#it always had to do with the dreams we knew there was something doing on there and it was some type of mental signet she had

[siri-ike]

(This got a little long)

Danny quieted down when he realized he wasn't in any danger. He stumbled out of bed, his legs were numb and wobbly, and everything looked out of focus. He grabbed onto the window sill to stay standing, but he just couldn't.

Suddenly, someone wearing white burst into the room. He couldn't tell who it was, or even if he knew them. It didn't help that he couldn't seem to keep his head still. The figure rushed toward him, and he flinched.

"It's ok, you're in the hospital. My name is Katie, I'm a nurse here. I can help." The woman had a Midwestern accent. She slowly stroked his sholder and held his cheek until he caught his breath and stopped shaking.

He sniffled as his vision slowly faded into focus. Katie was holding his head still. It really helped. He let his shoulders relax. "There was- th was a woman, she, she threw me into the water. And, and, and-"

"Vivid dreams are normal. But you're safe now. How about we get you back in bed? You can tell me everything you saw while we wait for Doctor Benton to get here." Katie helped him up and onto the bed. She held out his arm and reached for a butterfly needle hanging from an IV bag.

"What's that?" He asked diffencively, pulling his hand away.

"It's just some IV fluids. Saline, B vitamins, electrolytes, a little glucose." She listed reassuringly, but Danny didn't give her his arm. She smiled and put the needle down. "It can wait. Do you still want to tell me about your dream?"

He looked at her full of questions, but he did want to tell someone about what he saw. The problem is; how much does she know? He probably can't tell her about being Robin or the League of Assassins. Whether he's here as Jason Todd Wayne or Jon Doe. To them, he should have no reason to know about that. "How, long- ha-has it been." He stuttered. He never had a stutter before. Could it have been caused by the explosion?... wait. There was an explosion. How is he in one piece? He looked at his arms and lifted up his pant legs. Everything was still intact. Aside from some fading lichtenberg scars on his hands, he was fine.

"Six months." She took his hands in hers. "The scars will heal in due time. But until then, you'll certainly have the coolest thing to show off at school." She grinned like they were planning a prank together or something. "Now, how about telling me about your nightmare?"

Jason picked at the inner corners of his eyes and wiped the clumps on his soft pajama shirt. "I was -, arguing with my dad. About - something. He sent me to my room. But I didn't listen. And this guy, I never learned his name, he hit me. Over and over. Then I was alone, and I died... after that, this woman, she's always flirting with my dad, took me to her home, and threw me in the water." He wanted to say more. But how? Even if he told these things to a therapist, they would be obligated by law to report to the police.

"Sweety. Do you want to see your dad? Your family's been over a lot. I'm sure they'll drop everything when we call them."

"Drop everything," ha. Bruce probably "dropped" the joker after what he did. But it would be nice to see him. Even if the last time they spoke wasn't on the best of terms. "Thanks."

"Ahem," a woman in a labcoat cleared her throat in the doorway. She probably didn't wanna startle them.

"Doctor Benton. Danny, she's just going to give you a checkup. I can go call your parents, so they'll be here when you're done."

Danny? Why would she call him Danny? And parents? Plural? Has Jason been confused for someone else? Come on, this isn't like mixing up newborn babies. He's 15. Plus, he had to have been flown in from Ethiopia. And how would Bruce not have noticed? Is some other boy living at the manor pretending to be him?

Katie affectionately touched Dr. Bentons upper arm. "Speech, reflexes, and attention, normal. Temperature, low. Breathing patern, stable. His IV and catheter fell out again." She was testing him? The whole time? He couldn't even be mad. That was pretty impressive.

"Now then, Danny. I have a few simple tests here. Most people in your position need to relearn some skills, and these will help us figure out which ones." Dr Benton pulled out a table and placed a note card and several colored pens on it. "I would like you to draw a clock that reads ten thirty, a green square with an orange letter G in it, and write your name."

OK, so a memory test and a dexterity test in one. Danny picked up the red pen. With a shaky hand, he drew a circular clock, one hand down, one up, and to the left. He picked up the orange pen and wrote the letter G, then drew a green square around it and filled it in. He hastily wrote his signature and handed the card over.

Sure, the lines were unsteady, and he didn't put any numbers on the clock, but he's still going to get a good grade in waking up from a coma. "What's next?" He eyed the folder Dr Benton held.

She placed a sheet of paper with a few simple math problems and shapes with the names of colors written under them.

The tests must have lasted at least 20 to 30 minutes. By the end, his handwriting didn't look half bad anymore.

There was a bit of ruckus in the hallway that seemed to put Dr Benton in a bit of a rush. Who could blame her? There was a guy yelling and clearly getting closer. Working in a hospital probably means dealing with a lot of people like that. Danny was just going to ignore it and hoped they weren't headed to a nearby room. But then.

"DANNO!"

The guy came into his room. He was huge, loud, and worst of all. He was holding Jason in a bear hug. Two women walked in behind him. One of them was all too eager to leave lipstic marks all over his face, but the younger one, the red head, stood back and scolded the large man for making such a ruckus in a hospital.

Who are these people? How are they not noticing that the person they are talking to is someone else? Does Jason have a doppelganger? Or better yet, a clone. He's overdue to be cloned. Hmm. But then, wouldn't it be the other way around?

"Dad! Would you put Danny down. He could have had serious mental regression or new sensitivities. You didn't even ask him how he's doing. Or if he remembers who you are." The girl was right. All of this was a lot so soon.

"Nonsense, Jazzy pants." The guy ruffled Jasons hair. "You remember who we are, right?"

They're probably civilians. If Jason was switched with someone, chances are these people are obvious to it. "You're... my family." Keep it vague. Don't wanna make too many assumptions.

Something about his dismissal made Jason feel uneasy. It was so fast. He expected to stay another night, or at least have more tests run. They just handed him his hoodie and practically dragged him out the door. He was already in a car less than an hour after waking up. The receptionist seemed so relieved. Most of the staff seemed relieved.

Is he actually ok to go?! Does anyone care?

The car was weird, too. It was full of add-ons like the batmobile, but nowhere near as sleek and clean. At least the driving was eaqualy reckless. Although they weren't chasing anyone.

"Danny... Danny." The girl spoke to him.

Oh, right, he's Danny. "Yes?" He rubbed his eyes to sell it. Gotta keep those expectations low.

"Are you alright? How are you feeling?"

"Uhm, I guess I'm kinda hungry. And stiff."

"I mean, emotionally, how are you feeling?"

Emotionally? He literally just woke up. He's supposed to have feelings this early. Let a guy shake off the rigormortis, whatever your name is. "I... don't know." Maybe he can use this to his advantage. "Did anything happen while I was asleep?"

There was a record scratch, somehow, and everything went silent.

"Honey," the woman in the front seat spoke up. "Maybe it would be best to have this conversation when we get home." She had a slight Midwestern accent. Just like Katie. Are they in the Midwest?

"Why? Did you get divorced or something? I'm not dead."

And there was the awkward silence again.

Crap, bad joke, bad joke. That was a full-on Jason response. Danny might have a completely different sense of humor.

This time, the silence lasted until they got home. He awkwardly shoved his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and felt a folded up piece of paper inside.

They still didn't say anything when they got home. He didn't get punished for joking about death, at least. That was a nice touch. But it was weird that they all went in different directions. The two adults ran straight to the basement, yelling something about "overheating" and "GHOSTS!". And the red head went for the stairs before Jason stopped her.

"Could you help me? Dr. Benton said I shouldn't cook anything unsupervised."

She looked surprised at the request. It's not like he wants to have someone cook for him. It was literally doctors' orders.

"I'm not supposed to be around sharp knives of fire." He justified.

"Oh, I read about that. Some people can be self-destructive after waking up from a long coma. Often, they are trying to test if they're still dreaming." She sounded too excited about his potentially dangerous mental state.

While... crap, gotta find out their names. She cut up some vegetables and left him to assemble a sandwich. That sure was quick. Usually, he would have had to sit through endless conversation just to eat something. This gave him time to snoop.

The sandwich was amazing. It was like eating something for the first time in months. When he was done, he remembered the note. He pulled it out of his pocket, and, ok, Jason swears he is a good reader. Why are only some of the letters making words?

He powered through and eventually managed to decipher the letter.

Dear Mr. Fenton

It is important that you continue your brain exercises. You may also experience some decline in fine motor skills. Below is a list of activities that can speed up recovery.

Reading, puzzles, writing, drawing.

-Nurse Katie

She must have slipped it in before she left. Would it still be developmentally appropriate to have a crush on his nurse? She seemed to be in her late 20s to early 30s... "we could make it work." Jason nodded delusionaly.

*bdrrrrr*

The doorbell cought Jason off guard. He answered it and saw two teenagers, the same age as him. One male, African American, red barrette, yellow t-shirt. Height 5"4, teal eyes. The other female, Caucasian, black clothes, black hair. Height 5"6', violet eyes. Their facial expressions suggested they were friends, but of course, Jason didn't know them.

"Danny!" They cheered in unison.

"We came as soon as we heard."

"Are you ok?"

"Sam was so worried about you." The boy mocked, only to get jabbed in the abdomen.

"I'm fine." This "danny" sure has a lot of people to keep track of. Why couldn't Jason have been switched with some loner?

They both stared at him for a moment. "Can we come in?"

Jason looked back inside. Put on a show for five people, or for two people? "Uhm, let's go somewhere else." He practically shoved himself outside.

They looked at each other, and it was clear they were avoiding saying something.

Jason couldn't risk choosing where to go, so he let them pick. He wasn't really sure what he expected, what with the lack of third places in American cities now a days. But a science museum? He would have preferred a library, but he could still read here.

"What should we look at first?"

"Your choice. This place has gotten three new exhibits. There's a brain maze-"

"A human skeleton-"

"And they added a thing that you can stand on, and it zaps you."

They looked at each other in silence.

"We can ignore that one." They seemed to agree.

"Why? I wanna get zapped. Which way?" Jason grabbed a map at the front desk while the girl paid for 3 passes. "The brain is closer. Let's start there." He looked back at the others. "Bet I could get through faster than you." He grinned and dashed through the hall.

Jason stopped in front of the big plastic brain. He expected the others to run after him, but they were far behind. He had to take his shoes off in order to enter the structure. It's kind of like those indoor playgrounds. Except way bigger.

Despite all the big talk, Jason ended up wandering into every dead end in order to find all the fun facts. Each one came with a small stamp on the arm, and if you find all of them, you get a sticker.

On the way out, Jason spotted the two teens he came here with. They didn't even go inside. He can't beat them if they don't even play. The brain has no pain receptors!" He shouted to them as an employee put a sticker on his hoodie. It was a brain wearing pants with the words "Smarty Pants" written under it.

"I know you didn't go in, but I'm still counting this victory. I win." Jason showed off his sticker with that sassy little smile. You know the one.

Their supportive smiles looked fake. Jason could tell they were hiding something. He didn't even need to look for micro-expressions. These people were terrible liars. Finally, he snapped. "What's wrong? You two have been acting like you covered up a murder or something."

Mini Prompt: Death Runs in the Family

Danny and Jason are twins separated at birth. When they were born Danny was very sick and it didn’t look good for him from the start. As a final act of love or malice Sheila abandoned Danny at the hospital–making sure that there is nothing connecting him to her–leaving him to whatever fate desired for the small boy.

On the other hand she took Jason with her who then ended up being raised by Willis and Catherine. With them being completely unaware that Jason has a twin brother.

Jason’s life continues on as normal with him eventually being found, adopted, and becoming Robin. He dies at 15 in Ethiopia with his bio-mom never knowing about his brother. He comes back

Meanwhile Danny gets better and is later on adopted by the Fenton’s. Living in a crazy ghost-invested town. His parents build the portal in the basement, and at 15 dies with a press of a button. He comes back.

What no one knows though is that both meet their fate at the same time. A portal opening and a bomb going off. The two become twins in life and in death.

[rositaslabyrinth]

Don’t open that drawer - Dean W

Dean x fem!reader

While patching yourself up after a rough hunt, you find yourself in Dean’s room late at night—only to discover a drawer he forgot to close.

Content warning ; canon typical violence, emotional vulnerability, smut, oral (f!receiving) but nothing to crazy, dean being a sweet coward <33

Word count ; 1,511

Minors please do not interact !!

You never meant to find them.

It was late—past midnight—and the Bunker was unusually quiet. Sam had already gone to bed, the echoes of his footsteps fading down the hall hours ago. You’d stayed up patching your jacket, a fresh tear sliced through the arm from the hunt earlier that day. Dean had said he’d help, but he never came back from the garage.

You figured he was brooding. He did that, after a close call. And tonight had been closer than usual.

The kitchen light flickered as you passed, mug in hand. You made your way to Dean’s room instead—mostly because it was closer than yours, and partly because you were tired of pretending that wasn’t a habit.

He always left the door unlocked.

The room smelled like him—leather, old cologne, whiskey, something earthy underneath. You set your mug on his nightstand and dropped into the chair by his desk, rubbing your sore arm. His flannel was slung over the back of it. You pulled it on without thinking.

That’s when you noticed the drawer.

The bottom right. Slightly ajar. Not enough to catch the eye unless you were sitting this close.

You didn’t mean to open it.

But there was a curl of paper sticking out.

At first you thought it was one of his old case notes, shoved out of sight. But the handwriting was neater. More intentional. And then you saw your name.

Your name. On the top of the page. Centered. Underlined.

Your chest tightened. You knew you should stop. But your fingers moved on their own.

“You had blood on your cheek tonight. You didn’t even notice. I wanted to wipe it off, but I didn’t. I just watched you laugh with Sam like we hadn’t almost died. I think that’s what kills me. That after everything, you still know how to laugh. You make the worst parts of this job feel less like hell. And God, I want to tell you that. But I never do. So I’m writing it down, instead.”

Your hands trembled. You unfolded another.

“I had a dream about you. You were wearing one of my shirts, standing in the library. You didn’t say anything. You just looked at me like you already knew. And for once, I didn’t feel like running.”

There were more. Dozens. Some torn out of notebooks, some written on scraps of diner napkins, lined legal pads, the backs of maps. Your name on every single one.

And they weren’t just sweet, or romantic. Some were angry. Frustrated. Devastated.

You walked into the room today and smiled at me like I was someone worth loving.

“I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve that, but I know I’ll never be brave enough to say what I should. So this’ll sit in a drawer. Just like the others.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until a drop hit the page.

“Hey.”

You jumped, heart thudding. You hadn’t heard the door.

Dean stood in the doorway, keys in hand, jaw clenched, green eyes locked on the drawer you’d pulled open.

He didn’t yell. Didn’t rush to snatch the papers away.

He just said, quietly, “You weren’t supposed to read those.”

“I know,” you said. Your voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to. I just… I saw my name.”

Dean stepped inside slowly, closing the door behind him. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then he leaned back against it like he needed something to hold him up.

“I wrote them when I couldn’t say it out loud,” he admitted. “Didn’t think anyone would ever see them. Especially not you.”

“Why not?”

He looked down. “Because if you knew how long I’ve felt this way, you’d either hate me for keeping it quiet or pity me for being too much of a coward to do anything about it.”

You stood, slowly, letter still in your hand.

“You’re not a coward.”

Dean gave a soft, broken laugh. “You don’t know how many times I almost told you. How many nights I sat right there—” he nodded toward the desk—“and thought about knocking on your door. But I’d look at you the next day, and you’d smile, and I’d think… if I tell her, she might stop smiling at me like that.”

Your chest ached.

You crossed the room and stopped in front of him. The silence was thick—too full of everything unsaid.

“I never would’ve stopped,” you whispered. “Not ever.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. And all the years of buried emotion hit the surface like a storm breaching a dam.

“God, I’m in love with you,” he said. “I’ve been in love with you since you walked into that diner in Nevada with a busted lip and a silver blade and said, ‘You boys need backup?’”

You smiled through the tears. “I remember that. You said, ‘Only if you’ve got whiskey.’”

He huffed a soft laugh. “You had some in your boot.”

“And you smiled at me like you hadn’t done that in years.”

Dean stared at you. “Because I hadn’t.”

You reached for his hand, gently, lacing your fingers with his. “Then stop writing me letters you’ll never send.”

He squeezed your hand like he never wanted to let go. “Can I kiss you now?”

“You’d better.”

When Dean kissed you this time, it wasn’t restrained. It was everything. The hesitation was gone, stripped away by years of closeness, tension, aching want, and love too long buried. It was the kiss of a man who had written you into the quiet spaces of his life, who had bled feelings onto paper because his mouth had failed him too many times.

His hands cupped your jaw, thumbs brushing tears you didn’t remember falling. You melted into him, fingers fisting into the front of his henley like your body finally recognized where it was meant to belong.

