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heesmiles · 1 month ago

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OFF THE ICE s.jy

synopsis ⤑ You were having fun. That’s all. You were young, in college, readying yourself for true adulthood. You didn’t know adulthood would come so quick, in the form of a baby you didn’t plan for. With a man who was more in love with Hockey than anything else. This wasn’t supposed to happen, and it definitely wasn’t supposed to happen with him.

pairings ⤑ hockey player!Jake x pregnant!reader word count ⤑ 18k

warnings ⤑ pregnancy trope, smut, friends with benefits, angst , depictions of hockey injuries , probably more

crossing the line series.

read heeseung's story here.

Two pink lines.

They stare back at you, unwavering. Bold. Permanent.

Your breath catches in your throat. A dull roaring fills your ears, like the moment before a crash, when you see the impact coming but there’s nothing you can do to stop it. You blink once, twice, waiting for the second line to disappear, for reality to snap back into place. It doesn’t. It stays. Pregnant. A hollow, sinking feeling settles in your stomach. No. No, no, no. This can’t be real. Your fingers tighten around the plastic stick, your knuckles aching from the grip. You were careful. You were always careful. Birth control, condoms, every precaution. You did everything right. So how the hell did this happen?

You shake your head, your breathing ragged. Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe the test is faulty. They mess up sometimes, right? You should take another one. Five more. Ten. You should drive to the store right now and buy every test on the shelf, because this? This can’t be happening. Your legs feel unsteady beneath you as you sink onto the closed toilet lid, one hand gripping the edge of the sink to ground yourself.

Jake. His name crashes through your thoughts, and a fresh wave of nausea rises up in your throat. Oh my god. There’s only one person it could be. Jake. Your friend. Your friend with benefits. You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms against them. Your mind flickers through the memories—late nights tangled in sheets, whispered jokes between kisses, the unspoken agreement that this wasn’t supposed to mean anything. It was fun. Easy. No strings attached. Except now, there are strings. Big, life-altering, impossible-to-ignore strings.

Your stomach lurches. You press a hand to it instinctively, but it’s still just you. Just your body, your life—except it’s not just yours anymore, is it? A shuddering breath leaves you, and suddenly, you feel so, so small. What are you supposed to do? You’re in your second year of college. You have plans, dreams, a future that doesn’t include cribs and lullabies and tiny fingers clutching at yours. You can’t be a mother. Not now. Maybe not ever. And Jake?

Jake has hockey. The game is his whole world—the early-morning practices, the late-night workouts, the way his eyes light up when he steps onto the ice. He has a career to chase, a future that doesn’t include this.

This will ruin everything. Tears burn at the edges of your vision, but you blink them away. You can’t cry. Not yet. Not until you’re sure, not until you go to the doctor and they tell you this is all some cruel mistake. Because if it’s not… You swallow hard, gripping the test so tightly it feels like it might snap in half. You can’t tell him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. If you don’t say it out loud, if you don’t give it weight, maybe it won’t be real. Maybe you can find a way to make this all go away. But deep down, beneath the panic, beneath the sheer, suffocating terror— You already know. This is real. And there’s no undoing it.

Your breath shudders as you stare at the test, the past clawing its way back to you. You’re racking your brain trying to find when the two of you went wrong, when you stopped being careful. You know exactly how. The memory slams into you, sharp and unforgiving—that night.

Two months ago.

The house was packed. Bodies pressed together, the air thick with heat and sweat and the sharp bite of liquor. Music pounded through the speakers, rattling the walls, the bass thrumming through your chest. The whole hockey team was celebrating their win, and Jake was at the center of it all, grinning like he owned the night. Heeseung had won it all, again. Except he was too busy pulling his girlfriend into a random room to really celebrate much.

You weren’t even supposed to be here—you had a paper due, an exam creeping up—but when Jake texted “Where are you? We won. Get your ass over here,” you rolled your eyes, threw on something half-decent, and showed up anyway. And now you were here. Back pressed against a bathroom door, your fingers tangled in Jake’s hoodie, his mouth hot against yours. A breathless laugh escaped you between kisses, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in your veins. “I just came to say congrats.”

Jake grinned against your lips. “This is how you say congrats?” You smirked. “I was gonna buy you a beer, but—”

His hands slid down your sides, rough and familiar, pulling you flush against him. “This is better.” And god, it was. You had always liked this about Jake—how easy it was, how uncomplicated. No messy feelings, no awkward expectations. Just heat, just want, just the press of his body against yours as he backed you up against the bathroom sink. Your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging it up, your mouths moving together in that frantic, greedy way they always did when neither of you could be bothered to make it back to one of your apartments.

“Quickie?” you breathed against his lips, teasing. Jake groaned, already fumbling with your jeans. “Fuck, yeah.” It was fast. Dizzying. His hands were everywhere, pushing, pulling, unzipping. Your back hit the counter, your fingers in his hair, his mouth tracing fire along your throat. Your skin was hot, your pulse erratic, and nothing else mattered—not the party raging outside the door, not the alcohol humming through your system, not the fact that you weren’t exactly thinking.

It wasn’t until he was pressed against you, skin to skin, that something in the back of your mind lurched. You blinked up at him, breathless. “Wait—do you have a—”

Jake cursed under his breath. “Shit. No. I didn’t—” He moved like he was about to pull back, but god, you wanted him. The ache was unbearable, your body screaming at you to just— “It’s fine,” you whispered. You’re on the pill. It’s just one time. Jake hesitated, his hands gripping your waist like he was giving himself a second to think, but then your mouth was on his again, and whatever sliver of self-restraint he had vanished.

With one delicious roll of his hips against yours he was a goner. “Holy- f-fuck.” Jake hissed, his mouth agape and eyes heavy lidded as he looked down at where the two of you were perfectly intertwined. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“How’s that feeling, champion?” You purred in his ear, your hands playing in his hair as he continued his assault on your pussy.

“Such a pretty pussy..” Jake groaned. His grip on your thighs was almost bruising but you didn't care, you welcomed the pain. Your head leaned back, hitting the mirror as moans fell from your lips like a mantra. Jake’s lips found the column of your neck sucking and biting at the skin. “You like that, baby?”

“Uh-huh” You nodded your head finding it hard to find the ability to speak when Jake was doing unspeakable things to you. Jake’s thrusts were starting to become frantic, his moans higher and more frequent as it became apparent he was closer and closer to the edge. The music outside the door thumped, sounds of muffled voices passing by the door fell on deaf ears. You were too wrapped up in the way Jake was making you feel, coupled with the buzz of alcohol flowing through your veins. It was almost euphoric when your orgasm hit. Your legs shaking in Jake’s grip.

“God-” Jake breathed. Your orgasm served as a catalyst for his own. His hips slamming against yours with finality. It was reckless. It was careless. It was just once. Except once was enough.

Present day.

Your stomach lurches. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the memory away, willing yourself back into the safety of denial. But it’s useless. The test is still in your hands. The two pink lines are still staring back at you. And no matter how much you wish you could undo it— You can’t.

Your hands are still trembling. Your fingers ache from how hard you’re clutching the test, but you can’t let go. If you set it down, if you let it slip from your grasp, that means you’re accepting it. That means this is real.A choked sound slips past your lips before you can stop it. Your vision blurs. Then it happens—you break.

A sob rips through your chest, raw and unrestrained. You fold in on yourself, pressing a hand over your mouth to smother the sounds, but it doesn’t stop the tears from coming. They fall in hot, messy streaks, slipping down your cheeks, soaking into your shirt. Your whole body shakes with it, shoulders curled forward, knees pulled up as if making yourself smaller might make this moment disappear. But nothing disappears. Nothing changes. You’re still here. Still alone in this room. Still pregnant.

The word echoes inside your skull, over and over, until it drowns out everything else. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. The panic tightens around your ribs like a vice, and suddenly, you can’t breathe. You gasp, swallowing down air, trying to steady yourself, but it’s like you’re stuck underwater. Like you’re drowning. You don’t know how long you sit there—minutes? Hours? Time blurs, slipping through your fingers like sand. All you know is that you can’t do this.

You can’t be pregnant. You can’t be a mom. You can’t tell Jake. A fresh wave of nausea churns in your stomach at the thought of him. Of his reaction. Of what this will do to him. To you. Jake, with his whole future mapped out in skates and ice and championships. Jake, who has never even hinted at wanting something serious with you—because this wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Because it never has. And now, you’re carrying something that means everything. You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your hands against them. If you don’t see the test, if you don’t look at it, maybe—maybe—No.

You inhale sharply, forcing your mind through the fog of panic. There’s only one thing you can do right now. Only one thing that makes sense. Before you tell Jake—before you even let yourself fully believe this—you need to be sure. A pregnancy test is just plastic and dye. It could be wrong. It could be wrong. A doctor. You need a doctor.

The thought latches onto you like a lifeline. If you go to the doctor and they tell you this is a mistake—if they tell you that somehow, someway, those pink lines don’t mean what you think they mean—then you can pretend this moment never happened. You can wipe it from existence. You have to know. Your phone is on your nightstand, facedown, dark. You force yourself to move, to function. Your limbs feel heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and fear and the sheer impossibility of what’s happening, but somehow, you grab it. Your fingers are still shaking when you pull up the campus clinic’s number.

You hesitate. Your thumb hovers over the call button, the moment stretching out in front of you. Because if you make this appointment—if you hear a doctor say the words out loud— Then it’s real. And once it’s real, you can never go back. A single tear drips onto the phone screen, smudging the numbers. You close your eyes. And you press call.

The next day feels like a fever dream. You go through the motions, pretending your world hasn’t tilted off its axis. But every breath, every step, every blink reminds you that something is different. That there’s something inside you—growing, forming, changing everything. You haven’t said a word to anyone.

Yuna had texted this morning to let you know she was crashing at her friend’s place again. You almost told her. You almost begged her to come home, to sit with you, to make you feel like you weren’t completely alone in this—but you couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not until the doctor confirms what you already know deep in your bones. So, you’ve spent the entire day in silence. Sitting with this information like a stone in your gut, waiting for the inevitable unraveling.

You didn’t sleep last night. Every time you closed your eyes, the thoughts crept in—images of Jake, of your future, of what this means for the rest of your life. Of every possibility, every terrible outcome. You’ve always thought of pregnancy as some far-off, abstract concept—something that happened to other people, to people who were ready, to people who wanted it. But not you. Never you.

And now, in just a few hours, you’ll be lying on an exam table, hearing a doctor tell you how far along you are. How long ago your life changed without you even knowing. The thought makes your stomach twist, nausea curling in your throat. You’re so lost in your thoughts that when your phone rings, the sudden sound makes you jump. It’s Jake. Your heart stops. His name flashes on the screen, bold and unmistakable, and for a second, you consider letting it ring. But that’s suspicious. You never ignore Jake’s calls. That would only make him ask questions.

So, you force yourself to breathe, force yourself to steady your voice, and answer. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he echoes, his voice easy, warm. There’s the faint sound of voices and clattering sticks in the background, and you picture him in the locker room, probably shoving his gear into his bag while talking to you. The image is so painfully normal that it makes your chest ache. “What are you up to tonight?” he asks, casual, unaware of the chaos inside you. “Practice should be done around eight. You wanna come over?”

Your grip tightens around the phone. It’s a simple question. A question you’ve answered a hundred times before with some variation of yeah, sure or your place or mine? But tonight, everything is different, and Jake has no idea. You swallow hard, throat dry. “I—I can’t.”

He pauses. “Why not?” Because in less than two hours, I’ll be staring at an ultrasound screen, listening to a doctor tell me how many weeks pregnant I am. Because I don’t know how to look you in the eye, knowing that inside me—inside us—something is changing, something we never planned for, never wanted. “I'm sick,” you say instead. It’s a rushed excuse, flimsy and weak. “I think I caught something.”

Jake hums, like he doesn’t quite buy it but isn’t ready to push. “You okay?” No. Not even close.

“Yeah,” you lie. “Just tired. I think I just need to sleep it off.” Another pause. You know Jake well enough to know he’s debating whether or not to call you out. But finally, he just sighs. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything.”

His voice is so normal. So Jake. And for a moment, you almost break. You almost say, Actually, there is something I need. I need you to know. I need you to tell me what the hell we’re supposed to do now. I need you to promise that I’m not in this alone. But the words don’t come. Instead, you rush out, “I gotta go,” before he can say anything else. You don’t wait for his response. You hang up, your hand shaking as you set your phone facedown beside you.

The room is too quiet again. Your heart is pounding, adrenaline making your whole body feel light and untethered. You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep pretending you’re fine when everything inside you is breaking apart. And yet, that’s exactly what you do. You wipe at your face, stand up, and grab your coat. The appointment is waiting. And whether you’re ready or not— You’re about to find out exactly how much time you have left before you have to tell Jake the truth.

The air outside is sharp, biting against your skin as you step out of your dorm. It’s early evening, but the sky is already dark, winter pressing its cold fingers into everything it touches. Streetlights flicker to life, their glow hazy against the fog of your breath as you exhale, pulling your coat tighter around yourself. The clinic isn’t far. Just a short walk across campus. Still, every step feels heavier than the last.

Your stomach churns with nerves, your hands stuffed deep in your pockets to hide their trembling. The closer you get, the more the reality of what you’re about to do sinks in. There’s no turning back after this. Once the doctor confirms it—once they tell you exactly how far along you are—you’ll have no choice but to face this head-on. No more pretending. No more hoping the test was wrong. You wish Yuna were here. You wish someone was here.

But instead, you walk into the clinic alone, head ducked, shoulders curled in like you can make yourself disappear. The receptionist barely looks up as you check in, only nodding before motioning toward the chairs in the waiting area. You sit. The room smells like antiseptic and old magazines, too-bright lights buzzing overhead. Your legs bounce restlessly, fingers twisting in your lap. The other people waiting don’t even spare you a glance, but you still feel exposed, like someone could look at you and just know. Your name is called.

Your body moves on autopilot, following the nurse down the hall, into a room. She asks questions. You answer without really hearing yourself, your voice robotic, like you’re reciting lines for a role you never wanted. Then the real part begins. You lie back on the table, cold gel spread across your stomach. The machine hums to life, and your heart pounds. You don’t know if you want to look. You don’t know if you can. But then the doctor says, “There it is.” And you do. You look.

The screen is grainy, shifting black and white, impossible to make sense of at first. Then she moves the wand, adjusting the angle, and— Your breath catches. A tiny flicker. Your whole body freezes. “That’s the heartbeat,” the doctor says softly. “Would you like to hear it?”

Your throat is too tight to answer. You don’t know what you expected, but not this. Not something so small, so fragile, so real. You nod. And then—sound. A rapid, steady rhythm, impossibly fast but undeniably there. Your vision blurs, and it takes you a second to realize you’re crying.

Because this isn’t just a concept anymore. This isn’t just two pink lines or a mistake or a problem you don’t know how to solve. This is real. And whether you’re ready or not, this is happening. The doctor speaks again, gentle but firm. “You’re about seven weeks along.”

Seven weeks. You squeeze your eyes shut. Because now there’s a heartbeat. Now there’s a timeline. Now there’s no way out of this moment, no way to pretend it hasn’t already changed you. You leave the clinic with a small printout in your hands, the black-and-white ultrasound photo pressed between your fingers. You don’t even know why you took it. Maybe because part of you knows that after tonight, everything is going to change. And Jake still has no idea.

Back in the dorm you're still alone, Yuna not having come back yet. You were grateful for that as you just needed the time alone to process. Your phone buzzes. You flinch at the sudden vibration, your fingers tightening around the ultrasound printout still resting in your lap. It takes a second for you to move, to blink, to tear your gaze away from the tiny, grainy image on the paper. Another buzz. Your stomach twists.

Slowly, like you already know what you’ll see, you reach for your phone and tilt the screen toward you.

Jake: You feeling any better?

You stare at the message, your pulse hammering in your throat. A third buzz.

Jake: Practice just ended. Thinking about you.

You suck in a sharp breath, a lump forming in your throat so quickly it nearly chokes you. Thinking about you. He doesn’t even realize what those words do to you right now, how they cut straight through your ribs, cracking something open inside you. You can picture him perfectly—his damp hair, his flushed cheeks, the easy way he leans against his locker while texting you, probably half-distracted, expecting you to reply with something simple. Something normal. But nothing is normal. Not anymore. The screen glares up at you, demanding an answer, but your fingers won’t move.

What could you even say? Actually, I’m in my dorm having just left the doctor, staring at an ultrasound of the baby I never meant to have with you. But don’t worry, I’ll get back to you when I figure out how the hell to tell you. Another buzz. This time, it’s a call and you panic. Your heart slams against your ribs, and before you can stop yourself, you flip the phone over, screen-down, silencing it. The call cuts off. A few seconds later, another text comes through.

Jake: You good?

Your breathing is uneven. Your hands are shaking. You can’t do this. Not right now. You toss your phone away on the bed, like that will somehow make it all go away. Like that will somehow delay the inevitable. But you know it won’t you have to tell him soon, or it will eat you alive.

For the next few hours you sit in silence, still not having left the dorm. The room is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock above your desk. You’re curled up beneath your blankets, exhaustion pressing down on you like a weight. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep after getting back from the clinic, but your body had other plans. It wasn’t restful, though. Even in sleep, your mind wouldn’t stop spinning, replaying the sound of that tiny heartbeat over and over and over again.

Suddenly a soft click of the door was heard. You stir, blinking blearily as the light flicks on. “Hey, are you awake?” Yuna’s voice is gentle, cautious. You push yourself up, rubbing at your eyes as you watch her drop her bag by the door. She looks guilty. “I’m sorry for being gone so long,” she says, brushing a hand through her dark hair. “Our study session ran late, and we figured, why not just turn it into a sleepover? I should’ve texted you more. I feel bad.”

You shake your head, forcing a small, tired smile. “It’s fine. You don’t have to check in with me every second.” Yuna eyes you for a beat, like she’s trying to gauge if you really mean it. Then she sighs, kicking off her shoes before flopping onto the bed beside you. “I missed anything exciting?” Yes. No. everything.

You swallow, shaking your head again. “Not really.” Yuna shifts, turning onto her side to face you. Then, her brows furrow. Her eyes scan your face, tracing the dark circles beneath your eyes, the tension in your jaw, the way you keep fidgeting with the edge of your blanket. “Okay, what’s wrong?” she asks, blunt as ever.

Your heart stutters. “What? Nothing’s wrong.”

Yuna doesn’t buy it for a second. She gives you a look, her sharp, knowing gaze cutting right through your weak attempt at indifference. “Don’t lie to me.” You open your mouth—ready to deny, to deflect, to do anything but tell the truth—but something inside you breaks. The weight of it all, the sheer impossibility of holding it in any longer, crushes you. You don’t say a word. You just reach under your pillow, where the crumpled ultrasound printout is still hidden, and pull it out with trembling fingers.

Then, without looking at her, you hold it out. Yuna blinks, confused for a second—until she takes the paper from your hand and sees. Her entire body goes still. Silence. She stares down at the black-and-white image, her lips parting slightly. Her throat works like she wants to say something, but no words come out. Seconds stretch, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, she looks at you. Her voice is quiet, but sharp with shock. “Is this…?” You nod, your chest tight. Yuna inhales sharply. “Holy shit.” She sits up straighter, like the weight of the moment is finally hitting her. She looks at the ultrasound again, like if she stares long enough, it’ll make sense. Then, eyes wide—voice barely above a whisper—she asks, “…It’s Jake’s? Right?” You let out a dry, humorless laugh, wiping at your face. “Of course, it is.”

She looks up at you, eyes still wide with shock. “He’s the only one I’ve been with in a year,” you add quietly, voice almost getting lost in the space between you. Yuna swallows, nodding slowly, like she’s just now processing how real this is. Like she’s flipping through all the memories she has of you and Jake—of the nights you’d leave your dorm with a smirk and come back in one of his hoodies, of the way you never quite called him your boyfriend, of the way he was always just there. Her gaze sharpens. “How did he take it?”

Your stomach twists. You hesitate just a second too long. Yuna’s face drops. “Oh my god.” She leans forward. “You didn’t tell him?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling deeply before shaking your head. Yuna groans, throwing her head back against the headboard. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Yuna—”

“No.” She sits up straight again, looking at you with something between exasperation and concern. “You have to tell him.”

“I know,” you say, voice tight. “I just—”

“No,” she interrupts. “Not later, not eventually—you need to tell him now.” You shake your head quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself. Your whole body feels cold, like the weight of this conversation is seeping into your bones. “You don’t get it,” you say, your voice almost breaking. “Jake loves hockey. More than anything. More than school, more than his own goddamn life sometimes.” You sniffle, shaking your head again. “If I tell him this, he’ll—” You stop, choking on the words.

He’ll what? Walk away? Shut down? Look at you like you’ve just ruined his entire world? You don’t even know. That’s the problem. Yuna softens. She reaches out, placing a warm hand over yours. “Jake is a good guy,” she says gently. “He would never do that to you.” You stare down at your lap, at your fingers twisting in your hoodie sleeves. She says it like it's a fact. Like there’s no question, no possibility of anything else. But she doesn’t know what you know.

She doesn’t know how much Jake lives for the game, how hockey is the thing that keeps his blood pumping, how he lights up when he talks about it in a way he never has about anything—or anyone—else. She doesn’t know that you’re terrified. Because if you tell Jake, if you say the words out loud— it’s real and it’s scary.

The tears come fast. Faster than you expect. One second, you’re staring at your lap, chest too tight to breathe. The next, your vision is blurring, and your shoulders shake, and a broken sound rips from your throat before you can stop it. Yuna reacts instantly. “Hey—hey, no, don’t cry,” she says, shifting closer. Her arms wrap around you before you even realize what’s happening, pulling you into the warmth of her embrace. “I got you. It’s okay.” but it’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay. You bury your face into her shoulder, gripping the fabric of her sweatshirt like it’s the only thing tethering you to the earth. She doesn’t let go, just rubs circles into your back as you fall apart.

“I—I don’t know what to do,” you admit, voice muffled. “I’m so scared, Yuna.” She sighs, resting her chin atop your head. “I know.” A fresh wave of tears spills over. You wish you didn’t feel like this. Wish you could be stronger, steadier, more in control. But right now, you’re none of those things. Right now, you’re just a girl who made a mistake and is staring down the consequences. Yuna squeezes you a little tighter. “Listen, whatever happens, you won’t be alone in this, okay? You have me. And when you tell Jake, you’ll have him too. And even if—even if he’s an idiot about it at first, I’ll kick his ass into shape.” That actually makes you let out a weak, teary laugh.

Yuna gasps, dramatic as always. “Did you just laugh? Oh my god, it’s a miracle.” You sniffle. “Shut up.” She pulls back just enough to grin at you, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m serious, though. If worst comes to worst, you and I will just get married and raise the baby together. Two badass moms against the world.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, real this time. “You’d hate being married to me.”

“Yeah, but I’d do it out of love. I’d be the hot, rich, wine-drunk mom. You’d be the stressed one who has to actually parent.” You roll your eyes, but the weight in your chest feels just a little bit lighter. Yuna smiles. “See? You’re gonna be okay.” and you think, maybe she’s right, maybe you will be okay.

The next day feels like a blur. Again. Like you’re going through the motions of life with no real end goal. You know you have to get up, do something. Tell Jake that he’s going to be a fucking father because the longer you keep this a secret the more its eating you up inside out.

You spend most of your day in the dorm, curled up on the couch with the TV playing some random show you’re not even paying attention to. The volume is low, just background noise to fill the silence, but it doesn’t stop your mind from racing. Jake has been calling all day. Text after text, call after call—his name keeps flashing on your screen, but you can’t bring yourself to answer. You know you should. You know avoiding him won’t make this easier. But every time you reach for your phone, your stomach twists, and your fingers freeze, and the weight of what you have to tell him slams into you all over again. So you do nothing.

You let the calls go to voicemail. You leave the texts unread. And now, as the sun sets and the room is cast in a dim, golden glow, you’re still here—still stuck, still waiting, still pretending for just a little longer that none of this is happening. But then there's a knock on your door. And you're scared shitless because you think you know who it is. For a second, you don’t move, barely even breathe. Then another knock—firmer this time.

Slowly, legs unsteady beneath you, you rise from the couch. Your hands feel cold as you grip the doorknob, pulse hammering in your ears as you turn it and pull the door open. And there he is. Jake. Standing in the dimly lit hallway, his hair still damp from a shower, his brows drawn together in confusion and concern. His eyes—those warm, familiar eyes—scan over you, taking in your messy hair, the exhaustion written all over your face, the way you’re not meeting his gaze.

He shifts his weight, tilting his head. “…What’s going on with you?” You grip the edge of the door tighter. Your throat closes. Jake exhales, his expression softening as he reaches up, brushing his fingers over the side of your face like he’s trying to pull you back to him, trying to figure out what’s wrong. “You’ve been ignoring me all day.”

His voice is quieter now, tinged with something almost like worry. You swallow hard and your chest tightens, because this is it. There's no more running because Jake is right here in front of you. Jake doesn’t wait for permission. The second you hesitate, the second you shift like you might try to close the door on him, he pushes inside.

The door clicks shut behind him, sealing you both in. He stands there, shoulders tense, his eyes scanning over you like he’s trying to read your mind. His brows are furrowed, frustration flickering behind his gaze. “What the hell is going on with you?” he demands.

Your stomach knots. “Jake—”

“No, seriously,” he cuts in, voice sharp. “Why the hell have you been ignoring me all day? You haven’t answered a single one of my texts, didn’t pick up any of my calls. I had to come here just to get you to look at me.” You take a step back, wrapping your arms around yourself. The room feels too small, the air too thick. “I told you. I’m sick.”

Jake scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “That’s bullshit.” Your breath catches. He shakes his head, eyes narrowing as he watches you. “You don’t just disappear like that. You don’t just cut me off without a reason.” He exhales sharply, like he’s trying to keep his temper in check. “Did I… do something?” His voice is quieter now, more cautious.

“Because if I did, just—tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.” His jaw clenches. “I just—fuck, I don’t know—I miss you.” Your heart stutters. You stare at him, the weight of his words pressing into your ribs, making it even harder to breathe. “I’ve wanted to run here to you all week, tell you about my game, watch movies with you. Anything, but you're shutting me out.” This is Jake. You’re jake. And suddenly all of it feels so much worse.

Your voice is small when you finally speak. “You didn’t do anything.” Jake takes a step closer, searching your face. “Then what is it?” You inhale shakily. Your hands tremble at your sides. Your throat burns. It’s time. There’s no easy way to do this. No way to soften it.

So you just say it. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence. It crashes over the room like a tidal wave. Jake doesn’t move, for a moment it looks like he doesn’t even breathe. Completely still. His face goes blank, his lips parting slightly like the words haven’t fully registered. His fingers twitch at his sides, his whole body stiff with shock. You stare at him, heart pounding, waiting—waiting for something. Some kind of reaction. Some kind of response. But he doesn’t say a word. Your stomach twists. He just keeps standing there, frozen, staring at you like you’ve just rewritten his entire reality. And maybe you had.

You bite your lip, blinking back the burn in your eyes. When you finally speak again, your voice is quieter. Sharper. “This is your only chance to take the out.” Jake’s brows pull together slightly, but he still says nothing. You swallow the lump in your throat. “If you don’t want this, if you don’t want to be responsible for a baby, you can walk away. Right now.” Your voice shakes. “No one would blame you. I won’t blame you.” Jake blinks. Still silent. Still motionless. Your heart slams against your ribs. You hate this. Hate this. Hate that you don’t know what’s going through his head. Hate that you feel this vulnerable, this exposed, this small.

You force yourself to look him in the eyes. “I know hockey is your life..” You trail. “ I know that’s what you’re thinking about right now. You forget that before..this, we were friends. good friends. I know what hockey means to you and I would never in a million years ask for you to choose. So I'm giving you a choice. be a dad or walk away. Neither of those involve not playing hockey. but i’m telling you right now. if you choose this, if you’re all in you better be all in because this is your only time to tap out. don’t get my hopes up then crush them when it gets too hard because i’ll never forgive you for that.”

Jake just stands there. Still silent. Still unreadable.

“Why are you not saying anything?” You whispered brokenly, the silence almost too much to bear. “Please say something.”

Finally, Jake’s mouth opens but then it shuts again like he’s trying to find the ability to speak. Like a failing fish out of water. It’s nerve wracking, your body feels like it's on fire. “Please Jake.” You beg, at your wits end.

“You’re giving me an out..” He trailed off, and your heart sank at the words. Was he really going to walk away and leave you to raise a baby alone? The thought terrified you to no end. “You’re giving me an out and a very big part of me is screaming at me to take it. it would be the smart thing, the easy thing and maybe the best thing for my career. My brain is ticking, yelling over and over ‘take the out, take the out. but there is a small part of me that outways the rest, a part that won’t let me be like the man who didn’t have the guts to raise me. that refuses to leave this kid, my kid, without a father. so, yes I'm quiet and yes I'm not saying anything. because my mind is going to war trying to think of a way to be a dad and a damn good hockey player at the sametime.”

“Okay.” You said simply. And for a while you both sat in silence, neither of you finding the right words to say. Until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Did you figure it out?” You asked him. Jake’s eyes closed, a deep breath falling from his lips.

“No.” He said simply, “but I will.” Your head shot up in surprise, your eyes wide and glassy with tears threatening to spill.

“You’re in?” You ask with a strained voice.

“I’m in.”

Jake and yourself had a lot more that you had to talk about, that was for sure. But the confirmation of him staying and raising this baby with you had definitely lifted a large weight off your shoulders and although you were less terrified it didn’t mean you were prepared. You were having a baby for god's sake. That scared you to death. And you weren't sure if you were entirely ready for it.

Over the next few weeks Jake does things that prove he's all in. The first time Jake shows up, you don’t expect it. You step out of the campus doors, arms wrapped around yourself, still shaken from your last appointment. The air is crisp, biting at your skin as you take a deep breath, trying to center yourself. And then you hear it. The sound of footsteps. The rustling of fabric. And then - “Hey.” Your head snaps up. Jake is there, leaning against the side of his car, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. His hair is messy like he’s been running his hands through it all day, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder like he just came from practice.

Your stomach flips. “What are you doing here?” you ask. Jake shrugs, pushing off the car. “Thought you might need a ride.”

You hesitate, tightening your grip on the sleeve of your hoodie. “I can take the bus,” you say, voice quiet. Jake raises a brow. “You could. Or you could let me drive you home.” You don’t have the energy to argue. Not today. So you nod. Jake doesn’t say much on the ride back. He keeps his eyes on the road, hands gripping the wheel, but every so often, his gaze flickers toward you — like he’s checking to make sure you’re still there.

It keeps happening.

A few days later, a jersey appears on the back of your desk chair. One of Jake’s, the fabric worn in places, his last name sprawled across the back in bold letters. You pick it up, running your fingers over the lettering. There’s a note tucked into the sleeve. "Just in case you need something warm." Your breath catches.

The next time you see him, you don’t bring it up. But when you wear the jersey around your dorm, you pretend not to notice the way Yuna raises a knowing brow. Jake keeps showing up. Not in the obvious ways, not in ways that force anything. But in the background. In the small things. A decaf coffee left on your desk when you step out of class. A text asking if you’ve eaten. A moment at the rink where he catches your eyes before disappearing into the locker room. He doesn’t say anything about the pregnancy. Not yet. But he’s there. And that terrifies you just as much as it comforts you.

Jake isn’t there. Not really. His body is on the ice, his skates cutting across the surface, his hands gripping his stick, but his mind—his mind is still sitting in that sterile doctor’s office, staring at a screen where a tiny, flickering heartbeat had filled the room. "There’s your baby." He can still hear the doctor’s voice, still feel the way his stomach had plummeted as the reality of it settled in, pressing down on him like a weight he couldn’t shake. "Your baby." Jake clenches his jaw, gripping his stick tighter.

“Jake!” The sharp bark of his name barely registers before — CRACK. The puck flies past him, a blur of black and white as it slams into the boards. “Jesus Christ, Sim!” Jake blinks, snapping back into focus just in time to see his coach skating toward him, fuming. His teammates shift uncomfortably, casting wary glances between them as Coach Bennet stops in front of Jake, eyes blazing.

“You wanna tell me where the hell your head is at today?” Coach snaps. “Because it sure as hell isn’t here.” Jake swallows hard. His grip on his stick tightens, knuckles going white. “I—” Coach doesn’t let him finish.

“You’ve been slow all practice. Missing passes, losing pucks—you’re a vital part of this team, Sim. You don’t get to check out like this.” His voice drops slightly, but it only makes the words hit harder. “Get it together. Now.” Jake nods stiffly. He doesn’t say anything. Because what the hell is he supposed to say? That he can’t focus because his whole life changed forever? That there’s a baby now—a real, growing baby—and he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with that? That every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is that ultrasound?

Coach exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Take five.” Jake doesn’t argue. He skates off the ice, his heart pounding. He needs to get his head straight. Now. Because if he doesn’t — He might just lose everything.

Jake barely makes it through the rest of practice. He’s off. Way off. His passes are sloppy. His shots lack power. He’s slow to react, too caught up in his head to play the way he’s supposed to. By the time Coach blows the final whistle, Jake is drenched in sweat and running on empty. His entire body feels tense, like his muscles are wound so tight they might snap. He just needs to get out of here.

He needs to shower, grab his stuff, and go check on you. But before he can make it out of the locker room — “Yo, Sim!” Jake glances up, spotting Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon making their way toward him. Jay slings an arm over his shoulders, still dripping wet from his shower. “We’re heading to a party tonight. You coming?”

Jake doesn’t even hesitate. “No.”

Jay pulls back slightly, raising a brow. “No?”

“Dude,” Sunghoon snorts. “It’s a Friday night, and you��re passing up a party? Who are you?” Jake exhales, shaking his head as he shoves his gear into his bag. “I just—” He hesitates. “I have somewhere to be.”

Heeseung leans against the lockers, crossing his arms. “You’ve been weird as hell all day, man.” Jay nods. “Yeah, what’s going on with you?”

Jake grips the strap of his duffel so tight it hurts. He could make something up. Should make something up. But instead — it just spills out, before Jake could stop it. “She’s pregnant.” The words hang heavy in the air. None of them move. None of them speak. Jay blinks. “Wait. What?” and Jake laughs.

Or at least, he tries to. It comes out more like a broken, choked sound. His throat feels tight, his chest squeezed so hard it physically hurts. “She’s pregnant,” he says again, voice cracking. And then, before he can even stop it — He’s crying. Right there, in the middle of the locker room, surrounded by his teammates, Jake fucking breaks.

His head falls into his hands, his shoulders shaking as he lets it out. Because he’s scared. Because he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. Because this isn’t part of the plan. And for the first time in his entire life, he doesn’t know how to fix it. “Fuck, man,” Heeseung breathes. Jay is the first to move, stepping closer and clamping a firm hand on Jake’s back. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Jake shakes his head. “No, it’s not.” His voice is raw, shaky. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do.”

Sunghoon exhales through his nose. “Okay, first? Breathe.” Jake tries. And fails. He sucks in a breath, but it feels like nothing is getting in. His heart is racing, his mind spinning, and everything is just — “Jake.” Jay squeezes his shoulder. “You’re not alone in this.” Jake lifts his head, eyes red, glassy.

“We got you, man,” Heeseung says quietly. “No matter what.” Sunghoon nods. “Yeah. And, I mean—” He gestures around. “This isn’t exactly news you should be dealing with alone.”

Jay nudges him lightly. “Have you told her how you feel?” Jake wipes at his face, sniffing. “I don’t even know how I feel.” His voice wobbles. “I just—I need to see her.” Jay exchanges a glance with Heeseung before looking back at him. “Then go”

Jake doesn’t wait. He grabs his bag, slings it over his shoulder, and leaves.

The knock at your door startles you. You freeze mid-reach for your phone, heart suddenly hammering in your chest. You already know who it is. For a second, you consider ignoring it. Pretending you’re asleep. Pretending you’re busy. You’re not sure you want any company. But you can’t do that forever.

So you force yourself up, smoothing down the front of your sweater as you cross the room. You take a steadying breath, gripping the doorknob with fingers that tremble just slightly, and pull it open. Jake stands there. The first thing you notice is the hoodie—dark gray, pulled up over his head, casting a shadow over his face. His duffel bag is slung over one shoulder, his hockey gear probably stuffed inside. His posture is a little tense, like he had to talk himself into coming here. But the real thing that catches your attention is what he’s holding.

A takeout bag. Your throat tightens. “I, uh…” Jake shifts on his feet, glancing down at the bag like he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with it. “I remembered you said you were craving this, so I thought—” He hesitates, clears his throat, then lifts the bag slightly. “I figured I’d bring you some.” Something cracks inside you. Because it’s such a small thing—just food, just a meal—but the fact that he remembered that he went out of his way after practice when he was probably exhausted, when he could have avoided all of this — You swallow hard and step aside, voice softer than you mean for it to be. “Come in.”

Jake hesitates for just a second before stepping inside. The door clicks shut behind him. He doesn’t look around, doesn’t hesitate, just walks straight over to your desk and sets the bag down before collapsing onto your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like this is normal. Like nothing between you has changed. He stretches out slightly, fingers drumming against his thigh before he looks at you.

“So,” he says, voice easy, like he’s not breaking some invisible barrier by being here. “How was your day?” You blink. It’s such a simple question, but it feels heavier than it should. Because what does he want to hear? That you spent most of it overthinking? That you barely slept last night, kept up by the thought of everything crashing down around you? That every time you close your eyes, you see your own future in a way you never imagined it before? Instead, you inhale deeply and say, “It was fine.” Jake gives you a look. You fidget slightly under his gaze before sighing and elaborating.

“I had class this morning,” you start, perching on the edge of your chair. “Yuna and I grabbed coffee after, but the barista completely messed up my order, so I ended up drinking the strongest espresso of my life. I swear I could hear colors after that.” Jake snorts, shaking his head. “Then I came back to my room, tried to take a nap, but the guys across the hall decided to have a full-on garage band session at, like, peak volume.” You groan, rubbing your temples. “It sounded like someone was murdering an electric guitar.”

Jake tilts his head. “Were they at least good?”

You deadpan. “No.” He chuckles, the sound low and familiar, something that almost makes you feel lighter. So you keep talking. You tell him about your classes, about how Yuna dragged you into watching some new drama that she’s absolutely obsessed with. About how you got sucked into a rabbit hole of cat videos on your phone, and one was so funny that you laughed until you cried. And the whole time, Jake listens. Not just in the polite, half-distracted way people sometimes do. No—he really listens. He nods at the right moments. Asks questions. Throws in sarcastic comments that make you roll your eyes but also bite back a smile. And it’s so… easy.

For a few minutes, it’s like things are the way they used to be. Like there’s no giant, life-changing revelation hanging over your heads. Like it’s just you and him. Like it’s always been. But that’s the thing about pretending. Eventually, reality always catches up.

You shouldn’t be staring at Jake. But you are. It’s not your fault, really. He’s sitting on your bed like he belongs there, hoodie still pulled up, fingers absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on your blanket. The room is dim, just your bedside lamp casting a soft glow, making everything feel warmer. Closer. And maybe it’s the lighting, or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s here, but — he looks good. Really, good. You could blame it on the hormones but you know that’s not entirely true, you were attracted to Jake enough to fuck him on the regular.

Which is so not what you should be thinking about right now. Especially when everything between you is so much bigger than it used to be. Still, you can’t help but glance at him as you chew your food, watching the way his jaw tenses like he’s caught up in his own head. So, to fill the silence, you ask, “What about you? What did you do today?”

Jake blinks, like you’ve just pulled him out of a thought he wasn’t ready to leave. Then he sighs. “Practice.” You raise a brow. “That’s it?” He huffs out a soft laugh. “That’s pretty much all I do.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back against your pillows. “Yeah, yeah. Hockey is life.” Jake smirks. “Glad you’re finally getting it.” You nudge him lightly with your foot, and for the first time in days, something feels normal. But then you see the way his smirk fades slightly, the way his fingers keep fidgeting.

“How was practice?” you ask. Jake hesitates. And you can tell — whatever it is, he doesn’t want to say it. But after a moment, he sighs. “It sucked.” That makes you pause. Jake never complains about practice. Even when he’s exhausted, even when he’s been chewed out by his coach, even when he’s sore and bruised—he always shrugs it off. It’s just part of the game. So the fact that he’s saying it now means something.

“Why?” you ask, setting your food down. Jake drags a hand through his hair, exhaling. “I don’t know. I couldn’t focus. Coach was on my ass all day. Kept telling me to get my head in the game.” He shakes his head, voice quieter now. “I just… couldn’t.” Your chest tightens. Because you know. You know why he couldn’t focus. And it hits you, suddenly — Jake is scared. Maybe not in the same way you are. Maybe not in the overwhelming, spiraling, how-will-I-ever-handle-this way that’s been sitting heavy in your chest since you saw that test.

But still—Jake is scared. And for the first time since this whole thing started, you realize, You’re not the only one whose world is changing. Jake won’t look at you. His eyes stay fixed on some invisible point in the room, his jaw tense, fingers still picking at the frayed thread on your blanket. He looks like he wants to say something, like there’s too much sitting on his tongue, but he doesn’t know where to start. And for some reason, that makes your chest ache.

“Jake…” you start carefully. His head tilts slightly, but he still doesn’t meet your gaze. You swallow. “Is it because of—”

“You,” Jake says suddenly. The word is soft. Quiet. But it still punches the air right out of your lungs. Your breath catches. “Me?” Jake finally lifts his eyes to yours, and god, they’re unreadable. Dark, searching—like he’s trying to figure out what the hell to do with everything inside him.

“Yeah,” he mutters. His voice is rough, like he’s only just now admitting it to himself. “It’s you. It’s… this.” He gestures vaguely, and you know he means all of it. The pregnancy. The secret you held onto for weeks. The way everything between you is shifting, unsteady, the ground cracking beneath both of you in real time. And it’s weird. Because part of you has spent so long thinking about how this will change your life—how everything is unraveling for you—that it didn’t even occur to you that Jake is unraveling too.

That he’s scared. Just like you. The thought makes something twist deep in your stomach. You exhale, shifting slightly so you’re facing him completely. “I didn’t mean to mess everything up for you.” Jake’s brows knit together immediately. “What?” You glance down at your hands. “I know hockey is your whole life, Jake. I know you’ve got… plans, and dreams, and this wasn’t supposed to happen. And now it’s just—” You trail off, biting the inside of your cheek before whispering, “I don’t want you to hate me for it.”

Jake stiffens. The room is silent for a long, painful moment. Then, suddenly, he shifts—pushing himself off the bed and moving toward you so fast that your breath stumbles. He doesn’t touch you, but he’s closer now. Close enough that you can see the way his knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping his hoodie sleeves.

“Don’t say that,” he says, voice low. “Don’t ever say that.” You blink up at him, startled by the sudden intensity in his eyes. Jake shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “I could never hate you.” Your throat tightens. “But I—”

“You didn’t do this alone.” His voice is firm, certain. “You didn’t just wake up one day and decide to flip my life upside down. I was there, too.” You let out a weak, humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m the one carrying it.” Jake flinches slightly at the word carrying, but he doesn’t look away.

“I know,” he says. His voice is softer now. “And I know it’s different for you. I know I’ll never fully get what that feels like.” He swallows hard. “But this isn’t just on you, okay? I’m scared too.” Your heart stutters. Because this is Jake. The Jake who’s always been so steady. So sure of himself. Who skates like nothing in the world could shake him. And now he’s sitting in front of you, looking like he’s the one who can’t find his footing.

You don’t know what to say. So you just nod. Jake exhales, dragging a hand through his hair before falling back onto your bed. He stares at the ceiling for a long second, letting the silence settle between you again. Then, with a small, almost bitter laugh, he says, “God, no wonder Coach was on my ass all day.”

That startles a laugh out of you. It’s small, barely there, but Jake notices. His lips twitch. “Oh, so now it’s funny?”

You sniffle, shaking your head. “I mean… kinda.” Jake groans, throwing an arm over his face. “Glad you’re enjoying my suffering.” You roll your eyes, nudging his foot lightly with yours. “It’s not suffering, it’s called consequences.” Jake drops his arm, lifting his head to give you a flat look. “I don’t like that word.”

You smirk. “Well, get used to it.” For a moment, you just sit there, looking at each other. And something settles. The air is still heavy, the weight of everything still pressing down on both of you. But… It doesn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

The rest of the night kept going just like that, sat next together watching reruns, laughing about everything. You’re trying to focus on the show playing in front of you. Really, you are. But it’s hard—and not just because Jake keeps making little comments about the plot, half-serious, half to mess with you. It’s because you can’t stop thinking about it. Something that has been plaguing you these past few weeks. The feeling has been creeping up on you for weeks now, an itch under your skin that only seems to get worse. At first, you thought it was just stress, or maybe a weird symptom of everything your body was going through. But now, sitting here next to Jake, your legs tucked up under you, his thigh warm where it brushes against yours —

You know exactly what it is. And god, it’s humiliating. Because there’s no good way to say it. Hey, Jake, I know our lives are changing forever, but by the way, I’m really, really horny. You press your lips together, eyes flickering toward him. He looks relaxed, his arm slung lazily over the back of your bed, fingers occasionally tapping against the blanket. His hoodie has shifted slightly, revealing a strip of skin above the waistband of his sweats, and why are you even looking at that?

You force yourself to look back at the screen, gripping your blanket like it might physically restrain you from saying something stupid. But then Jake shifts, turning toward you slightly. “You good?” You freeze. “What?”

Jake gives you a look. “You keep making weird faces.” Shit. You clear your throat, shaking your head quickly. “I’m fine.” Jake raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You sure?”

No. “Yeah.” but he doesn’t look away, god can he just look away. “Because if something’s wrong—”

“I said I’m fine,” you blurt, a little too quickly, a little too defensive. Jake blinks. You clamp your mouth shut. Then, slowly, his expression shifts. Like he’s figuring something out. Like he’s putting a puzzle together, piece by piece. And suddenly, you regret everything. Because this is Jake.

Jake, who knows your body better than anyone. Jake, who has spent the last year reading your little shifts and signals, knowing exactly when you wanted him—when you needed him—even before you ever said a word. And now he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what’s on your mind. Your stomach flips. His lips part slightly, like he’s about to say something — But you panic, snatching the remote and turning the volume up way too high.

Jake flinches at the sudden blare of noise. “Jesus—”

“Sorry!” You fumble with the remote, lowering it again. “My hand slipped.” Jake stares at you. Then—slowly—he smirks. Your stomach plummets. “Your hand slipped?” he repeats, amusement dripping from his tone. You nod quickly. “Yep.” Jake tilts his head, still watching you. Your heart is pounding. And you realize, with absolute horror, that there is no way you’re getting out of this.

Jake is still watching you. And you can tell by the glint in his eyes, the way his smirk is growing, that he knows something’s up. So, before he can start teasing you, you blurt out the first thing on your mind. “Are you gonna sleep with other girls?”

Jake stills. His smirk drops instantly. His whole expression shifts from amused to completely caught off guard. “What?” You don’t back down. You cross your arms, looking straight at him. “Now that I’m, you know…” You gesture vaguely toward your stomach. “Are you still gonna sleep with other people?”

Jake’s eyebrows furrow, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “No.” Just that. No. No hesitation, no confusion, just a simple, matter-of-fact no. And that does something to you. Because you weren’t even sure why you asked it. Maybe because you never really talked about exclusivity before. Maybe because things between you have felt so different lately, and you needed to know. Or maybe because part of you was scared that nothing was different for Jake that he’d still be going out, still be with other girls, while you were here, pregnant with his child.

But now, sitting here, watching the way his brows are still pulled together like he can’t believe you even asked Something inside you loosens. You exhale. “Good.” Then, before you can overthink it, before Jake can even process what’s happening You lean in and kiss him.

Jake freezes. It’s so different from the way things used to be. Before, your kisses were quick, hungry, never filled with anything but need. But this is slow. This is intentional. And it’s Jake who responds first.

He melts into you, his hand reaching up to cup your jaw, tilting your face just right as he deepens the kiss. His lips are warm, familiar, but there’s something new in the way he kisses you now, something softer, something that lingers. And god, you need him. Every built-up thought, every moment of tension from the last few weeks, crashes into you all at once. You press closer, hands fisting into his hoodie, pulling him in.

Jake makes a low sound in his throat, his grip tightening slightly, his other hand sliding down to your waist. His fingers skim the hem of your shirt, hesitate — Then he pulls away just slightly, forehead resting against yours, breathing hard. “Are you—” His voice is hoarse, strained. “Are you sure?” You nod. Jake studies you for a moment, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. But when he finds none, his lips crash into yours again. And this time Neither of you stop. Jake kisses you like he’s making up for lost time.

Like he’s been waiting for this, just as much as you have. His hands slide up your sides, slow and careful, like he’s still giving you a chance to change your mind but you don’t. You can’t. You press closer, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie, and that’s all it takes. A low curse slips from his lips as he pulls the hoodie over his head, tossing it aside. The sight of him, his flushed skin, his rapid breathing sends a shiver through you. He’s so warm, and when his hands find your hips, you let him guide you back against the pillows, your body reacting on instinct.

Everything feels different. Not in a bad way. Not in a way that makes you hesitate. Just in a way that makes you aware of the weight of his body, the way he touches you, the way he looks at you. Because for the first time, it’s not just mindless. For the first time, Jake is looking at you like he actually sees you. And god, you want him.

His lips trail down, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, your neck, your shoulder everywhere. His hands are careful, slower than usual, like he’s savoring the moment instead of rushing through it. And that’s the thing there’s no rush. Because tonight isn’t about just getting lost in each other. Tonight is something else. Something neither of you have had before. And as Jake’s lips find yours again, breathless, desperate, needing you let yourself fall.

He took his time peeling off every layer of clothing that stood in your way, his sensual kisses leaving butterfly like feelings in his wake as he moved them up and down the expanse of your neck. It was more romantic than you had ever experienced. He was taking his time with you, cherishing your body as he helped you, cradled you. There was beauty in the way the two of you were finally joined, again.

You are on top of him, your knees on either side of his hips, lifting yourself up than crashing down to the tune of your own heartbeat in your ears. Jake drank in the sight of you, his hands running up and down your body, squeezing at your breasts like a vice. They were noticeably bigger and it was apparent that Jake loved it.

