to deal with my constant calls and keep me entertained. That's way harder."

"Oh yeah, obviously," you say with mock seriousness. "Being your emotional support human is a full-time job."

“Emotional support human,” Jake repeats, chuckling softly. “You’re right. I guess I really owe you, huh?”

“Oh, 100%,” you shoot back, a grin in your voice. “I want one of those tour hoodies you guys keep posting with.”

“Done. What size?”

"The oversized one."

Jake pauses. “Let me guess—so you can sleep in it?"

You hesitate, suddenly sheepish at how he knows you too well, “Hey, it's only cozy if it's oversized!"

You hear his soft laugh on the other end of the line.

“Cute. I’ll make sure to steal one for you.”

You try not to overanalyze the way your stomach flips at the word cute, and the easy way he says it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You shake the thought off immediately. This wasn't new, after all, Jake's always warm and easy to talk to. But lately—over the past month of phone calls—the way he says certain things, the tone he says them in, and the way they make you feel? It carried a weight you weren't sure how to hold.

In both a comforting and terrifying way.

“So, how was your day?” you suddenly bring up, trying to redirect your thoughts.

"Tiring," Jake sighs, his voice muffled as he shifts around in bed. "And Jungwon keeps beating me at Mario Kart during our break time. My pride is in shambles, Y/N."

"Let me guess," you smirk, repeating his words from earlier. "He picks Yoshi, and you keep picking Toad because you think he's underrated."

"Excuse me," Jake scoffs. "Toad is underrated. But, for your information, I choose Toad because your go-to character is Toadette."

Your heart does that stupid flip again. His words are light—I mean, you guys are talking about Mario Kart for god's sake—but it's stuff like that that keeps you questioning the true meaning behind his words.

You ignore the feeling, instead, a laugh bubbles up in response, an attempt to sound unaffected.

"You're so weird."

“But you like it,” he quips, voice dipping just slightly, like he’s testing the waters.

You're caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone, but you recover just as quickly.

"Debatable."

“Liar.”

His tone is teasing, but there's something softer behind it, “You wouldn’t still be on the phone with me if you didn’t like me at least a little.”

“Maybe I’m just bored,” you shoot back, though your cheeks are burning at his sudden forwardness, questioning if he’s serious or just messing with you.

You hear him hum in response, "Then I guess I'll have to work harder to keep you interested."

“Oh yeah? How are you planning to do that?” You try to match his teasing tone, but internally, you feel unsteady under the implication of his words.

“By being my usual charming self, duh,” he says, his voice dropping into a smooth tone. “And, you know, calling you every night so you don’t forget about me.”

Your heart squeezes. "You already do that, stupid. You think I'd forget about you?"

“Never,” Jake's reply is immediate, almost instinctive, leaving no room for doubt. “But just in case…I like hearing your voice. Makes me feel like I’m not a million miles away.”

His words linger in the space between you, heavier than the playful banter from earlier. You swallow hard, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

“You’re not a million miles away, Jake.”

“Feels like it,” he murmurs. You hear a pause in his voice, as if he's thinking hard about his next words. “I miss home. I miss...you."

Your chest tightens, and your hands grip the sheets beneath you, as if the fabric could somehow ground you. Your heart is doing that thing again—the erratic, terrifying thing that makes you want to believe in something you're not sure is even real.

And at the same time, your thoughts are scrambling to say something lighthearted before the conversation steers into that dangerous, dangerous territory you were sure you weren't ready for.

Not yet.

"Well, you better win at least one round of Mario Kart for me while you're out there," you force a laugh, trying to mask the tremor in your voice.

Jake laughs, the sound genuine, "I'll try. But if I lose, just know I'm dedicating every race to you."

"Wow, I'm so honored," you try to deadpan, but he can sense the grin in your voice.

"You should be," his voice softens again. "Thanks for picking up tonight, by the way. I know it's late."

He never fails to thank you every night, as if you haven't been picking up every day for the past month and won't be picking up tomorrow, and the next day...and the day after that.

And, somehow, the same, genuine appreciation makes it so hard for you to ignore that weird, warm, fluttering sensation growing inside you every time you talk to him.

But, regardless, you always give him the same reply:

"Always," your voice matching his softness. "Call me whenever, okay?"

"Don’t say that," Jake warns, the teasing edge creeping back into his tone. "I'll actually do it."

"Fine," you giggle. "But if you call me at four in the morning again, I'm putting my phone on Do Not Disturb."

"Deal." He pauses, then adds, "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Jake."

As you hang up, you stare at your phone for a moment longer than you should have, your room feeling oddly quiet and too empty without his voice.

It's just another call, Y/N. Just another call between two friends.

But deep down, a part of you tells you it isn’t that simple anymore.

And maybe—just maybe—he knows it too.

“Are you busy?” Jake’s voice sounds more tired than usual, heavy with an overwhelming amount of tension.

“Never too busy for our calls,” you easily reply without hesitation as you lay back in your bed, phone close to your ear. Your voice is light, a stark contrast to the weariness laced in his, and when he doesn’t respond with his typical chuckle, you immediately sense his mood. “Hard day?”

He exhales slowly, the weary sound answering your question. Today was a lot. Hours of rehearsal followed by a concert, the adrenaline rush of performing, followed by the chaos of having the guys’ hotel information leaked. Crowds of paparazzi and fans swarmed the entrance, the relentless flashes of cameras breaking through whatever little pieces of calm he had left within him. The noise, the pressure, the endless cycle—all spiraled into a mental mess he doesn’t seem to shake.

The second he settled into his hotel room, all Jake knew was that he needed to talk to you—the one person who could steady his racing thoughts.

"I just...I didn't think this would get to me, you know? The cameras, the people, the flashes in my face—I'm just—it's like I'm never alone."

Your heart twists at the vulnerability and rawness in his voice, as if he’s admitting something for the first time—not just to anyone else, but to himself.

"I—I don't know. Sometimes I wish I could just disappear, just for a little while. Just to breathe, you know?"

You close your eyes, your grip on the phone unconsciously tightening as if it could anchor him somehow.

"I know it's not the same," your voice steady, even as you internally ached for him, "but...you can disappear with me, Jake. Even if it's just through the call. No cameras. No noise. Just...you and me."

He lets out an exhale—shaky, but relieved.

"You're really good at this. Making me feel like it's all gonna be okay."

"Because it is going to be okay, Jake," you reply softly. "You're not alone, Jake. Not with me."

"Yeah," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, and he wishes more than anything else in this moment that he actually was with you. “I know.”

"Jake," you groan, sitting cross-legged on your bed, staring at the flustered boy through your laptop screen. "I'm begging you—just wear the black jacket. It's literally impossible to mess up black."

"But what about the beanie?" He whines as he pops back into view, his face scrunched up in genuine distress. "Do you think I can pull it off, or will I look like I'm trying too hard? Be honest, Y/N."

What started as a simple fashion-advice-question over the phone turned into a two-hour wardrobe emergency—all because Jake couldn’t figure out what to wear to the airport the next day (because, apparently, airport fits matter—his words, not yours).

"Jake, you could wear a literal trash bag to the airport and fans would still lose their minds," you tease, biting back a laugh.

He rolls his eyes at you, but the smile tugging at his lips says otherwise.

"Okay, but seriously, you’re trying too hard. Just go with the jacket, no beanie," you add on, just to end this two-hour long madness.

"Hmm," Jake plops on his bed and turns towards his phone camera, and you swear you can see the pout forming on his lips. "But I already posted a preview of the jacket last week. Isn't that, like, repetitive?"

"Jake,” you blink at him, "it's an airport. Not a fashion show."

He stares at you for a beat, then lets out a dramatic sigh, "Fine! Jacket, no beanie. But if I see even one criticizing comment calling me basic, I'm blaming you."

You laugh, shaking your head at his ridiculousness, "Deal. Now go to sleep, Sim Jaeyun."

His grin softens as he adjusts the camera to fully look at you, pout gone, eyes glistening.

"Only because you said so."

"Hey," you say softly, answering the call as you snuggle deeper into your blanket, letting it engulf you completely.

The familiar sound of Jake's quiet breathing fills the space between you, and before he even says a word, you already know.

"Rough day?" You ask gently when he doesn’t say anything after a few seconds.

"Yeah," he murmurs, his voice quieter than usual, almost drowned out by the low hum of background noise. "I just...I don't really feel like talking right now, if that's okay."

"Of course," you reply without hesitation, your tone gentle, no questions asked.

On the other end, Jake presses the phone closer to this ear in an attempt to feel closer to you, instantly feeling better from your pure understanding of how he’s feeling, and he thinks—not for the first time—that you might be his favorite person in the world.

The warm silence engulfs the both of you like a shared blanket, unspoken yet understood. You can hear the faint echoes of his surroundings: the muffled laughter of the boys somewhere nearby, the distant honk of traffic outside his hotel, and then the quiet shuffle of Jake shifting positions in his hotel bed. You catch his breath catching slightly, like he's finally allowing himself to relax—to just be.

You don't try to fill the silence. You know that he needs this—a moment of peace in the chaos. Instead, you similarly press the phone closer to your ear, as if doing so can somehow bridge the miles between you, hoping he can sense your presence reaching out for him.

Minutes pass like this, and for a moment, it’s so quiet you begin to wonder if he's falling asleep. But then, a deep exhale breaks the stillness.

"Thank you, Y/N," he says finally, his voice low but steady, carrying a weight of sincerity that makes your heart clench.

"You don't have to thank me, Jake," your voice matches his softness. "You know that."

"Still," his voice is low, so quiet, it feels like a secret meant only for you. "I appreciate you. More than you probably know."

You smile to yourself, your heart aching in the best way possible, and you desperately try your best to ignore it, no matter how much excitement it brought you.

"Always, Jake."

“Tell me something about you that I don’t already know,” you challenge him, your voice carrying that light and endearing tone over the phone that Jake’s come to crave.

“Hmm,” Jake hums thoughtfully as he lies in his bed, eyes closed, just simply treasuring the small moments, like this one, with you.

Even though it’s definitely 3AM where he is right now. And he definitely has to be up in a few hours for rehearsal.

Oh well, completely irrelevant. Talking about everything and anything with you just felt so right.

“I don’t know,” he eventually exhales, his brain too foggy to think of anything logical right now. “I feel like you know me better than I know myself at this point, Y/N.”

“You’re so corny it physically hurts, Jake,” you scoff, and Jake swears he can feel your exaggerated eye roll from thousands of miles away.

“Oh—wait, wait! I have one,” he perks up, his eyes shooting open as he turns towards the phone in excitement.

“Hit me,” you say, unconsciously smiling at how cute he sounds.

“I’m allergic to flowers.”

The line falls silent for a beat before you erupt into a storm of giggles so wild it makes Jake feel sick from how fast the butterflies in his stomach start fluttering.

“That’s your fun fact? That’s so tragic, Jake,” you gasp through your giggles. “Like, depressingly tragic.”

“Hey! It’s not that sad, it could be worse,” Jake hopes you can hear his pout over the phone (you can).

“So you’re telling me you’ve never bought a girl flowers before?” You tease, smiling to yourself as you stare at your ceiling.

“Guess not,” Jake lets out a laugh, which surprises himself. “Jenn used to always get mad at me for never getting her any, but what am I supposed to do? Show up with a bouquet and an epi-pen? I literally start tearing up whenever I’m around any kind.”

You lose it all over again, your laughter spilling through Jake’s phone like sunshine, and Jake doesn’t even realize he’s smiling so widely until his cheeks start to ache.

But what Jake does realize is something unexpected: for the first time in forever, he can talk about Jenn without a single pang of…anything. No weird tension, no lingering sadness—just a casual mention and then…nothing.

It’s freeing, this feeling of lightness, like an invisible weight he didn’t know he was even carrying has suddenly lifted. He wonders if this is what moving on really feels like, if he’s found his emotional freedom. He wonders when it changed.

He wonders maybe it’s not when—maybe it’s who.

And he wonders if it’s you.

Today was supposed to be Jake’s day off. The golden ticket to rest, recharge, and not think about anything.

Key term: supposed to be.

Instead, Jake found himself knee-deep in the trenches of emotional warfare—and losing spectacularly.

The morning started innocently enough. No alarm, no schedule, just the soft promise of freedom that was so close within his reach. But by noon, Jake came to a harsh realization.

Freedom was a lie.

Because every step, every sight, every breath, was haunted by one inescapable thought: You.

It started with a boutique. Him and the boys had wandered down a cobblestone street in a city that Jake had already forgotten the name of—city number ten or eleven of tour? He barely knew anymore. But then his gaze caught on a mannequin in the window.

Big mistake.

The outfit on display—similar to his mind—had you written all over it. Immediately, his brain spiraled.

Y/N would love that. She'd probably drag me and all the guys in and force me to hold her bag while she tried it on.

He had to physically stop himself from dragging the group inside to purchase it on the spot.

Next? A coffee shop. And there it was: a poster featuring some limited-edition iced peach latte. Jake froze, staring at it like it held the answers to life itself.

You’d love it. You would order it, (well, you'd make Jake order it, because you hate talking to cashiers), sip it, smile, and probably rant about how overpriced it was—even though Jake would pay for it—yet you’d still finish the entire thing.

And then, you'd steal half of his drink, too.

Because you always did.

And Jake always lets you.

The final straw? A cat. Just a random stray, peacefully lounging on a sunny part of sidewalk, looking like it had zero interest in the world around it. And even that didn't escape Jake's you-obsessed filter. Without even thinking, Jake whipped out his phone.

It was instinctual at this point.

Jake [1:06PM]: (attached - one image) Jake [1:06PM]: thought you'd like this one :)

Because obviously, you needed to see that cat. Immediately.

By the time Jake collapses onto his hotel bed that evening, he feels like he’d run a mental marathon—except instead of a finish line, every road led back to you.

He flops onto his bed, hoping sleep would save him from the storm raging in his brain.

Spoiler alert: it doesn't.

Instead, it leads him to the complete opposite. He stares at your name on his phone, your contact picture, your last messages to him.

You texted him two hours ago—a sweet goodnight message that ended with your usual, 'Don't hesitate to call if you need me.'

Casual. Normal.

But it probably didn't mean, 'Hey, please interrupt my sleep from the other side of the world so we can discuss your ongoing emotional crisis over me.'

Don't do it, Jake. The remaining rational brain cells within him beg him to stop. You're being dramatic. She's not the air you need to breathe.

But at the same time, deep down, Jake really thinks you are.

The worst part? You two already had talked on the phone earlier—when Jake had another fashion crisis and couldn't decide what to wear for his day off exploring with the guys. Of course, you laughed at him, teased him, but then helped him pick something out anyways. Typical.

Personally, if it was up to him, he'd spent his whole day off on the phone with you. Talking about everything. Or nothing. Whatever you wanted, Jake would've done it, no hesitation.

Don't do it, Jake, his brain warns him again. What kind of obsessed-lunatic calls the same person twice in one day?

Answer: Jake.

But as Jake lies in his hotel bed, thoughts heavily clouded with the image of you and the sound of your voice, he realizes...this wasn't just a phone call thing. No, this was deeper, worse. And somewhere between staring at the same patch of ceiling and replaying every memory of you on a mental loop, Jake tries to rationalize it.

She’s just a good friend, Jake. A best friend, even! You think about her a lot because she’s cool and funny and…and she has the laugh of a Disney princess...But it’s normal to think about your friends, right? Right??

But the more he tries to downplay it, the clearer it becomes. This was something else.

And then it hits.

Like, really hits.

Oh my god. I like her.

Jake shoots upright, widened eyes filled with horror, as if the realization itself just physically smacked him across the face.

No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

Jake buries his face in his hands, groaning. But the groan quickly turns into a muffled scream, because the more he thinks about it, the worse it gets.

Because he thinks you're going to be the death of him. He really, really likes you. Not in the vague, 'Oh, she’s cute' way, but in the write-her-name-in-a-heart-and-doodle-little-stars-around-it kind of way. The stare-at-her-texts-like-they’re-poetry kind of way. The imagine-her-laughing-at-your-dad’s-jokes-and-enjoying-your-mom’s-meals-forever kind of way.

And this feeling? It's new. It's terrifying.

It's exhilarating.

Jake realizes in this very moment that he's never experienced this heart-pounding, face-flushing, breath-taking kind of feeling towards anyone. Sure, his past relationship had been meaningful in its own way, but now Jake is realizing that the foundation of his past relationship was tangled up in obligations and unspoken expectations. A tightrope act of Jake having to be the perfect boyfriend, the perfect idol, the perfect...everything. He never realized how suffocating it was until now—until you. Because this feeling with you?

This was pure. Simple, clear, and undeniable.

Your sheer existence proved that it's possible for someone to understand him better than he understands himself. Your laugh had a way of making everything feel lighter, like the weight of the world had been momentarily suspended. Just one look from you alone somehow always manages to make him feel like he was still worthy even on his worst days.

With you, Jake felt...himself, for once. Not Jake Sim, global popstar. Not Jake Sim, the boyfriend of so-and-so. Just...Jake.

Jake's heart pounds as the realization sinks in. He's now transitioned from screaming into his hands to his poor hotel pillow.

Because as clear and strong as this feeling is, the doubt is just as overwhelming. What if you don't feel the same? What if this ruins everything?

But at the same time...what if you do feel the same way?

What if this is his chance? The butterfly effect that changes everything? What if you're it? You have to be.

And so, like an idiot possessed, Jake's finger is one millimeter away from pressing call on your name again.

Because, obviously, the best way to deal with overwhelming feelings is to confess them from a hotel room five countries away.

Obviously.

Because what if he didn't call? What if he spent the rest of his night spiraling into an endless pit of unspoken feelings and overthinking, arms flailing as he knows the only way out of the pit is with your help?

What if his brain explodes with the sheer amount of feelings he has for you and he never has the chance to tell you ever again?

He presses call.

The line rings twice before you answer.

"Jake?" Your voice is soft, laced with surprise and just the faintest trace of sleep. "It's late for you, is everything okay?"

Jake's brain short-circuits. What time even is it for him? He has no idea, and frankly, he doesn't care.

"Yeah," he blurts, far too quickly that he winces at himself. He clears his throat before trying again, "I mean, yeah. Everything's fine. I just...couldn't sleep."

"Oh," you hum softly and Jake swears the sound alone could single-handedly resolve global wars.

Yeah, he definitely likes you.

"Is something stressing you out?" The genuine concern in your voice makes his chest tighten.

"No—well, nothing like that," Jake rushes to assure you, sitting up straighter in bed now, as if you could see him. His voice lowers, almost shy, "I just...I was thinking about you."

Silence. Jake's heart pounds so loudly, he's sure you can hear it through the phone.

"About me?" You finally tease, light and playful, but there's something softer underneath. "What did I do to deserve such an honor?"

Jake lets out a nervous, breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair, “You exist. That’s what.”

Another pause. He hears you exhale softly, and the sound alone sends his heart into overdrive.

"That was smooth," your voice is quiet, soft, as if teetering on the line of teasing and nervousness at the same time. "Ten out of ten, Jake."

"I'm serious," Jake tries his best to keep his voice from cracking, the weight of his feelings pressing down on him. "I was lying here, thinking about everything, and I realized something."

"And what's that?"

Jake's throat goes dry. His heart is screaming at him to say it, but his brain begs him to reconsider.

But Jake's sure he's lost all his rational brain cells for sure at this point, so he swallows hard, and braces himself for impact.

"I like you, Y/N."

The words spill out, raw and unpolished, but so utterly true.

“I mean, I really like you," Jake continues, his voice barely above a whisper now. "More than a friend, more than anything.”

The line goes silent, and for a split second, a lifetime of pure awkwardness and torture of not having you in his life anymore flashes in his vision, and he rushes to fill the void.

"I know this is probably the worst timing ever, and probably really scary...and it's okay if you don't feel the same way," his voice definitely cracks this time, laying everything bare, but he doesn't care anymore. "But I had to tell you. I can't pretend around you, not when being around you feels like the only time I'm really me."

Then, you let out a soft exhale—a disbelieving, breathless sound that makes Jake's heart skip a beat.

"Jake..."

"You're...you're everything, Y/N. You make life better just by being in it. And I haven't even seen you in four months, but you're all I think about," Jake lets out a small laugh, swallowing the remainder of all his pride and dignity. "I promise, when I'm back...I'll prove it to you. I'll show you how much you mean to me. Anything it takes. "

For once in his life, Jake feels completely vulnerable—and yet, strangely, it feels right.

Because he means it, every word.

He's never meant anything more.

The line had gone quiet after Jake’s confession, his words echoing in your ears.

“I like you, Y/N.”

No, not like. Really, really like.

You spent the last few days replaying his words over and over, dissecting every syllable, every tiny inflection in this voice. At first, it didn't even seem real.

A part of you still thinks it isn't—that this is all a cruel dream and you're going to wake up any second now back in the real world. The one where Jake Sim, the boy who turns heads and steals hearts without even trying, didn't just confess his deepest, most vulnerable feelings for you in a single phone call.

But no. He said it, alright. Clear as day.

First, all you felt was pure happiness. Maybe it was hearing his voice everyday, or maybe it was seeing how his face lit up through the screen when you picked up his video calls—but somewhere along the way, you knew it was something deeper.

Something that made your heart skip when his name lit up your phone, something that left you craving his voice to make your day feel complete. And now? Now the boy who’d effortlessly become your favorite part of every day was telling you you’d done the same for him.

But then, came the fear.

Because what if this was just a rebound? What if you were just a soft landing for him, a way to patch up the holes left behind by his past? Here you were, standing at the edge of something terrifyingly real, wondering if you were just a step in his recovery process—a way to fill the cracks, but not the kind of permanence you were beginning to crave.

You weren’t naive enough to see Jake’s past relationship didn’t still linger in the corners of his mind. You’d seen him struggle with it before, how hard he’d tried to convince himself he was fine. What if you were just the next step in his healing, rather than something real—a Band-Aid for a wound that wasn’t even yours to heal?

And worse—what if you let it happen? What if you let yourself fall, only to hit the ground at an alarming speed, and...splat. Not just a regular, embarrassing tumble, no. But the kind that leaves you flattened on the pavement like a cartoon character who ignored every warning sign.

Because that’s exactly what it would feel like, wouldn’t it? Giving it, letting yourself hope—only to crash and burn spectacularly.

Deep down, you knew you weren’t just risking a little heartache. Because Jake? Jake had quietly claimed a permanent spot in your heart at this point.

You were risking everything.

And the worst part?

You were already halfway there.

That was the reason why you told him you needed time. The reason why all you could manage to respond was a meek, 'I just...I need to think about this.' And to his credit, Jake hadn't pushed. Of course, not.

But now, three days later, you were no closer to an answer. If anything, the time apart had made everything worse.

Because as the days stretched on, with every passing hour, every text you didn’t send and every call you didn’t make, one thing became gut-wrenchingly, undeniably clear:

You were already his.

You miss Jake’s voice, his laugh, the way he rambles about the most random things late at night. You miss how, somehow, he made you fall asleep with a smile on your face from the other side of the world. You miss him, that even in his absence, he was still your first thought in your mind when you woke up and the last before you drifted to sleep.

And no amount of overthinking or second-guessing could change the truth that finally settled in your chest like a secret you weren’t ready to admit to yourself:

You were his. Completely.

The only question now was whether you’d let yourself believe he was yours too.

"Y/N?"

"Jungwon," you groan helplessly into your phone. "Help me."

A pause. Then, "Are you sure you meant to call me? It's Jungwon, not Jake," he teases lightly. "I can go get Jake if you meant—"

"Jungwon!" You cut him off, panicked. "I'm being serious. It's about Jake, dummy."

"Oh," his tone shifts instantly as he senses the seriousness in your voice. "Did something happen? Because I swear, for the past three days, Jake's been moping around like a kicked puppy, and I was gonna ask you about it because I know you guys have been talking a lot more, but I didn't want to push, and—"

"That's exactly it, Jungwon!" You wail into your pillow, your voice muffled. Great, now you feel even worse, knowing Jake is moping around, waiting for you.

"What's exactly it?" Your best friend presses, voice curious. "I need specifics, Y/N."

You hesitate, the words clinging to the back of your throat like they're too heavy to admit. Finally, you take a deep breath and force them out.

"Jake told me he likes me, Jungwon. Like really, really likes me. He gave this whole monologue about how I'm all he can think about, and it was so cute, and it made me want to explode from joy and fear all at once, and I don't know what to do!"

A beat of silence.

Jungwon sucks in a dramatic breath and then, "Wait, wait, wait. Back up. First of all, this is not news to me."

You blink, as if he can see your look of shock over the phone, "What?"

"This was obvious, Y/N. The guy's been smitten with you for months. You guys literally have been talking every day since we left."

Your jaw drops, "So what? You and I talk every day! How is this any different?"

Jungwon snorts, "Y/N, we text every day. About minuscule things. Like me reminding you not to forget your keys and you ghosting my last text. But you and Jake? You guys talk for hours—into the illegal hours of the night, mind you. Trust me, I know. Hotel walls are thin."

You feel your cheeks flushing, "That doesn't mean anything."

"Doesn't it?" Jungwon's voice is laced with amusement. "When's the last time you called me just to hear my voice?"

"Jungwon."

"Exactly."

You groan again, "But Jungwon, what if…what if he's not over Jenn? What if I'm just a rebound?"

Jungwon goes quiet for a moment, his tone softening when he finally speaks, “Jake’s not like that, Y/N. You know that. He wouldn’t tell you he likes you unless he meant it.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Look," he interrupts. "Jake’s a lot of things—annoyingly loud, for one—but he’s not the kind of guy who’d use someone, especially you, as a rebound. If he said he likes you, he likes you.”

You bite your lip, his words settling over you like a warm blanket—because you know they're true.

“And for what it’s worth,” Jungwon continues, “I think you like him too.”

“I..,” you falter, your heart hammering in your chest. “I do.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

You sigh, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the nerves coiled in your stomach, “I don’t know. I guess I’m scared.”

“That’s okay,” Jungwon says gently. “But don’t let fear stop you from something that could make you happy. You deserve that, Y/N. And so does Jake.”

You close your eyes, letting Jungwon's words sink in. Deep down, you know he's right, he always is.

"Thanks, Jungwon," you say, your voice softer now, tinged with gratitude.

"Anytime," he replies, and then, with a teasing lilt, "But seriously—you should probably tell him soon. I can't stand watching him mope around like a sad, abandoned puppy. It's seriously tragic, like, to the point where I’m gonna have to start letting him win at Mario Kart."

A small giggle escapes you, light and genuine for the first time in three days, "I know, I know. Eventually."

"Y/N," his voice turns playfully stern, like a parent lecturing their toddler. "Eventually isn't a time. Just call him. You've been thinking about him nonstop, haven't you?"

Unfortunately, Jungwon knows you too well. Your silent response betrays you, and Jungwon lets out a triumphant hum.

"Thought so. Well, you should go. You have a call to make."

You sigh, a mix of nerves and a new determination bubbling, "Okay, okay. But if this goes horribly wrong, I'm blaming you."

"It won't. But deal," his tone is reassuring, confident, like he already knows how this story ends. "You got this, Y/N."

The call ends, and the quiet still of your room taunts you. For a moment, you sit there, staring at your phone, the little icon of Jake's contact picture—a selfie the two of you took together many years ago—staring back at you like a challenge.

Your fingers hover. Your heart races, your palms feel clammy, and your stomach twists.

But then you remember Jungwon's words.

You deserve this.

And so does Jake.

You take a deep breath, then you press down on his name.

The phone doesn't even reach the second ring before he picks up.

"Y/N," Jake’s voice is rushed, a little breathless.

"Hey," you say softly, suddenly unsure where to start. "Um, were you busy?"

"No, no," he quickly responds. "Not at all. You could call me at 3AM, and I still would’ve picked up."

"That's unhealthy, you know," your lips twitch as you lay back in your bed, taking a deep inhale. You missed this—you missed him.

"For you? Worth it," you can hear the smile in his voice, but along with the slight tension just beneath it—the faintest tremor that tells you he's been waiting for this call, maybe agonizing over it just as much as you have.

You swallow hard, gripping the phone tight, "Jake, about...our last call..."

"Take your time," he says gently, though you don't miss the way his voice wavers ever so slightly. "I mean it, Y/N. There's no pressure."

You exhale shakily, closing your eyes, “I’ve been thinking a lot, too. About you. About…us.”

Jake stays silent, but you could hear the faint sound of him shifting, like he was bracing himself.

You squeeze your eyes hard, as you let the words finally come out, "I like you too, Jake. A lot. So much, honestly. It's just..."

"It's just...?" Jake's voice repeats softly, as if that's all he can manage to let out in the midst of his nervousness.

You hold your breath, scared of what you're about to admit—to Jake and to yourself.

"It's just...I'm scared," your voice comes out barely above a whisper, "I'm scared that this is too good to be true. That you're saying all of this because...I don't know—you're trying to move on...from the past, or because you're lonely on tour, or—"

"Y/N,” Jake's voice cuts through firm, but gentle.

"You're not…a rebound, or a distraction, or anything like that," he starts quietly, each word deliberate. "And this isn't about...Jenn, or me being lonely, or whatever else you think. This is about you."

Your breath hitches as you take in his words and open your eyes, hoping that staring at the ceiling above you could somehow ground you.

“You’re the one who makes me laugh when I’ve had the worst day,” Jake continues. “You’re the one I want to talk to, even when I’m running on zero sleep. You’re the one I think about when I’m on stage and wish I could just look into the crowd and see you there. It’s you, Y/N."

His words are overwhelming, too much, and you're unsure how to even process them. Your throat tightens, and you can feel the subconscious tears prickling at the corners of your eyes without even realizing they were forming.

"Are you sure, Jake?"

"More than anything else, Y/N," he says immediately, like the words have been waiting on the tip of his tongue. "And I want to do this right, Y/N. No rushing, no expectations. Just...tell me what you need from me, and I'll do it. Whatever it takes, I'll do it."

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You can picture him on the other side of the line, sitting in some unfamiliar hotel room, his brows probably furrowed in that adorable way they always do whenever he tries to find the right words.

You bite your lip, a small laugh escaping despite the tears sliding down your cheeks, “You’re so cheesy, you know that?”

Jake lets out a small laugh, immediately easing from the tension that hung in the air.

"Only for you," he mumbles, his voice soft but steady.

You sigh, the sound reaching Jake on the other side. There's a pause, a moment of mutual understanding in silence, just listening to the quiet, peaceful hum of each other's breathing.

“Jake?” You say finally, your voice trembling.

“Yeah?”

“I think…” You take a deep breath, and you think your heart is about to break out of your chest. “I think I want to try too.”

The silence on the other end was electric, and for a moment, you think maybe the call dropped. Then, you hear the unmistakable sound of Jake’s laugh—soft, relieved, and filled with so much warmth that it instantly makes your own heart feel lighter.

