guys i really wanna make my tumblr blog more aesthetic but im really not a graphic designer like at all. my creative juices start and end with writing i fear....
hello! i'm still pretty new around here, and i'm hoping to start posting my fanfictions soon. i'd love to get to know more people in the community, so if you're interested, would you like to be mutuals? 🤍
(i've basically been asking everyone who pops up on my dashboard ><)
hello my dear !! i would love to be mutuals with you and i'd be very happy to get to know you as well <33
i see your blog is still under construction, but once it's up i can't wait to see it and read your works ! if you plan to have a taglist i would love to be part of it ^^
thank you sm and i hope u have a great day ahead my dear !!
WHERE you and park sunghoon seem to be holding on to something... but is that something still worth holding on to? ʚɞ enha's 박성훈 x reader, wc: 1.7k, non-idol!au, established relationship, angst
content warnings: general themes of angst, mentioned and implied arguing, toxic dynamics, implied break up, this is unedited so there will be writing errors but i will get back to this eventually... maybe. idk. labyu <3
author's note: i found this while i was organizing my google drive, and this was originally written for ateez's wooyoung from when i was in my atiny era. but i edited it and made it for sunghoon bc this was just too good for it to remain in the depths of my gdrive + iirc this was super loosely based off the song "mad" by neyo. anywyas, as always happy reading !
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It's a little past two in the morning when the fight finally begins to burn out.
Not because either of you solved anything, but because there’s only so much screaming two people can do before exhaustion settles into their bones.
The apartment is heavy with silence now. The only sound accompanying your breathing being the ticking of the small wall clock hanging above the front door. The TV is still on in the background, muted, but neither of you bother to turn it off.
Sunghoon stands near the kitchen counter with his hands braced against the edge like he’s trying to hold himself together. You’re by the front door, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, pretending you’re not fighting tears from streaming down your face.
You can't even remember how the argument started this time.
Something small, probably. You've noticed that lately, it's always seems to be something small.
"You know what the worst part is?" Sunghoon asks suddenly cutting through the heavy silence, voice rough after hours of yelling. "Sometimes I think we’ve been unhappy for so long that whatever this is started feeling normal.”
You don't answer, not because you can't, but because a part of you agrees with him. A part of you is screaming at you that he's right.
Every fight has become muscle memory—sharp words thrown just to wound, silence used as punishment, and apologies swallowed down by pride before they can ever be spoken aloud.
Sunghoon laughs bitterly as he drags a hand through his hair for what seems to be the hundreth time tonight, "We seem upset all the time now."
The way he says it makes your chest ache and the room falls silent once again.
Outside your apartment, headlights flash through the windows before disappearing just as quickly. Somewhere down the street, a car door slams. Outside your apartment, life seems to keep moving like this moment doesn’t matter at all.
But it does.
It matters because you still love him. It matters because he still loves you. It matters because despite it all, you two are still holding out an arm for each other.
And maybe that's the problem.
"I..." Sunghoon pauses as he stares into space, before slowly bringing his eyes towards your frame, your back turned to him. "I can't do this anymore, Y/N."
This time, his voice doesn’t rise. It’s quiet—so quiet you almost don’t catch it at first. It's soft around the edges, worn down by exhaustion rather than anger. It sounds nothing like the sharp tone he’d been using moments prior.
It sounds like him. The him you used to know.
The boy who whispered sleepy “come back to bed's" at two in the morning whenver you couldn't sleep. The one who used to read messages over your shoulder and laugh at stupid videos as you scrolled. The one whose voice once made you feel safe no matter how terrible your day had been.
The him you fell in love with.
And for some reason, that hurts worse than the yelling ever did. Because it reminds you that the arguing wasn’t always what the two of you sounded like.
There was a time when conversations didn’t feel like battles to win. A time when silence between you felt comforting instead of punishing. A time when loving him felt easy in the way breathing is easy.
But somewhere along the way, love became measured by who apologized first. By slammed doors and unfinished conversations, and nights spent lying inches apart without touching.
You take a slow breath, though it does nothing to loosen the tightness in your chest. You finally force yourself to look at him—really look at him. One thing was extremely clear, Park Sunghoon was heartbroken.
Not in the dramatic way people look in movies, where grief arrives loudly and all at once. His heartbreak is quieter than that. It sits heavily in the way his shoulders slump, in the redness around his eyes, in the way he can’t seem to look at you for too long without having to look away again.
He looks like someone who has been holding on for so long that he no longer remembers what it feels like to let go. Like someone who kept searching for traces of the person he fell in love with inside every argument, every silence, every cruel word thrown across the room—only to come up empty each time.
And maybe what's equally frightening is realizing you probably look the same. Your throat tightens painfully, like your body is refecting the truth before your mind can fully accept it. Because this is really happening.
Not another temporary breakup thrown around in the heat of an argument. Not one of those nights where one of you storms out only to come back hours later softer, guiltier, still in love enough to try again. This one feels different.
Final.
The kind of final that settles quietly into a room before either person is ready to acknowledge it. Your eyes search his face desperately, looking for something—anger, hesitation, anything that might tell you he doesn’t mean it.
But all you find is exhaustion. Exhaustion that comes from trying too hard for too long. Exhaustion that love alone can’t seem to fix.
Your chest continues to ache so badly it almost feels difficult to breathe.
"So what?" you whisper, the words barely make it out.
You look him directly in the eyes, and suddenly you hate how familiar they still are. You know every expression he makes before it happens, every shift in his posture, every tiny flicker of emotion he tries to hide. Because after all this time, loving him is still the easiest thing your heart knows how to do.
"This is it?"
The question hangs between you both, fragile, and trembling. Not because you need clarification. But because some small, pathetic part of you is still waiting for him to say no. Still waiting for him to walk toward you instead of standing there across the room like a stranger wearing the face of someone you used to call home.
Sunghoon doesn't answer right away.
The silence stretches through the apartment slowly, filling every corner until it becomes unbearable. You can hear the rain against the windows again. The ticking of the wall clock. Your own heartbeat pounding hard enough in your ears to make you feel nauseous.
Sunghoon says nothing, because the silence became an answer all on it own.
Your lips press together as you nod once, small, and almost involuntary, like your body is reacting before your heart can catch up. Even though it feels like your chest is caving in around itself, even though part of you still wants to cross the room and beg him not to let this end here.
You nod anyways, even thought it feels like the world is closing in on itself.
"Fine," you breathe out softly. The word barely sound like yours.
You turn away from him again, forcing yourself to face the front door of your apartment instead of the look on his face. Then suddenly before you realize it, the distance between you and the front door feels impossibly short.
Too short for something that feels so permanent.
“I’m leaving.”
Even saying it aloud doesn’t feel real. Because this was supposed to be home.
Not just the apartment itself, but the life inside of it. The half-finished cup of coffee he left on the counter this morning. The blanket thrown messily across the couch from the movie you never finished watching. His shoes kicked carelessly beside yours near the door like there was always going to be another day after this one.
Your chest tightens painfully. But you don’t move.
You wait.
Maybe for him to stop you.
Maybe for him to finally break before you do.
Maybe for him to cross the room, grab your wrist, and tell you that neither of you mean any of this—that you’re both just angry, tired, and saying things you’ll regret tomorrow morning.