Your moans and groans grew in tandem as Jake whispered dirty things into your ear. The gasps he let out everytime your hips slapped against yours served as a catalyst to your already awaiting orgasm. It hit you like a tidal wave, washing over your body in its wake. Jake followed not long after. His body is shaking along with yours. And when it was over, you sat atop him with him still nestled deep inside of you and fell asleep. Feeling more peaceful than you have in weeks.

The next morning, the first thing you register is warmth. It’s different from the usual comfort of your blankets or the lingering haze of sleep. It’s heavier, grounding, and when you blink your eyes open, it takes you a second to realize why. Jake is still next to you. He’s lying on his stomach, face half-buried in the pillow, one arm stretched lazily across your waist. His breathing is slow, deep, even, and in the soft morning light filtering through your curtains, he looks so peaceful. So different.

Jake is always moving, always carrying some kind of restless energy on the ice, at parties, even just sitting next to you. But right now, he’s still. His hair is a mess, sticking up at odd angles, his lips parted slightly as he sleeps. You can feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the subtle weight of his arm over you, and for a brief, fragile moment, you let yourself just exist here. In this sliver of morning where nothing has to be said. Where nothing has to change. But eventually, Jake stirs.

He shifts against the pillow, letting out a low hum as his lashes flutter open, still heavy with sleep. His grip on you tightens for a second before he pulls away, rubbing at his face. You watch as he blinks a few times, clearly still waking up, before his gaze finally settles on you. A small, lazy smile.

"Mornin’," he murmurs, his voice low, hoarse. You swallow, forcing yourself to look away from the mess of his hair, the sleep-drunk warmth in his eyes. "Morning." Jake shifts onto his side, his movements slower than usual, more relaxed. His eyes flicker toward the bedside table, where his phone buzzes quietly, before he turns back to you.

"The frat’s having a thing tonight," he says, voice still rough from sleep. "Not a party, just a small get-together. You should come." You hesitate. "A get-together?"

Jake nods, stretching one arm above his head before letting it drop back onto the pillow. "Yeah. Just the guys, Yunjin, Yuna, Heeseung’s girl. No crazy shit." He tilts his head slightly, studying you. “It might be good for you.” There’s something careful in the way he says it. Like he’s watching for your reaction. And the truth is, you don’t know how to feel. You haven’t really been out since everything happened. The idea of being around everyone again of feeling like things are normal when they’re so clearly not makes something twist in your chest.

Jake notices. "You don’t have to," he says, quieter now. “I just thought—" He stops, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I just thought you might wanna get out for a bit. Clear your head.” And the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker to your stomach for the briefest second before meeting yours again. You know what he means. He’s giving you an out. If you don’t want to go, he won’t push. If you say no, he won’t mention it again. But the idea lingers.

Because part of you does miss it. Misses laughing with Yuna and Yunjin, miss sitting around and watching Heeseung get bullied by the guys, miss feeling like yourself. Even if things aren’t the same anymore. You exhale slowly, biting the inside of your cheek. “…Okay.” Jake blinks, like he wasn’t expecting you to actually agree. Then slowly, a small smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah?” You nod, and something inside you eases. This could be fun and god knows you need that in your life right about now.

That night, air is crisp as you step outside, carrying the first whispers of winter on its breath. You tug your coat tighter around you, relishing in the warmth as you walk alongside Jake. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, the fabric pulled over his head, but you can still see the easy grin playing at his lips. There’s something light about tonight, something you hadn’t expected. It’s been weeks of suffocating thoughts, of holding your breath, of feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on your chest. But tonight, for the first time, that pressure isn’t there. Maybe it’s because you’re choosing this. Or maybe it’s because Jake's here with you.

Jake glances at you as you walk. “You good?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“You sure?” He nudges your arm lightly with his elbow, playful, teasing. “Because I don’t wanna show up and have you ditch me two minutes in. That’d be kinda embarrassing.” You roll your eyes but can’t fight the small laugh that escapes you. “I’m not gonna ditch you.” Jake hums, side-eyeing you like he doesn’t quite believe you. “I dunno. You’ve been real unpredictable lately.” You nudge him back, a little harder this time, and he lets out a soft chuckle.

The sidewalk stretches ahead, illuminated by the golden glow of streetlights. It’s late enough that campus is quiet, the usual bustle of students reduced to only the occasional passing group, muffled laughter carrying through the air. The night feels calm. Jake walks beside you in that familiar, effortless way—like being near you is second nature. And maybe it is. Maybe, despite everything, it always has been You glance over at him. “So, what exactly is this get-together?”

Jake shrugs. “Just a small thing. Heeseung and Jay wanted to do something before our next away game. No crazy party, just hanging out.”

“And you’re sure about that?”

“Swear on my life.” He presses a hand over his heart. “No surprise kegs, no random strangers passing out in the hall. Just us.” It sounds… nice. Like the kind of normalcy you hadn’t realized you missed until now. The thought makes you exhale softly, your steps slowing just a fraction. You hadn’t expected to feel good tonight. Hadn’t expected to look forward to anything, let alone this. Jake notices your pause and turns slightly, walking backward now so he can face you. “Hey,” he says, tilting his head, “we can still turn around, you know. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” But you do.

So you shake your head. “I wanna go.” Jake studies you for a second, like he’s searching for any hesitation. But there isn’t any. Not tonight. Eventually, he nods. “Okay,” he says. Then, his lips twitch into something softer. “Good.” And as you near the house, the sound of laughter spilling out onto the porch, the glow of string lights hanging from the windows, You realize you’re glad you came.

The warmth of the frat house greets you the moment you step inside, a stark contrast to the chill outside. The air is thick with the scent of garlic bread and pasta, something home-cooked and rich, filling the space with a kind of comfort you hadn’t expected. Laughter hums in the background, the low murmur of conversation weaving between the sound of utensils clinking against plates. It’s not the kind of party you’d grown used to at this house. No booming music rattling the walls, no overwhelming crush of bodies moving in tandem, no spilled drinks coating the floor in sticky regret. Instead, it feels warm, familiar. Like a gathering of people who actually care about each other. Jake’s friends greet him instantly, throwing easy nods and teasing jabs his way. Jay claps him on the shoulder, Heeseung tosses some offhand comment about how “Wow, Sim, you actually showed up for once?” but then their attention shifts to you.

“Hey!” Yunjin grins, pulling you into a quick hug. “We were wondering if you’d come.” You smile. “Yeah, Jake convinced me.”

“Good. You needed to get out,” Yuna says, appearing at your side with her usual knowing smirk. “You can’t just sit in the dorm watching Netflix and eating fruit snacks for the next few months.”

You narrow your eyes. “That was one time.”

Yunjin snickers. “Sure, babe.”

There’s no judgment in their words, though, just familiarity. That easy friendship that makes your chest loosen. Everyone settles into a comfortable rhythm as the night unfolds, plates passed around, laughter spilling over casual conversation, Jake leaning back into the couch beside you, his arm draped along the back of it, close but not quite touching. And then, at some point, the conversation shifts.

“So,” Yunjin says, sitting forward, her eyes flickering between you and Jake. “We have to talk about something important.” You blink. “Uh… okay?”

Yuna grins. “A baby shower.” You choke on your drink. “A what?”

“A baby shower!” Heeseung’s girlfriend nods eagerly. “Come on, you have to have one! It’ll be so cute!” You stare at them. “I mean, I—”

“It’s not really up to you,” Yunjin interrupts, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ve already decided. We’re throwing one.” Jake huffs a small laugh beside you, shaking his head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“You’re having a baby, dude. This is happening.” Jay gestures between the two of you. “You might as well have a party for it.” You glance at Jake, unsure what to say. The idea of a baby shower hadn’t even crossed your mind yet. There’s been so much to think about. doctor’s appointments, your classes, the slow, terrifying reality of your life shifting that something as normal as a baby shower hadn’t even made it onto the list. But the way everyone is looking at you excited, hopeful, like they genuinely want to do this for you makes something warm settle in your chest.

Jake’s knee bumps against yours as he shifts beside you. “What do you think?” he asks, voice low enough that it’s meant just for you. You hesitate for only a second before nodding. “I think…” You exhale, looking back at your friends. “I think it sounds exciting.” The girls cheer. Heeseung claps Jake on the back. “Guess you better start making a registry, man.” Jake groans, but there’s something soft in his expression, something light. Something you’d love to see over and over again until you die.

The conversation drifts naturally, flowing from one topic to the next like the rise and fall of a tide. The laughter still lingers in the air, the warmth of it curling around you like a blanket, but then the topic shifts. Jay leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. “Man, this schedule is gonna kill me.”

Heeseung snorts. “You say that every year.”

“Yeah, and I mean it every year.” Jay groans, letting his head fall back against the couch. “Back-to-back away games? We barely get time to breathe.” Jake lets out a low chuckle beside you. “You’re so dramatic.”

Jay lifts his head just enough to glare at him. “Shut up, Sim. You love this shit.” Jake shrugs, unbothered. “I mean, yeah. It’s hockey. What’s not to love?” And just like that, the floodgates open. The guys dive into a conversation that feels almost foreign to you, play schedules, practice drills, strategies for upcoming games. They speak in a language that’s second nature to them, that thrives in their bones, their voices animated, hands gesturing wildly as they argue over stats and game plans. And at first, it’s nothing. At first, you just sit there, listening. But then — Then it starts to settle.

Jake does love this. It’s not just a hobby, not just a college sport—it’s his life. The hours, the dedication, the grueling schedule—it doesn’t seem to weigh on him the way it does the others. He thrives in it. He needs it. And this is just college. If he’s this busy now…

The thought creeps in, slow but merciless. If this is what his schedule looks like now—morning practices, late-night workouts, weekend-long away games—what the hell is it going to look like when he goes pro? Because he will. You know it as sure as you know the sun will rise in the morning. Jake was built for this. It’s what he’s worked for, what he’s bled for. Hockey isn’t just something he loves. It’s his future. And where the hell do you fit into that?

You blink, barely registering that the conversation is still going, that the guys are still talking and laughing and teasing each other, that the warmth of the room hasn’t faded—but suddenly, it feels distant. A dull, steady ache starts in your chest, creeping up your throat, tightening around your ribs. You stare at the flickering candle on the table, at the way the wax pools and hardens, melting and reforming in an endless cycle. They keep talking. And you go quiet.

You don’t even realize how still you’ve gone until Jake nudges your knee with his own. “Hey.” His voice is softer now, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. You look up, meeting his gaze, and there’s a slight furrow between his brows, that subtle shift that tells you he notices. “You okay?” he murmurs, low enough that the others don’t hear. You should say yes. Should push down the thoughts clawing at your chest, the creeping fear that tells you this is a mistake, that you’re deluding yourself into thinking this can work, that you won’t get left behind in the wake of his future.

But your throat is tight. So you just force a smile, nodding once. Jake doesn’t buy it. His gaze lingers, sharp and searching, like he’s trying to figure you out. But before he can press, someone calls his name, dragging him back into the conversation, and you take the out for what it is. You breathe. And the doubt lingers. The room is still alive with conversation, laughter curling at the edges of words, but your mind is somewhere else. Distant. Tangled.

Jake is talking again something about next week’s game, about how they need to tighten their defense but the words barely reach you. They swirl around the room, carried by voices that belong in this world, that fit. And then there’s you. Sitting here, stomach heavy with something that feels like lead, pressing against your ribs, against your lungs. Because how does this work? How do you fit?

You glance at Jake from the corner of your eye. He’s leaning forward now, elbows resting on his knees, brows furrowed as he listens to Heeseung explain something about their last game. He’s so focused. So in his element, like this is exactly where he’s meant to be. And then there’s the baby. And you. Where do you fit in all of this? It was easy, easier when the thought of being pregnant was still something distant, something you were still getting used to. But now it’s real. You’ve seen the ultrasound. Heard the heartbeat. There’s something inside you, someone that’s growing, changing, becoming more real every single day. And Jake..

Jake is here. He’s showing up. He’s bringing you food and taking you to appointments and rubbing the back of his neck in that nervous way every time he catches himself looking at you for too long. But for how long? Because this is just college. This is before the contracts, before the NHL scouts come knocking, before his entire life shifts into something so much bigger than campus arenas and team dinners. You bite your lip, fingers curling into the fabric of your jeans. Jake loves hockey. It’s the one thing he’s never wavered on, the one thing that’s been steady, unwavering, untouchable.

And you, You’re just a detour. A pause in his story. A moment in time that he never planned for. He’s already stretched so thin. His schedule is already brutal. Morning practices, games, travel, training when would he even have time for you? For a baby? For late-night feedings and diaper changes and God, what were you thinking? This isn’t sustainable. This isn’t something that fits neatly into his world.

The realization crashes into you all at once, so heavy you almost feel sick. You need to talk to him. But then Jake laughs beside you, head thrown back, voice warm and unbothered, and when he looks at you, his smile is easy, soft. And for a second, just a second you wonder if maybe you’re wrong. Maybe he’s trying. Maybe he wants this. Maybe…

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice low, meant only for you. “You’re quiet.” You blink, jolted from your thoughts, your heart hammering against your ribs. You force a small smile. “Just tired.” Jake’s eyes linger for a second longer, like he doesn’t quite believe you. But then Jay nudges him, pulling him back into the conversation, and the moment is gone. And you, You’re still stuck wondering.

The night air is crisp when Jake pulls up in front of your dorm, the distant hum of campus life still lingering in the background, laughter from passing students, the occasional roar of a car engine down the street, the muffled bass of music from a party somewhere nearby. But inside the car, it’s just you and him.

The warmth of the heater hums softly, filling the silence that has stretched between you since you left the frat house. Jake’s hands are still wrapped loosely around the steering wheel, but he’s not in any rush to move. His eyes flick to you as you shift in your seat, your fingers curling and uncurling in your lap. “You want me to come in?” His voice is careful. Not forceful, not overbearing gentle. An offer. A quiet attempt to be there, to be with you.

You shake your head almost immediately. “No, it’s okay. I think I just wanna sleep.” The words leave your lips too quickly, too practiced, and you can tell by the way Jake’s brows furrow slightly that he catches it. That he knows you’re lying. He doesn’t call you out on it. He just exhales slowly, watching you for a long moment before nodding once. “Alright.” His fingers tap against the steering wheel, a restless little rhythm, like he wants to say more but doesn’t know how.

You push the car door open before he can change his mind and insist, before he can see through you too much. The cold air bites at your skin as you step out, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. You feel Jake’s gaze on you as you turn back toward the car, gripping the edge of the door. “Thanks for the ride.” Jake gives a small nod, his lips pressing together. “Yeah. Of course.”

You linger. For some reason, you linger. Your fingers tighten around the door, the weight in your chest heavy and pulling.Like there’s something that wants to slip out, some small confession that’s buried too deep for you to name just yet. But then Jake shifts in his seat, glancing toward the windshield, and the moment shatters. You clear your throat, forcing a small smile. “Night, Jake.”

His lips twitch slightly, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “Night.” You shut the door and walk away before the doubt in your head can make you turn back.

Inside your dorm, it’s quiet. Too quiet. The air is still, untouched by Yuna’s usual presence—her music, her laughter, her constant, grounding presence that keeps you from feeling like you’re alone with your thoughts. But tonight, you are alone. You toe off your shoes and drop your bag by the door, shrugging off your jacket and letting it slip from your fingers onto the chair nearby. The room feels colder than usual, or maybe that’s just you.

You sit on the edge of your bed, fingers threading through your hair as you stare at the floor. The doubt is back. That creeping, suffocating feeling that has latched onto you ever since the conversation about hockey at dinner. How does this work? You feel like you’re standing at the edge of something. A reality you’re not prepared for, a future that you don’t know how to step into. Jake is here now. But what about when the season gets more intense? What about when the scouts come, when contracts are on the table, when suddenly he’s got offers from teams that are miles and miles away?

What about when the NHL swallows him whole and you and this baby become nothing more than a footnote in his history? Your fingers tremble slightly as you rest them against your stomach. It’s still flat, still unchanged, but you know you know something is growing, shifting, taking root inside you. And yet, you still don’t know where you fit in Jake’s life. Maybe he’s showing up now. Maybe he’s trying. But what if this, this thing between you was never meant to last? You press your lips together, blinking rapidly against the sting behind your eyes. You’re exhausted, your body heavy with the weight of your thoughts, but sleep won’t come easy tonight.

It’s been a week. Seven days of silence. Seven days of unanswered texts, of ignored calls, of messages left on read. You knew it wouldn’t last forever, that eventually, Jake would force his way in. That he’d demand answers, refuse to let you keep pushing him away. But still, when the knock comes; sharp and insistent against your dorm door and your stomach drops.

For a second, you think about pretending you’re not home. But then his voice comes through, firm but edged with something else. Something raw. “Open the door, please.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, fingers curling against the fabric of your hoodie. There’s no running from this. No delaying the inevitable. So you inhale, force your hands to stop shaking, and pull the door open. Jake is standing there, still in his practice gear, sweat dampening the strands of hair curling against his forehead, his hockey duffel slung over one shoulder. He must’ve come straight from the rink, must’ve been thinking about this the entire time because his eyes are already burning with frustration. “What the hell is going on?” he demands.

You cross your arms over your chest, stepping back just enough for him to push past you into the dorm. He does, kicking the door shut behind him, and suddenly the room feels too small. Too full of him. He turns to you, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “You’ve been ignoring me.” You scoff, arms tightening around yourself. “Yeah, well. Maybe that’s because I needed some space.”

Jake shakes his head, running a hand down his face. “Space from what? Me? The baby? This whole situation?” He exhales, something heavy behind it. “You think I don’t notice? You think I don’t know when something’s wrong with you?” You look away, fixing your gaze on the floor. “Jake—”

“No.” His voice cuts through the room, not loud, but firm. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.” Your throat tightens. “I’m not shutting you out.”

“Then tell me what’s going on,” he says, stepping closer. “Tell me why you suddenly don’t want me around. Why are you acting like I’m already failing at something I haven’t even gotten the chance to do yet.” The words hit you like a blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You don’t mean to let it slip out, but suddenly, it’s there.The fear that’s been clawing at you, the doubt that’s been growing like a weed. “Because I don’t know if you can do it, Jake.” Silence.

His expression shifts, the frustration flickering into something else—hurt. You swallow hard, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “You might think you can handle it, but… this isn’t just a game, Jake. This isn’t a season, or a practice, or something you can walk away from if it gets too hard.” Your voice shakes, but you push forward. “This is a baby. A whole life. And you’re already stretched so thin. Your schedule is insane, your life is already moving in a direction that—” You shake your head, looking away. “What if I’m just setting myself up for disappointment?”

Jake exhales sharply, stepping closer again, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are stormy, filled with something desperate, something pleading. “I don’t know how to convince you,” he says, voice rough. “I don’t know how to make you believe me when I tell you that I want this. That I want to be here.” Your lip trembles, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “You can’t just say it, Jake. You have to prove it.” Jake flinches like the words sting, like they land somewhere deep inside him. He presses his lips together, dragging a hand through his hair. “And how am I supposed to do that if you won’t even let me try?” The words linger between you, thick and heavy, suffocating the space between breaths. You don’t have an answer.

So you just whisper, “I need space.” Jake’s shoulders rise and fall with a slow, controlled breath, like he’s forcing himself to accept it. He nods once, lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine.” But then his voice softens, just barely. “I have an away game this weekend. I’ll be gone until Monday.” His eyes search yours, like he’s looking for something, anything to tell him you’re not slipping too far away. “But I’ll be back. And when I am, we’re talking about this.”

You nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Okay.” Jake lingers for a moment, like there’s something else he wants to say. But instead, he just exhales, shoulders still tight with tension as he steps back toward the door. And then he’s gone. And the second the door clicks shut behind him, the weight in your chest pulls you under.

The dorm is cloaked in darkness, save for the faint blue light spilling from the television screen. The glow flickers across the walls, illuminating the mess of blankets you’ve curled yourself into on the couch. The volume isn’t high, but it doesn’t need to be. The sound of the game filters in clearly, the scrape of skates on ice, the sharp whistles, the distant roar of the crowd.

You’d told yourself you wouldn’t watch. That you’d let the game pass without so much as checking the score. But now you’re here, heart hammering against your ribs, watching him. Jake. The camera zooms in as he weaves through the defense, his body moving like something fluid, something effortless. His hair is damp with sweat beneath his helmet, strands sticking to his forehead as he skates into position. He’s good. He’s so good.

You can see it in the way he moves, in the way the opposing team struggles to keep up. They’re aggressive, irritated because they know they can’t outplay him, so they’ll try to beat him down instead. And that’s exactly what they do. The hits tonight have been brutal. More than usual. It’s a grueling, ruthless game, bodies slamming against the boards with resounding cracks. The referees aren’t calling much, letting things slide, letting them play too rough.

And then, Sunghoon goes down. Your breath stutters as you watch him crash against the ice, his body crumpling on impact. He tries to get up, his gloved hands pressing against the rink, but something is wrong. His leg. You can tell immediately. The way he winces, the way his teammates circle him in concern, the way the trainer rushes onto the ice. The cameras cut in close. His face is tight with pain.

It takes two people to help him off the ice. Your stomach is twisted in knots, your hands clenched into fists. You hate this. You hate watching them get hurt like this. And then, Jake. He’s too fast, moving up the rink, his stick handling the puck with precision. The opposing team is trailing behind him, trying to keep up, trying to stop him.

They can’t. So one of them doesn’t even try. The moment it happens, you feel it, the wrongness. The guy comes in too fast. The check is too high, too hard, too reckless. And Jake never sees it coming. Your breath stops. Jake’s body is airborne before he crashes into the boards with a force that shakes the glass. The sound of it is sickening,a violent collision of bone, plexiglass, ice. His head snaps back. His helmet slams against the wall with a brutal crack. And then he slumps. He doesn’t move.

Your vision blurs. The game fades into the background, the commentators talking too calm, too casual as Jake remains still. His limbs are tangled awkwardly beneath him, his hand curled slightly over his side, his helmet tilted askew. He still hasn’t moved. Oh God. Move, Jake. Your stomach is in your throat, a sharp, rising panic clawing up your chest. Your hands are shaking. Your breath is coming too fast, too shallow, and you feel like you might be sick.

Then, slowly, he stirs. Not much, just a twitch of his fingers, a subtle shift in his shoulders. But it’s enough for the trainer to rush onto the ice, teammates circling him as he tries to push himself up. The camera zooms in, his face is twisted, his brows drawn together in pain.

His hand is gripping his ribs. Your throat tightens. You can see it, he’s hurting. Even as he shakes his head at the trainer, even as he tries to play it off. He’s trying to act fine, trying to prove he can keep going, but you know him. You can see through it. Jake’s not okay. Tears burn at your eyes, and you don’t even try to fight them. You don’t care that you’ve spent the last week avoiding him, don’t care that you’ve been drowning in doubts, don’t care that you still don’t have all the answers. Because none of it matters right now. Jake is hurt. You just want to be with him, you need to be with him. You have to get to him, and fast.

You barely remember how you got there, your feet pounding the pavement in a haze, the world a blur of motion as you rushed toward the hospital. You’re too frantic to think, too scared to process anything more than the fact that Jake was hurt, hurt in a way you couldn’t ignore, couldn’t pretend didn’t matter. The lights from the hospital sign flicker above you as you stumble through the entrance, the sterile scent of antiseptic and disinfectant hitting you like a wall. Your heart is hammering, the fear sitting heavy in your chest as you make your way to the front desk, breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

"I—I’m looking for Jake Sim," you stutter, your voice shaky, too soft as you try to push past the thick knot of panic that clings to your throat. The receptionist eyes you, takes a moment to type something into her computer. “Room 214,” she says flatly, barely glancing up. “He’s being kept for observation.”

Room 214.

The number echoes in your head as you make your way down the hallway, the fluorescent lights overhead buzzing faintly. You can hear your pulse pounding in your ears, a steady thrum as you walk faster, too fast, the air around you seeming to constrict with every step. You reach the door. For a moment, you just stand there. Your hand is trembling as you push the door open, the sight of Jake in the bed almost too much to bear. His face is pale, too pale, and his eyes are closed, though he’s awake. He’s hooked up to an IV, his forehead glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.

He looks - fragile. Your breath catches in your throat as you step into the room, and it takes everything in you to swallow the rising lump of emotion that threatens to spill out. You’ve seen Jake take hits, seen him get back up from injury after injury. But this feels different. His head turns when he hears the door, his eyes opening slowly, a small smile curling on his lips when he sees you standing there.

“Hey,” he says, his voice rough but warm, like he’s trying to ease the tension in the air. His smile is weak, his usual confidence stripped away by the injury, but it’s still there. It’s still him.

“I’m so sorry, Jake,” you whisper, your throat tight. You move to his side, hovering for a second before reaching out to touch his hand, your fingers trembling against his. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, the solid reassurance you’ve been craving, yet his grip feels fragile in a way you can’t quite shake.

“I didn’t mean to freak out like I did,” you murmur, your voice cracking. “I know you love the baby, and I know you’ll be there for them. I—I know you’ll be a good dad.” He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes softening as he looks at you. There’s a faint wince on his face as he shifts his weight, but the way his lips curl into something resembling a smile makes your heart ache.

“Baby,” he says, his voice low but steady, cutting through the tension that’s been hanging between you for days. “I used to think hockey was the world, that I lived for it, breathed for it. that it was my life. That hockey was the reason I woke up in the morning. I love hockey, hockey will always be my passion and it will always be what I want to do, and who i want to be. But it’s not my life. you are. you two are my life, you and this baby and I wouldn't want it any other way.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, and your breath catches in your throat. You don’t even realize you’ve been holding your breath until the air rushes out in one long, shaky exhale. Jake’s hand reaches up, brushing a few strands of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the pain he’s in. “I’ve been an idiot,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been so focused on everything else, and I didn’t stop to think about what you needed. What we needed.”

Tears sting your eyes, a sudden rush of emotion overwhelming you. You hadn’t known how badly you needed to hear those words until they were out in the open. “Jake—” But he’s not letting you finish. He pulls you closer, gently, not forcefully, as though he’s afraid you might break. And when his lips meet yours, it’s soft, soft in a way that makes the world feel like it’s finally falling into place.

You close your eyes, the weight of everything you’ve been carrying melting away in an instant. His kiss is tentative at first, just the brush of his lips against yours, a delicate reassurance that he’s here. That he’s not going anywhere. But then, as if the words he’s spoken have unlocked something inside both of you, the kiss deepens, slow and aching, full of the longing that’s been building between you for weeks. The warmth of his lips against yours is the grounding force you needed to remind yourself that everything was going to be okay. You were going to be okay. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze full of tenderness, full of something real.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” he murmurs. “I’m staying. I’m gonna be here for you, for the baby… for us.” The words resonate deep inside you, a wave of warmth flooding your chest. You don’t know what the future holds, but in this moment, you believe him. You lean your forehead against his, closing your eyes as the world seems to slow down. The hurt, the uncertainty, all of it seems to fade into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your hearts beating in sync.

“I love you,” you whisper. And this time, it’s not a question. It’s not something you’re trying to convince yourself of. It’s just the truth. He smiles, the familiar glint of something unbreakable in his eyes. “I love you, too.” In that moment, you realize that everything’s been leading to this, a moment of vulnerability, of surrender, of knowing that no matter what comes next, you’ve got each other. And maybe that’s all you really need.

AFTER.

The baby shower is a blur of light and warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of happy conversations filling the air. The room is decorated with soft blues and yellows, little stuffed animals and pastel balloons drifting lazily overhead. It’s a cozy, intimate gathering. more like a family get-together than a grand celebration, and everything feels perfect. The air smells faintly of sweet pastries and flowers, and there’s an undeniable sense of anticipation hanging in the air, as if everyone is waiting for the moment when you and Jake’s little one will finally arrive.

Yuna is by your side, her bright smile radiating as she hands you a piece of cake, teasing you about cravings you’d been indulging in the past few months. You laugh along with her, feeling lighter than you have in ages. There’s a sense of peace in this room — a fleeting, magical calmness that you don’t want to end. Every now and then, your hand drifts to your swollen belly, gently pressing against the soft curve of it, as if the little life inside is dancing along to the rhythm of the moment.

Jake, ever the protective figure, is right by your side, his hand resting on the small of your back, his gaze never straying too far from you. His face, always so expressive, is filled with an emotion you can’t quite name, something soft, something cherishing. It’s hard to imagine a time when things were uncertain, when you wondered if he could be the father you needed, the partner you dreamed of. Because now, standing here with him, you know the truth. He’s already there. Already doing everything he can to show you he’s in this for the long haul.

“Do you need anything?” Jake asks, his voice low, full of the kind of care that only someone who loves you like he does can muster. You shake your head, the warmth from his touch making your heart swell. It’s moments like these, quiet, simple moments that remind you how far you’ve come from the uncertainty you once felt. How far you’ve both come.

“Just you,” you smile up at him, the words coming out without a second thought, and he grins at you like it’s the best compliment he could ever receive.

The guests are all mingling now, with the occasional burst of laughter ringing out as the game ideas you and Yuna came up with take full effect. Everyone is gathered around, exchanging baby gifts, newborn clothes, soft blankets, bottles, stuffed animals. Your friends and family are here, laughing and celebrating this new chapter of your life. The people you love most are sharing this with you. And even though there’s a bittersweet ache in your chest, because Sunghoon is absent, recovering from that god-awful injury, there’s a deep sense of thankfulness that wraps around you like a warm blanket.

“Hey,” Jake says, breaking you from your thoughts. His voice is so gentle, his hand finding yours in the crowd. “I need to step outside for a minute. I’ll be right back, okay?”

You nod, watching as he slips through the door. You know he’s been feeling the weight of everything lately, the pressure of balancing his career, school, and this new role as a soon-to-be father. You trust him to make it all work, to prove to you that he can handle the responsibilities. But there’s a piece of you, a vulnerable part, that still worries. The doubts always seem to rise like whispers in the back of your mind.

“Win or lose; I want to come home to you,” Jake had said to you not long ago, those words echoing in your memory like a melody. They settle in your heart like a promise, something real, something that matters. The door opens softly, and you look up to see Jake reentering the room, his eyes catching yours immediately. His smile, though small, is genuine, and you feel your breath catch in your chest. The way he looks at you, the way his hand rests against your back once more as he steps closer. it’s as if he’s still trying to wrap his mind around the miracle of everything that’s happening.

“We’re gonna be okay, right?” he asks, his voice full of tenderness, vulnerability slipping in beneath the surface. You nod slowly, your hand resting over your belly as you meet his gaze. “We already are, Jake. I already know we are.” The words settle between you both, and for a brief moment, the noise of the party fades into the background. All that matters is this. this feeling of being connected, being here, in this moment, together. The baby, the future, it’s all a little clearer now.

Jake’s hand slides to your waist, pulling you just a little closer as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. The room seems to hum around you, the laughter and chatter distant, but in this small space between the two of you, the world feels as if it’s standing still. Everything has changed. The uncertainty, the doubts, the fear. it’s all been replaced by the certainty of one truth: You’re in this together. And when you see Jake’s face soften with that same familiar warmth, you know it’s true. He’s here. He’s home. “Win or lose,” he whispers, echoing the words he had said to you weeks ago. “I’ll always come home to you.”

Your heart swells in your chest, the weight of his promise settling deep inside you. And in that moment, you know it’s all going to be okay.

reg taglist. (★) @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar , @notevenheretbh1 , @hwanghyunjinismybae, @ch4c0nnenh4, @kristynaaah

series taglist. (★) @saejinniestar , @chwesun , @vixialuvs , @slut4hee , @xylatox , @ghstzzn @skyearby @m1kkso @jakeswifez @heartheejake @hommyy-tommy @yunverie @lalalalawon

@strayy-kidz @wolfhardbby @kwiwin @immelissaaa @fancypeacepersona @starfallia @mariegalea @adoredbyjay @strxwbloody @lovingvoidgoatee @beeboobeebss @zyvlxqht @weyukinluv @flwwon

@guapgoddees @demigodmahash @cloud-lyy @heesky @ikaw-at-ikaw @shuichi-sama @shawnyle @kwhluv @iarainha @ikeuwoniee @mora134340

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shy9-29 · 17 days ago

Text

Love, Lies, and Sim Jake

심재윤 x reader - enhypen campus series

You were the quiet girl with the not-so-quiet crush on Jake Sim—campus heartbreaker, smooth talker, and everything you should’ve stayed away from. But when a bet turns your name into a game, the rules change fast. He didn’t expect to fall for you… and you didn’t expect to find out. Now it’s your move—and this time, you’re not playing nice.

wc. 16.4k

a/n. This took me so long istg but lwk wanted then to be endgame @sheseung

masterlist | req open

It wasn’t supposed to be obvious. You were careful—or at least you thought you were.

Sure, maybe you stared a little too long when Jake walked into class late, hair still damp from a rushed shower, backpack half-zipped like he couldn’t be bothered. Maybe you laughed a little too loud when he made a joke, even if it wasn’t that funny. Maybe your friends caught you scrolling through his Instagram more times than you could count—but you had never said it out loud.

But somehow… everybody knew.

It started small. You remember the moment it all began to slip. One afternoon in the library, your best friend nudged your arm and whispered, “You’re staring again,” followed by the most annoying smirk you’d ever seen. You blinked, cheeks warming, then looked away quickly as Jake leaned back in his chair, stretching in that way he had to know showed off his arms.

“It’s not like that,” you’d mumbled. Lie. Straight lie. But it was your go-to line.

Then came the whispers. The way people started looking at you just a little differently whenever Jake was around. In the dining hall, one of his teammates nudged him and said something under his breath, both of them turning your way right after. You pretended not to notice. But you felt it—the heat in your face, the tightening in your stomach. You hated it.

It was like high school all over again. Like a crush you couldn’t shake, no matter how much you tried to play it cool.

And the worst part? Jake noticed.

He started looking at you a little longer in the hallways. Smirking when you’d pass by. Saying “hey” like he hadn’t ignored you for two semesters straight. You weren’t sure if he was just being polite—or playing with you. Still, every time your name left his lips, something fluttered in your chest and you hated that you let it.

Then, one night at a party, it all came out.

You were standing by the kitchen, holding a red solo cup you barely sipped from, when you heard it—your name. Jake’s voice.

“She’s cute,” he said casually, too casually, and the room seemed to go quieter around you. “And I’m pretty sure she’s into me.”

Laughter. Someone said, “Bro, everyone knows she is.”

Another voice chimed in, “You’re the first thing on her mind when she walks into class.”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks as your stomach flipped.

They were talking about you like you were an object, like your feelings didn’t matter.

You tried to shrink back into the corner of the room, hoping no one noticed your face burning hotter by the second. But Jake didn’t miss a beat.

He didn’t stop them. Didn’t correct them. Didn’t even seem surprised.

You were supposed to be doing your sociology reading. That was the whole plan. Laptop open, textbook to the side, highlighter in hand—every prop perfectly in place. But instead of notes, your screen was filled with him.

Jake Sim’s Instagram page.

His latest post? A blurry mirror selfie at the gym, captioned something dumb like “light work.” His abs were obnoxiously sharp, his hair pushed back by a sweatband, and there was a cocky little smirk tugging at the edge of his lips like he knew exactly what he was doing. You didn’t even like gym pics—and yet there you were, zooming in like a creep and biting your lip like an idiot.

You were halfway through stalking his tagged photos when Yuna burst into your room.

“Oh my god,” she said, before even setting her bag down. “Are you stalking him again?” You jumped, slamming your laptop shut like it was something illegal. “No.” She raised a brow. “You literally jumped like I caught you watching illegal shit.”

“I was doing research,” you muttered, trying to sound convincing.

“Research on what? His jawline?” Yuna flopped onto your bed, grinning. “Girl, you need help.”

You groaned and hid your face in your hands. “I know. It’s so bad. I can’t stop.”

“Yeah, no kidding. This is like… phase five of a full-blown Jake Sim spiral.” You peeked at her through your fingers. “Do you think he knows?” Yuna blinked at you. “Girl. Everyone knows.” You groaned again, louder this time, flopping back in your chair with a dramatic sigh. “I’m so pathetic.”

“Not pathetic,” Yuna said sweetly. “Just tragically whipped.” She laughed and tossed a pillow at you, and you couldn’t help but smile through the embarrassment. Because yeah—you were absolutely whipped.

And the worst part? You hadn’t even had a real conversation with him yet.

Yuna stayed sprawled on your bed, scrolling through her phone while you reopened your laptop—this time pretending you were actually going to study, even though your fingers hovered dangerously close to Jake’s profile again.

“I swear, he’s getting hotter by the day,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to her.

“Don’t do it,” Yuna warned without even looking up. “Don’t go back to his highlights. You already watched his Europe trip twice last night.”

“I just like the aesthetic,” you defended weakly.

“You like his face.”

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm, eyes drifting back to his latest Story. Just a casual boomerang of him walking into a party, surrounded by people, drink in hand, that same effortless confidence radiating off of him. He looked like he belonged there—like the world bent to him just slightly wherever he went.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t even bend your willpower long enough to not stalk him for one damn night.

“He’s at that rooftop bar again,” you murmured. “That one near campus.”

Yuna glanced at your screen. “With the LED lights and overpriced drinks? Ugh. Of course he is. He’s always out. Does he even do homework?”

“He’s passing econ somehow.”

“Probably because he flirts with the TA.”

You snorted. “I wouldn’t even be mad.”

Yuna tossed her phone aside and sat up. “Okay, real question. What are you actually gonna do about this?”

“Do?”

“Yes, do. You’ve been drooling over him for months. Either shoot your shot or block his page and join a monastery. This in-between spiral is destroying you.”

You hesitated. The idea of talking to Jake—really talking to him—made your heart race in a way that was more panic than excitement. He was just so… untouchable. Like a poster boy for bad decisions wrapped in designer cologne and half-smiles. And you were just—you.

“I don’t even think he knows my name,” you said quietly.

Yuna gave you a look. “Oh, he knows.”

You blinked. “What?”

She just smirked, grabbing her bag. “I’m gonna leave that there. You think about it.”

And with that, she disappeared out the door, leaving your heart racing in the quiet. Because if Jake did know your name… what did that mean?

You sat frozen for a solid thirty seconds after Yuna left, her last words echoing in your head like a fire alarm.

“He knows.”

She had to be messing with you, right? Yuna loved a good dramatic exit. She lived for chaos. There was no way Jake Sim—resident heartbreaker, campus lenend, the guy with a rotation of girls longer than your Spotify playlist—actually knew who you were.

…Right?

You glanced back at your laptop. His story was still up.

Tap.

Next slide—him laughing at something, dimples on full display, head tilted back like life was just that easy for him. You paused on it, your stomach twisting in that way it always did when you saw him smile. It was gross. You hated how much you liked it.

You shut the laptop again. This was getting out of hand.

Grabbing your phone, you opened your group chat with Yuna and your other two friends.

You:

i hate you why would u say that

Yuna:

what did i do NOW

You:

“he knows” ??? why would u say that and then LEAVE like some cryptic little drama gremlin

Kazuha:

HELP what’d she do

Minju:

this is about jake isn’t it

Yuna:

ok first of all. i am a drama gremlin. second of all. i didn’t lie.

You:

YUNA.

Yuna:

look he asked about you once okay?? don’t freak out

You stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, heart thudding so loud you almost didn’t hear the buzz of another message.

You:

he what.

Yuna:

like two weeks ago. after class. he was talking to beomgyu and i walked up and he was like “hey that girl you always hang with, she’s in my stats class right?”

and i said yeah. and he nodded.

that’s it.

Minju:

girl that’s not nothing

Kazuha:

he definitely knows. also why do i feel like he’s been looking at her lately???

You:

guys stop

i’m sweating wtf

this is too much

You dropped your phone on the bed and covered your face with your hands again, half-screaming into your palms. This couldn’t be real. Jake noticed you? He remembered you existed?

You thought about the times he held your gaze a second too long in class, the lazy way he said “hey” when passing you on campus, the smirk you always thought was meant for someone else.

You didn’t want to get your hopes up. That was dangerous. That was how people got hurt. But still…

Just maybe…

This crush wasn’t as one-sided as you thought.

Jake leaned back against the bench, legs stretched out and sunglasses pushed up into his hair as the late afternoon sun filtered through the trees. The quad buzzed with weekend energy—students lounging on the grass, music playing from someone’s speaker, that kind of lazy chaos that only ever happened when no one felt like doing real work.

Jay sat beside him, twirling a straw around in his iced coffee, eyes scanning the crowd like he was picking out a movie to watch.

“You know what I was thinking?” Jay said suddenly, eyes still tracking something in the distance.

Jake raised an eyebrow. “That’s always a terrifying sentence.”

Jay smirked. “We’ve never been in a real relationship. Like ever.”

Jake scoffed. “And your point?”

“My point is,” Jay said, sitting up, “we should see who can actually do it. Lock in. Longest relationship wins.”

Jake blinked, amused. “That’s the dumbest bet you’ve ever made—and you once bet Beomgyu fifty bucks you could throw a slice of pizza on the dorm ceiling and make it stick.”

“It did stick,” Jay pointed out.

“Yeah, and the RA made you clean it off.”

Sunghoon, who’d been quietly watching some random soccer game in the distance, sighed like he was already regretting his life choices. “This is so stupid. Why would you guys want to date someone just for the sake of it?”

“Because we suck at it,” Jay shrugged. “We’re trash at commitment. Might as well make it fun.”

Jake tilted his head, thinking for a second. “So what, we just pick someone and… date them?”

“Exactly,” Jay grinned. “No hookups, no games. Real dating. See who lasts longer.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “You guys are hopeless. Seriously.”

Jake was about to respond when Sunghoon suddenly nodded toward a group of girls laughing across the lawn.

“What about her?” he said, jerking his chin in that direction.

Jake followed his gaze—and immediately shook his head, a tight, amused smile tugging at his lips. “Nah. Heeseung would kill me.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press it. Sunghoon just shrugged like it wasn’t his problem.

Jake leaned back again, lips pressing into a thin line. His thoughts drifted, uninvited, to you.

He didn’t know why, but your name floated to the surface, soft and unspoken. He pictured your face for a split second—how you always seemed to be laughing with that same small circle of friends, always just there on the edge of his world.

He said nothing.

Instead, Jake pushed himself off the bench, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans.

“Where you going?” Jay asked, glancing up.

Jake just smirked and threw a lazy wave over his shoulder.

“Nowhere. Just remembered something.”

Jake shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked off, head down just enough to avoid the glare of the sun but not enough to miss the way people turned to greet him as he passed. He gave the usual half-smile, a couple nods, but didn’t stop.

He wasn’t sure where he was going. He just didn’t feel like sitting there talking about bets and fake relationships when his mind was suddenly, annoyingly, stuck on you.

Not in a romantic way—God, no. Jake Sim didn’t catch feelings like that. Especially not for girls he barely talked to. That wasn’t how he operated. That wasn’t how this worked.

You weren’t the hottest girl on campus or the loudest or the one constantly throwing yourself into his orbit. If anything, you stayed out of it. And yet… you’d started showing up in his peripheral vision more often than he liked to admit.

Every time you passed by him in class, you did that little thing—tucking your hair behind your ear, eyes flicking to him for half a second before you looked away like you’d been caught doing something wrong. You weren’t subtle. And Jake wasn’t stupid. He’d noticed.

It was kind of… cute.

He kicked a rock off the sidewalk, watching it bounce onto the grass.

He didn’t know why you popped into his head when Sunghoon pointed out that girl. Maybe it was because you felt like the opposite of a challenge—someone easy to talk to, someone safe. Not messy. Not loud. Not tied up in anyone else’s drama.

And maybe, he thought, that wouldn’t be such a bad way to win a bet.

He stopped walking.

But then again… this was stupid. It was Jay’s idea. It wasn’t that deep. And you? You were just a thought. A maybe. An option.

Nothing more.

Jake smirked to himself and kept walking, brushing the idea off like it was dust on his sleeve.

No feelings. No strings.

Just a game.

Jake didn’t think about it again—at least, that’s what he told himself.

The next day, he walked into stats like he always did: five minutes late, iced americano in one hand, phone in the other, no apology in sight. He dropped into his seat near the back, legs stretched out under the desk, and immediately tuned out the professor’s monotone voice.

But then he saw you.

You were in your usual spot, two rows ahead and just slightly to the right. Laughing at something Kazuha whispered to you, pen twirling between your fingers, that same focused-but-not-really expression on your face.

Jake leaned back, tapping his pen against his lip.

You looked soft. Not in the cheesy romcom way—just… not sharp like most people. You weren’t trying to be noticed. You weren’t dressed to impress. You just were. And Jake had a strange moment of clarity where he realized: that might be why he’d thought of you in the first place.

Predictable. Low drama. Quiet.

Someone he could control the narrative with.

Jay’s dumb idea floated back into his head again: “Real dating. See who lasts longer.”

Jake exhaled slowly, like it would push the hesitation out of his lungs.

This wasn’t about feelings. He didn’t like you. He didn’t want to text you goodnight or hold your hand at parties or any of that romcom garbage. But maybe you were safe enough to play the part. Someone who wouldn’t make things messy. Someone who already had a soft spot for him.

He glanced at you again, just as you looked down to write something in your notebook, your brows furrowed in concentration.

He could do it. Just a few weeks, some dates, a little effort. Easy.

Jake grinned to himself, resting his chin on his hand.

He didn’t realize he was already watching you too closely.

Didn’t realize he was starting to wonder how you’d react if he actually said hi.

He just thought,

Yeah. This’ll be easy.

Jake caught himself watching you again.

It wasn’t even on purpose—at least, that’s what he told himself. You weren’t doing anything special. Just taking notes, occasionally glancing at the board, the corners of your mouth twitching every time Kazuha leaned over and whispered something dumb. But for some reason, he couldn’t look away for long.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of it.

Jay:

pick someone yet or u backing out?

Jake smirked, thumbs tapping quickly.

Jake:

working on it

Jay:

clock’s ticking

Jake rolled his eyes, tossing the phone facedown on the desk.

The truth was, he already knew. He’d made up his mind the second he walked into class and saw you laughing like you didn’t have a single clue how close you were to becoming part of something you didn’t sign up for.

But he wasn’t going to tell Jay yet. He wasn’t even sure why.

Maybe because part of him felt like once he said it out loud, it would make it real. More real than it needed to be. And despite how casual he was pretending to be, this wasn’t like hooking up with some girl from a party. This wasn’t sneaking out of someone’s dorm room at 2 a.m. before things got too serious.

This was… a role. A performance. One he’d have to keep up if he wanted to win.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes drifting toward you again.

You didn’t even know he existed—at least, not really. Sure, you might’ve looked at him a few times, maybe had that little crush people liked to tease about, but you didn’t know him. Not the version he showed at parties, not the bored one in class, not the one who smiled when he needed something.

You were still clean.

Jake wondered how long that would last.

When class ended, he stood and slung his backpack over one shoulder, lingering by the exit just long enough to watch you gather your things. You laughed at something Kazuha said again, then turned to wave goodbye to Minju.

And for half a second, your eyes met his.

He gave you a slow, easy smile—one he’d used a thousand times before—and this time, you didn’t look away so quickly.

Jake walked out of the room, his smirk growing.

You couldn’t focus the rest of the day.

Jake Sim had smiled at you.

Not just a polite, passing one. Not the half-distracted, probably-at-someone-behind-you kind. No. It was at you—slow, smooth, like he knew something you didn’t. Like he meant it.

And stupidly, pathetically, you’d smiled back.

Your stomach was still fluttering from it hours later. Even as you sat at your usual café table with Yuna, Kazuha, and Minju, pretending to listen to their convo, all you could think about was that look. That damn smile. The way his eyes had lingered just long enough to make your brain short-circuit.

Yuna caught you zoning out and kicked your foot under the table. “Earth to lover girl.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve been checked out since class,” Minju said, sipping her iced latte like she wasn’t stirring chaos.

“Let me guess,” Kazuha added, leaning forward with a smirk. “Jake smiled at you?”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but Yuna cut in with a dramatic gasp. “He did?! Wait—you smiled back?!”

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “I don’t know what it was, okay? He looked at me and—ugh, I probably imagined the whole thing.”

“You didn’t,” Minju said casually. “He looked at you. I saw it.”

You peeked through your fingers. “Was it like… a weird look? Or just, like, a normal thing?”

Kazuha raised an eyebrow. “Does Jake Sim ever look at someone normally?”

Yuna leaned her chin on her palm, suddenly serious. “Okay, but real talk. If he did look at you, like, look at you… be careful.”

Your heart sank a little. “What do you mean?”

“He’s Jake,” Minju said. “He doesn’t date. He flirts, he parties, he makes girls fall for him and then disappears.”

“I’m not falling for him,” you said too quickly.

Three sets of eyebrows went up at once.

“I’m not!” you insisted, but your voice cracked halfway through, completely ruining your case. They all exchanged knowing looks, and Kazuha patted your hand like you were already a lost cause.

You sat back in your seat, sipping your drink in silence, trying to calm the chaos in your chest. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe Jake smiled at a hundred girls a day.

But still, the way he’d looked at you…

It didn’t feel like nothing.

And somewhere not too far from that café, Jake Sim was leaning back against a wall outside the library, scrolling through his phone.

He hadn’t told Jay yet. He hadn’t told anyone.

But your name sat quietly in the back of his mind.

Like a string he’d just started tugging.

Like a move he hadn’t played yet.

And tomorrow? He planned to say hello.

The next day came quicker than you expected.

You tried not to overthink it. Tried not to pick out your outfit with him in mind. Tried not to rehearse fake scenarios in your head where Jake Sim actually acknowledged you again—maybe said hi, maybe made a joke, maybe even asked you a question. Nothing big. Just something. Anything.

But deep down, under the nervous energy and second-guessing, a small, traitorous part of you hoped.

You walked into stats early, which never happened, your notebook hugged to your chest like it might protect you from your own delusions. Kazuha and Minju were already there, chatting quietly, and you took your usual seat beside them, eyes scanning the door more times than you cared to admit.

You told yourself you weren’t checking for him. Just being aware. Just… existing in the same room.

And then he walked in.

Jake didn’t look at anyone at first. Just strolled in like always—relaxed, unbothered, his usual drink in hand. He scanned the room casually, his eyes drifting past people without really stopping.

Until they landed on you.

And this time, he didn’t look away.

A lazy, lopsided grin pulled at his lips as he met your gaze. Not rushed. Not accidental.

Intentional.

Your throat went dry.

And then—like it was the most normal thing in the world—Jake Sim nodded at you. A simple, subtle gesture.

But it felt like the whole room paused around it.

You blinked. Your lips parted, surprised, and then instinctively—you nodded back. Small. Shy. Like your heart hadn’t just punched through your ribcage.