“You're driving me crazy, Y/N,” he says, his voice almost breathless, but tinged with humor.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, a smile clear in his tone.

“I hope I am,” you quip, and it makes him chuckle, the sound warm and full of relief. “Guess I’m stuck with your cheesy lines now huh?”

“Stuck with me?” Jake repeats, pretending to sound offended. “No way. I’m stuck with you, Y/N. And trust me, I’m not going anywhere.”

His words are so simple, yet so full of promise, and it leaves you feeling a little breathless.

“Good,” you whisper, your cheeks warm. “Because I don’t want you to.”

“Hi Jake,” your voice bright as you immediately pick up his call and see his face appear on the screen, his expression softening when he sees you.

“Hey pretty,” he replies, without missing a beat, his voice laced with a soft fondness that never fails to make your stomach flip.

You roll your eyes, failing miserably to hide the blush rising to your cheeks, “Oh, so now I’m pretty, huh?”

Jake smirks at your words, leaning closer to his phone, “Nah, you’ve always been pretty. Just didn’t have the guts to say it to your face before.”

You groan, dramatically planting your face into your pillow as an attempt to bury the smile on your face, your voice muffled, “You’re gonna be the death of me, Jake.”

“Stop that, don’t hide. Let me see your face,” his tone dips somewhere between playful and pleading, and you give in, lifting your head just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your red cheeks.

“Cute,” he says with a knowing grin, leaning back against the headboard of his bed.

“Whatever,” you murmur, but the smile on your face remains. “How was your day today?”

“Mmm, it was good,” Jake says, running a hand through his messy hair. “Busy, but good. I forget how loud the fans get each time. But it’s nice. Makes it feel worth it, you know?”

“I’m glad,” your smile grows as you watch him speak, feeling nothing but proud of him. “You deserve all of it, Jake.”

“Stop,” now he’s groaning, throwing a hand over his face to cover his shy expression. “You’re going to make me blush.”

“Mm, looks like you already are, Jakey,” you shake your head, laughing softly.

“Maybe a little,” he admits as he peeks at you through his fingers, his grin boyish and infectious, and you can’t help but laugh again.

The call falls quiet for a moment, but it’s not awkward—just comfortable, like a shared breath. Jake shifts, turning on his stomach and propping his phone up against some pillows to make sure you can still see him.

“I miss you,” he says suddenly, and there’s something raw in his tone, something unguarded that catches you off guard.

Your heart stutters.

“Jake, I literally called you this morning,” you tease, your tone light and sweet. But still, you can’t resist, “I miss you too.”

“You don’t sound convincing enough,” his eyes narrow at you, the pout forming on his lips quickly turning into a small smirk. “Say it like you mean it.”

“Fine,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “I miss you so, so much Sim Jaeyun, that it’s physically painful and I might conbust on the spot if I don’t see you soon. Happy?”

“Very,” he grins into the camera, making your heart beat faster. Ugh. "But please don't combust for me. Who else am I supposed to call every day?"

"Oh, please, you'd survive," you shoot back, smirking. "I'm sure anyone else would be more than happy to fill the spot."

Jake clicks his tongue, shaking his head dramatically. "Nope, no one could keep with you, Y/N. You're a handful."

"Excuse me?" You scoff, mock offense all over your face. "You're calling me a handful? Jake, who's the one that texts me random song lyrics at 3AM and expects me to interpret their deep meaning like it's poetry?"

"Okay, first of all, they are deep," he argues, his grin widening into something boyish and utterly unfair. "And second of all, I know you secretly love it."

You let out a laugh as you roll onto your side, propping your phone against the pillow next to you.

"Maybe I do," you admit with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant despite the smile on your face. "Or maybe I don't. That's up to you to find out."

Jake shakes his head, laughing softly, his eyes twinkling as they linger on your face.

"You really are a handful, Y/N," his voice teases while his eyes remain on you through the screen, as if studying you, and it makes your stomach flip.

You glance away, suddenly feeling shy again under his unwavering gaze, "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" His voice is innocent, his eyebrows lifting in feign obliviousness.

"I don't know—like you're trying to memorize my face or something," you mutter, your cheeks burning.

"Maybe I am," his voice dips, low and soft. "Honestly wouldn't complain if that's the last thing I ever got to remember."

His words hit you square in the chest, and despite how ridiculously corny they are, they manage to take your breath away. You don't know if you'll ever get used to this newly discovered side of Jake—the one that speaks so candidly, so sweetly—like you're the only person in his universe.

But honestly? You love it. You love how he makes you feel, how his words wrap around you perfectly like they were tailor made just for you. But as much as you love it, you fear it too.

Because the more you fall into this feeling, the more you wonder if there's anything solid beneath it. Despite all the soft words shared and sweet nothings exchanged, at the end of the day, deep down inside you can't help but ask yourself if his words, if he, is even yours to begin with.

"Jake..."

"Hmm?" His voice is gentle now, the teasing edge in his voice fading.

"You really mean it, don't you?" You ask, your voice quieter now, the question laced with your vulnerability. "You're serious about...this? About us?"

"Of course I am," he answers without hesitation. His soft eyes stay trained on you as he sits up in his spot in bed, as if to show just how serious he is. He lets out an exhale, as if mentally encouraging himself to continue, "I know we're not...whatever this is, officially yet. But I do know that I like what we have."

He brings his phone closer, a small smile on his face, his expression earnest, "And that I like you. A lot."

You swallow hard, his words settling in your chest in the best way possible. Because despite everything—the doubts, the undefined boundaries—you can't deny the truth of how you feel.

"Me too," you admit, your voice steady and honest. "I like what we have too. And I like you."

You pause, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you feel the remainders of your walls crumbling down, "You make me happy, Jake. Like annoyingly happy."

"Good. Because you make me happy too," His smile spreads wide, the kind that is contagious and could light up an entire room. "Annoyingly happy, if we're being specific."

You roll your eyes again, though you're smiling just as much, "We really are insufferable, aren't we?"

"Oh, completely," Jake nods, his tone playful. He's more relaxed, back to leaning against his headboard as he looks at you with a softened gaze. "We'll figure it out, Y/N. I promise. Whatever this is, or whatever it becomes, I'm not going anywhere. And honestly? I just can't wait to see you. Finally."

"Me too," you perk up, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you bring your phone closer, "It feels like it's been forever. This tour feels so much longer than the other ones for some reason."

"It does," Jake hums in agreement, his eyes thoughtful. "But you know what? I think It's because, this time...I actually have something waiting for me. Something—or someone—I want to come home to. And that makes every day feel so much longer."

You think, at this point, you should check yourself into the emergency department for the sheer amount of times you thought your heart was going to pound out of your body from Jake's words alone.

“You're ridiculous," you laugh, the sound bubbling out so naturally you couldn't hold it back even if you tried. "It's getting kind of out of hand how cheesy you are, Jake."

"And yet," he fires back with a smirk, "you love it. Admit it. I've cracked the code."

"Maybe I do," you tease, repeating your words from earlier as the corners of your mouth tug up into a smile you can't suppress. "But don't let it get to your head."

"Too late," he grins. "It's already there."

Jake [2:15AM] : can I call you? Y/N [2:16AM]: jake isnt it like 2AM for you? Jake [2:16AM]: well…yea but I was thinking about you so…

Your feet are kicking before you even realize, and before you can type up a response, your phone lights up with Jake's name and contact picture.

“Hi,” you answer softly, trying not to let the giddy smile growing on your face take over.

“Hey pretty,” he greets, voice warm and easy as he brings a hand through his messy hair. The lights in his room are off, and the dim glow of his phone screen casts a soft light over his features, making him look unfairly good for someone who should be fast asleep.

“You have two seconds to give me a good reason why you’re here talking to me instead of getting a good night’s rest before your concert tomorrow,” your eyes narrow in mock disapproval as you give him a knowing look.

Jake laughs lightly, “Hey! Okay, hear me out. I couldn’t sleep, so I did something.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You did something? That sounds ominous, I’m scared.”

“Yeah. For you,” he states plainly, leaving you even more confused for a second more before he continues. “I made you a playlist.”

Your brain stalls at how simple he says it—so casual, as if not packed with so much meaning.

“A playlist? You—wait, why?”

Jake shrugs, “I don’t know—I guess I just wanted you to hear what I hear when I think about you. Which, by the way, is a lot. So..”

You blink at the screen, your mouth slightly agape at the boy who's watching you with that lopsided grin that makes it practically impossible to function. You scramble to collect yourself, but the more you try, the worse it gets, and by now, you think he definitely took some secret class on how-to-make-Y/N-completely-flustered.

And aced it.

And of course, he notices—because Jake always notices.

“You okay there?” His voice breaks you out of your overwhelming thoughts, his teasing tone laced with curiosity.

“Define okay,” you mutter, rubbing a hand over your face in an attempt to cool down the warmth spreading like wildfire across your cheeks. “Because if it means not feeling like a complete fool over a guy who’s halfway across the world, then no, I’m absolutely not okay.”

Jake lets out a low laugh, the sound affectionate as he leans closer to the camera, the light reflecting off his shining eyes, “If it helps, you’re not the only one losing your mind here.”

“Oh yeah?” you arch an eyebrow, “What’s your excuse, Sim?”

“My excuse?” He tilts his head with a small, exaggerated frown, pretending to think. “Hmm…let’s see…I’m hopelessly into this girl who somehow makes being teased fun, who makes me smile just by hearing my name come out her mouth, and who—“

“Okay! Stop, stop, enough,” your voice strangled as you try to talk through the fit of giggles you couldn’t hold down. “You’re gonna kill me, Jake. Like, actually. I’m not strong enough for this.”

Jake laughs at your flustered reaction, holding up a hand of surrender, “Fine, fine. But seriously, look.”

You hear the sound of faint typing in the background before your phone buzzes with a text containing a link.

“It’s called Songs That Remind Me of Y/N. Creative, right?”

You open the link, and your thoughts are dazed at the sight of the endless playlist of songs. Some new to you, some you recognize—all of them feeling like little pieces of Jake's heart he's handing to you.

"I think it's perfect," you murmur softly, scrolling through the titles, the warmth and appreciation for him now feeling almost too overwhelming.

"Yeah?" Jake's eyes shine with a mixture of pride and hope as he watches your reaction.

"Yeah," you repeat, switching your phone screen back to his face and giving him a genuine smile. "I love it. Thank you, Jake."

Jake hums in response, the look on his eyes gentle as a beat of comfortable silence falls between you two.

"Well, I should probably sleep for real now, but...listen to it when you miss me, okay? Because chances are, I'm probably doing the same."

You pause, letting the weight of his words settle over you—vulnerable, yet undoubtedly honest. "Deal. I'll listen to it right now, then."

"Good," his smile grows, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Because I am too. I miss you, too."

You both linger for a moment, neither wanting to end the call just yet, simply enjoying each other's pure, raw presence.

"Sweet dreams, Jake," you finally say, your voice gentle as you slowly let sleep take over.

"Only if they’re about you," he quips, grinning.

You roll your eyes, your chest feeling lighter, "Go to bed, Sim."

"Yes, ma'am," he winks, and with one last fond look, he ends the call, leaving you smiling at your screen like the absolute fool he's turned you into.

"I can't believe you're finally coming back tomorrow," you murmur into the phone, your voice soft but buzzing with excitement as you take in the sight of Jake sprawled out on his bed. The dim glow of his phone highlights just enough of his face to remind you how impossibly cute he is—even with the pillow creases on his cheek.

"I know," Jake sighs dramatically, flopping onto his side. His head sinks into the pillow, and you hear a soft fwump as he shifts to find a comfortable spot. "I just wish I wasn't landing so late. If I could, I'd come see you the second I land. Like, bags in hand, running to your door."

"You'd probably trip and knock yourself out with your carry-on, Jake," you snort but then smile, the imagine of Jake rushing to get to you playing in your head.

"First of all, I'm very athletic," Jake raises an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Second, that's exactly what would happen, but at least I'd be unconscious on your doorstep, which is still closer to you than I've been in months."

Your heart does a little flip at the sound of the sincerity in his voice as you try to keep your tone casual, "It's okay, Jake. I'm not going anywhere. We'll see each other the next day? If you're free, maybe."

Jake's face softens in that stupidly adorable way he always does when he knows you're just trying to play it cool. "Free or not, I'll find a way. Nothing's stopping me from seeing you, Y/N. Not jet lag, not my schedule, not even my manager if he tries to barricade me in the building."

A giggle escapes you, partly at his sheer determination and partly to cover up the butterflies constantly causing the havoc in your stomach when it comes to him. And Jake, of course, looks all smug, like he knows exactly what he's doing to you. Typical Jake—sweet, determined, and impossibly endearing.

But as much as his words make your cheeks warm, there's another reason why you're holding back your smile.

Because, despite what Jake thinks, you're going to see him much sooner than he expects. All thanks to a message you got earlier from the group's manager:

Y/N! Hope you’re doing well! We all miss you and can’t wait to see you soon! As you know, the boys are returning tomorrow late at night, but the staff and I want to plan a little surprise party at their apartment, they have no idea. The team’s already prepping everything. We’d love for you to come—it wouldn’t be the same without you. 10 PM! See you!

You're practically vibrating with excitement, each passing minute on the call with Jake making it harder and harder to not just blurt it out and tell him you'll be seeing him in less than 24 hours. And, somehow, hearing his sleepy voice on the other side of the call, completely oblivious, just makes it even harder to contain yourself.

Jake's brows furrow as he watches you try (and fail) to suppress your grin, "What's up with you? You're smiling so much, and I'm pretty sure I didn't say anything that funny."

"Me?" You blink innocently, even though your heart skips a beat. But you shrug casually, masking your smile with a feigned yawn. "Nothing's up, you've just been acting too cute tonight. That's all."

"You're lucky you're cute," Jake narrows his eyes at you, but even you can see through the dim lighting the red creeping across his face, "And that I'm tired. Or else I'd call you out for how you're gaslighting me right now."

"Gaslighting?!" You sputter out, breaking out into laughter. "How am I gaslighting you for calling you cute?"

"Because I know you're hiding something—" Jake replies, his pout audible in the way his voice drags. He yawns mid-sentence, the soft sound and the image of his eyes fluttering closed making your heart melt. "—and you're using my sleep-deprived state against me. It's not fair."

"I'm not hiding anything!" You protest, your face one second away from cracking into a guilty smile. "Go to sleep—you're barely holding it together over there."

"Like I'd ever fall asleep on you," he mutters, his voice heavy with drowsiness. "You're way too important for that."

His words hit you like a train, and you have to physically restrain yourself from squealing, burying your face in your pillow before you let out a strangled, "Okay, enough sap for one night, Romeo. Go to bed."

"Mmhm, fine, fine," Jake hums before he yawns again. "Goodnight, pretty. Dream sweet dreams, okay?"

You let out a breath, losing the last remaining bits of your composure at this point—but in the best way possible, of course.

"Goodnight, Jakey. I'll see you soon."

The day flies by in a whirlwind of anticipation and sheer chaos, the emotional hurricane brewing up inside you rooting from one source and one source only.

Because ever since you woke up this morning, every step, every sight, every breath was haunted by one inescapable thought:

Jake.

The morning was a blur of pacing around your room like a Sims character who was glitching after being told to "Go Here", overthinking every possible scenario for how tonight—when you finally see Jake in person—could go down.

Because, really—how exactly do you approach the boy you've been friends with for years, who you've fallen for, in a room filled with people, including yours and his closest friends, all while pretending your heart is trying its hardest to not control, alt, delete itself?

Not exactly something you can Google.

Like, do you hug him? Does he hug you? What if he doesn't hug you? (Unacceptable, you decide, before pacing faster.)

By the time afternoon rolls around, you're about 78% sure you've developed three-and-a-half migraines from the sheer pressure of it all. Not to mention, the borderline illegal amount of caffeine coursing through your veins isn't helping—why did you think drinking four cups of coffee was a good idea? (You didn't. Your brain has officially gone rogue.)

And now, here you are. The buzzing apartment of the boys is alive with the sounds of laughter, the crinkle of party streamers being hung up, and two staff members arguing about where to put the over-dramatically large "WELCOME HOME" banner. You, along with everyone else, await for the signal, passing time by keeping up small conversation with the friends and staff you've gotten to know over the years—all the while you desperately try to keep your nerves from causing a mental crash out right here and now.

Eventually, one of the staff gets the alert that the group has landed and is minutes away, the energy immediately shifting, both in the apartment and mentally. You settle in place in the back of the crowd, near the door but not too near the door—because 1) you're 99.99% sure you're not emotionally stable enough to be front and center, and 2) the staff and camera crew are already hogging the entrance as if this was the world's greatest comeback (and spoiler alert—to you, it really is.)

The lights dim, the chatter fades, and the room hums with anticipation. And meanwhile? Your heart won't. Stop. Pounding.

Any second now.

Your nerves bubble up even more than you thought is humanly healthy, and you're not sure if you're about to a) pass out, b) puke, c) or both.

Simultaneously.

The sound of multiple footsteps echoes faintly in the hallway, followed with muffled voices—one of them the unmistakable sound of Jake's laughter. Your breath catches.

And then the door swings open.

"SURPRISE!"

The boys freeze in the doorway, their suitcases still in hand, the looks of genuine, yet pleasant, confusion plastered on all their faces. Sunghoon's eyes dart to the snacks table, Jay looks like he's deciding whether to laugh or roll his eyes, Sunoo is on the verge of tears, and Jake—Jake looks beautifully, stupidly confused.

Your eyes immediately find Jake's face, like some natural gravitational pull you can't fight, and suddenly it hits you: he's here. In front of you. No blurry video calls, no glitchy Wi-Fi interruptions—just Jake.

It feels surreal, like you're living in a sugar-induced dream that you aren't sure of is real yet or not. Last time you saw him in person, he was merely just Jake, one of your best friends, your go-to guy for bad jokes and late-night rants about life. But now? Now he's Jake—the boy who's somehow become the main character of your life (and brain capacity) over the past five months.

Every memory of your late-night calls, every teasing smile, every time his sweet, groggy voice promised he'd prove himself to you—it all comes rushing back. Like those cheesy montage scenes in a rom-com, except instead of a whimsical romantic song playing in the background, it's the sound of your brain, and heart, screaming WHAT NOW Y/N?!

But then, finally, his eyes land on you.

The moment your eyes meet, you think your lungs give up on life. Breathing? Never heard of it. It's like someone hit the pause button on the entire universe, and you're convinced that the only thing to ever exist is Jake looking at you with that soft, unreadable expression.

But you manage half a second of calm—half a second—before that softness on his face disappears. Just as quickly as it appeared, it's replaced by...something else. Something you can't quite put your finger on. Something you've never thought could exist on his face. A flicker of...conflict? Hesitation? Like he's staring straight at you…but also from miles away at the same time.

His jaw tightens slightly—so slightly only you would notice with how intently you're looking at him—and for a split second, his hands fidgets at his side before he quickly clasps it over the handle of his suitcase. And right as you process it, right as you're about to convince yourself it's just the million grams of caffeine rushing through your blood that's making you hallucinate and see things—

He looks away.

He looks away. As if you're not even standing there, as if he didn't just short-circuit your entire brain. His attention shifts to the nearest staff member, greeting them with a quick nod, and suddenly he's smiling and laughing at something they're saying like nothing just happened.

And just like that, the universe hits the play button again, and you're left standing there—staring, blinking, wondering if the last thirty seconds of your life was, indeed, a caffeine-induced hallucination after all. Surely. Right?

Because Jake definitely didn't avoid you on purpose. Nope. Because that would be insane. Insane, you think to yourself, as the invisible angel on your shoulder continues to whisper into your ear the same sweet words Jake's been telling you the past five months about how much he cares for you, how much he likes you—remember all those times he said it?

Right. Right. Of course, he does. But still, you stand there frozen, trying to ground yourself, even though your hands start fidgeting at your sides anyway. Great. Fantastic. Cool, cool, cool. This is fine.

You mentally curse yourself for not being closer to the door after all, and then, you mentally curse every single person in this room for not magically gaining telepathic powers and knowing that you, personally, were trying to have a moment.

It's fine. You'll find him again. He's just too preoccupied with all the staff members and people to greet. Busy Jake. Social Jake. You're just imagining things. Definitely.

Trying to distract yourself, you glance around the apartment, everything suddenly feeling suffocating. Maybe a snack. Maybe a drink. Maybe a portal to another dimension.

Shaking your head out of your spiraling thoughts, you bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself and turn away from the crowd, quickly settling yourself near the beverage table, pouring yourself a cup of...whatever this is—your mind too cloudy to even bother looking at the sign on the table.

You don't know how much time passes, and frankly, you don't even know if you're fully conscious. Your mind is still living in the past, lingering in that moment where you locked eyes with Jake for the first time in five months, and despite all the overthinking you did this morning of all the possible scenarios that could happen—this was not one of them.

You're about to pour yourself a second drink just to keep your thoughts busy when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

"Y/N!"

Before you can fully turn around, you're engulfed in a warm hug, the familiar scent of Jungwon's cologne immediately grounding you, "Oh god, I missed you. Took me forever to find you with all these people."

"Jungwon!" You exclaim, a genuine smile lighting up your face despite the emotional tug-of-war in your chest, because, of course, leave it to your best friend to immediately ease your inner panic. You squeeze him back, playfully ruffling his hair as you pull away, "I can't believe they made you grow out your hair. Now you actually look older than me for once."

He stares at you, blinking. "Y/N. I am older than you."

"Literally by a week. We all know I'm mentally older," you deadpan, crossing your arms.

"Okay, I take it back. I didn't miss you after all," he scoffs as you laugh, pulling him into another hug for good measure just to annoy him.

"I'm so glad you guys are back," you say as Jungwon grabs the drink in your hand and takes a sip himself as he listens to you. "I was dying of boredom without you guys."

Jungwon raises an eyebrow, "Uh-huh. Definitely didn't sound like boredom all those nights you called Jake at 2AM."

You freeze. Oh. Great. The one topic you were trying to avoid (how you were going to avoid it—given you're at his literal apartment, with his literal group members, and literal staff members that all work for him—you're not sure. Avoidance was a doomed plan from the start, I fear).

But before you could answer, Jungwon continues, "So...are you guys, like, a thing now? I know you guys were just talking this whole time, but now that we're back, are you guys gonna be in a relationship and all that stuff? Because if so, I need a heads-up. As much I love you both, I don't know if I can stand you two being all couple-y right in front of me—oh, and also—"

"Jungwon."

"—if he hurts you in any way, I swear to god I will not hesitate to—"

"Jungwon!"

He stops, wide-eyed, before flashing you a sheepish smile. "Sorry. But seriously, what's happening? You haven't given me any updates!"

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. Because if he had asked you yesterday—or even an hour ago—you would've been able to answer confidently. But now? After Jake's apparent Olympic-level avoidance of you? You're not so sure anymore.

"I...I don't know," you mumble, the words barely audible. Jungwon tilts his head, leaning closer to catch them.

"What do you mean, you don't know? You guys haven't talked about it?" His brows furrowing as he studies your face, clearly picking up on your hesitation in true best friend fashion.

"I, uh, I haven't...seen him yet," you admit, hoping the crack in your voice doesn't reveal the real reason you haven't approached the boy in question. "Everyone's busy, and I didn't want to get in the way."

Jungwon gives you a look like you just said the earth is flat.

"Get in the way? Y/N, you're insane. This is the guy who's been counting down the days to see you. If anything, everyone else is in his way."

You give him a helpless shrug, but Jungwon isn't having it. He grabs your shoulders and spins you around, pointing across the room to one of the other snack tables past the crowds of people.

"Look. He's right there. Alone. Perfectly free to talk to you. Go."

Your eyes land on Jake, back facing you and Jungwon, casually scooping chips into a bowl. You hesitate, scanning his relaxed posture, and the knot in your stomach tightens. Because that's exactly the problem. He's perfectly free. And if he's so excited to see you, how come he hasn't spoken to you yet?

But before you can voice your doubts, Jungwon gives you a not-so-gentle nudge forward, "Go talk to him before I carry you over there myself."

And next thing you know, Jake's right there. In front of you. His back is to you still, his eyes scanning the various snacks lined on the table, completely unaware of the full-on mental breakdown occurring just behind him.

This is your moment, you tell yourself, despite the endless alarms going off in your brain. Every single nerve in your body is on high alert, screaming at you to abort mission, abort! But before you can give in to your panic, your hand is already reaching out, lightly tapping his shoulder.

"Jake!"

Jake turns around, and for a moment—a fleeting, fragile moment—you catch it. The way his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you. The way his lips part as if they're about to break into that familiar smile you've missed for months. But just as quickly, similar to earlier, it vanishes, replaced by that flicker of hesitation, and it's enough to make your breath catch.

"Y/N."

Your name on his lips used to sound like a warm promise. Now?

Now it feels like an afterthought.

His voice is calm, steady—too steady, stripped of every ounce of emotion, and not at all like someone who's been counting down the days to see you. He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to the crowd behind you before reluctantly meeting yours, "It's been so long."

Your stomach sinks. That's all he had to say? You were completely wrong. You spent precisely 23 minutes of your morning debating if he was even going to give you a hug—but now? Screw the hug, he won't even give you a full sentence. Something's off, and your mind races to figure out what happened, as if you missed a major chapter of your own life.

Trying to ignore the sharp pang of something lodging itself in your chest, you offer a small smile, hoping to break the tension.

"Are you...okay? I thought...I don't know, I thought you'd be more excited to see me," the words spill out before you can stop them, and you want to crawl into a self-dug hole from how raw and vulnerable you feel.

Jake shifts uncomfortably, glancing at the floor, then at you, "No, yeah, of course I am. I'm just...really tired. The flight, you know. And all this," he pauses to gesture at the environment around you two, "it's a lot."

You stare at him in disbelief, waiting for him to crack—silently begging for some sign of the Jake you thought you knew. But all you get is a shrug.

A shrug.

Suddenly, his words feel like a punch to the gut, let alone the way he can't even fully look you in the eyes. In just those few seconds, the invisible angel on your shoulder—whose voice sounded just like Jake's—whispering those promises into your ears suddenly disappeared with no trace in sight, as if it was never there—as if it was never yours—in the first place. Every late-night call, every whispered promise, every shared laugh.

As if they never belonged to you.

You swallow hard, trying to keep the growing lump in your throat from choking you, hoping your emotional turmoil isn't blatantly obvious to the boy in front of you.

"Right," you murmur, nodding as if his excuse makes perfect sense. But it doesn't. "That's...understandable."

The silence that follows is suffocating. Not the comfortable kind of warm silence you two used to share, but the awkward, unbearable kind that makes you claw at your own skin and makes you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole right then and there.

Jake shifts again, and for a moment, his eyes meet yours. There's something there—but before you can grasp it, a voice from the crowd calls his name.

"I—I should go," he mutters quickly, stepping back. His voice is quiet, his tone almost apologetic, but his words feel like he's hammering the nails to your coffin. "I'll...see you later though, yeah?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. He's gone before you can say anything, before you can process his words, and for the second time that night, he leaves you standing there with your heart in pieces and your thoughts in chaos.

For a moment, you swear you're paralyzed. You can't move. Can't breathe. Your vision blurs as every doubt you'd buried for months comes rushing back, screaming in your face louder and crueler than ever. You've never felt smaller, more foolish.

Your heart beats erratically now, fighting against the realization of the truth settling in your chest—a heaviness so suffocating it threatens to take you under. The Jake who stood in front of you just now—guarded, distant, a stranger—was so unlike the boy who had made you laugh until your sides ached, who'd stayed up with you on countless late nights, sharing secrets no one else knew.

The Jake who made promises.

Your mind spirals. Maybe...maybe those promises were never meant to be kept. Maybe they were just words to fill the time.

Maybe you were just someone to fill the time.

Your breath starts to pick up and you're frantically scanning the room, desperate for an escape from your thoughts through any familiar face. Your eyes finally land on Ni-ki and Heeseung casually sitting on one of the couches, their carefree laughter a stark contrast to your inner implosion. You beeline to them, forcing a smile on your face as you plop down beside them.

"Y/N!" Ni-ki grins the moment he spots you, scooting over to make room. "Where've you been hiding? Thought you ditched us for good."

"I've been here,“ you give the boys a small smile, praying they don't notice the way your hands tremble as you sit down, “just...mingling."

Heeseung raises an eyebrow at the faint crack in your voice, but doesn't push further, "Well, we all missed you. Pizza pig-out sesh and games tomorrow? You can tell us everything we've been missing out on."

You laugh, trying to keep the conversation light, but it comes out shaky, your voice tight under the weight of your hidden emotions, "I think it's you guys who need to catch me up."

Ni-ki tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you, "Are you okay? You look...off. What—did someone spill punch on you? Lemme guess, was it Jake?"

At his name, the knife in your stomach twists even deeper, and you look away, hoping they don't notice the way your face falls.

But Heeseung notices. Of course. His gaze sharpens, the playful teasing in his expression replaced with a softened concern, "Y/N...what's going on?"

"I'm fine," you reply a little too quickly, your voice a little too high. You plaster a smile on your face, turning back towards the two boys, concern written all over their faces. "Just tired. Long day."

Neither of them look convinced, but before Heeseung can say anything else, Ni-ki nudges him and gestures towards something across the room.

"Hey...isn't that—"

You follow Ni-ki's gaze, and you immediately wish you didn't.

Because just like that, your world crumbles.

There she is—Jenn.

You're not even wondering when she got here, how she got here, or even why she's here in the first place. No, not even.

Because all that's occupying your mind right now is the way she's there, perched comfortably on Jake's lap on one of the couches in the distance, her arm draped casually over his shoulder.

The way she's laughing freely at something he says, her hand lightly brushing against his as if it's second nature, her fingers briefly pushing a strand of hair away from his face.

The way Jake doesn't even flinch, the way he doesn't pull away.

The way he smiles at her.

That same smile—the one you've spent weeks convincing yourself was yours—now feels like a cruel joke.

And that does it. For the first time that night, despite all you endured, you shatter.

You force yourself to look away, but it's too late. Your chest hollows out deeper and deeper with every passing second, until all you're left with is a final realization:

Maybe you never really had him at all. He was never yours in the first place.

Ni-ki and Heeseung exchange glances before looking at the expression on your face—all the color drained, as if you were merely just a body, paralyzed. Both of them open their mouths, but nothing comes out, clearly unsure of what to say, but you don't give them the chance. You're already standing, grabbing your bag at your side with trembling hands.

"Y/N, wait—" Heeseung starts as both him and Ni-ki stand up with you, but you shake your head, his voice distant and muffled as if he's speaking to you underwater.

"I need some air," you mumble, but you're sure neither of them hear you, your voice barely above a whisper.