You wait for him to love you loudly enough to make staying easier than leaving. And for a horrible, fragile moment, you let yourself believe he just might.
But Sunghoon just stands there.
You can practically feel him staring, yet he still says nothing. He doesn’t come closer nor does he ask you to stay. And little by little, hope starts collapsing inside your chest until all that’s left is the sting of humiliation for wanting him to stop you in the first place.
So with one final shaky breath, you reach for the door. Your hand trembles against the knob. You tell yourself it’s because you’re angry. Because it’s cold. Because after hours of fighting your body, hear, and soul are simply exhausted.
But deep down, you know it’s because some part of you still doesn’t want to open it.
Before stepping out, you glance back at him, and the life you two shared, one last time. The apartment feels unbearably small. Like every memory the two of you ever made is trapped inside these walls, pressing in on you from every direction at once. You see flashes of all the versions of yourselves that existed here—the late-night laughter from the kitchen, sleepy kisses before heading off for work, the nights spent tangled together on the couch after pointless arguments that never seemed to matter for very long.
You think about how neither of you ever really learned how to stay angry at each other. No matter how bad the fight got, one of you always seemed to give in first. One of you always reached across the bed in the middle of the night. Always chose love before pride.
Until now.
Sunghoon finally speaks.
“Of course you’re leaving.” The words are almost mumbled under his breath, but they cut through the silence with terrifying precision.
You freeze.
His eyes remain fixed somewhere past you, unfocused, distant—like looking directly at you would make this too real to survive.
“That’s all you know how to do.”
The words hit you harder than anything ever has. Because they aren’t loud. Aren’t cruel in the way that anger usually is. They sound tired. Defeated.
Your grip tightens painfully around the doorknob as tears burn behind your eyes.
Part of you wants to turn around. Part of you wants to run back to him and tell him that leaving was never what you wanted—that every step away from him has always felt wrong, even and most especially now.
But neither of you move.
Deep down, you know he wanted—wants—you to stay. And deep down, you just want him to ask.
But the door closes behind you anyways.
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please do not repost, reupload, or translate my work anywhere else on the internet. i also do not approve uploading my work on any ai site. salamuch <33
WHERE sim jaeyun just so happens to be the driver's world champion ⭑enha's 심재윤 x reader, wc: 4.0k, f1!au, fluff, very light angst
content warnings: lots of mentions of homesickness, probably some grammar/spelling errors whoops
author's note: i have a confession to make.. i was rereading my enha college!hcs and i wasn't really happy with them i fear so in the meantime i have decided to post my f1 hcs while i reformat everything else huhu
anywyas !! i cannot describe to you that absolute FLOW STATE i was in typing this all out. laying stomach down on my bed typing away at one in the morning, thinking about f1 driver!jake, im not even joking i was kicking my feet and giggling to myself. me being my own target audience once again JSDJSDJ but i hope you enjoy and happy reading <33
other members: jay
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formula one driver!jake moved from his hometown of brisbane to europe at only fourteen years old to start racing in the feeder series. a decision that sounded exciting on paper but was honestly the most terrifying thing formula one driver!jake has ever done in his entire life.
there were nights where formula one driver!jake questioned whether he was making the right decision, especially during those early years where nothing felt stable yet. he often jokes about it in interviews teasing his parents on why they let him move to another continent all on his own.
but looking back on it now, formula one driver!jake wouldn’t change it for anything. as difficult and lonely as those first few years were, they shaped him into the person he is both on and off the track.
there’s a quiet kind of pride formula one driver!jake carries whenever he thinks about how far he’s come. from being a homesick fourteen-year-old all alone in europe to standing on the formula one grid. it’s the kind of accomplishment that never fully sinks in for him, even at his grown age.
ironically, formula one driver!jake never originally dreamed of becoming a racing driver at all. if anything, he thought he’d grow up to become an engineer someday because building things fascinated him far more than anything else.
as a kid, formula one driver!jake spent hours racing remote control cars with other children around his neighborhood in brisbane, constantly taking apart his rc cars afterwards just to figure out how to make them faster. formula one driver!jake loved the process of tinkering almost as much as the racing itself, always wanting to understand why something worked the way it did.
the thing that changed everything for him was actually a complete coincidence. one afternoon, his older brother had plans to go go-karting with friends, and formula one driver!jake wasn’t even supposed to come along until their parents insisted his brother take him too. it’s the kind of story formula one driver!jake laughs about now because nobody in his family could’ve possibly known that one last-minute decision would end up changing the course of his entire life.
because the second formula one driver!jake got into a kart for the first time, something immediately clicked into place for him. what started as curiosity quickly turned into obsession, and that obsession only grew stronger after attending the melbourne grand prix with his family not long after.
formula one driver!jake still talks about remembering the sound most vividly—the first time he heard the roar of the engines echoing through the circuit, loud enough to shake through his chest. and standing there in the grandstands, watching the cars fly past for the first time, formula one driver!jake realised that building cars was no longer enough for him anymore.
formula one driver!jake first caught the attention of a senior member of the mercedes team during his time racing in british f4. he didn’t even win the championship that year, but the thing that stood out about him was how quickly he improved. race after race, he adapted faster than everyone expected him to which earned formula one driver!jake a spot in the mercedes development program.
formula one driver!jake was defintely a prema kid through and through. all eyes were on him with everyone expecting that he would be the next driver to graduate from the formula 2 series and make his way to the grid. formula one driver!jake did end up winning the f2 championship in his rookie season which basically cemented what everyone had already suspected for years: that he was destined for formula one.
honestly formula one driver!jake's career followed the classic mercedes driver pipeline: junior academy driver, then a stint at williams, before eventually making his way onto mercedes itself.
despite growing up in brisbane, formula one driver!jake made the decision early on in his career to compete under the south korean flag rather than the australian one. it confused a lot of people at first—especially because he was often labelled as "the aussie kid" during his time competing in the feeder series—but for formula one driver!jake, the choice had never really been about rejecting where he grew up. if anything, it was about embracing a part of himself that he felt people often overlooked.
formula one driver!jake has talked about what it felt like growing up as a diasporic asian kid in motorsport spaces. there weren’t many people around him who looked like him, and there definitely weren’t many drivers at the highest level that he could point to and say, “that could be me someday.” choosing to race under the south korean flag was formula one driver!jake's way of becoming that representation for someone else.
more than anything, formula one driver!jake wanted younger asian kids to see someone like them succeeding on one of the biggest stages in the world. he wanted them to feel like they didn’t have to separate parts of themselves to belong somewhere. even now, years into formula one driver!jake's career, he still says one of the most meaningful things to him is hearing from fans who tell him they started karting or got into motorsport because they saw him racing. because at the end of the day, that was always the point.
formula one driver!jake is fast—i know that seems like stating the obvious since we're talking about formula one drivers but let me cook! formula one driver!jake is the kind of fast that catches people off guard even when they’re expecting it.
there’s something incredibly sharp about the way formula one driver!jake drives with every movement feeling immediate and precise. one of the reasons why engineers love working with him so much is because formula one driver!jake rarely hesitates once he commits to something on track.
formula one driver!jake's reflexes are honestly considered some of the best on the grid, which naturally makes his race starts one of his biggest strengths. formula one driver!jake is notoriously difficult to defend against in the opening seconds of a race because he reacts almost instantly to the lights going out.