The kiss deepened — slow, hot, careful, then not-so-careful.

Dean pulled you flush against him, one hand sliding down to rest at your waist, gripping tight like he couldn’t believe this was real.

You let out a soft, shaky sound into his mouth — something between a gasp and a whimper — and felt his whole body tense in response.

He pulled back just enough to search your face. “Tell me if this is too fast. I mean it.”

“It’s not,” you said. “Dean… I’ve wanted this for so long.”

His expression softened. “Me too.”

He kissed you again — more urgent now, more certain — and walked you back toward the bed. His hands were everywhere, warm and calloused, reverent as they slipped beneath your shirt, memorizing the feel of you like he’d dreamed it more times than he could count.

When your shirt came off, he stared like you were sacred.

“God,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

Your hands trembled when you pulled his shirt over his head. The soft light of the bunker caught the scar across his collarbone, the curve of muscle, the slight freckle near his ribs you’d noticed years ago and never forgotten.

You touched him like the letters — slow and sure and aching. He groaned low in his throat when your palms slid across his chest.

“Lie back,” he said, voice thick. “Let me take care of you.”

You did.

Dean kissed every inch of skin he uncovered — from your collarbone to your stomach, your hips, the inside of your thighs. His hands gripped you like he was terrified you’d vanish if he let go. He kissed like he was still writing to you, but now with his mouth and body — all the things he couldn’t say poured out in sighs and touches.

When his mouth found the place between your legs, you gasped — arching into him, fingers buried in his hair.

“Dean—”

He groaned against you like your voice undid him.

You tried to speak — to tell him how good it felt, how long you’d dreamed about this — but your words fell apart under the heat of his tongue and the rhythm he set. Slow. Devoted. The kind of touch that said I’ve thought about this a hundred different ways, but nothing compares to the real thing.

When you came, it was with a cry of his name, your thighs trembling around his shoulders, your whole body curling in on itself.

He kissed your inner thigh, then crawled back up your body and kissed your lips like he wanted to taste the sound you’d just made.

“Still with me?” he asked, eyes full of warmth and wonder.

You nodded, dazed and smiling. “Still here.”

“Good.” He kissed your forehead. “Because I’m not done.”

Later, when he finally wrapped you in his arms on that old mattress, the letters still sat on the desk. Open. Read. Finally seen.

“I was gonna burn them one day,” he murmured into your hair.

“Don’t,” you whispered. “They’re part of us now.”

He was quiet for a moment.

Then he said, “You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“I don’t need the drawer anymore.”

Liz talks : GUESS WHOS BACK!! HEYYY did you miss me cause i missed all of you <33 I am so sorry about being away for so long but this app was lowkey draining me, but we should be all good now !! I hope you all enjoy this sweet little thing :))

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[twlgholts]

always kind of was, j.b.

chapter nine, things you don’t say

— jacob black x f. reader

a/n: holy long chapter its like double the length of other ones oops! but we almost done so stay tuned…

taglist: @asillysimp @grimlinn @eneywey @shinobuily @ravisinghs-wife @mjustag1rl @mae-gi-writes @agustdeeyaa @itsfromaboyband-blog

prev. series masterlist! next.

Death is imminent. Most don’t get the luxury of reaching the end of their life naturally–peacefully. Most don’t die knowing their life was well-lived, well-loved.

You, however, were going to take that luxury away from Jacob Black.

Thirty-five hours, forty-two minutes, eight seconds. That’s how long it had been since you last saw him, since that night. You hadn’t texted, but neither had he.

To be fair, he knew you needed more space than he did. Jacob always seemed to know that about you–how when your emotions boiled over, you needed quiet. Stillness. Time alone to cool off so you could speak your mind without every word carrying too much heat, especially ones you didn’t mean.

And he was right.

Which only pissed you off more.

Because if he understood you that well–understood what you needed, how you worked, how you shut down–then why did he keep you under the dark, like you hadn’t spent your entire lives knowing each other inside-out?

He knew you wouldn’t reach out first. You weren’t the kind of person who broke the silence until you were ready, and he knew that. You knew that he knew that. Which made it all worse because even if he knew you needed space, even if he understood it down to a science, a part of you still wished he’d done the opposite anyway. You wanted him to prove you wrong, to show up at your doorstep soaked and breathless and say, screw space, I care too much to stay away.

But he didn’t.

And maybe there was no right move he could’ve made. Maybe there was no winning. Maybe this whole situation was designed to screw you both up.

When Jacob felt things, he felt them with everything in him. He was stubborn. He loved hard and fast, but he always, always, put others before himself. That’s why it felt natural for him to throw his life into danger without blinking–because protecting Forks from real monsters gave him purpose. It distracted him from thinking too hard about stuff that really scared him.

Like feelings.

Like you.

Everything had happened too fast. The shifting, the imprinting, the supernatural chaos. One second he was just a kid worrying about homework, dreaming about a girl who moved away. The next, he had fur, paws, responsibilities, and a cosmic bond telling him the person who kept him grounded was now the axis his entire universe spun around.

You didn’t do anything wrong and it wasn’t something you said. You just existed, and somehow your existence alone became the thing Jacob needed to survive.

When you left, he told himself the crush would die quietly. And it did–kind of. It fizzled out, but not really. Never really. He buried it, shoved it down with both hands, and then you came back and suddenly it was like he didn’t need air, or food, or sleep. Just you.

You being near him rewired everything. The progress he’d made–the person he was trying to become–froze. Halted like his growth hit a red light and never got the green again.

He never wanted to hurt you. Not ever. He wanted to do the opposite, to protect you and preserve your peace by keeping you from the heavy, tangled mess of what he was now. The last thing he wanted was to trap you in something you never asked for.

And the worst part? He knew you’d understand because you always did. You’d listen and nod and hold space for him the way no one else could.

That made it scarier.

Because if you understood, then it’d be real. It would mean accepting what he was, what you were to him, and what that might do to you.

Not seeing you sucked. But knowing you were hurting because of him? That made his skin crawl, his chest ache. He could feel it–literally–because of the damn imprint, the cosmic tie that tethered his every heartbeat to yours.

And lately, with patrols getting more intense, with rogue vampires creeping through the tree line again, Jacob’s already limited time had shrunk even more. Which meant pushing you further out. Which meant more guilt. More regret. More thoughts circling like vultures.

And everyone noticed.

“You look like crap,” Embry told him one afternoon, smirking around a half-eaten granola bar as Jacob slouched deeper into the worn couch in Emily’s living room.

Jacob didn’t bother answering. His arms were crossed, hair a mess, dark circles etched under his eyes like bruises.

Quil threw down a reverse card during their lazy Uno game and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, man. You’re gonna implode. Or imprint-sulk yourself into an aneurysm.”

“I’m fine,” Jacob muttered.

“Liar,” Embry replied immediately, not even looking up from his cards.

“You’re not sleeping. You’re screwing up on patrols. You let a tree root punk you last night. A root, Jake.” Quil gestured toward the bandage around Jacob’s thumb. “That’s embarrassing for all of us.”

Jacob sighed through his nose. “Yeah. I know.”

There was a pause.

Then Quil leaned back and said, “Look. I’m saying this because I love you, bro. But you’re being a total idiot. A certified, capital ‘I’ idiot. You know it. We know it. Probably even the trees know it at this point.”

“Great pep talk,” Jacob replied, sarcastic.

“I’m not done,” Quil said. “You don’t even have to tell her the wolf stuff yet. Honestly, I wouldn’t. She’s already trying to figure out why you’re acting like this moody-loner-slash protector hybrid. You’re already giving off major Angel-from-Buffy vibes. Don’t make it worse by dumping a werewolf-shaped bomb on her.”

Embry snorted. “For real. If you disappear dramatically one more time, she’s gonna start journaling about you in cursive.”

Jacob cracked a reluctant smile but didn’t say anything. Then, without looking up, he tossed his last card onto the pile. “Uno out.”

Quil blinked. “Wait–seriously?”

Jacob just leaned back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling, eyes dull. “Doesn’t mean I’m winning at life.”

Embry let out a low whistle. “Damn. That was darker than expected.”

“Talk to her,” Quil said again, more serious now. “You don’t have to say everything, just something. Something real, honest, because not saying anything? That’s what’s killing you.”

Jacob was sad, but so were you. 

Not just sad. Confused. Conflicted. Hurt. Stuck somewhere between rage and ache and it all sat heavy in your chest like a weight you couldn’t breathe under.

You were drinking a glass of orange juice and staring at the fridge like it had answers. Maybe if you looked hard enough, the swirling storm inside your brain might settle.

“You’re looking at the fridge like red laser beams are gonna shoot out of your eyes and evaporate it,” your dad said, stepping into the kitchen with that familiar dry tone, breaking the silence like a crack of thunder. He clocked your slumped posture and pinched brows instantly.

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “Yeah. Practicing for my victim.”

He walked over and rubbed your shoulders, then kissed the side of your head in that comforting, fatherly way he always did. “Black? Don’t do that to my boy.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m just so annoyed. Like why is he acting like a freak and being so secretive? I’m not asking for the government’s confidential top-secrets. I just want him to be honest.”

“I was just like him,” your dad says, smiling as he opened the cabinet and pulled out a mug. “Young. Rebellious. Mysterious. It didn’t help when I fell in love.”

You raised a brow and perched up a little, staring at him like he’d said something criminal. “With Mom? You? Mysterious?”

He smiles with pride written all over his face.

“Mom said you used to call her five times a day and show up to her work ‘accidentally’ like, three times a week.”

He nodded solemnly. “That was me being mysterious.”

You laughed, for real this time.

“I once tried to impress her by dancing backwards down the hallway in rollerblades while holding a boombox in high school. Hit a locker, flipped over, broke my wrist, passed out, hospitalized. She was sitting next to me when I woke up. That’s when I knew she was the one.”

You blinked. “You never told me that version.”

“Because I looked like an idiot,” he replied, sipping his coffee. “But an idiot in love.”

“So what’s that got to do with Jacob acting like an emotionally repressed cryptid?”

He chuckled, deep and loud from his belly. “Everything. You kids think love is clean. It’s not. Sometimes it’s stupid and messy and makes you act like a weirdo who stares at a fridge. But if you don’t deal with it head-on, it eats you alive.”

You stared into your juice, feeling heat crawl up the back of your neck.

“Just… don’t wait too long,” he advises, heading for the hallway. “I’d like a warm thank you in your wedding speech, not a cold one on your deathbed. Go talk to him before your temper rips him apart.”

Your dad disappears down the hallway, leaving behind the faint scent of coffee. You take another sip of your orange juice and just sit there, watching the condensation slide down the glass, listening to the silence settle in the house like fog. Your thoughts churn quietly beneath the surface–heavy, sharp, loud, impossible to name. You look down at your hands and they’re still, but everything inside you is not.

You don’t know how much time passes. Maybe a few minutes. Maybe an hour. But eventually, after thirty-seven hours, twelve minutes, and fifty-six seconds of silence and distance, you throw on (his) hoodie, grab your keys, and drive.

The road is muscle memory. You’ve taken this route so many times, it’s etched into your bones. You pass the place where Jacob taught you how to skate, where he pushed you too fast down a hill and nearly gave you a concussion. Where he laughed so hard he fell over with you.

Eventually, you’re on the reservation, the ocean wind shifting in through the cracked window, and the ache in your chest building like pressure before a storm.

You park in front of a small, red wooden house that always looked too much like a barn. A little weathered by time, but standing.

You barely knock before the door opens.

Jacob looks tired, his hair messy like he had just woken up, his chest rising and falling concerningly fast. He looks at you like he wasn’t expecting you but was hoping you’d come anyway. But you don’t give him a chance to speak.

You step forward and just let it all out.

“Do you know how much it hurt not knowing what the hell was going on with you? I felt like I was screaming into a void and you just stood there watching. Do you know what it feels like to have someone look at you like you’re everything one second and then like you’re a stranger the next? Like they’re holding behind some thick wall and you’re not allowed through, no matter how hard you pound on it?”

You don’t even notice your hands are shaking until you grab at the sleeves of the hoodie.

“I came here thinking things would be different–or maybe just the same in the ways that mattered. But you’re not talking to me, Jacob. Not really. You show up, you bail, you look at me like I’m the answer to a question you won’t even ask. And I’m trying. God, I’m trying to be patient and soft and understanding, but I’m not a mind reader. I don’t want to be. I want you to trust me enough to say something. Anything.”

He’s still. Watching you. Breathing heavy.

You keep going, voice cracking just slightly now.

“Because this isn’t fair. I know you’re going through something, I see it. But it feels like you’re grieving something I don’t even know about, like there’s this shadow over you and you won’t let me near it. You shut me out and I feel like I’m just waiting for the version of you I used to know to come back. But maybe that version is gone. And if he is, at least say that. Is that too much to ask for? Too selfish?”

There’s a moment of silence. He doesn’t move.

Then he steps aside and lets you in.

You follow him into the warmth of the house, your heartbeat still thudding, your throat dry. He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a long breath before finally looking at you again.

“I can’t tell you,” he says, voice low but steady. “And before you get mad again–just listen. I want to be honest with you, more than anything, but there’s this part of me I didn’t ask for. Something that’s not entirely mine to explain. And I don’t even understand it yet.”

He swallows, his eyes are shining too, but he blinks quickly.

“It’s been eating me alive since before you came back. Every time I look at you, there’s this war inside me wanting to protect you and wanting to keep you as far from me as possible, and I don’t know how to handle that. I don’t even fully know what I am right now, let alone how to share that with someone else.”

He finally steps closer. “And I know you’re hurt. I hate myself for hurting you, but I’m hurting too, and I don’t have the words or the tools to fix this yet. I just need more time. I promise I’ll tell you–everything. But right now, if I did, I’d only be handing you a burden that I’m still trying to carry myself and I can’t do that to you.”

You breathe in slowly, heart thudding against you ribs.

“Nothing about you is a burden to me, Jacob,” you whisper. “I love and care about every inch of your soul. You know that, right?”

“I do,” he says quietly, “And that’s what terrifies me. Why do you seem to love and understand me more than I do myself? Just let me figure this out first. Let me become the person who deserves that kind of love. Then I’ll tell you. I swear.”

You stare at him for a long moment. Then you nod once, slow.

“Okay, I trust you. Don’t go breaking it, Jake.”

“I won’t,” he replies almost immediately. “I swear I won’t.”

“You’re not kicking me out now, are you?” you ask, voice soft.

“No,” he says, voice low, like the word had been waiting in his chest this whole time. “Stay. Please. Stay.”

There’s something raw in the way he says it–not desperate, exactly. Just sincere, like he’s finally admitting that he needs something.

You stop, half-turned toward the door, and look at him.

“Okay,” you say softly.

You drop your keys on the table, toe off your shoes, and glance around the room like it’s unfamiliar, even though you’ve been here a hundred times before. Everything feels a little warped, like the air’s heavier now, slower. Jacob stays quiet, eyes following you with that same unreadable look. Part guilt. Part relief. Mostly something deeper–something wounded and tender.

You shift your weight, then glance down at your phone. “Crap. I forgot my charger.”

His voice is steadier now, a little warmer. “Top drawer on my desk. Might still be that old one you left.”

You nod, grateful for something simple, and head toward his room.

His room smells like him–that mix of pine and clean laundry and something warm you can’t quite name. Possibly familiarity. You flick on the light and go to the desk.

You open the drawer and pause.

The overhead light flickers softly, catching on the edge of something crinkled and colorful nestled between loose batteries and old screws.

Starburst wrappers.

Dozens of them.

Some smoothed flat, others crumpled into little cubes like they’d been stuffed into a pocket in a hurry. Pink, orange, red–every color, every flavor. You pick one up, your fingers still recognizing the texture, the weight of it. A soft breath escapes you before you can help it.

Jacob’s voice floats in from the hallway. “You find it?”

You don’t answer right away. You’re still staring into the drawer, holding a piece of your shared history between your fingers.

He steps into his room. “Hey, you okay?”

You hold up the wrapper without turning around. “You kept these?”

A pause. You can feel him stop in the doorway behind you.

Then, quieter: “What do you mean?”

You look back at him, your expression a mixture of incredulous and something tender. You shift back slightly so he can see inside the drawer. His eyes land on it–on the sea of familiar colors–and something in his face changes. Softens.

He walks forward slowly. “I forgot I still had those.”

You raise a brow. “Did you, though?”

Jacob scratches the back of his neck again, half a smile playing at his lips. “Okay. Maybe I knew. But only because I never wanted to throw them out.”

You turn toward him, arms folded loosely, a pink wrapper still in your hand. “Why?”