Before they can stop you, you're already weaving through the crowd, your vision blurring as you fight the overwhelming urge to break down. You stop at the door, your eyes quickly scanning the cluttered floor for your shoes. For a moment, you think you've made it—escaped the suffocating air and heartbreak clawing at your throat—but a mistake you didn't mean to make stills you.

You glance over your shoulder, and there he is.

Jake's eyes meet yours, and the world comes to a stop. His easy smile slips from his face and is immediately replaced by a flicker of panic, his brows drawing together as if he's just realized something, but you don't stick around to analyze it.

Not when your heart is already in pieces on the floor.

You quickly look the opposite way, fighting the sting of burning tears threatening to spill over as your fingers fumble desperately with the zipper of your coat when you hear a concerned voice from behind you.

"Y/N?" Jungwon's familiar voice cuts through your haze, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "What—where are you going?"

"Home," you whisper, avoiding his gaze as you finally manage to get your coat on, turning towards the door.

Suddenly, Jungwon steps in front of you, a firm frown on his face, "Hey, hey, what's wrong? Talk to me—"

"Jungwon, I need to go," you look up at him as your voice cracks for the nth time that night, feeling Jake's set of eyes on you still, "Please, Won."

He hesitates, clearly confused but more worried over anything else, "Okay, but I'm driving you."

You sigh, shaking your head, "No, it's fine—"

"I'm driving you," Jungwon repeats, leaving no room for argument as he's already grabbing his coat and walking out the door.

Not bothering to look behind you to see if Jake's still watching, you follow Jungwon out to the hallway, the chill of the air feeling like a fresh wave of emotions crashing over you all at once: embarrassment, anger, heartbreak.

You're too caught up in your spinning thoughts to even notice the sound of frantic footsteps behind you until a voice cuts through the silence.

"Y/N."

His voice is quiet, almost drowned out by the muffled hum of music and laughter seeping from the party you should've escaped from a long time ago.

But still, you hear it anyway—because of course you do. Because it's him. And no matter how much you wish you didn't, you'd silence the entire world just to hear that voice.

And you hate it.

You hate how your entire body freezes mid-step, you hate how every nerve within you comes alive at the sound of his voice, you hate how your heart stumbles, as if trying to root itself in the pain you've been trying so hard to outrun.

You turn around slowly, against every ounce of logic telling you to keep walking. And when your eyes land on him—on the raw, desperate, almost broken look on his face—you hate yourself even more.

Because even now, even after everything, your heart still sinks at the sight. And you hate how you give him the power to break you with just one look.

“Can we talk?” Jake asks, his voice low and unsteady as he takes a small step towards you.

From beside you, Jungwon hesitates, his gaze flickering between you and Jake. After a beat, he nods, "I'll get the car. Wait here."

He spares Jake a final look of warning before nudging you for comfort and stepping into the elevator.

The elevator doors close, leaving you and Jake alone in the hallway, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions.

You swallow hard, your throat tight, but you steel yourself, "What do you want, Jake?"

You shift your weight and instinctively cross your arms, a defensive barrier between you and the boy you spent too long letting into your heart. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the vulnerability in them makes your resolve falter.

He takes a hesitant step towards you before exhaling shakily, running a hand through his hair.

“I—I messed up tonight. I didn’t mean to...," he trails off, his words fumbling, his eyes searching yours in desperation, his heart breaking at the way your tears are a second away from falling over.

"...to completely ignore me all night? Make me feel like nothing?" You finish for him, your quiet voice breaking despite your attempt to stay composed.

"No. God, no. You're not nothing," he says quickly, his voice faltering on the last word. "Y/N, you matter so much to me."

“Well it definitely didn't feel that way,” your voice is barely audible, but you finally look up at him, the hurt finally bubbling to the surface. “After everything you said—promised, everything we talked about…”

"I know, I just—" he hesitates, his voice barely above a whisper. He takes a tentative step closer, his movements slow and careful, like he's afraid you'll break if he gets too close. "I was nervous."

"It’s been so long, and I didn’t know what to say, how to act. I wanted to get it right—to make it perfect—but instead, I just—" he stops, dragging another frustrated hand through his hair. His eyebrows knit together in that familiar way that once made your heart flutter, but now only adds to the ache in your chest.

You let out a hollow laugh, the bitter sound foreign even to your own ears, “Well, congratulations, Jake. You managed to mess it up anyway.”

“Please,” he looks devastated, his hands trembling at his sides. “Y/N, please don’t think I don’t care about you. I do. More than you know. I just—I don't know how to do this. I panicked and I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear."

"Then why was...," you look at him, your eyes still stinging from all the unshed tears as you take a shaky breath, “...why was she all over you tonight? Why didn’t you stop her?”

He falters, his shoulders slumping under the weight of your question, “It wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t—I couldn’t—”

“You couldn’t,” you echo, the words spilling out in a rush now, each one cutting him deeper. “I should've known. Let me guess, she wants to get back together, right?"

Jake's silence is deafening, and it immediately answers your question. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. The way he looks at you—eyes wide and filled with regret, lips trembling as if searching for the right words—confirms everything you were afraid of.

You squeeze your eyes shut, a shaky breath escaping your lips—a sound caught somewhere between a scoff and a choked sob. No matter how hard you try, the wall holding back your emotions cracks under the weight of it all. The doubts you’ve tried so hard to bury suddenly resurface, crashing over you like waves, each one carrying the sting of every insecurity, every fear you’ve ever had about this moment. Your chest feels tight, your heart splintering under the realization that everything you were afraid of might be true.

"Jake, I can't do this," you whisper, shaking your head. "I can't be the person you lean on while you try to figure out what you want."

"No, no—Y/N, I do know what I want," he pleads, his voice cracking as he tries to step closer. "And it’s you. Always been you, Y/N. Everything I said—I meant it."

His words hang heavy in the air, the faint echo of the party music filtering through the cracks in the door and into the quiet hallway. You look away, refusing to let him see the way your tears finally spill over.

"You promised," you let out softly and slowly, through your sniffles. “You promised you wouldn't hurt me. You said you'd prove that I could trust you, that I didn't have to be scared. You knew I was worried, Jake. And you...you hurt me anyways."

"And I swear I meant every word I said. I still do," Jake says, his voice desperate as he shakes his head. He steps even closer, his hand reaching out and brushing against yours, but you pull back before he can close the distance. "You have to believe me. Please, Y/N. You're the only one."

You shake your head again, the tears now freely rushing down your cheeks despite your best efforts, "I—I don't know if I can believe that anymore, Jake. I want to, I really, really do. But tonight..."

Jake’s face falls, the weight of your pain crashing into him all at once. His lips tremble as he struggles to hold himself together, his eyes turning glassy themselves. The sight of you—broken, because of him—cuts deeper than he thought was humanly ever possible. His voice is barely above a whisper, raw and pleading, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I—God, please. Please give me a chance.”

You look at him—at the boy who became your safe space these past few months—and all you feel is the ache in your heart.

"I can't do this right now, Jake," you finally let out through your broken voice as you take a step back. "I think I just need space."

The words hang in the air like a death sentence. His breath hitches as if your words physically hit him in the face, "Y/N..."

Your phone suddenly buzzes, a text from Jungwon letting you know he's outside. You glance down at it, then back at Jake. For a moment, you hesitate, your heart screaming at you to stay—to give him the chance he's yearning for. But your brain knows better.

"I have to go," you murmur softly, as you take a final step back, turning away before more tears threaten to spill all over again. You force yourself to keep walking, fighting the overwhelming urge to look back—to let him pull you into his arms, where you wished so desperately you belonged.

Frozen, Jake watches helplessly as you walk away, his chest tightening with every step you take. Everything feels like it's caving in, regret clawing at him the more he lets you walk further away. He opens his mouth to say something—anything—but the words fail him, silenced by the weight of his own mistakes.

To Jake, the sounds of the party are now far in the distance, drowned out by the pounding in this ears. Instead, the hallway falls into a haunting silence, broken only by the faint echo of your retreating steps—a cruel reminder of what he's just let slip away.

The car ride starts in complete silence, the only sound between you and Jungwon the soft hum of his engine and the faint sound of whatever playlist he was playing in the background. You stare out the window, watching the city lights blur together, your coat clutched tightly under your grasp as if it's the only thing keeping you sane.

Jungwon glances at you out the corner of his eye, his hands steady on the steering wheel. He doesn't say anything at first, but you know him well enough to sense the storm brewing in his head.

"Okay," he finally says, as if on cue, breaking the silence. "Spill."

You don't respond, your eyes still fixed on the surrounding city breezing by you, as if the passing view could somehow erase the memory of him. Your fingers dig further into the fabric of your coat, your knuckles going numb.

Jungwon gives you a few more moments of silence, but when you don't make any sign of responding, he speaks up again.

"Y/N," his voice softens, but the edge of his concern cuts through. "Don't do that thing where you shut people out. Especially me, you know I hate that."

"I'm not—" you start, but your voice wavers, and the lie dies on the tip of your tongue.

“You are," he exhales sharply from beside you, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "Look, you don't have to tell me everything, but don't pretend you're fine when you're clearly not."

The words sit heavy in the air as you swallow hard, your throat burning as you finally whisper, "It's stupid, Jungwon."

He doesn't take his eyes off the road, but his tone is firm, "I'm sure if it's got you looking like this, it's not stupid."

You want to argue, to tell him to just let it go, but the hurt pressing down on your chest is too much. The ache in your body threatens to take over again, and you hate it. You hate how the tears form again, how you can still see Jake looking at you like that, like you were breaking right in front of him and he didn't know how to stop it.

Jungwon waits. He doesn't push, because he knows you. He knows you're just hurting, struggling to grasp your overwhelming emotions, so he gives you the time you need. But his quiet patience is unbearable, like he's peeling back every layer of your resolve just by being there, and eventually, you give in.

"It's Jake," you finally choke out, the name tumbling from your lips like a curse.

Jungwon doesn't respond immediately, but you can feel the shift in his demeanor. His jaw tightens, and his fingers flex against the wheel, "I figured as much honestly, after what I saw in the hallway, but what exactly happened, Y/N?"

You shake your head, your voice shaky, "It doesn't matter. I—I just feel so stupid, Won. Like, how could I think..."

You trail off, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood. Jungwon gives you a softened glance, signaling you to continue whenever you're ready to.

You take a deep breath before you speak up again, "How could I ever think I was good enough for him, you know?"

There's a silence that follows after your words and you hear Jungwon take in a deep inhale.

"This isn't on you, Y/N. This has nothing to do with whether you're enough or not," Jungwon's voice is steady, but there's a firm edge to it now. "Look, I don't want to overstep or anything...and I definitely don't want to vouch for him—especially right now but...are you sure he's not just freaking out?"

You tilt your head over at the boy next to you, "Freaking out about what?"

"You," Jungwon says simply like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"That doesn't make any sense," you start shaking your head. "Why would he—"

"Because you're you," Jungwon interrupts, his tone matter-of-fact as he keeps his eyes trained on the road in front of him. "And Jake's a complete idiot, but even idiots get scared when they care about someone as much as he clearly cares about you."

You blink, Jungwon's words sinking into all the cracks formed within you, "You really think he cares about me that much?"

“Are you kidding?” Jungwon scoffs, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Y/N, the guy looks at you like you hung his moon and stars. Trust me, I’ve seen it.”

And you don't know what comes over you, but Jungwon's words hit you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, the tears you've been holding back come rushing forward, hot and relentless. You cover your face with your hands, your body shaking as the sobs you've been swallowing all night finally make their way out.

Jungwon quickly looks over at you and, without hesitation, glances over his shoulder to pull over to the side of the road, the soft clicking of the hazard lights mixing in with your cries. When he finally puts the car in park, he doesn't say anything and just leans back in his seat, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder—close enough to remind you he's there, but not too much to smother you.

"I'm sorry," you manage to gasp out between sobs, your hands going up to wipe your face as all the overwhelming emotions finally take over you.

"Don't," Jungwon says firmly, "Don't apologize for feeling like this."

You take a shaky breath, trying to pull yourself together as your sobs eventually start to slow down, "I just don't understand. If he cares so much, why does this hurt so bad?"

"I don't think it's about how much he cares," Jungwon sighs, as if carrying your pain alongside you. "Sometimes...sometimes people care so much that they don't know what to do with it. They panic. They overthink. And they mess up in the worst ways because they don't know how to handle what they're feeling."

You look up at him, your face still wet with tears, "So you're saying it's an excuse."

"No," Jungwon replies, quickly shaking his head fervently. "Definitely not an excuse. Jake screwed up, Y/N. Big time. And it's 100% on him to fix that, not you. But—"

He pauses and thinks for a second, his words deliberate, "—it doesn't mean his feelings aren't real. Or that he doesn't care about you."

You look away, glancing down at your hands in your lap, fiddling with the hem of your coat as you take in Jungwon's words.

"It's just feels like...like I'm the only one who got hurt here, Won. Like I'm the only one who..," you trail off, unable to form your thoughts into a coherent sentence, but leave it up to Jungwon to always fully understand you.

"You're not the only one," he says softly. "He's hurting too, Y/N. Maybe not in the same way, and maybe he doesn't deserve any sympathy, but I can see it. I've seen it. Jake...Jake isn't Jake without you. And honestly? That idiot is probably tearing himself apart right now."

Your lips part, but the words don't find you. Instead, you let the weight of Jungwon's words sink in, unsure what to do with how true they may be.

"You don't have to forgive him right now," Jungwon adds after a moment. "Hell, you don't even have to forgive him at all. Honestly, that might satisfy me just a bit. But maybe...maybe you owe it to yourself to hear him out. Not for him, but for you."

You turn to Jungwon, your lips forming into the smallest pout, "But what if it just makes everything worse?"

He gives you a faint, grounding smile, equal parts reassuring and honest.

"Then you walk away knowing you did everything you could—for yourself. And if it does come to that," he shrugs lightly, "we'll figure it out together."

You're quiet for a long moment, the thought of walking away from Jake and everything he means to you terrifying you…but you know Jungwon's right. You owe yourself the chance to try—even if the unknown outcome fails you.

With a shaky breath, you nod, brushing away the last of your tears, "Thanks, Jungwon."

"You're welcome," Jungwon hums in acknowledgement before his lips curve into a small grin, the atmosphere lightening slightly, "but, uh, could you at least use the tissues in the glove compartment before my seats turn into a snot rag?"

You manage to let out a small scoff of disbelief as you roll your watery eyes, "You're the worst."

"Nah," Jungwon replies with a cheeky grin as he shifts the car back into drive, but not before he reaches over to ruffle your hair playfully. "C'mon. Let's get you home."

The knocking at Jungwon’s door comes at the worst possible moment.

He’s halfway through organizing his desk—something he only attempts when he’s too frustrated to sit still—and the last thing he expects to see when he swings the door open is Jake, standing there looking like he hasn’t slept a millisecond all night.

Jungwon makes no sign of saying anything or making a move, just staring at the older boy in question. Jakes shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his messy hair, not used to seeing Jungwon in this sour, expressionless mood.

"Hey," Jake finally says, his voice hesitant.

“What do you want?” Jungwon deadpans, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He knows he sounds harsh, but, frankly, he doesn’t care.

Jake falters for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground, "I...I need your help."

Jungwon's eyes narrow, "With what, exactly?"

He knows what, but he's not letting Jake off that easily. Not after last night.

"With Y/N," your name hangs in the air between them as Jake's voice cracks, and Jungwon clenches his jaw before he lets out a frustrated sigh.

"I don't think you're in any position to be asking me for help right now."

"I know," Jake says quickly, his hands raising in surrender. "I know, okay? I screwed up big time. I—God, I don't even know where to start, Jungwon. I just...I don't want to make things worse."

Jungwon lets out a bitter, humorless laugh, stepping back and motioning his head to let Jake enter his room, "You've already got a good head start on that, I see."

Jake steps inside, awkwardly hovering near the door as Jungwon moves to sit on the edge of his own bed. He doesn't offer Jake a seat, and Jake doesn't ask for one.

"She cried, you know," Jungwon says after a few moments of silence, his voice stone cold. "I had to pull over because she couldn't even hold it together long enough for me to get her home. I've known her my entire life, and I don't think I've ever seen her cry that hard, Jake."

Jake flinches, the words physically hurting him, "I didn't mean to—"

"Yeah, I know," the younger boy cuts him off, his voice sharp, his anger rising on behalf of you. "You didn't mean to hurt her. But you did. And now you're asking me to help you fix it like it's that easy."

"It's not easy," Jake mutters quietly, his hands fumbling with the edge of his hoodie. "Nothing about this...none of it is easy. But I know I messed up, and I—I can't just leave things like this, I can't lose her, Jungwon. I care about her too much."

Jungwon deadpans at his friend, fighting back the urge to scoff in his face, "If you cared about her, you wouldn't have let her walk out of that party looking like her entire world was falling apart."

Jake looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with something Jungwon can't quite name...desperation, maybe. Or guilt. Or both.

"I didn't know what to do," Jake finally admits, his voice still barely above a whisper, as if admitting to himself for the first time, too. "I saw her, and she looked so...broken. And I—I panicked, I didn't know what to do, and by the time I realized, she was gone."

Jungwon leans back, groaning as he runs a hand over his face. The anger bubbling within him hasn't fully faded, but he knows there's something else now—something softer, something that makes it harder to keep his protective guard for you up.

Because he knows Jake isn't lying.

"You don't get to half-ass this, Jake," Jungwon finally says after he thinks to himself. "She's not some random girl you're trying to impress, she isn't Jenn. This is Y/N. If you want to fix things, you have to be ready to own up to everything. No excuses, no backing out. She deserves that much."

Jake nods quickly, his eyes wide and hopeful at Jungwon's slight change in demeanor, “I will. I swear, I will.”

"And don't think she's going to forgive you right away," Jungwon adds. "She's hurt. You have to give her time. This isn't about what you want—it's about what she needs."

Jake swallows hard, nodding again, “I just want to talk to her. To explain. To tell her I’m sorry and—”

His voice cracks, and he looks down, his hands trembling slightly. Jungwon lets out a sigh, his mixed feelings turning more into something closer to pity. Because as much as he wants to stay mad for your sake, he's known Jake long enough to know that he's a good guy—and that his heart is in the right place.

But even more than that, he knows you. And he knows how much Jake means to you, even if you won't admit it, especially not now more than ever.

"You're actually an idiot," Jungwon says after a few beats, his voice carrying a lighter tone now. "But for some godforsaken reason, knowing her, I think she might actually miss you."

Jake looks up from his hands, his eyes searching Jungwon's face for any flicker of doubt, "You really think so?"

Jungwon shrugs, standing up and moving towards his door, "I think you've got a lot of work to do if you want to earn her trust back. But...I think you still have a chance."

Jake doesn't say anything as he follows Jungwon to the door, but the look on his face says enough—there's a new slight look of hope. It's small, but he's clutching onto it like it’s his lifeline.

“You know," Jungwon says when he reaches the doorway. "Y/N’s not the type to let people in easily. She puts up walls—but with you…she let them down. You’re special to her, Jake, even if she doesn’t say it. Don’t throw that away. For her sake, and yours.”

“I won’t,” Jake promises, his voice steady now. “Thank you, Jungwon.”

Jungwon nods at the older boy before giving him a faint smile, "And just so you know, I defended you yesterday. So don't prove me wrong or I'm actually going to deck you."

Jake lets out a weak laugh as he hangs outside Jungwon's door, "Noted. I promise I won't let her down again."

Jungwon doesn’t respond, just closes the door with a soft click, and hopes—for all their sakes—that Jake means it.

Jake [5:12PM]: hi Y/N Jake [5:12PM]: i know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now. and i don’t blame you at all Jake [5:13PM]: but i cant just stay silent and let this sit between us, and i value you too much to not respect you needing space and just show up at your door Jake [5:14PM]: even though it’s killing me to stay away Jake [5:14PM]: after you left the party last night, i went back inside. i told jenn that whatever we had in the past is exactly that, the past. and i swear to you, Y/N, there’s nothing between us. there hasn’t been for a long time. and it’s my fault for making it seem otherwise. Jake [5:15PM]: and as for how i acted…i don’t even know where to start. i fucked up extremely. nothing will excuse my actions and i don’t expect you to forgive me. but i need to apologize properly, you deserve that much. Jake [5:17PM]: please let me see you, Y/N. i don’t deserve it, and i don’t deserve you. but you mean everything to me, and i hate that i hurt you. and i promise, if you let me, i’ll do everything to make it up to you.

You stare at the phone in your hand, the messages feeling like salt to an open wound. The words on the screen begin to blur together as tears prick your eyes, spilling over before you even realize it. You don't bother wiping them away—the sting in your chest too raw, too heavy. Each word feels like Jake is standing right there in front of you, his voice soft and broken, tangled with regret.

You tell yourself to stop reading. You've already gone through the same messages at least a hundred times in the past ten minutes, overanalyzing each syllable as if they hold the answers to all of your questions.

And yet, you can't stop.

You want to be angry. You are angry. Or, at least, you think. Because beneath the flame of your anger that's already threatening to die out? There's an ache you can't ignore—a small, stubborn part of you that refuses to let go to the sincerity in his words, clinging onto the hope that he's telling you the truth.

You mean everything to me, and I hate that I hurt you. I promise, if you let me, I'll do everything to make it up to you.

The ache twists harder, curling into doubt. What if he means it? What if he's telling the truth?

But of course, the fear rises just as quickly. Because what if he's not? What if you let him back in, and it all falls apart again? What if you let yourself believe in him, giving him the second chance he's asking for, only to have your heart shattered worse than before?

And then, there's Jungwon's voice, soft but steady, cutting through the chaos brewing in your mind: "Even idiots get scared when they care about someone as much as he clearly cares about you."

Your breath catches.

Because that's the worst part. Knowing that maybe—just maybe—Jake really does care. Knowing that maybe he's telling the truth—and you're the one too afraid to take the risk, ready to build up the walls Jake's managed to get through.

Your phone screen suddenly dims, pulling you out of your thoughts and back into the moment. You blink rapidly, wiping at your face, your mind a mess of emotions you can't untangle or describe.

Fear. Hope. Doubt.

And something else—something you're afraid to admit, but you know is unmistakably real.

And it's stronger than the fear churning in your chest—it's something that's pulling you forward.

Your heart pounds almost out of your rib cage as you let out a shaky breath, the weight on your shoulders pressing harder and harder with every second you hesitate. The ache doesn't let up, but neither does your hope.

So you stop thinking altogether, letting your heart take control instead.

You shut your eyes, as if bracing yourself for a crash, take a deep breath, unlock your phone, and let your fingers fly across the screen, each word feeling like a leap off a cliff.

You hit send.

Y/N [5:30PM]: hi jake Y/N [5:30PM]: you can come over

The soft knock at your door startles you, even though you know it’s coming.

“Y/N?”

His voice. Jake’s voice.

Your heart clenches painfully, a conflicting mix of longing and hurt washing over you all at once. It hasn't even been a full day since the party, but the weight of his absence has already hollowed you out, leaving a hole you can't ignore. You know he's the one who caused it—that the cracks in your heart are his doing—but at the same time, the stubborn part of you whispers that he's also the only one who can mend them.

You make your way to the door, your movements hesitant as you crack it open, peek out, and...there he is.

"Hi," Jake says softly.

He's a mess. A beautiful, saddened mess—his hair messy, like he's been running his hands through it all day, his eyes rimmed with the kind of exhaustion that isn't just physical. One hand is buried deep in his jacket, and in the other—

"Flowers?" You ask, raising a brow in surprise.

Jake's ears turn red. "Yeah. Uh, I didn't know if you had a favorite, so I got—"

You open the door wider, revealing the full bouquet—daisies, tulips, roses, all wrapped together in crinkled tissue paper.

"—a little bit of everything," he finishes awkwardly, his voice trailing off, pausing for a second before holding them out to you with a sheepish smile.

Your lips twitch subconsciously, despite everything.

"Jake, you're literally allergic."

His mouth opens, then closes, the redness from his ears now spreading to his cheeks.

"Well, yeah, but—," Jake mumbles, shifting on his feet. "—not, like, deadly or anything dramatic like that."

He pauses, his voice dropping into something softer, more vulnerable, "I just wanted you to have them. That's all."

You feel your insides tighten, the sincerity in his voice getting to you. For a moment, all you can manage to do is stare at him—at the way his eyes are silently pleading, wide and unsure.

You hesitate for a second, then step back and open the door wider.

"Thank you," you say quietly, your fingers brushing against his as you take the bouquet, sending a flicker of warmth through you. "Come in."

Jake hesitates, his eyes searching yours like he's not sure if he's actually allowed to. When you turn away and walk towards your kitchen, he finally steps inside, kicking off his shoes quickly and hovering by the door like he doesn't know what to expect next.

You set the flowers down on the counter, adjusting them carefully before turning back to him. He's still standing there, stiff and uncertain, the distance between you feeling larger than ever before.

"So..." You say, crossing your arms tightly across yourself, shifting your weight as a way to ground yourself—though the lump in your throat makes it feel impossible.

Jake exhales shakily, his hands fidgeting by his sides and gaze darting to the floor before finally landing on you, "I came to apologize. Properly."

You blink at him, expression unreadable, "You already said sorry."

Your voice comes out sharper than intended, surprising even yourself, but the words leave before you can stop them. Jake flinches, just slightly, but he nods, knowing he deserved that.

"Not like I should have," he says, stepping closer, his voice low and careful, like he's afraid you'll run out of your own apartment. "I know I messed up. I hurt you, and I hate that I did. I hate that I made you feel like you weren't enough or that someone else could ever compare to you, Y/N."

Your arms tighten around yourself as if the words might knock the breath out of you as look away, unsure if you can meet the rawness in his eyes.

"Last night," Jake continues, his eyes filling with guilt, "I didn't handle last night right. And not just how I handled Jenn, but I let my own insecurities and stupid fears of being perfect for you get in the way. I let it happen and mess everything up. I let you think that you didn't matter to me, and I will never forgive myself, Y/N."

His words hang in the air, heavy yet sincere, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him as you process his words slowly.

"And I don't expect you to forgive me either, Y/N," Jake's voice wavers before he continues, "but I need you to know that I'm so, so sorry. No excuses. For all of it—for making you feel like anything less than everything, for making you feel like you weren't my first choice. Because you are. You're my only, Y/N."

His words hit you with a force that crashes over the walls you tried so desperately to build. They're overwhelming yet tender, like rediscovering a piece of yourself you hadn't even realized you lost. And you want to let them comfort you, you do. But the pain from last night lingers deep down, reminding you of why you built those walls in the first place.

For a moment, the silence stretches on longer than you intend, the weight of his words settling in the air between you. Jake doesn't look away though—his gaze unwavering, vulnerable, and raw.

As though he's laid himself bare before you, giving you the power to either accept or shatter him completely.

When you finally find your voice, it trembles despite your best efforts, "Jake...I don't know if I can just forget what happened."

"I'm not asking you to forget," he says quickly, taking another step closer until there's only a few feet left between you. "I just want the chance to fix us. I can't lose you like this, Y/N."

Your breath catches at the proximity, his presence pulling you in like gravity. The pain from last night tries to claw its way back into your heart—sharp and bitter—but his warmth reminds you of something else that refuses to be ignored.

That flicker of hope that's demanding your attention, screaming at you to just let him in—not just for his sake, but for you.

You take a deep breath, finally meeting his gaze. "Jake, I don't need you to...to be this perfect person. I don't need you to prove anything to me."

You pause, pushing past the lump in your throat, "Because since the beginning, I always believed you. And...I think I still do. Even after last night, I still believe you, Jake. No matter how hard I try to."

Jake lets out a breath he thinks he's been holding in for hours, "Really?"

"Yeah," you nod slowly, as if reassuring yourself as much as him. "But I don't need any of your promises or proof or any of that. I just...I just need you as you."

His eyes soften at you as he nods so quickly it's almost desperate.

"And I need you to be honest with me, Jake," you continue before he can speak. "If we do this, I need to know I can trust you. Because I don't know if I can do this...this waiting game anymore."

"You can," he says immediately, closing the distance between you two, making your breath hitch. You can see the way his hands are trembling, the slight quiver in his lips. "You can trust me. No more hesitation. I'm all in, Y/N. This is it for me, you're it."

You search his face for any sign of doubt, any speck of hesitation. But all you find is his sincerity—so hopeful and so real—the kind that makes you want to let him in fully and let your walls crumble all over again.

So you do.

"Okay," you say softly, almost as if you're testing the word.

Jake's eyes widen, the relief and hope flooding his features. Slowly, as if asking for permission, he reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours tentatively.

"Okay?" He whispers, his voice barely audible to you as his eyes flicker between your hands and your face.

You nod, your own hand turning over so your fingers curl around his in an instinctive gesture that feels so natural it makes you want to scream. The warmth of his touch feels like the first real comfort you've felt in forever, and it's enough to make your resolve slip.

"But," you add softly, your eyes not leaving the way his hand wraps around yours so perfectly, "this doesn't mean everything's fine. We need to talk. We need to figure out where we stand, and where we go from there."

Jake nods again, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, "We will. Whatever it takes, Y/N, I'll do it. I need you to know how much you mean to me and I'll never stop trying to show you that."

You let out a shaky breath as you take in his words, finally looking up from your intertwined hands to meet his eyes, your own slowly filling with the tears you've been holding back.

"You really hurt me, Jake," you say quietly, your voice breaking from the sheer weight of your vulnerability being laid bare.

Jake's face crumbles instantly, guilt etched into every line of his expression. Without hesitation, his free hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb light brushing away the tears that fall, as if he's afraid you might pull away.

Your eyes flutter closed at the warmth of his hand, and despite the emotions raging inside you, you let yourself lean into him. It feels both reckless, yet inevitable, like free-falling and trusting—knowing—he'll catch you.

"I know," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion he can't swallow down. "And I'll spend as long as it takes to deserve you, Y/N. I'll never make you feel like that again."

You nod weakly, and before you can think too much, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into the safety of his chest, his chin moving to rest on top of your head as his warmth envelops you completely.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself break, burying your face into his chest as the tears flow freely, the weight of everything finally breaking free as you let yourself melt into his tight embrace.

It's not perfect. It's not a fix-all.

But as Jake holds you close, whispering quiet reassurances into your hair, you know it's a start.

And a start is all you need.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

epilogue:

“Hi, pretty.”

“Hi, Jake.”

On the other end of the call, Jake lets out a playful scoff. Even with the slight lag, you can see his lips twitch into that familiar pout—the one that still gives you butterflies, no matter how many times you've see it now, even a year later.

“After all we’ve been through, you still won’t give me a cute pet name?”

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin, “What do you want me to say? Hi, my handsome, perfect, kindest, funniest, boyfriend in the whole wide world?”