if you searched “jake sim best moments” on youtube, half the compilation would probably just be clips of him launching off the start and overtaking two or three cars before the first corner even approaches. commentators always talks about how aggressive yet controlled he can be during starts, because somehow formula one driver!jake always seems to know exactly where the gap will open before everyone else does.
honestly, that’s what makes formula one driver!jake terrifying whenever he qualifies on pole. because if he already has clean air ahead of him, most drivers know there’s a very real chance they won’t see the back of his car again for a good portion of the race. once he gets into rhythm at the front, formula one driver!jake becomes incredibly difficult to pressure.
even now, years into formula one driver!jake's career, that little kid who loved taking things apart and figuring out how they worked never really disappeared. one of the reasons engineers love working with formula one driver!jake so much is because he’s genuinely obsessed with understanding every part of the car beyond just driving it quickly.
formula one driver!jake spends an insane amount of time with his mechanics and engineers in the garage, constantly asking questions, studying data, and wanting to know exactly why the car behaves the way it does in certain conditions.
while some drivers prefer to leave the technical side to the team, formula one driver!jake throws himself fully into it. he’ll spend countless hours running simulations, staying late after sessions to go over the data, and sitting with engineers discussing setup changes in ridiculous detail.
because to formula one driver!jake, finding speed has always been just as much about understanding the machine as it is driving it. there’s almost something obsessive about the way formula one driver!jake approaches it sometimes—but it’s also the exact reason why mercedes trusts his feedback as much as they do.
bonus time! despite being one of the fastest drivers on the grid, formula one driver!jake is unsurprisingly still an enormous nerd at heart, which becomes painfully obvious every time grill the grid rolls around at the start of the season. while most drivers treat it like a funny little media obligation, formula one driver!jake approaches it with an almost concerning level of competitiveness because he genuinely wants to win. he rewatches old races, remembers the most random statistics imaginable, and gets weirdly locked in over questions nobody else takes seriously.
okay back to business. formula one driver!jake is a media darling DOWN. and honestly, the fans eat him up every single time. there’s something about the contrast between who he is on track versus who he is off it that people find endlessly charming. because while formula one driver!jake is ruthless once the visor comes down, the second he steps out of the car, he’s all soft smiles, awkward laughter, and boyish charm that somehow makes even the most rehearsed media segments feel natural.
the nickname “mercedes’ golden boy” started as something the media threw around jokingly, but it stuck almost immediately because it fit him so perfectly. formula one driver!jake has that polished image mercedes loves: talented, composed, and incredibly marketable. but still approachable enough that fans feel attached to him.
and honestly, it also helps that formula one driver!jake is ridiculously good-looking (wbk dafuq). people online are constantly talking about his sharp features, jet black hair, and ridiculously chiselled jaw like he walked straight out of a campaign shoot instead of the paddock.
interviewers enjoy talking to formula one driver!jake because he always knows exactly what to say without sounding robotic, sponsors adore him because he photographs ridiculously well, and fans love him because despite all the glamour surrounding him, formula one driver!jake still comes across as genuinely sincere.
formula one driver!jake is naturally expressive in a way that makes him impossible not to watch. whether it’s the little grin he gives after stealing pole position, the way he instinctively reaches to hug his mechanics after a win, or the clips of him laughing uncontrollably during team content, people just swoon every single time.
while formula one driver!jake pretends the attention doesn’t affect him much, everyone in the paddock knows he secretly enjoys being loved by the crowd. not in an arrogant way—more like he still hasn’t fully gotten used to the fact that people care about him that much. underneath all the polished interviews and perfectly curated media appearances, there’s still a part of formula one driver!jake that feels like the same fourteen-year-old kid from brisbane who boarded a plane to europe with nothing but talent and the desperate hope that he was good enough to make it.
maybe that’s why people love formula one driver!jake as much as they do. because beneath the “mercedes golden boy” image and all the glamour that surrounds him, there’s still something incredibly human about the way he carries himself. every achievement feels earned and there's this quiet sense that formula one driver!jake is grateful to be there.
nothing captures that feeling more than the moment formula one driver!jake finally wins his first world drivers’ championship. because suddenly every story people had ever told about him comes full circle all at once. the homesick fourteen-year-old who left brisbane alone, the prema prodigy everyone pinned their expectations on, the williams junior trying to prove he deserved a seat at the front of the grid—they all feel like different versions of the same kid standing on top of the world.
the broadcasts replay old clips of formula one driver!jake karting as a child while commentators talk about how far he’s come, the cameras keep cutting to his parents crying in the garage, and somewhere over the radio his engineers and toto are practically screaming with excitement. but formula one driver!jake himself almost looks overwhelmed climbing out of the car, like even after everything he’s accomplished, part of him still can’t fully believe this is real.
formula one driver!jake never carried himself like someone who thought success was guaranteed. every step of his career felt like something he had to earn. and maybe that’s why formula one driver!jake's first championship becomes such an emotional moment not just for his fans, but for the paddock as a whole. it doesn’t feel like watching a driver simply win a title—it feels like watching years of sacrifice finally paying off.
from leaving home at fourteen, to going through the mercedes journey, to becoming one of the most beloved drivers on the grid, formula one driver!jake's career was built on proving that he belonged in spaces people like him weren’t always expected to occupy. and in the end, maybe that’s what defines him most—not the trophies or the talent, but the fact that somewhere along the way, that kid from brisbane really did make it.
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a little bonus scene because i totally forgot about the "x reader" part until i was editing all of the hcs:
The music in the ballroom is too loud by the time you finally sit down.
The bass pulses beneath the floor hard enough to vibrate through your heels while groups of former classmates crowd around the open bar, laughing too loudly over champagne and stories that sound rehearsed from years of retelling. The entire reunion feels strange in a way you can’t fully explain. Familiar, but distant. Like walking back into a life that stopped belonging to you a long time ago.
You regret coming a little already. Not because it’s awful, but because being back at your old boarding school feels oddly disorienting. Like stepping into a version of yourself you barely recognize anymore.
Across the ballroom, your old friends are screaming lyrics to some early 2000s throwback near the dance floor, arms linked together while someone records blurry videos for Instagram stories nobody will watch twice. Meanwhile, you stay tucked away at your table near the edge of the room, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone while nursing a drink and finally giving your feet a break.
You’re halfway through replying to your roommate’s text when a shadow falls over the table.
“Is this seat taken?”
The voice catches you off guard enough that you glance up immediately.
And—Oh.
Jake Sim.
For a second, your brain genuinely struggles to process it. Because the last time you’d seen him properly, the two of you were seventeen years old and buried somewhere in finals season. He’d walked into class late with messy hair, glasses slipping low on his nose, and his school blazer hanging off one shoulder while half asleep from another flight back from... Honestly who knows?
Now he’s standing in front of you in a black suit that probably costs more than your university tuition ever did, somehow broader now, sharper around the edges, stupidly handsome in the kind of effortless way magazines love.
And yet somehow still unmistakably Jake.
You blink once. Twice.
Jake’s expression shifts almost immediately, a sheepish smile tugging at his mouth like he thinks he interrupted something important.
“Oh—sorry,” he says quickly, glancing toward the empty chair. “I thought—”
“No,” you interrupt a little too fast, your eyes widen slightly.