He looks down at the drawer, then back up at you with a sort of quiet vulnerability. “Because they were yours. Ours. I don’t know. I guess… I held onto them because they reminded me of a time when things made sense. When getting a kiss from you only cost a few pieces of candy.”

You scoff lightly. “You were constantly broke.”

“I know.” He smiles. “But you still patched me up anyway. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

You shake your head, stepping closer. “You’re such a sentimental idiot.”

“I’m aware.”

He meets your eyes, and something heavier settles between you. A beat of silence. A shared knowing. You search his face for something—an answer, maybe. Or a reason why you’re still here, why your heart still aches when it comes to him.

“I missed this,” you say, your voice quieter now. “Us. Before everything got complicated. But I’m glad we talked.”

Jacob nods, almost solemn. “Me too.”

You inhale slowly, chest tight with the things you haven’t said. Then he reaches out and pulls you in gently, his arms wrapping around your waist like they were made to. You fold into him without resistance. The hug is soft at first, then stronger. He tucks his chin over your shoulder, and you stay that way–for a long, quiet moment. No words. Just breath, warmth, and the ache of being known too well.

He pulls back just enough to look at you. His hands are still resting on your arms. “Let me make everything up to you.”

You tilt your head, suspicious. “How?”

“Tomorrow,” he says, but certain. “Be free at six.”

You blink. “You’re giving me a time but not a plan? Again?”

His smile tugs to the side, sheepish. “I swear I won’t drag you hiking this time. Not without warning or verbal consent, at least.”

“Hmm,” you pretend to mull it over. “But I’m expecting, like, a five-course apology.”

He raises a brow. “You’re getting a pack of Starbursts and my sparkling company. Anyone else would be fighting for that.”

You snort, despite yourself. “Modest, aren’t we?”

“I’ve been told it’s one of my more annoying qualities.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile’s already taken over. “Guess I’ll allow it.”

He leans in a little, playful but tentative. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, softer now. “I’ll be there.”

He grins. “I’ll take what I can get.”

There’s a beat. Just the quiet hum of the room and the distance between you shrinking a little more.

You tilt your head. “We’re okay?”

Jacob meets your gaze, steady and warm. “We’re okay if you’re okay.”

You nod, voice just above a whisper. “Then we’re okay.”

And you don’t need to say anything else. Because right now, in his hoodie, in his room, in this moment—you are.

[marvel-snape-writes]

I came across this image and a really sad thought came to mind, I just had to jot it down — enjoy my late night Lamb x Standish rambling 🥲🫶

We Will Never Be Like Anybody Else

It would’ve been like any normal end of the day if she hadn’t heard it: music at Slough House? She knew that Struan had, had what he classed as a brilliant idea of putting a piano in one of the rooms to try and ‘bring the team together’, but Jackson’s reaction soon put a stop to that dream. She quietly walked downstairs, trying to make as little noise as possible with her small heels. She could’ve sworn Struan had already gone home… unless he sneaked back to get the place all to himself and have a go? It was his idea in the first place, she thought.

As she approached the open doorway, she clasped her hand to her mouth to try and prevent any sound escaping it. Wide eyes stared forward at the figure sitting with their back to her at the piano; it was Lamb. She stood completely still, afraid any sudden movement would put him off, and also afraid of how he would react if he knew she was watching. She didn’t know he could play piano. To be completely honest, she didn’t even know he was capable of doing something that appeared to have him escaping reality. Sure, he had his whisky and his cigarettes, but they weren’t exactly the healthiest choice of vices. He didn’t even entertain the idea of company anymore, not since back then. This was like a breath of fresh air. She almost felt relieved knowing that he had an outlet that wasn’t something that could kill him – because he did seem fairly talented, so this can’t have been something he had never done before.

She watched in awe as he continued to play, her heart skipping a beat each time he spread his arms out to reach the notes that were further along to either end of the piano. His fingers danced along the keys as if they had always belonged there, and for a moment, she remembered when they did just the same against her skin. She leant against the doorframe and revisited one of several memories, remembering how, after all his roughness, his fingers were amongst one of the softest, most delicate things she had ever felt once they were upon her, around her, inside her. For years that had been a distant memory. One that she was being reminded of now every time his arms outstretched and fingers reached either end of the keys. She shook herself silently out of her thoughts. Was she really getting jealous of some piano keys?

Her heartbeat sped up each time his body moved and she pressed her lips together a little harder whenever his head would turn in either direction of the keys. Her eyes fell upon the scruff around his cheeks and she was instantly taken back to how it used to feel against her own skin. Admittedly, it was not as well kept as it used to be, but she still wouldn’t mind the feeling of it against where it had been before; cheek, neck, breasts, between her thighs. Her body tingled at the thought.

What she would give to walk over to that far end of the room and dangle her arms over his shoulders and rest her chin upon his head as it bobbed along to the melody he was playing. Maybe he’d even take her hands in his and physically show her how to play. That would be nice, she thought, to be guided by those hands again. She imagined how they would feel now after all these years; rough, worn, older than before, yes, but still capable of swift, gentle skill and expertise.

Was this Jackson Lamb at peace?

Just when she thought she couldn’t be more surprised, he changed the melody and started humming along. Her heart dropped the moment she realised what it was and her stomach felt like someone had filled it with ice.

“Because you’re sweet and lovely, girl, I love you. Because you’re sweet and lovely, girl, it’s true. I love you more than ever, girl, I do,” he sang along to the melody so faintly it was barely audible, but she knew every word. It wouldn’t matter to her if his voice sounded like nails on chalkboard, it was the memories that were igniting inside her like wildfire that made her lip tremble in awe; when they were working together in the early days, Jackson always allowed her to chose the music, if any, that they listened to, and the majority of the time, she would select an album by The Beatles. Jackson often teased her about how she should try and branch out into different bands, but there was this one particular song that she so often would go back to. One of her most fondest memories alongside it was when one night he spun her around in his arms and sang those exact lyrics to her. She thought she’d never get that feeling again, but for him to have then gone and secretly learned how to play it made her chest flutter in a way she thought was only for dramatic effect in movies. The way only he could ever make her feel. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you, you looked at me, that’s all you had to do…”

She stood there in admiring silence, one hand over her mouth, one hand over her chest. The Jackson whom she once kissed and danced with often seemed worlds away these days. The Jackson whose chest she would lay her head upon whilst dancing, relaxing, sleeping… The brightness that previously bounced in his expression seemed to take forever to light his eyes now, if at all. It made her hurt more than he could even imagine, but she certainly wasn’t brave enough to tell him. What would she say? I haven’t moved on from those days. Despite everything, it’s still you that I trust.

As he got to the end of the song, she felt the sadness overcome her even more. It was like losing him in slow motion again. She could have happily watched him play that song one hundred times over. She imagined him turning around and calling her over. She would obey in a heartbeat, obviously, and sit in his lap. He would continue to play, brushing her hair out of her face every time he stopped and tucking a few strands behind her ear with that Jackson Lamb smile that, still to this day, had the capability of making her melt. He would then wrap an arm around her waist, kiss her forehead and tell her, “we will never be like anybody else, Catherine Standish.” and, Christ, could she vouch for that. To end something that passionate so abruptly was enough to never seek out that kind of love ever again.

How could watching something so admirable cause so much pain? She couldn’t stand it any longer. Her eyes were stinging from trying to prevent them from tearing, and the lump in her through was fighting a losing battle. Not to mention her heart rate preforming at an ungodly speed. She decided to turn away without making her presence known. To have witnessed such an intimate, private moment was enough, she thought.

While she walked away as silently as she had approached, she glanced over her shoulder once more. How could someone so usually on their toes have not noticed she was stood in the doorway? That really must have been a personal moment for him to have not scanned the room once.

Tears fell down her cheeks as she walked away, already knowing that tonight would be putting her recovery to the greatest test. However, people often say that music is for when words alone simply are not enough to convey the amount of emotion they require. Maybe he wanted her to find him there all along?

---

Thank you for reading my sad Lambdish thoughts - I'm in two minds whether to continue it and have him call out her name with his back still turned or forever leave it to interpretation as to whether he ever knew she was there or not... 👀♥️

(This is the song btw https://open.spotify.com/track/5dpRJkvY8oWMQmQbEQTXhO?si=hbS7wvUuQ-23-8LQIPfFJQ 😍)

[cinnamon7girl7]

"THROUGH THE SILENCE, I WILL RETURN TO YOU – PART 4."

♡ — Summary: I thought I had it all — Satoru’s love, Megumi’s warmth, and Suguru’s trust. But even the strongest love can break when truth hides behind silence. One betrayal changes everything; pain drives them apart, yet memories and a love still alive won’t let them go. Now, Satoru fights for a second chance, and she must decide if, after all the hurt, love is still worth it. ♡ — Author's note: This is the fourth part of this story. I recommend reading the first three chapters (one, two, and three) so everything makes more sense. Thank you so much to everyone who has been waiting for each part of this story. It was really hard to write, but it was a dream I’ve always had. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Silence Hurts More

Silence had become a constant guest in the house. There were no more laughs in the kitchen when someone messed up breakfast. No more hurried footsteps in the hallway, or that soft sound of muffled laughter coming from the back room.

Only the echo remained—of what was once a home full of light.

I sat at the edge of the bed, in the room I once shared with Satoru. The blanket was still neatly folded, but his side remained untouched, as if I hadn’t had the strength to undo that half of the world we had built together.

—"Mom…" —Megumi peeked through the doorway, his voice barely a whisper.

I looked up, trying to force a smile.

—"Yes, my love?"

—"Can we have breakfast together…?" —he asked with a new kind of shyness, as if the pain had made him quieter too.

—"Of course. I’ll be right down."

Megumi nodded. He didn’t ask about Gojo. Not since that night.

Not since he saw the suitcase in the hallway, and heard his mother cry for the first time.

The kitchen was quiet.

She was making tea while Megumi watched her in silence, his chin resting on the table, his eyes a little dull.

—"Do you remember when he tried to make us daifuku?" —he asked suddenly.

She froze mid-movement.

The memory hit her like a cold wave in the stomach.

—"He left everything covered in flour… even you," —Megumi said with a small smile.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Because she also remembered how Satoru came over with flour-covered hands and drew a heart on her cheek.

How he said he would make daifuku every day just to see them smile like that.

But now, the daifuku tasted like lies.

Like silence. Like all the things he didn’t say.

Later, I was walking through a park I used to visit with Satoru.

The cold wind slipped through my coat, but what hurt the most was the habit of looking to my side and not finding him there.

—"Why didn’t you trust me?" —I kept thinking over and over.

—"Why did you look me in the eyes all those days and say nothing?"

I remembered a moment with Suguru, weeks ago.

The three of us were having coffee.

Satoru had that calm smile, but his hand wouldn’t stop gripping the cup.

Suguru looked at him with concern, and when we asked what was going on, both of them laughed and said they were just talking about missions.

Now I knew.

Now I understood.

That afternoon, I found Megumi in the small garden we used to take care of together.

—"I'm planting new flowers," —he said, digging the soil with force.

—"Why?"

—"Because the others didn’t grow anymore. And I don’t want the garden to die too."

I approached slowly, kneeling by his side.

—"Thank you for taking care of everything, Gumi."

—"Are you okay…?" —he asked, without looking at me.

I took a while to answer.

—"I’m learning to be."

He nodded, biting his lip. Then he pulled something out of his pocket: a small, wrinkled drawing.

It was a cartoon of the three of us: Satoru, him, and me, hugging.

—"I didn’t want to throw it away," —he said— "But I don’t know where it belongs anymore."

I took it gently between my fingers, like something sacred.

—"Keep it for now. One day we’ll know if it still has a place."

The nights were the hardest.

When Megumi was asleep and there were no more tasks to keep me busy, I was left alone with the weight of my heart.

I would go through old messages I had never deleted.

Voice notes filled with laughter.

Photos from trips, from dinners, from ordinary days where Satoru hugged me from behind while I cooked, saying things like:

—"You know what I want for dessert? You."

I closed my eyes and pressed the phone to my chest.

"How do you move on from something that was part of your soul?" I thought.

Several days went by. One afternoon, someone knocked at the door—someone you didn’t expect.

—"Suguru?"

He looked up, wearing his usual expression, though a bit dimmed.

—"Can I come in?"

I nodded.

We sat on the balcony, where we used to have tea when he visited. The air was cool, and the sky was painted a soft gray.

—"Has he been trying to reach you?" —Suguru asked, direct.

—"Every day," —I answered without looking at him.

—"And you haven’t replied."

—"I don’t know if I could, honestly. I don’t think I could do it without breaking again."

Suguru stayed silent for a few seconds, then said:

—"He didn’t tell you anything because he thought protecting you was more important than trusting you with the truth. I’m not justifying what he did… but I also can’t let you believe it was all selfishness."

When I looked at him, there was restrained sadness in his eyes.

—"Did you know everything from the beginning?"

Suguru lowered his head.

—"Yes."

I pressed my lips together. It hurt, but I wasn’t surprised anymore. What hurt most was realizing that everyone around me had made decisions for me.

—"I thought at least you…" —I whispered.

—"I know," —he interrupted, his voice hoarse— "And I’m sorry. But you have to understand something: Satoru loves you like I’ve never seen anyone love. He was destroying himself to keep you safe. Even if he got it all wrong."

I closed my eyes, holding back tears.

—"He never thought the truth could also make me feel safe. He didn’t get that. He never let me choose."

Suguru nodded.

—"Maybe you can still choose what to do with it."

That night, I stayed in the living room with Megumi watching a movie. He fell asleep with his head on my lap.

I gently stroked his hair, remembering the early days with him. When he came into my life scared, trusting no one, and how little by little he started getting closer to me… until one day, with a trembling voice, he said:

—"Can I call you mom?"

I closed my eyes tightly, holding back the tears.

Sometimes it felt like it was all too much.

And yet, there I was.

Alive. With Megumi.

Moving forward, even though it hurt.

On the other side of the city, Satoru sat alone on the rooftop of a building.

The wind tousled his hair, but he didn’t care.

His eyes were red, his hands trembling, his cheeks stained with dry tears, the beautiful engagement ring in one hand and in the other, an open letter.

A letter he never got to give you.

One that began with: "If I ever hurt you, I just want you to remember how much I love you..."

And for the first time in days, he lifted his head with determination.

—I'm going to win her back —he murmured—. Even if it’s the last thing I do.

[theprettynosferatu]

I Have Lost My Goddamn Mind

Or

The Dreaded Belle Delphine Post

Part the First: A Most Unnecessary Introduction

I cannot explain why, exactly, I started thinking about Belle Delphine. It's not lust, and it's not outrage I feel, nor is it some strange longing. If anything, what I feel is more akin to professional admiration.

Many did it before her, and many will do it after. But I struggle to imagine someone doing it smarter than her.

You know her, even if only as a half-forgotten tidbit about "that girl that sold her bathwater". But her influence cannot be denied. She emerged almost fully formed as the platonic ideal of the "egirl"; so much so that it's hard to separate how much of that aesthetic preceded her and how much is inspired by her, or her many, many imitators. At the time it seemed like she had been always there, lurking in dreams and the secret fantasies of so many.

We all know she is a person. A human like us. But it felt like we summoned her, brought her from beyond space and into our mortal world with our desires.

The truth is far less esoteric: Belle Delphine does not exist.

She never has.

She is a character. Fiction, in the way that all online personas are, to a degree, fictional- only more so. She is product and art. She is the creation not of a woman but, in fact, a couple. And it was brilliant.

So why don't we hear about her like we used to? Well, to figure that out, we need to understand why it worked to begin with.

Part the Second: Deniable Hentai

It's truly fascinating to read what was said about Belle Delphine before she did outright porn. She was written about in Rolling Stone, in Insider, in the Spectator... mainstream publications tried to make heads or tails of her. They called what she made "performance art", or "surreal erotica", or "sexy trolling". She said she was just goofing around.

That was a lie.

She was never random. She was never just silly. She was calculated, pointing at something without fully going in on it, going right up to the line in a way that felt alien to many, but all too familiar to her target audience.

She was referencing not real porn, but Hentai.

The octopus is not a lol so random choice. It hints at that age old hentai chestnut of tentacle sex.

The face, which we now all recognize as ahegao, is not just a sexy, goofy face. It's an expression used in hentai- more concretely, in the kind of hentai where the lovely lead breaks and the pleasure is too much to bear, so dignity goes away.

Her many "troll" videos of her eating, among other things, photos of men points towards vore, a kink mostly explored in hentai.

Make no mistake: she was making porn. Without taking her clothes off, without ever stating it, giving herself just enough room to pass it off as "goofing around", her work would be read, by the right people, the people in certain kink communities, as porn. Secret porn. Stealth porn.

And they would eat it up.