Jake held your gaze for half a second longer, then turned and walked to his usual seat near the back like nothing had happened.

But something had happened.

Kazuha leaned in immediately. “Okay, no. That wasn’t normal. He totally looked at you.”

Minju blinked. “Did he just nod at you like you guys are friends or something?”

You couldn’t even answer. You were too busy trying to regulate your breathing, too focused on the way your hands suddenly didn’t know what to do.

Across the room, Jake sat down, stretched out, and didn’t say a word.

Jay nudged him. “You good?”

Jake didn’t look away from the front. “Yeah,” he said simply. “Just watching something.”

Jay raised a brow, confused, but let it go.

You felt it the second you walked out of class—like a magnet at your back.

You didn’t have to turn around to know he was behind you. His steps were slower than yours, but just close enough that you could hear the occasional scuff of his sneakers on the pavement. And even in the noise of campus—people laughing, bikes zipping by, someone blasting music from a speaker—you felt him.

Jake Sim. Still walking behind you. Still very much a mystery.

“Okay,” Kazuha whispered beside you, leaning in with the most obvious side-eye imaginable. “Do not freak out. But he’s right there.”

“I know,” you hissed, eyes forward.

“I mean right there, like five steps back.”

Minju, on your other side, kept her voice casual. “What do you think he wants?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly. Too quickly. “Probably just going the same way.”

“Oh, sure,” Kazuha drawled. “Because Jake Sim always just happens to walk behind girls he makes eye contact with for five seconds straight.”

Your face was hot. You hated how your brain had started keeping track of these things—every glance, every nod, every smile like it meant something.

You turned the corner with your friends, and for a second, it felt like maybe that was it. Maybe he was just walking the same direction.

“Hey.”

One word. Smooth. Easy.

Him.

You stopped. Your heart didn’t.

Jake slid into view beside you like he did this all the time, like you weren’t already halfway to spiraling.

He looked straight at you. “You’re in my stats class, right?”

You blinked. Your mouth opened slightly. “Uh… yeah.”

He smiled like he already knew the answer.

“I’ve seen you around,” he said casually, like this wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it. “What’s your name?”

You told him. Your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake nodded, like he was tucking it away. “Cool. I’m Jake.”

Like you didn’t already know.

“I know,” you said before you could stop yourself.

His grin widened slightly. Not cocky, not smug. Just… amused.

“Right,” he said, a little laugh in his voice. “Well, I’ll see you around.”

And with that, he was gone.

No flirting. No teasing. No over-the-top pickup line.

Just your name on his lips. Like he planned to use it again.

Your friends were staring at you with open mouths.

Kazuha grabbed your arm. “I am going to pass out.”

Minju fanned herself. “You talked. To Jake Sim.”

You stood there, blinking at the space where he used to be, your heart still racing.

You didn’t know what just happened.

But whatever it was, it wasn’t nothing.

Jake didn’t look back.

He didn’t need to. He knew you were still standing there, probably replaying the conversation in your head, maybe wondering if you’d said something weird or if he’d meant anything by it.

He hadn’t.

Not really.

(Kind of.)

He let his smirk fade the second he turned the corner, jaw tightening slightly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He could feel Jay’s voice in his head already, mocking him—“So? Who’d you pick?”

He wasn’t going to tell him yet. Not until it was set in motion.

And it was now. Officially.

He’d spoken to you. Broke the fourth wall. You weren’t a background presence anymore—you were the option. The one he was going to test this theory out on.

Not because you were a challenge.

Not because you were hard to get.

But because you were… interested.

He’d seen the look on your face when he asked your name. That flicker of nervous excitement, like you’d been caught in the middle of something you didn’t want to end. He knew that look. He’d seen it before. Dozens of times.

But this time? He wasn’t here to break hearts. He was here to win.

That was the bet.

Longest relationship.

Play the part. Make it believable.

Easy.

Jake walked into the dining hall like nothing had happened, spotting Jay already sitting with a tray of fries and a bored expression.

“Yo,” Jay said. “You look like you just committed a crime.”

Jake slid into the seat across from him, swiping a fry. “Maybe I did.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “You pick someone?”

Jake chewed slowly, then shrugged. “Thinking about it.”

“‘Thinking about it’ or already made up your mind?”

Jake leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “Let’s just say… I’ve got a good feeling.”

Jay laughed. “You’re gonna lose.”

Jake grinned back, calm and sure of himself. “We’ll see.”

Meanwhile, two buildings over, you were still stuck in place—your name echoing in your ears in his voice.

Jake Sim had talked to you. Asked your name. Smiled like he’d meant it.

And you?

You were already in trouble.

You just didn’t know it yet.

You floated through the rest of your day in a haze.

Jake Sim—campus heartbreaker, unintentional walking distraction, the guy you’d spent way too long overanalyzing from a distance—had not only spoken to you, but said your name. Like it belonged in his mouth. Like he planned to say it again.

You replayed it on loop.

“What’s your name?”

“I’ve seen you around.”

“Cool. I’m Jake.”

You. Were. Doomed.

Yuna nearly screamed when you told her.

“HE WHAT?” she shrieked in your dorm room, slamming her phone face down on your bed. “Okay, no. Wait. Start from the beginning. Word for word. Breath for breath. Blinking pattern. Everything.”

“I already told you everything!”

Yuna gave you a flat look. “You barely told me anything. You just stood there in a daze and whispered, ‘He talked to me’ like you were in some kind of Jake-induced coma.”

“I was in a Jake-induced coma,” you mumbled, falling back onto your pillow dramatically. “I think I still am.”

“Okay but why now?” she asked, sitting at the foot of your bed and stealing one of your chips. “Like, what changed? You guys have had stats together for weeks and he’s never even looked at you.”

You blinked at the ceiling. “Maybe he just… noticed me.”

Yuna gave you a look. “Guys like Jake don’t ‘just notice’ girls. It’s either because he’s bored, he’s interested, or he’s got some kind of motive.”

You sat up a little. “You think he has a motive? Like… what? What kind of motive?”

Yuna paused, chewing thoughtfully. “I don’t know. But Jake doesn’t make small talk unless he’s getting something out of it. Trust me. He’s hot, yeah, but there’s always something else going on in that beautiful, toxic little brain.”

You rolled your eyes, but a tiny part of you held onto her words. You didn’t want to believe that. You wanted to believe maybe he was just… curious. Maybe he thought you were cute. Maybe—by some miracle—he wasn’t playing a game.

But then again, Jake Sim was known for a lot of things.

Genuine interest wasn’t one of them.

Still, your heart refused to care.

He said your name.

He smiled.

He looked at you.

And for now, that was enough to keep you wide awake at 1:42 a.m., staring at your ceiling, whispering his name once just to hear how it sounded in the dark.

You told yourself it wasn’t for him.

You were just in the mood to look nice today—normal girl behavior. Nothing out of the ordinary. So what if you curled your hair instead of your usual half-tied bun? So what if you put on a little gloss and swapped your hoodie for a top that fit just a little better than usual? You weren’t going to see him anyway. Probably.

(But you left five minutes earlier than usual… just in case.)

You blamed Yuna for the way your nerves spiked as soon as you stepped onto campus. Her voice kept looping in your head like a warning bell.

“Guys like Jake don’t just notice girls out of nowhere.”

You’d rolled your eyes at the time, but it stuck. Still, when you caught your reflection in the hallway mirror outside class, a small smile tugged at your lips. You looked good. Confident. Not for Jake—but if he noticed? That wouldn’t be the worst thing.

He did.

You felt his gaze before you even stepped into the classroom. The weight of it. Heavy, warm, lazy like he wasn’t in a rush to look away. You didn’t dare meet his eyes—not right away—but your heart was already beating in your ears.

Kazuha whispered a teasing, “Oooh, someone came dressed to kill today,” as you sat down, and you tried to play it cool, brushing her off with a laugh. But you couldn’t ignore the glance Jake threw over his shoulder.

And the small nod. Again. Just like before. It was subtle. Barely there. But intentional. And that was enough to keep you smiling through half the lecture like an idiot.

Later that day, back at your dorm, you were practically humming as you kicked off your shoes. Yuna looked up from her laptop, narrowed her eyes, and said immediately, “Okay. Spill. What happened?”

You raised a brow, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”

“You wore lip gloss,” she deadpanned. “You only do that for confidence or crushes. And knowing you? It’s both.” You flopped onto your bed with a dreamy sigh. “He looked at me again.” Yuna groaned. “Girl. You’re spiraling.”

“I’m fine,” you said, rolling onto your stomach.

“No, you’re in the delusional phase,” she said, sitting up. “Where you think he’s texting you with his eyes and secretly planning your wedding. I’m telling you, this is how he gets girls. He makes you feel seen.”

You stayed quiet, fiddling with the edge of your pillowcase.

“I’m not saying he’s evil,” Yuna went on. “I’m saying he’s not… safe. He’s not consistent. And I just don’t want you to be another story where he gets bored and leaves.”

You didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not when your heart was still soaring.

“I get it,” you mumbled. “But it’s not that serious. It’s just a crush.”

Yuna stared at you for a long moment. “That’s exactly how it starts.”

But you didn’t answer. You just kept smiling to yourself. Because Jake Sim looked at you again. And in your head, that meant everything.

Jake saw you before you saw him.

You were sitting on the low stone wall outside the library, legs crossed at the ankles, earbuds in, flipping through your notes with a furrow between your brows like you actually cared about the quiz tomorrow. The afternoon sun hit your face just right, lighting up the gold in your lashes, and for a moment—just a second—he forgot this was supposed to be a thing.

A game. A bet. A joke between him and Jay.

He shook it off.

“Go say something,” Jay muttered from beside him, nudging Jake with his elbow.

Jake rolled his eyes. “Relax.”

“Relax? Bro, you were just talking about how easy this was gonna be,” Jay said. “You smiled at her, got her name. Step three is conversation.”

Jake didn’t answer right away. He just watched you.

You looked like the type who wrote in a journal at night. The type who doodled on worksheets, who had a playlist for every mood and a favorite pen that no one else was allowed to touch. You weren’t like the girls at parties who clung to him for the thrill of it, who liked the idea of Jake Sim more than Jake himself.

That made it interesting.

Or maybe risky. He hadn’t decided yet.

“I’m giving you three seconds,” Jay said. “Then I’m picking someone else for you.”

Jake scoffed and stepped off the path.

He took his time crossing the grass, casual but with purpose. You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in whatever study playlist was pulsing through your ears. He tapped the back of the bench once with two fingers, and you startled slightly, pulling one earbud out as your eyes lifted to meet his.

There it was again—recognition. Surprise. That soft little tilt to your lips like you were trying not to smile too much.

“Hey,” he said, leaning slightly against the edge of the wall. “You always study out here?”

You blinked. “Only when it’s nice out.” He nodded, eyes flicking to your open notebook. “What’s the subject?”

“Stats,” you said, grimacing. “Trying to pretend I understand anything from today.” He laughed a little—easy, smooth, practiced. “Yeah, same. I zoned out after the first ten minutes.”

You smiled, and this time it reached your eyes. “You sit in the back. You always zone out. He raised a brow, impressed. “So you’ve been watching me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, then faltered, clearly realizing what you’d just admitted.

Jake grinned. Gotcha.

“I mean—not watching watching,” you rushed to say. “Just, you’re… kind of hard to miss.”

He let the moment hang between you, his smirk lingering before he glanced down at your notes again. “You want help?” he asked suddenly. You blinked. “With stats?”

“Sure. I mean, I don’t guarantee results,” he said, pushing off the wall and shoving his hands in his pockets. “But we could suffer through it together.”

Your eyes searched his face for something—for a sign he was messing with you. But he didn’t look away.

“Okay,” you said quietly. “Yeah. That’d be… cool.”

Jake nodded once, then stepped back. “Tomorrow. After class?”

You nodded.

He turned without another word, heading back toward Jay with that easy gait that made people move out of his way. Jay raised his brows at him like well?

Jake just said, “Locked in.” And didn’t explain further.

Didn’t mention how your voice had sounded a little shy when you said yes. Didn’t mention the part of him that liked that.

He told himself he wasn’t catching feelings. He was just playing the role. That’s all this was. Wasn’t it?

The next day, you didn’t know whether to dread or look forward to stats.

You’d barely slept. You kept rewriting yesterday in your head—Jake walking up to you, Jake talking to you, Jake offering to help you study like it was nothing. Like that wasn’t the most surreal part of your entire week.

You were half convinced it was a fluke. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe it was some joke. Or maybe—maybe—you dreamed it and none of it actually happened.

But then he slid into the seat next to you like it was his usual spot.

Like it had always been his.

You looked up at him in surprise, your voice caught in your throat. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hey,” he said easily, tossing his phone on the desk and leaning back like he had all the time in the world. “You still down to study after this?”

You blinked. “Y-Yeah. Of course.”

He gave you a small, satisfied smile, then leaned in a little closer, voice low enough that only you could hear it. “What’s your Instagram?”

You froze.

You knew this moment was coming. Like, eventually. Hopefully. Maybe. But not this fast. Not like it was casual.

“Oh—um,” you fumbled with your phone, screen lighting up as your fingers clumsily opened the app. “It’s just—my username is kind of stupid, don’t laugh.”

Jake chuckled under his breath. “Now I have to see it.”

You turned your screen toward him, and he leaned in slightly, shoulder brushing yours for a second too long. His fingers grazed your phone as he typed it into his own, brows furrowed in concentration.

“There,” he said a moment later. “Followed.”

Your phone buzzed instantly, the notification lighting up like a siren:

simjyn started following you.

You tried to stay calm. Cool. Normal.

But Jake? Jake was already scrolling through your feed like he had nothing better to do. His eyes flicked up to yours briefly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re cute in this one.”

You almost choked.

He was pointing to a picture Minju had taken of you a couple weeks ago—your hand resting on your cheek, smiling softly at something off-camera. You’d only posted it after three days of deliberation.

“You—what?” you said, breathless.

Jake didn’t miss a beat. “I said you’re cute. You don’t agree?”

Your mouth opened, then closed again.

He laughed under his breath, clearly enjoying the way he’d short-circuited your brain. Then he leaned back in his chair like he hadn’t just sent your pulse into orbit.

“Stats,” he said casually, flipping open his notebook. “Then coffee. That’s our deal, right?”

You nodded slowly, your cheeks on fire.

He didn’t say anything else.

But your phone buzzed again under the desk.

simjyn: looking forward to it

You didn’t know whether to smile or scream. So you did both. Internally.

You didn’t even have to type it in.

The second Jake said, “What’s your Instagram?” you already knew where this was going. You played it off so well—bit your lip like you were thinking, fumbled with your phone a little like you needed to search for his account too.

But you didn’t. You’d known it for months.

@simjyn.

No numbers. No punctuation. Just clean, simple, cool. Like him.

You’d visited it more times than you’d ever admit out loud.

You knew the exact photo he’d posted on New Year’s Eve—black button-up, rings on his fingers, drink in hand, smirk sharper than his jawline. You remembered how his captions were always short, effortless. Sometimes just a song lyric, sometimes a single word. Always just enough to keep people guessing.

You’d watched his stories religiously. Even the ones that weren’t interesting—clips of skateparks, random memes, grainy concert videos. You once spent an entire night reading through the comments on one of his old posts, heart dropping every time a girl left a flirty emoji and he liked it.

And now? That username lit up your phone for real.

@simjyn followed you.

@simjyn ❤️ your story.

@simjyn sent you a DM.

You nearly forgot how to breathe.

What made it worse—or maybe better—was how normal he made it all feel. Like he hadn’t just stepped out of the fantasy you’d kept locked behind your phone screen. Like this wasn’t your real life crashing into the version of Jake you only knew from filtered posts and captions.

You tried to keep your cool, acting like this wasn’t a big deal. Like you hadn’t already scrolled back to his 2019 posts at least once. Like you didn’t already have his account bookmarked under a folder labeled “Just Vibes” (because “Jake Sim” felt too on the nose).

Still, when the class ended and you stepped outside, your fingers twitched with the urge to check your notifications again. And there it was.

@simjyn: looking forward to it.

Like it was just the beginning.

And maybe, terrifyingly, it was.

The days that followed felt like they were moving in slow motion, each one dragging longer than the last as you waited for something to happen.

The moment you’d been hoping for—the one where Jake would finally make it real, where the playful back-and-forth would shift from flirtation to something else—wasn’t happening.

Instead, he kept it casual. Too casual.

Too normal.

He kept up the conversations. Stats class? He would lean over, whispering about the notes, joking about the professor’s monotone voice. He would always walk with you afterward, or grab coffee with you. Nothing over the top. Nothing overtly romantic.

But your heart still raced every time he smiled at you. Every time he leaned a little too close. Every time his fingers brushed against yours as he handed you your coffee or his shoulder bumped yours when you were walking together. You could tell he was making it seem easy. Comfortable. Like you were just friends.

But you were barely holding it together.

Your phone buzzed late one night while you were finishing up homework. You glanced at it, heart skipping when you saw his name pop up in your notifications.

@simjyn: Got a minute?

You stared at the message for a solid minute. Your thumb hovered over the screen, hesitation creeping in. Should you play it cool? Or be honest and show just how interested you were?

You took a breath, tapped the screen, and typed back:

You: Of course, what’s up?

It took a few seconds for him to respond, and when he did, you couldn’t help but feel the subtle excitement surge in your chest.

@simjyn: You free tomorrow after class? Thought we could grab lunch or something.

You stared at the message for a long second, rereading it just to be sure it wasn’t some joke. But no—he’d actually asked. He’d really asked.

And you, being entirely unable to contain the flutter in your stomach, replied without hesitation:

You: Sounds good. What time?

It didn’t take long for him to send the reply, casual as ever:

@simjyn: 1 p.m. sharp. See you then.

You couldn’t help but smile, even as you tried to play it off to yourself. You were going to lunch.

With Jake Sim.

Just lunch.

Still, as you set your phone down, the knot in your stomach didn’t loosen. It twisted, deepened, and tightened with something you couldn’t ignore.

This was different.

You weren’t just some girl caught up in the attention of a guy.

This time, it felt real.

The morning of the lunch, you barely made it through your classes. Every few minutes, your mind would wander back to the text. You tried to focus, to pay attention to the lecture, but all you could think about was what you were going to wear. You settled on something comfortable—nothing too dressed up, but something that still made you feel good. You didn’t want to seem like you were trying too hard, but you also didn’t want to look like you didn’t care.

When the bell rang, you gathered your things and tried to move quickly, but not too quickly. There was no way you were going to be that eager.

You got to the café a little early, scanning the tables, heart racing as you waited. And then, just as you began to think he might be late, you saw him walk through the door. Jake Sim, effortlessly cool in a black leather jacket and dark jeans. His hair was slightly messy in that way that made you want to run your fingers through it.

He glanced around and spotted you almost immediately. The moment your eyes met, he gave you that signature, crooked grin. The one that made your stomach flip.

“Hey,” he greeted as he slid into the seat across from you. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

You shook your head, trying not to act too flustered. “No, not at all. I just got here.”

He gave a nonchalant nod, then leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the menu on the wall. “So, how’s the studying been going?”

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Same as usual. Lots of work, not a lot of results.”

Jake chuckled, glancing over at you. “I can relate. Stats is definitely not my strong suit. I’ve had to rely on the internet a lot.”

You laughed, genuinely this time. “I can’t believe you’re just now admitting that you’re using Google.”

“Hey, it works,” he said, raising his hands in mock defense. “Why make life harder?”

The conversation flowed easily after that, lighthearted banter about classes, the terrible food at the campus café, and random bits of gossip you both knew. Nothing serious. But somehow, it felt… different. He was relaxed around you. More relaxed than he’d ever seemed before, and it made you wonder if this was just another casual thing to him, or if something else was starting to shift.

Then, after a while, Jake’s tone softened. He tilted his head, studying you for a moment as if weighing his words. “You’ve been acting a little different lately. More… put together, you know?”

You blinked, unsure of how to respond to that. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged slightly, his eyes still focused on you, but there was a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’ve always been pretty chill, but you’re, like, shining now. What’s up with that?”

Your heart skipped, a small nervous laugh escaping your lips. “I’m just… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just getting better at balancing everything.”

Jake leaned in just slightly, his gaze narrowing with interest. “I think it’s more than that. You’re definitely pulling it off.”

You stared at him for a second, not sure what to make of the compliment. He said it so casually, like it was just an observation. But it felt different, like he was actually noticing you—really noticing you.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling exposed. “Well, thanks. That’s… sweet.”

There was a moment of silence between you, the air thick with something you couldn’t quite place. Then, to your surprise, Jake broke the tension with a grin. “You know, I’ve got a theory.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “A theory?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning back in his chair, looking like he was about to say something way too casually. “I think you might just be trying to impress me.”

The words hit you like a bolt of electricity, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if you were supposed to laugh, blush, or run away. “What? No—no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I mean, maybe a little bit, but… I don’t think I need to impress you.”

Jake smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “Oh? I’m not that impressive, huh?”

You bit your lip, not sure how to play this. “No, you are. I just—” You cut yourself off, suddenly realizing how much you’d revealed in a single sentence. But Jake didn’t press. He just chuckled, clearly having fun with this.

“You’re cute when you get nervous,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

Your cheeks burned at the comment, but you quickly composed yourself. “Well, it’s not like I’ve got anything to impress you with. I’m just… me.”

Jake leaned forward slightly, eyes locking with yours in that way that made your heart race. “That’s all I need to see.”

His words hung in the air between you like an unspoken promise, and for a moment, you thought you might actually fall for the idea that this wasn’t just a game.

But then, just as quickly, he sat back, picked up his coffee, and took a casual sip like nothing had happened.

You blinked, trying to clear the confusion in your head. Was he playing with you? Or was this real?

Before you could ask, Jake grinned, his eyes flicking to your phone. “Hey, I’ll hit you up later. I’ve got to go catch up with Jay about something.”

“Okay,” you said, your voice a little quieter than you meant it to be. “I’ll see you later, then.” He stood up, tossing a few bills onto the table before flashing that same carefree smile. “Yeah. See you around.”

As he walked away, you watched him go, your heart hammering in your chest. You couldn’t figure out if he was just being Jake, or if something else was going on. But one thing was clear. He had your attention, and it felt like you were already in this deeper than you wanted to admit.

The next few days were a blur of moments that felt too good to be true. Every time you saw Jake, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing. He was suddenly everywhere, his presence more noticeable, more… intentional.

It started small—an unexpected text, just a random meme or a “How’s your day going?” message. It wasn’t the kind of thing friends usually exchanged, not unless they were really close. But he made it feel effortless. Like it was normal. Like you were supposed to be texting each other.

When you sat together in class, Jake would lean a little closer, whispering jokes in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. He’d brush your arm with his when reaching for a pen or hand you a piece of paper as if your hands weren’t already close enough to touch. And every time his gaze met yours, there was this flicker in his eyes—a hint of something that made you feel like you were both in on some secret that no one else knew.

“You’re wearing that sweater again,” he’d say, a grin pulling at his lips. “I like it.”

You’d laugh nervously, trying to act casual, but inside, your heart would race. Every time he called you out like that—whether it was for something you wore, the way your hair fell across your face, or the way you bit your lip when you were nervous—it felt like a compliment. A tease. And you couldn’t tell if you were supposed to be flattered or embarrassed.

But then, you’d notice the little things—like how his gaze lingered on you just a moment longer than usual, how his smile reached his eyes, and how he seemed to make every conversation feel like an inside joke. You could feel it. The playful flirty energy was unmistakable.

One afternoon, you were walking across campus together when Jake leaned in and said, “You know, you look really cute when you’re thinking.”

Your mind went blank. “What?”

He laughed softly, his voice low and teasing. “When you get all quiet, just staring at nothing. You’re cute, I can’t help it.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Stop it.”

But his grin only widened. He didn’t stop. Not this time. His arm brushed yours as you walked, the skin-to-skin contact sending an electric jolt through your entire body. He kept close, just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, just close enough that it started to mess with your head.

“Really,” he continued, “You should smile more. Makes everything better.”

You couldn’t think straight. He was being so Jake about it—teasing and flirty, but there was something in the way he said it, something deeper, like he was trying to get closer to you than just casual flirtation. You tried to brush it off, but there was no denying it—he was turning up the charm.

The worst part? You liked it. You liked it too much.

But as much as you were getting drawn into the flirty energy with Jake, your friends noticed. Especially Yuna.

“Hey, you’re pulling away,” Yuna said one day as you walked with her across campus. “You’ve been hanging out with Jake a lot lately. Like… more than usual.”

You tried to brush it off, but the protective tone in her voice was obvious. “What are you talking about? We’re just hanging out.”

She raised an eyebrow, giving you a skeptical look. “I don’t know, YN. I mean, I’ve seen the way he’s been acting with you lately. Don’t let him mess with your head. He’s—”

“Stop,” you snapped, more sharply than you meant to. “I’m not stupid. I know what I’m doing.”

Yuna stopped walking, eyes wide as she stared at you. “I’m just trying to look out for you,” she said quietly. “Jake’s not exactly the type to take things seriously. You don’t want to end up hurt.”

The words hit you like a punch in the gut. But instead of feeling gratitude for her concern, you felt something else—a weird, unexpected irritation.

“I said stop,” you repeated, this time quieter but no less firm. “I don’t need you to remind me every five seconds that Jake’s a bad idea. I’m fine.”

Yuna opened her mouth to argue, but you held up your hand, cutting her off. “Really, Yuna, just drop it. I can handle myself.”

You could see the hurt flash across her face, but you didn’t care in the moment. You didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear about how Jake was playing you, how he was just a game to him, how everyone saw it coming except you. Because you didn’t want to see it. Not now. Not when things were just starting to feel… good.

You walked away from her then, your mind in a whirl. But even as you pushed away your concern for her words, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Something was off, and it wasn’t just with Jake.

And as you thought about it more, as you thought about his flirty comments, the way he leaned in too close when you were talking, the way he looked at you like he knew something you didn’t, you wondered if maybe Yuna was right after all.

But then again… why would you care?

After all, he was giving you attention. He was talking to you. It felt good. And sometimes, that was all that mattered, right?

Later that week, you found yourself standing in front of Jake’s apartment door, the cold metal of the handle pressing against your palm. You didn’t know exactly how you’d gotten here, but somewhere along the way, you’d ended up accepting his invitation to hang out. It wasn’t even that late. You’d just had a weird day with your friends, and now, you were here.

Jake’s voice came through the door before he even opened it. “Hey, come on in!”

The door swung open, and he flashed you that familiar grin that you still weren’t used to, despite how many times you’d seen it. “You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders,” he said with a teasing raise of his eyebrows.

You didn’t even have it in you to give a smart remark back. Instead, you just walked in, kicking your shoes off as you stepped inside. The apartment was just as you remembered—lived in, a bit messy, but still comfortable. Jake had that careless confidence about him, the kind that made everything feel like it was in its rightful place, even when it wasn’t.

You plopped down on the couch, dropping your bag beside you, feeling suddenly exhausted. Your shoulders slumped, and Jake’s eyes followed the movement with a curious look before he sank onto the couch beside you, casually stretching his arms out along the backrest.

“What’s going on?” he asked, genuinely concerned, but his tone was light, trying to keep things casual, like everything was fine.

You took a deep breath, then sighed heavily, letting it all spill out in a way that surprised even you. “I don’t know what’s going on with me lately,” you said, your voice a little softer than you expected. “I mean, Yuna’s being… overprotective. She thinks you’re just playing with me. And I get it. She’s looking out for me. But it’s like, I can’t get her to understand that I’m fine. That I’m not… that stupid.”

You glanced at him for a moment, but he was just listening, his focus on you in a way that made your stomach flip. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t tell you you were overreacting. He just sat there, waiting for you to keep going.

“I feel like I’m stuck between two worlds. Like one side wants to just… enjoy it, you know? You’re fun, you’re everything I thought you were. But then, there’s this other side, where I can’t shake the feeling that maybe she’s right. Maybe you’re not looking for anything serious, and I’m just… falling for it. But I can’t stop myself,” you vented, your voice starting to tremble slightly.

Jake stayed quiet for a few seconds, his gaze shifting to the floor for a brief moment before looking back at you.

“You’re allowed to feel what you feel,” he said softly, the words coming out slower than usual. “Don’t let anyone make you doubt yourself. Yuna’s just trying to protect you, but you can handle it. If you’re not ready to hear what she has to say, then you don’t have to. That’s your decision.”

There was something in his tone that was different—something almost… comforting. It wasn’t the usual cocky Jake. This was the version of him that actually cared.

You let out a shaky laugh, unsure of whether it was from nerves or relief. “I don’t know if I can handle this… It’s all just so confusing. I don’t even know if I’m reading everything wrong, or if I’m just imagining things.”

His expression softened, and he leaned in just slightly, the casual distance between you both shrinking. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now, you know? You don’t have to be perfect. Not with me.”

And before you even realized it, you were leaning toward him. You didn’t even think about it, didn’t even second-guess it. Your body just reacted, your forehead resting against his shoulder, your exhaustion seeping out of you all at once.

Jake didn’t pull away, didn’t even flinch. He just stayed still, his body tense for only a second before relaxing, letting you lean on him, letting you take the weight off for just a little while. His arm slowly reached up, resting gently on your back, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.

For a moment, the world outside disappeared. There was only the sound of your breathing and the steady, comforting presence of Jake beside you. And in that space, you didn’t feel confused or vulnerable. You just felt… safe.

But Jake? Jake felt something he wasn’t prepared for.

His chest tightened as your weight shifted against him, your head resting on his shoulder. Something in the pit of his stomach stirred in a way he wasn’t used to. The easy, flirtatious banter, the teasing touches, the smiles—it had always felt like a game, a light distraction. But now, with you leaning on him like this, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had crossed some invisible line.

Jake wasn’t the type to let his guard down easily, especially not with someone like you—someone who was already too easy to get attached to. He’d always prided himself on being able to keep things light, keep things easy. But now, as you sat there with your breath steady against his chest, he felt something shift in his chest. It was too strong, too real, too unfamiliar.

He knew he shouldn’t be feeling it. He knew he shouldn’t be letting himself get this close, this comfortable. But there was something about the way you were so trusting, so open, that made him rethink everything. Maybe he didn’t have to keep things light forever. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let things get a little deeper.

But Jake didn’t say anything. He didn’t pull away, and he didn’t push forward. He just stayed there, letting the moment stretch out, wondering what it would mean if he allowed himself to feel whatever this was.

And for the first time in a long time, Jake Sim wasn’t quite sure what was happening to him.

The next day, you were walking with Minju and Kazuha when the conversation inevitably turned to the topic you were avoiding. Your friends had been whispering behind your back, but now, they were cornering you about it, and you knew exactly what was coming.

“YN,” Minju started, her voice soft but firm. “We know you’re close with Jake now, but Yuna’s just trying to look out for you. She cares about you.”

You tried to ignore the feeling of guilt that twisted inside you, but it was impossible to shake off. You had felt bad about snapping at Yuna, but right now, you just weren’t ready to deal with it. Not when everything with Jake was still so… new, so uncertain.

“I know, okay?” you said, your voice slightly more defensive than you intended. You slowed your pace, unwilling to keep walking any longer. You could feel their concerned gazes on you. “But I don’t need to hear it right now. I don’t want to think about it.”

Kazuha frowned, tilting her head as she studied your face. “We just don’t want you to get hurt, YN,” she said, her voice gentle but tinged with worry. “We know you like him, but… Jake doesn’t exactly have the best reputation when it comes to relationships.”

You clenched your jaw. Not this again.

“I don’t need anyone else telling me what I already know.” Your words were sharp, but it was hard to keep your cool. “I’m fine. I’m not an idiot. I know the risks.” You paused, your voice quieter now. “I just… I’m not ready to have that conversation with anyone, especially Yuna. So, can we just drop it?”

Minju gave you a sympathetic look, her eyes softening. “We’re just looking out for you, YN. It’s not about not trusting you. It’s about the fact that we’ve seen this kind of thing happen before.”

You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “I get it, but… I’m not asking for advice right now. I just want to figure things out on my own. I don’t want to hear how this is going to end before it’s even really started.”

Kazuha took a step closer, her tone easing as she tried to lighten the mood. “We’re not trying to ruin the fun, YN. We just don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.”

“I know you care. But please… not now,” you said, holding up a hand to stop any further discussion. You didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to let your friends down, but you just couldn’t handle it at that moment. You needed time to figure out where you stood with Jake before you could process any of their warnings.

Minju and Kazuha exchanged a glance, and even though they both wanted to say more, they stayed quiet, sensing that you weren’t in the right headspace.

“Okay,” Minju said finally, her voice softening. “But we’re here for you when you’re ready to talk. Just don’t shut us out completely, alright?”

You nodded, feeling a strange mix of frustration and relief. “I won’t. I promise.”

The conversation ended there, but the lingering tension between you and your friends stayed in the air. You couldn’t shake the feeling that they were worried about you, and that made your chest tighten. But as much as you knew they were just trying to protect you, a part of you didn’t want to listen. You just wanted to figure things out on your own.

And for now, that meant staying focused on Jake and whatever this thing was between you two. Even if it meant pushing everything else aside, at least for a little while.

Jake wasn’t one to let his guard down easily, but over the past few days, something about you had begun to chip away at it. The easy flirtation, the playful teasing—it was all still there, but there was something more now. Something deeper. He couldn’t help but notice how the little things seemed to matter more when you were around. The way you laughed at his jokes, even the ones that barely made sense. The way you smiled at him when no one else was watching. It felt too easy, too natural, like he’d always known how to make you smile. But lately, it didn’t feel like a game. It felt… real.

And that, in itself, was dangerous.

Jake found himself thinking about you even when he didn’t want to. His friends, Jay and Sunghoon, had made jokes about him getting “soft” or “whipped,” but it was hard to shake the feeling that they were right. He did feel something for you. Something he didn’t quite know how to name.

It wasn’t that you were different than the others—no, you were different in a way that made him uncomfortable. You made him want things he hadn’t thought about in a long time. Stability. Connection. More than just a fleeting encounter.

And it was killing him.

He didn’t know why he let himself get closer to you. Maybe it was the way you always seemed to understand him, like no matter how far he pushed, you’d still stick around. Or maybe it was the way you made him laugh even when he didn’t feel like smiling.

He found himself texting you more, asking if you wanted to hang out, even if he had no real reason to. He’d steal glances at you when you weren’t paying attention, noticing the way your eyes would light up when you spoke, the way you’d tilt your head when you were thinking. He even started texting you just to hear you laugh, just to see your name pop up on his screen. It was stupid. It was complicated. And, most of all, it made his stomach twist in ways that were both unsettling and addicting.

That night, things were different. You’d come over to his apartment again, this time without any of your usual defenses. You were quieter than usual, your eyes slightly more distant. He could tell something had been weighing on your mind, and despite all his usual nonchalance, he couldn’t help but want to comfort you.

You were sitting next to him on the couch, a slight distance between the two of you, but it felt like there was something pulling him toward you. He wasn’t sure what it was—maybe it was the way you looked tonight, or how vulnerable you seemed, or maybe it was just the growing ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

“So, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, no teasing, no playfulness. Just concern.

You met his gaze, your lips forming a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Nothing. Just… stuff with my friends. You know, the usual drama.”

Jake felt his heart sink at the emptiness in your voice, like something was off. But he didn’t press. Not yet. Instead, he leaned closer to you, watching as you pulled your knees up to your chest, clearly lost in your thoughts. Without thinking, his hand found its way to your shoulder, lightly resting there.

“You can talk to me, you know,” he said, his voice quieter, gentler than before.

You hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know if you want to hear it. It’s just… complicated.”

“Hey,” he said softly, his thumb rubbing along your shoulder. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m listening.”

You met his gaze then, and for a moment, something passed between you. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Jake felt it like a jolt of electricity between you. The weight of the silence was thick now, and the space between you felt too small.

Without thinking, Jake moved closer, his hand shifting from your shoulder to the side of your face, cupping it gently. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t pull away. You just stared at him, eyes wide, like you were waiting for him to make the next move.

Jake’s pulse quickened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been here before—flirtation, attraction, all of it. But this time, something was different. This time, it wasn’t just about the thrill or the chase. It was about you.

You leaned toward him, your lips brushing against his, tentative at first, like neither of you quite knew what was happening. But then, something clicked. The kiss deepened, slow and steady, and Jake’s entire world seemed to narrow down to that single moment.

It was everything. And it was nothing like he expected.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, you stayed close, your foreheads resting together as if you both were grounding each other.

Jake’s mind was racing, but his body felt weightless, like he was floating. He didn’t know what had just happened. Didn’t know if it was just a moment or if it meant something more. But for the first time in a long while, Jake Sim didn’t want to walk away from something. He didn’t want to pull back.

And he didn’t know how to explain it, but it scared him. More than he cared to admit.

The night of the party, you were already feeling a little on edge. Jake had invited you, and for the first time, it felt different than all the other times. There was a part of you that had been hesitating, unsure of how things were really between the two of you. His texts had been more frequent, his touches lingered a little longer, but you couldn’t shake that nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

You were getting ready when your phone buzzed—Jake had just texted to remind you about the party. He seemed excited about it, but something felt off in the way you were receiving it, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff and had no idea what would happen if you jumped.

As you walked into the party later that night, the music thumping in the background, you tried to shake off your nerves. People were scattered around, some dancing, others talking in smaller groups. You spotted Jake almost immediately—his usual confident grin, that cocky air about him, but tonight there was something different. He waved when he saw you, and his eyes lit up as you approached.

But before you could make your way over to him, you overheard Jay and Sunghoon talking in the corner, standing just out of earshot from where you were. You froze, hearing your name mentioned, and despite yourself, you couldn’t resist the urge to listen.

“Yo, Jake is really into this girl, huh?” Jay’s voice was low, but you caught every word.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Sunghoon replied, a laugh in his voice. “I mean, he’s been all over her. This bet’s got him acting like a different person.”

You felt your heart drop, but you didn’t move, too stunned to turn away. You tried to act casual, but everything inside you tensed. You could feel the blood rushing to your face, your stomach sinking.

“Are you sure he’s not faking it?” Jay asked, his voice skeptical. “I mean, it’s Jake we’re talking about. He doesn’t do ‘serious’—he’s just playing it for the win. He’ll probably drop her after.”

Sunghoon didn’t sound so sure, though. “I don’t know, man. I’ve seen the way he looks at her. It’s not like the other girls he’s been with. He actually seems invested.”

You wanted to walk away then. You wanted to ignore it, pretend you didn’t hear, but their words were like a knife twisting in your gut. The truth was, you weren’t stupid. You knew something was off. You had seen Jake be playful, you had felt the connection, but hearing his friends talk about it like it was a game… it made everything you had been feeling seem so much more meaningless.

“But it’s still a bet, right?” Jay said, the doubt lingering in his voice. “That’s what I don’t get. Is he really getting attached, or is he just playing the part? I’ve never seen him act like this with a girl. Not once.”

There was a long pause before Sunghoon replied, his voice lower now, more serious. “I don’t know. It’s Jake. Who can say for sure? But… I think he might actually care. Just a little bit.”

You didn’t stay to hear more. You didn’t need to. The damage had been done.

You took a breath, steadying yourself. You hadn’t expected this, not like this. But the pieces were starting to fall into place. Jake had been different with you—maybe more than he’d been with anyone else. The thought that this could be a game, a bet, was suddenly so clear. You couldn’t just ignore it anymore.

Your heart was pounding, but you forced your feet to move, walking over to where Jake was standing. You pasted on a smile, trying to keep your voice steady, but it felt harder than ever before.

“Hey,” you greeted him, your voice betraying none of the turmoil inside. He smiled, his usual confident grin appearing on his face. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were standing on the edge of something, teetering between what you thought was real and what you had just overheard.

“Hey, you made it!” Jake’s voice was light, happy, as if nothing was wrong. But something in his eyes made you pause.

Maybe it was time to figure out just how deep this bet really ran. And whether you were just part of it—or something more.

You stood there with a smile stretched across your face, but your heart was pounding so hard you swore Jake could hear it. His grin was easy, his eyes soft when they landed on you, like he had no idea you’d just overheard everything. Like you hadn’t just heard your name tossed around like a prize in a bet.

So, you smiled back.

You smiled even though your hands were trembling at your sides. You leaned in closer when he talked, nodded when he joked, even laughed—though it was a little too sharp, a little too forced. Because you weren’t about to fall apart in front of him. Not when everything finally made sense.

If this was a game to him, then fine. You’d play.

You could act too. You could flirt back, make him think he had you wrapped around his finger. You could give him exactly what he wanted—attention, affection, maybe even more—just to turn it around on him later. Just to prove you weren’t some stupid girl who didn’t know what she was getting into.

“I missed you,” Jake said, brushing your hair off your shoulder as he leaned closer to be heard over the music.

Your breath hitched slightly, just for a second. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. You looked up at him, eyes wide and soft—just how he liked them. “Yeah?” you replied, your voice light, teasing, even though it shook at the end. “You’re not just saying that because I finally came out tonight?”

He laughed, completely taken with you. “No. I mean it.”

You didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Maybe part of you still wanted to. That was the most pathetic part. But you just nodded, playing along like everything was normal. Like your heart wasn’t breaking and piecing itself back together all in the same breath.

Jake kept talking, leaning in like he couldn’t get enough of you, and all you could think about was the sound of Jay’s voice—He’s really into this bet. And then Sunghoon’s, Or maybe it’s real.

You hated how badly you wanted that second part to be true.

But you pushed the thoughts down, deeper than they’d ever gone, and played your part. You looked up at Jake like he was the only person in the room, like your voice hadn’t just betrayed you a few moments ago. Like you didn’t feel like the punchline of some cruel joke.

Because if he thought you were falling for him—then you were already winning.

You’d play along. Smile. Flirt. Fall—just enough to make him think he won.

But neither of you realized that somewhere along the way, Jake had already stopped pretending.

The party had started to blur around the edges—music thumping, people laughing, the usual chaos of a Friday night. But all Jake could focus on was you.

You were standing by the kitchen counter, half-listening to some conversation you clearly didn’t care about, your arms crossed and your head tilted like you were already somewhere else. Like maybe, you didn’t belong in this room full of noise and people pretending.

Jake found himself watching you a little too long. Again.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to snap out of it, but the weight in his chest wouldn’t go away. The bet. The damn bet. It had been fun at first—a dumb challenge between him and Jay to see who could last longer in a relationship. A joke. Something to pass the time. But now, with you standing there looking like everything he didn’t know he needed, it didn’t feel like a joke anymore.

He pushed off the wall and walked toward you, slipping past the crowd.

“Hey,” he said, brushing his knuckles gently against your arm. You turned, a bit surprised, blinking up at him.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice still a little unsteady. You were trying to keep the act up—Jake could tell—but he didn’t know what it meant. Didn’t know that you had already heard the truth.

“You wanna get outta here?” he asked, eyes locked on yours.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

Jake smiled, but something in his chest twisted.

“Cool. Just—go ahead to my car, I’ll be right there,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the front door.

You gave him a small nod and slipped away without another word, your steps a little faster than usual.

Jake exhaled, then turned around and made his way through the crowd until he found Jay and Sunghoon standing by the back patio, drinks in hand, mid-laugh.

“Yo,” he called out, stepping up to them.

Jay glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Leaving already?”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. With YN.”

Jay smirked. “You’re really committed to this whole long-game thing, huh?”

But Jake didn’t laugh. His jaw clenched as he looked between the two of them.

“I’m ending it,” he said plainly.

Jay blinked. “What?”

“The bet,” Jake said again, firmer this time. “I’m done.”

Sunghoon straightened, exchanging a quick glance with Jay. “Seriously?”

Jake shrugged, but his voice was tight. “Yeah. It’s not fun anymore. I’m not… playing.”

Jay frowned, the smirk fading. “You caught feelings.”

Jake didn’t say anything.

Jay let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Sunghoon just nodded slowly, like he’d been expecting this. “Good. About time.”

Jake didn’t wait for more. He turned and headed for the door, his heart beating fast for reasons he couldn’t explain—not even to himself. He just knew one thing:

He didn’t want to hurt you. Not anymore.

When Jake stepped out into the cool night air, his heart was beating fast—but not with excitement, not with adrenaline. It was something else. Something heavier. Something he wasn’t used to.

He spotted you leaning against his car, arms crossed, your gaze fixed on the night sky like you were looking for answers. You looked calm, but you weren’t. You were still hearing Jay’s voice in your head—He’s really into this bet—like it was playing on loop.

Jake walked up slowly, unlocking the car with a soft beep.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, almost cautious.

You didn’t look at him right away. “Took you long enough.”

He let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Jay wouldn’t shut up.”

You gave him a tight smile and slipped into the passenger seat, still playing your part.

The drive was quiet. The city lights passed in a blur outside the windows, but inside the car, the silence stretched. You were trying to act normal, casual, maybe even a little detached. But Jake felt it. The difference.

And maybe that’s what made him speak.

“Are you okay?” he asked, not looking away from the road.

You shrugged. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

He didn’t believe you. But he didn’t push.

A few more minutes passed before your voice broke the silence again. “Why’d you invite me tonight?”

Jake glanced at you. “Because I wanted to be with you.”

You turned to him, searching his face for any flicker of dishonesty. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I just… like being around you.”

You held his gaze for a second longer than you should have, but your heart ached. Because you didn’t know what was real anymore.

When the car pulled up in front of your place, you unbuckled your seatbelt, hand hovering near the door handle. But you didn’t open it.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said quietly.

Jake didn’t say anything at first. Then, “YN, wait.”

You looked over, and before you could ask what, he leaned in.

His hand gently found your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. His touch was warm, careful. And then—he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t cocky or playful like you might’ve expected. It was slow. Almost unsure. Like he was feeling everything for the first time.

And for just that moment, the noise in your head stopped.

When he finally pulled away, he didn’t say anything. Neither did you.

You just stared at each other—confused, shaken, caught somewhere between a lie and a feeling that had started to feel too real.

You opened the door quietly, stepping out. Before you closed it, you leaned in just a little, voice softer than it had been all night.

“Goodnight, Jake.”

He watched you go, the echo of the kiss still warm on his lips.

And for the first time, Jake Sim wasn’t sure who was playing who anymore.

You lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding with a mix of emotions you couldn’t even begin to untangle.

Jake had kissed you.

And worse?

You had kissed him back.

You touched your lips absentmindedly, remembering the way he held you like you were fragile. Like you meant something. Like you were real.

But you weren’t falling for it. Not again.

No, you told yourself, turning over in bed and squeezing your eyes shut. You are not doing this.

He played you. He made you feel seen, chosen, like maybe—just maybe—you were special. All the soft smiles, the subtle touches, the “accidental” run-ins, the way he said your name like it was his favorite word. All of it had been leading to this. The kiss. The final act in his perfect little performance.

You gritted your teeth and swallowed the lump rising in your throat.

Never again.

You weren’t going to be that girl—the one who got strung along, who ignored every red flag, who made excuses just because he looked at her like the sun rose in her eyes. No. That girl was gone. You buried her the moment you heard Jay’s voice echo in your head: Jake is really into this bet.

This was all a game to him.

So now? You were going to play too.

You’d play the part of the clueless, lovesick girl. You’d give him exactly what he wanted—until you flipped the whole damn game back on him.

And when the time came, when he was fully convinced he had you wrapped around his finger, when he couldn’t tell the difference between real and fake anymore—you’d confront him. You’d look him dead in the eyes and tear the mask right off his face.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d watch his heart shatter the way yours almost did.

But the worst part—the most frustrating, infuriating, confusing part—was how damn convincing he was. The way his eyes softened when they met yours. The way he smiled like he meant it. The way he touched you like he cared.

He seemed so in love with you, it made your chest ache. Like maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all a lie.

And you hated that part more than anything.

Because for one small, dangerous second… you wanted it to be real.

It was one of those rare moments when everything felt almost normal again. You’d been home alone for a few hours, scrolling through your phone, when the text from Jake popped up.

@simjyn: Hey, I was thinking of coming over. You free?”

You stared at the message for a moment, a knot of nerves tightening in your stomach. You had been trying to keep things light with him—after everything that had happened, after hearing about the bet, you couldn’t let your guard down. But part of you still wanted to see him. Maybe part of you was still pretending things could be okay.

“Sure,” you replied, biting your lip. “I’m alone, so come on over.”

Not long after, the sound of the doorbell echoed through your apartment, and there he was, standing outside with that familiar smile. He wasn’t dressed any differently from the usual, but there was something in his eyes today. Something that made your heart skip in a way you hated.

Jake stepped inside, pulling you into a quick hug before you could even react. His hands lingered at your waist, warm and firm as he squeezed you close.

“You look good,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Thanks,” you muttered, stepping back to break the hold, though you could already feel your heartbeat accelerating.

You led him into the living room, where he flopped down on the couch with a sigh of relief, like he’d been waiting for this moment all day.

“So, what’s up?” you asked, trying to sound casual, though your heart was beating a little faster than you’d like to admit.

He grinned up at you. “Just wanted to see you,” he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

You nodded, though the words felt too heavy in your chest to speak. He wasn’t here just for a visit—he’d been clingier lately, texting you more than usual, wanting to be around you all the time.

It should have felt nice, but it felt suffocating. Every time he smiled at you, kissed your cheek, leaned in close like he couldn’t get enough—it made your stomach churn.

“You’ve been… kind of different lately,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, but the words had more bite than you intended.

Jake furrowed his brow, his expression shifting to something more concerned. “What do you mean?”

You swallowed, frustrated by how easily he could shift his tone. “You’re being… clingy. All the time.”

He tilted his head, eyes widening in confusion. “Clingy? I just like being around you. Is that a bad thing?”

You took a deep breath, leaning against the counter to steady yourself. You could feel the tension rising in your chest, the frustration bubbling over.

“Jake,” you began, voice trembling just slightly. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m not some… some toy for you to mess with. I’m not a prize, and I’m definitely not some girl to play along with your little bet anymore. If you’re really into me—then fine, but if this is just some fucking joke, then get the hell out.”

His face faltered for a second, just a flash of confusion before his gaze softened, his hands reaching for you. “I—what? No, YN, I’m not playing any game—”

You took a step back, hands trembling at your sides, the anger, the hurt, and the disappointment threatening to spill out.

“I know about the bet, Jake,” you snapped, cutting him off. “I know exactly why you started all this. And I’m done pretending I don’t. I’m not going to be the one who falls for this, okay? Not when you don’t even know what you want.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. Jake didn’t move, his eyes wide, and for the first time, you saw something flicker in them—something that looked like regret.