Heat crawls up your neck almost instantly. “No, it’s free,” you clarify, your voice much softer as you gesture toward the seat beside you. “My friends are just over there.”
You motion vaguely toward the dance floor where your classmates are collectively losing their minds. Jake follows your gaze before laughing quietly under his breath and sliding into the chair beside you.
Up close, he smells faintly like expensive cologne and something clean. You hate that you notice.
“Y/N, right?” he asks after a moment.
Your eyebrows lift before you can stop them. It’s not like you and Jake were strangers back in school exactly. Your circles overlapped enough that you saw each other constantly, but most of your memories of him involve watching him leave. Flying out for race weekends across Europe while everyone else stayed behind stressing over assignments and university applications.
Karting Championships. F3. F2. Always gone.
Yet somehow still ending every semester on the honour roll like some academically gifted cryptid nobody could fully explain.
“Yeah,” you answer, unable to hide your surprise completely. “Nice seeing you, Jake.”
This time, he looks slightly caught off guard.
You notice the tiny shift in his expression and laugh softly. “What?” you ask.
Jake rubs the back of his neck almost shyly. “I just didn’t think you’d remember me.”
You stare at him flatly for a second.
“Jake,” you deadpan. “You’re literally the reigning world champion.”
That makes him laugh properly. Not the polished, media-trained laugh you’ve seen clipped into interview edits online, but something quieter than that. Warmer, even. His head ducks slightly like he’s embarrassed by the reminder.
“Right,” he mutters. “Fair point.”
And suddenly there’s that strange disconnect again. Because this is Jake Sim. World champion. Mercedes driver. The face plastered across billboards and magazine covers and sports edits all over social media. Millions of people know his name now. But sitting beside you, he still somehow feels familiar. Like the same quiet boy who used to sit near the back of class with dark circles beneath his eyes after flying back from race weekends halfway across the world.
“You look different,” you admit before thinking too hard about it.
Jake glances over immediately. “Different good or different bad?”
You pretend to consider it carefully, “Different expensive.”
His laugh comes out embarrassingly loud this time, drawing a few glances from nearby tables.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant to be.”
A comfortable silence settles between you after that. Not awkward, just easy.
You take another sip from your drink before glancing toward him again. “So,” you say carefully, “how does it feel being back here after all these years?”
Jake leans back slightly in his chair, eyes drifting around the ballroom.
“Honestly?” he admits quietly. “Weird.”
You hum softly in agreement.
“I spent most of high school leaving this place.”
“You were barely here.”
“I know.” His smile turns sheepish again. “Sometimes I think half the teachers forgot I existed.”
You snort softly. “Mrs. Bennett definitely didn’t.”
Jake’s eyes widen immediately.
“What? Why?”
“Look at him," you laugh under your breath, mimicking your former teacher dramatically, "Racing across Europe and still getting higher scores than all of you.”
Jake physically groans, dropping his head into one hand.
“Oh my god.”
You laugh quietly into your glass, and for the first time that night, you realize you’re not checking your phone anymore. The conversation just… flows, easy in a way you didn’t expect. Maybe because neither of you really knew each other well enough back then to have expectations now. There’s no pressure to recreate an old friendship or pretend you were closer than you actually were. It’s just two people talking, catching up, and existing beside each other without forcing it into something nostalgic.
“So what have you been up to?” Jake asks after a while, turning slightly toward you in his chair. “Besides surviving this reunion.”
You laugh softly. “Barely surviving, actually.”
His mouth tugs upward.
“I’m graduating uni this year,” you explain. “Assuming my thesis doesn’t kill me first.”
Jake’s eyebrows lift immediately, “Seriously?”
You nod. “And hopefully graduate studies after that.”
“Oh my god, congratulations! That’s insane,” he says genuinely, leaning forward slightly now. “What are you studying again?”
The fact that he seems sincerely interested in what you've been up to sends warmth curling unexpectedly through your chest. So you tell him. About your field. Your research. The professors you love and the ones you avoid. The late-night study sessions that somehow turn into existential crises at three in the morning. The possibility of moving abroad eventually if further studies work out.
And Jake listens, actually listens. Not politely waiting for his turn to speak, not distracted by his phone or scanning the room over your shoulder. His attention stays entirely on you, occasionally asking questions that catch you off guard because they’re thoughtful. Curious in a way that feels genuine.
His chin rests lightly against his hand while you ramble, eyes fixed on you so steadily it almost makes you self-conscious. “Wow,” he murmurs once you finally finish. “You’re really passionate about it, huh?”
You smile a little into your drink. “I guess I am.”
“I think it’s cool,” he says quietly. “The way you talk about it.”
Something about the sincerity in his voice suddenly makes you very aware of how close he’s sitting. You clear your throat lightly before nudging the conversation away from yourself.
“What about you?” you ask. “Besides casually becoming one of the most famous athletes on the planet.”
His ears immediately start turning pink.
He shakes his head, smiling to himself before finally answering properly. “I don’t know,” he admits after a moment. “I just really love it.”
The way he says it makes your teasing fade almost immediately. Because suddenly he isn’t Mercedes’ golden boy or the face constantly splashed across sports headlines.
He’s just Jake, and for the first time that night, you see how much he means it.
“There’s honestly nothing else like it,” he continues softly, eyes drifting somewhere distant for a moment. “The speed. The adrenaline. The pressure.” A quiet smile pulls at his mouth. “Being in the car just makes sense to me.”
You watch him carefully as he speaks, noticing the way he relaxes the more he talks about racing. Like this is the version of himself he understands best.
“I can only imagine,” you say quietly.
Jake glances toward you again,“You’ve never been to a race before?”
You shake your head. “No, actually.”
His eyebrows lift in genuine surprise.
“I mean,” you admit sheepishly, “I’ve watched compilations on YouTube. But that’s about it.”
Jake stares at you for a second like he genuinely can’t process the information, “You’ve never watched a full race?” he asks again, leaning forward slightly.
“Listen,” you laugh softly. “Not all of us can burn a few hundred bucks to watch fast cars.”
That earns another laugh from him, before something shifts slightly in his expression. A tiny spark behind his eyes that you notice immediately.
“Silverstone is coming up soon,” he says after a moment, trying—and failing—to sound casual.
You blink slowly. “Yeah, I heard,” you reply with a small smile. “Good luck.”
Jake inhales quietly. And despite the dim lighting spilling across the ballroom, you still catch the faint pink creeping across the tips of his ears beneath his dark hair.
“I…” He pauses briefly before looking at you again.
Suddenly shy in a way that feels strangely endearing for someone photographed in front of millions of people every weekend.
“I’d really love to invite you to watch.”
Now it's you who feels that familiar warmth on the tips of your ears as your breath catches slightly.
Jake scratches the back of his neck again as a familiar flush paints his cheeks, before adding quickly, “I promise I’ll do my best to make it worthwhile.”