The longer she kept her clothes on, the more ravenous the desire for her to cross the line, to become what the audience knew she was hinting at. The more she didn't do porn, the more the anticipation grew.

The need for her grew to the point that people paid for her bathwater.

Sidenote: it was never her bathwater in reality. But the concept is where kink lives.

She started a pornhub account. She posted no "porn" on it. She titled the videos in a way that could be read as porn, or as trolling. The joke was obvious: the video titled "Pewdiepie goes DEEP inside Belle Delphine" was just her eating a picture of the famous YouTuber. Funny gag. But also, for part of the audience, another hentai reference.

And so it came to pass that a 20 year old girl edged the internet. For months. And months.

But where could she go from there? How much could she tease being living hentai without showing a single nipple? How to keep the gag from growing old?

Part the Third: The Disappearance of Belle Delphine

And then she was gone.

The content mills churned. They spat out theory after theory. That she had been arrested (thanks to a fake mugshot provided by Delphine herself). That she had experienced a mental breakdown. That she had been kidnapped.

She just... vanished. And the public, the drama channels, the social media users did all the work for her. How to keep the buzz going? Simply stop.

And yes, she left her patreon in the dark and in the dirt. I said she was smart. I never said she was ethical.

The truth, it would later turn out, was that the vanishing was planned. As rest, yes, but also as a way to fan the flames for the endgame. How can the public miss you if you won't go away?

And so, she waited. She saw the aesthetic she brought to the masses become a genre of "girl". She saw the theories and the hit pieces and she... waited. And waited.

And just as the public began to forget her, to move on, she entered her final act. She did the one thing she knew she could not come back from- but it didn't matter. It had been the plan all along.

She returned and made porn.

Part the Fourth: The Death of Belle Delphine

When she returned, brand new onlyfans in her arsenal, Belle Delphine was murdered by her creator.

She made a ton of money. Her onlyfans exploded. Chances are she has enough money, at age 25, to never work again.

But the OF came with promotion. And so she went on podcasts and did the one thing that could destroy Belle Delphine: reveal her fictional nature.

It's bizarre to listen to those interviews. There she is, speaking about Belle Delphine in the third person. Speaking not as the character but the creator. Revealing she had been in a relationship all along. Explaining why she vanished. How everything had been planned out from the very start.

The show was over. The thin line that let people believe that maybe, perhaps there was something real behind the bizarre sex icon disintegrated.

She was a sex worker, playing a very carefully constructed character. She was a person. She was no longer a personification of a million hentai-fueled fantasies. She worked hard. She was smart.

She was brilliant. But human.

Her audience never truly wanted "human".

She still makes a lot of money. She is still working, like so many other sex workers. She is now an icon, an inspiration, the popularizer of an entire aesthetic. But she is, in a way, in the past tense.

She's not even 30 yet. And she's in the past, in our memories more than our feeds.

Now let's not weep for the rich girl. She played her hand masterfully. She held back, teased, gestured towards porn in a way that made it so people couldn't call it porn, while being porn all along. She had a plan, entered the endgame, cashed in.

Is she a good person? I have no idea. Has she acted ethically? Not always. Is she a villain? I doubt it.

But god damn it, she did it.

And she did it smarter than anyone else.

[pankowcrumbs]

The warfare love triangle

Joseph Quinn X Reader, Will Poulter X Reader, Charles Melton X Reader

Joseph Quinn Masterlist

Will Poulter Masterlist

MasterList

I never imagined my dream job would involve sponging fake blood off Joseph Quinn’s cheek while Charles Melton flirted with me across the trailer and Will Poulter told jokes so dry I genuinely wasn’t sure if he was serious. And yet, here I was, wrist-deep in prosthetic glue and grime, working as the lead makeup artist on Warfare, a gritty war epic movie that had more dirt, sweat and shirtless men than I knew what to do with.

The production was huge. Long shooting days, early mornings, mud everywhere, and more bruises to paint on than I had ever thought humanly possible. But the silver lining? I had three of the most ridiculous and attractive men under my brush every day.

Joseph was the first one I’d met. He came in quietly, coffee in hand, headphones in, his usual curls shaved off and his jumper two sizes too big. He’d smiled when I introduced myself and let me fuss with his face without complaint. It only took a couple of sessions before he started taking one earbud out, asking me how my morning was. Then he took both out. Then he brought me coffee, too.

Will was different. Loud, charming, and surprisingly earnest. He cracked bad puns while I worked on him and he had the annoying habit of squirming when I was trying to paint blood streaks on his hands. But then he’d apologise, all sweet and sheepish, and I’d forgive him immediately.

Charles arrived a week into shooting. American, cocky, devastatingly handsome. He sat down in my chair, grinned at me and said, “You’re too pretty to be covering me in dirt, Y/N.” I rolled my eyes, of course but he kept finding new ways to make me laugh. He was the type who flirted like it was breathing.

It didn’t take long before I realised something strange was happening. They all flirted. They all lingered. They all remembered things I’d said days ago my favourite snack, my dog’s name, the book I was reading. And they weren’t exactly subtle.

“Isn’t it my turn to be in your chair first today?” Joseph asked one morning, raising a brow as Charles tried to cut ahead in the queue.

“I think we should make her breakfast before makeup,” Will said casually, stirring his protein shake. “You know. Keep her sweet.”

“You lot are going to give me a headache,” I muttered, cheeks burning.

The other makeup artists teased me mercilessly. They could see it clear as day the quiet little war happening between the three of them, using compliments, winks and ridiculous attempts to one-up each other.

“They’re obsessed with you,” Priya, one of the prosthetic techs, whispered to me during lunch. “I’ve never seen men act so pathetic over foundation.”

“I don’t even know what to do,” I admitted. “They’re all lovely. And stupidly attractive. And...”

“And you like them all,” she grinned.

I groaned, dropping my head to the table.

The thing was, she wasn’t wrong. Joseph was gentle and thoughtful. Will made me laugh when I was exhausted. Charles could light up the whole room with one smile. They were each so different and somehow each had a piece of my attention.

It was never mean-spirited between them, never anything more than playful competitiveness. They were mates off-camera, professionals when it counted, but when it came to me… they didn’t hide their interest. They teased, flirted, lingered always lingering.

One particularly cold morning, Joseph sat in the makeup trailer as I painted grime along his jaw. I noticed he wasn’t watching his phone or a script he was watching me.

“What?” I asked, not looking up.

“You’ve got paint on your nose,” he said softly.

I paused, blinked, then reached for a tissue. He caught my wrist gently, his fingers brushing mine. “Let me.”

He wiped it away, so slowly it felt more like a caress than a clean-up. My heart hammered.

“Alright, Romeo,” Will called from across the room. “Some of us need our faces done too.”

“Back of the queue, Poulter,” Charles added, striding in like he owned the place. “She’s working on her favourite.”

“She is not,” I said, flustered. “You’re all the worst.”

They grinned at me in unison. I hated them. I really, really didn’t.

Later that week, we were on set filming a brutal scene. Mud everywhere. Blood. Screaming. Chaos. I spent twelve hours reapplying splatter and shouting over generators. When we finally wrapped, my hands were stiff from the cold, my shoulders aching. I collapsed in a chair, exhausted.

“Here,” a voice said. A warm hoodie was draped over my shoulders. Will.

“You’ll catch your death,” Joseph said, handing me a hot drink.

“I’ve got snacks,” Charles added, flopping into the chair beside me and offering crisps.

I blinked at the three of them.

“This is getting ridiculous,” I said, voice wobbling between laughter and confusion. “You’re all going to drive me mad.”

“Maybe,” Will said, smile soft, “but at least you’ll be warm, fed, and loved.”

The word hung there. Loved.

They meant it as a joke, I think. Or maybe they didn’t.

I looked at each of them. Three stupidly beautiful, kind, funny men. And me covered in dirt, overwhelmed, and falling for all of them.

God help me.

I tried to ignore it the way my stomach fluttered when Joseph handed me his script to hold while he ate, or how Will always waited outside the trailer with two coffees like it was the most natural thing in the world. Or how Charles would lean against the mirror behind me as I powdered his face, looking far too amused by how flustered I got when he winked.

But ignoring it became impossible once the teasing turned into something else.

It started with a late wrap one evening. Everyone was tired, crew milling around like zombies. Joseph had gone back to his trailer, Will had been pulled into ADR, and I was packing up my station alone when Charles walked in.

“Thought you’d need a hand,” he said, already rolling up his sleeves.

“You’re not qualified,” I said, smiling despite myself.

“True,” he grinned. “But I’ve seen you clean fake blood off six men in one day. Pretty sure you deserve an assistant.”

I let him help. He wiped down palettes while I packed brushes, talking about LA and how British weather was “bullying” him. At some point, he fell quiet.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You alright?”

I looked up, surprised. “Yeah, just tired.”

“You work harder than anyone here,” he said. “I see it.”

I froze, throat tightening.

“And for what it’s worth,” he added, “you’ve got three idiots practically falling over themselves for you. Just… don’t let it stress you out. Don’t let us stress you out.”

The honesty in his voice hit harder than I expected.

“Thanks, Charles,” I said. And for the first time, I let myself lean into him a little when he hugged me.

The next morning, Joseph showed up early earlier than anyone else.

“I brought you this,” he said, handing me a blueberry muffin and a coffee.

“You’re making a habit of spoiling me,” I teased.

He shrugged, then looked at me properly. “I’m not trying to compete. Just want to be someone who makes your day easier.”

My heart tripped.

And Will… well, Will cornered me at lunch.

“I have a question,” he said, sliding his tray next to mine.

“Dangerous.”

He laughed. “If I told you I liked you. like, actually liked you would that ruin this friendship-slash-weird-work-flirting-thing we’ve got going?”

I blinked, mouth half-full of crisps.

“Because I do. Like you. I think you’re brilliant. And I’d hate to make things awkward, but I also don’t want to wait around while Quinn and Melton charm you with their dimples.”

I swallowed. “Will”

“I know,” he said quickly. “It’s a lot. You don’t have to say anything. Just… wanted you to know.”

I sat there in silence, unsure how the hell I’d ended up in the middle of the Warfare dating game.

That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. I liked them all. For different reasons. Joseph’s softness. Will’s wit. Charles’ confidence.

But more than anything, I liked how seen they made me feel. Like I wasn’t just the girl behind the brush like I was worth noticing.

The problem was: who did I want?

And could I choose without breaking hearts?

I should’ve known it was all going to boil over.

The teasing. The soft looks. The coffees and the half-meant touches. It had started as something harmless. Fun, even. But lately, the edges had begun to sharpen.

It started small. Little jabs disguised as banter.

“Did Charles tell you he’s allergic to continuity?” Will muttered one afternoon, eyes on the mirror as I dabbed a gash onto his cheek. “He wiped off half his dirt yesterday before we even got to the scene.”

I tried to laugh. “Be nice.”

Will raised his brows. “I’m just saying… some of us take this seriously.”

Two hours later, Joseph slid into the chair, tossing me a grin that made my heart stutter.

“You look exhausted,” he said gently. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” I said, trying not to melt as he brushed his fingers over my wrist like he’d done it a hundred times before.

Then he looked in the mirror, eyes narrowing. “Why’s Will got that burn mark down his temple? His character was facing away from the blast.”

“I thought it worked?” I offered, surprised.

He shrugged. “Maybe. Just not what we discussed yesterday.”

My stomach twisted.

They were starting to use me. My time. My choices as a new battlefield.

Later that day, Charles pulled me aside.

“They’re acting like kids,” he muttered, jerking his chin toward Will and Joe, who were sat across the craft table glaring at each other between mouthfuls of pasta. “This whole ‘quiet war’ thing they’ve got going? It’s getting pathetic.”

I looked at him, lips parted. “You mean about me?”

He gave a dry laugh. “Who else?”

I pressed my forehead to my hand. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know,” Charles said. “But it did. And honestly, sweetheart… they’re not going to back off.”

Then, he stepped closer. “Neither am I.”

That night, I went home exhausted emotionally wrecked. I tried to sleep, but my phone kept buzzing.

Will: Sorry if I was weird today. I just don’t like the way Charles looks at you.

Joseph: Hope you got home okay. I miss our quiet chats. The others don’t see you like I do.

Charles: For the record, I don’t need to play nice to want you. Just saying.

I stared at the screen, heart hammering.

What the hell was I supposed to do?

The next morning on set was tense. Joe barely spoke. Will was quiet but clipped. Charles cracked jokes like usual, but I saw the way his eyes tracked every time I leaned close to one of the others to adjust their prosthetics.

It all came to a head at lunch.

I was sitting outside, eating in peace, when Joseph sat down beside me. Moments later, Charles plopped down on the other side. Will followed, pulling up a chair directly across from me.

I blinked. “This is… a lot.”

Joseph cut into his sandwich, eyes flicking to Charles. “So. What are we all doing here?”

Charles smiled like it was a challenge. “Lunch. You?”

“Watching the games begin,” Will muttered.

And that’s when I cracked.

“Guys,” I said, voice sharp. “I’m not some prize at the end of a mission. I’m literally here to cover you in dirt and fake blood, not to be the centre of some testosterone-filled turf war.”

They fell silent.

“I like all of you,” I admitted. “I care about all of you. But this? This isn’t fair. Not to me. Not to yourselves. It’s childish.”

Will shifted, biting the inside of his cheek. “You’re right.”

Joseph nodded. “Sorry.”

Charles just sighed, pushing his tray back. “Didn’t mean to make you feel caught in the middle.”

I exhaled.

The silence that followed was somehow heavier than all the teasing before.

But later much later as I touched up Will’s cut lip before a close-up, he glanced at me and said softly, “For what it’s worth, I’d rather lose the game than lose you.”

And my heart did that stupid, aching twist again.

Filming was halfway through the shoot schedule, and the dust on set wasn’t the only thing making my skin itch.

Since the showdown at lunch, the tension had shifted. Less combative. More restrained. Like each of them had quietly agreed to dial it back for my sake. Still, the air buzzed with something unsaid every time I walked into a trailer or lingered too long next to someone’s chair.

It didn’t help that I still hadn’t made a decision.

How do you choose between three incredible men all so different, all making you feel so seen?

Will was warm. Kind in a way that grounded me. He made me laugh when I was losing it with prosthetic glue and broken airbrushes. His steadiness made my heart feel safe.

Joseph was intense. Thoughtful. He listened in a way no one else did, asking questions that left me wondering how someone could care so deeply. And when he smiled. Really smiled I felt like I was the only one in the room.

Then there was Charles. Effortlessly charming. Confident, but never cocky when it counted. There was something electric about him. A spark that made me feel wanted like I wasn’t just admired, but chosen.

I thought I could keep navigating it.

Until one of them flipped the script.

It was a Friday early wrap and most of the crew had headed to the nearby pub for drinks. I wasn’t really in the mood, so I wandered back to my trailer, still picking fake blood out from under my nails, when I saw it.

A note stuck to my door.

“Come to the field just outside of set. -J”

My heart thudded. Joseph. Of course it was him. He’d been quieter the past few days, less flirty, more present. He watched me like he was waiting for something not pressuring, just hoping.

I debated for all of three seconds before setting off down the gravel path toward the backlot.

By the time I got to the field, the sun had dipped low painting the sky in streaks of lavender and gold. And there he was.

Joseph Quinn.

Standing next to a folding table covered in takeaway containers, a little speaker playing Fleetwood Mac, and what looked like a mini picnic setup in the middle of the bloody war zone set.

He grinned as I approached. “I figured if I was going to compete, I may as well raise the bar.”

My throat tightened. “Joe…”

“No pressure,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I wanted you to know how I feel.”

He stepped closer, gaze sincere.

“You’re the best part of every day, Y/N. I mean that. I know you’ve got choices, and I don’t blame you for not choosing yet. But I couldn’t go another day without putting my cards on the table.”

I blinked, already overwhelmed.

He gestured to the table. “So, I asked the catering lot to pack up your favourites. I bribed the interns to help me set this up. And I stole this blanket from Will’s trailer, so don’t tell him.”

Despite myself, I laughed full and warm. “You did all this?”

He nodded. “Because I want you to know I’m not just flirting. This isn’t a phase for me. I’m not interested in beating Will or Charles. I’m interested in you.”

I swallowed hard. “Joe, this is…”

“A lot?” he offered.

“Amazing,” I corrected, voice barely above a whisper.

And just like that, the rest of the world blurred.

We sat on the blanket, eating lukewarm chips and laughing about the day’s chaos on set. He didn’t push. Didn’t expect anything. He just was honest and open and unfiltered.

At one point, I rested my head on his shoulder, and he didn’t move or tense or make a joke.

He just said, “I know it’s messy. But I’m here. However long it takes.”

And that? That might’ve been the moment I felt the scales tip.

When I walked onto set the next morning, something was… off.