Jake leans closer to the camera, his expression completely serious as if you should already know his answer, "...Yes."

Giggles burst out of you, shaking your head at his antics. “You’re too cute to be doing all that, Jake. Pick a struggle.”

He clutches his chest dramatically, “You know, what? You’re my struggle—I fly across time zones, run on three hours of sleep, and you still won’t give me a crumb of your affection?”

“You’re exhausting.”

“And yet…,” Jake trails off with a teasing smirk, his voice dropping into that playful, yet low lilt that still makes your stomach flip to this day. "Here you are, calling me at 1AM in the morning.”

Your cheeks flush as you glance away from the screen, trying to ignore the way his teasing gaze makes you feel, "Don’t' get confused, it's not like I wanted to or anything. I just figured someone should remind you to go to bed or else you'll look like a zombie tomorrow at the fanmeet."

Jake laughs softly, the sound grounding you in a certain way only he ever can. "You're so thoughtful, babe. My number-one hater and number-one fan, all at once. I'm so lucky."

You send him an air kiss, the teasing grin on your face mirrored by the fond one tugging at his lips. He looks at you like he did in that first-ever call way back then—like you're his whole world, and he can't believe you're real.

"How's the jet lag this time?" You ask, steering the conversation to safer ground.

"It's not so bad," he shrugs, despite the clear exhaustion in his voice. "At least this trip is only for a few days. Then I can come back to the comfort of our bed."

You raise an eyebrow, "My bed."

Jake's eyes narrow, "Our bed. Just admit it—you miss me."

You pause. "Maybe. Just a little."

His grin widens, and for a moment, neither of you say anything, the conversation lulling into an easy silence—the kind of warmth that only comes with knowing someone so well.

Finally, you shift under your blanket, getting comfortable as Jake watches you through this screen, his gaze tender, as though memorizing the curve of your smile, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear.

"You should sleep," you murmur, holding your phone closer to your face. The glow of your phone reflecting off your soft features sends palpations to Jake's chest so loud he almost doesn't hear your words.

"Mm, I really should," Jake sighs, though he doesn't move an inch. "I'll talk to you soon, yeah?"

"Mmhm," you hum, your eyes closing at the softness of his voice.

“Sleep tight. I love you,” his says, voice soft and deliberate, making sure you feel every word.

“Goodnight, Jakey,” you tease, letting the smirk creep into your voice, peeking an eye open just to catch his reaction.

Jake groans dramatically, running a hand down his face, “Y/N…not this again.”

You giggle, the fondness within you growing tenfold as you take in his face—the slight pout of his lips, his messy hair, his eyes shining with unwavering adoration for you.

“I said I love youuu,” he whines, dragging out the last word, his lips tugging into the tiniest of smiles, his entire universe reflecting from his eyes.

Finally, you give in, smiling sweetly.

“I love you, too, Jake. You already know.”

And you’ve never meant anything more.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

Songs that Remind me of Y/N:

From the first call to forever—you've always been my favorite melody. Yours, Jake <3

"As I Am" – Justin Bieber (ft. Khalid)

"Daylight" – Taylor Swift

"DIE 4 YOU" - Dean

"Psycho, Pt. 2" – Russ

"Heaven" – Bazzi

"Every Kind of Way" – H.E.R.

"Off My Face" – Justin Bieber

"Before You" – Benson Boone

"Sunflower" – Post Malone & Swae Lee

"Pink + White" – Frank Ocean

"No Doubt" – Enhypen <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

update! if you enjoyed this and want more of no doubt!jake & y/n, check out my sequel series linked here for drabbles of their relationship <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! if you made it all the way, this is for you:

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡♡♡♡♡♡

p.s. i wanted to leave the ending kinda up to interpretation—hence the time skip to a year later..but lowkey what if i wrote short drabbles/scenes of things jake does to gain Y/N's trust again, from small to big gestures etc etc..lmk if that's something anyone would wanna see !! (update — linked above now!)

<3, addie

m.list here!

tag list (love you all <3):

(i hope it let me tag everyone!)

@thesassy-mia @ikeulove @renaishun @xylatox @puma-riki @blackberryrains @dreamiestay @junislqve @lamin143 @dreamy-carat @etherealhan @vvenusoncasual @belovedsthings @somuchdard @sumzysworld @mirouie @almondtofu006 @fancypeacepersona @vivimura @hollxe1 @missthang600 @sugarikiz @sanasour @enhamonsterghoul @etherealriki

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victorluvsalice · 2 years ago

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With my lust for Valicer pictures satisfied for the moment, it was back to the reception to wrap things up with the guests. The last of the food was eaten, the last few stories shared, I THINK Lilith Pleasant may have peed herself by accident but I didn't see for sure, and the wedding wrapped up with pretty much everyone having had a good time and Victor and Smiler getting gold on the party! :D Granted, they didn't in any way NEED the free appliances in this instance, but still -- always nice to get the best party reward!

But that wasn't the end of the day for the trio just yet -- you see, as it turned out, Summer Friday was also a pop-up holiday: "Night On The Town!" The one where all drinks and food at community lots that serve them are free. I didn't want the OT3 to miss out on celebrating that, so what better way to celebrate the renewing of old vows and the committing of new ones than to head to Planet Honeypop! in San Myshuno for free juice and karaoke! Victor and Smiler hit the bar first, Victor getting a "Silent Film" (whatever that is in drink form) and Smiler their usual Plasma Jane -- Alice joined them after hunting down another poster in the world (turned out to be a duplicate of one they already had, though), picking up a Fizzy Fruity drink to enjoy. And then, once everybody had enjoyed their freebies (and emptied their bladders as necessary), it was time for karaoke! Smiler and Victor started things off with a pop duet, and then Smiler and Alice followed up with a country one (while Victor snuck some more wedding cake out of his inventory XD). Smiler was definitely carrying those performances, let me tell you -- though Victor DID get Singing level 6 in the process! So that's something, right?

And with that, it was finally time to head home, so Victor and Smiler could consummate their wedding night in Victor and Alice's nice bed (and their new CC underwear, thank you nucrest's Essential Underwear Set v1). And so I could start going through pictures and hanging up important things -- like both Victor and Alice's and Victor and Smiler's new wedding certificates! Yeah, while I'd ordered one for Victor and Alice a few days back (you could see it above their desk at the beginning of the update), they actually got a new one as a result of their vow renewal -- and the new one looked a lot better than the old one, so that's the one I kept. :) I also moved the photos that were originally on the dresser so I could replace them with some wedding snaps...

But, uh, me going through the fifty million photos I ended up taking of this event feels like something we should get into another day. XD So yeah, next update, you see how many wedding photos are now scattered around the house -- and of course, when you have a wedding, you also have to have a honeymoon... See you then!

#sims 4 #the lazy save #victor van dort #alice liddell #smiler always #valicer #sims valicer wedding #yeah Lilith seemed embarrassed by SOMETHING when I returned to the party #but I'm not sure if it was she had an accident or what #she didn't look particularly stinky?#*shrug* Sorry if you did have an accident Lilith!#but the bathrooms were right downstairs...#and I was actually initially a little nervous when I saw that Night On The Town was also on Friday #but I guess that's a simple enough holiday that the game doesn't stop you from holding goaled events on the same day #not that Victor and Smiler NEEDED their wedding to be goaled but #it was NICE to officially earn gold on it!#and it was also nice to send them out for karaoke afterward XD #good times :p #and yes you will see the full extent of my wedding pictures nonsense next week #for now just enjoy that nice shot of the wedding certificates :)#ignore the just-woohooed Victor in the corner there XD #queued

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catherinnn · 9 months ago

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Truth or Dare Harrington?

Steddie x reader

summary: The gang has a night out singing karaoke and drinking. When the party dies down, this trio continues the fun at your apartment.

warnings: SMUT (+18), threesome, p i v, unprotected sex (don't do this, this is fiction), oral sex (m & f), no body descriptions appart that it's afab reader, smoking weed and drinking alcohol.

words: 3.2 k. masterlist

part 2

It had started as a fun night out celebrating you were all finally available, the entire group.

Ever since some of you started collage and others started working, the group wasn't what it once was. But tonight you were all here, drinking shot after shot and finishing endless cups of whatever you were ordering.

You went to a karaoke bar –Robin's idea– and it was the most fun you have had in a while.

You did all from solo songs to duets.

You sang 'I'm Just a Girl' with the girls; you sang a duet with Eddie doing 'The Chain'; Steve dared you to sing 'Take My Breath Away'; and then you made him sing 'Last Christmas' –even though it is July– but he made you sing it with him. Eddie and Steve dedicated you their version of 'Maneater' which you didn't know if you should be flattered or offended by.

To sum up, every possible song until your vocal cords hurt.

After that, you offered your apartment to keep the party going. Steve and Eddie were the firsts to say yes very excitedly, but the rest of the gang decided to head home already, calling it a night.

Eddie offered to share some of his good stuff but they went off either way. You still agreed to go and smoke at least for a little while with the boys.

That's how you ended up in your couch, passing a joint among the three of you while you played some dumb drinking game.

"Truth" Eddie chooses.

"Who of the two of us was your favorite to sing with tonight?" you ask him.

"Oh, that's mean. I liked both of you," Eddie takes a moment to think. "but I think we had a lot of chemistry on that stage, big boy"

"What?" you ask offended at his answer. "We had so much chemistry with that song, and it was much more of an iconic moment than yours!"

"Hey hey, he already made his decision!" Steve argues. "Control your jealousy"

"Get out of my apartment" you joke.

"Alright, calm down, I'll make you choose too" Eddie starts. "If you were... stranded on a desert island with one of us, who would it be?"

You roll your eyes, "that's easy, Steve" Eddie gasps offended and Steve grins proudly. "Well, because he was an athlete, he has a good body to survive and also take care of me" you tried to defend your answer.

"I'll take care of you baby" Steve winks at you.

Eddie and you start bickering until Steve makes you shut up and keep playing.

"Quit fighting, Eddie I dare you to say your favorite thing about her"

Eddie smirks already knowing his answer, "Umm, let me think," he says, pretending to be indecisive while forming two circles with his hands in front of his chest, mimicking the shape of breasts.

Steve laughs at this and you roll your eyes containing your giggle.

"Uh- no, it's her eyes, definitely" he answers for real this time.

"Yours?" Steve asks you now. "What's your favorite think about him?"

"Umm," you look at him while thinking your answer. "I could say your eyes as well, but I don't want to copy you... and I love your hair but we have the king of all hairs here present" you say referring to Steve. "I really like your smile, your whole face lights up when you smile, and you have those cute dimples too"

Eddie, ironically, can't help but smile at your statement.

"My turn" you declare. "Stevie, truth or dare"

"Dare"

"I dare you to... hold hands with Eddie for the next three rounds"

"Alright" he takes the other man's hand in his as he also takes the joint from his mouth to keep smoking himself. The latter rolls his eyes at this.

More rounds like that continue, where Eddie makes you sit on Steve's lap until you finish playing, and you make Eddie do a sexy dance without music where you couldn't stop laughing.

"Truth or dare Harrington?" the metalhead asks him.

"Truth"

"What is... a fantasy of yours? A sexy one"

"Uh..." Steve debates whether to say it or not. "Well, I've always wanted to- um, to have a threesome"

"Really?"

"Yeah"

"With two girls?" you ask him.

"Yeah... or a guy and a girl too, I think" he confesses.

"Princess, I dare you and Steve to shotgun" Eddie says all of the sudden.

"What? It's not even your turn"

"We're not even following those rules anymore" he defends.

"Uh, fine" you agree either way.

Steve grabs the joint and as you were already on his lap you just turn your head to look at him.

"I'll do it, yeah?" he checks and you nod.

He takes a drag and holds it, you move your head as close as you can so your lips are almost touching. He exhales the smoke into your mouth and you inhale it.

You don't know if it's the weed or having Steve so close to your face you're almost kissing, but you get a little dizzy on your head.

"You okay?" he checks on you again noticing this. You nod slowly without moving away yet, as you exhale the smoke.

Eddie looks at this smirking, enjoying the scene. "Steve, I dare you to kiss her"

"W- what?"

"Oh, you are both dying to! Just do it already!" he accuses.

You and Steve look back at each other as if you're asking the same question: Can we?

And you both give each other a little nod.

Therefore, Steve slowly closes the distance, finally kissing you.

His lips feel soft on yours. You can taste something sweet as well as the weed from before. The kiss is slow and tender, he caresses your cheek to pull you closer. Your hands go to his hair, feeling how soft it is.

When you separate, you let a little laugh out and so does he.

"That's cute" Eddie comments. You both look back at him.

Steve tries something, hoping it goes well. "Munson, I dare you to kiss her now"

He looks at Steve surprised, but with a smile on. As if he couldn't believe he had said that.

"Can I, sweetheart?" He asks you.

It's like having a little red devil on one shoulder saying, 'Yes! Go kiss him!' and a little angel on the other shoulder saying, 'No, you shouldn't be doing this.’

You pick the devil's side.

Getting down from Steve’s lap, you move closer to the other boy now.

He smirks at you before pressing his lips to yours.

This kiss was a little harder, not fast, just more passionate. He tastes like mint mixed with a smoky sent, being the weed and cigarettes. His hand is also on your cheek, almost at your jaw, keeping you in place. Your hands are also on his hair as you play with his curls.

You separate and feel that dizzy head again. What are these boys doing to you?

He smiles as well as Steve did and you ignore the little jump your belly does.

"I think there's only one move left" you comment as you look at them. You point at one, then at the other, and continue moving your finger back and forth between them, indicating both of them.

Eddie looks at Steve with a big grin. He's enjoying this way too much.

"O- okay" Steve agrees and they get closer until they start kissing.

You lean back enjoying the show. They don't hold back, it’s not a mere peck on the lips, not even close to that. They kiss properly. You wonder if now their tastes are mixed as well. Or if they can taste your lips as well as each other's.

You sit up and get closer to them. They separate and both look at you with puffy lips, you smile at that sight. You feel their hands at your waist bringing you closer. You grab both their faces gently as you bring them closer together and to you.

They see you closing your eyes and they follow you.

It's your first three-way kiss, it's not as uncomfortable as you imagined it would be. It's pretty fun actually, feeling both of their lips against yours, tongues meeting each other again. It's really hot.

You separate after a few minutes of that, looking at them smiling.

"Umm, do you... do any of you want to stop?" Steve asks a bit awkwardly.

Eddie is quick to shake his head, looking at you expectantly.

"Me either" you confirm.

Eddie smiles and kisses you again. You extend your hand to Steve so he doesn't feel left out. He takes it and starts to kiss your neck now. You let out a soft moan against the other boy's mouth.

Kisses and touches are shared among the three of you. You feel Eddie's hands under your shirt and Steve's on your ass. The metalhead lifts your shirt up a little as if asking you if it's okay, you separate from Steve's mouth and lift your arms up. He bites his lips as he takes the shirt off.

Both boy's hands are quickly on your waist, belly and chest.

"You can take that off too, you know?" you say referring to you bra. They look at you as if you just told them they won the lottery.

Steve is the first to reach the back of your bra and unhook it. Eddie's hands take your straps and slowly takes it off completely.

They stare at your boobs as if it is the first time they're seeing breasts. You know for a fact that it's not.

Steve's hands that were on your waist, travel upwards to touch them. Eddie goes to kiss your neck and travel down to your chest, and then to your breasts.

Steve kisses you again and you go to take his shirt off now. You moan on his mouth as Eddie plays with your tits expertly, making you more impatient.

“Can you lay down for us, sweetheart?” Steve asks you and you do as he asked.

Eddie sits up next to Steve, looking down at you as well. Steve whispers something in Eddie’s ear and he nods in agreement. You frown.

“Care to share with the class, boys?” you tell them. Eddie smirks at your joke but stays quiet.

“We just want to take of you” Steve starts.

“Enjoy you a little bit. Does that sound good, princess?” Eddie continues.

You’re still intrigued of what they agreed on, but accept either way.

“Good, just relax for us” Eddie says again as he hovers on top of you and starts kissing you. You enjoy having him like this. You feel Steve’s hands on your thighs going up to your hips.

“Can I take these off?” he asks referring to your pants and you give him the green light.

He unbuttons your pants and takes them off, taking his time, caressing your thighs while you still enjoy of the other boy’s lips on yours.

“These are so cute, baby” the bigger boy comments making Eddie stop kissing you to turn his head and see what he was talking about.

“Oh” Eddie lets out sweetly, “Do you always wear pretty panties like these?” he teases and you shake your head. “No? And why did you wear them tonight?”

You shrug this time, acting innocent. The truth is they make you feel good about yourself. You feel pretty and hot with them. As you knew you were going to go out with them tonight, you wanted the confidence. But you weren’t going to admit that.

“Just a coincidence? Or did you wear them because you were gonna see us?” Eddie continues teasing you.

“What do you think?” you say against his lips, challenging him.

“I think you’re not as innocent as you seem right now” he confesses and it takes everything in you not to make him lay down now as you sit in top of him and see if he can still tease you that way. But you don’t, because you also want to focus on Steve.

“Stop it you two” Steve orders.

“Open your pretty legs, baby” Eddie changes the subject smirking as he moves to face your panties now.

Steve takes advantage of this and lays next to you as he starts kissing your neck.

Eddie finally takes your underwear off and you feel him kissing your thighs, traveling up.

You turn to kiss the boy next to you and he responds happily, caressing from your waist, to your back, your neck, your hair. Everywhere he can really.

Eddie’s kisses move to your cunt now, focusing on your clit and teasing your entrance with two of his fingers.

It’s harder to focus now, Eddie puts his mouth to good use when he’s not mocking you. He makes you feel so good, knowing exactly where and how to play with your pussy. This, added with the touches and kisses Steve leaves on your skin, making you burn.

You moan as you back to kissing Steve, one of your hands on his hair and the other on the hair of the boy kissing you lower. Pulling at each mane.

Eddie doesn’t even want to blink, looking at you both make out as you hide your moans on Steve’s mouth. He is enjoying your sweet taste and the beautiful view. Flickering his tongue quickly on your clit and then sucking on it, he enters two of his fingers in you, making you arch, he smirks against your pussy.

His tongue moves in sync with his fingers, picking a more urgent pace as he feels you clench. You separate from Steve as you keep moaning.

“Gonna cum, baby? Are you close?” the latter asks as he enjoys watching you like this.

“Yes, mmph” you let out pulling on the long set of hair and arching even more as you cum. Your legs try to close but Steve stops them before you succeed.

Eddie keeps licking your pussy for a few more seconds after you cum, to then get up triumphantly. Steve grabs the boy to give him another kiss, tasting you on his tongue. Both men moan at this.

While you catch your breath you see them as they undress each other completely. When they’re done, they look back at you.

“Do you want to keep going?” Eddie asks you and you tell them yes.

They make you sit in the middle on them, your back to Steve. Eddie kisses you and you still taste yourself a little, Steve kisses your whole back.

The tattooed boy steps back, and Steve slowly pushes you down, positioning you all on fours.

“If you want to stop at any time, please tell us. Okay?” He says in your ear and you nod.

You feel Eddie’s hand on your chin, making you look up. He kisses you again as you feel Steve positioning himself in your entrance.

“Can I, baby?” he checks one more time, and you give him the green light once again.

You moan in Eddie’s mouth as you feel Steve entering you. He’s big, really big, making you feel him everywhere.

Eddie kisses your check, jaw, and neck until you get used to Steve’s size. Then he gets up, and you’re now facing his belly.

Before either of them says anything, you understand what they want to do. You start kissing his happy trail down to his cock. He’s also very big, a little less thick than Steve, but definitely nothing for him to feel jealous of.

You feel Steve moving slow but deep inside you, and as he feels you getting more wet around him, he fastens his thrusts.

You start kissing Eddie’s head and licking his length for a few seconds just to tease him. Then you finally wrap your lips around him, slowly entering your mouth. He throws his head back, getting lost in the pleasure.

“Your mouth feels so good, princess, fuck” he curses.

Steve moves faster at this, “Pussy’s so good too, you’re just fucking perfect” he moans.

You moan with your mouth completely full, making Eddie grunt and wrap his hand in your hair, also preventing it from bothering you.

Both boys take pleasure on the view as well. Eddie can see Harrington with his mouth slightly open, letting some moans and curses out as he moves perfectly inside you. He can see your round ass and Steve’s hands gripping it harshly. Lastly, he can see your beautiful face in pleasure as you take all of him in your mouth. He wonders how he can be so fucking lucky to be living this, but wishes it never stops.

Steve watches your pussy take him expertly, from his tip until he feels his pelvis come in touch with your skin. He watches your ass all round and perfect in front of him; he can’t see your face, but he sees Eddie’s hand grip your hair tighter and tighter until his skin turns white. He watches the other boy’s tattooed chest and arms, with his head turning back in pleasure from time to time, showing his big neck.

“Fuck yes, just like that, princess” Eddie curses. And Steve smirks feeling you clench around him.

“She likes hearing you, Munson”

“Oh, do you now? You like me saying how good you’re taking me? Best fucking blowjob I’ve ever had” You feel a tingle of jealousy imagining him with another girl in her knees for him, you’ll find a way to bother him with that when your mouth is not completely full.

“Fuck, she really does” Steve snitches on you and Eddie laughs.

“Such a good play toy we have here for us, Harrington”

“Fucking right we do”

Eddie feels you whimper against him. You separate, taking him out of your mouth to breathe for a second.

“That’s good, catch your breath, sweetheart” he says as he brushes his thumb over your swollen lips.

“Fuck, Steve! Harder!” you take the advantage to tell him and he obeys, making you face the cushions now form how hard he’s thrusting in and out.

“I can feel how close you are, baby, cum for us” He orders now, sliding a hand to play with your clit.

“Oh, yes yees, just like that!” You grip the cushions hard as you let yourself come undone.

“Shit baby, you’re so hot” He moves harder and faster now, catching his climax.

He quickly takes himself out, stroking his cock fast until he cums on your back, cursing and moaning as he does.

He picks up his shirt and cleans you out as you catch your breath.

You feel Eddie now next to you again.

“You feel okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I’m really good” you comment, and you see he’s still hard.

“Eds” you get up to sit on his lap, but he stops you.

“Wait, hey. Do you want to keep going? We don’t have to?”

You roll your eyes playfully, still appreciating his concern, and you kiss him again.

He kisses you back so needy, grabbing you to sit on him and feeling you up.

He stops for a second and looks to the side of the room, Steve is sitting down watching you. Eddie signals the seat next to him, and Steve gets closer to you.

You go back to kissing Eddie, and Steve is kissing his neck.

Hands are everywhere, feeling each other’s bodies. You get up slightly and grab Eddie’s dick so you can sit on him.

“Oh, shit” he moans against Steve’s mouth. You move back and forth on him, Steve’s hands controlling your movements, helping you to ride Eddie.

“Oh fuuck” you moan arching my back.

“Sensitive baby?” Steve teases you and you nod.

“You feel so good, princess, holy shit” his head rests back on Steve’s shoulder. You both go to kiss and bite his neck, leaving marks behind just like the one’s Steve’s leaving on your hips from his tight grip.

“You feel so so good in me, baby” You tease him a little, whisper in his ear. “You both did, stretching me out so well, my big boys”

“Fuck- I- I’m not gonna last, I’m so close” He rests his head on your shoulder now, leaving bites and kisses.

“Cum with me Eds, I’m so close too” you jump faster now.

“Look at our little bunny here” Steve keeps teasing you both now, Eddie looks up at you and kisses you once again.

“Mhh, cum Eddie! Cum with me!” You tell him as you let go. He follows you right behind, grunting your name.

You stay like that with him, hugging each other. Steve gets up to grab a glass of water and a towel so he can clean you up once again.

He rests back on the couch next to you two.

“That was incredible” he comments.

“It really was” you say, turning your head to look at him, still resting with Eddie.

“You okay, Munson?” Steve checks since he stayed silent.

“I’m awesome man” he finally lets out. “and was incredible, indeed”

“You’re staying over? Don’t make me sleep alone now” you ask them.

“Of course, sweetheart”

“If you insist, princess”

You let out a small laugh, pleased with their answers.

“Let’s go to bed before we fall asleep on the couch” Steve orders.

And you sleep with one of them on each side, all cuddling together. You haven’t slept that good in a while.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington smut #steddie x reader smut #steddie x reader #steddie #steddie smut #steve Harrington x eddie munson x reader #stranger things smut

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desperate-gay · 4 months ago

Note

christmas request for leah williamson:

"Just because we’re stuck under mistletoe doesn’t mean I have to kiss you.”

“Scared you might enjoy it?"

A Christmas Tease

Leah Williamson x fem!reader

summary: your teammate has quite the reputation and she will do anything to catch your attention

a/n: just a quick blurb i thought id write due to a sleepless night

“There she is!” Katie shouts, arm extended with a beer in hand, announcing your late arrival at the party.

“Yes, here I am. My tires are horrible with the snow and everyone drives like there’s a whole blizzard outside.” You roll your eyes, removing your outdoor gear to throw on the coat rack and embrace the warmth of the house.

You greet everyone with a smile and catch up to all the conversations that have happened within the last 20 minutes you have missed. You’ve gotten extremely close with many of your teammates despite only playing for Arsenal for only a couple of months. Once your USWNT teammate, Emily Fox, was signed, you weren’t too long after.

You had already known a lot of your teammates from international games and previous clubs you had played for, so there weren't too many people to get used to.

Besides one very obnoxious player.

Leah Williamson.

She has a reputation for sleeping around and placing girls in her trophy case. The team jokes that she’s challenging herself to sleep with every girl in London, and, unfortunately, her new target is you.

“Were you too busy answering prayers, angel?” A thick british accent breaks you out of your trance, making you jump in surprise.

“More like digging myself up from hell.” You say, giving her a plastered grin before taking a sip of the champagne that rests in your hand.

“I’ll have you one day, you know.” Leah states confidently, earning herself a sharp glare from you in which she only returns with a cocky smirk.

Not even wanting to argue with the girl, you scoff and walk over to where Lia and Mariona sit and join them in conversation. You’d never admit this to the blonde, not wanting to make her ego swell bigger than it anyway is, you used to have the biggest crush on her before you transferred to Arsenal.

You always found the blonde extremely attractive, especially on the pitch, but when you finally met her and found out about her off-the-pitch affairs, your crush faded away.

“You still there, amiga?” Mariona asks softly, noticing your silence.

“Yes, of course. Sorry, just a bit distracted.” You smile apologetically, twisting the glass in your hand for distraction.

“No need to apologize, but if I may, does this have anything to do with a certain english blonde defender?” Lia smirks teasingly as you roll your eyes and shake your head rapidly.

“Absolutely not. You know my feelings about that, Lia.” The swiss girl allows the conversation to disappear although she doesn’t believe you one bit.

—

“Next question, what is everyone’s favorite christmas song?” Kim asks the team who all are huddled around in the living space, you coincidentally smushed on a loveseat with Leah.

Many shouts are thrown across the room from voices trying to top each other, debating on what christening song is the ultimate song, including your voice.

Noticing the girl next to you zoning out and not participating, you bump your shoulder into hers, asking, “What about you? What’s your favorite christmas song?”

“Rockin’ around the christmas tree.” Leah nods in confidence.

“Why that one?” You immediately regret asking when that familiar cocky grin stretches along the older girl’s face.

“Because I know I can rock your world when you finally let me.” She whispers, leaning closer to you so no one else can hear, and quickly snapping back when you push her in disgust, making the girl chuckle and take a sip of her drink.

Many hours pass by with more questions, movies, karaoke, and so on before people start to trickle out to head back to their destined homes. It was only you and a few people left, cleaning up the snacks that were on display and garbage littered in small areas.

Leaning against the wall of the archway, someone clearing their throat grabs your attention next to you. You quickly see the blonde locks and huff in annoyance before turning back to look at what you were.

She taps your shoulder and points above the two of you, causing you to scoff when you notice the holiday plant hanging down by a string. Leah’s white teeth shimmer at you before puckering her lips and making exaggerated kissy noises.

“Just because we are under a mistletoe does not mean I have to kiss you.” You declare, watching the older girl with squinted eyes.

“Afraid you may enjoy it, darling?” Leah questions, pulling herself off the wall and moving slightly closer to you with a wide grin plastered on her face.

A weird shock runs through your body from hearing her husky tone, but you shake it off as the thought of a cold shiver. You swiftly look around to make sure no one is around before closing the gap between you and Leah, grabbing her arms and placing them on your hips while yours wraps around her neck.

The blonde’s smile fades and instead is replaced with a huge face of shock.

“I know I’ll enjoy it. I have been dreaming of you railing me into the mattress over and over again, having your way with me on every surface of every room, and making my legs shake violently with every orgasm you give me.” You whisper, lips brushing against the girl’s ear as her hands grip your hips together with every word.

“Yeah?” Leah’s voice shakes.

“Oh yeah, but this won’t ever happen except in your daydreams.”

With that, you down the rest of the drink in your hand and strut off to help Kim with the rest of the cleanup, leaving the defender in complete bewilderment and arousal.

Merry christmas indeed.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #katie mccabe #kim little #lia walti #mariona caldentey #woso x reader #woso fic #woso imagine #woso #emily fox

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urhoneycombwitch · 2 months ago

Text

heart like a hearth

roommate!Eddie x roommate!Reader it's the holidays, and goddamn everyone is home- you and Eddie haven't had a moment alone in weeks. good thing you know a boy with a van and an alibi...

foreword: Roommates!au cinematic universe expands: extended family unlocked! YES this was supposed to come out over the holidays NO I won’t be changing the setting but don’t worry it’s not overly/grossly Christmas-y. as one anon astutely pointed out, this Reader tends to be the most OCD of all my Reader iterations so I hope her actions/line of thinking reflects this disorder and not just due to being an ass, yanno? happy readin’ <3

cw: drinking, smoking, weed usage, R is related to Max (no specificity), R is referred to with a few fem nicknames (girl, princess etc.), van fucking (secluded spot!), fingering, oral (R receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected PiV, brief argument, angst (resolved), R plays feelings close to the chest

wc: 8.1k

___

Eddie’s been shockingly well-behaved recently, and you’d almost think it’s due to the looming threat of a Naughty List if it weren’t for the simple fact that he hasn’t had time to behave otherwise.

The last few weeks leading up to Christmas have been, so far, a whirlwind of constant noise and color. Your and Eddie’s apartment is conveniently central enough from various friends and family, and the two of you have been blindingly busy playing hosts.

Your cousin, Max, came by train last week, along with her best friend, El, and a ragtag group of Eddie’s former D&D minions. Three whole days of cheesy holiday crafts, winter movies, and braiding the girls’ hair while Eddie ran a gripping oneshot campaign; giving way to late evenings, El and Max sharing the pullout couch while the boys took up what little was left of the floorspace like cozy little sardines.