⠀⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏ ⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏⠀ ͏· · ୨୧ · ·
please do not repost, reupload, or translate my work anywhere else on the internet. i also do not approve uploading my work on any ai site. salamuch <33
WHERE yang jungwon is your best friend, whom you may or may not have a crush on... but he doesn't need to know that, right? ʚɞ enha's 양정원 x reader, wc: 1.2k, non-idol!au, fluff
content warnings: none besides writing mistakes whoops, but if i miss anything please lmk!
author's note: taking a break from the headcanons to post my first written (idk what to call this genre...) work, jinjja nervous... i am 100% sure there are gonna be sm writing errors in this, i tried proofreading this but my brain is tired af andi just wanted to post a draft today so... anyways !! i had sm fun writing this and i hope i captured the feeling of having a crush accurately !! spoiler alert there will be a part two for this hehe happy reading yeorobun <33
part two (this fic can be read as a stand alone tho :D)
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Jungwon often tells you that you're too stubborn for your own good.
Now don't get him wrong, it's not because he dislikes it. Quite the opposite, actually. Jungwon loves the way you stand your ground, the way you never let people bend your opinions into something smaller just to make them comfortable. It's one of the first things he noticed about you back in high school, and somehow, years later, it's still one of his favourite things about you.
But sometimes, talking to you feels like arguing with a brick wall.
Like right now.
"Wonnie," the nickname slips from your mouth with the same effortless fondness it always has. The same nickname that's made his chest tighten ever since you were sixteen and sharing cheap convenience store ramen after class.
You cup his cheeks with both hands, trying to force him to look at you properly, but Jungwon only turns his face away with a groan.
"Wonnie, please look at me—"
"Y/N," he sighs, "my answer is still no."
You flop backward against the couch dramatically, throwing one arm over your eyes. "You're impossible."
"And you're insane."
The moment your hands leave his face, the warmth disappears too quickly. And, Jungwon hates that he notices it instantly. He shifts closer anyway, resting a hand against your thigh in an attempt to soften the rejection.
"I could give you a million reasons why that was a terrible idea," he says quietly, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your jeans. "You just never listen to me."
You continue sulking, lips pressed into a stubborn pout, and he tries — and fails—not to smile at how ridiculous you look.
"Oh, so now you're laughing at me?"
"A little."
"You're the worst best friend ever."
"And yet, you keep me around."
"Unfortunately."
The teasing comes naturally. Easy. Familiar. It always has with him.
That's the problem.
Because sometimes Jungwon laughs at your jokes and you forget that best friends aren't supposed to memorize the exact shape of each other's smiles. Sometimes he brushes your hair away from your face so gently it makes your heart ache for days afterward. Sometimes he looks at you a little too softly.
And sometimes you think maybe, just maybe, he feels it too.
But five years is a long time to carry feelings someone never asked for. So you bury them beneath jokes and banter, late-night phone calls, and every “Wonnie” you pretend doesn’t mean more than it should.
Tonight, though, your frustration burns hotter than caution.
"Well," you mutter, staring at the ceiling, "I've been telling you that I love you for the past five years and you've never listened to that either."
Silence follows almost instantly. The kind that crashes into the room all at once.
Jungwon’s thumb stills against your thigh.
Your own heartbeat becomes deafening the moment the words register in your brain.
Oh.
Oh no.
Your eyes widen as horror crawls up your spine.
The realization hits with full force, hot embarrassment rushing from the tips of your ears down your neck. The living room suddenly feels too quiet, too warm, and too small.
And the worst part is that Jungwon hasn't said anything. Hasn't moved. Hasn't even blinked.
Mortification crawls up your spine so violently that your body reacts before your brain can catch up. With a strangled noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper, you whip around and bury your face into the couch cushion, as if disappearing into the fabric is a perfectly reasonable solution to confessing to your best friend by accident.
"Delete that," you mumble into the cushion. "Delete that from your memory right now."
Still nothing. The silence stretches, and somehow that hurts more than if he'd just laughed at you. You reason with yourself—maybe he's shocked, maybe he's trying to figure out how to reject you without ruining the friendship—and the thought makes your grip tighten against the pillow, heat radiating off your face even the air conditioner can't fix.
Why would you say that? And more importantly, why would you say that out loud?
You squeeze your eyes shut harder, wishing desperately for the floor to open up beneath you.
"Actually," you continue, words spilling out only because he still hasn't said anything, "let's collectively pretend that never happened. Forever. People recover from worse things."
"Y/N…"
His voice is soft. Too soft. Not awkward, not disgusted. Soft enough to make your chest tighten painfully.
So you freeze.
The couch dips slightly beside you before you hear the quiet rustle of fabric, followed by the sound of Jungwon lowering himself onto the floor next to your head. Then his hand—warm, gentle—comes to rest against your shoulder, thumb brushing slowly back and forth like he isn't entirely sure this moment is real.
Because it isn't, not to him. As you buried your face in his couch cushions, Jungwon genuinely wondered if he'd imagined the last five minutes—if his hopeless, painfully lovesick brain had finally snapped after years of wanting you quietly, carefully, and from a distance he forced himself to keep. Because to Jungwon, there was no way you'd actually said that. No way you'd just looked him dead in the eyes and admitted the thing he'd spent years trying not to hope for.
'Maybe you'd meant it jokingly. Maybe his stupidly hopeful heart had twisted your words into something they were never supposed to be,' he reasons with himself.
But then he noticed it—the faint pink slowly spreading across the tips of your ears. And everything inside him stopped.
Because if there was one thing that Jungwon was sure of, it was that he knew you. Knew every version of your embarrassment. Knew the difference between your fake dramatic whining and the genuine kind that made you hide your face from the world.
This was real. You meant it.
The realization hit him hard enough to steal the air from his lungs. Years of loving you silently, years of swallowing words at the tip of his tongue whenever you smiled at him too sweetly. Years of convincing himself that being your best friend was enough, because at least he still got to stay.
And now you were telling him—no. Not telling him. You'd been telling him, all along.
The thought made his chest ache in the best and most unbearable way possible.
"I'm serious," you mumble weakly into the cushion once again. "This is genuinely my villain origin story."
A small sound escapes him—not quite a laugh, more disbelief wrapped in fondness.
"I can't look at you right now," you confess miserably.
"Why?" he asks, and the question makes your embarrassment spike and your heart stutter at the same time.
"You're unbelievable," he murmurs.
You groan into the pillow. "Please let me die with dignity."
“Y/N,” he calls out quietly once more.
You hate the way your stomach flips at the sound of your name on his lips. Especially now. And most especially like this.
His hand stills on your shoulder for just a second. When he speaks again, his voice is gentler than you've ever heard it.
"Please look at me."
Something in the way he says it makes your chest ache—not pity, not discomfort, something else. Something terrifyingly hopeful. Slowly, reluctantly, you lift your head just enough to meet his eyes.
And Jungwon looks completely undone.
"What did you just say?"
What did you just say?