Not the usual chaos of someone forgetting to charge the fake blood pumps, or an extra passing out from heat in full military gear. No, this was personal.

I could feel it in the way Will glanced up from his script a second too long before forcing a smile.

Or the way Charles, always the first to greet me with a wink or cheeky line, simply nodded from his chair, jaw a bit too tight.

I knew immediately.

They knew.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. This set was worse than high school everyone knew everything within 24 hours, especially when Joseph had somehow managed to hijack catering staff, interns, and Will’s actual blanket.

Still, the awkwardness made my stomach coil.

Joseph gave me a small smile as I passed him in the corridor, a sort of soft reassurance that made my cheeks heat. But even he looked a little uneasy, as if he knew he’d crossed a line with the other guys.

And to be fair… he had.

By lunch, the tension had gone from awkward to borderline unbearable.

Charles cornered me outside the trailers, sunglasses perched on his head, chewing a protein bar like it had personally offended him.

“So,” he started casually, “romantic picnic in a fake battlefield, huh?”

I sighed. “Charles”

“Look, I’m not mad,” he cut in, holding up a hand. “I just didn’t realise we were doing all that. Thought we were still in the friendly banter, cheeky flirting phase. But hey, if Joe’s pulling out grand gestures, I’m not about to lose this without putting up a fight.”

And with that, he walked off leaving me standing there, slightly horrified and oddly flattered.

Will found me later in the make-up trailer, staring into my kit like the fake scab materials held all of life’s answers.

He slid onto the stool next to me. “You alright?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Just… navigating some unexpected theatrics.”

Will gave a small chuckle. “You mean Joe’s battlefield picnic?”

I winced. “Word really travels.”

He shrugged. “He used my blanket. Not exactly subtle.”

“Are you… angry?”

Will shook his head, thoughtful. “No. Maybe a bit gutted. But mostly annoyed at myself for not doing something sooner.”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

He looked me straight in the eye, that soft steadiness I always admired settling into his gaze.

“I’ve been playing it safe. Flirting here and there, sharing snacks, waiting for the right moment. But I should’ve known I was never really the only one seeing how brilliant you are.”

My heart thudded. “Will…”

“I’m not here to compete,” he said. “I’m here to make sure you know how I feel. So… I booked us something. Not a picnic. Something better.”

I frowned. “Better?”

He grinned, sheepish. “A massage van. Full service. Hot stones, aromatherapy, all of it. Comes tonight after wrap. I figured… you never stop. You’re always looking after everyone else, fixing bruises and burns and gore. Thought maybe you deserved someone to look after you.”

I genuinely didn’t know what to say. My chest felt tight and not in the bad way.

“You booked me a massage?”

Will shrugged, that signature soft smile returning. “You deserve to feel good. Even if just for an hour.”

I was already tearing up when he added, “And I’ll be waiting outside with hot chocolate. No pressure. Just company.”

And just like that… another gesture. Another moment where one of them saw me not the game, not the flirting me.

Later that night, after the massage (which nearly made me weep from sheer relief), I stepped out of the van to find Will exactly where he said he’d be. Sat on a bench, two cups of hot chocolate in hand, a blanket over his shoulders.

We didn’t talk much. We didn’t need to.

And if that wasn’t confusing enough, the next morning was Charles’ turn.

I entered the make-up trailer to find my station… transformed.

A bouquet of sunflowers sat next to my brushes, a ridiculous gold crown with “Queen of the Set” written in glitter letters, and a laminated list titled “101 Reasons Why Charles Melton Thinks You’re Bloody Brilliant.”

I was already laughing when he poked his head in. “Too much?”

“Yes,” I said, grinning, “and also exactly right.”

He winked. “Good. I’m not losing to British manners or battlefield candlelight. War is war.”

Three men. Three gestures. Three very different ways of saying, I see you. I want you. Choose me.

And me? I was absolutely spiralling.

Because it wasn’t just a game anymore. It was real. And soon, I’d have to stop smiling my way through the chaos and actually face the fire.

But for now… I was going to enjoy the warmth.

Pick your own ending

Joseph ending

Will ending

Charles ending

[siawritez]

i had this thought in the middle bc i am a Very gay petson about yujin 😋😋 so like reader tries to make dinner for yujin cuz shes busy and wanted to do smth for her girl😚 but reader is not a great cook🙁 so when yujin came she saw reader with food burnt and she starts sobbing cuzz she wanted to do smth for yujin for once but! yujin decides to have another type of meal by eating reader out 😋

It was supposed to be a drabble,but i kinda got carried away. It's still a drabble, tho....also i really loved request and being a gay person for yujin,is totally acceptable and normal...as a society we should embrace it more....

You were proud of yourself for exactly three minutes.

The moment the fire alarm screeched and thick smoke curled up from the pan like an ominous spirit, you knew things had gone off track. Again.

The pasta was… not pasta anymore. The sauce had congealed into a suspicious brown sludge. The garlic bread had become charcoal, and you'd dropped the salad bowl on the floor in your panic—shards of porcelain glinting like your broken dreams.

You blinked rapidly, tears welling up as you stared at the disaster zone you once called a kitchen. All you'd wanted was one night. One meal. One simple surprise for your girlfriend, Ahn Yujin, who'd spent the past month on planes and concert stages and barely sleeping in her own bed. She always did so much for you. You just wanted to give her something.

But you sucked at cooking. And you’d known that. And now, as smoke clung to your hoodie and tears dripped down your cheeks, you felt more than stupid—you felt useless.

You were still frozen there, blinking through the blurry sting of smoke and emotion, when the front door clicked open.

"Baby?" Yujin’s voice echoed through the apartment, followed by the thump of her bag hitting the floor. "Something smells...burnt?"

Your heart sank.

She appeared in the doorway a second later, still in her oversized hoodie and ballcap, strands of dark hair falling over her eyes. She stopped cold, eyes wide.

You stood there, sniffling, clutching a spatula like it was a weapon and a shield. “I was trying to surprise you,” you croaked.

Her brows furrowed, her gaze sweeping over the room—smoke, crumbs, shattered glass, a blackened baking tray on the stove—and then back to you. “Oh, baby…”

“I just…” You tried to speak but your throat closed. “I know you’ve been tired, and you always cook or bring food or just… do everything, and I wanted to do something for you this time. Just one nice thing. But I ruined it.”

Tears fell faster now, and your hand trembled. You looked down, ashamed. “I can’t even boil pasta right.”

Yujin didn’t say anything. She walked straight toward you, boots tapping across the tile, and you flinched when you felt her arms wrap around your waist. She held you tight, pressing your head into her shoulder, her cheek resting against your hair.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” she murmured, her voice warm and low. “You tried. For me. That means everything.”

“But the food is—”

“Fuck the food.” She leaned back slightly, cupping your cheeks, her thumbs brushing your tears. “You made a mess. So what? It's kind of adorable. You smell like burnt toast, and I still think you’re the cutest thing in this entire city.”

A weak laugh escaped your lips, and Yujin kissed your forehead, soft and lingering.

Then her gaze dipped lower—past your lips, down to the streak of sauce on your hoodie, and then to the counter behind you.

“You know,” she said slowly, her tone shifting into something silkier, “I am starving.”

You blinked. “I can order something. I’ll clean this up first—”

She shook her head. “No need.”

Yujin stepped forward until your back hit the counter. Her hands slid to your waist, fingers dipping under the hem of your hoodie.

Your breath caught. “W-What are you doing?”

She leaned in, nose brushing yours. “You wanted to feed me, right?”

You flushed. “Y-Yeah…”

“Then let me have a taste of you instead.”

Your mouth opened but no words came. Before you could gather a thought, Yujin kissed you—deep and slow, like she had all the time in the world now that she was home. Her hands tugged your hoodie up and over your head, tossing it somewhere behind her. Your bra followed soon after.

“Counter,” she said against your lips. “Up.”

You obeyed, still dazed, hoisting yourself onto the edge of the counter. Yujin slipped between your thighs with ease, palms gliding up your bare thighs as she kissed down your neck.

“You work so hard to love me,” she murmured. “Let me return the favor.”

Her fingers hooked into your waistband, tugging your pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. The cold air kissed your skin, followed quickly by the heat of her breath.

“I should come home to this mess more often,” she whispered, eyes gleaming as she knelt. “My favorite kind of meal.”

And then her mouth was on you—slow and deliberate, her tongue moving with expert ease, drawing shaky moans from your throat. Your hands gripped the counter edge, knuckles white as your hips arched toward her. She tasted you like she meant it, humming softly with every flick and curl of her tongue.

You cried earlier for burning pasta. Now you cried again, from the overwhelming warmth blooming through your chest and between your legs.

Yujin didn’t stop until your thighs were trembling and your cries had turned into her name, broken and breathless.

When she finally stood again, she kissed your lips—your taste still on her tongue—and rested her forehead against yours.

“Dinner was perfect,” she whispered.

You laughed, dizzy and flushed. “I don’t think this is what most people mean by ‘homemade meal.’”

Yujin smirked. “Good. Because I’m not most people. I’m yours.”

And she kissed you again—hungry and full, just like she said she was.

......

[joyful-lurker]

ONYS STORM SPOILERS!!!

I know there's a lot of people out there who think the venin brother is garrick, and there's all these theories around, but surely we're seeing it's Bhodi? All the dots line up. It's all the same writing of being plainly there but not explicitly stated like every other reveal that's happened in the books. He has the motive - not being 'strong' enough to fight the venin with his signet. He has the opportunity - Rebecca has always told us to look who's missing, and he disappears from the action after his powers don't work. He clearly isn't in charge of tyrrendor at the end of the book when he's the heir and the clear successor if Xaden is out of commission. It's also always pointed out how similar he is to Xaden, the other person we know about who turned in the heat of battle because he didn't have enough power to fight the venin. I'm not shitting on anyone for their theories. Variety is the spice of life, and you pop off with your theories. That's what makes these book fandoms fun, honestly. But let's be clear, all the evidence says it's Bhodi.

[attractthecrows]

brooo i hate having Dreams That Piss You Off i woke up all pissed off at NOTHIIINNNNNGGGGG

[skibasyndrome]

So one thing I've always loved about uni/studying/learning new things is when you have different subjects or different tiny dots of knowledge and slowly, as you learn more and more, those tiny splashes of knowledge are becoming less isolated, and you realize that it's all connected and - at least with my subjects being in the humanities - you sort of “unlock” this new perspective on a certain aspect of the human condition. And like, that's fun enough and - if I'm being honest - probably my favorite thing about studying already as it is, BUT NOW, now that I've finally gotten back into writing as a hobby this is just ANOTHER dimension for me to expand that knowledge into and to use that knowledge for. And I am absolutely living for it. So happy to be back on my bullshit and so happy to be at a place in my life where these two passions of mine fit so seamlessly together and one passion benefits from the other and vice versa

[kingkaisen]

𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒!

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: JJK men & their nasty, perverted habits . . . ft. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, & choso.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: MINORS DNI — fem! reader, reader wears a dress, drinking, smut, grinding, whining, riding, masturbation, panty stealing, touching, creampie, penetration, unprotected, etc.

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐘! - NANAMI

Kento Nanami is a gentleman.

He always opens doors for you, never shows up late for dates, and is truly an old-fashioned romantic.

However, he just can’t keep his hands to himself.

The two of you are attending an important gathering related to his corporate job. There’s expensive drinks, classical music, and soft chatter.

You and Nanami make your way around, engaging in small talk while sipping on champagne, and Nanami’s large hand is pressed against your back.

You’re having a conversation with the wife of his boss, and Nanami’s hand starts to go lower and lower, and he grabs your ass rather quickly. You keep your composure, but Nanami’s breath hitches a bit as he clears his throat.

Feeling your ass, even just for a second, was starting to make him lose control.

“Sorry, if you’ll excuse us for a moment,” Nanami suddenly says before dragging you away.

He takes you into one of the bathrooms and shoves you up against the sink.

“Kento,” you whine. “We’re at a gathering.”

“I know,” he whispers into your ear. “I just can’t keep my hands off of you.”

Nanami starts to grind his hard, clothed dick against your ass, moaning softly.

You simply looked too phenomenal in that dress. As his hard cock strains painfully against the fabric of his pants, the only form of relief came when your ass rubbed against it.

“We need to leave,” he grips your hips, pressing himself against you even more as you gripped the edges of the bathroom counter. “If I don’t take you home now, I’ll cum right in my pants.”

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐑! - GOJO

Satoru Gojo was ready to stuff you with his seed as soon as you both made it home after your wedding.

He had often dreamed about having children with you, but in particular, he wanted to fill you up until he couldn’t physically cum anymore.

Gojo thrusted in and out of you at a quick pace. His hand was pressed underneath your knee as he held your leg back, as close to your chest as he could. You could feel him inside of you even more that way. The thick veins running along his cock rubbed your walls deliciously, and the way your body jerked from his thrusts were starting to make you dizzy.

And he couldn’t get enough. By now, he had finished inside of you already, but he had to do it a second time. Perhaps, a third time as well.

His balls tightened as another orgasm started to overwhelm him, and he groaned.

“I’m gonna cum again, baby,” he warned. “I’m gonna cum deep inside of you. You’re gonna take it all for me, right?”

You nodded eagerly.

“I gotta fill you up — I have to.” As another load of his cum shot out of his aching dick and inside of you, he pressed a hand down against your stomach.

“You feel it?” He continued to thrust and moan. He needed to stuff you as much as he could. “You feel my cum, don’t you?”

“There’s so much of it,” you said with a soft moan.

He was still cumming and cumming, and it didn’t seem like he would ever stop. And, god, he hoped he wouldn’t somehow.

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇! - GETO

Suguru Geto was a man who always knew what to say. His words were always powerful and wise.

They were also downright filthy, too.

No matter where you both were — at dinner in a nice restaurant, in the movie theater, at the airport — Geto couldn’t help but press his lips against your ear, and whisper something he knew would get your panties wet.

Today in particular, you were both at the grocery store, waiting in line patiently with a cart full of food.

Suddenly, Geto pressed himself against your backside. To nearby shoppers, he simply seemed like an affectionate partner, but you knew what was coming.

Geto leaned down a bit, his warm breath patting against your ear.

“Let’s head home after this. I really wanna eat your pussy before dinner. Let’s see how much of your cum I can swallow.”

“Suguru,” you whispered softly. “We’re in public.”

“No one can hear me, sweet girl. I bet I could reach my hand into your pants and rub your clit, and no one would notice. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I-”

“Shhh,” he smiled a bit, although you couldn’t see it. “Don’t worry. I’ll wait until we get home, but once we do, we’re gonna fuck and fuck all night long.”

He gave your ear a slow, little lick, and stepped away from you, grinning as he started to put the groceries on the conveyor belt.

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐘! - CHOSO

“Please,” a soft, desperate whine fell from Choso’s lips. “Make me cum again, please.”

The gorgeous guy started to squirm around beneath you, attempting to raise his hips, chasing the feeling of your tight cunt around him.

“Ride me again,” Choso gripped your hips. “Please ride me again.”

He couldn’t wait any longer. Slowly, he started to glide you up and down along his cock, moaning softly.

“You’re so impatient,” you teased. Despite your words, you helped him out by pressing your hands against his chest, and riding him once again.

“Oh my god,” Choso whispered. “Feels so good. Don’t stop, okay? I need to cum again.”

Your pussy milked his cock until he could no longer form any coherent sentences.

“Baby, please . . . shit, baby. I can’t hold it, I can’t- please, oh fuck.”

Moan after moan fell from between his pretty lips, and without warning — he couldn’t speak well enough to say anything — Choso shot another load of cum right inside of you.

You both paused to catch your breath, but not for long, as Choso started to squirm around once again.

“Another,” he whined softly. “Don’t stop, please. Do it again . . . I wanna cum again.”

𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑! - TOJI

When Toji Fushiguro asked to come to your house, you thought nothing of it.

It wasn’t unusual for him to come over, but little did you know, he had a habit of snooping around.

He liked to see what kind of things you had in your home, and eventually, he knew by heart what brand of toothpaste you preferred and whether you kept certain condiments in the fridge or in the cabinet.

But, his favorite place to snoop was in your bedroom.

Often, he’d say, “I’m gonna go piss,” while getting up from the couch and making his way down the hall. But he never went into the bathroom.

He’d go into your bedroom instead and open your drawer, growing hard at the sight of your undergarments.

He’d typically just steal one pair of panties and shove them into his pocket.

But it wasn’t good enough.

After all, your underwear smelled like detergent. It didn’t smell like you — or, more specifically, your sweet pussy.

That was when he snuck into your laundry room and went into your dirty clothes hamper, digging until he found the perfect pair of used panties.

He shoved them into his pocket, and returned to the living room.

