𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐋², jack champion

069, 𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

069, 𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞
irl + social media
(song for this chapter is
'k.' — cigarettes after sex)

THIRD PERSON +
may 29, 2025

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind for Juniper. Between her rekindled romance with Jack and her nearly completed album, life felt like a delicate balance of joy and chaos. But she wouldn't have it any other way.

Jack had been a constant source of support. In the weeks since their "first" date, they had fallen into a rhythm of sorts, carving out time for each other despite her packed schedule. From intimate dinners at hole-in-the-wall spots in Brooklyn to lazy mornings in her apartment, they were rediscovering the ease and magic of being together.

Juniper sat cross-legged on the floor of her apartment, papers spread around her. Lyric sheets, mood boards, and a stack of polaroids from her last concept shoot were scattered across the hardwood. Jack Antonoff and Amy had sent her notes on the tracklist earlier that day, but deciding which songs made the cut was proving to be more challenging than she anticipated.

Jack emerged from the kitchen, two mugs of tea in hand. He placed one beside her before sitting on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "How's it going?"

Juniper groaned dramatically. "I think my brain's melting. There's just so much pressure. Like, Short n' Sweet was fun and playful, but this? This is so different. What if people hate it?"

Jack tilted his head, giving her one of those reassuring smiles that made her heart skip a beat. "June, people love you. You could put out an album of you humming random notes, and they'd still call it genius."

She rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're biased."

"Maybe," he admitted, shrugging. "But I'm also right. Look, I know it's scary, putting something so personal out there, but isn't that what makes it special? It's you. It's raw and real. That's what people connect with."

Juniper stared at him for a moment, his words sinking in. "You haven't even heard the whole thing," she teased, though her voice was softer now.

"I don't need to," Jack replied simply. "I know anything you create is going to be incredible."

Her cheeks warmed at his confidence in her, and she ducked her head to hide the blush. "Thanks, Jack. I mean it."

"Anytime."

Just as she was about to reply, her phone buzzed beside her. She glanced at the screen and laughed. "It's Mason. He's demanding to know when I'm free for dinner. Apparently, he's tired of us 'playing house' and not including him."

Jack chuckled, leaning back against the couch. "He's not wrong. We've been kind of...wrapped up in our own little bubble."

"Can you blame us?" Juniper shot back with a playful smirk.

"Not at all."

The next evening, Juniper, Jack, and Mason met at a cozy Italian restaurant in the West Village. Mason had insisted on picking the spot, claiming he knew the best places in the city. The three of them slid into a corner booth, the warm glow of string lights casting a golden hue over their table.

"So," Mason began, pouring himself a glass of wine from the bottle they'd ordered. "How's domestic life treating you two lovebirds?"

Juniper shot him a look, shaking her head. "We're not domestic—"