⠀⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏ ⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏⠀ ͏⋆｡‧˚ʚ ୨ৎ ɞ˚‧｡⋆
please do not repost, reupload, or translate my work anywhere else on the internet. i also do not approve uploading my work on any ai site. salamuch <33
hello i love your writing so much 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 i was wondering if you are accepting requests for enhypen and if you plan to continue the f1 hcs? thank you and i cant wait to read your other works!
omgg thank you so much my dear <33 im so so glad you enjoy reading them !!
for the f1 headcanons (and the uni hcs), i will be uploading for all of the members + heeseung eventually so please stay tuned for that !! admittedly, it moved to the back of my queued posts bc i wasn't super happy with the formatting so i redid it huhu, but i have other stuff queued up so i hope you also look out for that <33
as for requests, idk how to answer this one bc while i would love to accept requests, im not sure if i have any time for it bc im a full-time working student :(( the only reason i get to post consistently is because all of my work, as of the moment, are queued posts of old drafts. but nonetheless, please feel free to send in ideas though, i can't promise i will get to them right away but i can promise that i will try to ^^
omg yess mamon from either brand is pretty good though i grew up eating more goldilocks mamons so i usually buy from there. a lot of people usually associate mamon as a breakfast food or something kids bring to school as a snack, so it's nostalgic for a lot of filos.
what is it about mayo in sisig you can't get behind?
i personally think that when you put mayo in sisig, it overpowers everything else. and honestly its such a shame bc i feel like every resto in metro manila puts mayo in their sisig, especially for their tofu sisig.
if the goal is to make the sisig a little creamier (?? idk what adjective to use im sorry), i think an egg does the job perfectly. it doesn't really overpower the pork/the onions, it makes the sisig not so dry, it's just better imo. no judgement to those who put/prefer mayo on their sisig tho, but i've always been someone who likes egg with their sisig <33
WHERE yang jungwon definitely knows you have a crush on him.. ʚɞ enha's 양정원 x reader, wc: 0.7k, non-idol!au, fluff
content warnings: none besides writing mistakes whoops, but if i miss anything please lmk!
author's note: as promised here's the part 2 of my previous junwon fanfic... im not really proud of this one tbh i just felt the last one needed something more but idk if this was the right ending but oh whale !! also i really love these gradient colours oml theyre so cutieful <33 but anywyas happy reading
part one (this fic can be read as a stand alone tho :D)
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Jungwon’s hand stays firm against your shoulder, steady enough to ground you, as though he’s afraid that if he loosens his grip even slightly, you’ll disappear before he can fully process what just happened.
“Y/N…”
His voice is impossibly soft—too soft for the way his fingers tremble ever so slightly against your skin. His hand slides upward carefully until it cups your cheek instead, thumb brushing gentle strokes beneath your eye.
“Please look at me.”
You hesitate.
Every instinct in your body screams at you not to—because looking at Jungwon now, after accidentally confessing five years worth of feelings like some kind of sleep-deprived idiot, sounds genuinely terrifying.
But he says your name again so quietly that your resolve crumbles almost immediately. That’s always been your first mistake when it comes to him.
You slowly peel your hands away from your face, already regretting every decision you’ve made this afternoon.
And then you see him.
The soft brown eyes you’ve spent years memorizing without meaning to. The eyes that always crinkle first before he laughs. The eyes that somehow manage to look at you like you’re something precious without even realizing it. The same eyes you fell in love with long before you ever understood what love was supposed to feel like.
Your breath catches painfully in your throat.
Because Jungwon is looking at you like he’s the one overwhelmed here. Like your confession knocked the air out of him too.
Damn you, Yang Jungwon.
“Hi,” he says softly, the tiny smile on his lips deepens instantly, dimples appearing so suddenly it almost feels unfair. His eyes curve into warm crescents, and for one devastating moment, he looks so fond of you that your chest physically aches.
You should look away. You want to. You want to throw yourself back into the couch cushions and never emerge again because surely this level of embarrassment qualifies as fatal.
But you can’t. Not when he's looking at you like that.
“Forget it,” you mumble weakly, though the words come out far less convincing than you intended.
He lets out a quiet laugh under his breath—not mocking, never mocking. Just soft disbelief mixed with something so unbearably affectionate that it makes your stomach twist.
“Forget it?” he repeats quietly.
You immediately try to retreat backward into the couch again, but his hand on your cheek keeps you there—not forcefully, just enough to stop you from hiding.
“Y/N…”
The way he says your name this time nearly destroys you. His voice drops softer, warmer, almost breathless as he leans closer, slowly closing the distance between you until all you can focus on is him.
Youe head begins to spin as your heartbeat rings in your ears.
His face is only inches away now. Close enough for you to notice the faint twinkle in his eyes. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. Close enough that one small movement forward would—
“The person I’ve been in love with since freshman year,” he murmurs, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face an unbearable tenderness, “just told me they love me back.”
Your entire body stills.
The world stills.
Because for a second, you genuinely think you misheard him.
Jungwon watches the realization hit you in real time, eyes softening almost immediately at your stunned expression. And then he smiles—small, shy. Completely unlike the composed and goofy version of himself you’re used to seeing.
“How could I ever forget that?” he whispers.
The words settle into your chest all at once, warm and overwhelming and impossibly real. You stare at him, lips parted slightly, but nothing comes out. Because the Yang Jungwon—the boy you’ve loved quietly for years, the boy you convinced yourself would never feel the same—is looking at you like you hung the stars yourself.
And suddenly, all those years of loving him by yourelf seem to hurt a little less.
⠀⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏ ⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏⠀ ͏⋆｡‧˚ʚ ୨ৎ ɞ˚‧｡⋆
please do not repost, reupload, or translate my work anywhere else on the internet. i also do not approve uploading my work on any ai site. salamuch <33
okay all jokes aside my favourite filipino food is…
SISIG.
literally the best filipino food ever icl to you. sisig is so good, i crave it all the time. i alw get my sisig with egg, #nomayo. pair this with garlic rice and a cold glass of iced tea OH IM ASCENDING
hipon sa aligue sauce (shrimp in creamy crab sauce) is also superrrr good 🤤 but for me its one of those once every month meals ykwim. idk if this counts bc its technically spanish food ?? but theyre basically staples in the ph but gambas, lengua, and salpicao are so yummaeeeee fuckk now im craving….
filo desserts are all so underrated too. like ik everyone and their mamas are going crazy over ube which makes me happy but there are sm other filo desserts that are so YUMM
my fav filo dessert hands down is taho. i say its a dessert cause its sweet but tbh its more of like a snack ?? i usually have it in the mornings when im craving smth.
brazo de mercedes and sans rival are also super good…. 12/10 would recommend.
WHERE yang jungwon is your best friend, whom you may or may not have a crush on... but he doesn't need to know that, right? ʚɞ enha's 양정원 x reader, wc: 1.2k, non-idol!au, fluff
content warnings: none besides writing mistakes whoops, but if i miss anything please lmk!
author's note: taking a break from the headcanons to post my first written (idk what to call this genre...) work, jinjja nervous... i am 100% sure there are gonna be sm writing errors in this, i tried proofreading this but my brain is tired af andi just wanted to post a draft today so... anyways !! i had sm fun writing this and i hope i captured the feeling of having a crush accurately !! spoiler alert there will be a part two for this hehe happy reading yeorobun <33
part two (this fic can be read as a stand alone tho :D)
⠀⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏ ⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏⠀ ͏⋆｡‧˚ʚ ୨ৎ ɞ˚‧｡⋆
Jungwon often tells you that you're too stubborn for your own good.
Now don't get him wrong, it's not because he dislikes it. Quite the opposite, actually. Jungwon loves the way you stand your ground, the way you never let people bend your opinions into something smaller just to make them comfortable. It's one of the first things he noticed about you back in high school, and somehow, years later, it's still one of his favourite things about you.
But sometimes, talking to you feels like arguing with a brick wall.