Later on, when he got home, he put those panties right into his mouth, jerking off as he daydreamed about eating your pussy. It was magical, especially now that he knew how it would taste.

Then, he laced those panties around his hard cock, fucking his fist as he shot load after load into the soft material, moaning your name as he did so.

🏷: @sad-darksoul

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

no doubt ── s. jy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

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

Like, there was no other option.  

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

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

Nothing alike. 

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

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

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

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

The universe was taking notes.  

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

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

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

You two—just like your moms—were inseparable.  

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

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

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

"Did they ask for your social security number?"  

"Y/N."  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not a single bag is packed.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pickles enhance flavor too!"  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. Of course. Jenn.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N?"  

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake's body is on autopilot at this point.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s something else, something harder to name. 

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

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

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

It’s logical. Nothing more. 

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

Obviously. Nothing more. 

He presses call.  

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

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

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

He doesn't want to hang up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what?” 

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

Your voice softens at his sudden vulnerability. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

But now, with you, it feels different. 

Safer, easier. Natural.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In both a comforting and terrifying way. 

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

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

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

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

But he can't help himself.  

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

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

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

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

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

"Goodnight, Y/N."  

"Goodnight, Jake."  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Done. What size?” 

"The oversized one."  

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

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

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

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

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

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

In both a comforting and terrifying way.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're so weird."  

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

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

"Debatable."  

“Liar.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not yet.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Goodnight, Jake."  

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

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

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

And maybe—just maybe—he knows it too.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He lets out an exhale—shaky, but relieved.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Only because you said so."  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Always, Jake." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m allergic to flowers.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he wonders if it’s you. 

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

Key term: supposed to be.

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

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

Freedom was a lie.

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

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

Big mistake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you always did. 

And Jake always lets you.

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

It was instinctual at this point.

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

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

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

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

Spoiler alert: it doesn't.

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

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

Casual. Normal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Answer: Jake.

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

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

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

And then it hits.

Like, really hits.

Oh my god. I like her.

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

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

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

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

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

It's exhilarating.

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

This was pure. Simple, clear, and undeniable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Obviously. 

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

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

He presses call.

The line rings twice before you answer.

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

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

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

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

Yeah, he definitely likes you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And what's that?"

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

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

"I like you, Y/N."

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

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

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

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

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

"Jake..."

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

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

Because he means it, every word.

He's never meant anything more.

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

“I like you, Y/N.” 

No, not like. Really, really like. 

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

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

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

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

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

But then, came the fear. 

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

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

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

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

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

You were risking everything. 

And the worst part? 

You were already halfway there. 

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

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

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

You were already his. 

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

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

You were his. Completely. 

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

"Y/N?"  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A beat of silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jungwon."  

"Exactly."  

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

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

“Yeah, but—” 

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

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

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

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

“Then what are you waiting for?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then you remember Jungwon's words.  

You deserve this.  

And so does Jake.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure, Jake?"  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart stutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jake..."  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A playlist? You—wait, why?”  

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

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

And aced it.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake.  

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

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

Not exactly something you can Google.  

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

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

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

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

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

Any second now.  

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

Simultaneously.  

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

And then the door swings open.  

"SURPRISE!"  

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

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

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

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

But then, finally, his eyes land on you.  

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

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

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

He looks away.  

He looks away.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N!"  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jungwon." 

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

"Jungwon!"  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jake!"  

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

"Y/N."  

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

Now it feels like an afterthought. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

A shrug.  

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

As if they never belonged to you.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Jake who made promises.  

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

Maybe you were just someone to fill the time.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey...isn't that—"  

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

Because just like that, your world crumbles.  

There she is—Jenn.  

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

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

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

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

The way he smiles at her.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You glance over your shoulder, and there he is.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N."  

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

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

And you hate it.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because he knows Jake isn't lying.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet, you can't stop.  

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath catches.  

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

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

Fear. Hope. Doubt. 

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

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

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

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

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

You hit send.  

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

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

“Y/N?” 

His voice. Jake’s voice.  

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

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

"Hi," Jake says softly.  

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

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

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

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

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

Your lips twitch subconsciously, despite everything.  

"Jake, you're literally allergic."  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you do.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And a start is all you need.  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

epilogue:

“Hi, pretty.”  

“Hi, Jake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re exhausting.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raise an eyebrow, "My bed."  

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

You pause. "Maybe. Just a little."  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Jakey,” you tease, letting the smirk creep into your voice, peeking an eye open just to catch his reaction. 

Jake groans dramatically, running a hand down his face, “Y/N…not this again.”  

You giggle, the fondness within you growing tenfold as you take in his face—the slight pout of his lips, his messy hair, his eyes shining with unwavering adoration for you. 

“I said I love youuu,” he whines, dragging out the last word, his lips tugging into the tiniest of smiles, his entire universe reflecting from his eyes.  

Finally, you give in, smiling sweetly.  

“I love you, too, Jake. You already know.”  

And you’ve never meant anything more.  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

Songs that Remind me of Y/N:

From the first call to forever—you've always been my favorite melody.   Yours, Jake <3

"As I Am" – Justin Bieber (ft. Khalid)  

"Daylight" – Taylor Swift 

"DIE 4 YOU" - Dean 

"Psycho, Pt. 2" – Russ 

"Heaven" – Bazzi 

"Every Kind of Way" – H.E.R. 

"Off My Face" – Justin Bieber 

"Before You" – Benson Boone 

"Sunflower" – Post Malone & Swae Lee 

"Pink + White" – Frank Ocean

"No Doubt" – Enhypen <3 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

update! if you enjoyed this and want more of no doubt!jake & y/n, check out my sequel series linked here for drabbles of their relationship <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! if you made it all the way, this is for you:

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡♡♡♡♡♡

p.s. i wanted to leave the ending kinda up to interpretation—hence the time skip to a year later..but lowkey what if i wrote short drabbles/scenes of things jake does to gain Y/N's trust again, from small to big gestures etc etc..lmk if that's something anyone would wanna see !! (update — linked above now!)

<3, addie

m.list here!

tag list (love you all <3):

(i hope it let me tag everyone!)

@thesassy-mia @ikeulove @renaishun @xylatox @puma-riki @blackberryrains @dreamiestay @junislqve @lamin143 @dreamy-carat @etherealhan @vvenusoncasual @belovedsthings @somuchdard @sumzysworld @mirouie @almondtofu006 @fancypeacepersona @vivimura @hollxe1 @missthang600 @sugarikiz @sanasour @enhamonsterghoul @etherealriki

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Between these four walls

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

genre: thriller/sci-fi, smut, fluff

synopsis: lee felix is your 89% match. please proceed to the house assigned to you where your relationship will be subjected to various tests. if you manage to complete all objectives and get your match to 100% you may proceed to leave. sex is strictly prohibited. remember, they're always watching.

wc: 13.4k

warnings: desc. of drowning, illness, drugging, tripping (psychedelics/stimulants), mention of needles, paralysis, gutting a fish (yes that's a warning), some blood

nsfw warnings: fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, spanking, cumshot

a/n: felix always inspires me for these kinds of concepts. i hope you enjoy💜

~ divider by @anitalenia

~ masterlist

Lee Felix. 89% match. Congratulations!

You stared at the device in your hand, your heartbeat picking up speed. Finally. Finally you had someone you matched with. The last time you tried a similar, underdeveloped program like this, it only led you to more disappointment and heartbreak.

But, everyone you knew was raving about Cupid Corp. and how they found the love of their life after participating in their program. You asked questions, curious about why they stayed so long in the Cupid Corp. village, what they had to do to get their match to a 100, to walk out with them hand in hand.

Their faces would change from the happy expressions and shiny eyes into something dull, drained of color.

"We signed a document that prohibits us from revealing anything." they'd answer.

It all sounded so mysterious and a little alarming but you were so damn tired of being lonely and seeing all these people walking out of Cupid Corp. with big dumb smiles on their faces.

So, after doing some thinking, you applied.

It was a long process, to say the least. There were tests you had to take, all of them online. Starting with a psychological test, then an IQ test, then a personality test. It took them a month as they asked for everything, from your family disease history to your hopes and dreams for the future.

The more data they gathered, the more detailed your profile became. You even had a few online interviews with a woman named 'Cherry' whose face you couldn't see as she was wearing some sort of mask, only her cherry red lips were visible to you.

"We will take your data into consideration and calculate the best match. Thank you for applying at Cupid Corp. We hope you find your dream lover." the woman talked in a monotone voice.

You didn't wait for too long. Only four days later, you got a package from them, inside it a round device with a screen and one button. You pressed it and when it came to life you were greeted with your match. Just his name and the percentage.

With it, you got a document that stated the location of the village as well as your house number, 14B and a ton of rules, most of them prohibiting you from talking about the activities and 'tests' inside the village as well as a 'no cellphone' rule. You thought it was kind of weird, but you didn't want to back out now. Not when you had a match with such a high number.

It can't be so hard to get it up to 100, right?

You read through all the rules, coming up to the last one.

'You and your partner are not allowed to engage in sexual activites during your stay in the village. Kissing and physical touch is fine unless it is erotic or stimulating in that sort of way. After you sign this paper, you have agreed to all the rules above and are aware that you will be filmed and monitored 24/7.'

You gulped, some kind of unease washing over you as you stared at the document. The little cupid drawing that was the company's logo looked so sweet and innocent but it didn't help the churning of your stomach. Taking a deep breath in, you grabbed you pen and signed the paper.

There is no going back now.

As soon as you entered the village through the gate, it felt like you walked right into a fairytale. The houses were all pretty pastel colors with white picked fences and gardens full of all sorts of beautiful flowers. Everything looked perfect.

The only weird thing was that you didn't see another person anywhere as you walked. It was eerily quiet, only your footsteps were echoing on the pavement and the sounds of your suitcase being dragged behind you. The village was far away from the bustling city so you couldn't hear any sound for miles.

Then you saw it, 14B, a pretty pastel blue house and you smiled to yourself, it looked so cute and cozy. Your heart suddenly skipped a beat when you noticed someone standing outside by the fence.

It was a guy close to your age, and as soon as he noticed you coming towards him, a big smile spread on his face. He waved awkwardly and you waved back as you neared him, your heart hammering in your chest. When you got closer to him, your stomach did a little flip.

He is so beautiful!, you thought as you observed his smiling face, his warm chocolate eyes, his plump heart shaped lips and all the pretty freckles adorning his skin.

"I'm Felix. Nice to meet you." he said, pleasantly shocking you with his deep voice.

"Y/n. Nice to meet you too." you smiled, your face burning up. You hoped you didn't look like an awkward tomato in front of this beautiful man, who was your match! You were already swooning over him as he helped you get your suitcase inside, dragging both of your luggage together while you looked around the garden.

"I guess this is our house." he said as the two of you walked in. You noticed right away that it was decorated in the way you wanted to decorate your dream house, a question you had to answer in one of the tests they gave you. You also noticed some knick knacks you didn't recognize, they were probably something Felix wanted to have in his house.

"They really went all out with the decorations." you said as the two of you made your way to the kitchen and Felix chuckled.

"They did." he nodded, the air between you a little awkward.

"Oh. What's this?" you noticed an envelope adressed to the both of you on the kitchen table.

You picked it up and opened it as Felix peered over your shoulder.

"Dear Felix and Y/n. Welcome to our Village of Love! We hope you enjoy your stay, no matter how short or long it is. You'll find everything you need inside your house, we hope you find it cozy and that you settle in well. Take your time to get used to your surroundings and learn a little about each other before you move onto the next phase. Tests will begin shortly. Have fun!" you read out loud before looking up and seeing a camera staring right at you, the red dot blinking.

"Tests, huh? Doesn't sound too fun." Felix said and you nodded.

"No, it doesn't." you shook your head. "Do you know anything about what happens here?"

"I have no idea. I asked a few of my friends and no one would tell me."

"Isn't that kind of suspicious?" you asked and Felix chuckled nervously, looking up at the camera.

"Aren't they like listening to us right now?" he whispered.

"I'm sure everyone who came here wondered about the program." you shrugged.

"I guess we will find out." Felix said, still being somewhat quiet as he kept eyeing the camera.

You walked over to the fridge and opened it, finding all sorts of groceries inside it, mostly your favorite food and probably Felix's.

"Hungry?" you looked back at him and as if on que, his stomach growled.

You giggled and he laughed, the sound filling up your ears and tugging at your heart.

"I'll take that as a yes. Do you wanna cook together?" you asked and he nodded eagerly.

"I'd love that." Felix answered with a sweet smile so the two of you pulled your sleeves up and washed your hands, getting ready to tackle dinner together as you maneuvered the unknown space.

"What made you decide to apply to this program? You don't seem like you'd have a problem finding a partner." you started the conversation and his cheeks became rosy as he chuckled.

"Well, I tend to fall for the wrong people. The ones who use my kindness against me. And I really don't wanna hurt anymore or just experiment and 'try' again. I want to know that I have the real deal, you know? To be sure that the person is my ride or die."

The honesty in his answer took you by surprise.

'I want my partner to always be honest with me, to tell me the truth even if it is painful.'

You remembered the line you wrote when you were asked to put down on paper everything you wanted in a partner. They had probably looked at Felix's personality test as well as yours, and the things you had written down as your dream partner, putting the two of you together that way.

Your cheeks burned as you remembered how high your percentage is. He must really be the man from your dreams which would make you the woman of his. Butterflies swarmed your stomach.

"What about you?" Felix snapped you out of your thoughts as you continued cleaning the meat.

"Oh, same. I was disappointed many times before. I just want to find someone that will feel like home." you smiled at him.

"Exactly." he agreed. "So, what do you think the tests will look like? Do you think they'll be similar to the ones we had to do while applying?"

"My guess is as good as yours. Though, I must admit I do feel a bit uneasy with all the people not being allowed to say what happened while they were here..." you trailed off, before sighing.

"Then again, they all looked so happy with their partners." you finished. "And I want that."

"Yeah, I feel a bit uneasy myself but we'll go through this together, right?" Felix gave you a shy smile and you nodded as your cheeks warmed up.

After cooking dinner and eating, you had learned a bit more about each other, finding it incredibly easy to keep the conversation going like you've already talked many times before, sharing similar viewpoints and interests. It seemed too easy and you knew that you didn't have to necessarily agree on everything or love all the same things to be a match.

There was definitely something deeper there than the superficial stuff like hobbies and favorite colors when you've already gotten to 89% without even interacting with each other.

"Should we do a tour of the house?" Felix asked when you finished cleaning up.

"Sure, let's do it." you smiled and one by one, you visited all of the rooms starting with the living room that was next to the kitchen.

"Oh, we have a tv." you pursed your lips. "I thought we weren't allowed any kind of electronics."

"I guess they thought having movie nights at home is a date we'd both enjoy." Felix pointed to all the dvds on the shelves around the tv. "We have a good collection of every genre. Skipping horror though, I'm not a fan of scary things." he visibly shivered and you chuckled a little.

"I'm fine with those." you said and Felix gasped a little.

"Well if you want us to watch horror movies together just be prepared that I will be hiding behind like five blankets and probably crying my eyes out."

"Aw, it's okay, we don't have to watch them if they scare you so much." you smiled at him, making his heart skip a beat.

"I'll watch them for you. Well, kinda watch them since I'll be under all those protective blankets."

You chuckled together before you made your way upstairs. Your heart immediately skipped a beat and a shiver ran through your entire body when you saw the bed. Of course, you were meant to sleep together in it.

Felix noticed you staring at it, both of your faces red.

"I can sleep downstairs on the couch." he said, as if reading your mind.

"No!" you said a little too quickly. "I mean, I'd feel a lot safer if you were here with me." you admitted sheepishly.

"Oh." his smile was shy. "Then I'll be here with you."

Gosh, he is so sweet!, you thought, feeling overwhelmed that such a sweet person was your very own match. Not even a day with him and he already checked so many of your boxes. You hoped he felt the same for you.

"We have separate bathrooms." Felix noted and you looked to the right to see a door labeled with your name and on the left his name.

"I think there are no cameras in there, so that's why..." he trailed off and immediately you felt your stomach doing flips. They were really making sure you don't do any funny business which was kind of understandable since everything was being filmed. But then again, why wouldn't they make a special room for the two of you? You had so many questions and any possible answer created even more questions.

The two of you then decided to unpack, the sounds of opening and closing drawers filling up the space.

"We have a backyard." Felix said as he stood by the window in your room. "And a pool."

"It looks cozy except the pool. I don't know how to swim." you confessed, shivering a little.

"Really?" Felix looked a bit surprised. "Well, I love swimming so you can sunbathe while I swim?" he added with a giggle.