But it was too late.

You turned your back on him, pacing toward the window, your heart pounding in your ears. “Just go,” you said, voice cold. “I don’t want you here. Not like this.”

“YN, wait—” he started, his voice softer, like he was trying to make you understand. “I’m not lying. I’m not playing games anymore. I—”

“Just go, Jake,” you snapped, spinning around to face him. “I don’t want to hear it.”

You could see the hesitation in his eyes, the uncertainty that had never been there before. But you couldn’t bring yourself to soften. Not when he had already crossed the line.

With one last look, Jake slowly stood up, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Then, without a word, he walked toward the door, the weight of the moment sinking in with every step.

And just like that, he was gone.

You sank down onto the couch, your mind racing. You told yourself you wouldn’t trust him again, you reminded yourself. You wouldn’t fall for it.

But deep down, there was a part of you that still wished this wasn’t the end.

Still hoped, somehow, that Jake would come back. But you didn’t trust that part.

The next day at school was chaos.

You barely made it ten steps into the building before you heard your name—sharp, urgent.

“YN!”

You stopped, heart clenching as you turned to see Jake storming down the hall toward you. His eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of desperation and something dangerously close to hurt. You froze in place as he reached you, his voice already rising.

“You knew.” His words sliced through the tension in the air. “You knew this whole time and you were punishing me, weren’t you?”

Your breath caught.

Students slowed around you. Some stopped walking altogether. You could feel the shift—phones slipping out of pockets, eyes glinting with curiosity. You tried to step around him, but Jake moved with you.

“You acted like nothing was wrong,” he went on, voice getting louder. “You smiled, you kissed me, you looked at me like—like I meant something to you.”

You snapped. “Yeah? Well, welcome to my world.”

His expression twisted like you’d hit him.

“You were playing me from the start,” you hissed, trying to keep your voice steady, but it wavered with the weight of everything. “I heard Jay. I heard everything. And I kept going, Jake. I kept smiling, kept letting you in, because I wanted to see how far you’d go.”

He blinked like he couldn’t process it, like he hadn’t thought you’d actually know.

“You—” He shook his head. “You kissed me back.”

“You made me believe it was real.”

“I didn’t fake any of it!” he fired back, stepping closer. “You think this is just about a bet now? You think I haven’t lost sleep over this—over you?”

The hallway was dead silent except for your voices. Students were openly filming now, whispering like wildfire spreading through the air.

“Jake Sim and YN?”

“She’s actually yelling at him.”

“I heard it was a bet. Is that true?”

You glanced at them, your fists clenching at your sides, your chest rising and falling fast.

“Jake Sim chasing someone like her?” someone murmured nearby. It stung. It always did.

You turned back to Jake. “You had your fun, right? You got what you wanted. Just leave it alone.”

But Jake didn’t move. His jaw was clenched, his eyes locked on you like he couldn’t look away even if he tried.

“I didn’t fall for you because of a bet,” he said quietly, voice raw. “But I might’ve lost you because of it.”

That did something to your chest. You hated it.

You hated him for saying the one thing you weren’t ready to hear.

Without another word, you turned and walked away—past the stares, past the whispers, past Jake.

And for once, you didn’t look back.

The next day, you didn’t expect to run into Jay—especially not when you were still raw, still reeling, still angry. But there he was, leaning against the lockers near your homeroom, like he’d been waiting.

The second he saw you, he pushed off the wall and walked straight up, his expression unreadable.

“Why did you chew him out like that?” he asked, no greeting, no hesitation. His voice wasn’t angry, just confused—tired, maybe. “In front of everyone?”

You froze, blinking up at him. “You’re seriously asking me that?”

Jay crossed his arms. “Yeah. Because the guy’s been a mess since yesterday. You acted like he’d—what, humiliated you? Like he was still playing you or something.”

You laughed, sharp and bitter. “The audacity to ask that when this whole thing started as some game between you and him.”

Jay’s eyes narrowed, confusion flashing across his face. “Game?”

“Don’t play dumb, Jay,” you snapped. “I heard you and Sunghoon at the party. You literally said he was invested in the bet. What else was I supposed to think? That everything he said and did was real?”

Jay went quiet for a second, then shook his head, almost like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Wait—wait,” he said slowly. “You thought the bet was still on?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

Jay exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck like the weight of it all had just hit him. “YN… Jake called it off. He called it off way before he asked you out. He told us it didn’t feel right anymore. That you weren’t just some challenge or a joke—he wanted something real.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

“No, he didn’t,” you muttered, barely audible.

“He did,” Jay said. “I swear on everything. He told us it stopped being about the bet a long time ago. That he wanted to be with you for real, no games. And honestly… we could all tell. He wasn’t faking anything.”

You looked away, suddenly cold all over. Your brain scrambled to make sense of it, replaying every interaction, every touch, every word. Had it all been real? Had he actually cared?

The guilt hit like a truck.

You chewed him out in front of everyone. You looked him in the eye and threw his feelings back at him because you thought he was still playing. Because you were scared.

Jay’s voice was quieter now. “He was falling for you, YN. He still is. But after yesterday… I don’t know if he’ll try again.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

You just stood there, heart cracked open, with nothing to say and everything to feel.

You didn’t go to class that morning.

Instead, you found yourself sitting alone behind the school gym, knees pulled to your chest, trying to breathe through the ache in your chest. Everything felt like it was collapsing in slow motion. You were the one who was supposed to have control now. You were the one playing him—so why did it feel like you were the one who lost?

He ended the bet.

He wanted something real.

And you… you’d shoved it all back in his face, right in front of everyone. You humiliated him for something he had already walked away from—because of you.

The worst part? He hadn’t even defended himself.

He just stood there, took it, because maybe he thought he deserved it. Or maybe… because he didn’t want to hurt you anymore.

You remembered the look in his eyes—the way they didn’t hold that smug glint anymore, the way they softened when he looked at you like you were something fragile, something he was afraid to break.

And you had shattered it first.

You rested your forehead on your knees, eyes burning. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t fall for him. Promised you’d get even. And maybe you had.

But it didn’t feel like winning.

It felt like you’d pushed away the one person who had tried—really tried—to love you, in the only way he knew how.

Maybe he messed up. Maybe you both did.

But somewhere between the lies, the games, and the dares, something real had bloomed. And now?

Now it was buried under everything unsaid.

But feelings don’t just disappear. Not like that.

So maybe… maybe this wasn’t the end.

Maybe it was the part right before you decided what kind of story this was really going to be.

here to be added to permanent tag list PART TWO OUT NOW

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globaloppaaa · 19 days ago

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𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

thinking about the way Jake absolutely abuses the name sweetheart. it doesn’t matter where you are or who you’re with, the name engraves itself in his mind from the first time he calls you it, slipping from his lips ever so casually you almost miss it.

“can you grab me a shirt, sweetheart?”

it stiffens your frame, making you turn to him with wide eyes. Now you’re viewing him entirely, shirtless with his sweatpants hung low around his waist. you swallow a hitched breath, unaware of what to be more overwhelmed by. The fact that he’s so comfortably exposed to you, or that he’s caressed you with just his words alone. He stutters at your gaze, lifting his hand to scratch behind his ear awkwardly. “Sorry, it just felt right.”

you grab one of his T-shirts from his drawer, approaching him with half a coy smile to hide your fluster. You take the chance to wrap your arms around his neck, lightly playing with his hair. Instinctively his hands find your waist, and it’s hard not to collapse at the way his thumbs run circles to your sides. “Can you call me that again?”

“sweetheart?” He asks curiously, even though he knows exactly what you’re talking about. One hand traces up your back as he ponders for a second, looking back and fourth between your eyes. He gives you the sweetest smile, before his lips find yours in a swift kiss.

“I don’t plan on ever stopping.”

months pass, and sweetheart has seemingly settled as your new name. his friends and family understand, they know it can’t be helped, because when he looks at you he can barely think straight. And god forbid you look at him? It’s like his heart is taken right out of his chest, held by you, and then put back in to resurrect him. Sometimes sweetheart is quite literally the only thought turning in his mind, the idea of you pondering in his head every hour of the day. It perfectly captures all that he loves you for. It has its endearing moments, its flirtatious advances, and savors every moment you two share together. Jake won’t use that term for anything else, even if he tried. You’ll always be his sweetheart.

reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated!

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ceramini · 20 days ago

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SIM JAEYUN, enhypen nsfw audio 𝝑𝑒 (smut, nsfw, top!jake, warnings: hand job, praise kink) 𔓕 you fisting jakes dick as a reward after seeing how good he looked on jimmy kimmel, wanting him to know how proud you are.

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6atals · 2 months ago

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[제이크] 𝜗𝜚 ┈ your pussy so good, jake might throw up a set . . .

𝓌𝗲𝗮𝗹𝘁𝗵𝘆!𝒿𝗮𝗸𝗲 ˖ 𝒻𝗲𝗺!𝓇𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 g. smut , nsfw , manhandling , skinship , established relationship , daddy kink , oral (f. rec) pwnp. 622WC ─── ℛ𝙀𝘼𝘿𝒾𝗡𝗚 𝓈𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗙 (coming soon ??) . 𓋜 . intimacy , pussy drunk ⟡ ⋆ not requested! not proofread! — reblog to become apart of the taglist ❤︎︎ my inbox is always open!

ℳ𝗶𝗿𝗮’𝘀 𝓃𝗼𝘁𝗲! 🗯️ . . . based off that one bruno mars song, i can’t get it out my head..

fat, juicy, and wet.

were the only three words jake needed to describe your tasty cunt. maybe, his stress reliever, his motivation to get through the day, nope. fat, juicy, and wet.

you knew jake was a madman when you two got into the bedroom, but something about today was different with jake.

“mm.. jakey..” you gripped onto his hair and looked down at him.

his tongue latched onto the nub of your clit hungrily, one hand keeping you pinned to the couch and the other one going higher to massage your breasts. you moaned out at the feeling of so many different feelings at a time. “goddamn mama.. this pussy is gonna be the death of me. could eat this pussy all day.” he moaned into your clit, closing his eyes as he embraced your cunt as if it were some prize he had worked for all week.

your legs clamped around his head, trying to get more friction. by now, he’s memorized all the parts that make you squirm whenever his tongue brushes across it. “had such a bad fucking— day today. fuck.. stupid fucking workers don’t know what they’re doing.. mmngh..missed this sweet pussy angel..”

jake groans into your sopping cunt about how, "can’t believe i had to wait all day for this little pussy.. fuck," pausing, simply to pull back and shoot at messy dime of spit right in between your folds. “was thinking about this fucking pussy all day. my fucking pussy.”

“daddy—please..”

the name falls right onto your lips, “daddy’s here baby. tell daddy what you want and he’ll give you it. you know daddy doesn’t like when you don’t speak.” he groaned softly into your sensitive bud, sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

his fingers dig into the plush of your thighs before sticking his tongue inside you. your back arches off the bed as you felt his tongue swirl specifically around your clit. “come on. answer me baby or i’ll stop.”

“o-oh fu—ck! wan you to eat me out until i.. cry..” you moaned out, your hands frantically trying to find something to grab as jake continued the abuse on your cunny.

"feels so fuckin- fuck, need more," you squeal as you deepen the arch of your back to get closer, your head naturally falling backwards. you were a blabbering mess.

the second you peer down and meet his gaze, he slips an obnoxiously long finger inside you, curling upwards to instantly find your sweet spot. over and over and over again, just to get that satisfying feeling of hearing you moan. all because of him. his lips never detaching from where he always insists they always belong. “such a greedy fucking girl. need more baby? need more of daddy’s tongue? beg for it, angel.”

“pl—ease daddy.. gonna.. gonna be so good for you.” you begged. the tip of his tongue hits that mushy spot that has your toes curling immediately— which doesn’t go unnoticed by jake, gaining a low chuckle from him.

he’s putting his lips back onto your swollen clit, slushing and slobbering his tongue against it as he pistons his digit deep inside you. “ff-fuuuckkk.. right there jakey! m’gonna- ah!”

“cum for me angel. you deserve it.” you moaned out before releasing all over his face. his chin covered in all your juices, his face remained with a proud “i did that” look as he pulled his digits out of you.

you sighed, closing your eyes shut. such an eager boy.

do not copy, repost or steal my works.

#(💌) 𝓂𝗶𝗿𝗮𝘀 𝒻𝗶𝗰𝘀! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) ˎˊ˗#enha imagines #enha smut #enha x reader #enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #jake enha #jake enhypen smut #jake enhypen #jake smut #enhypen jake #jake x reader #jake sim #jake #sim jaeyun smut #sim jake #sim jaehyun x reader

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mochiwonz · 4 months ago

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─── INTO YOU ୨୧

PAIRING. fem!reader x jake sim﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ FEATURING. heeseung as your older brother CONTENT. brother's bestfriend to ?? , smut , p in v , unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it !!) , kitchen sex , breast & nipple play , grinding , cursing , dirty talk , petnames , cumming inside , jake likes to tease ;3 , mention of pillow humping NOTE. not proofread & lowercase is intended !! enjoy this yummy smut fic ≧ᗜ≦

the one and only, jake sim— heeseung's closest friend since the eighth grade. him and heeseung were both older than you, jake being born in 2002 and heeseung being born in 2001. not that age really mattered, though. ever since heeseung had first introduced jake to you, you'd always felt like he was a bit immature. too loud, too mischevious, just not your cup of tea. even at the ripe age of 21, you still saw him as a boy.

it wasn't until he turned 22 that you'd realized something changed.

it seemed as though jake had finally grown into a man— and a very good-looking one at that.

he changed the way he dressed, swapping out his skinny jeans for baggy cargo pants and sweatpants and plain hoodies for leather jackets and much more. he'd also gotten a haircut and learned how to style it.

quite the opposite of what'd you expect from him.

he also started wearing cologne— a clean but musky scent that you really liked.

you never expected yourself to ever be attracted to jake, but it happened. you were actually starting to find the one and only, jake sim, attractive.

at first, you were definitely in denial, comprehending the whole situation. you'd practically despised him since you'd first laid your eyes on him, god you couldn't believe it.

"hey y/n" jake waved at you from across the living room as you made your way downstairs to grab a cup of water.

"hey" you simply replied, not wanting to give him too much attention. you didn't even spare him a glance. you couldn't, or else you'd probably turn red.

even though you didn't look at him, directly— you could see him from your peripheral vision. he was wearing a pair of baggy grey sweatpants, a fitted black tank top, and a hat that he was wearing backwards. you could also tell that he was very obviously manspreading.

he looked hot as fuck.

of course, jake had noticed how you avoided him these days. he noticed how you would never make eye-contact, never glance at him, and never even really speak to him. he usually brushed it off as something to due with tiredness or stress, but today it felt different— like you were avoiding him for a very different reason.

you'd just gotten a glass from the cupboard and walked over to the fridge to fill it up when you heard him get up from the couch.

' oh, he's probably just going to the bathroom ' you thought.

you'd convinced yourself of that until you felt jake's presence right behind you.

"y/n" he said while clearing his throat, trying to grab your attention.

no, you had to make a run for it. you couldn't embarrass yourself infront of jake, especially right now— you weren't even wearing any makeup.

you quickly put down the glass of water on the nearest counter top and started to speed-walk away from him when you felt a grip on your wrist.

"jake, i need to go—" you were about to make a stupid excuse, until he cut you off.

"no y/n, you don't need to go anywhere right now." he says in an almost stern tone of voice, pulling you towards him by your wrist. "you know, i can tell that you're avoiding me... right?

you nervously laugh in response. were you that obvious or was he just really good at reading people?

"wasn't avoiding you..." you say under your breath. anyone could tell that you were lying, it was blatantly obvious— how you stared at the grown and wouldn't dare to get any closer to him.

"you sure, pretty?" he swiftly moves his hand from your wrist to your waist and pulls you even closer to him.

he was so close to you, you could even feel his breath on your face. you swore you could hear his heartbeat, too.

you froze, voice caught in your throat. everything was happening way too quick, you weren't even processing anything right now.

"cat got your tongue?" he chuckles, bringing his hand to your chin— indicating for you to look at him.

you reluctantly look up at him and wow. he was just gorgeous. seeing him this up-close gave you the craziest butterflies you'd ever felt. his tall nose, plump lips, pretty puppy eyes, and honey-tanned skin really did it for you.

jake felt the same way about you. he hadn't seen you this close since... forever. you'd always been pretty, but you were absolutely beautiful, now. the way your eyes were shining, the natural shade of your lips, your bare skin— you looked like an angel.

"you're so handsome" you say as if in a daze, your lips betraying you.

it's not until he plants a peck on your lips that you realize what you'd just said.

"mm, see? i knew it" jake says as he wraps both arms around your waist and turns you around— so that your back is against his chest.

all you could do was let out a weak whimper in response.

"it's okay pretty, i think you're so so gorgeous" he tells you in a low, raspy voice— his hot breath lingering on your skin.

before you can process what just happened in the last 10 seconds, he's quick to turn you around. only now, you're facing him.

jake is quick to pull you into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. you wrap your arms around his neck as his large hands find your ass, groping it.

"shit baby, you taste so good" jake manages to groan out in-between kisses.

you'd been daydreaming about jake lately. especially about how he'd kiss you. however, nothing could compare to how he actually kissed you. the way his plump lips felt as though they were molded for yours. the way he was basically attacking the insides of your mouth with his tongue. god, he was such a good kisser.

you tangle your hands in his pretty black hair as you deepen the kiss. in one swift motion, jake picks you up and gently places you on the cold, granite countertop.

growing needier and needier by the second, you start to rut your clothed cunt against his erect cock.

you both pull away from the kiss, breathless and in a daze. jake is quick to grind his hips up into yours.

"fuuckkk" he moans as he throws his head back, "feels s' good, pretty— fuckk"

your lips form an "O" shape as you squeeze your eyes shut, the pleasure almost unbearable.

sure, you'd humped your pillow thinking of jake, but this was definitely more than a thousand times better.

"jae— ngh!" you lay back onto the countertop as jake pulls your hips closer to his, increasing the friction.

"call me that again" he grunts in a deep yet breathless tone of voice, pretty black hair sticking to his already sweaty forehead.

"faster jae! faster!" you moan out in almost a shriek. you're not sure how much of a mess you are right now, you just know that you feel so fucking good.

before you can even catch on, you feel that familiar feeling in your stomach— you were so close, so close to cumming. and right before you reached your climax, jake pulled his hips away from yours.

jake catches how you frown at the loss of friction and laughs.

"not funny..." you say, staring at his veiny hands and forearms.

"never thought it was funny, princess. just want you to cum on my cock"

you feel your pussy get even more soppy at his dirty words. you knew that your panties were most definitely soaked, at this point.

"that's what you want, right pretty girl?" he asks, already knowing what you're going to answer. he just wanted to tease you a little.

pretty, pretty girl, baby, princess— all the petnames were killing you. not only that but his thick accent, too.

"yes" you mumble.

"hm?" he teases, slowly removing your pajama top— loving how your ears go completely red.

"yes please jae— " you're caught off guard by a warm, wet feeling around your nipple, jake's mouth. he's flicking your hardened nub with his tongue while groping your other breast with his hand.

"oh fuckk jaee" you whine, the feeling unfamiliar but so good.

the pleasure he's giving you right now is quite literally insane. you didn't know what to do with yourself, you were a moaning mess. your hair was sticking to you forehead, your skin was glistening with sweat, and your eyes were rolled all the way to the back of your head.

you weren't the only one that was a moaning mess, jake was too. he was lost in the pleasure, desperately grinding his hardened cock against your thigh toying your erect nipple with his tongue, your little moans and whimpers making him even harder— if that was even humanly possible.

"want you now, shit— please" you say, squirming around. jake finally removes his plump lips from your breast and looks at you, his gaze filled with both adoration and lust.

without saying a word, jake swiftly removes your pajama shorts and his black tank top and grey sweatpants.

now you're completely bare, and so is jake.

he was shamelessly eyeing every inch of your body, his eyes moving from your collarbones, to your perky breasts, to your puffy, neglected cunt. you were so beautiful, so so beautiful.

becoming impatient, you sit up and tug on the band of his boxers, indicating that you really needed him, inside of you— now.

"want me so bad, huh y/nnie?" he teases, once again. you squeeze your thighs together at his statement, feeling your wetness dripping out of your pussy onto your inner thighs.

you eagerly nod in response, not being able to form an actual response. he pulls down his boxers to reveal his cock, on display just for you.

he had such a pretty dick, i mean— what did you expect? he was jake sim, after all. the tip of his cock was a pretty pink, the same shade of pink as his lips. it had 3 prominent veins wrapping around it. the way it was proudly standing against his abs was causing you to drool.

jake guides your hand to his dick, wrapping your hand around it and guiding your hand up and down. you both moan at the feeling, you couldn't believe this was happening. neither could he.

"feel how hard i am? see it? just f' you, pretty" he tells you as you smear his precum all over the tip of his cock. he squeezes his eyes shut at how your soft hand feels against him, so fucking good.

you remove your hand and lay back on your forearms, bringing your hips closer, causing your wet pussy to rub against his tip. he opens his eyes at the sudden loss of movement. he looks down at you, only to quickly gasp at the feeling of his tip rubbing against your sticky folds.

"shittt" he moans in an almost whiney tone. the feeling of your bare, wet cunt against his cock was making him lose his sanity. he swears he could cum just from this.

you're both grinding against eachother, until you feel his hips pull away from yours.

"jake wha—" you're immediately cut off by jake. not with words, though.

it's the feeling of his large, erect cock inside your gummy walls. you didn't even notice him sliding his dick into your pussy because of how absolutely wet you were.

"felt like i was about to cum, had to be inside you incase i did" he grunts, once again bringing his hand to cup your breast.

neither one of you moves. you were still adjusting and jake was just holding back, he was so close to just letting loose and fucking your brains out.

however, it was now your turn to catch him off guard. you started moving your hips at a quick pace while rubbing your clit with your thumb.

"oh fuck baby, just like that, keep fucking yourself on my dick like that, shitt"

you clench around his cock at his words, causing him to let out a whiney moan. he quickly leans down and leaves wet kisses along your neck.

jake notices how you've seemed to slow down and decides that he's really going to fuck you now— like how he has wanted to for so, so long.

he begins thrusting into you as you lazily grind your cunt against his dick. he's slamming his cock so deep inside of you at such an animalistic pace, it's almost unbearable. but in a good way, of course.

"shit, shit, shit" he grunts out every time he thrusts his dick into you, his balls slamming against your plump ass.

all you can do is moan and whimper. your hands are grabbing onto his hair so hard you'd think he'd be in pain, but he actually finds it so pleasurable.

"pussy so wet f' me, love this pussy" he slows down just a little, thrusting deeper instead of faster. with the way he's fucking you right now, you can hear how your pussy squelches every time he thrusts into you.

"hngh! jae, 'm gonna cum, gonna cum—" you moan loudly as you pull him into a sloppy kiss, cutting yourself off.

jake wastes absolutely no time and starts fucking you at an unreal pace, much quicker than before. within no time, he finds your g-spot and places his hand on your clit, rubbing circles on it. your hands are still tangled in his hair, still pulling on it.

"yeah? gonna cum for me? cum on this dick, princess— shitt, holy fuck" he rambles dirty words on and on, bringing you closer to your climax.

before you know it— you're creaming his cock with your cum. you black out for a few seconds from your intense orgasm, as jake continues to slam into you. he's so close, so fucking close.

"gonna cum inside you, fuck, fuck, fuck— squeezing me so tight baby, shittt"

jake lets out a loud grunt as he spills his load into your warm cunt, holding your body close to his.

yeah, this was the first time you two had fucked, but it definitely wasn't the last.

please like, reblog, and comment if u enjoyed :3 u can find my other works here !

#── mochiwonz ୨୧ #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jake smut #enhypen #enhypen smut #jake x reader #enhypen x reader #jaeyun x reader #enha smut #smut #enhypen jake #jake imagines #jaeyun smut #enhypen scenarios #sim jake #jake enhypen #jake enha

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ddksoo · 10 months ago

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pictures of bf!jake ENHYPEN send you

warnings: none lol

requests are open!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

taglist: @laylasbunbunny @moon0fthenight @oopshee @blackberryrains

send an ask to be added to the tl :)

#kpop fake texts #kpop texts #ᯓ★ enhypen #enhypen #enhypen texts #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #jake #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jake enhypen #jake enha #jake x reader #jake sim x reader #jake sim fluff #jake texts #jake sim texts

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jakely · 3 months ago

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jake for tiffanyandco

#jake #jake enha #jake sim #jake enhypen #sim jaeyun #enhypen #enhypenet #kpopccc #ultkpopnetwork #kpopedit #boyidoledit #boyidolnet #malegroupsnet #maleidolsedit #maleidolsnet #*ly #1000

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021894s · 9 months ago

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SIMS ANATOMY - JAKE SIM

SYNOPSIS: you, a top cardiac surgeon, find yourself increasingly frustrated by the distraction over the hospital’s new head of neurosurgery, Dr. Jake Sim. Despite your initial annoyance, you can't help but notice Jake's charm and undeniable skills. As you keep running into each other, Jake’s persistent yet respectful flirtations begin to break through your professional exterior.

PAIRING: neurosurgeon! jake x cardio surgeon! reader

GENRE: workplace romance, situationship

WARNINGS: explicit smut, unprotected sex (don’t), oral (m and f receiving), angst, language, MDNI!!

wc: 12k

You step out of the OR, still riding the adrenaline high from the successful triple bypass surgery you just completed. The intricate dance of sutures and clamps still echoes in your mind as you head towards the nurses' station to update your patient's chart. You’ve always prided yourself on your precision and dedication, and today was no exception.

As you settle into the chair, logging into the system, you can't help but overhear snippets of conversation from the nearby nurses. Their voices are hushed but excited, and despite yourself, your ears prick up at the mention of a new doctor.

"Oh my god, have you seen Dr. Sim yet?" one nurse gushes, her voice practically dripping with admiration. "He's the new head of neuro. I can't believe he's not married with kids."

"Seriously, he's so handsome," another chimes in. "I thought doctors like him only existed in movies."

You roll your eyes internally, feeling a twinge of annoyance. These nurses should be focusing on their patients, not swooning over some new doctor. You know the type—charming, overconfident, used to turning heads wherever he goes. You’ve seen it a hundred times. It’s frustrating to think that professional women, who you’ve seen handle the toughest of medical crises with unflinching composure, could be so easily distracted by a pretty face.

"He smiled at me in the break room," another voice adds, dreamy and far away. "I nearly melted."

You resist the urge to scoff out loud. Instead, you channel your irritation into the chart in front of you, updating the post-op notes with meticulous detail. Your patient, Mr. Harrison, came through the surgery well, and you want to ensure there are no loose ends in his care plan. His vitals are stable, and the grafts look good. You make a note to check on him in an hour.

The chatter continues unabated. "I heard he’s a genius in the OR," someone says. "Apparently, he’s revolutionized some new technique in neurosurgery."

"Brains and looks? Not fair," another nurse quips, and they all dissolve into giggles.

You finish charting, your irritation only growing. It’s not that you begrudge the nurses their moment of levity—being a nurse is hard, often thankless work, and they deserve a bit of fun. But the object of their admiration rubs you the wrong way. You’ve had to work twice as hard to be taken seriously in a male-dominated field, and the idea of a doctor coasting on his looks and charm irks you.

Shaking your head slightly, you stand up and grab the chart. There’s still a lot to do, and you don’t have time to dwell on some pretty boy neurosurgeon. If he’s really as good as they say, you’ll see for yourself soon enough. And if not, well, you’ve never had a problem putting overconfident doctors in their place.

As you walk away from the nurses' station, you hear one last wistful sigh. "I can't wait to see him in action."

Neither can you, you think, but for entirely different reasons.

You step out of the OR, mind still buzzing with the details of the successful valve replacement surgery you just completed. you head to the cardiac unit to check on post-op patients, but something feels off. The usually bustling ward is eerily quiet, with only one nurse, Olivia, stationed at the desk.

“Olivia,” you calls out, her voice cutting through the silence. “Where is everyone?”

Olivia looks up, a hint of guilt flashing in her eyes. “They’re at lunch,” she replies a little too quickly, her tone unconvincing.

you narrows her eyes, knowing Olivia well enough to sense when she’s not telling the full truth. “Olivia...” you say in a stern voice, crossing your arms.

Olivia shifts uncomfortably under your gaze. “Okay, fine,” she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “They’re in OR 2’s gallery.”

Confusion flickers across your face. “Why would they be in the gallery?” you ask, your irritation growing.

“Dr. Sim is clipping an aneurysm,” Olivia admits, unable to meet your eyes.

That’s all you need to know, storming off towards the gallery, your footsteps echoing through the hallways. The idea of your nurses neglecting their duties to watch a surgery infuriates your. Jake’s presence in the hospital had already been a source of frustration, and now he was serving as a distraction for your team.

Reaching the gallery, you push open the door and stride in, your eyes scanning the crowd of nurses huddled around the glass, their attention glued to the procedure below. you spot Jake in the OR, skillfully clipping the aneurysm, his focus unwavering.

“What is going on here?” you demand, voice slicing through the murmurs. The nurses jump, turning to face you with wide eyes. “Why are you all here instead of attending to your patients?”

One of the nurses, Carla, steps forward, stammering. “We... we just wanted to see Dr. Sim’s technique. It’s supposed to be groundbreaking.”

your glare is icy. “I don’t care how groundbreaking it is. Your patients come first. Get back to your stations, now.”

The nurses scurry out, their heads bowed in embarrassment. you watch them go, your anger simmering. Jake’s impressive skills might have captivated your team, but to you, he was nothing more than a distraction. you couldn’t afford to have the nurses slacking off, not when lives depended on their diligence.

you turn back to the OR, eyes locking onto Jake. For a brief moment, your gazes meet through the glass, and you see a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps? Or was it amusement? Shaking off the thought, you storm out of the gallery, determined to keep your team on track and your own frustrations with Jake in check.

You catch sight of Jake coming out of the OR, his surgical cap still on and his scrubs marked with the evidence of a long, intense procedure. He’s engrossed in conversation with another surgeon, but as you approach, he looks up and meets your gaze.

“You must be Dr. Sim,” you say, your voice firm.

Jake smiles, wiping his hands with a towel. “Dr. Y/L/N, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I could say the same about you,” you reply, not missing a beat. “Seeing as you’re the reason my nurses are disappearing during their shifts to watch this so-called groundbreaking technique of yours.”

His smile falters slightly, and he raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize my surgeries were causing any issues. I’m sorry if they’ve been a distraction.”

“They have,” you state bluntly, crossing your arms. “My team’s focus should be on their patients, not on observing other procedures or a certain brain surgeon, no matter how impressive they might be.”

Jake’s lips curl into a playful grin. “Oh, so you think I’m impressive?”

You feel a flush of annoyance, typical behavior for a neurosurgeon, always so full of themselves. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you implied it,” he teases, taking a step closer. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

You narrow your eyes, trying to maintain your stern demeanor. “My team doesn’t have time for distractions, Dr. Sim.”

“Fair enough,” he replies, his tone still light but his expression more serious. “I understand, and I’ll make sure to address it with the staff. I didn’t mean to disrupt the unit.”

You study him for a moment, gauging his sincerity. Despite your irritation, there’s something about his demeanor that disarms you slightly. You can’t help but notice his deep brown eyes, plump lips, and the way his Australian accent is way more attractive than it should be. You understand, in that moment, why the nurses might be so captivated.

“Good,” you say, your tone softening just a touch. “I appreciate that.”

Jake smiles again, this time a bit more warmly. “And if it’s any consolation, your reputation as a top cardiac surgeon is well-deserved. I look forward to working alongside you.”

“Likewise,” you reply, giving him a curt nod before turning to leave. As you walk away, you can’t shake the mixture of irritation and intrigue. Jake Sim might be causing headaches for your unit, but there’s no denying his skill and charm. You just hope he proves to be more than just a distraction.

A few days later, you find yourself in the hospital’s busy hallway, reviewing patient charts on your tablet. The hum of activity around you is a comforting backdrop until a familiar voice interrupts your focus.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” Jake calls out, his voice carrying that unmistakable Australian lilt. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You look up, and there he is, leaning casually against the wall, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Dr. Sim,” you acknowledge with a nod, trying to keep your tone neutral. “What can I do for you?”

“Just thought I’d say hello,” he replies, pushing off the wall and sauntering over to you. “And maybe ask how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” you respond, keeping your eyes on your tablet.

“Busy as usual, I see,” he notes, glancing at the screen. “You ever take a break?”

“Breaks are for people who don’t have critical patients to tend to,” you reply, not looking up.

He chuckles, the sound warm and annoyingly pleasant. “You know, there’s more to life than work. Maybe you need someone to remind you of that.”

You finally look up, raising an eyebrow. “And I suppose you think you’re that someone?”

“Could be,” he says with a confident grin. “I mean, who better to show you the lighter side of things?”

You roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at your lips. “You’re quite sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Confidence is a necessity in our line of work,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours. “But I’ve heard it helps in other areas too.”

“Oh really? Like what?” you ask, despite yourself.

He leans in a little closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Like convincing brilliant surgeons to step out of their comfort zones once in a while.”

You scoff lightly, shaking your head. “I don’t need convincing, Dr. Sim. I have my priorities straight.”

“Of course you do,” he replies smoothly. “But even the best of us need a break sometimes. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you out. Just offering a bit of friendly advice.”

You look at him, trying to figure out if he’s serious. “Friendly advice, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he says with a wink. “Think of it as a, professional courtesy.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite your best efforts to stay stern. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I get that a lot,” he says, flashing that infuriatingly charming smile. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to saving lives. But if you ever need a reminder of what fun looks like, you know where to find me.”

later that day, the hospital corridors are quieter than usual as you make your way to the elevators, finally heading home after a long shift. The soft hum of the building is almost soothing after the constant noise of the OR. You press the button and wait, your mind already shifting to thoughts of a hot shower and some much-needed sleep.

The elevator dings, and as the doors slide open, you see Jake standing inside, leaning against the back wall, his expression relaxed but alert. He looks up and his face lights up with a familiar, playful smile.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” he greets, stepping aside to make room for you. “Heading home too?”

“Dr. Sim,” you reply, stepping in and pressing the button for the ground floor. “Looks like it.”

The doors close, and the elevator begins its descent. The enclosed space suddenly feels a bit smaller with the two of you in it.

“Long day?” he asks, glancing over at you.

“You could say that,” you respond, leaning back against the wall. “You?”

“Same here,” he says, a hint of fatigue creeping into his voice. “But it’s all part of the job, right?”

You nod, a brief silence settling between you. It’s not uncomfortable, but there’s an unspoken tension, a mix of mutual respect and something else you can’t quite put your finger on.

“So,” Jake breaks the silence, a teasing note in his voice. “Any plans for the evening? Or are you one of those surgeons who lives and breathes work even at home?”

You raise an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips. “And what about you? Do you have a life outside the hospital, Dr. Sim?”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and genuine. “I try to, when I’m not dealing with brain surgery. But I’ll admit, it’s a challenge. The job can be all-consuming.”

“Tell me about it,” you agree, your tone more relaxed now. “Sometimes it feels like there’s no room for anything else.”

“Maybe that’s why it’s important to find some balance,” he says, his voice sincere. “Even if it’s just little moments here and there.”

You look at him, considering his words. There’s more to Jake than the cocky, flirtatious persona he often projects. “I suppose you’re right.”

The elevator dings again, signaling your arrival at the ground floor. As the doors open, you both step out into the lobby, the cool night air from outside brushing against your skin.

“Need a ride?” Jake offers, his tone casual but there’s a glint of genuine concern in his eyes. “It’s pretty late.”

“I’m good, thanks,” you reply, appreciating the offer but not ready to blur those professional lines just yet. “But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Count on it,” he says with a wink. “Have a good night, Dr. Y/L/N.”

“You too, Dr. Sim,” you respond, turning to head towards your car.

As you walk away, you can’t help but feel a strange mix of irritation and curiosity. Jake Sim might be a distraction, but there’s no denying that he’s also starting to become a presence you can’t quite ignore. And maybe, just maybe, that’s not entirely a bad thing.

The next day, you find yourself scrubbing in for a complex procedure. Today’s case is a particularly challenging one: a patient with both a severe cardiac condition and a cerebral aneurysm, requiring the combined expertise of both cardiac and neuro specialists. As you meticulously scrub your hands and arms, you hear the familiar voice of Jake Sim beside you.

“Looks like we’re working together today,” he says, his tone a mix of professionalism and that signature playful edge.

You glance over, meeting his eyes. “Seems like it. Ready for this?”

“Always,” he replies, his confident smile never wavering. “I’ve been looking forward to this case. It’s not every day we get to tackle something this intricate together.”

You nod, appreciating his enthusiasm despite your initial reservations about him. “Agreed. The patient’s condition is precarious. We need to be perfectly in sync.”

Jake gives you a serious nod, his demeanor shifting. “Absolutely. Let’s make sure we give them the best outcome possible.”

You both finish scrubbing in and enter the OR, where the patient is already prepped and waiting. The atmosphere is charged with a mix of tension and anticipation, the surgical team moving with practiced precision. As you take your place on one side of the patient, Jake positions himself on the other, eyes meeting over the sterile field.

“Ready to start?” you ask, your voice steady and focused.

“Ready,” Jake confirms, his expression equally determined.

The surgery begins, and the OR fills with the rhythmic beeping of monitors and the soft hum of machinery. You work methodically, your hands moving with practiced precision as you navigate the complex landscape of the patient’s heart. Jake mirrors your concentration, his focus unbroken as he tackles the aneurysm with equal skill.

“Forceps,” you request, your voice calm and controlled.

“Here,” the scrub nurse says, passing the instrument with a fluid motion. “How’s the heart looking?” jake asks

“Stable,” you reply, glancing up briefly to meet his eyes. “How about the aneurysm?”

“It’s going well,” he answers, his tone steady. “We’re almost there.”

As the surgery progresses, you find yourselves falling into a natural rhythm, your movements synchronized in a way that surprises you. There’s a subtle, unspoken understanding between you, each anticipating the other’s needs and adjustments.

“Nice work on that bypass,” Jake comments, his tone genuinely appreciative.

“Thanks,” you reply, a small smile forming behind your mask. “Your precision with the aneurysm is impressive.”

“Coming from you, that means a lot,” he says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice.

Hours pass, but the intensity of your focus never wanes. Finally, as the last suture is placed and the patient’s vitals stabilize, you both step back, a sense of accomplishment settling over you.

“Great job, everyone,” you say to the team, who respond with nods and murmurs of agreement.

Jake meets your eyes, his expression one of respect and something more. “We make a good team, Dr. Y/L/N.”

You nod, feeling a surprising sense of camaraderie. “We do, Dr. Sim. Let’s hope the patient has a smooth recovery.”

As you step out of the OR and begin the process of de-scrubbing, you can’t help but reflect on the day’s events. Working alongside Jake, seeing his skill and dedication firsthand, has shifted your perspective. He’s still cocky, still flirty, but there’s depth and talent beneath that exterior.

“Drinks tonight to celebrate?” Jake asks, a teasing glint in his eye as you both head towards the locker rooms.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe another time, Dr. Sim. But good work today.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says, dropping the formalities for a moment. “Seriously, it was an honor working with you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” you admit, giving him a genuine smile before heading off to change.

The next few weeks bring more opportunities for you and Jake to work together, and each collaboration reveals another layer of his skill and personality. Despite his initial cockiness, Jake proves to be a dedicated and talented surgeon, and you begin to see him in a new light. The more time you spend together in the OR, the more you find yourself appreciating his expertise and even enjoying his company.

One evening, you find yourself finishing up some paperwork in the quiet cardiac unit. The day had been long, but fulfilling, with several successful surgeries under your belt. As you look up from your desk, you see Jake approaching, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Hey," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "You still here?"

"Just wrapping up," you reply, setting aside your pen. "What about you?"

"Same," he says, stepping into your office. "I was going to head out, but I thought I'd check in on you first."

"Checking in on me, huh?" you say with a hint of amusement. "What for?"

"Well, I was thinking," he starts, a bit more serious than usual. "We've been working together a lot lately, and I wanted to say thank you. For trusting me in the OR and for being an amazing colleague."

You feel a warm glow at his words, appreciating the sincerity behind them. "Thank you, Jake. You've been a great partner in the OR. I couldn't have asked for a better neurosurgeon to collaborate with."

Jake smiles, the familiar twinkle returning to his eyes. "You know, I think we make a pretty good team."

"I think so too," you admit, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's been nice, working with you."

"Nice, huh?" he teases, his playful side emerging once more. "I'll take that as a high compliment coming from you."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Don't let it go to your head, Sim."

He chuckles, but his expression soon turns more contemplative. "You know, I've been thinking about what I said the other day. About balance and taking breaks. It's something I'm not great at either."

"a little hypocritical to be giving me advice then no?," you reply, your tone light but teasing. "It's hard to switch off when our work is so demanding."

"Exactly," he agrees. "But I've realized that maybe we could help each other with that. Maybe we could find a way to balance things out a bit more."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "And how do you propose we do that?"

"How about we start with something simple?" he suggests. "Like taking a real break. Maybe grab a coffee together, no work talk allowed. Just two colleagues, taking a breather."

You consider his offer, the idea surprisingly appealing. "Alright, Dr. Sim. Coffee sounds good."

Jake's smile widens, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "Great. Tomorrow morning, then? Before our rounds?"

"Tomorrow morning," you agree, feeling a flutter of anticipation.

The next morning, you find yourself at the hospital’s small café, waiting for Jake. The early hour means the space is quiet, with only a few other staff members milling about. When Jake arrives, he’s carrying two steaming cups of coffee, a smile on his face.

“Good morning,” he greets, handing you a cup. “Thought I’d get us a head start.”

“Thanks,” you say, accepting the coffee and taking a sip. “So, what’s on your mind, Dr. Sim?”

“Just enjoying the company,” he replies, sitting down across from you. “And maybe getting to know the person behind the scalpel a little better.”

You chuckle, feeling a bit more at ease. “Alright, what do you want to know?”

“Let’s start simple,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “What do you do when you’re not saving lives?”

You think for a moment, realizing how rare it is for you to talk about anything other than work. “I like to read, mostly. And sometimes I go for a run. It helps clear my head.”

“Sounds nice,” he says, nodding. “I’m more of a swimmer myself. It’s the one thing that keeps me sane outside the OR.”

“Swimming, huh?” you ask, surprised. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a swimmer.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Y/N,” he says, his tone teasing but with a hint of seriousness.

“Maybe,” you admit, feeling a strange curiosity about him. “But I’m starting to think I’d like to find out.”

The conversation flows easily, and you find yourself genuinely enjoying the time with Jake. As you talk, you see different sides of him—his passion for his work, his dedication to his patients, and even a vulnerable side that he rarely shows.

When it’s time to head back to your respective departments, you feel a sense of connection that wasn’t there before. Maybe Jake Sim is more than just a distraction. Maybe he’s someone worth getting to know.

As you part ways, he gives you a warm smile. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time,” you agree, already looking forward to it.

And so, a new routine begins. Coffee in the mornings, shared surgeries, and increasingly personal conversations. The barriers you once held up start to crumble, and you find yourself drawn to Jake in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

Weeks pass, and the connection between you grows stronger. One evening, after another successful surgery, Jake catches up to you in the hallway.

“Hey,” he says, slightly out of breath. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” you reply, curious.

“I was thinking,” he starts, looking a bit nervous for the first time. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together, and I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you. I’d like to take you out for dinner. No work, just us.”

You feel a flutter of surprise and anticipation. “Dinner?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “What do you say?”

You consider for a moment, then nod. “Alright, Jake. Dinner sounds good.”

As he walks away, you can’t help but smile.

The evening of your date arrives, and you’re both excited and a bit nervous. You’ve chosen a smart but casual outfit, and after a final check in the mirror, you’re ready. Your heart flutters with anticipation as you hear the sound of a car pulling up outside your apartment.

When you open the door, Jake is standing there, looking effortlessly charming in a blazer and jeans. His eyes light up as he sees you, and he smiles warmly.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” he says with a grin. “You look pretty.”

“Thank you, Dr. Sim,” you reply with a smile, feeling a bit flustered. “You look pretty sharp yourself.”

He gestures to the car parked behind him. “Shall we?”

You nod and follow him down to the car. As you slide into the passenger seat, Jake starts the engine and glances over with a playful smile.

“So, are you ready for an evening of fine dining and even finer conversation?” he asks, his tone light and teasing.

“I’m definitely looking forward to it,” you reply, settling into the seat and feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity.

As he drives, the conversation flows easily. Jake talks about his day and a recent surgery he performed, and you share some anecdotes from your own work. The drive is filled with laughter and engaging conversation, making you feel more at ease.

When you arrive at the restaurant, Jake parks and opens the door for you, offering his hand to help you out. The restaurant is a cozy bistro with warm lighting and a relaxed atmosphere. Jake leads you inside and to your reserved table, which is positioned by a window with a view of the city lights.

“This place looks lovely,” you say as you take your seat, admiring the ambiance.

“I’m glad you like it,” Jake replies, settling into his chair across from you. “I thought it would be a nice spot for our first dinner out.”

The evening progresses with delightful conversation and delicious food. Jake is attentive and charming, making sure you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself. As you both talk about various topics, you find yourself opening up more than you expected.

At one point, Jake asks, “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t had the chance to yet?”

You think for a moment, considering the question. “I’ve always wanted to take a cooking class. I love to cook, but I think it would be fun to learn some new techniques and recipes.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Jake says, nodding. “Maybe we could take a class together sometime. I’ve always wanted to learn how to cook Italian cuisine.”

You smile at the thought. “That could be fun. I’d be up for that.”

As the evening progresses, the conversation turns more personal. Jake shares stories about his family and his upbringing in Australia. He talks about the challenges of being far from home and the sacrifices he’s made for his career.

“It’s not always easy being so far away from my family,” Jake admits. “I miss them a lot, especially during the holidays.”

“I can imagine,” you say sympathetically. “My family is close by, and we have our own share of drama, but I’m grateful for their support.”

Jake nods, appreciating your understanding. “Family can be complicated, but it’s important to have that support system.”

You both continue to share personal stories and insights, finding common ground in your experiences. By the end of the evening, you feel a genuine connection with Jake, one that goes beyond professional respect.

When the check arrives, Jake insists on paying. “It’s my treat tonight,” he says with a smile. “Consider it a small thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“Thank you, Jake,” you reply, feeling touched by his gesture. “I really appreciate it.”

. The night air is crisp and refreshing, and the drive home is filled with easy conversation. When you arrive at your apartment, Jake parks and turns to you with a hopeful expression.

“I had a great time tonight,” he says softly. “I hope you did too.”

“I did,” you reply with a smile. “Thank you for such a lovely evening.”

you hesitate for a moment, then look at jake with a warm smile. “Would you like to come up? Maybe just hang out and talk some more?”

he considers the offer, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity. “That sounds nice. I’d love to.”

He smiles and follows you up to your apartment. As you enter, the space feels even more welcoming with the soft lighting and cozy atmosphere. You both get comfortable on the couch with drinks, and the conversation continues to flow effortlessly.

You find yourselves talking about everything from past relationships to future aspirations. As the conversation flows, Jake starts to open up about his past relationships. “You know, I’ve had my fair share of relationships that didn’t work out. One of the biggest challenges was balancing the demands of work and personal life. It’s not easy to find someone who understands the hours and the emotional toll.”

“I get that,” you say sympathetically. “It’s hard to maintain a relationship when your job takes up so much of your time and energy. My last relationship ended for similar reasons.”

Jake looks at you with genuine curiosity. “What happened?”

You take a deep breath, reflecting on your past. “We were together for a few years, and it started out great. But as time went on, he couldn’t handle the unpredictability of my schedule and the stress of my job. We drifted apart, and eventually, we just grew in different directions.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jake says softly. “It’s never easy to end a relationship, especially when it’s someone you care about.”

“Thanks,” you reply. “It’s part of life, I guess. We both moved on and found our own paths.”

Jake nods, taking a sip of his wine. The easy conversation slows, a new, more, intimate silence settling between the two of you.

Jake shifts slightly, closing the gap between you. his eyes locked on yours. you could feel the heat radiating off his body, and you suddenly felt very aware of your own. He reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

your heart raced as Jake leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. you responded eagerly, parting your lips to allow his tongue to explore your mouth. you could feel the heat building between you as you kissed, your bodies pressed together.

Jake's hands began to wander, tracing patterns on your back. you could feel his fingers brushing against the zipper of your dress, and you shivered with anticipation.

Jake pulled away from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "May I?" he asked, his hand hovering over the zipper.

You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps. Jake slowly unzipped the dress, his fingers brushing against your skin as he did so. You felt a thrill run through your body as the dress fell to the floor, leaving her standing in just your matching black bra and panties.

Jake's eyes roamed over yourbody, taking in every inch of you. You could feel yourself growing wet as he looked at you, his desire obvious and reflecting your own.

Jake stepped closer to you, his hands reaching out to touch you. You could feel his fingers tracing the lace of your bra, you shivered with pleasure. He leaned in and began to kiss your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

a soft moan escapes as Jake's lips moved down your body, his hands following close behind. “you’re so fucking beautiful” He reached your breasts, his fingers tracing the outline of your nipples through the lace of your bra. You could feel yourself growing wetter with every touch, your body begging for more. “been thinking about this since the first day I saw you”

Jake reached behind You and unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. He cupped your tits in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your nipples. You moaned as he touched you, your body responding to his touch.

Jake's mouth moved lower, his lips brushing against your stomach. you could feel his breath against her skin, and she shivered with anticipation. “w-ant you” He reached for your panties, “relax baby I got you”, his fingers tracing the outline of your pussy through the fabric.

you gasp as Jake's fingers slip beneath your panties, his fingers exploring your folds. you could feel yourself growing wetter with every touch, your body begging for more.

Jake pulled your panties down, his eyes locked on your pussy, “shit baby, you’re so wet f’me, such a pretty pussy” He leaned in and began to kiss your inner thighs, his lips igniting the heat pooling in your lower belly.

Jakes mouth moved lower, his lips brushing against your pussy. a loud moan leaves your lips as he began to lick at your entrance, your hand instinctively going between your legs to run your fingers through his black locks. “fuck, jake feels so fucking good don’t stop” he hums in response, the vibration going straight to your core.

he’s practically making out with your cunt licking and sucking, his saliva and your juices combined, making a mess on your couch, but that was the last thing on your mind right now. “fuck i’m c-cuming” your orgasm rapidly approaching. “yeah baby cum on my tongue, fuck can’t get enough of you, you taste so sweet”. at his words, your orgasm hits you like a wave, your body shaking with pleasure.