Like right now.
"Wonnie," the nickname slips from your mouth with the same effortless fondness it always has. The same nickname that's made his chest tighten ever since you were sixteen and sharing cheap convenience store ramen after class.
You cup his cheeks with both hands, trying to force him to look at you properly, but Jungwon only turns his face away with a groan.
"Wonnie, please look at me—"
"Y/N," he sighs, "my answer is still no."
You flop backward against the couch dramatically, throwing one arm over your eyes. "You're impossible."
"And you're insane."
The moment your hands leave his face, the warmth disappears too quickly. And, Jungwon hates that he notices it instantly. He shifts closer anyway, resting a hand against your thigh in an attempt to soften the rejection.
"I could give you a million reasons why that was a terrible idea," he says quietly, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your jeans. "You just never listen to me."
You continue sulking, lips pressed into a stubborn pout, and he tries—and fails—not to smile at how ridiculous you look.
"Oh, so now you're laughing at me?"
"A little."
"You're the worst best friend ever."
"And yet, you keep me around."
"Unfortunately."
The teasing comes naturally. Easy. Familiar. It always has with him.
That's the problem.
Because sometimes Jungwon laughs at your jokes and you forget that best friends aren't supposed to memorize the exact shape of each other's smiles. Sometimes he brushes your hair away from your face so gently it makes your heart ache for days afterward. Sometimes he looks at you a little too softly.
And sometimes you think maybe, just maybe, he feels it too.
But five years is a long time to carry feelings someone never asked for. So you bury them beneath jokes and banter, late-night phone calls, and every “Wonnie” you pretend doesn’t mean more than it should.
Tonight, though, your frustration burns hotter than caution.
"Well," you mutter, staring at the ceiling, "I've been telling you that I love you for the past five years and you've never listened to that either."
Silence follows almost instantly. The kind that crashes into the room all at once.
Jungwon’s thumb stills against your thigh.
Your own heartbeat becomes deafening the moment the words register in your brain.
Oh.
Oh no.
Your eyes widen as horror crawls up your spine.
The realization hits with full force, hot embarrassment rushing from the tips of your ears down your neck. The living room suddenly feels too quiet, too warm, and too small.
And the worst part is that Jungwon hasn't said anything. Hasn't moved. Hasn't even blinked.
Mortification crawls up your spine so violently that your body reacts before your brain can catch up. With a strangled noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper, you whip around and bury your face into the couch cushion, as if disappearing into the fabric is a perfectly reasonable solution to confessing to your best friend by accident.
"Delete that," you mumble into the cushion. "Delete that from your memory right now."
Still nothing. The silence stretches, and somehow that hurts more than if he'd just laughed at you. You reason with yourself—maybe he's shocked, maybe he's trying to figure out how to reject you without ruining the friendship—and the thought makes your grip tighten against the pillow, heat radiating off your face even the air conditioner can't fix.
Why would you say that? And more importantly, why would you say that out loud?
You squeeze your eyes shut harder, wishing desperately for the floor to open up beneath you.
"Actually," you continue, words spilling out only because he still hasn't said anything, "let's collectively pretend that never happened. Forever. People recover from worse things."
"Y/N…"
His voice is soft. Too soft. Not awkward, not disgusted. Soft enough to make your chest tighten painfully.
So you freeze.
The couch dips slightly beside you before you hear the quiet rustle of fabric, followed by the sound of Jungwon lowering himself onto the floor next to your head. Then his hand—warm, gentle—comes to rest against your shoulder, thumb brushing slowly back and forth like he isn't entirely sure this moment is real.
Because it isn't, not to him. As you buried your face in his couch cushions, Jungwon genuinely wondered if he'd imagined the last five minutes—if his hopeless, painfully lovesick brain had finally snapped after years of wanting you quietly, carefully, and from a distance he forced himself to keep. Because to Jungwon, there was no way you'd actually said that. No way you'd just looked him dead in the eyes and admitted the thing he'd spent years trying not to hope for.
'Maybe you'd meant it jokingly. Maybe his stupidly hopeful heart had twisted your words into something they were never supposed to be,' he reasons with himself.
But then he noticed it—the faint pink slowly spreading across the tips of your ears. And everything inside him stopped.
Because if there was one thing that Jungwon was sure of, it was that he knew you. Knew every version of your embarrassment. Knew the difference between your fake dramatic whining and the genuine kind that made you hide your face from the world.
This was real. You meant it.
The realization hit him hard enough to steal the air from his lungs. Years of loving you silently, years of swallowing words at the tip of his tongue whenever you smiled at him too sweetly. Years of convincing himself that being your best friend was enough, because at least he still got to stay.
And now you were telling him—no. Not telling him. You'd been telling him, all along.
The thought made his chest ache in the best and most unbearable way possible.
"I'm serious," you mumble weakly into the cushion once again. "This is genuinely my villain origin story."
A small sound escapes him—not quite a laugh, more disbelief wrapped in fondness.
"I can't look at you right now," you confess miserably.
"Why?" he asks, and the question makes your embarrassment spike and your heart stutter at the same time.
"You're unbelievable," he murmurs.
You groan into the pillow. "Please let me die with dignity."
“Y/N,” he calls out quietly once more.
You hate the way your stomach flips at the sound of your name on his lips. Especially now. And most especially like this.
His hand stills on your shoulder for just a second. When he speaks again, his voice is gentler than you've ever heard it.
"Please look at me."
Something in the way he says it makes your chest ache—not pity, not discomfort, something else. Something terrifyingly hopeful. Slowly, reluctantly, you lift your head just enough to meet his eyes.
And Jungwon looks completely undone.
"What did you just say?"
What did you just say?
⠀⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏ ⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏⠀ ͏⋆｡‧˚ʚ ୨ৎ ɞ˚‧｡⋆
please do not repost, reupload, or translate my work anywhere else on the internet. i also do not approve uploading my work on any ai site. salamuch <33
WHERE sim jaeyun is a stem student who just happens to be the fastest campus leaver ✿ enha's 심재윤 x reader, wc: 1.7k, university!au, fluff
content warnings: none, but if i miss anything please lmk!
author's note: oh save me nerdy jake, save me. n e ways... first fic, i’ve been gatekeeping this for so long so im jinjja nervous... this was admittedly a lot longer than i planned it to be, but i think that is just evidence of how much fun i had writing this. as u could probably tell this was 100% self-indulgent, i am my own target audience i fear. full disclosure: i do have the parts of the other members all written out and ready to go, and if i'm feeling brave i will be uploading them as well but idkk lmk if you guys liked this and i'll consider it <33 happy readingg
other members: jay, sunoo
⠀⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏ ⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏⠀ ͏ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
uni student!jake would be an engineering major—which comes as no surprise to anyone. beyond enjoying physics throughout high school and entering a bunch of junior lego competitions, uni student!jake really wanted a course of study that he enjoyed but challenged him at the same time.
in all honesty, i think that uni student!jake prefers the theoretical courses of his major rather than the courses where he actually has to build something, for the simple reason that jake just enjoys math and how straightforward it can be. but uni student!jake does his best to find joy in all aspects of his major.
uni student!jake has no idea what kind of engineering he wants to pursue or specialize in yet, but truthfully, he's in no rush to make that decision either. he's thinking of either industrial or aeronautics, but uni student!jake just likes the idea of building things or making them go fast.