"I can." you nodded. "The entire house and the neighborhood looks so nice. Which brings me to this, have you seen another person since you got here?" you asked and Felix shook his head no.

"Neither have I. Weird, huh?" you said.

Felix opened his mouth to answer but the sound the doorbell ringing frightened you both.

"Is that... someone at the door?" he lifted one eyebrow.

"Let's go check together." you stood by his side as your heart hammered in your chest.

Felix walked first and you followed behind him, peering over his shoulders as he slowly opened the door.

You were greeted by a smiling woman and man, standing somewhat similarly to you and Felix.

"Hello, sorry to bother you. I'm Gina and this is Ethan. We were paired up today and noticed we were neighbours so we just wanted to say hi."

"Oh." Felix chuckled and you visibly relaxed, now standing beside him.

"This is y/n, and I'm Felix. Nice to meet you." you all shook hands, deciding to meet up tomorrow for breakfast since the program encouraged couples who were paired up at the same time to become friends.

"You okay?" Felix asked after closing the door.

"I just can't shake off this weird feeling." you shook your head.

Felix bit on his lip, his eyes raking all over your form gently as you hugged yourself. Tentatively, he reach out and brushed his knuckles on your cheek.

"I'm sure you just need time to adjust." he smiled, and you shivered from his gentle touch, your eyes fluttering.

"Yeah. Maybe a good night's sleep is all I need."

"There you go. Positive thoughts." Felix smiled brightly, warming you up instantly.

You got ready in your separate bathrooms and you came out first, claiming your side of the bed as you sat, leaning your back against the headboard and fidgeting with your fingers. Felix came in after a minute or so, smiling at you slightly as he hesitantly lifted up the covers and slid in.

"You sure you're okay with this?" he turned to you, his deep brown eyes looking big and doe like.

"Yes, I'm comfortable." you nodded. "You?"

"Of course. Just making sure you feel okay." Felix then smiled sweetly, making your stomach flip again.

"I am." you whispered. "Um, it's just weird not to have my phone to play with before sleeping." you looked around, noticing a stack of books on a shelf.

"Tell me about it. I'm like chronically online, it's a problem." Felix shook his head with a chuckle. "Or like playing videogames. My computer will be so dusty when we get out of here."

You giggled at him as he scrunched up his face and made a cute whiny sound.

"I like videogames too. We should play together soon."

"Wow, you really are the girl of my dreams." Felix looked at you, wiggling his eyebrows and you laughed, your entire body on fire from the giddiness he made you feel.

He slid down then, getting comfy on his side and you followed suit, relaxing between the clean sheets and melting into the soft pillow.

"How long do you think it will take us to get out of here?" you whispered after a few moments of silence.

"I hope not too long." Felix whispered back. "Sweet dreams, y/n." he added after another pause.

"Night, Felix." you smiled before turning on your side and closing your eyes.

You were nervous for what's to come but Felix's presence gave you a sense of comfort and safety you didn't know you needed. Just the sound of his breathing calmed you down and slowly lulled you to sleep.

Your eyes fluttered open and for a moment you were completely confused. You blinked a few times, rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes as you took in your surroundings.

Right. You had come to the Village of Love yesterday, with your match. Which made you turn around quickly and gasp when you noticed the other side of the bed was empty.

"F-Felix?" you said, your voice a little raspy from sleeping. For a moment, you felt the dread creeping in but then you heard clinking, followed by a few curses coming from downstairs.

Upon arriving to the kitchen you were greeted by a frantic and disheveled Felix. You had to supress in a laugh, but it still seeped out in small giggles.

"Oh, y/n!" he exclaimed, turning around with his eyes slightly widened and his pink lips parted. "I barely slept last night so I got up like at 6am? I wanted to make myself useful so I tried making pancakes? I swear they taste better than they look! It's just that I'm usually not a morning person so-"

"Felix." you stopped his rambling, coming closer to him as you chuckled into your palm, your other hand gently placed on his arm to soothe him.

"Felix, it's okay. I'm sure the pancakes are delicious." you looked down at the half burned scraps of pancakes. "It's the thought that counts." you added with a giggle. "Aren't we meeting our neighbors for breakfast anyways?"

"Oh. That's right, we are. I'm silly." he sighed, turning the stove off with a defeated pout.

"You're cute." you said without thinking, your cheeks warming up as soon as those words left your mouth.

"You think so?" Felix chuckled, a little smirk forming on his lips and you nodded as he stared at you intently. "You're cuter." he leaned in, his breath hitting your face and you almost dissolved right then and there.

"Oh, shut up." you chuckled, making him laugh. "Let's go get dressed."

You got ready in your separate bathrooms, wondering how everything will play out for however long you'll be here. You decided to wear a dress with a floral pattern, something comfy and flowy. You hoped Felix would like it as much as you did.

And he seemed to be stunned the moment you walked out of the bathroom, giving you elevator eyes as he gulped visibly, his cheeks becoming rosy. You stood there nervously as he seemed to be lost in a trance.

"Felix?"

"Oh." he looked up at your face, the redness creeping up on his neck. "You look really pretty."

"Thank you." you giggled, your heart rate picking up while he smiled at you.

"Shall we?" he asked, reaching his hand towards you. You nodded, sliding your hand into his, your palms pressed together and fingers entwined.

They fit perfectly together, like two pieces of a puzzle that were waiting to be completed forever.

You met up with Gina and Ethan who were also holding hands, waving at you enthusiastically.

"Morning, neighbors!" Ethan smiled at the two of you.

"Good morning." you smiled back as everyone greeted each other.

"Did you get the map of the village?" Gina asked and Felix nodded.

"Found it in the living room this morning."

"Us too. Isn't it crazy having all these cameras around?" Gina chuckled and you looked around, noticing that all over the neighborhood there were cameras on every lamp post, every driveway, every front door.

The uneasiness settled in your chest again and you squeezed Felix's hand. He looked at you, squeezing back and giving you a small, reassuring smile. The restaurant wasn't too far away, it was a garden with lots of big trees giving shade to the tables, the sweet smell of colorful flowers mixed with the nice smell of food being cooked, making you even more hungry than you were. Finally, you saw other couples, chatting at different tables and you felt much more at ease. It felt normal.

There was soft music playing from the little building where you presumed the kitchen and servers were situated. The four of you found a table near a koi pond, excitement taking over you as you looked at the pretty fishes swimming around.

"I was about to reach for my phone and take a picture." Felix chuckled and Ethan nodded.

"Same." he said and you shook your head, thinking about how you'd probably do the same thing.

You stared at the koi fishes, who seemed to be mindlessly floating back and forth, confined in such a small pond. You wondered if they ever wanted more freedom, a bigger pond or was this all they knew so they could never think about having more space. Maybe they felt safe in a familiar, tiny enviroment.

One of the servers came to your table with a pen and notepad, writing down your orders and snapping you out of your thoughts.

The four of you made small talk before your food arrived.

"At least these pancakes look better than mine." Felix noted when the plate was placed before him and you chuckled.

"So, what do you guys think the tests will look like?" Gina asked suddenly while you ate. You looked up at the camera above your table and swallowed nervously.

"Isn't it kinda like a video game? We got a map of the place, we will have objectives or tests, we got our 'safe room', like our house where we have supplies..." Felix started and Ethan chuckled.

"I just hope there are no zombies or such. Or like damage." he added and the four of you laughed.

"I'm sure it can't be that bad." you said.

"How high is your percentage?" Gina asked.

"89%." you answered and she gasped a little.

"Ours is 74%. I guess we'll be here longer than y'all." she pouted.

"Well, we can't know that. When we have no idea what awaits us." Ethan said. He was right, you had no idea what Cupid Corp. planned out to put your connection to the test. Your eyes fell on the pond again, the koi fishes spinning around and around in circles, the repetitive motion almost making you dizzy.

~

"Do you wanna take a walk around the village?" Felix asked after you parted ways with the friendly couple next door.

"Yeah, sounds good. I need to get some blood flowing in my legs, we sat for so long."

"We did, I think we clicked with them too. Could it be they put us close to each other so we could become friends?" Felix asked when the two of you started walking, your hands entwined again, making your heart beat faster.

"Probably. I have a feeling nothing is random here." you pursed your lips.

"Me too." he agreed.

The village was really something out of a fairytale book. Not only were the houses cute but there was a cute bakery, a gallery, a flower shop, a cafe and a few other stores for groceries and such scattered around. There was even a little park for picnics and a forest to ride your bike or take a walk there. You saw other people working in all the buildings and couples walking around or sitting in the cafe or riding their bikes. It looked different than yesterday, when everything seemed eerily quiet and abandoned.

You and Felix talked about your families and job, getting to know some random facts about each other as you walked around, the sun warming your bodies up. It felt like you knew each other forever.

That evening, you decided to have your first movie night date. After a short debate since you were both indecisive, you settled on Clueless, a classic, and prepared some snacks and blankets to make the viewing more cozy.

Felix seemed a little nervous and fidgety as you got comfy on the couch, some distance created between you. He played with his fingers and the blanket, picking on it as you clicked play on the tv.

"You okay?" you asked and he nodded quickly, grabbing the bowl of popcorn.

"It's just... I like to cuddle while watching movies. Or um, I like to cuddle whenever, a lot. Physical touch is definitely one of my biggest love languages. I hope you're okay with that." Felix confessed, redness covering his freckled cheeks.

You sighed in relief, a giggle escaping your lips as you scooted closer to him, making his breath hitch.

"Okay? I'm estatic. I'm a big cuddler, it's one of my top love languages too." you nodded and Felix smiled sweetly at you.

"Right. I keep forgetting we matched so well and start feeling nervous. I don't wanna do something wrong, you know? And with the cameras watching, it adds to the awkwardness." he explained.

"I'll tell you if I'm uncomfortable with anything, okay? And you tell me too. Open communication is important." you said and Felix nodded, agreeing. "And forget about the cameras for now. I'm trying not to think about them supervising us the entire time. Let's just enjoy the movie."

"You're really sweet, y/n." Felix smiled cutely, his eyes shining as he stared at you, tongue darting out to wet his plump lips.

You followed the movement for a second, your heart fluttering.

"Says you." you chuckled, poking his cheek and he giggled, relaxing next to you and scooting even closer so that your legs and shoulders touched.

Pretty soon, both of you were relaxed, forgetting that you were being filmed as you enjoyed the movie, laughing and repeating the iconic lines. Your head ended up on Felix's shoulder at one point and his heart started beating fast instantly, his hand reaching for yours. He caressed your skin with his thumb as you giggled at the tv. You've never felt this comfortable with someone you just met.

The entire day was filled with positive experiences that you almost forgot about the weird dread gathering in the pit of your stomach.

You felt a huge attraction towards Felix, your body craved to be in his warmth and when you laid in bed next to him that night, you wanted nothing more than to roll over and hold him. But maybe it was too early for that, you thought as nervousness washed over you.

"Good night, y/n." his warm voice was quiet in the darkness of the room.

"Good night, Felix."

~

The man in the chair leaned over his computer, typing in the log of the day. The two of you were perfect subjects for this village, both of you sweet and kind, ready to welcome each other into your lives. He looked at all the screens that filmed your quiet house, eyes lingering on your calm, sleeping forms. Soon, everything will change.

A whole week has passed by perfectly. It was a little too quiet, too perfect for your liking. You wondered when the actual tests would start, when you were gonna get an envelope with some objective you have to fulfill. It made you feel uneasy the entire time and you had always trusted your intuition so you knew your gut feeling was right.

You had expressed this to Felix and even though he was nervous about the whole experience too, he tried to reassure you that it can't be that bad. That maybe the test had already started by just watching the two of you interact with each other.

It sounded plausible so it calmed you down just a little bit.

At the same time, you couldn't deny the connection building between you and your match. Felix was everything you ever wanted and more, kind and thoughtful, funny and sweet, he listened to you with interest, happy to know every little detail about you; his heart was pure and full of love, not just for you but for everyone. He made you melt on the spot with just one look and smile.

Every time you cuddled while watching movies, you got a little closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you, messing with your senses. You loved being close to him like that and he loved being held or holding you, it didn't matter as long as you were embracing each other in any way.

"It's such a beautiful sunny day. We could have a date by the pool?" Felix suggested one morning, batting his eyelashes at you and pouting cutely.

"Oh, sure. But I'll be watching you as I sunbathe because well, you know." you shrugged.

"Are you scared of the water? I could help you, teach you how to swim. It's good to face your fears." he smiled encouragingly and you chuckled, grabbing his hand.

"Maybe it is. I'll think about it." you smiled.

"Great! That's progress." Felix leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek and it was enough to make your heart burst.

For some reason, you didn't think about how the two of you will be almost naked by the pool and that thought crossed your mind only after you put your bathing suit on in the bathroom. A little gasp escaped your lips as your cheeks became completely red.

You decided to throw a little dress over your frame before you walked into the room. Felix was already waiting for you, dressed in swim trunks and a t-shirt. You blushed at the sight of his legs, mentally scolding yourself and trying to calm down your heart.

Felix didn't hesitate to throw his shirt off as soon as you got to the pool. Your eyes immediately went to his abs and chest, a warmness spreading within you as you shifted. He noticed your look, his face and ears warming up. He smirked a little, enjoying the fact that he made you squirm.

"Ugh, I- I left my sunscreen upstairs." you whined.

"I'll go get it for you." Felix said. "Is it in the bathroom?"

You nodded and thanked him as he made his way into the house. After you took your dress off, your attention was grabbed by a sloshing sound of water inside the pool. Your brows furrowed, there was no wind. You gulped, coming closer to the edge of the pool, staring at your distorted reflection as the water kept sloshing.

It was just a milisecond, you couldn't react or realize what was happening, it was as if something invisible had pulled you into the water. With a loud splash your body was submerged under the surface as you started flailing your arms and legs, bubbles coming up where you were desperately trying to breathe. You managed to pull your head above water for a second, panicking as you tried to grab onto the edge of the pool, turning around just in time to see Felix running towards the pool with a terrified expression on his face. You couldn't keep yourself above water but just before you were completely submerged again, a pair of arms wrapped around you, pulling you up to the surface.

You gasped, trying to catch your breath as you clutched onto Felix and he pulled you close, pressing your body into his.

"You're okay, love. I got you. I got you." he kept repeating as he caressed you, holding you tightly as he led you to the shallow part of the pool.

Tears spilled out of your eyes as you sobbed, wrapping your arms around Felix's body, your face buried in his neck.

"It's okay. I'm here. Shh." he tried to soothe you as your body shook against him.

Neither of you noticed the shadow moving away from the window inside your kitchen.

"Let's get you out." Felix led you towards one of the chairs and you sat down as he wrapped a towel around you. He caressed your hair shortly as he grabbed another chair, pulling it closer so it was facing you. He sat down and grabbed your face gently.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I- I don't know." your lips trembled.

"I was just standing there and next thing I know, I'm underwater."

"Maybe you slipped?" Felix wondered, his brows furrowed.

"No, it was like something pulled me in." you swallowed and Felix looked back at the calm water.

"Well, whatever it was I am not leaving you alone by the pool anymore. I won't let this happen to you again." he promised, pulling you into a hug, your cheek pressed against his chest. You shivered as you held onto him, but this time it was because you felt his skin against yours. Sure, you held onto him in the pool but you were in such a state of panic that you didn't even feel your body let alone his.

You leaned back a little and looked up at Felix. His eyes travelled down to your lips and he licked at his. Your stomach swarmed with butterflies as your face neared his. Felix held you tighter as your hot breaths mingled, before he pressed his plump lips on yours. You melted instantly as you started moving together, kissing gently and savoring every second of your lips touching like that.

It felt like it was meant to be, like you were made to kiss his lips and he was made to be yours. Felix licked at your bottom lip and you parted them, letting his tongue touch and play with yours. Pressing your body against his even more, you almost forgot about Cupid Corp., the cameras, the pool. But when he bit on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth, his hands squeezing your waist, you had a moment of clarity and pulled away with a gasp.

"We can't get carried away." you panted and Felix nodded, swallowing as his dark eyes lingered on your lips. His cheeks were red, his hair messy and his lips looked even more pink after kissing you.

"Sorry. I couldn't help myself, love. I'm really attracted to you." Felix said, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Me too. I like you a lot, Lixie." you smiled and he chuckled sweetly, pressing a few kisses on your lips and cheeks.

"I like you a lot too. I'm so glad I signed up for this program." he said, pulling you into another hug.

"I'm glad to be here too." you tangled your hands in his hair, caressing him and he sighed happily.

"Do you still wanna stay by the pool or you wanna do something else?" he asked and you looked at the water.

"I'll sit here and you go swim." you smiled.

"Are you sure?"

"100%." you nodded and with that, he pecked your lips again and practically skipped towards the pool. You giggled to yourself, knowing he really wanted to swim so you were content with sitting by the pool and just watching his beautiful form in the water.