Jake stood up, his eyes locked on yours. you could see the desire in his eyes, and you knew what he wanted. you reached out and unbuttoned his pants, fingers brushing against his hard cock.

Jake stepped out of his pants, his hard cock springing free. while he wasn’t remarkably long, he definitely made up for it in girth. You reached out and wrapped your hand around it, stroking it gently. “ah shit baby” you could feel him growing harder in your hand, your excitement noticable.

he pushed you down onto the couch, climbing on top of you. “condom?” he asked, stopping in his tracks before he gets too ahead of himself. “it’s fine, just put it in” you reach down between you two, taking hold of his length as you begin to guide his cock into your dripping heat. his cock twitches at the thought of feeling you with nothing in between, “fuck, are you sure?”, “yeah, m’on the pill, just fuck me already please” your walls clench around nothing, needing to feel him inside you more than anything.

without another word he slides in. the stinging sensation quickly turning into one of pleasure. your pussy gripping him tightly as he sets a pace that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “so fucking tight, pretty, you’re squeezing me so good. pussy was made for my cock mhm?” you can’t even find the words to reply, the pleasure all too much to even think straight.

“feels so good jake” your words encourage him, his thrusts growing more quick, chasing his release as well as your own. the room is filled moans and the sloppy, wet sounds of his cock pounding into your hole. “s-so close, faster baby, want your cum inside me” you don’t have to tell him twice, his hips snapping into a pace that has you seeing stars.

“cum for me baby, cum on my cock” his hand reaches between you to rub your clit in quick circles, sending you over the edge “fuck! i’m cumming!” your release consumes you, his following not too long after.

he collapses next to you on the tiny couch, the both of you panting and out of breath as you come down from your high. “that was amazing” you turn your head to look at him, his eyes closed from pure euphoria he just experienced. “amazing is an understatement. it was fan fucking tastic” you let out a laugh at his pure honesty, a comfortable silence settling in the room.

he pulls you in by your waist, positioning you so your back is against his chest, a more comfortable position since your couch is definitely not meant for this. “i had a good time tonight” you can’t help the smile that grows on your face “me too”

as if the universe was against you, a beeping noise cuts through the silence, ending your moment. his pager was going off, they probably needed him back at the hospital, the realization of your jobs hitting you like a truck. “way to ruin the moment” he says getting up to check the pager “I gotta go, i’ll see you at work?” you smile at him nodding. he quickly gets dressed and presses a quick peck to your lips “get some rest” he tells you before rushing out the door to make his way to the hospital.

you can’t help but be a little disappointed. The obligation of your job was one of the many reasons you didn’t date, simply because it didn’t work. why did you expect this to be any different?

you drift off into a slumber, too tired to let your thoughts cloud your mind.

The next morning, the hospital is bustling with the usual chaos as you walk through the corridors towards your office. Despite the busy environment, your mind keeps drifting back to the night before with Jake. The memory of his touch, his kisses, and the intimate conversations you shared fills you with a warm, lingering sense of connection.

As you turn the corner, you see Jake standing near the nurses’ station, discussing a case with a colleague. He looks up and catches your eye, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. There’s a new glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before, a mixture of warmth and mischief.

“Good morning, Dr. Y/L/N,” Jake calls out, his tone playful and a bit louder than necessary, drawing the attention of nearby staff. “Did you sleep well?”

You feel a blush rising but manage to keep your composure. “Good morning, Dr. Sim. I did, thank you. And you?”

“didn’t sleep much, had a lot on my mind,” he replies, his grin widening as he walks over to you. “Must be the excellent company I had last night.”

Several nurses and doctors nearby glance over with curious expressions, but Jake seems unfazed. He stops just a bit too close, his presence commanding your attention. “I was hoping we might catch up over lunch. I’ve been craving some more of those conversations we had.”

You raise an eyebrow, fighting the smile that’s threatening to break through. “Is that so? Well, I’ll have to check my schedule.”

Jake chuckles, leaning in slightly. “You do that. In the meantime, if you need anything at all, you know where to find me.” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, “Or maybe I should say, you know where to call me.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head at his audacity. “I’ll keep that in mind, Dr. Sim.”

He winks at you before stepping back, returning to his conversation with the colleague but not without a lingering glance over his shoulder.

Throughout the morning, you find yourself running into Jake more often than usual. Each time, he manages to throw in a playful comment or a flirty remark, making it clear that last night’s intimacy has only fueled his interest.

In the break room, you’re pouring a cup of coffee when Jake slips in beside you. “we meet again,” he says, his tone light. “I was just thinking about how good you look in scrubs.”

You roll your eyes but smile, feeling a flutter of excitement. “Really? I’m sure you say that to all the doctors.”

“Only the ones who make a lasting impression,” he replies smoothly, his eyes sparkling with genuine admiration.

Later, while reviewing patient charts at your desk, you receive a text from Jake. It’s a picture of a heart drawn on a napkin, with a message: “Couldn’t help but think of you during rounds.”

You can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face. It’s clear that Jake’s flirting isn’t just a passing fancy; there’s a genuine interest and warmth behind his actions that makes your heart skip a beat.

Weeks turn into months, and your relationship with Jake settles into a comfortable, intimate rhythm. Without any formal labels, your connection grows deeper, rooted in shared moments and unspoken understandings. Lunches in the cafeteria become a regular occurrence, interspersed with stolen glances across the OR and late-night encounters that leave you breathless and wanting more.

You find yourself looking forward to these moments, the thrill of sneaking around adding a layer of excitement. During shifts, Jake’s flirtatious comments become a highlight of your day.

One afternoon, you’re in the break room, reviewing patient charts when Jake walks in, his usual confident stride and easy smile making your heart skip a beat. He leans against the counter, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Hey, beautiful. Busy?” he asks, his voice a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Always,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the turmoil in your chest.

Jake walks over, his presence commanding your attention. “You look like you could use a break. How about a coffee?”

You glance at the clock, knowing you have a few minutes to spare. “Sure, why not?”

As you walk to the “coffee shop” side by side, jake quickly takes a glance around to make sure no one is watching and pulls you into the on-call room, the tension between you palpable, you can’t help but feel the thrill of anticipation. The moment the door closes behind you, Jake’s hands are on your waist, pulling you close. His lips find yours in a kiss that’s both urgent and tender, a mix of passion and familiarity that leaves you breathless.

“You’ve been on my mind all day,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands roaming over your back.

“you pulled me away for this?” you let out a slight chuckle. “mhm want you so bad” his lips move down to your neck “jake we’re at work.”

your eyes shut closed, enjoying the feeling of his soft, plump lips on that sweet spot behind you ear that he always found instantly. “doors locked, no one’s coming in here” he mutters out.

you give in, your hands immediately going to his pants and undoing the tie on his scrub bottoms. “well in that case, I wanna suck your cock” you whispered, lowering down into your knees in front of him. Jake's eyes widened in surprise, but then he grinned.

"Fuck, yeah," he said, dropping his pants and boxers. His cock was hard and thick, the tip already glistening with precum, your heart pounding with excitement.

you reached out and wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking it gently. Jake groaned and closed his eyes, his head thrown back. you leaned forward and licked the tip of his cock, tasting the salty precum. Jake's groan grew louder as you opened your mouth and took him in, lips sliding down his veiny shaft.

you started to suck, head bobbing up and down as youworked his cock. Jake's hands were in yoir hair, guiding you as you sucked him off. you could feel his cock throbbing in your mouth, his balls tightening as he got closer to cumming.

"yeah, baby," Jake groaned, his hips thrusting forward as he fucked your mouth. "You're gonna make me cum so hard."

You moan around his cock, the sound vibrating through his shaft. You could feel his cock twitching in yourmouth, his balls tightening even more. you continued faster, fingers digging into his thighs as you worked him.

Jake's groans grew louder, his thrusts more urgent. you could feel his cock swelling, his precum flowing freely. you sucked harder, cheeks hollowing as your mouth got him to his release.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," Jake groaned, his hips bucking as he came hard in your mouth. You swallowed, throat working as you took every drop of his cum. Jake's hands were in you hair, holding your head as he came, his hips still thrusting as he emptied himself into your mouth.

When he was done, you pulled back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Jake's cock was still hard, but it was starting to soften. You stood up, smiling at him.

"Did you like that?" you asked, voice soft and seductive. Jake grinned, his eyes still glazed with pleasure.

"I loved it," he said, pulling you into a kiss. "That was amazing."

As the weeks went on, you and Jake continued the little rhythm you had set in place. He flirted with you every chance he got. The both of you ending up in each others beds more often than not.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day at the hospital, you’re sitting in your apartment, staring blankly at the schedule in front of you. Your mind keeps drifting back to Jake—the way he looked at you during lunch, the warmth of his hand on your back as he guided you through the crowded cafeteria. The realization hits you like a tidal wave: you’re falling for him. Hard.

It terrifies you.

You’ve always prided yourself on being focused, dedicated, and in control of your emotions. But with Jake, everything feels different. The boundaries you set for yourself are blurring, and you’re not sure if you can handle the implications.

The demands of your job loom heavily over you. The long hours, the constant pressure, and the emotional toll of the medical field leave little room for anything else. As you stare at the schedule for the coming weeks, packed with surgeries and patient consultations, the reality sinks in: maintaining a relationship would be nearly impossible. The thought of trying to juggle your career and a growing emotional commitment to Jake feels overwhelming. After much soul-searching, you come to a difficult conclusion. It’s not fair to him or to yourself to continue something you can’t fully sustain. With a heavy heart, you decide it’s best to end things, believing that stepping back is the only way to preserve the little balance in your life.

The next day, you’re in the break room, trying to focus on patient charts when Jake walks in. He greets you with his usual easy smile, his eyes lighting up when he sees you.

“Hey, what are you up to?” he asks, his voice a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine.

“just charting, the usual,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the turmoil in your chest.

Jake walks over, his presence commanding your attention. “You wanna step away for a bit and grab lunch with me?”

You hesitate, the words on the tip of your tongue. You want to say yes, but the fear of what it might mean if you keep going down this path holds you back. “Actually, I have a lot to catch up on. Maybe another time.”

Jake’s brow furrows, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “Everything okay?”

You force a smile, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed with work.”

He doesn’t push, but you can see the worry in his eyes as he nods and leaves you to your charts.

Over the next few days, you start to pull back, keeping your interactions with Jake strictly professional. You avoid the on-call room, decline his offers for lunch, and keep your conversations short and to the point. It’s not easy, and you can see the confusion and hurt in his eyes every time you brush him off.

One evening, you’re leaving the hospital when you run into Jake in the parking lot. He’s leaning against his car, arms crossed, his expression serious.

“Y/N, can we talk?” he asks, his voice a mix of frustration and concern.

You nod, knowing you can’t avoid this conversation forever. “Sure.”

He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. “What’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me, and I don’t understand why. Did I do something wrong?”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. “No, Jake, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just… I’ve been thinking a lot about us. About what we’re doing.”

Jake’s expression softens, and he steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. “Talk to me, Y/N. What’s going on?”

You shift uncomfortably, feeling the weight of your decision pressing down on you. “I’ve realized that I can’t keep up with a relationship right now. Our jobs are so demanding, and I’m constantly running on empty. I don’t think I can give you the attention and commitment you deserve.”

Jake’s expression shifts from confusion to hurt. “Y/N, I thought we were making this work. Why now? What changed?”

You struggle to keep your voice steady, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “It’s not about you. It’s about me and my inability to balance everything. I’ve been trying to make it work, but I can’t keep up with both my job and a relationship. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Jake’s eyes drop to the floor, and he takes a deep breath, trying to process what you’ve said. “So, this is it? You’re just… ending things? before they even started?”

You nod, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “I think it’s best. I care about you a lot, but right now, I can’t handle more than what I’ve got.”

Jake remains silent for a moment, then looks back at you with a pained expression. “I get it, Y/N. If this is what you need, then I respect your decision. But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

You reach out, touching his arm gently. “I’m so sorry, Jake. This isn’t what I wanted, but I need to focus on my career right now. I hope you understand.”

He nods, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and acceptance. “Yeah, I understand. It doesn’t make it any less painful, but I get it.”

As you turn to leave, you feel a deep ache in your chest, knowing that you’ve made the right decision for yourself, but also feeling the weight of the loss. The break room seems colder now, and the empty space where Jake used to stand feels like a gaping hole in your heart.

Adjusting to life without Jake is more challenging than you anticipated. The hospital, once a place of shared glances and flirtatious banter, now feels strangely empty. The absence of his smile, his reassuring presence, and the warmth of his touch leaves a void that’s hard to ignore.

At work, you focus intently on your patients and your responsibilities, but the familiar routine feels different. The small moments that once brought you joy—a playful comment during a surgery, a quick coffee break together—are now replaced with an uncomfortable silence. Conversations with Jake are limited to work-related topics, and every interaction is laced with a professional distance that feels foreign and awkward.

In the OR, you work side by side, your focus on the patient and the procedure. Jake’s skill and calm demeanor are still impressive, and you find yourself appreciating his expertise even more now. But the casual camaraderie you once enjoyed is gone, replaced by a formality that feels both stifling and isolating.

During breaks, you find yourself missing the easy conversations you used to have with him. You used to share small victories and frustrations, but now those moments are spent in solitude or with other colleagues who don’t quite fill the gap Jake left behind.

Despite your best efforts to maintain your composure, you can’t help but feel the pangs of loneliness. Your personal life remains focused solely on work, and the connection you once had with Jake seems like a distant memory. You remind yourself why you made the decision, focusing on the demanding nature of your job and the need for balance.

Gradually, you begin to adjust, finding solace in the routine of your work and the support of your colleagues. The initial pain of Jake’s absence dulls over time, replaced by a newfound focus on your career and a deeper understanding of your own needs. Though the void remains, you learn to navigate your days with a renewed sense of purpose and dedication.

You’re passing through the hospital lobby, your mind preoccupied with patient charts, when you spot Jake standing near the information desk. He’s engaged in a conversation with Dr. Choi Miyeon, the oncology attending. Your steps slow involuntarily as you notice the easy laughter between them.

Jake’s smile is wide and genuine, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that once made your heart flutter. But today, the sight of that smile, directed at someone else, sends a pang of jealousy through you. Dr. Choi, with her poised demeanor and confident air, seems to be enjoying his attention, and the familiarity between them feels almost too intimate.

You try to focus on your task, but your gaze keeps drifting back to the two of them. Jake’s hand gestures animatedly as he talks, his face lighting up in a way that you haven’t seen directed at you in weeks. Dr. Choi’s laughter is soft and melodic, and she tilts her head slightly, clearly engaged in the conversation.

The sight of Jake looking so at ease with someone else brings an unexpected rush of emotion. You find yourself clenching your jaw, trying to ignore the gnawing sense of loss that accompanies the jealousy. It’s a reminder of the connection you once shared and the void left behind by your decision.

You force yourself to look away, turning back to your work with a renewed determination to focus on your patients. But the image of Jake’s smile and the easy rapport he shares with Dr. Choi lingers in your mind, leaving you with a mixture of regret and longing that’s hard to shake.

As you continue with your tasks, the memory of Jake’s interaction with Dr. Choi lingers, clouding your focus. Every time you glance up from your charts or interact with colleagues, your thoughts drift back to that moment in the lobby.

In the break room later that day, you catch sight of Jake entering, still visibly animated from his conversation with Dr. Choi. He looks up and sees you, his face lighting up with that same welcoming smile that used to be exclusively for you. The sight of it only intensifies the pang of jealousy you felt earlier.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jake says, approaching you with his usual warmth.

“Hi, Jake,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. You make a deliberate effort to maintain your professional composure, avoiding any mention of the earlier encounter.

Jake seems to sense a change in your demeanor but doesn’t press. Instead, he casually starts discussing the upcoming surgery, his tone light and engaging. You nod along, responding with the necessary professionalism, but your mind is elsewhere. You keep picturing him with Dr. Choi, the way they interacted so naturally, and it’s hard to ignore the twinge of regret.

As you wrap up the conversation and head to your next task, you can’t help but feel a deepening sense of frustration. The realization that you still care about Jake more than you initially admitted weighs heavily on you. The professional distance you’ve maintained seems more like a barrier than a solution, and the void he left behind is harder to ignore than you thought.

Later that evening, as you drive home, you replay the scene in your mind, questioning your decision. You wonder if stepping back from Jake was truly the right choice, or if you were merely trying to shield yourself from the possibility of a meaningful connection. The jealousy you felt is a clear sign of unresolved feelings, and it becomes evident that the emotional aftermath of ending things is more complex than you anticipated.

By the time you reach your apartment, you’re left grappling with the realization that you might have made a mistake. The lingering image of Jake’s smile, coupled with the undeniable ache in your chest, leaves you pondering whether there’s a way to reconcile your fears with the genuine affection you still feel for him.

But it would be utterly selfish of you to go running back to him when he’s seemingly started to move on. This was all your doing after all. He had every right to find what you couldn’t give him in someone else.

The ache in your chest refuses to fade. The image of Jake smiling at Dr. Choi replays in your mind like a loop, and the jealousy you felt transforms into a deeper, more introspective turmoil. You sit in your apartment, the stillness of the room amplifying the thoughts racing through your head.

You replay the conversations and moments you shared with Jake, recalling the comfort and joy he brought into your life. The connection you had felt real and profound, and now that it’s gone, the void seems more pronounced than you expected. The professional distance you’ve maintained does little to mitigate the lingering emotional impact, and the space between you feels even more significant.

The next day, you find yourself in the hospital, struggling to maintain the professional facade you’ve carefully constructed. Every interaction with Jake, though polite and necessary, feels strained and awkward. You avoid his gaze when you can, focusing solely on your patients and tasks, but the undercurrent of unresolved feelings remains.

During a particularly intense surgery, Jake is once again by your side, and the familiarity of working with him brings back a rush of memories. His presence, though professional, is comforting, and you find yourself drawn to him despite your earlier resolve. As you work together seamlessly, the shared glances and brief touches become almost impossible to ignore, reigniting a flicker of the intimacy you once had.

After the surgery, you’re in the on-call room, trying to catch your breath and clear your mind. Jake enters, a small smile playing on his lips, and for a moment, the professional barrier you’ve erected feels flimsy. He approaches you, his tone soft but playful.

“Everything okay, Y/N? You seem a bit distracted today.”

You look up, meeting his gaze. His concern and warmth are genuine, and it only adds to the confusion you’re feeling. “Just a lot on my mind,” you admit, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing.”

Jake’s eyes linger on you, a hint of frustration and worry evident. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

His words cut through the walls you’ve built, and for a moment, you allow yourself to consider what you’ve been missing. The idea of opening up to Jake, of sharing your fears and feelings, feels both daunting and inviting.

As the day goes on, you grapple with the decision to reach out to him. The barriers you’ve erected are crumbling, and you realize that avoiding Jake might not be the solution you hoped for. Instead, you begin to consider whether there’s a way to address your fears and find a balance between your demanding career and a meaningful relationship.

The thought of reaching out to Jake, of possibly reconciling your emotions with the connection you still feel, starts to take shape. It’s a daunting step, but one that feels increasingly necessary as you navigate the complexities of your feelings and the emptiness left by his absence.

The days following your realization feel like a mix of regret and self-reproach. You can’t ignore the growing sense of remorse over ending things with Jake. The emptiness left by his absence is more acute than you anticipated, and the thought of missing out on something meaningful drives you to act.

One evening, determined to make things right, you head to Jake’s apartment, hoping to talk things through. Your heart races as you reach his door, and you take a deep breath before knocking.

After a moment, the door opens, and your heart sinks when you see Dr. Choi Miyeon standing there. Her presence immediately sends a wave of jealousy and discomfort through you.

“Doctor Y/L/N?” Miyeon says, her tone a mix of surprise and curiosity.

You stand frozen for a moment, the sight of her at Jake’s door intensifying your doubts. “Doctor Choi,” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady.

Miyeon’s expression shifts to one of mild confusion. “Did you need something?”

The thought of Jake being with Miyeon, combined with the realization that you’re intruding on what feels like an intimate moment, makes your decision for you. The hurt and uncertainty you’ve been feeling come to a head, and you realize you’re not ready to face him under these circumstances.

“I uh actually I’ll come at a better time”. Without another word, you turn and walk away from the door, your heart heavy with a mix of regret and frustration. You can hear Miyeon’s voice calling after you, but you don’t stop. The realization that you’ve arrived at the wrong moment only deepens the sense of regret.

As you leave the building, the cool night air hits your face, offering a brief respite from the emotional storm you’re navigating. You’re left grappling with the decision to return, to try again, or to accept the possibility that you might have missed your chance. The weight of the encounter with Miyeon only adds to the complexity of your feelings, leaving you to ponder your next steps in the solitude of the evening.

The following days are a haze of frustration and introspection. Seeing Miyeon at Jake's apartment made you feel even more disconnected from him. At work, maintaining your professional facade becomes more difficult as your emotions threaten to overwhelm you.

One morning, you’re at your locker, preparing for your shift, when Olivia walks in, her usual cheerful demeanor tempered by concern. “Hey, Y/N, you okay? You seem a bit off lately.”

You force a smile, trying to mask your turmoil. “Just a lot on my mind, Olivia. Thanks for asking.”

She nods sympathetically. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here. We all have rough patches.”

You thank her and head to the OR, trying to push your thoughts aside. But every encounter with Jake is a reminder of what you’ve lost. You see him in the corridors, in meetings, and every interaction is laced with a painful awareness of the distance between you.

One afternoon, you’re in the middle of reviewing patient files when Jake approaches you. His expression is neutral, but there’s an underlying tension in his eyes. “Y/N, can we talk?”

You nod, setting your files aside. “Sure, what’s up?”

He leads you to a quieter corner of the hospital. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the other night. I saw you at my apartment, and then you just… left. What happened?”

You take a deep breath, the memory of that evening still fresh and painful. “I came to talk to you, to explain that I made a mistake in ending things. But when I saw Miyeon, I realized I couldn’t do it.”

Jake’s expression softens, a mix of understanding and frustration in his eyes. “Miyeon and I were just going over some research. There’s nothing between us, Y/N. But I get why you’d feel that way.”

The weight of your regret feels heavier now, knowing you misinterpreted the situation. “I’m sorry, Jake. I’ve been struggling with everything, and seeing you with her just… hurt. I felt like I’d already lost you.”

He steps closer, his voice gentle but firm. “You haven’t lost me, Y/N. I care about you. But we need to figure out what we’re doing here. This back and forth isn’t good for either of us.”

You nod, feeling the weight of your emotions. “I know. I’ve been scared, Jake. Scared that our jobs would make it impossible to have a real relationship. But I realize now that pushing you away was a mistake.”

Jake’s gaze softens, and he reaches out to gently take your hand. “We can make this work if we both want it, Y/N. But we have to be honest with each other, and we have to be willing to try.”

You squeeze his hand, a sense of relief washing over you. “I do want to try, Jake. I want us to work.”

He smiles, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Then let’s take it one step at a time. We’ll figure this out together.”

As you stand there, hand in hand, you feel a renewed sense of hope. The road ahead won’t be easy, but the thought of facing it with Jake by your side makes it seem possible. For the first time in weeks, you feel like you’re on the right path, ready to face whatever challenges come your way.

The days following your night with Jake are a blend of professional decorum and personal confusion. You both agreed to take things one step at a time, but it's hard to ignore the magnetic pull between you. At work, Jake is as focused and brilliant as ever, but there’s an added layer of warmth in his interactions with you, a silent acknowledgment of what you share.

One afternoon, you find yourself in the break room, sipping coffee and going over department paperwork . Jake walks in, his eyes lighting up when he sees you.

"Hey, Y/N," he says, his tone casual but with an underlying hint of playfulness. "How’s your day going?"

You look up, trying to suppress a smile. "Busy as usual. Just finished a tricky valve replacement."

Jake nods, moving closer. "I heard. You did a great job."

You feel a flutter in your chest at his praise. "Thanks, Jake. How about you? Any groundbreaking surgeries today?"

He chuckles, leaning against the counter. "Just the usual brain stuff. Nothing too exciting." He pauses, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, dinner tonight? My place?"

You glance around to make sure no one is within earshot. "Are you asking me out, Dr. Sim?"

Jake’s grin widens. "Maybe I am, Dr. Y/L/N. What do you say?"

You pretend to ponder, then nod. "Alright. Dinner sounds good."

The evening arrives, and Jake picks you up from your house. He’s dressed casually but still looks incredibly handsome. The drive to his place is filled with light conversation and laughter, easing any lingering tension.

Once inside his apartment, you feel a sense of familiarity and comfort. Jake leads you to the living room, where he’s set up a cozy dinner with candles and soft music playing in the background.

"This looks amazing," you say, genuinely touched by the effort he’s put in.

Jake shrugs modestly. "I wanted to do something special."

The dinner is delicious, and the conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about your families, past relationships, and the challenges of balancing demanding careers with personal lives. As the night progresses, you feel the barriers between you dissolving.

After dinner, you move to the couch, a glass of wine in hand. The atmosphere is relaxed, and there’s a growing sense of intimacy.

"Tell me more about your family," Jake says, his voice soft and curious.

You take a sip of wine, thinking about your parents and your brother. "Well, my parents are both retired now. My mom was a nurse, and my dad was a teacher. My older brother is a lawyer. We’re close, even if we don’t see each other often."

Jake listens intently, nodding. "Sounds like a solid family. Mine’s a bit scattered. Parents divorced when I was young, so I spent a lot of time between Australia and the States. I have a younger sister who’s an artist. She’s currently exploring Europe."

The conversation continues, each revelation bringing you closer. You talk about your past relationships, the heartbreaks and lessons learned. There’s a vulnerability in the exchange, a mutual understanding of the complexities of your lives.

As the night deepens, you find yourself leaning closer to Jake, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. He reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Y/N," he says softly, his eyes locking onto yours. "I really care about you. I want this to work, despite the challenges."

You feel a rush of emotions, the sincerity in his words touching you deeply. "I care about you too, Jake. I want us to work."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. The kiss deepens, your bodies pressing closer together. The desire that has been simmering between you ignites, and you find yourself losing track of time as you explore the depths of your connection.

You found yourself crossing the room to stand in front of him, heart pounding in your chest. You'd reached out, hesitantly, and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. And when he'd looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, you knew that you couldn't resist any longer.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was both gentle and passionate. He'd responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close. And as you kissed, you felt a surge of desire coursing through your veins.

You pulled back, just enough to look into his eyes. "Jake," you whispered, voice husky with longing.

"Yeah, baby?" he'd replied, his voice low and rough.

And then you stripped, slowly and deliberately, letting him watch as you revealed her body to him. You’d seen the heat in his eyes as he'd taken in the sight of you, and you knew that you had him.

You moved closer, pressing your naked body against his clothed one. You reached down, unbuttoning his pants and freeing his hard cock, dropping to your knees, taking him into your mouth and sucking him deep.

He'd groaned, his hands tangling into your hair as you worked magic on him. “s-shit baby, taking me so good, that’s it” you sucked and licked and teased, driving him wild with pleasure. when you felt him on the brink, you pulled back, smiling up at him.

"Fuck me, Jake," you commanded, voice husky with desire.

He'd obeyed, lifting you up and carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, spreading your legs wide and burying his face between them. You cried out as he licked and sucked your clit, bringing you to the brink of orgasm.

And then he entered you, driving deep and hard. Your wrapped her legs around him, meeting him thrust for thrust as you made love. It had been passionate and intense, a connection that went beyond the physical and was different from the previous times you had indulged in each other’s bodies.

when you finally reached your peak, collapsing in a tangle of limbs, you knew that you made the right decision. You finally acted on your attraction, and in doing so, you found a deeper connection with Jake.

You both lie there, still engulfed in the bliss of this newfound feeling between the two of you. He can’t help what he says next, feeling as if keeping it in was impossible. “i love you Y/N”.

you snap your neck in his direction, maybe it’s the post orgasm haze but you search for reassurance anyways.

His big brown eyes confirming his words. “I love you too jake”.

The next morning, you wake up in Jake’s arms, the sunlight filtering through the curtains. He stirs beside you, his sleepy smile a welcome sight.

"Good morning," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

"Good morning," you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you.

As you lie there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside seems distant and unimportant. In this moment, you feel a sense of peace and certainty. Whatever challenges lie ahead, you know you can face them together.

At the hospital, the dynamic between you and Jake shifts subtly but unmistakably. The stolen glances, the brief touches, the shared smiles—all are infused with a new depth of intimacy. Your colleagues notice, but no one comments, respecting the unspoken bond you share.

In the weeks that follow, the relationship deepens. You navigate the challenges of your demanding careers, finding solace and strength in each other. The on-call rooms become your private sanctuaries, the moments of stolen kisses and whispered confessions a lifeline in the chaos of the hospital.

One evening, after a particularly grueling shift, you find Jake waiting for you in the parking lot. His presence, as always, is a balm to your weary soul.

"Hey, pretty" he says, pulling you into a hug. "How was your day?"

"Tough," you admit, resting your head against his chest. "But it's better now."

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. "Come on, let's go home."

As you drive back to his place, the city lights blurring into a comforting glow, you realize just how much Jake has come to mean to you. The fears and doubts that once plagued you have faded, replaced by a certainty that you can face anything as long as you're together.

Back at his apartment, you settle into a comfortable routine, cooking dinner together and sharing stories about your day. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and affectionate touches.

After dinner, you move to the couch, your bodies naturally gravitating towards each other. Jake pulls you into his lap, his hands resting on your hips as he looks into your eyes.

"Y/N," he says softly, his voice filled with emotion. "I know we've had our challenges, but I want you to know that I'm all in. I want to be with you, no matter what."

Your heart swells with love and gratitude. "I feel the same way, Jake. I want us to be together, through everything."

He smiles, his eyes shining with affection. "Good. Because I can't imagine my life without you."

You lean in, capturing his lips in a slow, tender kiss. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms.

As the night wears on, you find yourself reflecting on the journey you've been on together. From the initial tension and uncertainty to the deep, abiding love you now share, it's been a rollercoaster of emotions. But through it all, you've found something rare and precious: a connection that transcends the challenges of your demanding careers, a love that grows stronger with each passing day.

and as you fall asleep in Jake's arms, you know that whatever the future holds, you'll face it together, hand in hand.

taglist: @hyunjinheartbreakprince @jaehoonii @enhaslxt @sumzysworld @justalittle-hee @seunghancore @curiousgworge @blockbusterhee @ribbioniki @chocolate-scoups @ineedsomezzz @theonewithouttheuwus @rairaiblog @chansloverr @armycarat2612 @slutforjaeyun @lovingvoidgoatee @jjklvr9 @fertilizedtoesw @ikeuverse @yohanseyebrowmole @mysticalenchantress @hchoes @en-gine @jakesbbygirl @miszes @simpjay @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @vveebee

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wonsiwon · 29 days ago

Text

rebirth | s.jy

synopsis | after years of fighting and growing apart, your relationship with jake is hanging by a thread. you’ve tried to fix things, but it’s always been one step forward, two steps back. what you’d didn’t expect was that having a baby could be the thing that gives you a real chance at starting over.

pairing | boyfriend! jake x fem! reader

content warning | smut (mdni) + reconciliation + angst + fluff if you squint + unprotected sex + swearing + pregnancy mention

the car was dead silent. you sat there, seething, arms crossed tightly across your chest, staring out the window as the city blurred by. the same damn argument again. you could feel the heat of anger still crawling through your veins.

jake sat next to you, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping him from losing his shit. his eyes stayed glued to the road, mouth set in a hard line. he hadn’t said a word in at least ten minutes, and at this point, you weren’t sure if he was waiting for you to cool down or just hoping you’d both drop it.

you hated how this always went down. he’d come home late, every time the same excuses, the same apologies that felt like nothing more than words he was saying because he thought he had to. you didn’t know how many times you had to tell him that actions spoke louder than apologies, but he never seemed to hear it.

the worst part was how long it had been since the two of you had spent any real time together. you couldn’t even remember the last time you were happy together, without ending up arguing.

you hated this. hated feeling like the last thing he cared about. but you weren’t sure if he even realized how deep this ran for you. instead, you were here, heading to his mom’s, like everything was fine, like you weren’t both completely pissed at each other. the silence was killing you both.

this morning, you both had woken up calm, but as soon as jake told you to get ready to see his mom, everything shifted. you weren’t angry about visiting her, you were angry because he was so casual about it, like nothing had happened. like last night’s argument didn’t exist. like you hadn’t gone to bed fuming and he hadn’t fallen asleep with his back turned to you.

you weren’t against seeing his mom, but the way he said it so nonchalantly, as if everything was fine, made your blood boil. it wasn’t fine. nothing was fine.

jake slowed the car, pulling into the driveway. you could see his mom’s car parked out front, the same way it always was when she was home and could hear the muffled sound of dogs barking from the neighborhood.

the car stopped, but neither of you moved. you both just sat there.

jake finally exhaled, dropping his head back against the seat. “are you still mad?”

you ignored him, twisting in your seat to check the back. your brows furrowed, eyes scanning the floor before you turned back to him. “where’s the bag?”

jake blinked at you, clearly not following. “what bag?”

you shut your eyes for a second, already feeling your blood pressure spike. “the pink plastic bag for your mom, sim jaeyun. i told you to grab it before we left.”

jake frowned, shaking his head. “no, you didn’t.”

your fingers dug into your arms. “yes, i fucking did. it was on the counter. i literally told you right before we walked out the door.”

jake leaned back in his seat, rubbing his forehead. “well, i don’t remember that. if you told me, i would’ve grabbed it.”

you let out a short laugh, but it wasn’t amused at all. “are you serious? you never listen! like ever!”

jake let out a slow, pissed-off breath. “jesus christ, it’s a fucking plastic bag.”

you turned to him so fast he actually blinked. “it’s not about the bag, dumbass! it’s about the fact that you don’t fucking listen to me. ever. i ask you to do one simple thing, and somehow, it’s too much.”

jake scoffed, shaking his head. “oh my god. here we fucking go.” he unbuckled his seatbelt like he was about to get out, but your patience was officially gone and you threw open the car door before so hard it bounced a little.

“forget it.”

jake let out a heavy sigh, trying to keep himself from saying something worse. you didn’t wait for a response, you slammed the door shut and started walking toward the house. the cold air hit you, but it wasn’t enough to cool the anger simmering under your skin.

behind you, you heard his door open and shut, his footsteps following, but you didn’t slow down.

“are we seriously doing this right now?” jake’s voice was low, frustrated, but not loud enough for anyone inside to hear.

you didn’t answer. you just kept walking.

“jesus christ.” he muttered under his breath, picking up his pace until he was right beside you. “you’re really gonna act like this over a fucking bag? it’s like i forgot your birthday or something. it was a plastic bag.”

that made you stop. you turned on him so fast he actually took a step back.

“stop saying it’s about the fucking bag, jake,” you snapped, your voice sharp but still quiet enough to not cause a scene. “it’s about the fact that you don’t listen. you never listen. and then you act like i’m crazy for being mad about it.”

jake ran a hand through his hair, exhaling, trying to stay patient. “i don’t freaking do it on purpose—”

“but you do it.” you cut in. “over and over.”

for a second, he didn’t say anything. just stood there, looking at you, jaw tight. then, he shook his head and scoffed, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “whatever. i don’t have the energy for this right now.”

you let out a humorless laugh. “yeah? neither do i.”

you turned and walked up the steps, ringing the doorbell before he could say anything else. jake stayed behind you, silent now, probably trying to pull himself together before facing his mom.

the door swung open, and like muscle memory, you forced a smile. it wasn’t real, not even close, but at this point, you were on autopilot. just going through the motions, pretending everything was fine when it really fucking wasn’t.

jake’s mom beamed, her usual warm energy filling the doorway. “well, look who finally showed up!” she said, hands on her hips. “i was starting to think you two forgot about me.”

you forced a smile, stepping inside. “of course not.” you said as you hugged her briefly.

jake leaned down, wrapping an arm around his mom’s shoulders. “hey, mama,” he said, his voice noticeably softer than it had been with you all day.

his mom squeezed him, pulling back with a smile. “it’s so good to see you, jake. you’re looking well.”

he exhaled. “traffic was bad.”

she waved a hand like she didn’t care. “as long as you’re here now. come on in, i made plenty of food.”

jake’s mom, bless her heart, had already prepared for this visit. the whole house smelled like her cooking, and there was a soft hum of background music coming from somewhere in the kitchen.

jake’s mom set down a plate in front of you before taking a seat across the table. “so, how have you been handling everything at home?” she asked, giving you a knowing look.

you glanced at jake for a split second before forcing a small smile. “it’s been fine. same old, you know.”

she hummed, cutting into her food. “jake tells me he’s been working late a lot.”

you let out a small, dry laugh. “yeah, you could say that.”

jake glanced at you, but you ignored him, taking a sip of your drink instead.

his mom sighed, shaking her head. “that boy works too much. i keep telling him he needs to slow down before he burns himself out.”

you set your glass down. “i’ve tried telling him the same thing, but he doesn’t listen to me either.”

his mom nodded, giving jake a pointed look. “i just don’t want you to overdo it, honey. you’re working all the time, and you’re not getting any younger.”

jake exhaled through his nose, already over this conversation. “i’m fine, mom.”

but she wasn’t done. “you know, speaking of…” she said, tilting her head slightly, “when are you two going to give me a grandbaby?”

jake choked on his drink, coughing into his sleeve. you froze for half a second before blinking.

his mom just grinned. “i mean, i’d love to spoil a little one before i’m too old to chase after them.”

jake dragged a hand down his face. “mom—”

“what?” she said, all innocent. “it’s a fair question.”

jake barely reacted at first, just sat there with his hands on his lap, slouched in his seat. but then, as his mom kept talking, he glanced at you. it wasn’t much, just a quick look, like he was expecting you to roll your eyes or shake your head, the same way you did whenever his mom brought up something ridiculous.

but you didn’t.

you just sat there, eyes fixed on your plate, quiet. and something about the way you looked, not pissed, not annoyed. in your eyes there was something different in them, something softer. a little flicker, a kind of sparkle he couldn’t quite place.

had you thought about it before?

that was a stupid question. obviously, you had. but had you thought about it with him?

he barely heard what his mom was saying anymore, his focus entirely on you. his fingers twitched slightly against his thigh.

you must’ve felt him staring because you finally turned your head, locking eyes with him. for a moment, neither of you spoke.

your brow lifted slightly and jake blinked looking away fast. he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “mom, can we just eat?”

his mom laughed, shaking her head. “alright, alright. i’ll let it go.”

but jake wasn’t sure if he could.

dinner went on, conversation moving to his mom’s garden, some neighbor’s drama, a show she was hooked on. you played along, nodding and laughing where you had to, and so did jake, but his mind was stuck on something else.

that look in your eyes.

jake didn’t know what the fuck to do with that.

by the time dinner wrapped up, you were in the kitchen with jake’s mom, drying dishes while jake stayed at the table, glued to his phone. he hadn’t said much all night, just scrolling through his phone.

his mom handed you another plate and looked over at him. “that boy’s always on that damn phone,” she muttered as she worked. “works too much, too. tells me it’s all just part of the job, but…”

you glanced at jake. he wasn’t even looking up, still absorbed in whatever was on his phone. “yeah, i know,” you said, kind of offhand.

jake’s mom let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “he needs to make more time for other stuff, you know? for you. for… whatever else.”

you just shrugged, drying another plate. “i’ve tried,” you said, quietly.

but jake, even though he looked like he wasn’t paying attention, actually was. he was listening to every word. he kept his face blank, not moving, but his attention was all on you two.

his mom paused, watching you for a second before asking, “how are you, though? really?”

you shrugged, trying to sound fine. “i’m good.”

“i didn’t make you uncomfortable with the baby talk, did i?” she added, quieter now, as she dried her hands.

you quickly shook your head. “nah. no, it’s fine.”

but there it was, the tiny shift in your eyes, just for a second. you weren’t exactly telling her everything, but she saw it. she noticed. she wasn’t going to push, but she was curious.

“have you thought about it?” she asked after a pause.

you hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the dish plate. “maybe…” you admitted quietly. “just… not sure if now is the right time.” with things so messed up with jake, of course it wasn’t.

the thought had crossed your mind. how could it not? every time you saw kids playing outside, every time you passed by a baby section in a store, every time a friend shared pictures of their little ones, you wondered. what would it be like? would it change things? would it fix things? but the reality hit you just as fast as the thought came.

let’s be real, jake hadn’t touched you in what felt like forever. it wasn’t just the lack of intimacy; it was everything that came with it. the distance, the exhaustion in his voice when he got home late, the way he barely looked at you some days. there was a time when he couldn’t keep his hands off you, when just passing each other in the kitchen would turn into something more.

now? now, it was like you were just existing in the same space, nothing more.

“i don’t think i would even be a good mother.” you forced a small smile, trying to brush it off.

jake heard it, loud and clear. his fingers stopped mid-scroll, and his shoulders tensed slightly.

his mom set down the dish towel, frowning. “why would you say that?”

you let out a small laugh, but there was no real humor in it. “i don’t know. i just…” you shrugged.

“oh, sweetheart, you’d be a great mother.” her hand approached your shoulder and left a small squeeze.

you swallowed, gripping the dish plate a little tighter. you smiled a little, but it wasn’t real. she didn’t see the whole picture. how lonely it felt sometimes. how every conversation about spending more time with jake turned into an argument and never went anywhere.

they just ran in circles until you both got too tired to keep going.

jake didn’t say it enough. heck, he barely said it at all anymore, but he thought about you all the time. how you held things together. the way you handled everything working, running the house, dealing with him, even when you probably shouldn’t have to.

and hearing you say that you didn’t think you’d be a good mom? it hit him hard. he wasn’t sure if you knew, but to him, you were everything. if anyone could do it, could be a great mom, it was you. you could handle it. you could handle anything.

but had he ever told you that? had he ever shown you? all the stuff you did, all the sacrifices, and how much he appreciated it?

no, he hadn’t. he realized that now. he hadn’t been there like he should’ve been. the late nights, the ignoring, all the times you tried to reach out and he pulled away. how could you believe him if he’d never shown it? how could you believe anything he said if he didn’t back it up with actions?

the drive home was dead quiet, like always. you weren’t even looking at him, just staring out the window, arms crossed, fingers tapping against your sleeve, like you couldn’t wait to be anywhere but here.

jake kept his eyes on the road, hands gripping the wheel a little too tightly. he wanted to say something, maybe break the silence, but he didn’t even know where to start.

when he pulled into the driveway, you didn’t wait. you unbuckled your seatbelt, got out, and shut the door a little harder than necessary. jake stayed in the car for a second, watching you walk up to the house, before sighing and following.

inside, the only light on was the dim glow from the kitchen. the house felt cold, lifeless, probably because it had been for a while now. you kicked off your shoes, didn’t even glance at him, and headed straight for the bedroom. jake exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face before locking the door behind him.

he wasn’t sure what hurt more, the fights or the distance. but either way, it felt like losing.

jake followed you into the room, standing in the doorway as you began to take off your coat, dropping it onto the chair. his gaze followed you for a moment, the silence between you both heavy, almost suffocating. he didn’t want to press, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.

“why didn’t you tell me?” his voice was low, almost like he was asking himself as much as he was asking you.

you paused, glancing over your shoulder at him, brows furrowing slightly. “about what?” you asked, genuinely confused.

jake pushed off the doorframe, stepping into the room a little more, his gaze not leaving you. “about the kids?”

you sighed, shaking your head as you pulled off your earrings, setting them down on the dresser. “it was just a dumb thought” you muttered, not even looking at him.

jake watched you for a second, his jaw tightening. “didn’t sound dumb to me.”

you let out a small, humorless laugh, finally turning to face him. “yeah? well, it is.” your arms crossed over your chest. “not like it matters anyway.”

his brows furrowed slightly. “why wouldn’t it matter?”

you exhaled, shaking your head. “jake, come on. look at us.” you gestured vaguely between the two of you. “we can barely have a conversation without it turning into an argument. you barely even look at me.” your voice was calm, but there was something tired underneath it.

jake stared at you, his fingers twitching at his sides. he wanted to say something, argue, deny it, tell you it wasn’t dumb. he wanted to tell you that he saw you all the time. that even when he came home exhausted, even when he was distracted, even when things were tense between you, he still saw you. he noticed the way you hummed under your breath when you cooked, the way you pulled your sleeves over your hands when you were tired, the way you always waited up for him even when you pretended you weren’t.

but what did any of that matter if he never said it? if he never showed it?

then, you sighed, rubbing at your temple. “jake, i don’t wanna do this right now.”

you changed into your pajamas and climbed into bed, facing the wall. you could hear the faint sounds of jake moving around in the other room, pacing once or twice before finally settling down somewhere.

minutes passed.

then an hour.

and still, you couldn’t sleep.

“how would you name them?”

you blinked, staring at the ceiling. for a second, you thought you imagined it. jake’s voice was quiet, coming from your side. you hadn’t even heard him lay next to you.

you turned slightly, just enough to glance at him. his head was already turned looking at you, his expression unreadable.

“what?” you asked, your voice softer than before.

he exhaled through his nose, shifting his stance. “if we had kids.” he paused before speaking again. “how would you name them?”

your fingers curled slightly into the blanket. you weren’t sure if he was asking just to ask or if this actually meant something to him.

you swallowed, then looked away. “i don’t know.” jake didn’t push, but he didn’t drop the conversation either. neither did you. “…maybe something classic. nothing too complicated.”

jake nodded slightly, like he was thinking about it. “like what?”

you hesitated, then shrugged. “i always liked names like—” you stopped, suddenly self-conscious.

jake tilted his head slightly. “like what?”

“i don’t know. maybe something that lookalike our names or—” you hesitated again, then shook your head. “it’s stupid.”

jake shook his head once. “hey it’s not stupid.” he was watching you, with something different in his eyes now. something quieter, something softer.

you glanced at him, then quickly looked away. “yeah.”

a beat of silence.

“what about a girl?”

you exhaled, staring up at the ceiling. “why are you asking me this?”

“i don’t know,” he admitted. “i just… want to know.”

the room felt heavier now, but not in the way it usually did after a fight. this wasn’t resentment or frustration hanging in the air, it was something else. something uncertain.

you shifted on the bed, pulling your knees up slightly, resting your arms over them. “it doesn’t matter. it’s not like we—” you stopped yourself, shaking your head. “never mind.”

jake didn’t let it go. “not like we what?”

you sighed, looking down at your hands. “not like we’re in the place to even think about that.”

“why not?”

you could feel the weight of his stare, the way he was waiting, pressing for an answer. you swallowed hard. “jake,” you started, your voice almost flat, like you were forcing yourself to say it. “we don’t even kiss anymore.”

“can i kiss you right now then?”

your stomach dropped. you weren’t expecting that, not so direct, not so steady. his voice was low, but there was no hesitation in it. he wasn’t teasing, wasn’t playing around. he was serious.

you blinked at him, feeling suddenly too aware of how close he was. you could see the way his fingers curled slightly against his knee, the way his breathing was just a little heavier than before.

“i’m just going to bed, jake,” you said quickly, your voice tight. you turned away, trying to put space between you, but before you could lie down, his hand wrapped around your wrist.

“come here,” he muttered, pulling you back toward him.

you let out a quiet, startled breath as you shifted, and suddenly, he was closer, closer than he had been in a long time. his grip wasn’t rough, but it was firm, keeping you right in front of him. his face was inches from yours now, his eyes locked onto yours, watching your every move.

your breath hitched. his hand was still around your wrist, his fingers warm against your skin. you could feel how steady he was, how he wasn’t rushing, just holding you there, watching you.

“jake…” you started, but your voice was barely above a whisper. you didn’t even know what you were trying to say.

he didn’t say anything. he just let go of your wrist, his hand trailing down slowly, his fingers barely grazing against your palm before resting on your thigh. his touch was warm, grounding, but not hesitant. he was waiting.

you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. his face was so close now, his breath mixing with yours, warm and slow. you could see everything, the way his lips parted slightly, the way his eyes flickered down to your mouth for just a second before coming back up.

a shaky exhale slipped past your lips. you weren’t even sure if you meant to do it, but it filled the silence, made it feel more real.

then, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it, he asked again, “can i kiss you?”

you inhaled sharply, but before you could answer, he moved. his hand slid up your thigh, slow enough that it sent a shiver through you, stopping at your waist as he pulled you even closer. you barely had time to react before his lips brushed against yours, just barely, not even a full kiss yet, just a ghost of a touch.

you made a soft sound, something caught between a sigh and a whimper, and that was all it took. jake’s fingers tightened at your waist, and then he kissed you for real, pressing his mouth against yours, warm and firm and just a little desperate.

you gasped softly against him, your fingers twitching before reaching for him, gripping onto his shirt. his lips moved against yours, slow at first, savoring, but there was tension beneath it, something deeper, something that had been left untouched for too long.

he exhaled sharply through his nose, his other hand coming up to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

you could hear the way your breaths mixed together, how your heart was pounding so loudly it almost drowned out the quiet creak of the mattress as he shifted pinning you down.

when he pulled back just slightly, just enough to look at you, his lips were parted, his breathing uneven. his forehead nearly touched yours, and he swallowed,

he looked at you like he was memorizing you, like he was seeing something he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch.

“you’d be a good mom..” he said suddenly.

your breath hitched and you stared at him. you weren’t expecting that.

his thumb brushed over your cheek slowly. “i thought about it,” he admitted, sliding up to your jaw, tilting your face slightly. his touch was so gentle it almost hurt. “i think about it more than i should.”

your chest ached. he was looking at you like he was seeing it, like he could picture it so clearly, it hurt.

“i don’t know if i would’ve been a good dad,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “but you? baby, you would’ve been everything.”

your breath caught. it was the first time he’d called you that in a long time. “jake…”

“you take care of people even when they don’t deserve it. even when i don’t deserve it.” he let out a small, breathless chuckle. “i fucked up so bad, didn’t i?” his lips pressed together before he looked at you again.

jake swallowed. his thumb traced a slow, barely-there circle against your skin. you closed your eyes, inhaling shakily.