uni student!jake has always been a diligent student and to his own surprise, has managed to stay on top of things despite everything going on in his life. sure, there will be the occasional crashout (valid), but despite that uni student!jake does really well in class.
because of his grades, uni student!jake was asked to be a teaching assistant for one of the introductory classes of his major by a former professor. uni student!jake being jake, he could not say no. so for a semester he was teaching freshmen about introduction to college calculus.
after that same semester, uni student!jake gave up the position as he realized that it wasn't really for him. however, uni student!jake does offer tutoring services for some math courses. admittedly, he wasn't really interested in being a tutor either because he really didn't want any more work, but the extra money is nice which is pretty much the only reason why he still does it.
uni student!jake is a busy boy, because on top of being an academic warrior, he is also a student-athlete! scoccer practice usually takes up most of his time outside of studying, but he genuinely is just so happy that he can continue playing a sport he loves so much.
but because of his busy schedule, trust and believe uni student!jake is the fastest campus leaver. once that final bell rings, he's up and zooming to his dorm room to squeeze in a nap before soccer practice. this doesn't mean that uni student!jake is a complete loner just because he chooses not to hang out with people after class. uni student!jake just loves a good nap and going honk mimimi after a long day.
admittedly, uni student!jake does attend a party every now and then. but he usually only ever goes if a friend invites him. uni student!jake doesn't usually initiate the invites and prefers hanging out in one of his teammate's apartments, playing fifa or binge-watching until the early morning.
i imagine uni student!jake to also be an international student. when he was deciding where to go for college, he juggled between studying back home in australia and going abroad, after careful consideration and much support from his parents, he made the decision to spread his wings a little and go pursue education in a different country.
while he loves the feeling of independence, uni student!jake gets super home sick easily. so once finals are over and a term break is announced, uni student!jake is already half-way to the airport to catch the next flight back home to brisbane.
how you and uni student!jake is actually a really funny story as it was purely an accident. you and him aren't in the same course, neither do you go to the same university! you just so happened to be friends with his roommate, sunghoon.
sunghoon offered to tour you around his campus as a form of gratitude after he stayed at your place because he had a competition near your apartment a few months back. you two were originally supposed to go cafe hopping, but as you were making your way to the fourth cafe sunghoon's phone begins to ring.
Shooting you an apologetic smile, Sunghoon picks up his phone and answers the call. As you wait for it to end, your eyes slowly drift, slightly staring off into space.
When the call finally ends, you blink awake to find him already looking at you with that same guilty expression.
“So… here’s the thing,” he begins carefully.
Ruh-roh.
Sunghoon rubs the back of his neck before explaining that he forgot that he’d promised to have lunch with his roommate today. You let out a quiet sigh, quickly assuring him that it was fine—you could always explore the rest of campus on your own.
But he shakes his head almost immediately.
“I already explained everything to him,” he says, a small grin replacing his earlier concern. “And congratulations—you’re officially invited to our roommate lunch.”
now you were on your way to some sandwich bar, just outside of the main campus to have lunch with oomf sunghoon and oomf-in-law sunghoon's roommate, whom you've come to realize, have never met before.
as you two enter, sunghoon assures you for the hundreth time that his roommate is completely fine with you joining them. scanning his eyes around the room before landing on a brown-haired boy. as you make your way to the table, sunghoon introduces you to uni student!jake who seems to stare at you for a bit before flashing you a kind smile.
you wish could say that the lunch with oomf and oomf-in-law went well, but in all honesty… you weren't quite sure. throughout the entire meal, uni student!jake barely said more than a few words at a time. he'd smile whenever you looked his way, but almost every answer he gave was frustratingly short.
"Jake, tell her about your Ethics professor," Sunghoon says at one point, nodding at him trying to get his roommate to join the conversation, "The one who brags about failing more than half of the class during the last exam."
Jake lets out a quiet laugh under his breath, finally looking up from his drink.
"Yeah, it's pretty annoying," he admits softly.
There's a pause between the two men.
"That's it?" Sunghoon asks, staring at the man across him in quiet disbelief, "You were ranting about him for, like, an hour yesterday?"
Jake only shrugs, a small smile tugging at his mouth before his gaze flickers over at you for a second, "It's not that interesting…"
You make eye contact with Sunghoon, silently asking if everything was okay with his roommate, suddenly feeling a little hyperaware of your presence.
Taking a deep breath, you try again asking about soccer after Sunghoon casually mentioned that Jake was part of the varsity team. "How long have you been playing?" You ask softly, eyes drifting to the duffle bag beside him.
Jake glances at you, caught off guard for a moment before answering, "Since I was five."
"That's so cool," you tell him with a small smile, "You must be really good then."
You miss the way his ears turn pink at the compliment but you do catch the small tug on the corner of his lips, and for a split second, you think he might finally open up.
Instead, he shakes his head slightly with an awkward laugh, "I'm alright."
And somehow, despite how nice and genuinely sweet he seems, the conversations falls into silence all over again.
no matter how many times you or sunghoon tried to pull him into the conversation, uni student!jake always seemed to retreat just as quickly with a shy smile on his lips. sunghoon eyes his uncharacteristically timid roommate, making you wonder if your presence was making him so reserved.
“Y/N, I’m telling you, Jake doesn’t hate you,” Sunghoon says, trying to reassure you after Jake had excused himself to head to soccer practice. “It’s Jake—we’re talking about someone who literally doesn’t hate anybody.”
You let out a quiet sigh, your fingers tracing absentminded patterns against the table as doubt settles in your chest. Maybe you’d said something wrong. Maybe joining them for lunch had been overstepping.
“How sure are you?” you ask, leaning back in your chair with a skeptical look. "There's a first time for everything."
Sunghoon only shrugs, leaning back into the chair.
“It’s Jake,” he repeats simply, like that alone should explain everything. “He was probably just tired. His schedule’s usually insane.”
by the time you both decide to leave, the afternoon sun hangs low across campus, warm light spilling over the sidewalks as sunghoon walks you to the bus stop. the two of you linger there for a moment, trading easy conversation before your bus finally pulls up by the curb.
“Text me when you get home,” he says casually.
You nod before stepping onto the bus with a small wave goodbye.
The moment you slide into an empty seat by the window, you pull out your phone and send Sunghoon a quick message, thanking him for showing you around his campus. After hesitating for a second, you add another line asking him to apologize to Jake for crashing their lunch.
Sunghoon’s reply comes almost immediately.
Hoon: you’re always welcome here
Hoon: and for the 8934549th time you did NOT overstep, you were invited 😭
Hoon: but i’ll tell jake you said sorry anyway…
You can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips as the bus rumbles forward.
A few minutes pass before your phone buzzes again. Curious, you glance down at the new notification.
Hoon: just talked to jake and lmao he does NOT hate you trust me
You chuckle softly under your breath, already typing out a response asking how he could possibly be so sure when maybe Jake had just been trying to be polite—
Ding!
Another message appears before you can hit send.
Hoon: he’s asking if you're single lol
⠀⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏ ⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏⠀⠀ ͏⠀ ͏ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
please do not repost, reupload, or translate my work anywhere else on the internet. i also do not approve uploading my work on any ai site. salamuch <33
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