No time after the kids were sent off, either- Robin was insistent on making you a proper boozy eggnog from her heirloom recipe, which had Nancy offering to bring her famous chocolate crinkles, and just like that, you were signing up to throw another party.

The Best Ever Eggnog Bash (Robin’s titling) has been raucous fun so far- Eddie paid all the neighbors off with various gifts of booze, weed, and/or Wheeler’s cookies, so last night, the karaoke machine got turned up to ten and much spiked (Best-Ever) eggnog was imbibed.

Everyone was either too inebriated or too tired to drive afterwards, so an impromptu sleepover was called for- blankets tugged from all corners of the apartment again to make soft sleeping pallets for Robin and Nancy, while the rest of the boys (Jon, Argyle, and Steve) passed out like a pile of puppies on the couch.

In the morning, it only seemed natural to keep the party going- Robin had planned to stay through the weekend, anyways, and everyone else was loath to cut short their holiday break.

Around lunchtime, Jeff and Gareth showed up with instruments in hand, expecting a rehearsal session but were instead greeted with plates of grilled cheese and a knotted ball of lights that no one had been able to untangle yet.

They’re in the corner of the living room, now, bickering over the sound of a Crosby record as Jeff loops the string of lights around Gareth’s waiting hands.

Jon and Steve are sharing a joint on the couch, giggling at a test pattern on the TV screen; Vicki, Robin, and Argyle are in various states of lap-sitting and stool sharing at the breakfast bar, a wasteland of cookie decorating ephemera spread across the counter.

“I think we did this backwards,” Nancy says, thoughtful and amused, passing you a freshly-cooled plate of gingerbread men. “Should’ve saved the alcohol for after the fine motor skill activities.”

“And deny the elves this simple joy?” You reply, sardonic and equally amused, setting the plate in front of your friends. Robin’s eyes light up, and Argyle nearly spills a whole flute of tequila in his haste to stake claim.

“The frosting will make you sick if you keep eating it,” Nancy cautions, but Robin’s already stuck the spoon in her mouth, pulling her choice of cookie in close and muttering with dogged determination to a blushing Vicki- “Gonna make you the best gingergirl ever. Seriously. It’s gonna blow your socks off.”

Longsuffering, Nancy sighs and leaves to check the oven. Eddie whirls into the living room hoisting a clear tub of board games above his head that rattles as he shakes it, truimphant- “Found it. I’m about to Dutch Blitz you into the next century, Harrington.”

“I wanted to play Boggle,” Steve whines, but his protests are quickly swallowed by the swarm of helping hands rearranging the living room; all the furniture gets pushed to the edges while Eddie deals in players on the carpet.

Something about Eddie is particularly magnetic today- he’s wearing this maroon knit sweater gifted from his uncle, lean biceps flexing under soft fabric whenever he leans to place a card. The deep red is a great color on him, contrasting so nicely with his wild dark curls and glinting silver rings; so nicely, in fact, that you’re driven to distraction, ogling him openly from your spot mixing icing by the sink.

The thing about Eddie behaving himself? It’s kind of driving you crazy.

You’re used to the bickering, the good-natured arguments, Eddie pushing your buttons until you snap or bend. You were expecting at least some skirting of the Rules- sneaking into your room after all your guests were asleep, maybe leaving a hickey that couldn’t be explained away- but he hasn’t progressed past fleeting, friendly touches and interactions.

(Well. Except the other night at the bar. But you’re sure everyone was too tipsy to see under the table, his hand inching up your skirt...)

And then, with stunning clarity- you realize you miss him. Like, you actually, truly, miss Eddie. He’s sat on a carpet just a few steps away, profile softly backlit from a nearby candle, and you’re aching to be closer.

As if tuned in to your frequency, Eddie looks up to catch your eye. Time and noise fade into the background of your thoughts; for a moment, it’s just you and him.

Just a few more days, you think, trying for telepathy. Then it’ll be just us again.

He gives you a wink from across two rooms, and the grin breaks on your face before you can think to stop it.

___

Later in the afternoon, you’re using the only available sink in the bathroom to wash frosting from your hands when Eddie pokes his head around the partially-open door.

“Hey. We gotta go to PJ’s.”

He’s wearing his black leather jacket, your puffed winter coat folded over one arm, ringed hand curled around the doorframe as you finish drying your hands.

“I can do a snack run.” Agreeable, you take the proffered coat to put on. PJ’s Corner Store is less than two blocks away, but if you send Eddie out alone into the big world with a simple task there’s no telling when he’ll be back. “I’ll be quick, you stay and host.”

This last word ends on a tease as you zip the warm coat up to your chin, Eddie following your lead into the hallway even as he shakes his head. “Nah, that’s no good We’re out of cigarettes, too- stole Emerson’s last one.”

“Hey,” Gareth squawks from the kitchen, mouth full of gingerbread.

“You shouldn’t be smoking ‘em, anyways, kid,” Eddie says, sagely, sticking the filter of a fresh cig between his teeth even as he lectures.

“Well apparently we’re going to PJ’s,” you announce, hooking a thumb at Eddie behind you in a gesture of it can’t be helped, while inside you’re buzzing with the possibility of walking with just Eddie. Two blocks there and back, all that quiet snow…

There’s some protest at both hosts abandoning the party until everyone learns that the corner store has snacks, and then you’re fielding a barrage of requests and organizing spare change and crumpled bills into your pocket.

Eddie meets you by the front door, walking backwards while giving Nancy strict instructions for holding down the fort- “Don’t let those shitheads in my room, Wheeler, I’m counting on you to preserve state secrets-” -then he reaches past your head for the coat rack, pulling the length of Robin’s green scarf from its hook before wrapping it snug around your neck.

As he tucks the frayed ends into your coat, you notice the glint of van keys that he must’ve palmed silently from the other hook.

“Thought we were going to PJ’s,” you whisper.

Eddie pulls his hands away but not before trailing his fingers against the bare side of your neck, leaving a cascade of goosebumps in their wake, and replies in the same low, conspiratorial tone- “Who says we’re not?”

Finally, after scattered last requests you’re borne out into the cold on a wave of cheery goodbyes. The second the door shuts, Eddie’s tugging at your coat sleeve.

“Let’s go.” The order is gentle but weighty enough that your swirling questions are quelled, for the time being- you follow close on Eddie’s heels down the building stairs, boots crunching into the layer of fresh snow as he leads you across the parking lot.

At the van, Eddie carves ice from the windshield, strong arm moving the scraper in a solid arc. You hazard a glance at the apartment windows, an internal sigh of relief when you realize Eddie had parked on the west side out of view.

“Not really sure what your angle is, here.” You’re not trying to poke the bear, this time, you’re just genuinely confused and a little on edge, unused to taking a backseat where planning is concerned.

Eddie doesn’t answer, and you follow him to the other side of the windshield as he continues scraping, talking all the while. “I just mean- we can’t be gone long. Nancy’s responsible enough but if she starts drinking, too, then all bets are off. And it’ll probably look weird, you know, if it’s just you and me gone for so long. And we really should get snacks-”

“We will,” Eddie says, interrupting for the first time to open the passenger side door. “In you get.”

Eddie loads you into the van (rather like a dog, you think, petulantly clicking your seatbelt), then gets in himself, turning on the engine to blast vented heat throughout the van.

The speakers crackle to life, and as Eddie turns onto the main road you fiddle with the radio dial until soft, instrumental Christmas music plays on low- a welcome respite from the weekend’s cacophony of noise.

You’re a little sad to be missing out on what would’ve been an extended walk; the roads are clear, and in less than two minutes, PJ’s appears down the street like a beacon, lights from the OPEN sign glowing against a backdrop of white.

Sad, that is, until Eddie drives past PJ’s.

“Eddie.”

A direct response to the note of warning in your voice, Eddie keeps his eye on the road but reaches for your hand (previously, tightened into a fist around your jeans).

Once you allow his fingers to weave between yours, Eddie uses the stoplight as an opportunity to turn towards you, thumb brushing over the tops of your knuckles as he asks, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” The answer comes so easily- you didn’t even have to consider an alternate option. Your trust is not something simply given, and Eddie knows it; there is still this lingering part of you, though, that wants to push back.

As a sort of self-protection, a longing for the familiar, you ready an argument. “But-”

“Nope!” Eddie interrupts, tugging at your hand in his grasp, almost jolly in his denial. “No comebacks. No skirting. I wanna hear you say it.”

The light turns green, but with no cars in at least a mile radius, Eddie’s foot stays firm on the brake, his bright, intense gaze fixed on you.

You have a sudden urge to dash yourself against the passenger side window, or maybe to jerk the car door open and roll out onto the dirty snow of the sidewalk. A stifling, panicked feeling that would be overwhelming if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie is watching you so tenderly, even while the wheels of your mind work overtime.

A brief few seconds that feel like an age, and then, with a squeeze of his hand, words that take shape and form in a voice quiet but sure- “I trust you, Eddie.”

His grin is wide, even as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, dropping your hand in favor of the wheel as the van resumes its speed. “Atta girl. Wanna show you a place.”

The van cuts a smooth path up a sloping westward street, warm holiday lights from the row of houses reflecting colors in the snow. There’s another stop sign at the top of the hill, and Eddie turns left again, steadily climbing, until the road flattens out.

A road sign declaring DEAD END looms and then passes your window; at the same time, the paved road turns to gravel. Not for the first time, you’re grateful that Eddie learned to drive on the harsh backroads of his native Tennessee hometown- it means he’s adept at guiding the van through a wintered forest to get to the other side.

The other side turns out to be well worth the wait. The snowy boughs of thickened trees give way to a clearing, and Eddie parks a safe distance away from the edge of the hill while still close enough for you to take in the view.

You unbuckle, leaning into your forearms on the dash for a better look, a soft exhale of exclamation- “Wow.”

It’s a spectacular sight- the city sprawls in shining white, pinpricks of winking lights everywhere that make the whole thing look like a blanket of sequins.

You’re keenly aware of the fact that Eddie isn’t looking at the view, he’s watching you take it in for the first time; you throw him a bone, flopping back into your seat with a sweet smile just for him- “Killer spot. Almost worth the adrenaline of thinking you were gonna axe murder me the whole time.”

Eddie scoffs, shrugging his jacket off and tossing it into the depths behind his seat. “You know I prefer a sword as my murderous weapon of choice. Smoke?”

A hand-rolled joint sits between his fingers, your arched eyebrow in response, incredulous- “Seriously? How much time do you think we have?”

“At least three hours,” Eddie says, confidently, straightening his legs into the footwell to fish the lighter from his front jeans pocket. “I showed Nance where the weed brownies are and told her to go crazy.”

With the movement of his legs, the red sweater rides up, a strip of tantalizing milky stomach and smattered trail of dark hair immediately burning itself into your brain. You swallow against the dryness in your throat, questioning even as he lights up- “When the hell did you have time to bake?”

“I have my ways.” Eddie inhales. Smoke pours from his nostrils, the whites of his teeth when his head swivels to catch your eye. “Made a batch while you and the kids were out. Our dear guests will be blind to time, trust me.”

“I do,” you insist, hot shock of fluster in your chest, shedding your own jacket that joins Eddie’s with a harsh throw before deciding you actually can’t let this one go. “I just… did you forget El’s dad is a cop? Like, badge and everything.”

“So?”

If Eddie wasn’t smoking, you’d be half as distracted- he’s in his natural element, knees spread, head lolling on the seatback, a hazy cloud around the loose black curls that settle and shift on his shoulders.

“So, you should maybe be more careful. You’re really not worried about getting caught with contraband out on your- on our counters, for that matter?”

It’s an argument quickly losing steam as the air grows heady with weed; Eddie takes another drag before reaching to stick the end of the joint between your lips. “Why would I worry when you’ve clearly got that covered for the both of us?”

Your brows knit together, a thunderous expression fixed on its target as you take a drag, baring your teeth on the exhale. Eddie chuckles, eyes already lightly red-rimmed as he watches, coos, “My little dragon.”

“I’m serious.” The joint is pinched between your own fingers now, but when Eddie reaches for it, you move quicker, holding it out of reach. He pouts, draping himself with dramatics over his armrest as you shake your head- “Eddie.”

He acquiesces, a goofy, deep forward-tipped bow that sends tendrils of his hair swinging across the knees of your jeans, one of his big hands wrapping around your upper thigh to steady himself. “Sweetheart. Y’know I always kid-proof my shit. I solemnly swear my allegiance to your best judgement.”

Eddie knows just what to say and do to diffuse your temper- you can’t be mad or annoyed with the crown of his head practically in your lap, supplicative and good-natured.

You take another lungful of smoke, this one traveling direct to the contours of your brain, dampening the stress and lighting up the sensation of Eddie’s hand on your leg.

“Bring me here just to smoke?” Your free hand lifts, sets itself on the top of Eddie’s head- you note the way his shoulders stiffen slightly, the way his fingers curl tighter into the doughy flesh of your thigh. “Or did you have other, more nefarious intentions?”

Eddie dips so low his lips touch just near his thumb, warm breath of his groan seeping into your skin even despite the layer of denim. His other hand grasps your hip, subtly pulling you closer to the edge of your seat. “Yeah. I intend to break Rule Two in a major way.”

Oh, right. The rules. ‘Apartment as neutral territory’ being one of them.

The joint sputters when you take a final hit, a small hiss when you snuff the end into the ashtray tucked snugly in a cupholder, leaning over the expanse of Eddie’s stretched spine notched through his sweater. “The van counts in my book. As far as neutrality goes.”

Perking up like a kid at Christmas, Eddie lifts his head, still half in your lap but chocolate eyes shining with hope (and no small amount of lust)- “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It’s all the encouragement Eddie needs to make his move, pulling with intention now until you’re out of your seat and in his lap, knees on either side of his hips, pelvis settling into the crook of his own where a familiar hardness can be felt.

Eddie attaches himself to your neck, kissing desperately down the column as you arch into him, hands roaming down your back, another breaching past the hem of your top to feel your ribs.

“Fuck.” Already breathy and it’s been ten seconds. It should be embarrassing but it simply isn’t, not with the way Eddie’s finding his way to your bra, cupping and squeezing over the soft fabric like it’s all he’s been thinking about. “What’s got you so worked up?”

“Been weeks, princess.” His breath slides hot over the wet marks he’s leaving, teeth nipping at your collarbone, a soft groan when your hands find their way back to his hair, fisting around the soft anchor of his curls.

Eddie’s other hand not busy with your breast slides to the front of your jeans, a deft maneuver as he pops the button and slides his fingers past the elastic of your underwear; a hoarse, choked moan when he feels the slick accumulated there.

In awe, he draws his hand up and out, leaning back just to hold it up for the both of you to see in the soft backlighting of the dash. As his ringed fingers separate, stickiness glistens and webs between the digits.

Chest heaving, cheeks burning, you shrug, feigning casual even with fistfuls of his hair in your grasp- “Like you said. It’s been weeks.”

Eddie puts his hand back where it belongs, between the apex of your thighs that automatically try to snap closed as his fingers hit against your clit like a pulsing homing beacon, just for him. He works you up quickly, panting and wet noises the only companion to the wintry silence, like you’re the only two people in the whole city.

He slips two fingers past your entrance, curling them just right, hitting against that spongy spot that makes your legs tremble and pulls a warbled moan from the back of your throat.

Your arms resting on his shoulders spasm with the mounting pleasure, unintentionally bringing Eddie’s face in line with your breasts (an angle he’s more than happy to take, giving your other breast some mouthy attention through the layers).

“I’m- oh, fuck me- fuck, Eddie. I’m close.”

Your body responding far faster than normal (it really has been weeks, after all), the falling is fast approaching, heel of Eddie’s pumping hand hitting perfectly against that fizzing bundle of nerves.

That tight resolve is worming its way in- you don’t want this to end. You want Eddie’s mouth on your chest, his fingers warmed to your core temperature, you want it always.

He can tell, because he always can, when you’re holding back; the small, subtle ways in which your body stiffens and tries to restrain itself.

Eddie tries to play stern, even as his cock throbs painfully, pinned under your squirming thigh- “Don’t hold back, sweetheart. You know I’ll give you another one. C’mon. Let it go.”

It’s all the encouragement you need. The coiling tension snaps in a sparking, roiling heat, gushing around Eddie’s steady and quick tempo; hopefully this spot is as soundproof as it feels, out here at the edge of the world, a sharp, whining cry as you come and fall apart.

The aftershocks cause full-body tremors, while Eddie soothes with hands and voice, murmuring praises and calling you names that make your head spin like “good girl” and “sweet thing”.

Panting, you manage to lift your forehead off Eddie’s while his hands drop to your hips again- he looks fucking wrecked. Hair sticking up at the back thanks to your handiwork, pupils blown so wide the black is swallowing the gentle brown, a blush of pink at his cheeks. With a crooked smile, he asks- “Gonna let me top this time?”

A call and response, one that shakes a giggle from your shivery lungs- “I’ll think about it.”

Eddie gasps in phony surprise. “Wow, it really is Christmas.”

Rolling your eyes, stamina returning, you pat the tops of Eddie’s shoulders before using them to push yourself from his lap. The cry of his protest is short lived once he realizes you’re just moving to the back of the van, arranging the two discarded jackets for extra padding.

You make quick work of your shirt and have just shoved the waist of your jeans down to mid-thigh when a loud thunk startles you into looking up- in his eagerness to get back here with you, Eddie’s foot got caught in his seatbelt.

He curses, lying flat on the floor of the van looking like a gangly marionette while trying to yank his foot free. Your laughter has him twisting to watch, head tilting back to try and catch your eyes until he lurches free with an oof.

Disentangled on his hands and knees, Eddie frowns when he sees the kicked-aside pile of your jeans and top, and starts with whiny reproach- “Heyyy. I was supposed to do that part. You-”

In a single swift move, you twist the clasp of your bra and shove it off, revealing the full sight of your breasts to the end of Eddie's stopped sentence. He gets with the program after that, expeditious to the point of humor, stripping down to just boxer shorts as you lie back on your elbows, body molding to the comfort of padded flooring.

“That sweater really does look insane on you,” you comment, the rich red a blur as it’s flung to the corner. “Couldn’t stop staring, earlier.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie’s brows waggle a suggestive dance as he crawls forward, stretching out over your supine form, kissing between the valley of your breasts. “I’ll send Uncle Wayne my regards.”

“Maybe no blood relative talk right now,” you gasp out, his lips forming a suction over your left nipple.

A wet pop as he moves to the other, considering- “Probably a good call.”

In what is quickly becoming a familiar facet of sex with Eddie, he can’t seem to stay away from your pussy for long. Ever since the first time you fucked, Eddie’s been lightly obsessed with figuring out your body, all the ways in which it can tick and sing for him alone- and he’s proven to be a quick study.

Drawn like a magnet, his lips leave damp patches as he kisses his way down your torso, across your stomach; you’re heaving with unsteady, anticipatory breaths as Eddie’s teeth catch at the band of your undies, as his hands pull-slip them down your thighs and off.

You’ve never felt more well and truly fucked, in every sense of the word, than when Eddie’s mouth is on your cunt.

It’s an art form, really- the particular attention he pays to all the small hotspots you didn’t even realize were a thing: the bony bridge between inner thigh and pelvis where your femoral artery whooshes in response to his canines; the tender skin just under your weeping hole that makes everything clench when his tongue deftly prods.

Fucked, as in where the hell else am I ever gonna have it this good; conversely, fucked as in can’t possibly hold onto that thought with his tongue where it is.

His hands can never agree on a favorite place, usually taken to roaming about your body- this time, his right rests solid on the softness of your stomach, keeping the rolling wave of your body at the mercy of his lips while the other hand squeezes the fat of your upper thigh in a tight grip.

It’s impossible to stop the cacophony of sounds that spill out, nearly drowning out the slick noises of Eddie familiarizing himself with the inside of your cunt; sharp gasps, moans, a cry as he dips back in, out again, thighs shaking, closing around the silver hoops that line the shell of Eddie’s ears.

When his clever mouth moves up to pull the aching bead of your clit into a suction, the space between your ears goes white as the damn snowscape outside.

“Jesus fuck, Eddie. Oh, my god- don’t stop. Please don’t stop, that feels-”

In response, Eddie moans, sucking harder, taking his hand from your thigh to fit two fingers into you, wall of muscle swallowing him greedily. Your spine arches from the padded floor, heels digging in where your legs are slung over Eddie’s shoulders, hand burying itself in the soft crown of Eddie’s hair.

“Oh- fuck, fuck, Eddie- Eddie, Eddie…”

There’s a distant awareness that you’re babbling but you know Eddie likes it, loves that he’s the one making you fall apart past the tight boundary of sound you usually keep; the pads of his fingers coast against the front wall of your cunt once, twice, and your second orgasm of the evening hits with the force of a freight train.

The pleasure wracks through your frame, fevered flush sparking down to the tips of your toes as it moves through your seizing muscles. Your hips jolt upwards, a pleasant counter pressure when Eddie’s hand on your stomach stays firm, keeping your pelvis aligned so there’s not a moment away from his mouth.

Eddie’s tongue draws out the feeling on your pulsing clit while his fingers stay at that perfect angle, driving into you with the same fast-patterned stroking that keeps your rapture spiraling. The pleasure starts to ebb but still he laps at you, head shaking back and forth like a dog, pinning your wrist to the floor when you squirm and seize up, foggy and helpless to the flow of euphoria.

He pauses, finally, your body going lax the instant his mouth leaves to start kissing his way back up your stomach. In the waning light from the back van windows, Eddie’s chin is shimmering with your slick.

You have a sudden, desperate need to kiss it off him. Rule Number Four be fucking damned, you want to kiss this boy, full on the mouth. Unbelievable you’ve both stuck to it for so long- the desire welling within is something two orgasms can't begin to touch.

Would it be so bad… your heart pounds, blood chorus singing through your veins as Eddie gets closer, crawling up your body. Your better judgement is not at play here, dizzy and sick with affection, reaching up to touch the black-inked wyvern on his bicep, tangling the fingers of your other hand into the chain of the swinging guitar pick necklace.

The interior of the van has warmed with the heat of your combined bodily movements, but when Eddie shoves his boxers down and off you could swear the temperature spikes three degrees at least.

Eddie’s mostly focused on both of your lower halves, a ringed hand at the ditch of your knee pushing it towards your chest, spreading you open that much further to line up at your entrance- so he doesn’t see the way you’re looking at him. The way your eyes are drinking in every bead of sweat, every contour of his bowed head and tight shoulders.

With his other hand planted on the floor of the van just by your ear, Eddie uses the extra stability to drag his cock through your soaked folds, using your spend to coat the heavy tip and generous length.

The hand under your knee cinches tight, Eddie hissing through his teeth- “Shit. So wet. S’all for me, sweet thing? Hm?”

“Yeah.” You’re struck dumb with wanting, unable to play coy, urging Eddie in closer with a heel at the small of his back. “All yours. Please-”

A sharper tug than you intend shortens the silver lead, hauls Eddie’s face shockingly close to your own, his breath puffing out tantalizingly close to your lips, lashes blinking rapidly in surprise against your cheek.

“Okay,” Eddie murmurs, voice husked, sheathing himself into your cunt with achingly slow precision. “Okay, sweetheart. All mine.”

His forehead bumps gently into yours with each small thrust as he tests the waters, holding back even still, making sure your body is ready (a moot point as you feel wet enough to fill an inflatable pool by now).

The thick head of his cock slides against that innermost spot, your knees rising to cage in the sides of Eddie’s torso; he lifts his head from yours just far enough to be able to see your face when his thrusts pick up intensity.

Somewhere, there’s a loose hinge in the van that squeaks with each movement, grounding you with each rock of Eddie’s hips, each push and pull and delicious drag of his throbbing cock. Other noises, too: like your open-mouthed moaning, and the short ones Eddie makes each time he slams into you, exhale of breath halfway between a grunt and a sigh, his dark eyes still dancing over your face.

The pleasure is building again, everything mounting and climbing up to that peak. Eddie chokes out a “fuck” as the channel of your cunt squeezes him vice-like, hips faltering, rhythm skipping beats.

It’s impossible to hold on to any one thought, fragments swirling along with all those firing synapses- the fresh layer of snow on the roads, coating the pine trees, the slatted roofs. Eddie’s chipped Garfield mug next to yours on the counter at home.

Eddie’s fringed bangs, stuck to his forehead with sweat; the mole on his left peck, the freckle above his second rib; Eddie’s lips, the bottom one plush and dark from being bitten and abused by his own front teeth; Eddie’s lips-

In the end, you’re not sure if it’s the pull of your hand in the chain, or the fact that Eddie was already ducking down towards you again.

What you do know is that it feels a whole lot better coming on Eddie’s cock when his mouth is on yours.

As far as first kisses go, this one is sloppy, wet with spit and tasting of your cum, Eddie’s noise of shock quickly turning into a vibrating groan as he kisses you back. His tongue is still coated in a layer of your slick but once you suck that away you finally get a pure taste, for the first time, of him. Of Eddie.

It’s this thought that freefalls you headlong into orgasm, taking Eddie with you, bottom lip taking the pinch of Eddie’s teeth as he comes, too, warmth blooming as his cock spits out weeks’ worth of pent-up release.

“Fucking hell,” Eddie says against your lips, enjoying the novel feeling while trying to regain his breath. “Jesus christ. You okay? Was that- I mean, it was good?”

In the honeyed afterglow, you press a palm into Eddie’s cheek, relishing in the fact that you can feel his smile when you reply, honest, “Very good. The best.”

As if unsure he’s allowed to now that the moment has passed, Eddie doesn’t kiss you on the lips again, instead planting a chaste but no less adoring one on your cheek. Carefully, he sits up, then helps disentangle your body from the weave of his own.

Your head swims as you take the proffered hand to sit up, arms automatically crossing over your chest; Eddie digs through the clothes pile and offers you things one at a time; underwear, bra, a sock, then the other, quiet and attentive until you’re fully dressed.

The dampness between your thighs is vaguely uncomfortable but nothing can be done about it until you’re back at the apartment. You sit cross-legged on the padding of Eddie’s coat, blinking at the boy gathering his clothes until he catches you and grins back, softly.

Eddie asks, like he can read your mind, “Still okay?”

At the base of your throat, something stings. “Um. I don’t know.”

Eddie’s mass of black curls pops through the opening of his sweater, which he shifts to jam his arms into. “Don’t know if you’re okay? Or…”

The sentence hangs in the air as Eddie looks at you, partially dressed in his boxers and Christmas sweater, looking flushed and curious and adorable. The stinging moves to the corners of your eyes, fingers tangling into each other with nerves and plummeting hormones.

“I’m okay, I’m just- I’m just sorry.”

Eddie snorts, like the idea is ridiculous, shaking the wrinkles out of his jeans- “For what? Being crazy hot? Can’t fault you for that, babe, kind of the whole point.”

The tears that are threatening to spill aren’t allowing you to join in on the jokes, not yet. Same as earlier, your voice quavers, brows drawing together as you stare at your twisting hands- “Sorry for kissing you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Eddie’s tone is faux chipper, like kissing you is a totally normal occurrence that didn’t just blow his world open, doing an awkward crunch-wiggle forward to get his jeans on. “The day I accept an apology for one of your kisses is the day I should be sent to the guillotine. Without trial.”

The brand of his lips hasn’t left yet, your tongue poking out without permission to swipe over your bottom lip, skin buzzing and still tasting like him. “We- I should at least try to stick to the rules.”

Was the kiss your doing, though? The way he was looking at you, just before you pulled him in- almost like he was waiting for it. Waiting to kiss you-

Still in a jovial post-sex mood, Eddie buttons his pants and perches on a spare amp box in the corner, boots sitting between his socked feet. “Sure thing. Just, ah, running the stats here- I don’t think the evidence stacked against our very epic but very secret dalliance is bound to be hidden for long.”

“Right.” This, at least, is a normal topic of conversation, hearkening back to the times of ten minutes ago before a kiss fucked everything sideways.

You lift a hip to pull Eddie’s coat out from underneath, folding it over an arm just to have something to do. “Well, there’s always an alternate explanation. I’m getting good at those, y’know- borrow a tasteful scarf to hide hickeys. ‘I was late because of the dentist, the vet, the traffic-’”

“Always one for excuses.”

There’s not an ounce of joking in Eddie’s tone this time, enough derision to make you look up, sharp and sudden- “Excuse me?”

This time, Eddie is the first to drop his gaze first, hair falling over his face as he bends forward to fit his foot in the mouth of his boot. “Nothing.”

A hollow thunk as his heel makes contact, then he reaches for the other boot with a weary, flat laugh, shaking his head under your tense gaze. “You just- you don’t think they’ll see it? Smell it on us? All the l- the- y’know, the affection? The intimacy?”

The Word he swallowed sits in your own throat, just behind the sting. The cool tips of your fingers slot over your eyelids, Eddie’s coat in the crook of your elbow smothering your senses with spiced cologne and nicotine. Maddening.

In the dark behind your fingers, the tears gather. The Rules, once a lifeline to your structured self, now seem childish and hurtful. You say the one thing you’re able- “I’m sorry.”

Another dull thunk for his second boot, and then you hear Eddie rise, feel the soothing brush of his touch on the crown of your head as he passes- he doesn’t even sound mad. “Don’t be. S’okay.”

The handle on one of the back van doors pops, preceding a metallic creak and a rush of cool air. You drop your hands from your eyes, watching the profile of Eddie’s face against the backdrop of wintry woods as he crouches at the van’s edge, drawing in lungfuls of crisp air.

The cold leeches in, bringing with it a sense of exposure, taking all the smells and heat of sex from the coziness of the enclosure and lifting it all out to be scattered on the wind. You have a strange feeling of wanting to reach out and hold onto the last of it, as if it were tangible.

Eddie’s boots crunch into the snow, but he doesn’t go far, just steps a yard or so away. Through the single open door his back is turned, shoulders rolling, neck stretching from side to side, working out the kinks.

Longing aches through your bones; you want to bury your face into the space between his shoulder blades and breathe in that musky, rich red fabric. You don’t feel as though you’ve earned that right, somehow.

Instead, you snag your own boots and coat to jam on, joining Eddie under a sky paled with early evening light. He stands silently, eyes fixed on the trees, breath a floating cloud around his head.

You stand just as silent, shoulder to shoulder, Eddie’s black jacket still tucked in your crossed arms. Silent until you can’t bear it, bouncing on the balls of your feet against the icy wind that cools the sweat under your arms and back with a chill.

“I know you don’t want me to be, but I am. Sorry, that is. I don’t-”

The tears are back. You swallow them down, determined to loose the words from your lips, however clunky, because Eddie deserves to hear them at the very least. “I don’t know how to function without rules. Without some sort of- cage, or, like, something to hold me in, ‘cuz otherwise I-”

In answer, Eddie breaks his deer-like stillness to turn, pulling you into himself, arms wrapping you up in a solid hug. The warmth starts to creep back in as he rocks you gently, dropping kiss to the top of your head before saying- “I know. I know, honey, because I know you.”