“can i hold you?” his voice was quiet, careful. “just… for a second?”

you hesitated. but then you nodded.

and jake didn’t waste a second.

he pulled you in, wrapping his arms around you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t hold tight enough. his hand cradled the back of your head, his breath warm against your skin as he exhaled shakily. “i’m sorry, baby,” he murmured against your hair. “i’m so fucking sorry.”

and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself sink into him.

jake pulled back slightly, his gaze intense, searching yours. “you think having a baby right now’s gonna make this all go away?” his thumb brushed along your jawline gently. “maybe it won’t fix everything, but it’d damn well give us something real to work toward, something we could both look at and know we’re doing this for something better.”

“we can’t avoid the fact that we need something, baby. we can’t just keep pretending everything’s fine. this…” he let out a breath, his hand dropping to your waist, pulling you closer. “this thing between us, what we’ve been doing. it’s broken, and i know it. but you, baby… i know we can fix this. i want to fix this. and i want you with me while we do it.”

his words hung in the air, the quiet pressure in his tone making it clear that he wasn’t asking. he wasn’t waiting for you to decide for him, either. it was like he already had his mind made up, like this was the path he was going to push for, whether you were ready or not.

“i need you to be on the same page as me, sweetheart,” jake said, his voice dropping lower. “i need you to trust me, like i trust you. no more running, no more acting like we don’t both feel this.” his hands moved down, pulling you even closer, his chest against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

jake’s body shifted against yours, and you felt something hard press against your thigh. the suddenness of it made your heart race, and the space between you seemed to close even more. his breathing was heavier now, his eyes locked onto yours, waiting for any reaction.

jake’s body was shaking, his breath coming out in short, desperate gasps. he was right on the edge, every part of him trembling as he held you close.

“fuck..” he groaned, his voice wavering. his breath was hot against your ear, desperate and whiny. “i need this… need you to—shit, baby, don’t stop… please.”

the bed creaked with every movement, the sounds of your bodies colliding filling the room. jake’s breath was ragged, quick gasps escaping his lips as his body pressed against yours, sweaty and trembling.

his hands slid over your skin, the sweat making everything feel slick. “god, you feel so good..” he whimpered, his voice cracking with the effort to stay in control. “i’m close… so fucking close.”

he kissed you deeply, his lips trembling against yours, and he groaned at the sight of you, perfect, needy, ready to break.

“you’re gonna have my baby..” he whispered, as he buried his face in your neck “i’ll give you everything. just let go, baby. come for me, and i’ll fill you up… i need you to… please.”

the bed creaked once more, the sound louder as he thrust deeper. jake’s voice was trembling as he fought to hold himself back. the sound of his voice, so weak, so strained, made you shiver.

“hey, hey… look at me.” he murmured, gripping your chin to make you look at him. “mine. you know that, right?”

you nodded weakly, barely able to form words as he kept squeezing his dick deep inside of you. you hair was a mess and you could barely snort the strands that were getting in your face

“what do you want?” jake asked, hi grip on you tightened as he thrust deeper, his breath ragged against your ear.

you tried to answer, but the way he pushed deeper stole your words, leaving only a shaky gasp.

“a girl?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “i bet she’d look just—” another thrust, harder this time ”—like you.”

you could only moaned in response, fingers tangling in his hair as he moved against you, completely lost in the moment.

“you want to get married?” he looked down at you. you nodded quickly, the sensation overwhelming as he hit just the right spot. “yeah?” he urged, wanting to hear you say it.

“fuck yes” you breathed, your response coming out desperate and filled with need, lips parting as another moan slipped free.

his teeth scraped against you jaw before he kissed you hard, swallowing every sound you made. his breath hitched as he pulled you closer, his hands shaking slightly with urgency.

“come on, baby… let me feel you.” jake murmured, his voice trembling with a mix of need and desperation. “i need you..” he rasped, his voice almost breaking. “need you to come for me. please, baby… i need to feel you.”

your breath came in shallow gasps, and your body shuddering with the pleasure he was giving you. “jake…” you moaned, your nails digging into his skin as you clung to him.

“fuck—baby—” His voice cracked, his grip on your hips tightening like he was afraid to let go. “I c-can’t—shit, I’m gonna—”

he was so deep, his body stiffening against yours as he let out the neediest whine, his forehead pressing against yours. his skin was burning, damp with sweat, muscles twitching from how hard he was holding back.

the bed rocked with every movement, the headboard knocking against the wall as jake’s body tensed, his breath coming out in short, desperate gasps. his hands were shaking, his fingers digging into your skin.

“you f-feel so—shit—so tight, baby, i’m—” he choked on his words, his whole body trembling as he buried himself as deep as he could, letting out a broken whimper.

the second he spilled inside you, he groaned, his body collapsing against yours, completely spent. his breath was hot against your neck, his arms still wrapped tightly around you like he never wanted to let go.

jake was still panting, his chest rising and falling against yours, his body completely hot, damp with sweat.

“shit…” he let out a shaky breath, still buried inside you, his body jerking slightly every time he shifted. he was sensitive, too sensitive, but he wouldn’t pull away. “you feel so good…” he murmured, voice weak, breathless. “so fuckin’ perfect, baby.”

the bed still creaked beneath you, both of your bodies slick with sweat, sticking to the sheets. jake groaned when you shifted even a little, his hands gripping your hips tighter. “d-don’t move..” he whined, voice barely holding together. “i’m too..fuck—too sensitive.”

his head fell against your shoulder, his lips brushing against your skin as he sucked in a deep breath. “you okay?” he mumbled, fingers tracing circles on your hip, still twitching from how hard he came.

when you nodded, his grip loosened just a little, but he still wouldn’t pull away. “i don’t wanna move..” he admitted, voice muffled against your skin. “wanna stay like this… keep you full.”

you traced your fingers along his back, feeling the way his muscles twitched under your touch. “you really meant it?” you whispered. “about the baby?”

jake lifted his head just enough to look at you, his eyes half-lidded, still dazed. “of course, i meant it.” he murmured. “i want it so bad, baby. wanna see you all round with my kid.” his voice cracked slightly, his hands sliding up your sides, as if he was trying to memorize the way you felt right now. “you’ll be so fucking pretty… carrying my baby.”

your breath hitched, your legs instinctively tightening around him. “jake…”

his lips ghosted over yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “say you want it too..” he pleaded. “tell me you’ll give me a baby.”

you swallowed, heart racing. “i want it..” you admitted softly. “i want everything with you.”

jake let out a shaky breath, his hands trembling where they held you. “fuck..” he whined, pressing his forehead against yours. “i love you so much. i swear, baby, i’ll take care of you.”

you smiled slightly, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “you better.”

he chuckled breathlessly, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, desperate kiss. “i will…” he promised. “forever.”

1K notes · View notes

starryjake · 5 months ago

Text

truth or dare | s.j

in which your best friend, jake, finds out you want him and makes your fantasy come true.

pairing: jake x fem!reader

includes: f receiving oral sex, munch jake obviously, you touch his dick over the pants lol, stripping (lmk if i missed anything).

it was an accident, jake swore. not only was it an accident but it was partly your fault for leaving your laptop wide open for anyone to see.

you were in the bathroom and your laptop was pinging and pinging and pinging nonstop with text messages. jake was laying on your bed, his eyes glued to the tv, but he was beginning to lose focus from how often your computer was pinging.

finally, he couldn’t stand the sound anymore and grabbed your laptop from the edge of your bed. all he was going to do was turn it off and be done with it, but on the screen, he something that caught his eye.

your text messages were open and he saw his name so he just had to look, to know why you were talking about him with your friend.

his eyes widened when he saw why he was mentioned in your texts.

messages coming from you that started with fairly tame things like: “jake looks so good today,” “jake’s cologne is making me go crazy.”

but the more he scrolled, the more texts he found that were just purely vulgar, absolute filth like: “NEED him to eat me out till im crying,” and “bet he moans so pretty,” and even, “need his dick all the way down my throat asap.”

jake almost thought he was being pranked. he simply could not wrap his around the fact that you—his best friend of nearly five years—wanted him.

quite honestly, jake kind of thought that the two of you strictly had a sibling-like-friendship. you always teased him and fought with him like he was an older brother, and he always protected you and teased you back like you were his little sister.

but you wanted him. if those texts were anything to go off of, then you certainly did not see him as a brother.

suddenly, the bathroom door opened. jake practically threw your laptop back to the end of the bed and laid back against your pillows like he wasn’t doing anything.

you walked into the room and sat down next to him with a sigh.

“alright, did you pick a movie?” you asked.

jake wasn’t paying attention to a word you said. all he could focus on was how far you were sitting from him on your bed. how was he ever supposed to find out you liked him if you wouldn’t even go near him?

“jake,” you said, pushing his arm to get his attention.

“huh?” he said. “no, i haven’t picked yet.”

“jeez, what have you even been doing in here the whole time?” you wondered, taking the remote from him to choose a movie yourself.

you would definitely not want to know what he was doing just minutes before you came in the room.

jake didn’t focus during the movie. he couldn’t no matter how hard he tried.

how could he watch a movie when you were right there next to him, probably thinking about him and all the dirty things you wanted to do with him.

it was driving jake crazy. this new piece of information, this secret you’ve been carrying for god knows how long, jake had it now and did not know what to do with it.

“this movie is kinda boring,” he finally spoke.

“seriously? it’s nominated for like four oscar’s,” you responded.

“let’s do something else,” jake suggested.

huffing, you sat up slightly and turned off the movie. you then looked over at jake.

“what do you wanna do?” you asked.

jake shifted his body to face you instead of the tv. you tried to calm your thoughts, your thoughts that were far from pg, but he looked amazing. his black hair was slightly more grown out that normal and messy against your pillow. he was in a sweatshirt and sweatpants which is how you liked him best, in comfy clothes.

“we could play a game or something,” he suggested.

“what game?” you wondered.

“i don’t know,” he shrugged. “like, truth or dare or something.”

you snorted. “really?”

“c’mon,” he pouted.

by just looking at his face and that sweet little pout he gave, a flip practically switched in you and suddenly you would do just about anything he asked.

“okay,” you gave in. “truth or dare?”

jake pondered for a moment. he wanted to steer the game in a direction that would get you to admit your feelings for him. he needed to hear it from your mouth because he was still having a hard time believing those text messages.

“truth,” jake replied.

“okay,” you thought for a second. “if you had to hook up with one of your guy friends, who would you pick?”

“god, you’re the worst at asking questions,” jake groaned. “but sunghoon, obviously.”

“figured,” you replied. “your turn.”

“truth or dare?” he asked you.

considering you were comfy where you were laying in your bed, you didn’t want to pick dare in case he dared you to do something that required getting up.

“truth,” you said.

“if you had to hook up with one of the guys, who would you pick?” he asked.

you pondered. obviously you knew who you would choose but you couldn’t tell him that.

“i don’t know,” you lied. “probably heeseung.”

“yeah right,” jake scoffed.

“what?” you frowned. “he’s hot.”

jake could feel himself getting frustrated.

“your turn,” he said.

“truth or dare?”

“dare,” he answered.

“i dare you to show me the last picture in your camera roll,” you said.

you didn’t think much of it, but out of all the dares you could’ve given him, jake would’ve chosen anything else. he knew what the last picture in his camera roll was.

“actually, i pick truth,” he said.

“you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. “now you really have to show me.”

“i don’t think you wanna see it,” he tried to warn.

“what, is it a dick pic or something?” you joked. you joked. but then you saw jake’s face and his lack of words and knew that it really was a picture of his dick. “what the fuck, jake?”

“it’s not a full one,” he reasoned. “it’s just like…my bulge in a pair of sweatpants.”

yeah, you wanted to see it really bad. but you didn’t want him to know that. you didn’t need him to know that you were already getting wet at the mere thought of seeing that kind of picture of your best friend.

“well…” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. “a dare is a dare.”

jake tried not to smirk. he knew it, knew you wanted to see it.

he pulled out his phone and opened the picture. it was a mirror picture. he was shirtless in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips, not even wearing underwear underneath. his outline was very clear since he was hard when he took the picture.

slightly nervous, jake handed you his phone. you took it, looking at the picture. it was even better than you imagined.

he didn’t miss the way you gulped and the way you instinctively zoomed in on the picture to get an even better look.

but you didn’t say anything. you didn’t tell him he looked good or anything. you just nodded and handed him his phone back.

“ok, your turn,” you said.

“what?” jake frowned. “you don’t have anything to say?”

“why would i have anything to say?” you wondered.

“because i just showed you a picture of…well, that,” he said. “you have nothing to say about it?”

“no,” you laughed. “gross.”

you were being so hard to get, it was actually driving him crazy. he knew you wanted him so why were you being so difficult about it?

“fine,” he scoffed. “truth or dare?”

“dare,” you said, hoping he’ll take it easy on you and not make you get up.

“take off your shirt.”

you immediately gave him a glare.

“dude, what?” you said.

“a dare is a dare,” he replied, repeating your words from a few minutes ago.

“why would i take off my shirt?” you asked.

“because i’m telling you to,” he responded, his eyes darkening.

the way he said it suddenly made you really want to take it off, wanting to obey any command he gave you.

you sat up a bit and started pulling your sweater over your head. all you had on underneath was a thin, light pink bra. your nipples were visibly hard beneath it and jake was already twitching in his pants at the sight.

once your shirt was off, you looked at him expectantly. his eyes flickered down to your chest and back up to your face.

he hummed in satisfaction.

“cute,” he said quietly.

it wasn’t much but the word went straight to your face, turning your cheeks red. oddly, you didn’t feel like covering yourself up. in fact, you would show more of yourself if you knew jake was going to compliment you.

“okay,” you whispered. “truth or dare.”

“dare,” he picked again.

“i dare you the same thing,” you said.

he was hoping you would.

smirking, he pulled his own shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor.

now, you were really starting to get nervous. you had no idea what was going on but you and jake were shirtless in your bed. you liked the feeling though, and you wanted more.

you stared at his bare chest and abdomen, the slight trace of abs making you squeeze your thighs together.

“like what you see?” he chuckled at you checking him out shamelessly. “wanna feel?”

“shut up,” you muttered, turning your head that other way.

“no, really,” jake said. “feel it.”

he suddenly grabbed your hand and placed it against his warm naked abdomen. he guided your hand up and down his chest so you could feel every part, every indent of his body.

he could tell he was finally getting to you. you were submitting to him, losing your uninterested demeanor and he was damn glad about it. he needed to uncover the you that wanted him desperately.

“mmm,” he hummed, basically moaning just from your hand rubbing his body.

he was bold when he very gently and slowly dragged your hand down even further until it was brushing over his waistband and to the front of his sweatpants, right where his growing cock was.

you looked up at his face in shock, but his eyes were closed. he was biting his bottom lip, fully engrossed in this and the feeling of your hand pressed flat on his covered cock.

he kept your hand there, not even making you move it or grip his erection, but just having you feel it. it was entirely hard and just having your hand on it, you could feel it pulsate.

weakly, you began to wrap your fingers around the outline, but he squeezed your wrist and pulled your hand off of him before you could.

his eyes opened and when you looked at each other, he just smirked.

“truth or dare?”

he asked it so calm and casually like your hand wasn’t just on his dick. you didn’t even quite know what to say, unsure how you were supposed to go about playing the game after that.

“uh, t-truth?” you sputtered out, purely confused about what was going on.

“how long have you wanted to do that?” he asked.

your heart seemed to stop beating for a moment.

“what?” you asked.

“how long have you wanted to touch my cock?” he wondered. “how long have you wanted me?”

“who said i want you?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing.

obviously you did want him, but you didn’t know how he knew that.

“i saw the texts,” he told you. he could still tell you were confused so he added, “the texts with you and your friend, talking about how badly you wanted me. god, the things you were saying were just filthy, y/n. i had no idea you felt that way.”

your heart sunk. suddenly, you didn’t want to do any of this anymore. you were utterly humiliated that jake found out you liked him and even more so by how he found out.

“jake, i-i—” you sputtered. “please. i don’t—”

you couldn’t figure out what to say.

“so?” he said. “how long?”

you bowed your head in shame.

“a long time,” you mumbled. “‘m sorry.”

jake tilted your head back up by your chin, smiling softly at your blushing face. you were so cute when you were embarrassed, he was almost doing all this on purpose.

“why are you sorry?” he asked. “i never said i didn’t feel the same, did i?”

this could not be good for your heart. all this slowing of your heart race only for it to pick back up again so quickly. but now you were filled with hope and excitement.

“really?” you asked eagerly, pathetically almost.

“c’mon, let’s keep playing,” he said.

“truth or dare,” you said.

“truth,” he replied.

“what did you think when you saw those texts?” you wondered sheepishly.

he chuckled a bit.

“i guess i was thinking about how i didn’t realize my best friend was so horny for me,” he said, his voice deep and sexy. you squirmed, your body unbearably hot. “now, truth or dare?”

you were nervous to pick dare to see what he would make you do next, but more than nervous, you were excited. so, you did it.

“dare.”

jake knew what he was going to dare you was bold, but he was hard as a rock in his pants and needed you now.

“i dare you to let me eat you out.”

he expected some kind of shock and disgust from you, but that was not the response you gave him.

ever since you’ve known him, you’ve wanted him between your thighs. so now that he was actually offering, why would you reject that?

“okay,” you whispered, still nervous despite wanting it.

he watched in surprise as you lifted your hips up and pulled both your pants and underwear down at once. you looked over at him, waiting for him to follow through with your dare.

“fuck,” he muttered, still in shock that you were suddenly naked right next to him. “didn’t know you wanted me that bad.”

you couldn’t argue. you did want him that bad.

he got up and positioned himself between your legs, face to face with your pussy. he held your thighs while he stared at it, in awe that it was really right there in front of him, his to devour.

“it’s so pretty,” he said, leaning in to place a kiss on your clit. “never knew my best friend had such a pretty little pussy.”

his words sent heat all over your body. you were embarrassed but more than that, you were just so unbelievably turned on. jake looked so good between your legs and you knew he’d look even better once he was actually eating you out.

“please,” you urged, jutting your hips up impatiently.

jake finally licked a stripe up your slit, starting from the bottom all the way up to the top. he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked on the sensitive bundle of nerves, moaning at the taste in his mouth.

“fuckkk,” you moaned out, head falling back against your pillows.

he alternated between sucking and licking your clit, using the tip of his tongue to rub it in little circles and watching the way it moved up and down and to the side. he was eventually just making out with it, eyes closed in concentration and pleasure.

after a moment, he pulled back, a string of saliva keeping his lips attached to your glistening pearl. he then leaned back in and starting licking up and down your pussy in firm, fluid strokes, gathering all of your arousal on his tongue and swallowing it.

you dug your fingers into his hair, tugging on the thick strands which only fueled jake even more. he moaned against your cunt, eyes rolling slightly from getting his hair played with and pulled.

“you’re so fucking hot,” he said, his breath warm on your pussy. “such a good pussy too. fuck, i want it all over my face.”

he dived back in, pushing his face into your pussy as much as he could. his nose rubbed against your puffy clit as his tongue delved inside your hole. he pushed it in as deep as it could possibly go, feeling your warm plushy walls around him.

“fuck, jake!” you yelled.

he sucked on your folds and back on your clit, suddenly intoxicated by the delicious taste of your pussy. it was just so hot, so sweet and tight and perfect. he truly could not get enough and genuinely wanted to drink your arousal.

“oh my god,” he moaned. “you have the sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted, baby. fuck, it’s so good.”

your legs shook on either side of his head. you were feeling weaker and weaker by the second, his tongue moving like lightning and filling you with sparks.

he flicked the tip of his tongue up and down your slit, tilting his head to the side and resting it on your quivering thigh. the wet sound of his tongue flicking up and down your folds was driving you to the edge.

you couldn’t even warm him that it was about to happen. it just happened.

“mmm, i’m cumming,” you slurred, so drunk on the feeling that you could hardly speak.

you gripped his hair extra tight, pushing your hips up into his face. he ate your perfect cunt and drank every last droplet of your arousal that dripped out of you.

you were dizzy and moaning loudly and carelessly as you grinded your cunt against his face, riding out your high. your pussy was so wet, drenched in your own cum and jake’s saliva.

when you were finally finished, jake sat up and collapsed next to you, his lips, nose, and chin all glistening in your arousal.

you turned your head to face him, your cheeks red. the shock of what you two had just done was kicking in.

you weren’t sure what you two were supposed to do now and where to go from there. you were best friends and best friends weren’t supposed to do what you’d just done.

“wanna finish that movie?” jake asked casually, as though he wasn’t just tongue deep in your cunt.

“sure,” you agreed, as though you weren’t just cumming all over his face.

he wrapped his arm around you and played the movie again, the two of you laying there without acknowledging what happened.

:3 teehee munch jake :3 teehee best friend jake

thanks for reading!

2K notes · View notes

woniedarlin · 1 month ago

Text

The Price of Perfection

pairing: Academic Rival! Jake x fem! reader

synopsis: You are always first. The one everyone expects to win. Confident, prideful, and untouchable. People admire you, envy you, resent you. But it doesn’t matter because in the end, you always prove them right. Then you go home. And first place isn’t enough. Second is unacceptable. Third is a disgrace. Anything less is failure. But then there’s Jake. Jake, who wins because he loves to. Jake, who has everything you don’t.

And the moment he looked past the perfect image you built, everything began to change.

warnings: This story contains themes of parental neglect, emotional abuse, academic pressure, and self-doubt. It covers on inadequacy, angst, and emotional breakdowns, but also slow-burn romance and comfort. Read at your own risk.

author's note: This story is deeply personal to me. It’s the first time I’ve poured so much emotion into something. If you relate to any part of this, please remember: you are enough. Always. Thank you for reading.

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20

The cameras flashed. The medal's weight around your neck was heavier than it should’ve been. Gold, cold, undeserved. Applauses were loud.

You smiled. Of course you did. It was the expression expected of a champion. Graceful, composed, proud. You had practiced it enough times in the mirror, so much so that it no longer hesitated. You let the corners of your lips go upward just right, enough to appear humble but not so much that you seemed arrogant. Enough to sell the illusion that this victory was yours to enjoy.

Your parents stood at the front of the crowd. Their hands clapped the loudest, and their smiles stretched the widest. They shook hands, nodded in gratitude, and took every compliment thrown their way as if they were the ones who had spent sleepless nights preparing. As if they were the ones who had earned this. “We’re so proud,” they had said when your name was announced. “You did it.”

Did what, exactly?

You stood there as the flashes went off, the cheers rang in your ears, and your parents continued to receive congratulations on your behalf. You stood there and dared to look down.

Second place was crying.

Not just the silent kind, not the polite, quiet tears of someone accepting defeat, but the kind that came from deep inside, that cracked a person open. Their shoulders trembled as they looked down at their silver medal, fingers curling around it so tightly you thought it might shatter.

And then there were the others. The ones who had fought, who had given everything, who had wanted this much more than you ever did. Some stood stiffly, disappointment carved into their faces, blinking back the loss with forced indifference. Others stared blankly at the floor, avoiding your gaze because looking at you only deepened the wound.

It didn’t feel good.

It never did.

Taking something that wasn’t yours to take, crushing someone’s dreams just because you could. It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel right.

And maybe it wouldn’t have felt so hollow if this had been your dream. If you had wanted this as badly as they did. If you had fought, struggled, and clawed your way to the top because it was something you couldn’t live without. But that wasn’t the case.

You had never wanted this.

But you won anyway.

And that was the worst part of it all.

🪢

The hallway was full of students moving in clusters. Conversations were overlapping, and lockers were slamming shut. Same faces, same voices, same excitement over things that would be forgotten by next week. You walked through the center of it all, and people noticed you without needing to say anything. Whispers followed you, talking about your latest win and how easily you had secured another first-place title. People admired you, but bitterness and jealousy were hidden behind their forced smiles.

“Look who’s finally back from their throne,” a familiar voice called out, loud enough to turn a few heads. A heavy arm slung over your shoulder before you could react. It was Seojin, one of your so-called friends, though that word had lost its meaning a long time ago. He grinned down at you, his smile wide. There was something in his face that made it clear he wasn’t celebrating you.

You scoffed, shrugging his arm off easily, adjusting your bag strap as his touch had thrown off your balance. “What, miss me already?” Your voice was light enough to remind him where you stood in this hierarchy. “You should get used to it. Winners are always busy.”

Laughter spread through the group gathered around you. A few people exchanged glances, nodding as if they agreed with each other, truly believing you were unstoppable. Seojin laughed and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Busy collecting more trophies, huh? I have to say, it must be tiring being the best at everything.”

You smirked. “Wouldn’t know. It comes naturally.”

Immediately, the group reacted with a chorus of “oohs” and chuckles. Another voice joined in. “You looked like you belonged on that stage. I mean, holding that trophy, you seemed made for it.” Jihoon added.

For just a moment, your smile faded a little.

“Made for it.”

Those words should have felt like a compliment but instead felt like a reminder. A cage.

But you couldn’t let them see that. So, you laughed easily, like every other lie. “Of course I did,” you said, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “I make everything look good.”

More laughter followed. More voices joined in. More noise.

You kept up this act because it felt natural now. This confident version of yourself, who never had doubts. This group, these people, this constant game of who could seem the most untouchable. It was tiring.

And none of them were even your friends.

They were here because your name meant something. Because standing next to you made them look better. Because being associated with a winner was better than being another nameless face in the crowd.

Some people called you cocky.

Maybe they were right.

Or maybe you just played the part because it was the only thing you knew how to do.

The moment you stepped into the next hallway, the energy shifted. The laughter, the background noise of your so-called friends. It all faded into something heavier. Because there he was.

Sim Jaeyun, or Jake as most would call, was the person who never treated you like a high-status figure. He didn’t feel any pressure from your name. He was a real threat and didn’t even have to try. While you acted like a confident champion, enjoying victories you didn’t care about, Jake was different. He truly wanted this, and that made things more complicated for you.

Unlike you, he was genuinely passionate. He stayed up late studying, not to keep up his image, but because he loved learning. He was brilliant but never showed off. He made people feel comfortable around him. Your presence was sharp and demanding, while he was warm and easygoing. Your so-called friends stuck to you for your status. In contrast, Jake’s friends liked him for who he was, not his achievements. His parents didn’t take credit for his success. They supported him and celebrated his efforts, not just the results.

You had everything. Yet somehow, he had everything you wanted.

And maybe that was why you hated him.

Or maybe you didn’t.

Maybe you didn’t know what to do with him.

Jake looked up as you walked toward him. His face was hard to read. You both seemed very different. You wore an arrogant smirk, surrounded by people who only stuck around when you won. He stood there relaxed, with his friends laughing at a joke you hadn’t heard.

But you needed to keep up your image.

“You seem pretty relaxed for someone who lost yesterday.” You said.

Jake paused his conversation and looked at you, his friends noticing you too. He met your gaze, and his smile was small and genuine momentarily, not bitter or angry. It made you feel like entering a game without knowing the rules. “And you,” he replied, “look a bit worried for someone who won.”

For a moment, your confidence almost falters. Almost. But you quickly kept your expression smooth. “Worried? Not at all. I barely broke a sweat.” You let out a short laugh and raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, you put up a good fight. I almost thought you had a shot.”

Jake kept looking at you. He didn’t react the way others usually did. Instead, he took his time before responding. “Almost, huh?” He spoke as he was contemplating your words. He studied you, and for once, you felt like the one being examined. “I guess I’ll have to try harder next time.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms, shifting your weight to show confidence. “Go ahead. We both know how this usually turns out.”

His lips turned into a slight grin, neither a smirk nor a laugh. “We’ll see.”

It wasn’t a challenge or bragging. It was just a simple statement from someone who seemed to believe that the future was unpredictable. For some reason, that feeling shook you more than anything.

People like you were not supposed to hesitate. People like you were not supposed to let doubt creep in.

But Jake Sim had a way of making you feel uncertain.

You weren’t even sure if he noticed.

🪢

The moment you stepped outside the school gates, you were still the person everyone expected.

You smiled, laughed, and stood tall.

Your so-called friends hung around you, stretching out their goodbyes. They gave half-hearted compliments and exaggerated praise about your latest win. You nodded along, pretending their words mattered. You let them talk, enjoying the moment before you walked away, climbed into the waiting car, and left them behind for the day.

As soon as the car door shut, the act ended.

The silence weighed heavily. The outside noise turned into a dull hum and was muffled by the thick glass. Your confident expression finally dropped. There would be no more forced smiles or sharp comments.

Just quiet.

Your older brother, Jay, was already in the backseat, sitting comfortably with his long legs stretched out. He looked calm, as usual. When you settled beside him, he glanced up from his phone and met your eyes. “Hey,” he said, relaxed.

You hummed back, leaning against the seat and feeling your exhaustion set in.

“How was school?” Jay asked. He asked because he always wanted to hear it from you, even if he knew the answer.

“It was alright,” you replied. It was the most straightforward answer.

Jay didn’t respond right away. He studied you momentarily, his fingers tapping his phone, deciding whether to call you out on your lie. In the end, he didn’t press you. He never did.

The car started moving away from the school, and with it, the image you had kept up faded. You watched the students outside continue their laughter and conversations. What felt suffocating just moments ago now seemed far away.

No one at school knew this version of you.

You didn’t speak unless someone spoke to you. You didn’t fill silences with witty remarks or smug comments. You didn’t carry the weight of expectations. You didn’t feel like you were performing.

At school, you were never quiet. You were always loud and talking, making sure everyone noticed you. Being quiet meant giving others space to think and see through you.

But in the car, you didn’t have to fill the silence.

In the car, you could just be you.

So, you let the quiet settle. You relaxed your shoulders. You stared out the window, watching the city blur, knowing you could just be yourself for the next twenty minutes.

Jay didn’t say anything else. He lets you sit in silence and take it in. And that was enough.

🪢

The moment you stepped into the house, you already knew something was wrong. The air was too tense. Too quiet. You barely had time to take off your shoes before your mother called your name. You could tell something was wrong. You always knew when it was.

Your father was already in the living room, which made it clear there would be no discussion. Your mother stood next to him, looking exhausted and grim. “You didn’t sign up,” she said. It wasn't a question or an accusation. Just a fact. They already knew the answer before you walked in.

Your stomach dropped. Of course.

You had tried not to mention the competition and hoped they wouldn't notice when the deadline passed. You thought, maybe for once, they would let it go.

But they didn’t.

“You didn’t even try,” your father said sharply with his piercing gaze. “We had to call them ourselves. We begged them to let you in after registration closed.”

Begged.

That word felt heavy and suffocating. Your well-respected parents had to use their influence and name because you didn't do what was expected. Your mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Do you know how embarrassing that was? Do you even care?”

“I just won a championship,” you replied. You didn't raise it or show your fatigue, but it was hard not to let it show. “Why does it matter if I skip this one?”

Your father shook his head in disbelief. “Why does it matter?” he repeated, astonished that you would even ask. “Do you think success ends with one win? That one victory is enough?”

Your mother stepped forward, her face showing disappointment and frustration. “Do you realize how many doors this could open for you? How many people would do anything for a chance like this?”

You knew because you had seen those students who wanted it badly. They cried when they lost and studied late into the night, chasing something that was handed to you.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re competing,” your father said firmly. “End of discussion.”

There it was. They made the decision for you, as usual.

Your mother sighed and rubbed her temples. “We already submitted your name. The least you can do is show some gratitude.”

Gratitude.

You swallowed the bitterness rising in your throat.

There was nothing left to say.

So, you nodded. You nodded because it was easier than fighting. Because no matter what you wanted, it never really mattered.

Because, at the end of the day, this was the life you had been given.

And no matter how much you wanted to, you could never escape it.

“I’m sorry,” you said with the words barely escaping past the tightness in your throat.

Your father scoffed, turning away because your apology wasn’t worth acknowledging. Your mother sighed before walking past you, her hand lightly brushing against your shoulder, not as a sign of comfort but as if she were dismissing you.

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Because in this house, your choices didn’t matter.

Only the results did.

🪢

Everything in the dining room was arranged perfectly. The food was carefully portioned. It looked beautiful, but it tasted like nothing to you. You sat still, your back straight, moving your fork absently, pushing the food around rather than eating it. The conversation between your parents was casual, even. But you knew where this was going before they even said it.

Then, there it was.

“Jake placed first in the regional math competition,” your father said as he cut into his steak. “I spoke to his father earlier today. Apparently, he not only won, but he beat last year’s champion by a huge margin.”

The muscles in your jaw tightened. You knew better than to look up.

Your mother hummed, sipping her wine before delicately setting the glass down. “I’m not surprised,” she said, dabbing with a napkin at the corner of her lips. “Jake’s always been a hardworking boy. So polite, too. His mother told me he spends extra hours studying every night without being told. He even tutors younger students in his free time.” She sighed, shaking her head, almost wistful.

“You could learn a thing or two from him.”

You knew it was coming.

That didn’t make it any easier to hear.

Your grip on your fork tightened, your fingers pressing into the cool metal. You didn’t lift your head. Didn’t argue. Didn’t say anything at all.

Your father continued, “Jake doesn’t have everything handed to him,” he said, placing his knife down with a soft clink. “And yet, he’s still doing better than you.”

The words sat heavy in the air, heavier than the food sitting untouched on your plate. Jay, who had been quiet up until now, let out a sharp exhale. He placed his utensils down with more force than necessary, the sound cutting through the tension in the room. “You’re acting like she’s not already winning every other competition,” He spoke calmly, but you could hear a tension in his voice that only you noticed. “Maybe, instead of comparing her to someone else, you should acknowledge what she had done. Instead of acting like it’s never enough.”

Your mother shook her head, seeing what he said was unreasonable. “That’s not the point, Jay,” she said sharply.

“Then what is the point?” Jay shot back. He looked directly at them. “That no matter how much she achieves, it’s still not enough for you?”

Your father turned to him. He didn’t get angry. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said as if that was the end of it. As if that was all that needed to be said.

And just like that, the discussion was over.

There was no room for argument. There is no room for anything.

Your parents continued eating, their conversation turning to something lighter, meaningless, as if the weight of their words hadn’t just settled in your chest like a stone. It was as if they hadn’t reminded you once again that you were still not enough. You forced yourself to take a bite, chewing slowly, swallowing past the lump in your throat.

Jay glanced at you from across the table, his expression softer now, but he didn’t say anything else.

Because he knew, just as you did, that there was nothing left to say.

🪢

Jake didn’t think about you much. Not in the way others did.

To everyone else, you were a name that carried weight, a student who stood at the top without fail. People whispered about you in the halls. Some with admiration, some with jealousy. You had everything. The grades, the reputation, the influence. And you knew it. You walked through the school like it belonged to you, like everyone else was just a step below, trying to catch up.

Jake never had to catch up.

He had always been fine where he was. He worked hard, he did well, and that was enough. He didn’t need to stand on a podium to prove anything. His parents were proud whether he won or not. His friends didn’t care if he was in first place or fifth. His achievements were his, not something for others to measure their worth against.

That was the difference between you and him.

You acted like everything was a competition. Every test, every ranking, every moment you could use to remind people where you stood. It was almost entertaining sometimes. The way you smirked when your name was called first, the way you barely spared a glance at the people below you.

People always assumed the two of you were enemies. The belief that academic rivals are destined to despise each other. But Jake never really hated you.

He didn’t respect you either.

Because arrogance didn’t impress him.

So, when he passed by you in the hallway, watching as you threw an arm around your so-called friends, laughing too loudly, standing too tall. He didn’t feel envy. He didn’t feel admiration.

He just felt nothing.

And if you ever turned your gaze his way, lips twisting into that confident smirk, daring him to try and take your place at the top. He only ever smiled back, easy, unbothered.

Because, unlike you, he had nothing to prove.

🪢

The room was silent except for the clicking of keyboards and the scratch of pens against paper. The weight of expectation pressing down on your shoulders. Your fingers flew across the page, solving, calculating, writing. Each answer had to be perfect. Each step is precise.

You couldn’t afford to be slow.

You glanced at the timer. Two minutes left.

Your heartbeat pounded fast. Your breathing was shallow. You could hear the clock ticking. It's louder than it should be. Your grip on the pen tightened until your knuckles turned white.

One last question.

Your eyes looked at the numbers on the screen. You ran through the calculations in your head, fingers trembling as you wrote them down on the paper.

Something didn’t feel right.

You double-checked. No, no, no. This wasn’t what it was supposed to be. You rewrote the equation, erasing and correcting. The answer wouldn’t come out right. The numbers blurred together, your mind racing faster than you could keep up.

Your hands were sweating.

One minute.

You swallowed hard. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t-

Your hand slipped. The pen streaked across the page, ink smudging. You cursed under your breath, hastily fixing the mess, but-

Thirty seconds.

Shit

Your breath hitched. You were running out of time. You forced yourself to write down the answer, even if you weren’t sure. You couldn’t leave it blank. You couldn’t-

Five seconds.

Your eyes darted to the scoreboard.

Jake’s score was higher.

Your stomach dropped.

No.

The timer beeped.

The competition was over.

Jake had won.

🪢

This is what it feels like.

To be second.

The cameras flashed, but they weren’t for you this time. Your lips twitched, struggling to form the familiar, practiced smile. It was supposed to be easy. You had done it a thousand times before, in every victory and moment you stood at the top.

But this time, you couldn’t.

You stood there, trophy in hand, a step lower than ever. A step below Jake.

Jake, who stood on the podium above you, smiling. Genuine, effortless, like he belonged there. His name was called, his score announced, and the crowd cheered. His parents were among them, their voices the loudest, their pride so clear. His friends clapped, laughing, celebrating with him.

You swallowed hard.

Your eyes looked to where your parents sat.

They weren’t clapping.

They weren’t smiling.

They weren’t doing anything.

Their faces were blank, unreadable, but that only made it worse. It would have been easier if they were angry, if they scolded you, demanded answers, questioned why you weren’t standing where you were supposed to be.

But they didn’t.

They just watched.

And somehow, that silence crushed you more than any words ever could.

You turned back to Jake, forcing yourself to look. He was still smiling, still happy, still surrounded by people who were happy for him.

You had never been jealous of him before.

But now?

Now, you wished you knew what it felt like to win and actually deserve it.

🪢

The medal was cold against his skin. But his heart was warm.

Warm from the embrace of his parents, their arms wrapped tightly around him, their voices with nothing but pride. Warm from his mother’s teary smile as she cupped his face, whispering you did so well. Warm from his father’s hearty laughter, the way he clapped him on the back and said, we knew you could do it, son.

Warm from the cheers of his friends, their voices overlapping, already talking about celebrating, about how Jake had earned this.

It felt good.

Not just winning. But knowing, truly knowing, that he deserved this moment. That the people around him were happy for him, not because of what he had achieved, but because it was him. “Excuse me for a second,” Jake murmured, offering them a smile before stepping away. The main hall was busy with flashing cameras and loud applause. He just needed a breather, a moment to let it all sink in.

But as he walked toward the quieter side of the building, his steps slowed.

He saw you.

And it wasn’t at all how he expected.

Your father stood in front of you, voice low but strict. Your mother was beside him, her arms crossed, her words quieter but no less cruel.

You didn’t look at them.

Your head was bowed, your hands clasped so tightly in front of you that your knuckles had turned white.

Jake stopped in his tracks.

For as long as he had known you, you had never looked like this before.

You, who always carried yourself with that arrogant smirk. You, who always made everything a competition, never settling for anything less than first. You, who always acted like winning was your right.

Now, you looked-

No. You didn’t look like anything at all.

Your face was blank. Your shoulders stiff. Like you had frozen in place, unable to move, unable to fight back.

And then-

Your father exhaled. “Embarrassing.” His voice was something worse than anger. More like disgust. “Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for us?”

“Second place?” Your mother scoffed. “Do you think that’s acceptable? After everything we did for you?”

Jake clenched his jaw.

It was the way they spoke. Like you had failed them. Like coming in second was the same as losing entirely. Like you were nothing more than a disappointment.

And then it happened.

Your father reached forward, fingers gripping the silver medal around your neck. Without hesitation, without a second thought-

He ripped it off.

The thin ribbon snapped. The medal clinked against his wedding ring, slipping from his fingers-

Into the trash.

Jake felt sick to his stomach

You didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

Didn’t even look at it.

Like it wasn’t even there.

Like it never mattered.

Your parents didn’t wait for you. They turned, walking away, their faces unreadable, like this was routine. Like they had done this before.

And you-

You followed.

Quiet. Expressionless.

Like you weren’t even there.

Jake couldn’t move.

His hands tightened into fists. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed.

Was this… normal for you?

Had this been happening every time you lost?

No. Jake knew you. He knew your pride, your arrogance, the way you carried yourself with confidence.

But was it ever real?

Jake had never questioned what was behind your smirks, your constant need to be first.

Not until now.

🪢

Your bedroom was dark. You sat at the edge of your bed, staring at nothing.

You should be crying.

Shouldn’t you?

But you felt nothing.

Not anger. Not sadness. Not even disappointment.

Just… numbness.

Jay knelt in front of you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. His warmth covered your skin, but it didn’t reach the coldness inside. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you, like he always did when things felt too heavy, when you came home and locked yourself away, and when the weight of expectations became too much to carry alone.

His embrace was the only thing tethering you to reality.

And it hurt.

Because Jay was all you had.

The only person who saw you for more than just a name. The only person who didn’t care if you were first or second or last.

The only person who stayed.

“…I’m proud of you,” Jay whispered. His voice was calm, but there was something fragile in the way he held you. He was afraid you’d shatter. “No matter what, I always am.”

Your hands clenched the fabric of his sweater, but you still didn’t speak.

Because what was there to say?

That you never wanted any of this?

That winning had never been your dream?

That you were tired. So, so tired of being the person everyone expected you to be?

That when your father threw your medal away, he wasn’t just throwing away an award. He was throwing away you.

Jay pulled back slightly,

“Get some rest,” he murmured. “Please.”

You knew you wouldn’t.

Because even with your eyes closed, the weight of it all would still be there.

Pressing. Crushing.

Never letting go.

🪢

You had been walking through life on autopilot for as long as you could remember.

Winning, smiling, shaking hands, collecting medals like they meant something. Like they made you something. It was a routine now. Just another thing you did because it was expected. Because that was who you were supposed to be. And yet, standing at the podium while staring at Jake Sim of all people, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Exposed.

You weren’t sure why you were still here. The hallway was empty. The competition had ended yesterday. The results had already been burned into everyone’s minds.

Jake won. You didn’t.

Simple as that.

But it wasn’t simple. Not when you could still hear the sound of your father’s voice slicing through your ribs, carving up whatever was left of you. Not when you could still see the silver medal at the bottom of that trash can.

Jake’s voice cut through the silence.

“You don’t look happy.”

Oh, he’s here too.

You scoffed. “You sound surprised.”

“I thought winning was everything to you.”

Your fingers twitched at your sides. “Yeah, well. First time for everything.”

“You don’t seem that upset about losing.”

That made you look at him. He wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t smug. He was just… watching. Like he had been watching all night.

“What are you getting at, Sim?”

Jake looked at you. “I saw what happened.”

The world around you blurred.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What?”

“Outside. After the competition.” He tilted his head. “I saw your father.”

“I saw him throw your medal away.”

You wanted to laugh. To brush it off. To say so what? But the words wouldn’t come.

He continued. “That wasn’t the first time, was it?”

You swallowed, “Mind your own business, Jake.”

He didn’t back down. “I see you now.”

Your nails dug into your palms. “And what exactly do you think you saw?”

“Someone who’s exhausted.”

A slow, bitter smile appeared on your lips. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But I know what it looks like when someone’s been forced to win their whole life. And I know what it looks like when they finally realize they don’t want to anymore.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, before you could stop yourself, before you could shove the words back down. Your voice slipped out, quieter than you intended.

“What would you have done?”

Jake blinked. “What?”

You clenched your jaw. “If you were me. If you had my parents, my life, my expectations. What would you have done?”

His expression changed. Softer. Almost… sad.

“I don’t know.”

You huffed out a bitter laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

Jake didn’t argue. He just watched you like he was waiting for you to say something real.

But you didn’t.

Because you didn’t know how.

So instead, you did what you always did.

You turned and walked away.

🪢

The sun was beginning to set. Jay had just stepped out of a convenience store, a cold soda in hand, when he heard someone call his name.

“Jay?”

He turned, barely catching a glimpse before an arm wrapped around his shoulder in a quick bro hug. “Jake, man!” Jay grinned, giving him a solid pat on the back before stepping away. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Jake smirked. “Yeah, I was just passing by. You headed somewhere?”

“Nah, just grabbing something to drink before going home.”

Jake glanced at the can in Jay’s hand and grinned. “Still hooked on soda, huh?”

“Still better than your overpriced coffee addiction,” Jay shot back.

Jake let out a laugh. “Fair.”

They found a bench nearby and sat down, cracking open their drinks. “Man, feels like forever since we just sat down like this,” Jay said, taking a sip. “Like when we were younger. Back when drinking soda made us feel cool.”

“Still does,” Jake replied, and they both chuckled.

The conversation was easy. They talked about random things. Old friends, stupid childhood memories, how fast time was passing. But then Jake’s playful energy in his eyes dimmed just slightly.

“Jay… can I ask you something?”

Jay raised a brow. “Since when do you ask permission?”

Jake didn’t laugh this time. His fingers tapped against his can. “It’s about your sister.”

Jay’s smile faded.

“What about her?”

Jake hesitated, just for a second, but long enough for Jay to notice.

“I saw…” Jake paused. “Never mind.”

But Jay already knew.

The way Jake wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Jay set his drink down, voice calm but firm.

“What did you see, Jake?”

Jake didn’t answer right away. He looked like he was deciding whether to speak at all. Jay didn’t rush him. Finally, Jake continued. “After the competition… I saw her with your parents.”

Jay didn’t react, not outwardly. He just kept his gaze on Jake. Jake hesitated, but now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “I didn’t mean to listen, but I—I heard what they said. What they did.” He clenched his jaw. “Jay, they threw away her silver medal.”

Jay’s expression didn’t change. He simply took another sip of his drink,

“Is that all?”

Jake frowned. “Jay-”

“No, really,” Jay cut in. “Is that all you saw?”

Jake stared at him confused. “What do you mean?”

Jay scoffed, shaking his head. “If you think that’s bad, then you haven’t seen anything yet.”

Jake felt something cold settle in his stomach. He had always known Jay’s family was strict, but this… this was something else.

“How long has it been like that?” Jake asked quietly.

Jay leaned back against the bench. “Since forever.”

Jake’s grip tightened on his soda can. “Why don’t she say anything?”

“Because it wouldn’t change anything.”

Jake hated how casually Jay said it, like it was just a fact of life. Like it wasn’t something that should make someone furious. “I don’t get it,” Jake admitted. “Why did she still… play along? Why act like everything is fine?”

Jay finally looked at him tiredly. “Because that’s the only choice she have.”

Jake didn’t know what to say to that. For the first time, he regretted knowing. Because now, he couldn’t unsee it. He couldn’t forget the way you had stood there silently and not moving, as your father discarded your achievement like it was nothing. He couldn’t forget how you had walked away, your shoulders heavy, your head bowed. Not out of shame, but out of exhaustion.

He had always thought of you as arrogant, competitive, impossible to break.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

“You know, she’s always been quiet,” Jay said suddenly.

Jake looked at him confused. “Quiet?”

Jay nodded. “Yeah. Like, really quiet. Always has been. Since we were kids.”

Jake frowned, trying to piece that together with the girl he knew. “That doesn’t sound like her.”

Jay chuckled. “Yeah, well, that’s because you don’t know her like I do. People think she’s all confidence and competition, but that’s just what she lets them see. You strip all that away? She barely says a word.”

Jake stayed silent, letting that sink in.

“She was always the quietest one in the room,” Jay continued. ��Never talked much, never caused trouble. Just did whatever was expected of her. I think people used to forget she was even there sometimes.”

Jake found that hard to believe. “So why the change?”

Jay shrugged. “Didn’t change. Not really. She still doesn’t talk much when she doesn’t have to. Just learned how to play the part when she needs to.”

Jake tilted his head, thinking back to all the times he had seen you surrounded by people, laughing, teasing, always in control of a conversation. And yet, he couldn’t remember a single time you had actually talked about yourself.

“So all that confidence-“

“Not her,” Jay cut in. “But, she’s still quick-witted, still kinda funny when she wants to be. But when she’s not ‘performing’ for people? She’s quiet. Always has been.”

Jay stretched his legs out. “You know, you should at least try to be friends with her.”

Jake raised a brow. “Friends?” He let out a small laugh. “Pretty sure she’d rather choke than let that happen.”

Jay smirked. “Yeah, she’s dramatic like that. But she’s actually really funny when you get to know her.”

Jake gave him a confused look. “Funny?”

Jay nodded. “Like, in a really deadpan way. She doesn’t even try, but it makes it worse because she says stuff so seriously. And she’s good at keeping a straight face too, so people never know if she’s joking or not.”

Jake thought about it. He had seen glimpses of that before, the way you could make a single remark and have people either dying of laughter or questioning their entire existence. But he had always assumed you did it on purpose, as part of the persona you carried.

“You’re telling me that under all that arrogance, she’s just… quiet and funny?”

Jay grinned. “Yep. Oh, and she also eats weirdly. She cuts everything so neatly.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Jay chuckled. “It’s weird. She won’t just bite into a burger. She’ll actually cut it first. Like, who does that?”

Jake laughed.

Jay continued. “But seriously. She’s not as impossible as you think. Just… don’t be an idiot about it.”

Jake stayed quiet. He didn’t know why, but the idea of getting to know you, really know you, stuck with him longer than it should have.

🪢

The wind was pushing against you like it wanted to knock you over. You welcomed it. The cold, the force of it, it was the only thing that felt real right now.

Footsteps.

You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“You always come up here when you’re pissed off,” Jake said.

You exhaled through your nose. “And yet you always follow me. Should I start calling you my shadow? ”

“If it gets you actually to talk, sure.”

You huffed a dry laugh. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

Jake didn’t say anything. He just walked forward, stopping beside you, mirroring your posture as he leaned against the railing. For a while, neither of you spoke. “You lost back there,” he said finally. Not taunting, not victorious. Just a fact.

You closed your eyes briefly before reopening them. “Yeah. I did.”

A pause. Then, softly, “And? ”

You swallowed. “And… it’s funny.” Your voice was quieter than you intended. “Because I didn’t even want to win.”

Jake turned his head toward you, but you fixed your gaze on the skyline. You couldn’t look at him. Not now. “Then what do you want? ” His voice was gentle.

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

What did you want?

The question pressed against you. You’d spent your whole life running, fighting, and competing. Chasing after a finish line someone else had drawn for you. You were always trying to get ahead and be the best. Not because you wanted it but because you were expected to. So then… what was left when all of that was stripped away?

Jake was still watching you, waiting. But you had no answer.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t know.”