Tears make wet tracks down your cheeks, dampening the front of Eddie’s sweater, even as you make a watery attempt at humor- “No, you don’t. Don’t even know my middle name.”

“Sure I do. Guessed it ages ago. Obviously Albert.”

His hug tightens when you sob a laugh, clinging to him, words still fighting to the surface- “I’m just, sorry, that I’m the way that I am and I can’t change it, not right now, at least, but it’s hurting you and I just am so s-”

“Honey, honey,” Eddie’s mumbling over your stream of consciousness, pressing in closer to rest his cheek on your crown. “Don’t have to be sorry. ‘M not hurting. Not from you, never from you. I like you so much-”

“I like you so much,” you sniff, pulling your head up to look at him even through the tears so he knows you mean it.

You’re met with a wide smile, a winner, the kind that shows all his teeth, bright enough to rival the snow- “Oh my god. You have a crush on me?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, pushing at his chest but weak enough that he chuckles at the effort, basking in the extra touches.

There’s an unfortunate lack of time but you take what little aftercare is afforded, hearing the thump of Eddie’s heart under your ear, relishing the feeling of his hold. Though the winter air is bitter with cold, it helps to clear your mind from the sex-weed-shame loop.

Spoken into the fibers of Eddie’s sweater- “I just… don’t want to share you yet. It’s stupid and complicated but I want it to be our thing, for a little while longer. Just us.”

“Just us,” Eddie repeats, kissing the parts of you he can reach- forehead, temple, line of scalp. “I can swing that. Not too different from now, hm?”

“It will be, though.” It’s a promise that scares you, but one you’re confident you can make in good faith. You just need some time. “Promise.”

With one last squeeze, Eddie lets you go, taking his coat from your arm to slip into, patting around for his keys and jingling them with a wink- “Your chariot awaits, princess.”

___

As it turns out, Eddie wasn’t, in fact, lying about going to PJ’s, which is why you now find yourself under the harsh fluorescents of a corner store aisle with your roommate’s cum drying in your undies.

“Snakes.”

Zoning out on the racks of candy, Eddie’s sudden word from just behind your right shoulder makes you jump.

“What?” You cast a glance backwards.

In response, Eddie’s jacketed arm brushes yours when he leans past you for a bag of gummy snakes. He’s already got an armful of various chips and a 6-pack of beers, the bottles clinking as he shifts.

“Robs won’t eat the bear kind. Said the shape makes her too sad to eat.”

You consider this, sliding a bag of peach rings off the metal line for Nancy. “But biting a snake’s head off, that’s all good and fine for a tree hugger?”

“She’s an odd duck,” Eddie agrees, wistful, plastic crinkling under those big palms that were mapping the shape of your body not twenty minutes ago.

“Well, you’d know all about that, huh?” You knock a shoulder playfully into Eddie’s side.

The look he gives you is mischievous, sparkling through the frame of long, dark lashes. “If it quacks…”

Earlier, you’d used the payphone to call home while Eddie hunted for vittles- a short drive back, but nonetheless you were anxious to know the situation you’d both be walking into.

Annoyingly, Eddie was right again- Nance sounded unusually giggly, telling you all about the epic blanket fort the boys had built under Robin’s orders, the background filled with drunken and otherwise intoxicated chatter. Not even eagle-eyed Nancy noticed the time you and Eddie spent away- all she asked about was the food supplies.

At the counter, a lone employee bags the snack fest with disinterest, retrieving Eddie’s requested pack of smokes and sorting the crumpled bills you provide with barely a word.

Eddie’s eyes keep darting to yours, nostrils flaring, hamming up the humor, and it’s getting harder not to laugh each time, corners of your mouth twisting to keep the noise from bursting out.

If there’s something funny, Eddie wants to share it with you. He’s always been generous.

In the glittering snowscape of PJ’s parking lot, Eddie plucks at your sleeve before you can open the passenger door.

“Got somethin’ for ya.”

You turn with a frown, eyeing him suspiciously- “If you just spent real money on a pack of those skeezy ‘sex pills’ from the front counter I’m actually not interested.”

“No, no, it’s-” Eddie slings the grocery bag handles to his other arm, rustling in his coat pocket to procure a small, flat parcel of brown butcher paper. “Your Christmas present. Didn’t wanna give it in front of all those other weirdos.”

There’s a loop of white string tied in a knotted bow; you smile softly, taking the gift from Eddie’s proffered hand and plucking at the string. “But- I didn’t bring yours, it’s sitting under the tree-”

“I know. It’s cool, I’ll open it day-of if you want, I just… wanted you to have this now.”

You think about the shiny new record waiting at home for Eddie as you unwrap the present with burgeoning glee- in the middle of the paper lies a circlet of weaved fabric, in varying shades of forest green and cerulean blue.

It’s not until you lift the loop into the air that you realize what it is- a friendship bracelet.

“Max and El helped,” Eddie explains, in the nervous, self-conscious way of a gift-giver. “Had a whole craft sesh while you and the boys were out ice skating. Don’t think they quite believed I was makin’ it for Jeff, but…”

He trails off. You’ve just noticed the tiny silver pendant dangling from the center of the bracelet, about the size of your pinky nail- it dances with movement, casting glints of light from its surface, the engraved E flipping in and out of sight.

“Couldn’t craft that one. Need a little more real-world metal working practice under my belt for that.” Eddie hooks a thumb in his belt loop for emphasis, rocking back on his heels. “Got it when I went to the big city last month.”

You run the pad of your finger over the engraving, feeling the grooves of the letter press up against your skin, shocked into silence.

“And- uhm, I mean, if you hate it, or if it’s, like, totally weird that I just gave you something with my initial on it-” Eddie is full of fidgety nerves, making a sweeping gesture with his hand to indicate general whateverness- “I didn’t mean it like an I own you sorta thing, you’re your own woman- person- obviously, and you can totally just throw it to the birds-”

The parking lot and nearby street is empty, but even if it wasn’t, that wouldn’t have stopped you from pulling Eddie in by the jacket collar and kissing him breathless.

He makes a little mmph of surprise, then gets with it, kissing back, letting you direct the show with a fistful of his lapel. When you pull back, his eyes are half-lidded, a lovely pink flush in his cheeks as he chases your mouth for one last kiss.

“Thank you,” you whisper, genuine, lifting your right wrist for Eddie to take- “Will you put it on me?”

With gentle dedication, Eddie fits the bracelet around your wrist and ties the ends together, silver pendant sitting perfectly at the base of your hand.

“You’re comin’ for Christmas, right?” Eddie’s taking his time with microadjustments of the fit, using the excuse to trail his long fingers around your upper arm while he’s at it. “Don’t think I officially asked you yet, just sort of assumed.”

He’s petting the inside of your forearm, almost to distraction.

“Wayne won’t mind?”

Eddie snorts, a double-squeeze to your wrist as he fiddles with the ends of the bracelet. “You kidding? Pretty sure that spiteful old man would lock me out of the damn trailer if I showed up without you.”

Despite the cold, warmth blooms through your limbs, a holiday spent with hot chocolate on the Munson couch a fortifying future indeed.

Eddie pulls your wrist to his face, meeting it halfway for a kiss before giving your hand back. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go see what damage those holiday hooligans have wrought on our apartment.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #roommate!Eddie #roommate!Eddie x reader #roommate!Eddie x roommate!Reader #smut #mdni

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nonranghaes · 4 months ago

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for a moment, you don't remember where you are. the way your head is throbbing makes you wince, the slight nausea hitting you all at once all over again. one minute you were standing in the kitchen... and the next, seungcheol had walked you to his room. you remember squinting at him in the low light as he stood in the hallway, waiting until you had laid down to close the door and go back to... whatever it was he was doing. socializing? probably socializing. you can still hear music from whatever playlist soonyoung threw together with the others, and for a moment it almost feels like the bass thumps in time with your migraine.

then you blink, and realize that mingyu's crouched by the bed. his head is resting atop his arms, and he's looking at you just as adoringly as he always does. "good morning, sleeping beauty," he teases you gently, moving to sit atop the mattress now that you're awake. "cheol said you weren't feeling well."

slowly, you begin to piece together the evening again. right. party with mingyu's friends... and he'd left your side to go do a round of karaoke with seungkwan when challenged. you'd already been feeling off then, the pressure beginning to build up as your "small headache" escalated further. you'd stepped into seungcheol's small backyard for a moment, just to try and get a little space to sit and breathe and hope that your headache wasn't turning into a migraine. and then... seungcheol found you.

("my room is the farthest away, so the noise shouldn't bother you." was what he told you, offering a hand to help you up. "you can go rest there. mingyu told me you're prone to migraines..." and he frowned as you took his hand, letting him pull you back to your feet. he's almost like a doting father as he pauses, checking you over with a concerned look in his eyes. "wait... do you need medicine? i think jeonghan keeps us well stocked... but joshua might have something hidden away, too. i'd have to ask...")

it was sweet. when mingyu slowly introduced you to his wide, wide circle of friends (some of which aren't even here tonight, otherwise seungcheol's home would really be packed), they'd taken to you like a second family--especially when they saw how serious mingyu was about you.

("he's... silly when he's with you," seokmin told you once, eyes crinkling a little as he smiled. "i think that's how we all knew.")

"i checked on you a little earlier," mingyu says, the back of his palm pressing against your forehead, just in case. "but you were asleep, so i thought i'd let you rest a little longer before we left."

"we don't have to--"

he shakes his head. "i don't like leaving you alone," he says quietly. "and... i think my friends would kill me if i stayed down there all night when you feel this bad. seungkwan was going to beat me up for letting you sleep an extra ten minutes," he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "can you walk?"

snorting a little in laughter makes your head hurt worse, but you can't help it. not when mingyu's this earnest with you. "yes, prince charming, i can still walk. it's not that bad." you move to the edge of the bed, pushing yourself up. for a moment, you sway just a little, the sleepiness still weighing your limbs, but you turn to him with a little flare as if to say see? just fine.

he shrugs off his jacket, draping it around your shoulders before slipping his hand into your own. "then let's go home."

#nonranghaes.thoughts #nonranghaes.svt #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #seventeen x you #svt x you #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x you #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #mingyu fluff

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dollishmehrayan · 4 months ago

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BATBOYS HCS ON YOUR BIRTHDAY! ── .✦

a/n: sorry if the text might be wrong because I’m currently crying a lot for personal reasons when making this so I won’t see clearly sorry! But this in honor of my birthday coming this Saturday

(Tags: batboys x birthday!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The Master of Surprises: Dick would absolutely go all out to make your birthday feel special. He’s the type to plan a surprise party, complete with all your friends and family, but he’d make sure it’s something you’d love—whether that’s a big celebration or something low-key.

Personal Touch: He’d wake you up with breakfast in bed, complete with your favorite coffee and pancakes shaped like hearts or stars. He’d probably also give you a heartfelt handwritten card that somehow manages to make you laugh and cry at the same time.

Gift: Dick is a thoughtful gift-giver. He’d get you something meaningful, like a scrapbook of your favorite memories together or that one thing you mentioned in passing months ago.

The Day: Expect lots of laughter, dancing, and maybe even a karaoke session where he serenades you with a love song in front of everyone.

Dick's Birthday Motto: “It’s your day, so we’re doing whatever you want—just don’t say skydiving.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Low-Key but Thoughtful: Jason isn’t big on flashy celebrations, but he’d still want to make the day special for you. He’d wake you up with your favorite breakfast (probably ordered from that one diner you love) and insist on spending the day doing your favorite things.

The Day: He’d take you to a quiet spot in the city—maybe a rooftop with a great view or a hidden café—and you’d spend hours just talking, eating, and enjoying each other’s company. At night, he might take you on a ride on his motorcycle.

Jason's Birthday Motto: “I’m not great at this whole birthday thing, but I’m great at loving you. So, what do you wanna do?”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The Planner: Tim would be hyper-focused on making the day perfect. He’d create an itinerary based on everything you love, down to your favorite snacks and TV shows. He’d also book your favorite restaurant weeks in advance to make sure everything goes smoothly.

Gift: Tim would give you a tech-related gift, like a custom gadget he designed himself, or something incredibly thoughtful, like a rare collector’s item tied to one of your interests.

The Day: Tim would spend the whole day focusing on you, even if it meant setting aside his work. He’d be a bit anxious at first, constantly asking, “Is this okay? Do you want to do something else?” but he’d relax once he sees you’re happy.

Tim's Birthday Motto: “Today is all about celebrating how amazing you are. And yes, I have a spreadsheet for that.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Quiet but Intentional: Damian would approach your birthday with precision and thoughtfulness. He’s not one for grand gestures, but everything he does would be meaningful. He’d probably prepare something himself, like baking a cake or making a handmade gift.

Gift: Damian would give you something deeply personal, like a portrait he painted of you or a rare artifact tied to your shared interests. If you’re into animals, he might even bring you to the zoo or introduce you to a new pet he rescued.

The Day: He’d plan something intimate and tailored to your personality, like a quiet dinner at home or a visit to your favorite museum or park.

Damian's Birthday Motto: “Birthdays are a time for reflection and celebration, and you, beloved, are always worth celebrating.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Elegant and Understated: Bruce would want to make your birthday feel luxurious without overwhelming you. He’d likely arrange a private dinner at Wayne Manor, complete with a chef and your favorite dishes.

Gift: Bruce would give you something incredibly extravagant, like a piece of custom jewelry or a trip to a destination you’ve always wanted to visit. It’s not about showing off—it’s about making you feel special and appreciated.

The Day: He’d take the day off (a rare feat for him) and spend it focused entirely on you. Whether it’s a quiet day at home or a luxurious outing, he’d make sure everything is perfect. Alfred would, of course, be involved in the planning.

Bruce's Birthday Motto: “You deserve the best, and I’ll make sure you get it.”

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melodyreads · 2 months ago

Text

Matchmaker

hamzah x reader

summary: The reader's friend has been trying make a move at Hamzah ever since she started seeing his online personality. While the reader tries to be a supportive friend, her feelings seem to be getting in the way of things. What if he feels the same?

this came to me in a dream, hope y'all enjoy

---

"Oh my god I can't do this"

It had been like this for almost an hour now.

You and your friend Holly were in the bathroom of Mandy and Martin's apartment. Music echoed in the background as Y/n leaned against the bathroom door tapping her foot as she started to get impatient.

"Seriously girl, just go talk to him. It's really not that deep, you're making it harder than it needs to be."

Y/n didn't care if she was being blunt it was what her friend needed to hear. She had always prided herself on being a good friend. Always offering to be the DD. Always listening to the boy's problems no matter how often she recommended the friend should just break up with him. So after Holly begged her to try and hook her up with Hamzah, the answer would obviously be yes. Why wouldn't it be? Being straightforward and honest came easy, so why did she feel she was holding something back.

She gripped the door handle once more, "Just follow my lead, it's all gonna work out."

Holly let out a sigh of relief, "Seriously Y/n.. what would I do without you."

Y/n flashed her a reassuring smile before turning with a more serious expression flashed her face. Y/n knew that this was Holly's first time actually meeting Hamzah, but it definitely wasn't hers.

Hamzah had been talking to Y/n over Instagram DM's for months now. From casual replies to story posts to sending each other random memes, it was easy to determine they would get along once they finally met each other at a party.

It was almost intimidating how well they got along, Y/n admired all the effort he put into his channel and how well he managed it all. Turns out, thousands of girls felt the same way.

With Holly's hand in yours, you searched for a familiar face through the crowd until you ran into Mandy.

She turned around looking surprised, "There you are! I've been searching everywhere for you two." Mandy pointed behind her, the boys have been so obsessed with that karaoke machine, I should have never purchased it."

Y/n looked past Mandy to see Hamzah and Martin singing karaoke together as if it were a competition on who could make the most noise. Hamzah wore a pink colored shirt that fit him a little too good with a hat that allowed his dark curls to peak through.

"That's a inappropriate way to describe your friend" she thought silently.

Y/n thanked Mandy before walking up to the boys with microphones. As she approached them she could feel a slight tug on her arm as she turned around to meet Holly's worried expression.

"Don't worry" she mouthed as she continued her way over to the duo. Her heart seemed to beat harder as she reached out to touch the arm of curly-haired boy. Probably due to him being the subject of the night.

As he turned to look at you, Hamzah's face practically lite up at the sight of your face.

"Y/n! Where have you been?" He reached down and hugged you with his one free hand and still held the microphone in the other. "I kept asking Mandy about where you ran off to." Y/n chuckled into the embrace. "I wasn't even gone that long,"

"Felt like ages." He muttered. Y/n tried not to think about how just one arm completely wrapped around her waist and how his fingers dug into her hips just right.

Holly cleared her throat.

"Shoot" She almost forgot why she was here.

Y/n released Hamzah with a jolt as she stepped to the side to introduce her friend, "I wanted you to meet Holly. Holly this is Hamzah, Hamzah this is Holly."

"You said that already" Holly said softly.

"Did I? Well... you get my point." Y/n looked back to Hamzah to see him he was staring back at her almost in disbelief.

Hamzah blinked, as if suddenly snapping out of a daze. His usual easygoing smirk returned, and he turned to Holly with a friendly nod.

"Hey, nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand.

Holly hesitated for a second before shaking it, her grip noticeably stiff. Y/n could feel the tension rolling off her friend, and she silently begged Holly to just relax. This was what she wanted, right?

"You too," Holly replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Y/n talks about you a lot."

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. Did she really? Before she could gauge Hamzah’s reaction, he chuckled, looking between the two girls.

"All good things, I hope?"

Y/n forced a laugh, ignoring the way her palms suddenly felt clammy. "Mostly," she teased, hoping to lighten the mood. "Except for the part where you butcher every song you sing."

Hamzah gasped dramatically. "Excuse you, I was putting on a performance. It’s about passion, not pitch."

Martin, who had been silently watching the exchange with an amused grin, finally spoke up. "Man, you’re gonna pretend like you weren’t just screaming into the mic?"

Hamzah shrugged. "I was creating a vibe."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she was grateful for the slight shift in energy. She glanced at Holly, who still looked nervous but was at least smiling now. That was progress.

"Speaking of vibes," Hamzah said, tilting his head. "You’re acting different tonight."

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. "Different how?"

His eyes searched hers, as if trying to figure something out. "I dunno," he admitted. "Just... different."

Holly laughed, breaking the moment. "Probably because she’s been hyping me up for this conversation all night."

Hamzah raised an eyebrow. "This conversation?"

Y/n winced. So much for being subtle.

"She thinks you and Holly would make a great match," Martin chimed in, completely oblivious to the way Y/n’s stomach twisted at hearing it said out loud.

For a split second, something flickered in Hamzah’s expression—too fast for Y/n to catch. Then, he smiled. "Oh yeah?"

Holly nodded quickly. "I mean, yeah. You seem cool. And I think we’d get along?"

It came out more like a question than a statement, and Y/n resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. She wanted to help, but something about this whole situation felt... off.

Hamzah glanced at Y/n again before turning back to Holly. "Well, I appreciate the intro," he said smoothly. "But I gotta admit, I didn’t expect this."

Y/n frowned. "Expect what?"

He hesitated, then grinned. "You playing matchmaker."

Her stomach dropped. There was something in the way he said it, something that made her feel like she had completely miscalculated. Before she could respond, Hamzah lifted his mic again.

"Anyway," he said, turning to Martin. "We got a song to finish."

And just like that, the moment was over.

Y/n watched as he walked away, laughing as Martin passed him the next song choice. Holly exhaled beside her.

"That wasn’t terrible," she murmured.

Y/n nodded numbly, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just shifted. And she wasn’t sure if she liked it.

The night continued as if nothing had happened. Holly chatted away, occasionally stealing glances at Hamzah, and Y/n did her best to stay present in the conversation. But her mind was elsewhere.

She kept replaying Hamzah’s words in her head. You playing matchmaker.

Why did it sound like there was something more behind them?

After a while, Holly got up to get another drink, and Martin was too busy butchering the lyrics to some 2000s throwback to notice the way Y/n was zoning out.

That’s when she felt someone slide into the seat beside her.

"Hey," Hamzah said, voice lower than usual.

Y/n turned to him with a surprised look plastered on her face. "...Hey."

He exhaled, drumming his fingers on the table. "So... Holly, huh?"

Y/n forced a smile. "Yeah. She’s great, right?"

Hamzah tilted his head, studying her. "She seems nice."

There was something careful about his tone, something measured. Y/n suddenly felt exposed, like he could see right through her.

"You don’t seem convinced," she pointed out.

He let out a soft chuckle. "It’s not that." He paused, then shook his head. "I just—I need to ask you something."

Y/n’s stomach tightened. "Okay?"

Hamzah leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you trying so hard to set me up with someone else?"

Her breath hitched. Feeling as though she had just been accused of murder. "What?"

"You heard me." His eyes searched hers, serious now. "Is it because you actually think we’d be good together? Or because you’re trying to convince yourself of something?"

Y/n’s pulse quickened. "That’s not—"

"Because if it’s the second one," he continued, his gaze unwavering, "then I need you to tell me right now."

Y/n swallowed hard. The air around them felt heavier, charged. "Hamzah, I was just trying to—"

"To ignore this?" he interrupted.

She froze.

Hamzah ran a hand through his hair, as if frustrated with himself. "Look, I wasn’t gonna say anything. I thought maybe I was imagining things. But then you tried to push me toward Holly, and all I could think was—why would you do that? Unless you were trying to avoid something."

Y/n’s heart was pounding now.

Before she could react, he reached out, gently taking her hand in his. It wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t rushed. Just quiet, steady.

"Tell me I’m wrong," he said. "Tell me there’s nothing here, and I’ll drop it."

Y/n opened her mouth, but no words came out. Because she couldn’t say it.

"What would Holly think?"

As if he could read her mind Hamzah sighed and spoke again, "Can you please stop thinking about what everyone else wants and just tell me.. what do you want?"

Y/n felt a pang of guilt matched with a sudden urge to jump on top of the boy in front of her.

Hamzah exhaled, his grip tightening just slightly. "Y/n, I like you."

The words settled between them, heavy and undeniable.

She sucked in a sharp breath. "You—"

"I like you," he repeated, softer this time. "Not Holly. Not anyone else. And I think... I think you feel the same way."

Y/n felt like the entire world had just shifted.

Because, for the first time, she couldn’t run from it.

But she was done running.

Y/n placed her hand on the side of Hamzah's face and pulled him in for a kiss that made her forget about every person that could be watching around her.

He matched her vigor as their lips moved against each other with fever. His free hand grabbed at her waist as if it would disappear if he let it go for too long while his other hand softly ran up and down the arm still cupping his face.

Y/n broke the kiss with a shaky breath as she finally spoke, "I like you too."

The moment the words left her lips, something in Hamzah’s expression shifted. Relief. Something deeper.

"You do?" he asked, as if he needed to hear it again to believe it.

Y/n let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah. I do."

A slow, lopsided smile spread across his face. "Then why were you trying to set me up with Holly?"

Y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Because I was just trying to make everyone happy. I thought... I don't know, I thought the two of you might have got along and I figured that was more important than what I wanted."

Hamzah chuckled, tugging her hand away from her face. "You really thought that would work?"

She shrugged, feeling suddenly shy. "It was worth a shot."

He shook his head, amused. "Y/n, I’ve only ever had eyes for you."

She felt her breath hitch at these words.

"From the moment we met," he continued, his voice quieter now, "it’s always been you."

Y/n felt her heart squeeze.

And as he laced his fingers through hers, Y/n realized she had been waiting too.

#hamzah fic #hamzah x reader #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah imagines #slushyvirus #slushy noobz #fanfic #imagine #reader insert #fem reader #one shot

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the-offside-rule · 1 year ago

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Daniel Ricciardo (RB Visa) - Lover

Requested: yes

Swift Series

Prompt: Daniel and international popstar Y/n accidentally get married in Vegas

Warnings: nope

Daniel woke up in his hotel room with a pounding headache, groaning as he tried to open his eyes but being blinded by the sun coming through the windows each time. He turned around, cursing to himself before his eyes widened. Y/n, the Y/n lay beside him, in just a bra. While they had met several times before and hung out with similar people, this was the last person he expected to see in his bed the morning after a race weekend. He began questioning what had happened? What had he done? Or more importantly, who had he done? Whilst Daniel sat thinking about what to say to her when she woke up, he ultimately decided to order room service and go to the bathroom to actually think.....and maybe throw up.

Y/n was awoken by a door closing quite loudly. She jumped up, looking around, her eyes had grown wife as she realised that she wasn't asleep in her room, she was in someone else's. She heard footsteps coming and turned to see who it was. "Uh... morning?" Daniel croaked, his voice scratchy from the combination of dehydration and excessive partying. Y/n grabbed the bed covers and pulled them up over her chest. "What the fuck happened?" She mumbled to herself. "Yeah, I said the same thing."

Daniel scratched his head, replying, "I wish I knew. It's all a bit of a blur." Suddenly, his eyes widened as he noticed a shiny object on his finger. "You don't think this would have anything to do with it?" He lifted his hand to show Y/n, before she looked down, spotting the matching ring. "I got married in Vegas." She was so unbelievably angry with herself. Since she was a child she dreamed of this big extravagant wedding and now she just got married in Vegas?

She looked over to Daniel as he burst into laughter. "Well, you can't get rid of me now." Daniel chuckled, his Australian accent making the situation even more absurd. "Daniel, this is not funny, I'm going to get into so much shit!" Y/n said. Daniel turned to open his big bottle of champagne as Y/n continued her rant. "You're having champagne? At this time?" Daniel walked over to the bed with a glass and sat down, handing it to her and pouring her a glass. "Why are we still here? We should go get divorced!" Y/n implored him. "You need to know where you got married first." Daniel replied, drinking the champagne from the bottle as Y/n looked on. She downed the glass quickly before grabbing the bottle from Daniel. "I need more than a glass." She mumbled, amking Daniel laugh. "I don't know why you're so upset, I'd make a great husband."

"Daniel, can we just think about what happened and then we'll get down to the details of whether or not you're a good husband?" Daniel nodded before Y/n began to think. "So chief, what happened last night?" Daniel asked, rubbing his temples in an attempt to alleviate the throbbing ache. Y/n shook her head, her expression mirroring his confusion. "I don't really remember much. We were at that bar, right?" Daniel nodded slowly, bits and pieces of their escapades starting to trickle back into his consciousness. "Yeah, we were celebrating... something." He lifted the champagne tp his lips once more before handing it over to Y/n. She frowned, trying to recall the reason behind their impromptu celebration. "Was it the points you scored? Maybe my new song got number one?"

"Maybe we just got fucking wasted." Daniel shrugged, before Y/n slapped his bare chest, making him wince in pain. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry." Y/n said. "I vaguely recall a dance-off and a questionable karaoke rendition of 'I Will Survive.'" She ran her fingers through her hair. "Oh, great," Daniel chuckled. "Classic Vegas moves." As she continued on with the possibilities, Daniel looked at the crumpled looking paper on the night stand. Daniel unfolded it tentatively, his heart sinking as he read the words scrawled across the page: Marriage Certificate - Daniel Ricciardo & Y/n Y/l/n - Las Vegas, Nevada.

Y/n's hand flew to her forehead as the reality of their situation sunk in. "Oh my God... we actually got married." Daniel let out a chuckle laugh, his mind oscillating between disbelief and amusement. "I know. I would have actually gotten you a nice ring. Maybe an expensive one?" Y/n slapped his chest again. "Yeah, it's still sore when you do that."

"Sorry, but you need to stop joking about this. It's serious!" She said. "It's really not. No one even knows." She looked to him. "We were clubbing with other drivers, surely one of them were there. Daniel went to turn on his phone, but it was dead. "Must have been to occupied to charge my phone." Daniel joked. "Yeah, getting married." Y/n replied, charging her phone. "I was thinking of starting our honeymoon." He gasped. "Are we going to have a baby Ricciardo?"

"No!" Daniel arched a brow. "Excuse me, but you would be lucky to have a child with my genes." He said, pretending to be hurt. "Yeah, and your humour." She rolled her eyes. "See? Dream team." They sat in silence for a few minutes. She expected a call from her manager at any given second. He was going to kill her. Daniel noticed how tense she was getting and turned to Y/n, holding out his hand. "Well, at least we've got one epic story for the grandkids." Y/n chuckled, taking his hand. "Yep, and a marriage certificate to prove it."

"If our managers don't call us in the next hour, they won't know and I say we go get divorced." Y/n thought about it for a moment. "I mean, if they don't know why bother? The point of us divorcing is so they get off our backs. Plus, it's broad daylight. If people see us going to the Chapel, people will find out." Daniel nodded. "So we're staying married?" Y/n smiled. "Of course. You're like the best husband I could have asked for." Daniel squeezed her hand. "Well, I say we head to the airport and get out of here." Daniel suggested, getting up. "Or we could enjoy our honeymoon with some movies?" He chuckled and sat back down, grabbing the remote control and turning Netflix on. "Sounds good. Can I?" Y/n nodded, allowing Daniel to wrap an arm around her as she leaned into him. "You're coming to Abu Dhabi, though." Daniel said. "Duh. You're going to go to the last race without your wife?"

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x y/n #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo fluff

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f1cflcfic · 13 days ago

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Won't Say I'm In Love (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) - part vi

pairing: lando norris x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n); past carlos alcaraz x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n)

summary: As a general rule, y/n does not date athletes. You've been there, done that - would not recommend. Besides, you definitely don't do love. There's no time in the world for complicated feelings when there's a career Grand Slam to be won. But what if your heart just refuses to listen?

genre: social meda/mixed au, friends to lovers

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

April 10, 2025

April 11, 2025

April 12, 2025

[Excerpt ViaPlay interview]

The Sakhir circuit means a return to familiar testing grounds. Does that mean that you feel more confident going into this race?

"I mean, yes and no. We know the challenges of the circuit, and how the car responds to them. We can adjust, but also all the other teams on the grid will be doing the same - they'll know our performance and weaknesses, too. So there's more work that goes into preparing different strategies, and coming up with adaptations to our run plans."

Are you hoping for a better result here than in Japan?

"Of course. I mean, our results there were not what Oscar or I were hoping for. Because this is a triple header, there's also very little time to linger on those feelings of disappointment - so we had to immediately get back into the mindset of Sakhir presenting a fresh opportunity for a win. I'm happy though with what we've been able to extract in qualis, so thanks to the guys and girls at the factory for all their hard work"

You did spend some time in between doing other things. How does that affect your preparation time?

"It doesn't. Having time off, creating memories with friends is a huge part of actually allowing me to race to the best of my abilities. If anything, I can get stuck in my head on all the mistakes and errors. It's nice to forceyourself out of that loop."

We did hear rumours of a karaoke party - did you sing a duet with your former teammate Carlos?

"Where'd you hear that? We celebrated Y/N's birthday in Tokyo, with a couple of drivers, yeah. I will not confirm or deny that a duet happened, but it was good, yeah. We had a good time."

Is he a better karaoke partner or a better paddock partner?

"Close, but will have to go with paddock!"

April 13, 2025

[Excerpt BBC Sport interview]

Warm welcome to Y/N L/N! How does Sakhir compare to Suzuka?

"Hi, thanks for having me. Suzuka was super special because it was the perfect excuse to spend my birthday in Japan, but I'm hoping to see a podium happen today."

What's it like for you as a spectator of a sport, rather than the one doing the sport itself?

"It's definitely different! Especially because this is a sport I've never actually participated in myself. I guess that's why I'm also feeling even more nervous. And I've never seen them win, so maybe today's the day."

There's a lot of eyes on you - does that make going to major events like this a different experience as well? Knowing that so many people out there have a vested interest in who you're supporting, what you're wearing, saying, or spending your time with?

"A vested interest? Have not heard that one before. I mean, I don't really spend time scrolling on social media, or reading headlines about myself. I just like spending the little free time I do have with my family and friends - it's very boring, really."

It's interesting, because the FIA has been quite strict in how drivers may express themselves but at the same time also assigns media duties to them. Is that similar in tennis?

"I mean, yes - we do have code violations as well as media obligations. In my view, journalists tend to forget that their translating of stories goes both ways. Sometimes I'll get asked a question about something that's happened online, and I think I'd have been better off not knowing about it at all. We get briefed by our own teams, but a lot of athletes aren't chronically online on purpose. Hate, abuse, death threats - you name it, I've seen it. Especially as a woman. I wish I could be cheering for a woman in Formula 1 today, but I can't. And it's in part because of this unhealthy, sexist environment that's so prevalent in sport. So I'll make do with two great and dear friends, who I know care about this sport and fair, equal opportunities a great deal."

read part vii here.

A/N: well, this turned out a lot longer than expected, so next stop is Madrid and a healthy serving of delusion, misunderstandings and mixed emotions :)

♥ likes, comments, reblogs and asks are always very much appreciated - i love chatting and hearing your thoughts! ♥

taglist (open): @linnygirl09 @julesbog @midnight-and-books @sarx164 @obxstiles @freyathehuntress @vhkdncu2ei8997 @berrnuu @lightdragonrayne @glow-ish @batsratswrites @blushmimi @lazybot

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me-writes-prompts · 1 year ago

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:-"We make a great pair, really" Goofy lovers prompts-:

(Alright, alright, no one's done this before(till I know) so im about to make history y'all!!! lets do this ;)

By @me-writes-prompts

"Why aren't we making out yet? We're 5 minutes into an argument, 5 minutes! Goodness."

Playing pranks on each other that they know will get the other one absolutely boiling and they can't be more thrilled for it

When they both have the habit of talking during movies and literally having an hour long discussions about a character they both hated

"You look so hot today, babe." "Hotter than yesterday?" "Hotter than yesterday."

Always finding ways to have fun i.e wearing costumes and playing around, hosting parties.

"If we were to fight, like in a fight fight, who do you think would win?" "Obviously, me. You would admit defeat the moment I punch you." "Hey, I'm not that easy!" "Oh, yes you are."

The late-night karaoke and dances

"You know what they say, love. Warriors don't go to war without their armor. Let's get ready." *their partner nods seriously and puts their work clothes on* "Gotta be prepared." LMAOOO

Taking random (not-so-good-looking) pictures of each other and their partner pretends to be mad before bursting into laughter.

Amusement dates are better than boring restaurant dates, right? They think so.

PARTNERS IN CRIME, I TELL YOU, PARTNERS IN CRIME

Not them ganging up against their family during board games and being all smug about it with each other

"Oh, I really want this. It's so cute!" "Now I know, you were only after my money. I've already bought you 50 of these damn ducks." *gasps and mockingly puts their hand on their mouth* "You found out my secret."

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itendtothinkalot · 3 months ago

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& it was all yellow (strangers to lovers)

summary: yellow was never beomgyu’s favorite color—until you came along with your ridiculously bright yellow headphones that somehow made you look even cuter. he saw you on the bus once, just minding your business, and that was it—game over for him. suddenly, yellow wasn’t just a color; it was you. the only problem? beomgyu (yes, the choi beomgyu, who seems cool and confident to everyone else) turns into a shy, blushing mess whenever you’re around. now he’s sitting there, heart racing, trying to come up with any excuse to talk to you—without making a complete fool of himself. except he does.

genre: fluff!!! super mega fluff. no angst. none at all. i promise!

characters: beomgyu x f!reader

words: 11.9k

warnings: cursing? i think

a/n: im such a beomgyu simp. i just have so much ideas for this man...and legend has it hes not even my bias.........................

Beomgyu liked to think of himself as two different people.

There was Group Beomgyu—the one his friends knew. Loud, quick-witted, always cracking jokes that left everyone in stitches. He was the guy who could light up a room without even trying. The one who dared his friends to do the ridiculous, like singing karaoke in public or sneaking fries into a movie theater.

But then, there was Solo Beomgyu.

That version of him emerged the moment he was alone. Quiet. Thoughtful. A little unsure of himself. Solo Beomgyu found solace in the mundane—watching raindrops race down bus windows, people-watching from his favorite spot at the back of the bus, and trying to guess the life stories of strangers in passing.

The bus ride to campus was his favorite part of the day. It was his escape, his time to recharge before stepping into the chaos of college life. And lately, it had become even more interesting—because of you.

It was silly, really. The first time he noticed you, he thought you looked cute as you climbed onto the bus in a skirt and baby tee. Your hair was tied back in a low ponytail, and you wore a pair of headphones that were impossible to miss. Those headphones—bright, sunny yellow—were probably the most damning thing about you.

How could someone so effortlessly capture his attention with something as simple as a pop of color? Yet there you were, sitting a few seats away, bobbing your head to the music only you could hear, completely oblivious to the way you’d become the highlight of his mornings.

Life had a funny way of showing irony. Just the day before, after spending hours gaming with his buddies, Beomgyu had sighed into his pillow, the weight of routine pressing down on him. It wasn’t that he hated his life—far from it. He was content, in a way. But somewhere deep down, he felt like his world had lost its color.

Nothing excited him anymore. Life had become an endless loop: wake up, take the bus to campus, study, head home, game with his friends, sleep, and repeat. Sure, there were the occasional party invitations, and he didn’t mind attending one here and there. But even those didn’t light a spark in him. They were fun, sure, but not really his scene.

It was strange to think how much his days blended together—until recently. Because now, as silly as it sounded, one part of his routine had started to stand out.

You.

Or, more specifically, your bright yellow headphones. They’d added a splash of color to his otherwise grayscale world. Something about how unapologetically vibrant they were made you seem larger than life, even as you quietly kept to yourself. It wasn’t just the headphones—it was you. The way you looked so at ease in your own little bubble, head bobbing to music only you could hear.

It was ridiculous to feel this drawn to someone he’d never even spoken to. But then again, maybe those yellow headphones weren’t just a splash of color. Maybe they were the first brushstroke of something entirely new.

It had been weeks since he’d first noticed you. By now, he’d already memorized your bus schedule—not because he was a stalker or anything, but simply because you seemed to follow the same routine as him. Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, like clockwork, you’d board the bus at the same stop, settle into your usual seat, and disappear into your world of music.

The two of you always got off at the same stop, though you’d inevitably drift in separate directions. He’d head toward the business building, his heavy bag slung over one shoulder, while you veered off toward the art center. That alone made him think you were an arts student. It fit, somehow. There was something creative about the way you carried yourself—effortless, like you were painting a masterpiece just by walking through the world.

And even though he didn’t know your name or anything about you beyond these small details, you’d already become a fixture in his mind.

–

“You should talk to her,” Soobin mumbled, biting off a chunk of his chocolate bar and waving it lazily in the air as if the solution were that simple.

“And say what?” Beomgyu shot back, slumping further into the worn couch in their shared dorm.

“I don’t know... things?” Soobin shrugged, barely looking up from the phone in his other hand.

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “You’re useless.”

Soobin smirked. “Says the guy who’s spent weeks staring at her like a weirdo.”

Beomgyu groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “It’s not that easy, okay? What if she’s not interested? What if I mess it up? What if—”

“What if she’s waiting for you to say something?” Soobin interrupted, his tone suddenly a little softer. “Look, all I’m saying is, you’re not gonna get anywhere just memorizing her bus schedule and hoping she notices you exist.”

Beomgyu scoffed but couldn’t deny the sting of truth in his friend’s words. He’d spent so much time admiring you from afar, inventing scenarios in his head, but none of them ever involved him actually... acting on it.

“Fine,” he muttered, more to himself than to Soobin. “I’ll talk to her.”

Soobin raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Beomgyu straightened up, determination flickering in his eyes. “Next time I see her, I’ll... I’ll figure something out.”

Soobin grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Can’t wait to hear about how that goes.”

Beomgyu shot him a glare but couldn’t help the tiny smile tugging at his lips.

–

And just like that, he’d convinced himself he was ready to approach you. Except he wasn’t. Days had passed, and despite his mental pep talks and rehearsed lines, he couldn’t bring himself to even say hi.

Like he said, “solo Beomgyu” was a whole different type of Beomgyu.

In front of his friends, he could crack jokes and steal the spotlight without breaking a sweat. But in front of you? He became a nervous wreck, fumbling over words in his head that never even made it out.

Well, that was until one fateful morning.

The city had woken up to chaos. Roads were closed in multiple areas because of some big event Beomgyu didn’t bother to look up—probably a marathon or a parade or something equally annoying to his morning routine. Either way, it was causing a major disruption, and Beomgyu was not thrilled.

He stood at the bus stop, waiting impatiently as three consecutive buses rolled by, each one packed to the brim. It felt like an eternity. He rolled his eyes and groaned inwardly, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder.

Great.

The crowd at the stop grew thicker, and Beomgyu found himself shifting uncomfortably between clusters of impatient commuters. He hated waiting. Hated the feeling of wasting time when he could’ve been doing literally anything else.

And then he saw you.

You stood a little further down the pavement, your yellow headphones perched snugly over your ears, your gaze focused somewhere distant. You didn’t seem nearly as bothered by the chaos around you, which only added to the list of things Beomgyu found unfairly fascinating about you.

For a moment, he debated whether to move closer, maybe strike up a conversation while you both waited. But before he could make up his mind, the next bus pulled up.

This one wasn’t quite as crowded, though still far from comfortable. Beomgyu squeezed on, finding himself pushed toward the back, when suddenly, a voice interrupted his silent grumbling.

“Excuse me.”

It was soft but clear enough to make him glance over—and there you were, maneuvering through the aisle, your bag held close to your side as you tried to find a spot to stand. Beomgyu froze.

You were right there.

Fate, coincidence, bad luck—whatever it was, it had dropped you within arm’s reach. Beomgyu’s heart hammered in his chest as he tried to decide what to do. Say something? Smile? Pretend he didn’t notice you and stare out the window like his life didn’t hinge on this moment?

The bus jolted suddenly, and you stumbled, grabbing onto the nearest pole to steady yourself. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it—that pole was the same one Beomgyu was holding onto.

Your hand brushed his, just briefly, but it was enough to send his brain into overdrive.

“Sorry,” you said softly, glancing up at him with an apologetic smile before returning your focus to the window.

Beomgyu blinked, his heart still racing. He opened his mouth, words teetering on the edge of spilling out, but all he managed was a faint, “It’s okay.”

You didn’t hear him. Or if you did, you didn’t acknowledge it. And just like that, the moment passed, leaving Beomgyu kicking himself internally.

But as the bus rolled on, he found a tiny flicker of hope. Sure, he hadn’t said much, but you’d spoken to him first. That had to mean something, right?

20 minutes. The bus ride was 20 minutes, and the two of you were right next to each other. Beomgyu felt his palms sweating, his heart pounding in his chest.

God, she’s right beside me. He felt himself gulp, glancing over at you from the corner of his eye.

He’d never been so grateful for being almost a head and a half taller than you. It meant you couldn’t see the small, nervous glances he kept stealing in your direction.

The bus was growing more crowded by the minute. It was starting to get a little uncomfortable. You could feel yourself being pushed into Beomgyu, the pressure increasing with every jolt the bus took. His arms were propped up, gripping the taller handles above him, while you fumbled around, trying to find anything to hold onto. First, you grabbed the pole, then the handles near the seats, but as the bus rocked, you found yourself with nothing to stabilize you.

Beomgyu noticed. His heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, he reached behind you, his hand hovering near your backpack, fingers brushing against the fabric, just trying to hold you steady. He hoped you didn’t notice.

But the bus was moving like a rollercoaster. The driver swerved around a corner, and suddenly, the entire vehicle felt like it was on the edge of tipping. A pothole hit with a thud, and the jolt sent you stumbling.

You flailed for balance, but there was nothing left to grab. Before you knew it, you were teetering dangerously, feeling yourself lose your footing.

In an instant, Beomgyu’s hand shot forward. His fingers found your shoulders, steadying you before you could fall. The warmth of his hands against you was unexpected, sending a flutter through your chest.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with surprise.

“Thank you,” you said breathlessly, your voice soft but clear, your heart still racing from the near-miss.

Beomgyu froze for a second, the sound of your voice like music to his ears. He felt the flush creep up his neck but tried to hide it with a casual, “No problem.” His grip lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, though neither of you seemed to mind.

The bus swayed again, and for a second, everything felt oddly... comfortable. Beomgyu could hear his heart thumping in his chest, but this time it was because of you—not the chaos of the ride.

—

The next day, the roads had finally cleared up. Beomgyu silently thanked every living being for that, especially since he had been about 30 minutes late for his class the previous day, missing out on a lecture he’d already been struggling with.

As he waited for the bus, his eyes automatically scanned the street, and there you were—your familiar yellow headphones bouncing as you made your way toward the bus stop.

You looked up, catching his eye from a few feet away, and offered him a smile.

“Hello,” you said, your voice light and friendly.

Beomgyu’s heart skipped a beat, and for a split second, he forgot how to breathe. “H-Hello,” he managed to croak out, cringing inwardly. Idiot.

You didn’t seem to mind, though. You gave him another smile, and it felt like the whole world slowed down for a second.

The bus soon arrived, and the two of you got on. Beomgyu’s eyes scanned the seats, and to his horror, all the empty ones were... right next to each other.

He froze. Great. Of course. Of all the seats.

Reluctantly, he made his way toward the row where you had already started to sit, mentally preparing himself for a potentially awkward ride. As he approached, you glanced up at him, your expression brightening.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

You shook your head. “It’s a free country.”

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment longer than necessary before sitting down beside you.

The bus jolted forward, and he instinctively reached for the pole above them, his fingers gripping it a little too tightly. Why am I so nervous? He couldn’t understand it.

Meanwhile, you settled into the seat, adjusting your backpack and glancing out the window. For a moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world—sitting beside someone you’d barely spoken to but already felt strangely connected with.

Beomgyu had no idea how to break the silence. But then, as if on cue, you turned to him.

“So… how’s your day going so far?”

It was a simple question, but the way you asked it made his heart race all over again. He managed to smile, albeit awkwardly.

“Uh, good, I guess. The roads are less crazy today.”

You laughed, and it felt like the weight in his chest lightened a little. “Yeah, I noticed. It was a mess yesterday.”

He nodded, relieved that the conversation hadn’t turned into an awkward silence.

“So… you’re heading to the art center again?” he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

You nodded, your smile softening. “Yeah. I’m always there on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

“Oh.” He pretended like he hadn’t known this little detail about you.

Beomgyu found himself relaxing a little more with each passing second. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. The awkwardness was still there, but it felt like a stepping stone—like the beginning of something that could finally get easier.

The bus continued to roll along, Beomgyu stole a quick glance at you, his heart fluttering as you hummed softly to the music in your headphones. For once, the awkwardness didn’t feel so unbearable.

The next few minutes passed in relative silence, with only the occasional rattle of the bus as it made its way through the streets. Beomgyu found himself struggling to think of anything to say. He could hear the faint melody of your music through the air, but there was no other conversation to fill the space. He tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh, stealing glances at you, trying to figure out how to start another topic.

His mind raced with all the things he could say, but none of them seemed good enough. This is so awkward, he thought, almost groaning internally. Why is this so hard?

His eyes landed on his phone. The distraction was tempting. He pulled it out and quickly opened Spotify, deciding that he could at least use the music to mask the silence between the two of you. Beomgyu scrolled through his playlists, searching for something that felt right for the moment.

The bus jerked again, and Beomgyu adjusted his seat, tapping on a song and turning the volume up, only to suddenly realize—Wait, I haven’t connected my AirPods.

Flustered, he fumbled with his phone, tapping at the Bluetooth settings and then back to the app, his face warming with embarrassment. Idiot.

But as the awkwardness hit its peak, you turned to him with a soft smile. “I like that song,” you said, your voice calm and easy, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “It really suits you.”

Beomgyu blinked in surprise, his nerves a little shaken by the unexpected compliment. He looked at you, his heart racing again. “It suits me?” he repeated, voice a little higher than he intended.

You shrugged lightly, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. “Yeah, it’s got a kind of... laid-back vibe. Kind of like you, I guess?”

Beomgyu’s face flushed, not sure whether to laugh or be more self-conscious. He adjusted his AirPods in a hurry, trying to make himself look less flustered than he felt.

“Thanks,” he said, a small grin tugging at his lips. “I mean, it’s just a playlist... but yeah. It’s one of my favorites.”

You smiled back, then looked out the window again, but Beomgyu couldn’t help but notice how much more comfortable the moment felt now. The weight of silence didn’t seem so heavy anymore.

He tapped play on the song again, this time making sure the music was coming through his AirPods. The familiar melody filled his ears, and for once, the awkwardness didn’t feel so unbearable. Instead, it was like a subtle connection was forming, one little step at a time.

"And how would you know if I'm laid-back?" Beomgyu asked shyly, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, but the curiosity in your eyes made him feel like he could ask the question without it sounding too awkward.

You chuckled softly, turning to face him for a moment. "I don't know," you shrugged, smiling. "Just a guess? Call it a woman's intuition."

Beomgyu blinked, not quite sure what to say. “Woman's intuition?” he repeated, a little taken aback.

You grinned, a playful glint in your eyes. “I don’t know, maybe I just get a sense of things.” You hesitated for a second, then added, “But I could be wrong. I mean, I don’t really know you.”

He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. But at least, for now, you didn’t seem to mind.

"I-I guess I do try not to let things bother me too much," he mumbled, still trying to figure out what to do with his hands. "Though, I wouldn't say I'm always that chill. I have my... moments." He let out a nervous laugh, hoping you wouldn't think he was some kind of mess.

You smiled, your eyes crinkling at the corners. "Everyone does."

Beomgyu blinked, surprised by how comforting your words were. For a moment, it felt like the world had slowed down again, and it was just the two of you, exchanging these small moments of understanding.

"True," Beomgyu said softly, his smile growing a little more genuine. "I guess I'm just not great at dealing with, you know, awkward moments."

You looked at him curiously. "Awkward moments, huh?"

Beomgyu nodded, his ears turning a little red. "Yeah... like this one." He gestured vaguely between the two of them, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "I mean, I don't usually... I don't know, talk to people like this."

Your smile softened. "You seem like you’re doing just fine to me."

His heart swelled a little at that. "Really?"

"Yeah," you replied, your tone sincere. "You’re doing great."

Beomgyu’s face lit up with a smile he couldn’t contain. "Thanks," he said, feeling a little less nervous than he had before. "That means a lot, actually."

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the sound of the bus’s tires on the road and the faint music in his ears the only background noise. Beomgyu felt a strange sense of peace settle in his chest. Maybe this wasn’t so hard after all.

He glanced over at you, catching you humming softly along to the music, and realized that, somehow, this was one of the most comfortable conversations he’d ever had.

"Hey," Beomgyu said after a beat, his curiosity getting the best of him. "What about you? What’s your favorite type of music?"

You turned to him with a thoughtful look, clearly enjoying the question. "I guess I’m all about the acoustic stuff mostly."

"Acoustic, huh?" Beomgyu said with a smile, intrigued. "I can see that. Seems like something you’d like."

You smiled, the sound of your laughter filling the space between you. "You got that from…?”

“Call it an idiot’s intuition.” He chuckled.

You laughed, “What about you?"

Beomgyu chuckled, trying to hide the grin that spread across his face. "I’m pretty into all kinds of stuff, but right now? Definitely some chill pop. Y’know, maybe I’m starting to agree with you on the whole laid-back thing."

You raised an eyebrow, playfully teasing him. "So, you admit it?"

Beomgyu shrugged, leaning back a little, feeling a little more confident with each word. "Yeah. I guess I do."

And in that moment, Beomgyu finally realized that maybe, just maybe, the things he’d been too nervous to do or say weren’t as difficult as he’d once thought.

—

Beomgyu slumped back into his bus seat, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Idiot," he muttered under his breath. After weeks of stealing glances and summoning every ounce of courage he had, today had finally been the day he talked to you. Well, kind of. It was small talk—weather, classes, and music. But it was progress.

And yet, in his nervousness, he’d forgotten the most important thing. He hadn’t asked for your name or your number. He groaned inwardly, glancing out the window as the bus trundled down the familiar route. It was Thursday, which meant he wouldn’t see you again until Monday. Four whole days.

“Great,” he muttered, slumping further into his seat. “Four days to kick myself for being an idiot.”

Monday arrived far too slowly, and Beomgyu was oddly fidgety, his leg bouncing as he stared at the bus stop from his seat. The bus slowed to a stop, and his heart leapt in anticipation—only to sink when you weren’t there.

He glanced out the window, confused. Maybe you were running late. Or you’d taken an earlier bus? He brushed it off, convincing himself you’d show up tomorrow.

But then Tuesday came. And Wednesday. And still, there was no sign of you.

Beomgyu found himself staring at the seat you always sat in, empty and glaringly obvious. He hated how it bothered him so much. He barely knew you—he didn’t even know your name—and yet he felt like something was missing. Like the bus rides were quieter without the possibility of you being there.

By Thursday, disappointment had settled heavily in his chest. He sat near the back, earphones in but barely paying attention to the music. The world outside the window blurred past, but his thoughts were stuck on you.

Where were you?

—

It had been approximately two weeks since Beomgyu had last seen you. You had vanished like the wind, leaving him frustrated and more restless than he wanted to admit. Every day since, he’d made excuses to linger outside the art center, hoping for some sign of you. Desperation had even driven him to approach the center’s custodian, awkwardly asking if he’d seen anyone with bright yellow headphones.

“Yellow headphones?” a voice behind him piped up, catching Beomgyu off guard. “You mean this girl, right?”

Beomgyu turned to find a tall, sharp-featured guy holding out his phone, displaying a picture of you.

Immediately, Beomgyu’s stomach twisted. He took in the guy’s confident smile, the casual air about him, and the way he spoke about you like he knew you well—too well. He didn’t like it one bit.

“Yeah, that’s her,” Beomgyu said, his voice measured. “Who are you?”

“I’m Yeonjun,” the guy said, sliding his phone back into his pocket. He extended a hand, but Beomgyu hesitated for a second before shaking it. “I’m her friend.”

Friend? Beomgyu’s eyes narrowed slightly. Yeonjun was a little too good-looking to just be a friend, wasn’t he?

“So, uh…” Beomgyu cleared his throat, trying to hide the slight edge in his voice. “Do you know where she’s been?”

Yeonjun’s expression softened, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Yeah. Something happened a couple of weeks ago. She’s been taking some time off to deal with it. But she should be back next week.”

Beomgyu felt a wave of relief wash over him—until Yeonjun added, “She’s been doing okay, though. We’ve been texting, and I’ve checked in on her a couple of times. You know, just to make sure she’s alright.”

Beomgyu’s jaw tightened. Texting? Checking in? Was that really necessary for a “friend”? He tried to keep his expression neutral, but a pang of jealousy flared in his chest.

“Right,” Beomgyu said, forcing a small smile. “That’s good. It’s good she has…people checking in on her.”

Yeonjun tilted his head, studying Beomgyu for a moment. “Who are you, anyway?” he asked casually. “Do you…know her?”

Beomgyu froze for a split second, the question catching him off guard. He shrugged quickly, trying to play it off. “Not really. We just…take the same bus sometimes.”

“Oh,” Yeonjun said, his lips quirking up into a small, knowing smile. “I see. So you’re, what? A bus friend?”

“Something like that,” Beomgyu mumbled, suddenly feeling like an idiot. He wished he’d thought of something cooler to say, but it was too late now.

“Well,” Yeonjun said with a grin, “that’s cute. But yeah, don’t worry—she’ll be back soon. And maybe I’ll see you around too, man.”

“Yeah. See you,” Beomgyu replied, watching as Yeonjun walked away.

As soon as Yeonjun was out of sight, Beomgyu exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He felt ridiculous. He didn’t even know your name, and yet here he was, stewing over some guy who probably wasn’t even competition.

Still, as he walked back toward the bus stop, the thought lingered: What if Yeonjun wasn’t just a friend?

—

And Yeonjun was right. You were back the following week, except you were dressed in the darkest colors Beomgyu had ever seen you wear. Your expression matched your clothing—cloudy, somber, and weighed down by something unseen. Strangely, he found it almost endearing that you seemed to dress the way you felt.

Still, it made him worry. Not that he had any right to, given that you two weren’t exactly close. But the thought lingered: What could’ve happened to make her look this upset?

When he finally gathered the courage to take the seat beside you on the bus, you didn’t even glance at him. You were completely absorbed in your thoughts, your body language practically screaming, Leave me alone.

“Life sucks, doesn’t it?” Your voice cut through his thoughts suddenly.

“Huh?” he asked, blinking in surprise.

You didn’t look at him, your gaze fixed out the window. “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “It can suck,” he admitted. “But it can also be really great.”

You turned your head slightly, finally acknowledging him with a raised brow. “Oh, yeah? How’s it ‘really great,’ exactly?”

“Well,” he started, leaning back in his seat, “it’s great because… it’s unpredictable. You never know when something good might happen. Even when everything feels like it’s falling apart, sometimes the universe throws you a surprise. Like…” He paused, glancing at you meaningfully, “…sitting next to someone who’s too cute to be upset.”

The corners of your lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile breaking through. “That’s cheesy,” you said, but there was no hiding the slight blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“Cheesy, sure, but also a fact ,” he replied with a grin. “See? You’re smiling already..”

You shook your head, laughing softly before falling quiet again. After a beat of silence, you sighed. “I’m not usually like this. I don’t like moping around. It’s just…”

Beomgyu tilted his head, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“…My parents decided to sell our old childhood home,” you admitted, your voice soft and tinged with sadness. “I had to go back and clear out all my things. It’s stupid. A first-world problem if you must, but I didn’t think it’d hit me this hard.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze warm and understanding. “It’s not stupid,” he said gently. “It’s your childhood. It’s where you grew up, made memories, and felt safe. It’s okay to be upset about losing something that meant so much to you.”

You looked at him, your expression conflicted. “I guess. It’s just… I feel so silly. Like, there are bigger problems in the world, and here I am crying over a house.”

“It’s not just a house, though, is it?” he countered, his tone firm but kind. “It’s a piece of you. And no one gets to tell you how to feel about it, not even yourself. Your feelings are valid—every single one of them.”

Your lips parted slightly, taken aback by his sincerity. For the first time in days, you felt a weight lift off your chest.

“Thanks,” you said softly, offering him a small, genuine smile. “I didn’t realize I needed to hear that.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said with a wink, making you laugh despite yourself.

As the bus rolled to a stop near campus, you glanced at him and hesitated for a moment. “Hey, Beomgyu?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe life doesn’t suck that much after all,” you said, your smile widening just a little before you stood up and stepped off the bus.

He stayed seated, watching you walk away, and couldn’t help but grin to himself. Maybe life didn’t suck that much, indeed.

Then it hit him.

How’d you know his name?

—

It had become second nature to save each other a seat on the bus. Whether it was an unspoken agreement or just something you both fell into, neither of you questioned it. For the next two weeks, your mornings began with a quiet understanding. You’d sit side by side, talking about the most mundane things—complaints about the weather, funny things you’d overheard, or random thoughts that popped into your heads.

Still, you hadn’t exchanged names, let alone numbers. It was almost absurd at this point, how you knew snippets of each other’s lives but not the most basic details. Except you did know his name—and Beomgyu was still wondering how.

Beomgyu found it funny too. But he didn’t mind. He liked your conversations, no matter how random they were.

Then one day, Beomgyu didn’t show up.

You found yourself glancing down the street more than once, your brows furrowed as you searched for any sign of his figure walking toward the stop. The bus pulled up, and you hesitated, standing on your toes to peer down the block one last time before climbing aboard.

You took your usual seat by the window, feeling a small pang of disappointment. The bus rolled forward, the rain outside picking up again and blurring the city beyond the glass. You stared at the streaks of water running down the pane, wondering where he could be.

That was when the bus jerked to a sudden stop.

You glanced toward the front, curious, only to see someone hopping up the stairs, drenched from head to toe. It took you half a second to recognize him, but when you did, you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you.

Beomgyu stood there, panting slightly, his hair plastered to his forehead and water dripping from his jacket. His sneakers squeaked against the floor as he caught his breath.

“You made it,” you said, grinning as he shuffled over to your seat.

“Yeah,” he replied between breaths, dropping into the seat beside you with a sheepish smile. “Barely.”

“Did you seriously chase the bus?” you asked, trying not to laugh too hard.

“Well…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I couldn’t miss it. Someone’s got to save you a seat.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile as you handed him a tissue from your bag. “It’s the other way around, is it not?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, taking the tissue to wipe his face.

As the bus rolled forward again, the rain continued to pour outside, but it didn’t bother you as much anymore. Beomgyu was here, sitting beside you again, and for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, that made the day feel a whole lot brighter.

“Y’know… I still don’t know how you know my name while I don’t even know yours,” Beomgyu said, leaning back in his seat as he looked at you with curious eyes.

You grinned sheepishly, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “I… It’s stupid.”

“What’s stupid is that we’re practically best friends now, and I still don’t know your name or have your number,” he said with a pointed look.

“I like our friendship. It’s low maintenance,” you teased, biting back a smile.

“I’d like it more if I could talk to you more often instead of just on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays,” he countered, his lips quirking into a small pout.

You laughed. “But isn’t it fun this way?”

“It’s a whole amusement park,” he replied with a chuckle. “Though we’re threading off-topic—how’d you know my name?”