He didn’t respond right away. When he finally did, his voice was quiet. Almost… sad.

“You know, for all the years I’ve known you… I don’t think I’ve ever really known you at all.”

Your throat tightened. You finally turned to look at him.

“Let me help you figure it out,” he said.

And for the first time in your life, you wanted to let someone try.

The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

“How?”

It wasn’t arrogant. It wasn’t with the usual sharpness you carried. It was… quiet. Uncertain. Real.

Jake was caught off guard. Maybe he had expected you to scoff, to push him away like you always did. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

You were tired.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw as if thinking. “We start small,” he said finally. “We talk. We stop pretending to know everything about each other when we don’t.”

Your fingers loosened around the railing. “And then? ”

“And then we figure it out.”

You stared down at your hands. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not.” Jake studied you. “But it doesn’t have to be impossible either.”

You swallowed. “Why do you even care? ”

He was silent for a long time, long enough that you almost regretted asking. But when he spoke, his voice was softer than you had ever heard it.

“Because I saw you that day,” he said. “With your parents. I saw the way they looked at you. The way they spoke to you. And I realized… you’ve never had someone who listens to what you want, have you? ”

No. You hadn’t.

You didn’t even know what you would say if someone ever asked.

You turned away from him, your grip tightening against the railing again. “I don’t need your pity, Jake,” you murmured, but even you didn’t sound convinced.

“It’s not pity,” he said. “It’s just the truth.”

The truth.

You let out a bitter laugh. “You act like it’s that easy. Like suddenly, because you noticed, something will change. It won’t.” You inhaled sharply. “My parents won’t. I won’t.”

“Then let’s stop talking about them,” Jake said. “Just for a second. Forget them. Forget all of it. Just tell me. What do you want? ”

There it was again. That question.

“I…” Your fingers trembled. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay.” His voice was steady. “Then we start there.”

You turned to look at him, and for the first time, you didn’t see Jake as your rival. You didn’t see the boy who beat you, who had everything you didn’t. He was just looking at you.

And for once, that was enough.

🪢

The crisp rustle of paper snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Here you go,” your professor said and slid a registration form onto your desk with a smile. “I assumed you’d be competing again this year. You wouldn’t want to waste your momentum, right? ”

You stared at it. The words are printed at the top. Bold, formal, suffocating. It felt heavier than it should.

“Right,” you muttered and forced a smile as you picked it up.

Of course. Of course, they’d assume. Because that was who you were. The star student, the prodigy, the competitor. Even if you hadn’t breathed a word about joining, people just knew. Your parents must have already whispered it to the right ears. You walked out of the classroom, staring at the form in your hands. It felt like holding a contract with no escape clause.

And then, before you could process it, the paper was gone.

“What’s this? ”

Your head snapped up. Jake. Standing in front of you, turning the paper over in his hands.

“Give it back,” you muttered, reaching for it, but he took a step back.

“Are you actually signing up for this? ” His tone wasn’t mocking, but something about it irritated you.

“It’s not like I have a choice,” you said flatly. “They expect me to.”

Jake’s face didn’t change. “And do you want to? ”

You scoffed. “Why do you always ask me that? ”

“Because you never answer,” he said.

Your fingers twitched at your sides. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“It should.”

He was so sure. So convinced. You almost envied him for it.

“Then tell me, Jake,” you said. “If I say no, if I throw this form away and never look back. Then what? ”

Jake didn’t hesitate. “Then I’ll be right there with you.”

“What-”

“If you don’t sign up, I won’t either,” he said. “If you want to walk away, then let’s walk away. Together.”

Is he being serious right now?

“Why? ” you whispered.

“Because I told you. I want to know you. The real you. And if that means letting go of some dumb competition, then so be it.”

You had never felt so seen in your entire life.

🪢

The aluminum can was cold in your hands. You stared at it, confused, before glancing at Jake.

“…Why? ” you asked as your brows furrowed.

Jake only shrugged. Popping open his own can with a hiss. “You looked like you needed one,” he said simply and brought the soda to his lips.

You eyed him for a moment longer before taking a small sip. The carbonation fizzed against your tongue. It gave you something to focus on. Something other than the boy sitting beside you. Jake leaned back against the bench, his arm resting casually along the backrest. “Jay was right,” he said. “You really are quiet.”

You paused mid-sip. Lowering it just enough to glance at him.

“Huh? ” You weren’t sure what he meant by that.

Jake didn’t look at you right away. Giving you space to process his words. “I mean… when you’re not performing. When you’re not playing the role everyone expects. When you’re not competing or surrounded by people who only care about your name.” He finally turned to you and smiled. “You don’t say much at all.”

You pressed your thumb against the can’s surface. “And that’s a problem? ” Your tone was neutral.

Jake shook his head. “Not at all,” he said steadily. “Just… different.” He took another sip of his drink before adding, “I think I like this version of you more.”

That was strange. You weren’t used to being seen like this. To someone noticing the parts of you that existed outside of competition, outside of expectations. You didn’t know how to respond. So, you didn’t. Instead, you took another sip of your soda, letting the taste of artificial sweetness and carbonation sit heavily.

“I’m jealous of you.”

The words left your mouth before you had the chance to second-guess them. They weren’t said with bitterness or anger. Just exhaustion. A quiet sort of truth. Jake didn’t react at first. He was processing your words. “Jealous? Of me? ” His voice held genuine surprise.

You let out a breath while your shoulders sagged. “Yeah.” You turned the can in your hands again, staring at the condensation gathering on the surface. “You have everything I don’t. A supportive family. Friends who actually care. You don’t have to prove yourself every second just to be worth something.”

Jake stayed quiet, listening. He always listened.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be me,” you continued, voice quieter now, but no less raw. “To have people around you, but still feel alone. To have a name everyone respects but never be sure if anyone actually likes you. To constantly win, but never feel like you’re allowed to lose.” You let out a dry chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “And the worst part? I don’t even want to win.”

Jake’s face was showing understanding. Or pity. You weren’t sure which one was worse.

“Then why do you? ” His voice was gentle.

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

Because you didn’t have an answer. Or maybe you did, but you weren’t ready to say it out loud.

Jake leaned forward slightly. “I don’t know how you feel,” he admitted. “I won’t pretend I do. But… you don’t have to be alone in it.”

You scoffed. “And what? You’re going to save me? ”

“No,” Jake said simply. “But I can listen. If you let me.”

You had spent so long keeping these thoughts buried. Locked behind walls built too high for anyone to climb. But somehow, he had found his way through.

“Jay is the only thing I have,” you admitted.

Jake stilled beside you. “What do you mean? ” he asked, though you could tell he already had an idea.

“He’s the only one who really knows me. Who doesn’t care about the name, the rankings, the medals. If he wasn’t there…” Your throat tightened, but you forced the words out. “I think I’d have nothing.”

Jake didn’t speak right away. His eyes on you. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than before. “You know that’s not true, right? ”

You laughed bitterly. “It is.” You gestured vaguely. The proof was all around you. “Everyone else only sticks around because of the reputation. Because it benefits them. I see it. I know it. And my parents-” You stopped yourself. “They only care about the success, not the person behind it.”

Jake was quiet for a moment. “That’s not how it should be.”

“Yeah, well.” You forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Not all of us get to have what you have, Jake.”

Jake frowned. “And what do you think I have? ”

“Everything.” The word was heavier than you expected. “You have people who support you. People who love you. Who don’t just see you as a title or an achievement. You don’t have to fight for their approval, because you already have it.”

Jake held your gaze. Then, slowly, he set his can down beside him and leaned back on his hands. “I don’t think that means I have everything,” he murmured. “Not if it means you have nothing.” Then, he stretched beside you. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day where you admitted you were jealous of me.”

You shoved his arm lightly. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I won’t. I’ll just make sure to remind you every chance I get.” He grinned. “‘Jake, you have everything,’” he mimicked in a terrible impression of your voice. “‘Jake, you’re so humble, so talented, so-’”

You shoved him harder this time. “I take it back. I’m not jealous of you. I pity you.”

Jake only laughed, catching himself before he could tip over. “Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips turned upwards despite yourself.

“So,” Jake finally said while tapping his fingers against his knee. “Since we’re being honest today. What do you actually like? You know, aside from crushing your opponents in competitions.”

You raised a brow. “Who says I like that? ”

“You sure act like it.”

“I don’t know.” You hesitated. “I guess… I never really thought about it. I’ve just been doing what’s expected of me.”

Jake hummed thoughtfully. “Well, maybe it’s time you start.”

You glanced at him. It was unsettling how easily he could be both annoying and unexpectedly kind in the same breath. “And how exactly do I do that? ” you asked.

Jake shrugged. “Figure it out. Try something new. Do something for yourself instead of everyone else.” He paused, then smirked. “Like, I don’t know. Maybe getting ice cream with your ‘rival’ after school?”

You narrowed your eyes. “That sounds suspiciously like a date.”

“Call it what you want.” He stood up and stretched. “But I’m getting ice cream either way, and I won’t stop bragging about it if I go alone.”

🪢

After classes, you two went to a nearby ice cream shop. The ice cream was cold against your tongue. You sat across from Jake at a small outdoor table, absentmindedly tapping your spoon against the cup. “You know,” you started with your voice flat, “this is the first time I’ve eaten ice cream without the crushing weight of expectations looming over me.”

Jake snorted. “Wow, what a tragic backstory.”

“It is,” you deadpanned. “Every bite before this was accompanied by the echo of my parents’ disappointment.”

He stared at you for a second before bursting into laughter. “God, you’re so dramatic.”

“Am I? ” you asked, still completely serious. “I think it adds depth to my character.”

Jake shook his head, taking another bite of his own ice cream. “Jay was right. You really are funny in the weirdest way possible.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, still expressionless.

“It wasn’t meant to be one.”

“Too late.”

Jake just chuckled, shaking his head. The conversation carried on like that. Quick exchanges, half-serious jokes, and you, testing the waters of what it felt like to simply be. No competitions, no expectations, just sitting here, eating ice cream with the one person you never expected to share something so normal with. And when you looked at Jake, mid-bite, you realized something else…

Maybe this was what it felt like to have a friend.

🪢

For the next few months, something unexpected happened.

At first, it was a small change. Jake started waiting for you after class. The two of you walking together, sometimes in silence, sometimes bickering over the smallest things. He would flick your forehead whenever you made a dry joke, and you would roll your eyes when he got too philosophical about life. Then, there were the study sessions, the shared lunches, and the exchanged texts that started out about assignments but eventually turned into things that had nothing to do with school.

Somewhere along the way, “rival” wasn’t the right word.

You still competed, of course. Old habits were hard to break. But there was a difference now. When you turned in your test papers, you didn’t feel like you had to prove something to him. When you saw his name next to yours on the scoreboard, it didn’t feel like an attack on your worth. Jake had a way of existing so effortlessly, like he belonged wherever he stood, like he had nothing to prove. And for some reason, being around him made you feel like you didn’t have to prove anything either. One afternoon, as the two of you sat on the school rooftop. “I think I’m forgetting how to be competitive.”

Jake looked at you. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, thinking. ‘’It’s not.”

🪢

The moment the results were announced, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.

Third place.

For a second, the world seemed to slow. The crowd cheered, cameras flashed, and the weight of all the past competitions pressed against your chest. But instead of disappointment. There was…

Relief.

You turned your head and saw Jake standing on the highest podium. He was smiling, beaming, and when his eyes met yours, his expression softened. He wasn’t just happy for himself. He was proud of you. And strangely, you felt proud too. The old you would’ve hated this. Would’ve obsessed over the what-ifs, convinced yourself that third place meant failure. But now, standing there, you just smiled. Genuinely smiled.

Jake stepped down from his podium before the ceremony was even over, ignoring the announcer’s call. In a second, he was in front of you, eyes searching, until you opened your arms. And then, he pulled you into a hug. It wasn’t brief or hesitant. It wasn’t a victory embrace, not in the way you used to think about winning. It was steady, warm, something unspoken but understood.

“You did amazing,” he murmured.

You let out a small laugh. “You did better.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point” he squeezed your shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

You swallowed. For once, you didn’t brush it off. You didn’t argue.

You let yourself believe it.

🪢

The moment you stepped out, the harsh light from the parking lot made the situation feel colder than it already was. Your parents were already waiting for you by the car. Their faces were tense. They didn’t even look at each other before they started in on you.

Your father’s voice was low. “You’ve failed again.” His words hung in the air. “How many times do we have to do this? We put you in the best position possible. I thought you’d learned something after last time, but all you’ve proven is that you can’t handle the pressure.”

You stayed quiet, your hands at your sides, unwilling to look up. There was nothing you could say that would make them understand. Not now. Not ever.

Your mother spoke, her voice a little softer but still sharp. “We give you everything, every advantage, and you still can’t manage to bring home the result we expect. You got third place. Third. Why? Because you didn’t care enough. Because you were distracted. Because you-” She stopped herself.

You wanted to say something, anything, to defend yourself. But you knew it wouldn’t matter. Your words would fall on deaf ears. No matter what you said, it would never be enough.

“I thought you’d work harder. But it’s clear now. You don’t care about winning. You never have,” your father added with his voice cold now. Then, there was silence, and it was unbearable. You could feel the tears welling up behind your eyes. You fought them back. You had to. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you break. And just as you thought you might snap, you heard a voice from behind you. Calm. Steady. Unshakable.

“That’s enough.”

Jake.

You didn’t turn to look at him, but his presence was like a wall between you and your parents now. He stepped forward, his shoulders straight, eyes hard as he looked at your father. “With all due respect, sir, that’s not fair.” Jake’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried. “She tried. You can’t pretend that she didn’t. I’ve seen her work. I’ve seen how much she puts into this. You can’t just tear her down like that because she didn’t win. That’s not how this works.”

Your father’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t used to being challenged. Not by anyone. Certainly not by someone like Jake. Your mother, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes. “You’re out of line. This is a family matter, Jake. You don’t know what we’ve sacrificed to give her everything she needs to succeed.”

Jake’s eyes softened, but there was still a firmness to it. “I’m not saying you didn’t sacrifice. But you’re hurting her. You’re not giving her a chance to breathe. To be more than just the next win on your list of expectations. She’s not a machine.”

You could feel your heart racing now. This wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want Jake to defend you like this, not like this. You didn’t want to be the center of their conflict. But you also couldn’t help the way his words felt so protective and heartwarming. Your father’s voice cracked this time. “You have no idea what it’s like to be responsible for someone like her. You think this is easy for us? ”

Jake didn’t flinch. “I’m sure it’s not easy. But that doesn’t mean you can break her every time she doesn’t meet your expectations. She’s already carrying a burden you don’t understand.”

There was a long silence. Your parents, caught in their own frustrations, didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw your father this quiet. This is uncertain. And yet, it didn’t make you feel better. It made the pain worse, somehow.

“Go to the car.” Your father looked at you.

You didn’t move. Not immediately. You couldn’t. Your feet felt rooted to the ground. Your mother’s voice broke through the fog. “Come on, let’s go.” There was no warmth in her voice. No understanding. Just a demand, as though you were nothing more than a tool they could use to achieve their own goals.

Still, you didn’t move. But then, your father’s gaze hardened, and with a final glance at you, he turned away and started toward the car. Your mother followed without a word. They got into the car and drove off, leaving you standing there, frozen, isolated. Abandoned in the worst way possible.

The car was long gone, and the sounds of your parents’ angry voices were still in your mind. You were left in the cold, standing at the edge of the competition venue, a place that was supposed to celebrate achievement, yet all you felt was an unbearable emptiness. You didn’t know how long you stood there, paralyzed by the weight of it all, until you felt a presence behind you.

Without saying a word, Jake came up behind you and pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around you in a way that was protective and almost desperate. For a moment, you stayed completely still, not knowing how to react. You tried to suppress the tears that threatened to break through, but the more you tried to stop them, the more they came. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to fall apart like this, but the pain, the frustration. It was all too much.

Jake didn’t say anything at first. He just held you. Your body shaking against him. His hand ran through your hair gently. After a long silence, his voice broke through the quiet.

“I love you.”

You froze. You weren’t ready for this. You didn’t expect it, not like this, not in this moment of raw vulnerability. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could do was cry harder, the pain in your chest intensifying with every breath you took. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t need to explain. His arms around you were all the explanation you needed.

And then, in the most fragile, broken voice, you managed to choke out, “I love you too, Jake.”

Your voice cracked as the words left your mouth, the reality of it all hitting you harder than anything else. It wasn’t just the weight of your parents’ disappointment. It wasn’t just the competition. It was everything. The years of trying to prove yourself, the years of hiding your pain, of pretending you were okay. But in that moment, with Jake holding you, all the walls you’d built around yourself crumbled.

You didn’t know how to explain it. You didn’t even know what it all meant. But you knew that in this moment, you weren’t alone.

🪢

It was late in the evening. The sun had long since set. You and Jake were at the same spot, the one you’d found yourselves in countless times before. It had become a place of understanding, where the noise of the world couldn’t reach you, where nothing else mattered except the moment you were sharing. Jake leaned against the railing, one arm crossed. You sat next to him, just a little distance apart, but the space felt non-existent.

It had been a few weeks since everything had changed between you two. Since the “I love you’s.”

“You know,” Jake said, breaking the silence, “I never really thought about how much I’d come to care about you. I think I spent so much time trying to figure you out that I missed how much I wanted to just… be with you.”

You didn’t say anything at first. The honesty in his voice hit you harder than you expected, and for a brief moment, you felt exposed. “I never really let anyone get close,” you admitted quietly. “But… with you, I don’t know. It just feels like it’s easier.”

Jake’s gaze softened. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide anything with me,” he continued. “You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to be anything you��re not. I only want to be here for you.”

You finally turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. Without thinking, you leaned in, the distance between you two shrinking with every heartbeat. And then, without a word, Jake mirrored your movement, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he closed the space.

When his lips met yours, it was like everything had clicked into place. It wasn’t forceful, nor was it with frantic energy. It was gentle, careful. You pulled back slowly. Jake’s smile was soft, and when he opened his eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he said quietly.

And when you smiled back at him, it was different. It wasn’t the kind of smile you gave anyone else. It was for him. For everything you were beginning to understand about him, and about yourself, too.

🪢

You don’t know why you agreed to meet them. Maybe some part of you still wants to believe they’ll listen this time. That they’ll understand. You sit across from them at the dining table in your family’s home. Your father is the first to speak. “Are you done being distracted? ” His voice is calm but sharp. “We gave you time to sulk after your loss. Now it’s time to get serious again.”

Your mother looked at you with disappointment. “Do you know how humiliating it was for us to see you standing there in third place? After everything we’ve done for you? ”

You don’t flinch. Not this time. “I was proud.” Your voice is steady. “For the first time, I was actually proud of myself.”

Your father scoffs. “Proud of what? Settling for less? ”

“Proud that I didn’t hate myself.” The words come out before you can stop them. And for the first time, silence fills the room.

Your mother’s expression tightens. “Where is all of this coming from? Since when did you start talking like this? ”

You grip your hands under the table. “Since I realized I could breathe without trying to be perfect. Since I stopped believing that my worth was tied to a trophy. Since Jake.” But you don’t say any of that out loud. Instead, you swallow and meet their gaze. “I’m not going to keep chasing something that makes me miserable just because it makes you proud.”

Your father’s hand slams against the table, making the dishes rattle. “You think you know better than us? You think you can just throw away everything we built for you? ”

“You built it for yourselves. Not for me.”

Your mother shook her head. “Ungrateful. We gave you everything. And this is how you repay us? ”

Then your father delivers the final blow.

“You’re making a mistake.” His voice, ice. “And when you fail, don’t expect us to be there.”

Something inside you cracks. Maybe it had already been breaking for years. You stand up. Your chair scrapes against the floor.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

And with that, you turn and walk away.

🪢

The months pass, and so do the expectations that once weighed you down. You’re still you. Still sharp, still competitive when it matters, but you’re no longer fighting a battle just to prove something. There’s no more need to mask everything behind arrogance. No more need to win just to feel like you deserve to exist. People notice the change. You’re quieter now, but not in the way that feels like suffocation. You’re reserved, but not closed off. And most importantly, you’re kinder. Not just to others, but to yourself. Jay is the first to point it out one day, laughing as he nudges you. “You used to act like you had to be the smartest person in every room. Now you actually let people speak.”

You roll your eyes. “I never did that.”

“Oh, you definitely did.” He grins. “But look at you now. I’m proud of you, you know? ”

You pause at that. It’s not something you hear often. But from Jay, it’s real.

You shrug. “Took me long enough.”

And then there’s Jake.

He’s always there, not in a way that feels like an obligation, but in a way that feels natural. Like you were always meant to meet him at the finish line, no matter where it was. You sit beside him on the rooftop as always. After a moment, he glances at you, eyes warm. “So, do you regret it? ”

You tilt your head. “Regret what? ”

“Letting go.”

You don’t answer right away. You think about everything you lost. The approval you once desperately sought. The expectations you’ll never meet. The people you had to walk away from.

But then you think about everything you gained.

You think about Jay’s laughter, about the way he never left your side. You think about Jake, about the way he looks at you as someone he chose to stay with.

For the first time, your answer is certain.

“No,” you say. “Not even for a second.”

Jake smiles. And when he reaches for your hand, you don’t hesitate before taking it.

Because for the first time in your life, you don’t need to win. You don’t need to be the best.

You just need to be here.

Extra Scene:

You and Jake sat on his bed, legs stretched out, backs resting against the headboard. “No, seriously,” Jake said, chuckling as he shook his head. “You were the most terrifying person I’d ever competed against.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. You make it sound like I was some villain.”

Jake laughed and looked at you for a moment. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. You knew what he was thinking. A comfortable silence passed between you before he suddenly reached over to his nightstand, pulling open the drawer. You didn’t think much of it at first, but then his fingers brushing over something inside before carefully pulling it out. Your breath caught in your throat.

It was the silver medal.

The same one your father had ripped from your neck that night after the competition, thrown carelessly into the trash.

But here it was, resting in Jake’s hands.

The thin ribbon that had once been torn off had been stitched back on. Messily, but carefully. The fabric wasn’t perfect, the stitches uneven, but it was there.

Whole again.

“You…” You swallowed as your eyes looked up to his. “You took it?”

Jake exhaled a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I saw it in the trash that night. Just sitting there, like it didn’t mean anything.” He paused, turning the medal between his fingers. “But it did mean something. Maybe not to them, but to you. So, I took it.”

You reached out, your fingers brushed over the uneven stitches.

“You fixed it,” you whispered.

Jake smiled. “It was never broken,” he murmured. “It was just… waiting for the right person to hold onto it.”

You looked at him then, pressing a soft kiss against his lips.

Being around him felt like peace.

776 notes · View notes

shy9-29 · 25 days ago

Text

Do You Ever Shut Up? [s.jy]

pairing - yapper jake x listener reader

“He talked, and I listened—quietly, sometimes frustrated, but always intrigued. It was never about the homework anymore, never about the noise. It was about the quiet moments in between, the ones where I started to realize that maybe, just maybe, the noise was exactly what I needed.”

wc. 18.1k

genre. fluff, high school sweetheart, introvert x extrovert — pt2

You had just transferred to this school at the start of the semester. New hallways, new faces, and the same routine—keep your head down, focus on your grades, and don’t bother trying to make friends. You weren’t rude or anything, just… disinterested. People were loud, messy, distracting. You had better things to do. Like acing every test handed to you and making teachers double-check your answers because they couldn’t believe how fast you worked through problems most kids couldn’t even start.

Within a few weeks, most of the staff knew your name—in a good way. The quiet, brilliant new kid. They praised your essays, passed your math tests around in the break room, and recommended you for everything from science fairs to tutoring programs. You didn’t mind. The praise meant progress, and progress meant a future far away from classrooms full of loudmouths and group projects.

You especially couldn’t stand people who didn’t know how to shut up. The ones who couldn’t go two seconds without blurting something out, who made every lesson drag twice as long. So when your chemistry teacher pulled you aside and said, “Y/N, I’m pairing you up with someone who could use your help,” you already knew it was going to be a disaster.

And then Jake sat down across from you.

Black hoodie unzipped just enough to show the edge of a white tee, black hair falling into his eyes, skin fair and clear like he actually cared about skincare or just had the genetics for it. His baggy jeans hung low on his hips, casual in that effortless kind of way. He looked like the kind of guy who never tried too hard but somehow still caught everyone’s attention.

“Yo! You must be Y/N, right? Man, they really gave me the quietest-looking tutor ever,” he said with a laugh, plopping into the chair across from you like he owned the place. “This is chemistry, right? Honestly, I don’t even remember what we’re learning. Something with… atoms? Explosions?”

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

He was loud. Way too loud. And friendly. Way too annoying. The kind of guy who talked like you’d known each other for years when you hadn’t even said hi yet. In your head, you were already calculating how many deep breaths it would take to survive the hour without snapping.

This had to be a joke.

Twelve years of school, and somehow your final year—the one that was supposed to be quiet, focused, flawless—had thrown him at you.

He was still talking. Of course he was. “I mean, I sorta remember something about covalent bonds? Or is that the one with sharing? I swear I passed the last test by, like, one percent.” He laughed again, leaning back in his chair like this was some kind of social hour instead of a tutoring session.

You stared at him, silently willing your annoyance to show through your expression. But either he didn’t get the hint… or he just didn’t care.

Jake.

You’d heard of him before today—impossible not to. Not necessarily popular, but everyone knew him. Loud in class, always chiming in with a joke, borderline annoying but weirdly charming in a way that made teachers sigh instead of scream. The kind of guy who never seemed to study, never seemed to worry, and still managed to scrape by.

The exact kind of person you hated working with.

He leaned forward suddenly, elbows on the table, eyes lit up like this was fun for him. “Okay, so, where do we start? You gonna explain it to me like I’m five or are we jumping into full nerd mode?”

You blinked again. “Do you always talk this much?”

He grinned like you’d just complimented him. “Oh yeah. It’s kind of my thing.”

You exhaled slowly, already regretting every life choice that led to this moment. “Great.”

He didn’t seem fazed. In fact, he looked amused. Like your irritation just made you more interesting.

This was going to be a long semester.

The tutoring session had barely started, and already Jake was more interested in you than the worksheet in front of him.

“So, Y/N,” he said, tapping his pen against the desk in a rhythmic, mildly irritating beat. “What kind of music are you into? Wait—lemme guess. Lo-fi? Or classical? You give off major ‘I study with rain sounds’ energy.”

You didn’t look up from your notebook. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay, so I was close,” he grinned, like he’d won something. “Rain sounds it is.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to focus on drawing out the molecular structure of ethane, but he wasn’t done. Not even close.

He tilted his head a little, eyes narrowing like he was trying to solve a mystery. “Do you always study alone? Or do you have, like, a secret group of brainiac friends who meet in libraries and whisper about grades?”

You gave him a look over the top of your notebook. “No.”

“Not very talkative, huh?” he said, more curious than offended. “That’s cool. Mysterious. Bet you’ve got a whole double life outside school.”

You sighed. “Do you want to pass chemistry or not?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! I’m focused now.” A beat passed. “Wait—do you play any sports?”

You didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t asking anything personal exactly, just… personal enough. Stuff people asked when they wanted to know you. Not your grades. You.

“No,” you said flatly. “I don’t do teams.”

Jake nodded like that somehow made perfect sense. “Yeah, I get that. You seem more like a solo mission kind of person. Like a main character in one of those moody indie movies.”

You blinked. “Are you always like this?”

He laughed. “Pretty much. My brain doesn’t know how to shut up. You’ll get used to it.”

You highly doubted that.

Still, somehow… you didn’t tell him to stop.

You weren’t sure how ten minutes had passed and exactly zero chemistry questions had been answered.

Jake was now fiddling with a paperclip he found on the desk, bending it into what looked like a crooked star. “So, do you like this school better than your old one?” he asked, voice casual, like you were old friends catching up instead of two almost-strangers stuck in a forced partnership.

You glanced up, half expecting the question to be another distraction tactic. But he looked genuinely curious.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the worksheet.

He nodded like you’d just shared a whole monologue. “Yeah, I mean, this place kinda sucks, but in like, a tolerable way. The food’s trash, the lockers jam half the time, and the Wi-Fi dies when you actually need it. But hey, the vending machines are alright.”

You didn’t laugh, but the corner of your mouth twitched. A tiny twitch. You prayed he didn’t see it.

Unfortunately, he did.

“Was that a smile? That totally was! Oh my god, I made the quiet genius smile. This is going in my personal highlight reel.”

You rolled your eyes, flipping the page in your notebook harder than necessary. “Can we please focus?”

Jake leaned in, resting his chin on his hand like he had all the time in the world. “Sure, yeah. But just so you know, I’m gonna crack you eventually.”

You blinked at him. “Crack me?”

He grinned. “Get to know you. Make you laugh. You’ve got this whole silent, no-nonsense vibe going, but I bet there’s a cool person hiding under all that academic intensity.”

You didn’t respond. Not because he was wrong—but because, annoyingly, some part of you wondered if he might be right.

Still, you picked up your pen and pointed at the question on the sheet. “What’s the difference between ionic and covalent bonds?”

Jake groaned dramatically, slumping over the desk like you’d just asked him to run a marathon. “Ugh, fine. But I better get, like, one fun fact about you after this.”

You ignored that part. Or at least, you tried to. But your ears felt a little warmer than before.

By the time the clock hit the hour mark, you had managed to get through maybe—maybe—three questions. And even those had taken way longer than they should have, mostly because Jake kept pausing mid-sentence to tell you a random story or ask if pineapple belonged on pizza. (You never gave him a real answer. He took your silence as a “yes.”)

“Same time tomorrow, right?” he asked as he packed up, slinging his backpack over one shoulder like he hadn’t just wasted your entire afternoon. You nodded stiffly, jaw tight. “Yeah.”

“Cool. I’ll bring snacks,” he grinned, already halfway out the door before you could say anything else. “See you then, study buddy!” You didn’t even bother correcting him.

The second he was gone, you slumped back in your chair and let out a frustrated sigh, pressing your fingers to your temples. Your notes were still open, your pen untouched for the last twenty minutes, and your patience? Gone. Absolutely gone.

By the time you got home, you were still stewing. You tossed your bag on your desk with more force than necessary, scowling to yourself as you replayed the entire hour in your head. He’d asked you more questions about your favorite movies and weirdest pet peeves than he had about covalent bonds. He was loud, distracting, borderline infuriating—and worst of all, he didn’t even seem to realize how much he got under your skin. You sat down, pulled out your notebook again, and started rewriting everything you should’ve covered today. Alone. In peace. Like usual. And yet…

You found yourself thinking about that stupid crooked paperclip star he left on the table. And the way he looked so proud when he caught you almost smiling.

Ugh. You hated people like him. Didn’t you?

The next day, you threw your hair up into a bun—more out of practicality than style—and tugged on a soft, oversized knit sweater that hung slightly off one shoulder. Paired with your usual jean shorts and worn sneakers, you looked effortlessly casual, though you hadn’t really meant to. You didn’t care what people thought. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You hadn’t expected to see Jake until your tutoring session later, but the universe clearly hated you because there he was—again—in second period English, slouched in the seat two rows over. You tried to ignore him. You really did.

But then, about halfway through the class, you felt eyes on you. You glanced up, and sure enough, Jake was looking straight at you with a grin like he’d just remembered something funny. And then he waved. Your brows drew together. He wasn’t subtle—he never was—so a few people turned to look, clearly wondering what the hell that was about. You quickly looked back down at your notes, pretending not to notice, pretending your face wasn’t getting warm.

After class, you were barely out the door before you heard, “Y/N! Wait up!”

You turned, only out of reflex, and there he was, weaving through the crowd toward you, beaming like you were best friends.

“You in chem next?” he asked, like it was normal for him to talk to you in the middle of the hallway with people watching. “I was gonna see if you could explain that thing again—the molecule stuff? I was kind of half-listening yesterday. Which, honestly, is a win for me.”

You blinked at him. “We’re not even in the same chem class.”

He laughed. “Yeah, but I still need to pass it. Don’t judge me for multitasking.”

You were about to reply—maybe with a sarcastic comment, maybe just a noise of disapproval—when his friends called out from a few feet away.

“Jake!” Sunoo shouted, brows raised. He and Jay were standing by the lockers, both staring like they’d just seen a ghost. “What are you doing?”

Jake looked back at them, then to you. “I’ll catch you later, alright?” he said, completely unfazed by the attention. “Same time after school?”

You nodded slowly, still confused, still unsure what dimension you’d woken up in.

Jake jogged back over to his friends, who immediately pulled him into some kind of half-hushed interrogation. You couldn’t hear every word, but you caught Sunoo whisper-shouting, “Since when do you talk to Y/N?” and Jay glancing back at you like you were the weird one in this situation.

You rolled your eyes and kept walking.

Let them be confused.

You were still trying to figure it out, too.

You spent the rest of the day trying not to think about Jake. Which, naturally, meant he was all you could think about.

Every time you passed him in the hallway, he either nodded at you like some inside-joke was forming between you two, or—worse—smiled. And not the fake, polite kind. The full-face, toothy, dimpled kind that made people stop and stare because Jake never smiled at just anyone like that. You hated how it stuck with you. Like an echo that wouldn’t quit.

By the time the last bell rang and you were back in the tutoring room, you’d rehearsed a dozen ways to tell him to focus this time, to maybe not spend the entire hour talking about his favorite cartoon as a kid or what he thought his “aura color” was.

But of course, the second he walked in, hoodie slouched on his frame, that damn crooked paperclip star in hand, all your frustration shriveled into confused silence.

“You left this yesterday,” he said, dropping it on the desk in front of you like it was important. “Thought maybe you’d want your good luck charm back.”

You stared at it, then at him. “It’s literally a mangled paperclip.” He shrugged, sliding into the seat across from you. “Yeah, but now it’s sentimental.” You shook your head, trying not to let the faintest laugh escape. “Unbelievable.” Jake opened his notebook—shocking—and tapped his pen thoughtfully. “So. Ionic bonds, right? I did not Google them last night, so you’re gonna have to start from zero.” You blinked at him, almost impressed. “You actually opened your notebook.”

He gave you a mock-offended look. “Hey, I’m trying. You’re a tough tutor, but I think I’m learning. Like yesterday—I remembered you don’t like pineapple on pizza.”

You hadn’t even told him that.

He just… noticed.

You should’ve been annoyed. But instead, a small part of you warmed, just a little.

“Okay,” you said finally, flipping to a fresh page. “Let’s try again.” He leaned forward, scribbling something down as you explained. For once, he wasn’t interrupting. Not too much, anyway.

And even though he still talked way too much—and still asked questions like, “Do you think atoms ever get tired of being stuck together?”—you realized something strange.

You didn’t hate it as much as you thought you would.

Fifteen minutes in, and things were actually going… decent. Jake was focused, or focused enough—nodding along as you explained the difference between polar and non-polar covalent bonds, underlining things, even writing a few notes that didn’t look like doodles. You were cautiously optimistic.

But of course, it didn’t last.

He dropped his pen suddenly and groaned, leaning back in his chair like he was in the middle of a full-blown existential crisis.

You stopped mid-sentence. “What now?”

Jake threw his arms up. “Sorry, I just remembered I have to go home tonight and deal with my Gen Alpha little brother, and my soul left my body for a second.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“He’s so annoying,” Jake said dramatically. “Like, actually evil. You know how people say kids are mean? No—this one is a different breed. I think TikTok rewired his brain. He calls me ‘mid.’ Mid, Y/N. Just walks by and says it for no reason. I breathe and he’s like, ‘L ratio, you fell off.’”

You stared at him.

“He’s eight,” he added, like that made it make more sense. “And he told me I ‘dress like an NPC.’ Like, what does that even mean?”

You let out a breath through your nose, fighting the weird urge to smile. “Didn’t you say earlier you don’t care what people think?”

“Yeah, but that’s before I got verbally destroyed by someone who still watches ‘Cocomelon’ on the family iPad.”

You sighed, flipping back to the page you were on. “Focus, Jake.”

“I am focused. I’m just traumatized.”

You gave him a flat look.

He raised his hands. “Alright, alright. Covalent bonds. Sharing electrons. Got it. But if I randomly zone out again, just know I’m mentally preparing for another roast session when I get home.”

You shook your head and turned back to your notes, trying to pretend you weren’t kind of entertained.

Maybe a little more than “kind of.”

It happened every single time.

You’d sit down, ready to tackle the work, and then within minutes, Jake would start talking about anything but the assignment in front of you. One day it was how his favorite cereal was definitely the best, another time he spent twenty minutes describing his latest failed attempt at cooking dinner (which somehow involved burning a frozen pizza).

Every time, he would throw in a comment like, “Oh, this is easy. You’re a genius, Y/N,” or “Don’t worry, I’m totally listening,” and then proceed to get lost in whatever tangent was running through his head that day.

And for a while, you just kept it in. You stayed patient. You focused on the material while he babbled about his brother, his latest argument with his mom, or how one of his friends was “acting weird” (Jake’s words, not yours).

But by the time the sixth session rolled around, you were fed up.

You were in the middle of explaining the difference between ionic and covalent bonds again—again—when Jake started tapping his pencil against the desk. Tap, tap, tap. Then he started humming under his breath. Then he picked up his phone and checked his messages.

You could feel your patience unraveling, thread by thread.

“Jake,” you said, voice calm but strained, “I’m trying to help you here.”

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbled, not even looking up. “Sorry, sorry, I’m paying attention. Keep going.”

You gripped your pen tightly, taking a slow breath before you snapped, “Jake, I don’t know what you see here, but we are not friends. I’m not your personal therapist or your stand-in babysitter, and I’m definitely not here to listen to you talk about your annoying brother for the hundredth time.”

The words came out faster than you expected, a flood of frustration you’d been holding in for weeks. “I don’t care about your cereal preferences or how you totally destroyed your frozen pizza. You want to pass this class? Then focus. Or I’m done helping you. I’m not doing this anymore.”

For the first time in the several weeks of tutoring, Jake went completely silent. His pencil froze in mid-air, and his eyes widened, not in that usual playful way, but in actual surprise.

You didn’t care. You shoved your notebook aside, stood up, and grabbed your bag. “I can’t keep doing this, Jake. It’s exhausting, and I’m honestly tired of being disrespected every time I try to help you.”

He still didn’t say anything.

For a moment, you almost regretted it. Maybe you had been too harsh. But as you turned toward the door, you glanced back at him. He hadn’t moved. He was staring at his desk, eyes focused on something��or maybe nothing at all.

Jake was quiet. For the first time, he wasn’t talking. Not even a comment. Not a joke. Nothing.

Jake sat there for a long moment, his pencil still suspended in mid-air, the usual spark in his eyes completely absent. The silence between you both felt heavy, suffocating, and for the first time since this whole tutoring thing started, you felt the tension shift.

You almost expected him to crack some joke, to brush it off like he always did, but instead, he just… stayed silent. The kind of silence that made your skin prickle, like something was about to change. Something you couldn’t quite control.

For a second, you regretted what you’d said. Maybe you’d gone too far? Maybe you shouldn’t have snapped like that. But then again, maybe he needed to hear it.

You turned back to him, ready to speak, to apologize, maybe, but the words stuck in your throat.

Jake finally dropped his pencil, his fingers running through his hair as he leaned back in his chair. His gaze stayed on the desk, avoiding yours, and his lips pressed into a tight line, like he was holding something back.

“I get it,” he muttered after what felt like an eternity. His voice was different now—no teasing, no playfulness. Just… quiet. “I wasn’t really… taking this seriously, huh?”

You didn’t say anything, unsure if you should respond or just let him process it.

“I didn’t mean to waste your time,” he added, glancing up at you with an expression you didn’t quite recognize. It wasn’t playful, wasn’t cocky. It was genuine. “I guess I just… I don’t know. I thought if I made it more fun, it would be easier. Or maybe I thought I could mess around and still get by like I always do.”

You could feel the frustration and guilt bubbling up inside of you, but you crossed your arms and held your ground. “You can’t keep doing that, Jake. It’s not fair to me, and it’s definitely not fair to you.”

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn’t sure what to say next. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, almost under his breath. “I’ll try harder. I just… I guess I got used to things being easy and not, you know, actually working for them.”

You were silent for a moment, watching him closely. For all his noise, his interruptions, and his distractions, this was the first time he seemed to truly care about what was happening in front of him.

“Good,” you said quietly. “Because if you want to pass, really pass, you’re gonna have to start actually trying.”

Jake nodded, his usual grin absent, but there was something softer in his expression now. “Yeah, I get it. I’ll focus. I promise. Just… don’t give up on me, alright?”

You felt a small flicker of something—maybe relief, maybe frustration—pass through you. “I’m not giving up on you. I just need you to show up, Jake. For yourself.”

He met your eyes then, something unspoken passing between you two. And for once, you didn’t have to explain it. He understood.

The next day, you walked into the tutoring room with your usual steady pace, preparing yourself for another round of distractions, interruptions, and Jake’s relentless chatter. You had half-prepared yourself for him to slip back into his old habits—because that’s just who he was. He’d brush off yesterday’s moment and go back to the loud, talkative guy who couldn’t sit still for five minutes. That was what you were expecting.

But when Jake showed up, it was… different.

He was already sitting at the desk when you walked in, his backpack slung over his chair, and he was quiet. You glanced at him, unsure if you were just imagining it. The room felt oddly still, with no humming, no random comments about how you were “definitely the smartest person in the room” or stories about his brother calling him “mid.”

He barely acknowledged you, his eyes focused on the open notebook in front of him, his pen tapping gently against the pages like he was thinking about something. Normally, he would’ve cracked a joke or some random remark about how hard chemistry was—but today, he didn’t.

You paused at the door, looking at him for a moment longer, waiting for him to say something. But nothing came. Not even a greeting.

You sighed, shaking your head as you sat down across from him. “You good?” you asked, trying to break the silence.

Jake’s head lifted, his eyes meeting yours for the first time. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Just… wanted to focus today. If that’s okay.”

For a second, you were thrown off. The change was… unsettling. The room felt quieter than usual. Too quiet.

You took a slow breath, trying to process it, but it wasn’t exactly easy. The constant noise, the banter, the Jake-ness that you’d gotten used to over the last few weeks—it was all gone. Now, he was just there. Quiet.

“Okay,” you said slowly, settling into your chair and trying to ignore the weirdness building up between you two. You picked up your pen, glancing at the worksheet in front of you. “Then let’s get to it.”

And so you did. You went through the material, explaining things like you normally would. Jake didn’t interrupt. He didn’t ask random questions or make jokes. He didn’t even fidget.

He was… listening. Actually listening. Really listening.

You’d thought it would feel like a relief, but instead, it was strange. You weren’t used to this version of Jake—the quiet one. The one who didn’t fill the silence with stories or pointless chatter. The one who was just… present.

It made you feel a little off-balance, unsure of how to act.

You hummed softly under your breath, trying to focus on the lesson without the usual distractions. The silence was deafening in its own way, but somehow, it felt… more comfortable. Even if it wasn’t what you were used to.

Jake looked up at you once, his eyes scanning your face, and you almost thought he was about to say something. But he just… nodded, his hand moving to scribble something in his notebook.

And for the rest of the session, you both worked in an unusual, almost peaceful quiet.

It was only then you realized how much you actually missed his constant noise.

The next day, as you were settling into your usual seat, Jake walked in with his usual easy stride, but this time, there was something different in his expression. It was a mixture of nervousness and excitement that didn’t quite match his usual laid-back energy.

He plopped down across from you and immediately opened his mouth. “Okay, so, random thought. I was thinking I should join an extracurricular.”

You raised an eyebrow, not sure where this was going. “You’re already in, like, five different things.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, but none of them are fun, you know? I need something that actually interests me.” His eyes lit up like he’d just found a hidden treasure. “I think I’m gonna join the debate club.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Debate club?”

“Yeah! I’ve been watching these debates online, and they look so intense. Plus, I bet I could totally crush it. I mean, I talk all the time, so why not make it official?”

You paused, leaning back in your chair. “You do talk a lot, don’t you?”

Jake grinned. “Exactly! It’s the perfect fit.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Well, if you’re serious about it, the debate team’s pretty good. They’re always looking for fresh blood.”

Jake leaned forward, looking a little unsure for the first time. “Yeah, but, uh… I really don’t want to end up being paired up with someone super serious. I need someone who gets it. Someone who won’t just stare at me when I’m trying to argue my point. You know, someone who won’t be super intense about it.”

You blinked. “And you think that’s going to be—?”

He grinned widely. “You. Obviously.”

You froze, caught off guard by his sudden confidence. “What? No way. I’m not gonna be your partner.”

Jake gave you a half-smirk. “Why not? You already know the material, you’re sharp. We could totally own this.”

You shook your head, still not entirely convinced. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We barely survive tutoring sessions without me losing my mind.”

Jake just shrugged, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Come on, it could be fun. I promise I won’t talk your ear off during debates. Maybe.”

You gave him a skeptical look but didn’t say much else, just hoping he’d drop it. You knew Jake—he had a way of pushing until he got what he wanted.

The next day, you walked into the debate club meeting with your usual sense of reluctance. As always, the board at the front of the room had a list of members, paired up for upcoming debates. You moved through the crowd, skimming the names until you saw it.

Your heart sank.

There, in neat black letters, were your names. Right beside each other.

Y/N and Jake.

You froze, your stomach doing a weird flip as you scanned the board again to make sure you weren’t seeing things. No. It was real.

You turned to look at Jake, who was standing a few feet away, his grin wide and completely unapologetic.

“See?” he said, winking at you as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “Told you we’d make a killer team.”

You groaned internally. This was going to be interesting—and not in the good way.

Trying to swallow down your frustration, you looked over at him. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

Jake just shrugged again, that damn grin still plastered on his face. “Well, now we have to do this. Might as well make the best of it, right?”

You stared at him for a long moment before sighing. “I guess.”

And so, with your names officially paired together on the board, you realized that this was going to be a whole new level of chaos you never saw coming.

The day you found out you were paired with Jake for the debate was a mess in itself, but the fact that it happened while you were on your period just made everything a hundred times worse. The usual irritation, the cramps, the exhaustion, and then—Jake—your perpetually loud, always-talking tutoring partner now also your debate team partner? It felt like the universe was conspiring against you.

You were sitting at the debate table with him, the rest of the team already getting into their discussions. You felt a headache coming on, your patience worn thin, and yet you were stuck with Jake, who was so eager about everything and so unbothered by your obvious lack of enthusiasm.

He had this unshakable grin on his face, his usual energy dialed up to an eleven as he enthusiastically listed off arguments for the topic. You could barely focus on anything but the mounting frustration. You could feel your blood simmering as he babbled about points, cutting through everything you wanted to say. You’d gotten the message—he liked to talk. You got it. He liked to talk a lot.

And here you were, forced to sit through it. For the first time, you had no patience left for his unfiltered commentary.

You had tried, at first, to engage—pointing out some key arguments and trying to follow the structure. But Jake wouldn’t let up. He kept interrupting, going off on tangents about how he absolutely knew his point was the best and why the opposition was always going to lose, not realizing he was starting to sound like a broken record.

The anger you’d been keeping inside all day from the stress of it all, the frustration, the lack of sleep—it just built and built.

“Jake,” you said, through clenched teeth, trying to stay calm. “Just focus. We have to make an actual case here.”

He grinned at you, unfazed. “Yeah, but listen, listen—hear me out, we can totally make this point sound better if we—”

You couldn’t even stand the way he kept cutting you off. His voice, his energy—it felt like it was bouncing off every surface of the room, and you were just… done.

So you did the only thing that was left in your power: you shut down.

You kept your eyes on the debate board, nodding absently to everything Jake said, too tired to argue, too angry to even care. The words didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. You let him drone on and on, tuning out every bit of his rambling, just letting his voice wash over you without hearing a single word.

“Y/N, you get me, right?” Jake said, clearly expecting some kind of enthusiastic response. He was waiting for validation, something you were so tired of giving him.

You just nodded, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah, sure.”

His grin only widened, but you couldn’t bring yourself to react. The words felt like they were bouncing off a wall. You just didn’t care.

He rambled about how the opposition would have no chance against their “undefeatable argument” or how his points would totally blow everyone away. And you just sat there, nodding, fighting the urge to snap and scream at him to shut up.

By the time the debate was winding down, you had become the very picture of indifference. Every time Jake threw out a new idea, you just nodded along, your face a mask of calm that belied the tornado of frustration swirling in your mind.

You weren’t going to argue. You weren’t going to get into it. You didn’t have the energy. It was the same as always—Jake talking, you tuning out, and this endless, looping cycle where you did all the work, and he filled the silence with whatever nonsense he thought was important.

When the debate ended and the team moved on, you finally let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Jake slapped you on the back, still grinning.

“That went well, right?” he said, full of excitement.

You nodded again, not trusting yourself to speak without snapping. “Yeah. Sure.”

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to defend yourself or argue with him. You had nothing left to give. You just wanted to leave, to go home, curl up with your book and forget that you ever had to share a space with a guy who never stopped talking.

Every single day, Jake never ran out of things to talk about. Not once. He’d start with random observations about the weather, then shift to a story about how he almost got kicked out of his favorite coffee shop because of his constant “misunderstanding” of their rules. Or maybe he’d talk about his old life in Australia, how he missed the beach and how “everything was way less complicated” back there. Then, it would spiral into a tangent about a movie he watched the night before, then his latest argument with his brother, then—somehow—back to chemistry. But the thing was, he never actually focused on the work. Not for long, anyway.

You would sit there, your pen poised over your notes, trying your best to stay focused on the lesson. But it was hard. Jake would say something about how the electrons were “basically like the ‘bad boys’ of atoms” and you’d just stare at him, caught in the ridiculousness of his comparison. Or maybe he’d start talking about how much he hated the new gym teacher, complaining about how strict she was and how he’d “get so much more out of it if she just let him talk a little more.”

And the more he talked, the more you realized you weren’t really paying attention to the chemistry anymore. You were just… listening. Listening to him. Watching the way his eyes sparkled when he was excited about something, how his lips would curl into that mischievous grin whenever he said something he thought was hilarious.

He had this way of making everything seem like an adventure, even the most mundane details. His Australian accent, with just the right amount of smoothness and charm, mixed with his Korean roots, was oddly soothing. It felt like he was always on the verge of cracking a joke, but somehow, it didn’t get annoying. It was just… him.

Somehow, you found yourself unwinding in his presence, even though you should’ve been getting work done. His voice, the way he gestured wildly with his hands when he was making a point, the way his hair fell in just the right way over his forehead—it all made it hard to focus on anything but him.