“Who doesn’t know your name, business boy?” you shot back, laughing softly.

“What?” His brows furrowed in confusion.

“You’re the infamous business boy on our school’s social media page. You don’t know about that?”

“Oh, I heard Soobin mention something about it a couple of times, but I don’t really check the app. I just use it to look at the lunch menu,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, you’re always making appearances on there. Especially from new students. ‘The dude from Econs 305 is really cute,’” you mimicked in a high-pitched voice, earning a laugh from him.

“Oh, so you’re saying you frequent the page often to find me?” he teased, leaning a little closer with a smirk.

“No! I’m just saying it pops up on my feed,” you said quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. You looked away, embarrassed by the way he was watching you now.

“Hmm.” Beomgyu’s smirk deepened as he tapped his chin dramatically. “You’re blushing. Are you sure you don’t check it on purpose?”

“Absolutely not,” you huffed, still avoiding his gaze.

“Okay, okay,” he relented, though his grin didn’t fade. He leaned back in his seat and looked at you thoughtfully. “Still, I’m flattered. Infamous, huh? Guess I’ve got quite the reputation.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he said with a playful shrug. Then, after a moment of silence, he tilted his head and added, “So, are you ever going to tell me your name, or are you going to keep the mystery alive?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “I don’t know… The mystery has a certain charm, don’t you think?”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned dramatically. “Throw me a bone here.”

You laughed, finally relenting. “Fine. I’ll tell you—on one condition.”

“Anything,” he said eagerly, his eyes lighting up.

“You’re going to have to wait a little longer,” you teased, grinning at the look of mock horror on his face.

“Is this some kind of game for you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” you grinned, feeling a little mischievous. “But don’t worry, I’ll tell you soon enough.”

Beomgyu sighed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Your conversation was abruptly cut off by the bus driver’s voice over the intercom, his tone apologetic. “Sorry for the delay, folks. There’s a small flood up ahead, and we’re going to have to take a detour. We’ll be going around, so it’ll take about 20 more minutes. Please bear with us.”

You sighed, leaning back into your seat. The rain outside was relentless, tapping against the windows in a rhythm that made your eyelids heavy. Gradually, you drifted off, your head tilting toward the window. Every so often, you jerked awake, only for your head to fall back against the glass with a soft thud. Beomgyu watched you, his lips twitching as he stifled a chuckle. He shifted closer, his gaze softening. Carefully, he leaned over and gently placed your head on his shoulder.

You didn’t stir. The comfort of the moment made you relax further into him, unaware of the quiet smile on Beomgyu’s face. After a few moments, an idea sparked in his mind. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a Sharpie, the black marker feeling oddly significant in his hands. Glancing down at your arm, he softly grasped your wrist, guiding it gently. He wrote quickly, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he scrawled:

‘Text me, I’m trying to be your best friend on all 7 days of the week - Beomgyu’

Once he was done, he sat back, his heart racing a little as he looked at your sleeping form. Pretending like nothing had happened, he adjusted his posture and looked out the window, as if he hadn’t just written his number on your arm.

About 15 minutes later, the bus jolted as it finally approached your campus, pulling into the stop with a slight screech of the wheels. The ride was almost over, and you began to stir, your eyes fluttering open slowly. You blinked a few times, squinting in the morning light that filtered through the windows.

Beomgyu glanced over at you casually, his face neutral as you yawned, rubbing your eyes. You stretched and groggily looked around, your gaze landing on him.

“Hey,” he said, almost too nonchalantly. “We’re here. Campus, I mean.”

You nodded, still dazed from sleep. “Yeah, I guess we are.” You glanced down at your arm, and your eyes widened when you saw the writing on your skin. A small smile tugged at your lips, though you tried to hide it.

Beomgyu didn’t acknowledge your surprise, pretending to look out the window, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his bag. “Didn’t want to wake you up, but… it’s kind of hard to miss, huh?”

You rubbed your arm, trying to act casual. “Hmm, what’s this?” You raised an eyebrow, playing along.

“Nothing,” Beomgyu said, voice smooth. “Just figured it was a good time to share my number. You know, in case you need me for… any reason.” He grinned, his gaze flicking to you for a moment before he quickly looked away, feigning innocence.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your heart fluttering a bit at his casual confidence. “Smooth, Beomgyu. Really smooth.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to make sure I’m not just a bus stop friend,” he said, a playful tone in his voice. “I’ve got big plans for us to hang out… all week long.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

Beomgyu only grinned, looking down at his bag as the bus doors finally opened. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As you both stood up, gathering your things, there was a lingering sense of something unspoken between you two, the kind that felt both thrilling and comforting all at once.

—

Beomgyu glanced down at his phone again, his finger hovering over the screen, but there was still no text from you. It had been a day or two since he wrote his number on your arm, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you were just too busy or, worse, playing hard to get. The thought made his chest tighten. He didn’t like that feeling, the uncertainty, but it was all he could think about. God, he wanted you so much, but now... now he wasn’t so sure.

He sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket and heading toward the campus bus stop. His mind kept replaying the moment he'd written his number on your arm, hoping you’d text him. He should’ve just asked for your number, but for some reason, he’d held back. What was wrong with him?

And then, as if on cue, he saw you standing there. His heart skipped a beat. You were just as he remembered—yellow headphones hanging around your neck. But there was something different this time. Something he hadn’t expected.

Someone was with you.

Beomgyu stopped dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. Yeonjun. Of course, it had to be him. The guy was tall, confident, and... his arm was around you. Beomgyu's stomach twisted, the jealousy creeping up on him. He wasn’t the type to feel this way, but seeing the two of you together felt like a punch to the gut.

He told himself it wasn’t a big deal. That you’d never given him any indication you liked him in the first place. You were beautiful, funny, smart—of course, you’d be taken. He shouldn’t even be surprised, but damn it, it stung more than he expected.

Beomgyu glanced away, his feet itching to leave. Maybe it was better not to make a fool of himself.

Just as he was about to walk off, a loud voice rang through the air. "Beomgyu!"

He turned, and there you were—waving at him, smiling that infectious smile of yours. His heart fluttered. You looked so happy to see him. For a brief moment, the jealousy melted away, and all he could do was return your smile.

"Beomgyu, right?" Yeonjun said, raising an eyebrow. He grinned, the kind of smile that made Beomgyu want to roll his eyes. "I remember you. You’re the one who asked me where she was when she disappeared for two weeks."

Beomgyu’s face flushed instantly. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to vanish into the ground or laugh it off. "No, no. That’s not me," he muttered, shaking his head quickly, trying to downplay the awkwardness of the moment.

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. "No, I remember. It was you. I mean, you're the Business Boy, aren’t you?" He smirked, clearly amused. "I was a little surprised you were asking about this idiot here."

You shoved Yeonjun lightly, but Beomgyu could see the playful affection in your eyes. And in that moment, his heart sank. So this was it. You and Yeonjun. He had hoped he was wrong, but now he could see it clearly. You were a couple.

"You asked about me?" You tilted your head slightly, your eyes catching his.

Beomgyu’s cheeks flushed pink. "I mean, you were gone for so long, so I was just... wondering where you went."

"You came all the way to the arts center just to ask about me?" Your voice was light, teasing, and for some reason, it made his heart race.

Beomgyu quickly waved his hand, his face growing even warmer. "It’s not like that," he said, trying to downplay it. "I was just curious, that’s all."

But before he could say anything more, you grinned, eyes sparkling. "That’s so sweet!" You suddenly rushed over to Beomgyu’s arm, linking it with yours, much to his surprise.

He froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden closeness. He wasn’t sure whether to pull away or enjoy the moment. His heart thudded in his chest as you looked up at him with a playful smile.

"Okay, okay," Yeonjun chimed in, his voice teasing. "I get it, you two have some weird little connection, but we have to get going. I’ll let you two catch up later." He gave Beomgyu a knowing look before nudging you gently, a playful grin still on his face.

You looked a little embarrassed, but you didn’t let go of Beomgyu’s arm. "Sorry, I just... haven’t seen you in a while, Beomgyu," you said, your voice quieter now, your gaze softening. "It’s nice to know you cared enough to ask about me."

“It’s only been two days,” Beomgyu thought bitterly, but didn’t say aloud. He couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment that surfaced, especially after the number exchange that had been left hanging.

"Also, you haven’t texted me back," you sighed dramatically. "To think you were the one who told me to text you."

Beomgyu blinked, slightly taken aback. "You did?" His voice betrayed his confusion. "I didn’t get anything from you."

"You did!" You shoved your phone in his face. "See?"

Beomgyu grabbed your phone and checked the message history. "I didn’t get anything," he said again, scrolling through, but as he looked closely, he raised an eyebrow. "Wait, you saved my number wrong. It’s an 8, not a 6."

You stared at the screen in disbelief. "It’s a 6. I’m sure of it. Hold on, I even took a picture of it! See!" You quickly opened your gallery and shoved the phone at him again, showing him the snapshot of the contact info.

Beomgyu frowned, shaking his head. "No, that's definitely an 8," he said with a laugh, trying to hide his amusement at your determination.

"You have terrible handwriting!" you retorted, hands on your hips.

"No, I don’t!" Beomgyu shot back, now laughing. "You just have terrible comprehension skills!"

The two of you continued to bicker, your playful banter creating an almost natural rhythm. Yeonjun, standing beside you, cleared his throat loudly, interrupting the back-and-forth.

"Love, we really have to go," he said, his tone flat and a bit impatient, but still affectionate.

You blinked, suddenly realizing the time. "Oh, right! Sorry, I got carried away." Then, turning to Beomgyu with a bright smile, you said, "I’ll text you tonight, Beomgyu!"

Beomgyu, still processing the sudden turn of events, gave you a nod, though his chest felt oddly tight. "Alright," he said, his voice soft. "I’ll be waiting."

With that, you waved one last time and walked away with Yeonjun, leaving Beomgyu standing there, staring after you. He couldn’t help but wonder if the playful banter had meant something more—if maybe there was more between you two than just casual friendship. But until he heard from you, he could only hope.

—

Beomgyu laid in bed, his mind racing. Strangely, it wasn’t you that occupied his thoughts now—it was Yeonjun. Who was he, really? He wasn’t one to stalk someone’s Instagram, but tonight, he found himself doing just that. Scrolling through endless dance videos, selfies, and posts, he finally stumbled upon a highlight reel with a familiar yellow color—your yellow headphones.

Without thinking, his fingers tapped the screen, and video after video started playing. There you were, laughing, giggling, screaming, clearly having fun with Yeonjun. The two of you were obviously close—closer than he had imagined. His chest tightened as he watched, feeling a knot form in his stomach. He didn’t know how to feel. Jealous? That seemed silly, especially since you had never shown any signs of liking him back. His crush on you felt like a one-sided affair, and if anything, this just confirmed it.

Beomgyu chuckled to himself, still feeling that flutter in his chest. He quickly typed another response.

He sighed, shifting uncomfortably under the covers. Time to move on, he told himself. It was just a silly crush, and he had no right to keep dwelling on it. You were probably just being nice, and Yeonjun was clearly in the picture. Beomgyu had no business lingering on something that wasn’t even real.

Just as he was about to close the app, a notification popped up on his screen.

Yellow Headphones: Beomgyu!

His heart skipped a beat, and a rush of warmth spread across his chest. So much for moving on, he thought again, his thumb hovering over the message. He hesitated for a second before responding.

Beomgyu: Yellow headphones~ Yellow Headphones: Is that my new nickname? Beomgyu: Well, depends, it’s either that or bus girl and that doesn’t really have a ring to it. Yellow Headphones: I suppose. Anyway, whatchu doing? ^^

Well, Beomgyu couldn’t tell the truth, now could he? Stalking your potential boyfriend sounded really stupid.

Beomgyu: Just using my phone. You? Yellow Headphones: With Yeonjun right now. He’s been stressed over his dance recital and I’ve been helping him with it, but he’s still feeling all over the place. Beomgyu: Oh. You and him seem really close. Yellow Headphones: Of course! We’ve been friends since we were 10 ^^ we’re practically brother and sister. Beomgyu: Oh! You two aren’t dating? Yellow Headphones: God no, ew… besides, he has a girlfriend, and he is not my type.

Beomgyu’s eyes widened as he read that. Not my type—those words felt like a weight lifting off his chest. The knot in his stomach loosened, and he felt an unexpected surge of hope.

Beomgyu: Oh!

Beomgyu smiled—actually, he beamed. His excitement made him jump out of bed, letting out a quiet scream of joy, before realizing he was making too much noise.

“BEOMGYU, SHUT UP, I’M TRYING TO FUCKING SLEEP!” Soobin yelled from across the hall.

Beomgyu winced, sheepishly holding his phone closer to his chest. "Fuck, sorry!" he whispered, grinning to himself. He had a reason to be happy tonight, and that was enough for now. He quickly typed another message, eager to keep the conversation going.

Beomgyu: Haha, my bad. Yellow Headphones: Haha, it’s okay! Anyway, do you have any plans for tomorrow?

Beomgyu hesitated for a second, heart thumping. Was this really happening?

Yellow Headphones: Maybe we can hang out? I’d love to take this friendship out of the bus.

Beomgyu grinned wider, practically bouncing on his bed.

Beomgyu: I’ll see you at our usual bus stop at 3 then? Yellow Headphones: Sure!

—-

Beomgyu had been waiting at the bus stop for 10 minutes, it wasn’t that you were late, he was just really early, his excitement bubbling up as he checked his phone for the time again. He was nervous, but in a good way. Today was the day. The day he was meeting you outside of the usual school routine, just the two of you. And from the messages he'd gotten earlier, it was clear you were as excited as he was.

Then, as if on cue, he saw you.

You appeared in the distance, looking like a burst of sunshine in a bright yellow dress. Your hair was styled in a half ponytail, held up by a cute bow, making the whole look even more playful. Beomgyu felt his heart race as he took you in. Adorable. He couldn’t even put it into words, but his grin stretched from ear to ear. He had to force himself to stop from gushing about how cute you looked, biting his lip to keep himself from saying it out loud. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to—he just didn’t want to seem too eager.

You skipped over to him, a playful energy radiating from you, and nudged his arm. "There you are," you giggled, poking his sides, making him flinch in surprise but laugh all the same.

"You look great!" you added, eyes twinkling as you looked him up and down.

Beomgyu’s heart fluttered at the compliment. He’d styled his hair with a bit of gel, making it tousled in that effortlessly cool way. He’d chosen a simple, casual dress shirt and slacks—nothing fancy, but enough to look presentable. Enough to say, yeah, I look good. Because, well, he was Beomgyu, and he always did.

“Do I look any different from how I dress on campus?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, though his smile betrayed his excitement.

You chuckled, crossing your arms in front of you as you assessed him. “Well, yeah. You only wear hoodies to school.”

Beomgyu couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m a hoodie guy, what can I say?”

“You’re a hoodie guy with potential,” you teased, poking his side again.

His grin widened. “Guess I’ve got to wear more than just hoodies around you then, huh?”

You shrugged playfully. “Maybe.”

Beomgyu chuckled, feeling a strange warmth spreading through him. This was nice. Really nice. He found himself staring at you, the way you carried yourself with such ease and confidence, making it impossible not to smile. He was genuinely looking forward to this.

“So, uh, what’s the plan?” he asked, wanting to make sure he didn’t come off as awkward, though he was fighting back the urge to let the conversation tumble into something that would sound way too cheesy.

“Well, I thought we could grab coffee first,” you suggested, grinning mischievously. “Then maybe take a walk around the park or something. Just… relax.”

“That sounds perfect,” Beomgyu replied, his voice a little softer than usual, but full of sincerity. He was definitely not about to complain about spending time with you.

You both fell into an easy conversation as you waited for the bus, and Beomgyu couldn’t help but steal glances at you when you weren’t looking, his heart racing in a way he wasn’t used to. Being around you felt different. He’d always been around people, but this—this felt like something he couldn’t quite put into words.

It didn’t matter, though. Today was the start of something, and he was finally okay with the fact that he was feeling it.

—

Beomgyu felt his palms starting to sweat as he sat across from you at the coffee shop. He had no idea what had gotten into him, but suddenly he was nervous. Really nervous. His usual confident demeanor was nowhere to be found, replaced by a strange fluttering in his chest. Every time you laughed, he felt a little spark, and when you looked at him with that warm smile, it was like his heart skipped a beat. It was all so much more than he had anticipated.

You were saying something about how cute the coffee shop was, but Beomgyu was only half listening. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from you—how effortlessly you moved, how you interacted with the people around you, your kindness radiating in everything you did. You said thank you to the barista, smiled at a little kid passing by, and his heart couldn’t help but swell. You were starting to feel a little too perfect, and it was making him swoon.

“So,” you said with a smile, taking a sip of your coffee, “this is a pretty cute first date, isn’t it?”

Beomgyu nearly choked on his drink. “Date? This is a date?” he blurted out, wide-eyed. His heart leaped into his throat as soon as the words left his mouth. He hadn’t even thought about it that way.

You looked up at him, your cheeks instantly turning pink. “This isn’t a date? Oh… I just assumed… this is really embarrassing,” you said, your voice trailing off as you awkwardly shifted in your seat.

Beomgyu felt a wave of panic wash over him. His brain short-circuited, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He’d been so wrapped up in the idea of spending time with you that he hadn’t even considered the possibility of this being a date—and now you were embarrassed, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

"I—I'm sorry, I didn’t—" You sputtered, your words tumbling out in a mix of embarrassment. Then, in a flustered panic, you stood up and accidentally knocked over a glass of water onto your dress. "Oh my god!" you exclaimed, your face flushing in mortification.

Beomgyu’s heart dropped. “No! This can be a—” He rushed to stand up but hesitated, unsure of what to say to make things better.

You started to gather your things, clearly upset. “You don’t have to pity me, Beomgyu. I’ve been in this situation before,” you muttered, looking away and clutching your things tightly. “I’ll just—”

"No, you don’t get it!" Beomgyu almost shouted, his voice a little more desperate than he intended. "I don’t—it's not like that. I didn’t—this can definitely be a date if you want it to be," he stammered, feeling the heat rise to his face.

You froze, your hand still gripping your bag, and turned back to look at him. The nervousness in your eyes faded slightly, replaced by a hesitant curiosity. “Really?” you asked softly, as though unsure if you should believe him. “Because you don’t have to lie—”

“I’m not,” Beomgyu replied quickly, his voice more certain now. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you. Ever since you took the bus in those big, bright yellow headphones.”

“Oh,” you whispered, your eyes widening slightly. For a moment, everything was silent except for the chatter from everyone else in the coffee shop.

Beomgyu scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure of how to continue. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he couldn't look away from you. “I know this probably isn’t how we both pictured this would happen,” he admitted, his voice softening.

This time, it was you who fell silent. You didn’t know what to say, so you just stood there, frozen in place. Then your eyes flickered downward. You realized your dress was wet, a small stream of water dripping down your leg.

“Right, my dress,” you mumbled, suddenly panicked.

“Here,” Beomgyu said quickly, handing you a napkin.

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice small as you dabbed at the wet fabric.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence, the realization of what had just been said still hanging in the air. So, you both clearly had feelings for each other, but neither of you seemed to know what to do with them.

“So, uh…” You both spoke at the same time, your words overlapping, before you both chuckled nervously.

“Yeah, uh…” Beomgyu trailed off, his hands shifting uncomfortably in his lap. “This is… a lot.”

“Yeah, a little,” you agreed, your voice tinged with a mixture of laughter and embarrassment.

For a moment, neither of you spoke again. The noise around you, the clinking of coffee cups and low hum of conversations, seemed to fill the space between you, making it feel both cozy and utterly awkward at the same time.

Beomgyu was the first to break the silence, his voice quiet but sincere. “I really like you, you know?”

You smiled at him, your heart fluttering. “I like you too, Beomgyu. I really do.”

He looked at you, his eyes soft and a little shy now, but there was something else there too—hope. “Before we, I guess… become a couple…” He cringed, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how endearing he was. “I’d love to take you out on a few dates first. I’d really like to get to know you better.”

You grinned. “You’re almost too perfect, I fear.”

Beomgyu smirked playfully. “I was thinking the same thing.”

You laughed again, the sound light and easy between the two of you. It felt good—comfortable, even—and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so at ease with someone.

—

Two years had passed since that awkward coffee shop moment, and here they were again, at the same bus stop where it all began. Beomgyu and you stood side by side, hand in hand, but there was a noticeable difference now—two years of laughter, moments, and quiet affection between the two of you.

“This is ridiculous!” you exclaimed, frustration clear in your voice. “Why didn’t we think of moving somewhere else? Why do we insist on staying in this godforsaken area?!”

Beomgyu just chuckled, squeezing your hand lightly. “Baby, c’mon, this is where our roots are. Have you forgotten? Bus buddies and all that crap?”

You shot him a playful glare, rolling your eyes. “Gyu, this is getting crazy.” You gestured towards the crowded bus, which was slowly pulling away. “It’s the third one we’ve had to miss today. We’re never going to get to work on time at this rate.”

Beomgyu shrugged nonchalantly. “We could always just skip work. You know, pretend we’re working from home?” he teased.

You playfully shoved him. “Not funny,” you said with a soft laugh, though the frustration was still there. “But seriously, this is becoming a bit much. You’ve been saying for ages that we need to get out of this neighborhood.”

He took a step closer, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. “You really wanna move out of this area?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost a little hesitant.

You turned to face him, looking up into his eyes. There was a seriousness in his expression that made your heart skip a beat. “I love the memories we’ve made here, but the buses are a nightmare. And we don’t even live that far from each other anymore…” You sighed. “I don’t know. I think I might be ready for a change. Something a bit quieter. Closer to our workplaces.”

There was a brief silence as Beomgyu let the words sink in. He stood there for a moment, his hand still in yours, before a smile spread across his face. “You know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ve been thinking about something too…”

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. “What’s that?”

Beomgyu’s smile grew, his eyes glinting with excitement. “What if we, uh, moved into an apartment closer to work? Somewhere we could both call our place… together?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. “What do you mean?” you asked, trying to hide the sudden rush of emotions.

“I mean…” he trailed off, his voice suddenly softer. “I know we’ve been living separate lives in our own places, but what if we took the next step? What if we moved in together, like a real couple? Maybe in an apartment just a few blocks away from our workplaces? We could make it our own… just us.”

Your breath caught in your throat as the gravity of his words settled over you. For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure if you’d heard him right.

But then, his hand gently cupped your cheek, and the sincerity in his gaze melted any doubt away. “What do you think? I’ve been saving up, and I thought… maybe it’s time. Time for us to be closer. To have our own space.”

Your heart was racing, your mind still trying to process everything Beomgyu had just said. You had dreamed about this moment, but hearing him actually say it out loud felt surreal. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” you whispered, the excitement bubbling up inside you.

“I am, if you say yes,” he replied, his voice full of sincerity, yet there was a hint of playfulness behind it.

You looked at him, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Now, how could I ever say no to that face?”

Beomgyu deadpanned, “You say no to me all the time.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s because your requests are ridiculous. We’re not having dino nuggets for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We need some variety.”

“Mayo, ketchup, ranch,” Beomgyu replied nonchalantly, as if that was a reasonable combination.

You scrunched up your nose. “That’s gross.”

“And yet, you still kiss me,” Beomgyu said with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide the smile that tugged at your lips. “Unfortunately, I do.”

“Unfortunately?” he said, his voice dropping in pitch as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. “You didn’t seem to complain last night.”

You immediately flushed, quickly shooting a look around to make sure no one was nearby. “No bed talk in a school zone, idiot,” you shot back, trying to stay serious but failing miserably.

He grinned even wider, leaning in a little closer. “There are no kids here.”

You pointed at him accusingly. “There’s one right here,” you said, laughing despite yourself.

Beomgyu threw his hands up in mock surrender, still chuckling. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave.” But his grin never faded.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the energy between the two of you so effortless, so right. It felt like two years of inside jokes, shared moments, and quiet affection were all wrapped up in this one little exchange. You took a deep breath, squeezing his hand tighter as the bus pulled up, and just before it came to a stop, you said, “So, where’s our new apartment gonna be, huh?”

“Well…call me crazy but I’ve already been looking up on some apartments for about a few weeks now and since we’re not in a rush–we’ll be working from home today, by the way,-- and we can check out this new apartment listing I saw.”

You rolled your eyes, thinking aloud, “Hm, I don’t know. Work is kinda my only time to get rid of you.”

“Get rid of me? Baby, you need me.” He said, smugly.

“Alright fine. Is it open right now?”

“The open house ends in 30 minutes we can make it in time.” Beomgyu mumbled, glancing over to his watch.

“Fine.” You grunted.

—

The two of you made your way to the apartment Beomgyu had told you about. A laundry room, an island counter, a big enough living room to do late night acrobatics (Beomgyu does that when he’s drunk sometimes)—it almost felt too good to be true. But as you wandered through the space hand in hand, inspecting every corner, it wasn’t just good. It was perfect. The rent was within budget, and the apartment was a short walking distance from both your workplaces. It felt like everything was falling into place.

Until it wasn’t.

“No. NO!”

Both of you turned sharply toward the doorway, where Yeonjun stood with a look of pure horror on his face.

“I’m not having you two rabbits as neighbors,” he declared dramatically, crossing his arms. “I’ve already suffered enough when I stay over at Beomgyu’s place.”

“We never ask you to stay over,” Beomgyu shot back, rolling his eyes. “You choose to do it.”

Yeonjun scoffed, pointing an accusing finger at you. “It’s not my fault she runs my social media page and always posts updates late at night!”

You shrugged innocently. “Well, if we’re neighbors, we could communicate much more easily, don’t you think?”

Yeonjun narrowed his eyes. “No. Absolutely not. I can’t possibly have the world’s most annoyingly clingy couple living next door to me. It’s a nightmare scenario.”

Beomgyu sighed dramatically and stepped forward, throwing an arm around Yeonjun’s shoulders. “Yeonjunnie~,” he cooed, tilting his head and batting his eyelashes. “I love you.”

You grinned, quickly sliding to Yeonjun’s other side and clinging to his arm. “We love you~,” you added, mirroring Beomgyu’s syrupy tone.

Yeonjun looked utterly betrayed, glancing between the two of you as though you’d just sentenced him to a lifetime of torment. “I’m calling Taehyun and asking him to raise the rent,” he grumbled, attempting to shake you both off.

Beomgyu gasped, clutching his chest as if he’d been mortally wounded. “You’d betray me like this? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Everything we’ve been through? We’re only friends because this freak decided to date another freak,” Yeonjun retorted, glaring at the two of you.

“Hey!” you pouted, crossing your arms. “Don’t say that. He’s a cute little freak though, isn’t he?” you added with a grin, reaching over to pinch Beomgyu’s cheeks.

“I’m going to throw up,” Yeonjun groaned, looking genuinely pained.

“Don’t do that on my new carpet,” Beomgyu warned, straightening up and swatting your hands away.

“What do you mean, your new carpet—wait…no.” Yeonjun’s eyes widened in horror.

“Yes.” Beomgyu smirked smugly. “Hi neighbour!”

“Fuck this shit! I’m moving out,” Yeonjun declared, throwing his hands in the air and storming toward the door.

“Love you too, Yeonjunnie~,” Beomgyu called after him, laughter bubbling in his voice.

“Enjoy your new carpet,” Yeonjun shot back, slamming the door behind him.

—

Beomgyu sat cross-legged on the floor, holding a paintbrush like it was a weapon, his cheek already smeared with a streak of light blue. “Baby, stop!” he warned, narrowing his eyes at you.

“You painted my face first?!” you exclaimed, holding up your own paintbrush, dripping with pale yellow.

Before he could react, you swiped the brush across his nose, leaving behind a bright streak. Beomgyu gasped dramatically, dropping his brush to grab yours, but you jumped up and dodged, laughing.

“Come back here!” he yelled, chasing after you around the room.

You yelped, trying to escape, but he caught you around the waist and spun you around, both of you laughing so hard you could barely breathe. “Hm, I win.” he said triumphantly, dipping his finger in paint and smearing a heart on your cheek.

“Gyu!” you squealed, trying to wriggle free, but he only held you closer, grinning at his handiwork.

“Perfect,” he declared, his face close to yours now. His grin softened as he looked at you, his hand resting on your cheek. “Okay, you’re the cutest thing I’ve ever painted.”

Your laughter faded into a warm smile, your heart fluttering. “You’re such a dork,” you whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

You looked up at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes, and dipped your hands into the blue paint. Pressing your palms gently against his lips, you smirked. “How about we make green?” you teased.

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, dipping his fingers into the yellow paint and smearing it across your lips in retaliation. “Challenge accepted,” he said with a grin.

“We’re definitely going to get serious stomach pains from toxic paint,” you muttered, unable to hide your laugh.

He leaned in anyway, pulling you closer as his hands rested gently on your waist. His lips pressed against yours, the faint, messy blend of colors forgotten in the warmth of the kiss.

After a few more playful smears of paint and an awful lot of kisses, the two of you sat on the floor, finally taking a breather. Beomgyu pulled out a small wooden frame from one of the boxes, holding it up with a sheepish smile.

The bright yellow headphones sat perfectly preserved in the shadow box. “I thought we could hang this on the wall,” Beomgyu said softly, his voice laced with nostalgia.

You stared at it, your heart swelling with emotion. “You kept them?”

“Of course,” he murmured, his tone quieter now. “It’s cute how you gave these to me on our first anniversary, don’t you think?”

“Well, you did say the theme was memories,” you said with a small smile. “And I think meeting you is one of my favorite ones.”

“Who are you, and what have you done to my mean and sarcastic girlfriend?” Beomgyu teased, his lips twitching into a playful grin.

You rolled your eyes. “Remember how sweet you thought I was in the beginning?”

“You were sweet. For like…the first two months,” he said, feigning deep thought. “Your true colors came out right after I introduced you to Soobin.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve been mean way before that,” you laughed. “It’s called trying to impress the cute boy I liked.”

“You should win an Oscar for that performance,” he quipped.

“Against who? You?”

“Oh, please,” he shot back with mock indignation. “I’ve never pretended. I’m 100% authentic.”

“Laid back? Remember that? You were all like maybe I am laid back.”

“I am!”

“Baby, you scream and jump around the apartment until 2 a.m. You’re a menace.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not laid back,” he said, grinning. “Just means I’m loud.”

“Very loud. You’ve been pretending to be a soft boy this entire time, haven’t you?”

“You caught me,” he admitted with a laugh, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips.

After a brief struggle with the frame, he finally managed to hang it up on the wall. “Tada!” he announced proudly.

The two of you stepped back to admire it, your shoulders brushing as you stood close together. Beomgyu slid an arm around your waist and kissed the top of your head. “Welcome home, baby,” he murmured, his voice warm and tender.

“Welcome home, Gyu.”

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