There were moments when you found yourself completely still, watching him talk, completely lost in his energy. It was like you couldn’t even think of a way to look away. Every word that came out of his mouth felt like it mattered, even if it was nonsense about some random celebrity gossip or how he thought pineapple didn’t belong on pizza (which you didn’t even agree with, but you just nodded along, letting him talk).

But then there were the whispers.

You heard them the first time when you were sitting in the library, working on a group project with Jake nearby. A few girls were gossiping behind you, their voices too low for anyone else to catch but not too quiet for you. “Do you think they’re dating? They’re always together.”

“Yeah, they’re always hanging out. I bet she likes him.”

You didn’t want to react to it. Didn’t want to give any of it attention, but it lingered in the back of your mind. You’d heard things like that before. You and Jake were always together, weren’t you? You tutored him. You were partners in debate. Of course, people would talk. But hearing it out loud, hearing people wonder about something that wasn’t even close to being true—it made you uncomfortable.

But what bothered you even more was how Jake never seemed to notice it. He was always talking, always oblivious, always too busy to hear the gossip that followed you two. And in some way, that made you even more irritated. Maybe he had no idea how much people were watching, how much they were speculating.

Still, you pushed it to the back of your mind. It didn’t matter. You had bigger things to focus on—like your grades, like your future, like everything but Jake and whatever these people thought. But as you stared at him—at the way he leaned in, totally absorbed in some random story about his childhood in Australia, his voice carrying with that same mix of confidence and humor—you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he really looked.

It wasn’t just that he had the sharp jawline or the way his eyes always glinted when he talked, but it was the way he was so himself. He was loud, he was chaotic, and for some weird reason, it made him kind of irresistible. The way he didn’t try to fit into anyone’s expectations, the way he was always so… unapologetically Jake.

And in that moment, you realized that, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t listening to him talk just because he was your tutoring partner or your debate teammate. You were listening because you wanted to. You were watching him, not just because he was talking, but because you couldn’t stop.

So, as he kept on with his never-ending stories and distractions, you sat there, still. The work in front of you forgotten, your focus entirely on him. You didn’t know what you were thinking or how you’d gotten here, but all you knew was that the longer he talked, the harder it became to look away.

The night before the debate, you sat at your desk, staring at the empty pages in front of you. Your textbooks were open, but your mind was elsewhere—mostly, on how much you hadn’t done. You should’ve been preparing, memorizing points, going over counterarguments, reviewing the outline. But instead, all you did was sit there for hours listening to Jake yap about everything under the sun, from his favorite video games to how he thought the new coffee shop in town was overrated. He’d talk about the dumbest things, and you’d listen, because, well, you couldn’t escape it. The more he talked, the less you cared about the debate material.

The clock ticked by, and you realized, with a sinking feeling, that you were completely unprepared. The debate was tomorrow. Tomorrow.

You rubbed your face with both hands in frustration. You had barely touched the material. It was all just Jake’s voice in your head—his stories, his jokes, his random rants—filling the spaces where your preparation should’ve been. You had nothing. No solid points. No real arguments. Just a head full of Jake.

When the day of the debate finally arrived, you felt like you were walking into a battlefield completely unarmed. You tried to do a last-minute run-through of the main ideas, but it was useless. Every time you tried to focus, you couldn’t help but think about how Jake would be his usual loud, distracting self.

And sure enough, when Jake walked into the room where you were supposed to prep for the debate, he started up immediately. He wasn’t even five seconds in the door before he was talking.

“Yo, did you see the new episode of that show I was telling you about last week? It’s like they finally listened to the fans, you know?” he said, completely oblivious to the anxious look on your face.

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the voice in your head screaming at you to focus. But it didn’t matter. Jake just kept talking. You barely even knew what he was saying anymore. His words were like background noise, a constant hum that made it impossible for you to concentrate.

“Jake!” you snapped, your patience snapping like a brittle twig. “Can you just stop for a minute?! I can’t even think with you yapping like that.”

He blinked, taken aback by the sudden outburst. “Whoa, what’s with the attitude?”

“What’s with your attitude?” you shot back, frustration bleeding into your voice. “I’m stressed, I’m unprepared, and all you do is talk! You’re making it worse. I’m trying to focus, but you won’t let me! I’m behind because of you!” You could feel the anger bubbling up from somewhere deep inside, everything you’d been holding in for so long now pouring out in one sharp burst. “You’re just so… annoying!”

The room fell silent, and you could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on you. Jake’s eyes widened for the first time, and there was a moment of stillness. He blinked, and then his usual cocky grin was gone. Instead, there was something sharper in his gaze.

“I’m annoying?” he shot back, voice rising for the first time. “What about you, huh? All you do is sit there and act like you’re so perfect, but I’ve been doing everything I can to help, to talk to you—to be your friend—and you barely even try! You don’t even care that I’m here. I’m just trying to help, but you keep acting like I’m the problem!”

For the first time ever, Jake wasn’t the one rambling aimlessly. He was serious, his tone harsh, and it caught you off guard. You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re not exactly all in either. So yeah, maybe I talk too much, maybe I annoy you—but at least I’m here, at least I’m trying!” His voice had a cutting edge to it. “You act like I’m dragging you down, but you never actually try to keep up. Maybe that’s why we’re behind. You’re never engaged, never focused. You don’t even care about this—you care about being annoyed.”

You were completely stunned into silence. For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped, like everyone was watching a car crash in slow motion. The room was completely still.

Then, from the back of the room, someone muttered, “Oh my God, just kiss already.”

You whipped your head toward the voice, heart pounding in your chest. It was the debate coach, shaking his head with a grin that wasn’t even trying to hide how amused he was by the tension.

A couple of people snickered, others exchanged awkward glances. You and Jake stood there, staring at each other, caught in this strange, new atmosphere that neither of you were quite prepared for. The sudden attention was enough to make your face flush with embarrassment, but it also gave you the clarity you needed. You realized you’d both been playing this ridiculous game for weeks, but now—now it was out in the open. And for once, neither of you could pretend like everything was fine. The cracks were visible.

For a second, you didn’t know what to say. But Jake, with his usual awkward grin, broke the silence.

“Guess we better actually start preparing, huh?” he said, his tone lighter but still laced with that underlying tension. “If we’re gonna be partnered up like this, I mean.”

You nodded, your chest tight, unsure of what to think or say next. “Yeah.”

And with that, the moment passed, but everything had changed. The debate was tomorrow, but now, you were facing something completely different—the lines between frustration, annoyance, and something else were blurrier than ever.

The next day of the debate came and went faster than you expected. You had been so focused on trying to get everything together that you had barely noticed the time passing. Surprisingly, you managed to get through the entire thing without completely falling apart. You were organized, you were prepared—and you had actually done all the work. Jake, true to form, spent most of the time talking about his ideas and rambling off thoughts that barely made sense, but you had managed to rein it in, turning his chatter into something halfway coherent. It felt like the work you’d been avoiding for weeks had come to fruition in a single, intense hour of debate.

Somehow, you won. The team won. And despite Jake’s non-stop talking, despite his distractibility, you pulled it off.

When the results were announced, you tried not to show how much relief flooded your system. You glanced at Jake, who was looking as stunned as you felt. You had done it.

As you walked to your locker afterward, head down, trying to process the fact that you’d somehow survived, you heard hurried footsteps behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Jake’s voice was unmistakable.

“You did it,” he said, breathless, catching up to you with a wide, triumphant grin. “We actually won!”

You couldn’t suppress the small wave of pride that crested in your chest, but you didn’t let it show too much. It was just another task done, another hurdle cleared. You should’ve felt accomplished—but you couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that everything was just a bit too chaotic.

Jake, however, was absolutely beaming, his eyes sparkling with excitement, clearly over the moon. And then, without any warning, he reached out and wrapped his arms around you in an enthusiastic, almost too tight hug. His head rested briefly on your shoulder, and for a second, you froze. It was awkward. It was too much. You could feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours, and it made your skin crawl, your stomach twist in discomfort. The kind of discomfort that made you want to shove him off, but you stayed still, not wanting to make a scene in the middle of the hallway.

“Seriously, I couldn’t have done it without you,” Jake said, pulling back, grinning widely.

You stepped back slightly, not sure what to do with yourself. “It’s fine. It was a team effort,” you muttered, trying to sound unaffected.

But then, just as you were about to turn back to your locker, you felt it—a tug at the corner of your lips. Before you could even process it, a small, involuntary smile crept onto your face. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was there.

You hated to admit it, but that moment—the hug—felt different. It wasn’t just Jake being his annoying, talkative self. It was something else. You didn’t know how to categorize it, but a part of you didn’t mind it as much as you thought you would. That small, unwelcome smile lingered for just a moment longer before you cleared your throat and turned your attention back to your locker.

“Whatever,” you muttered, pushing your books into your bag. “It’s over. We won. Let’s leave it at that.”

Jake didn’t seem to mind your coldness. If anything, he seemed even more amused by it. “You’re always so chill,” he teased, nudging you with his shoulder. “You don’t show it, but I know you’re happy we won.”

You couldn’t help the tiny roll of your eyes, but you were smiling, even if it was just a little bit. It was strange. You didn’t want to get used to it, didn’t want to think about why you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. But there was no denying it. Something had shifted.

You just didn’t know what.

The next few days felt like a blur. The debate was over, and somehow, against all odds, you and Jake had come out victorious. But that victory didn’t change the fact that your tutoring sessions with him were far from smooth sailing. You were nearing the end of the two remaining sessions you had agreed to, and despite your best intentions to stay focused, it was like nothing had changed. Jake still showed up late, still launched into tangents the second he sat down, still had that never-ending need to fill every silence with his voice.

At first, you tried to keep your patience in check, tried to redirect him to the material. You even tried muttering a few “focus, Jake”s under your breath, but it wasn’t long before you gave up. You stopped trying to manage him. You let him talk. Let him yap. And, strangely enough, you didn’t mind anymore.

As he rambled on about his annoying Gen Alpha brother, how he kept stealing his clothes and breaking his gaming consoles, you didn’t even bother pretending to care. Your pen rested idly in your hand as you stared at the pages in front of you, letting the words flow in one ear and out the other. You caught yourself watching him instead. You noticed the way his hands moved when he talked, the way he always seemed to forget what he was saying halfway through, only to quickly come up with another topic. His lips, his eyes, the way he ran a hand through his hair when he was trying to find the right word—it was all so… familiar now. It wasn’t annoying anymore. It was just him.

You hadn’t realized how much you were just listening until the silence suddenly hit. Jake, for once, had stopped talking.

You glanced up, your gaze catching his, and you noticed something different in his expression. It wasn’t the usual easygoing grin or cocky smirk. It was something more subdued, more thoughtful. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The air felt thick with that kind of tension that usually accompanied an unspoken question.

“Why are you staring at me?” Jake asked suddenly, breaking the quiet with a soft laugh, though there was something almost vulnerable in his voice.

You blinked, caught off guard by his question. You hadn’t even realized you were staring.

“I—I wasn’t staring,” you muttered, suddenly aware of how hot your face was. But it didn’t matter, because you couldn’t look away. He was staring at you now, too. It was like a silent challenge, something you couldn’t quite place but felt undeniably real.

There was a brief silence as you both just… stared. Neither of you moved, neither of you spoke. You weren’t sure if it was because you were finally noticing something you hadn’t before, or because there was something you were both avoiding.

Finally, Jake broke the silence again, this time in a quieter tone. “You know, you don’t always have to pretend you don’t care about me, right?”

Your breath hitched at the unexpected words. For a moment, you thought about snapping something sarcastic, something to deflect. But then you realized that the words felt different coming from him. They didn’t carry the usual teasing lilt. They were softer. Almost… uncertain.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for the first time in weeks, you were struck by the thought that maybe you didn’t have all the answers. Maybe it wasn’t just Jake talking anymore. Maybe it was something else entirely. Something you didn’t quite know how to handle. You stared at him for another moment, the words sitting on the tip of your tongue, but all you could do was swallow them back down.

Instead, you just nodded, a simple acknowledgment. “Yeah. Maybe.”

And with that, the moment passed. Jake’s grin slowly returned, and you both fell back into the rhythm you had known so well. He resumed his rambling, but this time, you didn’t fight it. You just… listened.

The tutoring session had ended, and you packed up your things with the usual methodical precision, still processing everything that had happened. Jake was nowhere to be seen, probably chatting with someone or off doing something else, as he always did. You stood in front of your desk, organizing your notes, trying not to think about how strange the last hour had felt. It was different than usual—less frustrating, maybe even a little… comfortable? But you weren’t ready to unpack that yet.

As you gathered your things, you heard the faint sound of footsteps outside the classroom. You glanced up, spotting Sunoo, who was leaning casually against the doorframe, waiting for Jake. He gave you a quick smile, but it didn’t last long before he turned his attention back down the hallway.

“Hey, you,” Sunoo called to Jake as he appeared in the doorway. “Ready to go for your early birthday dinner?”

Jake waved him off, flashing a quick grin. “Yeah, yeah, just a second. I gotta grab my stuff,” he said, his voice distracted.

Sunoo crossed his arms, leaning back into the doorframe and flashing a mischievous grin. “You’re awfully distracted today. Been talking to Y/N a little too much, huh?”

Jake froze, almost imperceptibly, and glanced back at Sunoo with a raised brow. “What?” he asked, faking innocence, but the hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

Sunoo’s grin only grew wider, clearly teasing now. “I don’t know, man. You’ve been acting… different. Like, every time I see you after tutoring, you’re all smiley and weird. What, do you like her or something?”

Jake’s expression shifted, and for a brief moment, he looked almost… unsure. He glanced down at the floor, his hands in his pockets, but then he looked up at Sunoo with a small, almost sheepish grin.

“I think I do,” he murmured softly, just enough for Sunoo to catch the words, his tone quieter than usual.

Sunoo’s eyes widened slightly, his lips curling into a smile. “Oh? Ohhhh, so that’s what’s going on.” His voice was light, but his eyes held a knowing gleam. “You might wanna figure that out, man.”

Jake’s response was lost in a brief moment of hesitation, but he didn’t argue. He simply gave a small shrug. “Let’s just go, alright? We’ll talk later.”

Sunoo nodded, clearly still amused, and without missing a beat, he turned back toward the hallway. Jake followed him, and as they walked down the corridor, they began chatting about something else entirely, and the sound of their voices faded as they made their way toward the stairs.

You, however, had been too busy packing your things to hear anything more than a few quiet words exchanged between them. You didn’t catch what Sunoo had said. You didn’t hear the soft confession that Jake had made to him.

For you, the moment passed like everything else—leaving you to continue your life with no idea that something had shifted between you and Jake.

The next day, when Jake showed up for tutoring, something was different. It wasn’t the usual loud, chaotic energy he brought into the room, the constant stream of words that filled every quiet space. Today, he was quieter—not the usual loud, distracted Jake, but something more… subdued. He still had that confident, easygoing aura, but he wasn’t talking just for the sake of talking. It was almost like he was holding back, like he had something on his mind but wasn’t sure whether to say it.

You glanced up from your notes when he sat down across from you, his eyes a little more focused, but there was something in the way he was fidgeting with his pen that made you feel like he wasn’t entirely present. It wasn’t the normal Jake you’d gotten used to—the one who would drop a random fact or ask a weird question out of nowhere. He was… different today. Still there, but quieter. Almost as if he was waiting for something.

For a while, the two of you just worked in silence. You, flipping through your notes, trying to make sense of everything you were supposed to know for the upcoming test. Jake, scribbling away on his homework, but it was clear his mind wasn’t entirely on the assignment.

Finally, after what felt like a long stretch of silence, Jake cleared his throat.

“Hey, so, um…” he started, his voice a little hesitant, an unfamiliar shift in his tone. You looked up from your paper, sensing the change in his demeanor. He hesitated for a moment, eyes darting around the room, before meeting your gaze. “I was wondering… you know, my birthday dinner is tonight, and, uh… well, I thought maybe you’d want to come.”

You blinked at him, surprised. It wasn’t like Jake to ask you directly about something personal, and even more so, it was strange that he was asking you to join him at his birthday dinner. You weren’t the type for parties. You didn’t even like them, to be honest. You preferred quiet nights, your routine, your space.

“I… I don’t really do parties,” you replied, shrugging slightly, trying to keep your tone neutral. “I’m not really into big social gatherings.”

Jake, however, wasn’t deterred. His eyes softened, and you could see that he wasn’t about to drop it that easily.

“Come on,” he said, his voice taking on a playful, almost pleading tone. “It’ll be fun! Just for a little bit. You don’t even have to stay long, I promise. It’s just a small dinner with my friends… and… you know, I kind of want you to be there.”

His words caught you off guard, more than you’d like to admit. Jake, being the charismatic guy he was, didn’t beg. He wasn’t the type to be earnest about stuff like this. But now, with that small, almost shy grin on his face, and the way he was looking at you—almost like he was unsure of how to convince you—it was hard to say no.

You felt the tug of guilt. You knew he was just asking because he wanted you to be there—maybe even needed you to be there—and it was difficult to shake that thought.

“I really don’t know…” you started, but before you could finish, Jake jumped in, his voice becoming more determined.

“Please, Y/N,” he said, his eyes bright with that familiar spark. “Just this once. I swear I’ll make it worth your while. You can even leave early if you want. But, uh, it’d really mean a lot to me if you came.”

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair, feeling the pressure of his request weighing on you. It was just one night, one dinner. It wouldn’t hurt, right?

You let out a sigh, caving in. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Jake’s grin lit up, and you could practically see the relief flood through him. “Yes!” He immediately sat up straighter, looking way too pleased with himself. “It’s going to be fun. I promise. I’ll make sure it’s not boring.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips, despite yourself. “Alright, alright, I’m going. But don’t expect me to stay long.”

Jake chuckled, nodding enthusiastically. “Deal! I’ll make sure it’s short and sweet.”

And with that, the air between you two lightened once more. You could still feel that odd shift in the way Jake was acting today, but you pushed it to the back of your mind for now. You had given in, and you’d show up.

After all, it was his birthday.

You had no idea what to get Jake. You’d spent the last two hours walking around the mall, looking at store after store, trying to figure out what someone like him would even want. Jake was… well, Jake. He was loud, unpredictable, and always seemed to have everything figured out. He had everything you could think of: clothes, gadgets, sneakers—there was nothing obvious that you could buy him. You didn’t know him well enough to pick something meaningful, and you couldn’t just pick up something random and hope it worked. What did a guy like him even like?

Your mind raced, and as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself getting more and more frustrated. You checked your watch—two hours until his birthday dinner, and you still had nothing. Your phone buzzed with a reminder: “Get something for Jake!”

I’m trying, okay? you thought, shoving the phone back into your bag.

You had already bought a new top, a light pink short-sleeve shirt, hoping to look cute but not overdo it. It was casual, but still nice enough for dinner. You’d paired it with a simple white skirt—something you could move comfortably in, without feeling overdressed. You even styled your hair, which was rare for you. It felt like too much effort, but for some reason, today, you actually wanted to look… well, pretty. You wanted to look like you had at least tried.

But as you walked through the mall for the second time, your energy started to wane. The buzz of the crowd, the brightly lit stores, and the overwhelming number of options were draining. You stopped in front of a display with colorful mugs and keychains, wondering if maybe something small and quirky would be the right choice. But as you picked up a keychain shaped like a gaming controller, you immediately put it back. No way.

You checked your watch again. You had no time to overthink it anymore. You just had to pick something.

Ugh, why is this so hard?

You felt yourself getting more and more exhausted with every step. Your feet ached from walking so much, and the pressure of getting Jake’s gift just right was starting to eat at you. You glanced down at your outfit. The light pink shirt and white skirt felt okay—cute enough, but what if it was too much for a casual dinner? What if it was too little? You sighed, shaking your head.

You were halfway across the mall now, eyes scanning the stores around you, when you spotted a small boutique tucked in a corner. Maybe, just maybe, there would be something in there. You took a deep breath and walked toward it, hoping this wouldn’t be another disappointment.

You had no clue what Jake really wanted. You didn’t know what was cool for a guy like him. But you were determined to figure it out.

You just hoped you wouldn’t have to walk around the mall for another hour.

As you walked through the boutique, your mind kept wandering back to Jake’s offhand comment a few days ago. You remembered him telling you, between rants about his annoying little brother and his hectic school life, about his dog, Layla. His eyes had softened as he talked about her—there was something about the way he spoke that told you just how much he missed her.

“She’s a Border Collie,” Jake had said, smiling wistfully. “Back in Australia… She’s a good dog, always hyper and, like, way smarter than me. I swear she knows exactly what I’m thinking half the time. I miss her a lot.”

You remembered the way his voice had trailed off, as if the thought of his dog—so far away now—was too painful to fully dive into. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time. But now, as you browsed through the small boutique, the memory of his words stuck with you.

The shop was full of delicate trinkets, little charms hanging from gold and silver chains. You walked past a display case filled with bracelets, each more charming than the last. Your fingers grazed the edges of the glass as you looked over them, and that’s when something caught your eye. A simple bracelet—gold, with a tiny charm hanging from it.

It was small and delicate, but the charm was unmistakable. The letter “L” was etched into the metal, accompanied by a small, detailed charm shaped like a dog’s paw. A Border Collie’s paw, if you looked closely enough.

You stopped dead in your tracks.

Your heart skipped a beat as the realization hit you. The bracelet was perfect. It wasn’t too flashy, just subtle enough that it wouldn’t draw too much attention, but meaningful. A little nod to Layla, Jake’s dog—something that would remind him of home and the bond he shared with her.

You felt a small smile tug at your lips as you gently picked up the bracelet, your fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the letter “L”. It felt right. The weight of it in your hand seemed to settle all the nerves that had been gnawing at you for the past few hours. This was the gift. You didn’t need to search anymore.

For a brief moment, you found yourself imagining Jake’s reaction—his face lighting up when he saw it, maybe a little surprised, maybe even touched. You thought back to the way he had looked when he mentioned Layla, and you could almost hear the fondness in his voice. It felt like the right thing to do.

With a small sigh of relief, you walked up to the counter and paid for the bracelet, feeling a sense of satisfaction that you hadn’t expected. It wasn’t some grand gesture, but you were pretty sure it would mean something to him.

You hoped it would be enough.

You arrived at the restaurant a little later than expected—traffic had been a nightmare. Your phone had buzzed multiple times, notifications from Jake, probably wondering where you were, but you’d been too caught up in the mess of cars and honking horns to reply. By the time you walked through the doors, you were sure you were the last person to arrive.

The restaurant was buzzing with the chatter of diners, the smoky smell of sizzling meat hanging in the air. As your eyes scanned the room, you immediately spotted Jake, sitting at a table with a couple of unfamiliar faces. You didn’t recognize them at first, but they were laughing and talking comfortably, clearly already deep into their meal. Sunoo and Jay were there too, sitting beside Jake, looking over at you as you approached.

Jake caught your eye right away. He straightened up, but when he saw you, there was a small flicker of surprise that crossed his face, followed by a look of relief. He had probably assumed you weren’t coming.

“Oh, hey! You made it!” he called out, his voice bright and welcoming, as if he hadn’t been quietly wondering where you’d been all this time.

The two unfamiliar faces turned their attention to you. One was a tall guy with sharp features and a friendly smile, the other a girl with short hair and an easygoing demeanor. They both looked at you, curious but polite. It was clear that they didn’t expect you to be showing up at all, and when they saw you, their expressions turned into warm but surprised greetings.

“Ah, you’re here!” the tall guy said with a smile, waving you over. “We thought you weren’t going to make it.”

You smiled awkwardly, shrugging a little as you made your way to the table. “Yeah, traffic was terrible. Sorry I’m late.”

Jake slid over, making room for you next to him, his usual grin back in full force. “No problem,” he said. “Come join us. This is Minho,” he pointed to the guy, who gave you a friendly nod, “and this is Jisoo,” he pointed to the girl, who smiled warmly. “They’re both friends from my class.”

You sat down, grateful for the space they’d made for you, and immediately noticed that Sunoo and Jay seemed more interested in you than they had before. They were watching you closely, but trying not to be obvious about it. Sunoo, of course, was already smirking, and Jay seemed just as relaxed as usual, giving you a wink as you settled in.

“Glad you could join us,” Jay said, his tone playful. “We were starting to think Jake might have to eat all the food by himself.”

Jake rolled his eyes, clearly used to their teasing. “Shut up, Jay. I’m not that bad.”

The mood around the table lightened as the conversation shifted to something else, but you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place with these new faces. It was Jake’s birthday, and it felt like you were crashing a party with his closest friends. You knew you were just there for dinner, but it was still a little strange to be sitting with people you hadn’t really spoken to before.

Still, you didn’t mind the warmth in the air. The laughter from the others, the clink of chopsticks against the grill, and Jake’s usual boisterous energy made the whole experience feel easier than expected. It wasn’t so bad. Maybe this would end up being fun, despite everything you had thought going into it.

And for a second, you even forgot the pressure of being there at all. You were just… part of the group.

As the night wore on, the conversation around the table flowed easily, with Jake and his friends joking, laughing, and digging into the sizzling Korean BBQ. You were starting to relax, the initial awkwardness melting away with every bite of meat and every passing moment. The more you watched Jake, the more you couldn’t help but smile. He was clearly enjoying himself, surrounded by his friends, his laughter ringing out across the table.

At some point, when the meal had slowed down a bit and everyone was lounging back in their chairs, you realized it was time.

You reached into your bag, your fingers brushing the small box that held Jake’s gift. You’d been holding onto it since the moment you bought it, unsure of the best moment to give it to him. The thought of handing it over felt a little nerve-wracking, but something in you told you it was the right time.

Jake was leaning back in his chair, talking with Minho about some new video game, and you noticed how relaxed he looked—like the weight of school and everything else was lifted off his shoulders for the moment. You bit your lip, then stood up from your seat, drawing a few curious glances from his friends.

“Jake,” you called quietly, your voice just a bit more hesitant than you intended. He looked up, meeting your gaze, and you saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes as you walked toward him.

“Hey,” you started, feeling your heart rate pick up just a little. “I, uh, I got you something.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting this. His face lit up in that usual mischievous grin. “Oh? What is it? I wasn’t expecting a gift, you know.”

You handed him the small box, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. “Well, I know it’s not much, but… I thought you’d like it.”

Jake paused for a moment, looking down at the box in his hands. There was a flicker of curiosity in his expression as he carefully untied the ribbon and opened it. His eyes scanned the bracelet inside, the charm catching the light, and for a moment, he just stared at it, quiet.

“Layla,” he murmured, almost to himself. “This… this is perfect. How did you—?”

You watched him closely, noting the softness that appeared in his eyes. For the first time that night, he seemed genuinely touched. His grin softened as he looked up at you, a little sheepish, as if he hadn’t expected you to notice how much he missed his dog.

“I talked about her, didn’t I?” Jake said, his voice low but with a light chuckle, his fingers gently tracing the letter “L” and the dog charm. “You really listened.”

You shrugged a little, feeling that familiar awkwardness creep back up, but you didn’t mind as much. “I guess… I remember you saying how much you missed her. I thought it’d be a nice way to remind you of home.”

Jake’s smile grew wider, and for a second, it was like his usual confident self was replaced with something softer, something realer. He met your eyes, and for the briefest moment, the playful tension that always hung between you two seemed to fade.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice sincere. “This means a lot to me. Honestly.”

You nodded, unsure of what else to say. His reaction had caught you a little off guard, but it was good to see him this way—appreciative, genuine.

As the evening continued, the gift was set aside, but you could see Jake glance at it now and then, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. You didn’t need anything more than that—a small, unexpected connection, and the quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, things between the two of you weren’t as complicated as they seemed.

At least, not always.

As the night went on, the laughter and chatter continued, and soon, the attention shifted toward the cake. It was a beautifully decorated strawberry shortcake, something you figured Jake probably enjoyed. His friends had all gathered around it, their voices rising in excitement as they prepared to sing. The lights dimmed slightly, and the room filled with the sounds of birthday cheers and the soft hum of the group’s collective enthusiasm.

“Happy birthday to you!” they all sang, their voices blending together in cheerful harmony. Everyone except you, that is.

You stood at the edge of the group, quietly observing. You had no interest in singing along—maybe it was the awkwardness of being around people you didn’t know very well, maybe it was just because you preferred to keep to yourself. Either way, you didn’t sing. Instead, you simply stood there, clapping softly along with the others, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you watched Jake. His eyes were bright with amusement, a wide grin stretching across his face as he blew out the candles, making a wish you could only guess at.

Jake was so caught up in the moment that he didn’t notice your quiet distance, but his friends did. Sunoo shot you a look, his usual teasing expression now replaced with something softer, a slight curiosity in his eyes. You didn’t really care though; you had no intention of drawing attention to yourself.

When the song finished, everyone clapped and laughed, and Jake’s friends immediately dug into the cake, passing pieces around. You took a small plate, accepting your slice with a polite nod, but you stayed quiet. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be part of the celebration, it was just… you didn’t really know how to navigate it all. Being around Jake’s friends, people you barely knew, in the middle of this cheerful scene—it all felt like too much sometimes.

Jake caught your eye for a split second, noticing how you’d stayed quiet through the whole thing. But instead of teasing you or asking why you weren’t singing, he just gave you a small, genuine smile. It wasn’t the usual loud grin you were used to, but something different—a quiet understanding.

You felt a warmth spread through you, something unspoken between the two of you in that brief moment. But then, the moment passed, and Jake was already moving on to joke with Minho, and you were back to standing off to the side, quietly watching the rest of the party unfold.

You may not have been the loudest or the center of attention, but in that moment, you were fine with that. You didn’t need to be. You had the soft smiles, the quiet nods, and the connection that had been slowly building with Jake. And that was enough for now.

“Happy birthday to you!” they all sang, their voices blending together in cheerful harmony. Everyone except you, that is.

As the party wound down, the once lively chatter began to dwindle. People filtered out one by one, bidding Jake a cheerful goodbye, some slinging playful goodbyes as they waved. Sunoo and Jay were the last to leave, both of them giving Jake a ruffle of the hair and teasing him about the night. Sunoo shot you a wink as he passed by, but you simply nodded, offering a polite smile.

Once they were all gone, the atmosphere in the room shifted. It wasn’t as loud or chaotic anymore. The music had turned down low, the cake had been mostly eaten, and the remnants of a once-bustling party now sat quietly on the table—empty cups, a few crumpled napkins, and the last of the leftover snacks scattered about.

Jake, who had been the life of the party just moments ago, was now sitting back on the couch, looking at his phone. He was alone now, too—save for you, still sitting at the edge of the room, sipping on your drink, having not really said much in the last hour.

You weren’t sure why you stayed. You could’ve easily made up some excuse and slipped out when the others did. But something made you linger, almost as if you didn’t want to leave just yet. Maybe it was the quietness of the room, or maybe it was the fact that it felt like, for once, the two of you didn’t have to be anything. You didn’t have to talk loudly, you didn’t have to keep up with the jokes or banter. You could just… be.

Jake looked up from his phone, catching your eye as you sat there, lost in your thoughts. For a moment, neither of you said anything. There was just the soft hum of the room, the quiet after all the noise.

“Everyone’s gone, huh?” Jake finally said, his voice breaking the silence. He was leaning back, his expression more relaxed than you’d seen all night. He didn’t look as animated or hyper now—just like a normal guy, unwinding after his celebration.

“Yeah,” you said softly, looking around the room. “Looks like it.”

Jake sat up, shifting to face you more directly. There was something different in the way he looked at you now—maybe it was the quiet of the room, or maybe the night was winding down, but you could tell he wasn’t just looking at you as his study partner or the girl he’d been tutoring with. There was something… more there. Something unspoken, lingering between the two of you.

“You didn’t really join in much, did you?” Jake asked, a bit of a teasing edge to his voice, though it wasn’t as lighthearted as it had been earlier. His gaze softened a little as he spoke. “You’re not really the party type, huh?”

You shrugged, not quite meeting his gaze. “Not really.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, but it wasn’t the same kind of tension that had existed before. It was quieter—almost understanding. You could tell Jake wasn’t pushing you, but he was curious, trying to figure you out, in his own way.

“I get it,” he said after a pause, leaning back into the couch again, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. “I’m not exactly a fan of huge crowds either. But… I’m glad you came.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You just nodded, offering him a small smile.

It was strange, being here with just him. After all the noise, the laughter, and the teasing, it felt like the two of you were in your own little world now—just the quiet of the room and the soft thrum of unspoken words between you.

“So,” Jake said, breaking the silence again with that familiar lopsided grin, “what now?”

You weren’t sure what to say. There was something almost comfortable in the way you were sitting there, not needing to fill the air with words. So, you just shrugged, still quietly smiling.

“I don’t know,” you replied. “Maybe we just… hang out a little longer?”

Jake’s grin softened into something more genuine as he leaned forward, stretching his arms out. “I like that idea.”

The night stretched on, but you weren’t in any rush to leave. For once, you didn’t mind the silence, and you didn’t feel like you needed to say anything more than what had already been said.

It wasn’t anything grand or dramatic. But, for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were exactly where you needed to be.

The streets were quiet as the two of you walked side by side, the hum of the city’s nightlife echoing in the distance, but the air around you felt peaceful. The kind of peaceful that happens when the world around you seems to disappear, leaving just the two of you walking in comfortable silence.

You hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten. The hour had slipped away quietly between small conversations and moments of quiet. Now, here you were, walking in the cool night air, the dim glow of streetlights casting long shadows across the sidewalk.

Jake had been unusually quiet on the walk back. Normally, he’d be talking non-stop about something—something random, something funny, or something that caught his attention. But tonight, there was a strange silence hanging between you two, and you couldn’t quite place why.

When you reached the corner of your street, where you usually split off from each other, Jake stopped walking. You kept going for a couple of steps before realizing he wasn’t beside you anymore. Turning, you looked back at him, confused.

“Jake?” you asked, your voice softer than usual.

He was standing there, his hands shoved into his pockets, staring down at the ground for a moment, clearly thinking. There was an air of uncertainty about him—something you weren’t used to seeing in Jake. Normally, he was so sure of himself, so loud and unbothered by what people thought. But now? He looked almost… nervous?

“Hey,” he began, his voice low and hesitant. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “What’s up?”

He took a deep breath, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I… I’m not really good at saying this kind of stuff,” he continued, his words stumbling a bit as if he was choosing each one carefully. “But, uh, I guess I’ve been thinking about it for a while. And I don’t know how to say it without sounding… well, like an idiot, but…” He paused again, running a hand through his hair, his gaze now focused on the ground.

You stood there, not sure what to say. The tension in the air was thick, and suddenly, the simple walk home felt a little heavier.

“I like you,” Jake finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked up at you again, his face a little flushed, his expression uncertain. “I don’t know when it happened, or why, but… I think I do.”

For a moment, you were silent, your mind racing. Your heart skipped a beat. You had no idea how to respond. The words caught in your throat, and you stood there, staring at him, not sure whether to speak or just… let the silence settle.

Jake’s gaze shifted as the seconds ticked by, clearly waiting for you to say something. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The shock was too much, and the weight of his confession was suddenly overwhelming.

He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly unsure of how to handle the silence between you two. “I know this is… unexpected,” he continued, his voice a little more rushed now. “And I know we’ve had our moments, but… I just had to tell you. I couldn’t keep pretending it wasn’t there.”

You felt your pulse quicken, your breath caught in your chest. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond, or what this meant for the two of you. The shock of his confession left you speechless. It wasn’t that you didn’t feel something for him—something you hadn’t quite figured out yet—but this? This was unexpected. It threw you off.

You wanted to say something, anything, to fill the silence. But all you could manage was a quiet exhale, standing there frozen as you processed the weight of his words.

Jake didn’t seem to know what to do either. He ran a hand through his hair again, and the tension in his posture told you just how uncomfortable he felt now. “You don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly, almost too quickly. “I just wanted you to know. I—yeah. I think that’s all.”

The silence stretched on, and you could feel the weight of his confession still hanging in the air. You wanted to respond, but nothing seemed right. What were you supposed to say to something like that?

After a moment, Jake shifted uncomfortably again, looking like he regretted saying anything at all. “Uh, I’ll let you go,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost as if he was trying to avoid looking at you. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

He turned to leave, but you didn’t move. You stood frozen, your mind still racing, trying to process the fact that Jake—loud, talkative, always so confident Jake—had just told you something that you hadn’t been prepared for.

He stopped for a moment and turned back slightly, glancing at you. “If you want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing there, alone in the cool night air, trying to figure out what had just happened.

You didn’t move for a while. You just stood there, caught in the whirlwind of emotions that his confession had stirred up. What now?

The next day, you didn’t show up to school. The quiet, anxious feeling from Jake’s confession still lingered, and you didn’t want to face anyone, especially him. You needed time to process it all, to figure out how to even act around him after what he’d said. But despite not being there, somehow, Jake had passed his test. It didn’t make sense to you, considering how little you had actually done in your tutoring sessions. But then again, you didn’t really understand how Jake operated.

Your phone buzzed with messages from him—texts that you ignored. You weren’t ready to respond yet. The last thing you wanted to deal with was his incessant talking, not after last night. But despite your silence, Jake kept trying to reach you.

And then, there he was, standing at your front door.

You weren’t expecting him to show up at your house, especially not after everything that had happened. But there he was, standing awkwardly on your porch, looking at you with an apologetic expression.

“Y/N, hey,” Jake started, his voice quiet but still carrying that familiar nervous energy. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird. I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about what I said yesterday, and I figured I should apologize. I’ve been trying to text you, but I guess you didn’t get them…”

You didn’t know how to react. The last thing you wanted was him here, standing in front of you, talking to you about something that had been running through your mind over and over again. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could do was stand there and blink, lost for words.

“Jake,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. It felt odd saying his name out loud, like your thoughts had finally caught up with the reality of the situation.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Jake continued, his words rushing out like they always did. “I mean, I didn’t want to mess things up, and I thought maybe—”

“Jake!” you interrupted, your voice a little sharper now, unable to handle the constant stream of words he was throwing at you.

He froze for a moment, blinking at you in surprise, clearly not expecting you to snap at him like that. “Sorry,” he said, giving you a sheepish smile, but still not stopping. “I just… I just thought maybe we could talk it out, you know? I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or—”

Before he could finish, you stepped forward, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and pulling him towards you. You didn’t even think about it, you just did it. And then, before he could say another word, you kissed him.

It was a quick kiss, but it felt like everything—like all the thoughts you had been too scared to say and all the confusion you had been carrying suddenly just dissolved. You pulled away just as quickly, your breath uneven, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jake was silent for a moment, his eyes wide with surprise, his mouth slightly open.

“You’re so noisy,” you said, your voice softer now, but with a certain sharpness behind it. It was the first time you’d said anything since he’d shown up, and it felt like a weight lifting off your shoulders.

He blinked at you, clearly processing what had just happened. And for the first time in the entire conversation, Jake was silent. There was no rambling, no endless chatter. Just the quiet between the two of you, filling the space in a way that felt… right.

“I—” he started, but then, he stopped, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Guess I deserved that.”

You didn’t say anything else. You just stood there, feeling a little calmer now, a little more grounded. Jake had finally quieted down, and somehow, you felt like things might just be okay.

You stood there for a moment, your pulse still racing from the kiss, unsure of what to do next. Jake, however, didn’t seem to notice your hesitation. His eyes sparkled with that usual energy of his, though there was something different in them now—something softer.

“So… does this mean you, like, like me back or something?” he asked, his voice a little too hopeful, but still managing to sound just a little bit teasing.

You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could get a word out, he continued, rambling as always. “I mean, I get it if you don’t know yet, and we can take things slow, but I just—”

You couldn’t take it anymore.

Without thinking, you grabbed his face, pulling him toward you again, and kissed him. This time, it was longer, deeper, more deliberate. You didn’t let him talk, just focused on the feeling of his lips against yours, trying to silence the chaos in your own mind that had been building for days. When you pulled away, both of you breathless, you finally managed to speak.

“Shut up, Jake,” you said, your voice low but firm, as you pulled back slightly and gave him a pointed look.

Jake blinked, clearly stunned for a second, but then that familiar grin spread across his face again. He chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t know whether to be mad or flattered right now.”

You just gave him a small smirk in response. “Maybe you should be both.”

The teasing glint in his eyes was back. “Guess I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then?”

You rolled your eyes and stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. “Come inside, Jake. We need to talk about what’s going on here… after you stop talking for five minutes.”

Jake grinned wider. “That’s a big ask, but I’ll try my best.”

You raised an eyebrow, leading him inside. “Good luck with that.”

Once inside, you motioned for Jake to sit down on the couch. He shuffled in, still grinning like an idiot, looking at you with that same mischievous gleam in his eyes. You sat down on the opposite side, trying to create some space, but it wasn’t doing much to cool the heat you could still feel between you two.

Jake plopped down, still practically bouncing on the couch. “So, does this mean I get to talk now, or…?” he trailed off, his gaze mischievous as ever.

You sighed and rubbed your temples, trying to stave off the inevitable flood of words that was about to come. “You can talk, Jake, but just—” You paused, unsure of how to phrase it. “Just listen for a second. Let’s figure this out, okay?”

“Alright, alright, I’ll try to be quiet,” he said, though his grin suggested he wasn’t sure he could actually pull it off.

You took a deep breath, trying to sort through your thoughts. “I don’t know what this is yet. I don’t know what it means, and I’m still figuring things out… but you’re really distracting, you know that?”

Jake blinked, looking a little surprised at your admission. “Distracting? How?”

You shot him a half-smile. “You talk non-stop. You’re loud. You’re… everywhere. And honestly, I didn’t know how to handle it, especially after last night.” You paused. “But, I also don’t mind it… when you’re not talking about something completely random.”

Jake, for the first time in forever, sat still. His usual energy seemed to fade just a little, and he looked at you carefully, like he was actually trying to understand what you were saying. “You don’t mind me being loud?”

You shook your head. “No. Well, sometimes. But not always.” You sighed again, rubbing your forehead. “It’s just… you have this way about you. I don’t know. I didn’t expect any of this.”

Jake leaned forward, a bit more serious now, his eyes softening. “You’re kind of making me blush here,” he said, a small laugh escaping his lips. But there was no teasing in his voice this time, just a genuine warmth that made your chest tighten slightly.

You tilted your head, studying him. “I’m just trying to be honest. It’s hard to keep up with you sometimes, Jake. But I… I guess I’ve been keeping up with you more than I thought. And now, I don’t know what to do with it.”

He leaned back on the couch, his posture softening, as if he was absorbing your words. “Well,” he said after a moment, “I guess it’s a good thing I’m good at keeping up with you, then.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling, but now it wasn’t just his usual grin—it was a soft, genuine smile, like he was letting you see the real him. “I think so.”

The air between you two wasn’t as tense anymore, and that uncomfortable feeling you’d had since his confession seemed to slowly fade away. There was something calming about the way Jake was looking at you now, no longer rambling on about random things, but just being present with you.

“Alright,” you said, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “But I still think you talk way too much.”

Jake chuckled, his grin returning. “You don’t mind,” he said, teasing, but with that same sincerity behind it. “And besides, you’ll get used to it.”

You stared at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I guess I will.”

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t neatly tied up in a bow. But it was something—something between the two of you that felt like it could be the start of whatever came next.

And then, there he was, standing at your front door.

“Jake,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. It felt odd saying his name out loud, like your thoughts had finally caught up with the reality of the situation.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Jake continued, his words rushing out like they always did. “I mean, I didn’t want to mess things up, and I thought maybe—”

“Jake!” you interrupted, your voice a little sharper now, unable to handle the constant stream of words he was throwing at you.

Jake was silent for a moment, his eyes wide with surprise, his mouth slightly open.

“I—” he started, but then, he stopped, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Guess I deserved that.”

You didn’t say anything else. You just stood there, feeling a little calmer now, a little more grounded. Jake had finally quieted down, and somehow, you felt like things might just be okay.

You sat there, quiet, the stillness between you two finally feeling like something that made sense. Jake shifted on the couch, his usual energy still present, but there was something different about it now. A softness.

“Oh, and,” he said suddenly, almost shy, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “I forgot to tell you yesterday… you looked really pretty.”

You blinked, a little surprised. You hadn’t expected him to say that. You didn’t even know how to respond. You weren’t used to compliments, and you weren’t about to start talking a lot now. Instead, you just looked at him, mildly flustered.

He seemed to notice your silence and rushed to explain, his words tumbling out. “I mean, you look good every day, obviously, but yesterday, I don’t know—there was something about you. Maybe it was just the way you were dressed? You know, the pink shirt and everything? It really suited you, and I just thought you looked… I don’t know, different. But in a good way.” He shrugged, his grin widening as he looked at you. “You know what I mean?”

You were quiet for a moment, processing. Finally, you managed to smile slightly, not really knowing how to express what you were thinking. “Not every day, though,” you said quietly, the words barely above a whisper.

Jake, of course, didn’t seem to notice the hint of teasing in your voice. He was still going on about what he’d said, completely oblivious to your quieter response. “Yeah, but like, I mean—wait, did I say not every day? I didn’t mean it like that! You always look good, but yesterday—well, you know what I mean, right?” He paused, but when you didn’t immediately reply, he launched right back into it. “I guess it was just that moment, like, when I saw you yesterday… you had this vibe, this energy. I don’t know if I can explain it, but it just felt like you were different than the usual, like, I don’t know, more confident or something, and—”

You stopped him with a small shake of your head, still not saying much. You just couldn’t keep up with his constant talking, but at this point, you were used to it. It was just Jake being Jake.

You were content to sit quietly, letting him talk, even if you were barely following along. It was weirdly comforting, though. You didn’t need to speak, not with him around. He always had something to say, and it felt natural, like a part of your routine.

“So, anyway,” Jake continued, looking at you eagerly as though he was expecting some sort of reaction. “I was just thinking about it all, and then, I realized, maybe we could do the tutoring at your place instead of school? You know, less distractions, and, well, I know school can be kind of loud, but your place would be more chill, don’t you think?”

You barely registered his question, too caught up in the quiet hum of your own thoughts. You didn’t feel like speaking much today, not after everything. You were still figuring things out. But you nodded slightly, agreeing.

You gave him a brief glance, finally deciding to offer something to the conversation. “Maybe. But you’ll still talk the whole time.”

Jake laughed, his voice still full of that energy you were so used to by now. “I can’t help it! I mean, I’ve got so much to say, you know? I just like… talking. I like hearing myself talk,” he added with a grin, making you roll your eyes slightly.

You didn’t speak for a while after that. Instead, you just stared at him quietly, watching him go on and on. Honestly, you didn’t mind. It was like this every time you were together. You didn’t have to fill the space with words because Jake was always happy to do it for you.

“So, uh, same time tomorrow for tutoring?” Jake asked after a while, his eyes expectant as he looked at you.

You blinked, taking a moment to consider it. You had no intention of speaking much, as usual. But you gave a small nod. “Sure,” you whispered, feeling a tiny bit of tension leave your shoulders.

Jake smiled brightly, already moving to start talking again, but you stopped him with a look. He raised his eyebrows at you, clearly confused.

“You really don’t stop, do you?” you muttered softly, shaking your head just a little.

He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, you cut him off. “Fine, we’ll do tutoring at my place. But only if you talk less,” you said, your voice quiet, but with a small smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.

Jake blinked in surprise. “Wait, really? You’re agreeing? I thought you’d—”

“Yeah, well, you’re not going to shut up if I don’t,” you said with a shrug.

Jake let out a loud laugh, but he nodded. “Alright, alright. I’ll try my best. But no promises.”

You just gave him a small, quiet smile, the kind that said you didn’t really mind at all. You were used to him talking. You didn’t have to say much, and that was enough for you.

Jake, of course, wasn’t done yet. He continued talking, but you didn’t mind. You were happy with the silence of just being around him, listening to him speak while you kept your thoughts to yourself. It was like this every time. And maybe, just maybe, you were okay with it.

The next tutoring session came, and you couldn’t help but notice how much it had become part of your routine—Jake talking non-stop, and you sitting there, quietly listening, occasionally breaking into a smile or soft laugh when he said something that was just too ridiculous.

You had been staring at him again, your eyes tracing the way his hands moved as he tried to explain something he barely understood, and how his hair always fell into his face when he leaned forward in his chair. He wasn’t the best at math—if you were being honest, he barely understood half of it—but his enthusiasm made it… bearable.

“And then,” Jake was saying, gesturing wildly with his pen, “if you… wait, no, that’s not right. I meant—uh, okay, so this is just like that time when my brother messed up the barbecue, right?” He was halfway through explaining something entirely unrelated to the subject at hand when he paused and caught your gaze.

You were staring at him again, your eyes narrowing slightly as you tried to focus, but you couldn’t help it. Something about him was just so… distracting.

“What?” Jake asked, looking a little sheepish. “You think I’m being ridiculous again?”

You just giggled softly, shaking your head. “You’re really something, you know that?”

Jake grinned, leaning back in his chair, not at all fazed by the fact that he was constantly derailing your tutoring sessions with random anecdotes. “Yeah, I know. But you still like it, don’t you?”

Your eyes flicked away for a moment, a faint blush creeping up your neck as you tried to hide your smile. “You’re lucky I’m a good tutor,” you muttered under your breath, though the teasing tone didn’t quite cover up the warmth you felt.

“Ha! I knew it!” Jake pointed at you, practically jumping out of his chair. “You’re laughing! I’m winning!” He flopped back into his seat, satisfied with himself.

You couldn’t help but giggle again, trying to cover your mouth but failing miserably. His infectious energy was impossible to ignore, and you didn’t even want to.

The conversation veered off track again, and you found yourself caught up in his rambling, but this time, you didn’t mind. You didn’t feel the need to speak much. You just listened, occasionally laughing or shaking your head, all the while staring at him.

For once, it wasn’t frustrating. It wasn’t just noise. It was… nice. A quiet kind of chaos that you were starting to get used to.

The session ended with you both finally making a little progress on the homework, even if most of it had been distracted by Jake’s usual stream of consciousness. As you packed up your things, you realized that the time had passed quicker than you’d expected, and you didn’t want it to stop. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind the talking as much as you thought.

“Same time tomorrow?” Jake asked, still talking a mile a minute, but this time, you didn’t feel the need to shut him up.

You looked at him, giving a small smile, and just nodded.

“Fine,” you said quietly. “But try to get some work done, kay?”

Jake grinned widely. “No promises, but I’ll try.”

And you couldn’t help but laugh softly again, watching him grin and talk a little too much as you walked out of the room together.

I love jake sm bro | req open - masterlist | read part two here

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