Goosebumps rose on your neck and you turned to look at the house, feeling like there was some kind of presence there. You tried shrugging it off as you turned back to Felix, watching him having fun and waving at you cutely.

When he got out of the water, you couldn't help the admiration in your eyes as they raked all over his naked wet body, the droplets of water sliding from his chest to his abs and disappearing under the waistband of his swim trunks. Your throat was very much dry in that moment, but your panties were not. Felix smirked at you as he walked slowly, probably trying to seduce you even though you already folded.

He leaned over you, his hands on the armrests of the chair, the water from his body dripping onto yours.

"Enjoyed the view?" he asked as you looked up at him.

"Very much so." you smirked back and he leaned in to kiss you.

"I'm glad you did." he kissed you again. "Let's get inside, it's getting dark." Felix added and the two of you made your way into your house.

As soon as you walked in, a loud beeping noise scared the both of you. You covered your ears as Felix looked around.

"What is that?!" you asked.

"I don't know." Felix yelled over the piercing noise. He followed it with you trailing behind him and holding onto his back.

"Oh. Look!" he exclaimed, grabbing the round device you had gotten in the mail.

As soon as he clicked the button, the loud sound stopped, the screen lighting up.

90%. Congratulations, Felix and Y/n!

"D-did we get a point because of me drowning in the pool?" you shivered.

"I think we got a point 'cause I saved you." Felix bit on his lip, his expression turning into one of worry. You looked up at the camera in the kitchen, your eyes wide. Just what kind of sick game were Cupid Corp. playing? And what did they have in store for you?

~

"You think they really tried to drown me on purpose?" you asked Felix when the two of you got under the covers.

"It seems so." he said as he chewed on his lip.

"I think they could escalate things." you gulped and Felix looked at you, scooting closer to your side.

"What kind of test is that? Who wouldn't jump in to save someone they love? And even someone they don't know. I'd jump in anyways." Felix got upset.

"I know, I don't understand either."

"At least we are closer to 100%." Felix said, reaching out for you. You got closer to him and he smiled sweetly, his arm wrapping around your waist.

"Will you let me hold you like this?" he whispered, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours.

"Yeah, of course." you whispered back, kissing his sweet lips.

"I'll keep you safe, love." he smiled.

"I hope they don't hurt you."

"They can try. I'm stronger than I seem."

"I belive that." you nuzzled into him as you wrapped around each other. It felt so good to be in his embrace, like nothing bad could ever happen to you.

When Felix opened his eyes the next morning and saw you sleeping so soundly in his arms, he almost melted into a puddle. He gently tucked your hair behind your ear, caressing your face as his sleepy eyes observed you.

It didn't take long for you to wake up too, seeing that Felix was already looking at you made you whine and shut your eyes tightly.

"Don't look at me." you said.

"Why?" Felix chuckled as you tried hiding your face with your hands.

"Because I don't look the best when I wake up."

"What are you talking about?" Felix gently moved your hands away. "You're beautiful." he added and leaned in to kiss you but you blocked him quickly with your hand.

"Morning breath."

"Do I look like I care?" he giggled against your palm, grabbing your hand in his and kissing you despite your protests.

"So beautiful." he rasped.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a sweet talker?" you smirked.

"No, but I'll take that as a compliment." Felix giggled. "Mm. Let's stay like this." he pulled you closer, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"I'd love to. But don't we have a brunch with Gina and Ethan?"

"Ugh. We do. Five more minutes." Felix said and you giggled, pressing your lips into his pulse. You heard his breath hitch and felt him tremble as your lips brushed against his skin.

"Don't make it harder for me to resist you, love." he whispered and kissed your head, making your cheeks warm up instantly.

"Sorry." you leaned back and he gave you a lazy smirk as he played with your hair.

~

"Ethan is sick." Gina whispered to the two of you after you rang the doorbell.

"Sick?" your brows furrowed as you noticed her eyes being shifty, darting left to right like she was on high alert, looking around to spot danger.

"Yes. High fever. Tremors. Headache." she craned her neck to look behind the two of you and you followed her eyesight, not noticing anything out of the ordinary.

"I have to go. I have to go. They're watching, you know? They're watching." she murmured before disappearing into the darkness of her house and closing the door, the clicking sound indicating she had locked it.

"T-that was weird." you swallowed.

"Very weird." Felix backed away, pulling you with him. "You wanna go to brunch still?"

"Yeah." you nodded as the two of you walked away from your neighbor's house.

You kept throwing glances back, noticing the curtain on one of the windows moving as a figure disappeared behind it.

You couldn't stop thinking about the state Gina was in and what the hell was happening inside her house?

Sitting by the koi pond, you couldn't help but think that all of you were just koi fishes and the village was just one small pond that was being observed by a bigger creature.

"You okay?" Felix put his arm around your shoulder, his other hand placed on your knee.

"Just worried about Gina and Ethan. And... us."

"Us?"

"What if the same happens to us. Or worse." you swallowed, your eyes becoming big as you looked at Felix, fear bubbling up inside you.

"It won't."

"How do you know that?" you asked, your eyes filling up with tears.

"I'll keep us safe, I promise." Felix pressed a lingering kiss on your forehead.

Your heart was still hammering in your chest, your stomach churning.

Something was wrong.

~

"Y/n, do you trust me?" Felix held you as the two of you stood in the shallow part of the pool.

"I do. It's just-"

"You're scared, I know. If it becomes too much, we'll get out immediately. But I'd love it if you at least tried. I'll hold you the entire time, okay? I won't let you out of my sight."

His reassuring words chipped away at your fear, replacing it with warmness and safety. You've never met someone like Felix, someone who was so invested in helping you get over your phobia.

"Okay, we'll start walking first." he pulled you in, holding you against him as you clutched at him.

"Relax." he tried soothing you as his hands caressed you and slowly but surely you started feeling relaxed.

"I'll hold you and swim. You try to move your legs like I told you, okay?" Felix guided you and you struggled a little at the beginning but the more he smiled at you and reassured you, the more confident you felt.

"Just stay close." you said.

"Of course, sweetheart." he smiled and your heart leaped out of your chest as your face warmed up.

Soon, you didn't even realize you were moving on your own, with Felix hovering next to you.

"You did it, y/n!" he laughed, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into his body.

"All thanks to you, Lixie." you giggled, turning around in his arms so you could look at him.

"Well, you had the will to try so it's on you too." he said, pecking your lips. His kisses were addictive, whenever he'd press his lips on yours, it was hard to stop as the two of you clung onto each other like you've been glued together.

The kisses escalated as your tongues massaged each other, your hands roaming on his freckled back. Your legs wrapped around him and he pulled you in closer, chest against chest, his hands on your butt.

"F-Felix." you stuttered, nails digging into his shoulders when you felt his erection brushing against your core.

"I'm sorry." his arms wrapped around your waist as he buried his face in your neck, lapping at the droplets of water dripping down your skin. "I can't help it. You're so delicious, sweetheart." he nipped at your sensitive neck.

"T-the cameras." you looked around at the five different cameras in the backyard.

"I know. I know." Felix kissed your lips with a huff before he swam you both back to the shallow part.

"You can get out if you want. And give me a second to calm down." he looked at you sheepishly.

"Okay." you giggled, wrapping your body up with a towel.

Felix swam a little more while you made some lemonade, keeping an eye on him from the kitchen window.

He got out just in time as you brought the refreshing drink outside. He wiped his body with the towel quickly, throwing it aside as he pulled you closer, making you squeal, the two of you losing balance. You ended up in his lap as he sat in the chair and you chuckled as he squeezed you tightly, rubbing his cheek against your back.

"Are you sure this is a smart position right now?" you asked and he smirked at you.

Before he could answer, the familiar beeping sound blasted next to the two of you. Your heads snapped towards the device you brought everywhere, hoping the percentage would go up.

"Felix! 92%!" you gasped when you grabbed it.

"92? How did we get two points?" he stared at it.

"I have no idea! But we should celebrate. Just 8 more. And then we can leave together." you smiled as you turned you body towards him.

"I can't wait, my love." Felix smiled, leaving kisses on your arm.

You wondered why you got two points. And if it was really that easy.

~

That night, Felix was clingier than usual, completely wrapped around you as he spooned you. His lips kept pressing gentle kisses on your neck and shoulder, making goosebumps rise on your skin, heat erupting inside you.

Felix couldn't help it anymore, his own body betrayed him as he got excited again, being so close to you, feeling you pressed against him, he craved nothing more than to be even closer to you.

"L-Lix." you felt him against your backside.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. Don't worry about it, it'll go away." Felix whimpered quietly, and you squeezed his wrist as he pressed into you tighter, unable to contain himself.

"It's okay." you guided his hand down to your panties, feeling desperate for his touch too.

"Y/n." he whispered. "What about the camera?"

"It's dark. And they can't see under the covers. As long as we stay quiet and don't move too much, we should be fine." you whispered back, pushing his hand beneath the waistband of your underwear.

"That's a test within itself." Felix joked and you giggled.

"Please, Felix." you begged as he hesitated.

"Fuck, baby. You don't have to beg for me. You have me always." he bit on your shoulder, his fingers exploring until they pressed into your clit when you spread your legs just a little so he can have more access. Felix started drawing slow figure eights on your sensitive clit, dipping his fingertips into your heat to gather some wetness and smear it around.

Your breath hitched and you gripped onto the cover, bringing it closer to your lips so you could muffle the little sighs coming out. His tongue darted out to lick at you neck as he played with your clit, moving slower but pressing hard. Felix sunk his teeth into your neck, sucking on it and creating a purple bruise marking you as his. You moaned quietly and he shushed you, teasing your little clit and making you clench around nothing.

"Felix." you said quietly.

"Yes, baby?" he whispered between kisses.

"I wanna touch you too." you said, so quiet so that only he could hear it. Felix's cock twitched against the back of your thigh.

"Okay." he said and you turned around, sliding your panties off and pushing them aside. Felix did the same with his underwear and grabbed your leg, putting it over his so he could spread you a little.

His hand was back between your legs, now without any tight obstacles and you had to bite back a moan as your eyes flitted towards the red dot blinking in the corner. You gripped the cover and pulled it up, only leaving some space for air and so you and Felix can kind of see each other.

You sneaked your hand down his chest and abs, fingers playing with his happy trail leading down to his leaky cock. The tip was already wet with pre cum and Felix almost groaned when you touched him, smearing it around as your fingers massaged him.

"B-baby." the tip of his nose touched yours and he leaned in to kiss you as your hand wrapped around his length. He sighed into your mouth and you swallowed it, breathing in his air while he slowly pushed his finger inside your welcoming heat.

You bit on his lower lip when he pushed in deep, your pussy clenching and begging for more. Felix groaned quietly, pushing into your hand while you moved it slowly, giving him gentle pleasure. Both of you moved in sync with each other, keeping the slow and torturous pace that was somehow sweet. You were both lingering on edge, wanting more.

Felix pulled his finger out and before you could protest, he started pushing two fingers in. The entire time you were making out, swallowing each other's moans and breaths.

"God, faster please." Felix whispered and you looked at the direction of the camera again, excitement rushing through you at the thought of getting caught. You sped up, pumping his cock as he fucked your pussy harder.

"Shh, quiet down love." he said when you started moaning silently.

"Sorry." you whispered and leaned in to kiss his neck. Felix immediately threw his head back, a quiet grunt escaping his lips as you attacked his skin with bites and kisses, flicking your wrist.

"I- I- can't." Felix groaned quietly. "Y/n." his fingers stilled inside you as he came, spilling his hot cum on your thigh, hand and the sheets. You helped him ride his high, kissing his lips and whispering quiet praises against them.

"Bring your legs up." he said, pressing your legs together, sliding his arm under your knees and lifting them towards him.

"Wh-what..."

"Shh. Trust me, sweetheart." he said as he leaned over you a little, his fingers sliding on your wet slit. He slowly pushed them back in, the position of your legs lifted up and pressed together like you were in a fetal position added to the pressure between your legs, his fingertips pressing right into your sweet spot.

"F-Felix!" you whimpered and he pressed his free hand against your lips, shushing you as he started fucking his fingers in and out of you.

You feared that this was definitely visible on the camera, the movement of his hand was too frantic under the sheets. Your muffled whines made Felix lean in and leave sweet kisses on your face.

"Shh, it's okay, just relax and let go, sweetheart." he cooed at you, his tongue licking at your ear.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he removed his hand from your face and pressed his lips on yours, his fingers ramming into your sweet spot repeatedly.

"Lix." you whined against his lips as he licked at them.

"Cum for me love." he encouraged and your pussy clenched around his fingers, your heart beating out of your chest as you let go, spilling your release on his fingers, some of it ending up on the mattress below you.

"Shit." he cursed quietly, caressing your wet pussy.

You clutched onto him, kissing him again like you needed it to breathe.

"You okay?" he asked, his hand searching around for his boxers.

"Y-yeah." you answered. "You?"

"More than okay." he smiled as he grabbed the boxers and cleaned both of you up as much as he could. "Um. We can't really change the sheets now, it would look suspicious." he added, throwing both of your underwear sneakily on the floor next to his side, where the camera wouldn't see.

"We can sleep on your side?"

Felix smiled and pulled you over, making you giggle quietly as the two of you settled against each other. He buried his face in your neck, his hand gently caressing your figure as you played with his hair, running your fingers through his soft locks.

The man in the chair smirked. Bingo.

When your eyes fluttered open the next morning, you were greeted with the cutest sight. Felix was still sleeping, his face smushed against the pillow as he drooled a little. Overwhelmed with your growing feelings for him, you leaned in and bit at his cheek.

Felix groaned quietly and you giggled, kissing where you had bitten him before you went lower, biting his neck and then his shoulder.

"Y/n." his deep voice made you shiver and you giggled against his soft skin again before sinking your teeth into his arm. His eyes fluttered open as he smacked his lips and looked at you.

"Interesting way to wake me up, not gonna lie." he smirked a little before grabbing you and making you squeal as he suddenly flipped the two of you, him being on top.

"Felix!" you chuckled when his fingers ghosted on your sides, tickling you slightly.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he smirked, burying his face in your neck and teasing you with little licks and kisses.

"D-don't. It's daytime, the camera-"

"I'm just gonna bite you a little. Return the favor." he blew on your neck before biting into your skin and sucking. You had to bite on your lip to stop yourself from moaning. Isn't this prohibited too?

"F-Felix, you have to stop." you whined.

"You're lucky the cameras are here. Otherwise, nothing would be able to save you from me." he wiggled his eyebrows and you chuckled, playfully pushing him away.

The morning started beautifully and you completely forgot about the rules whenever Felix smiled at you. You were both walking on cloud 9 and you couldn't wait to get out of this place so you can go anywhere with him by your side.

"Do you think they saw us last night?" Felix asked while the two of you munched on your food.

"I hope not." you said, your cheeks becoming red as you looked away from him.

"Getting shy on me, sweetheart?" Felix smirked, fingers brushing against your cheek.

"A little." you confessed, biting on your lip as your heart sped up.

"Don't be." he smiled wide as he leaned in, pecking your face with kisses. You started chuckling before you grabbed his face and kissed his lips.

"There. Better?" you asked and he nodded.

"Much better." Felix said and stood up to put his plate away. You took another sip of your coffee before a loud crash made you jump.

You turned around instantly to see the plate broken into pieces and Felix grabbing at his stomach.

"F-Felix?" you stood up abruptly, your chair flying on the floor.

Felix struggled to open his mouth and speak, he struggled to breathe as he clutched at both his stomach and chest.

"Oh my god! Felix!" you cried, grabbing at him as his face got red and his eyes watered.

"W-what is happening?!" you panicked, not having any kind of phone or knowing what to do in that moment. You turned to the camera in the corner.

"Help us, you fucking assholes!" you yelled at the camera as Felix shook and heaved in your arms.

A moment passed and his breathing started getting more normal, his face becoming paler in contrast to the redness that appeared before. His eyes were glassy, hands shaking as he slumped against you, falling to his knees. You quickly wrapped your arms around him as he gripped at you, seeking comfort from you. Heat radiated from his body and you touched his forehead, realizing he was burning up with a fever.

"Oh, Felix. Can you hear me?" you held his face in your hands as he looked through you.

His lips opened and closed a few times and he blinked before focusing on your eyes.

"I-it hurts." he rasped, his fingers desperately digging into your arms.

"What hurts, baby?" your body filled up with fear and anger. They did this.

"Everything." Felix sniffled and you helped him get up as he leaned on you.

"Let's get you to the couch." you led him to the living room before making him sit down. He looked horrible, a 180 from just a few moments ago when everything was normal. He was sweating profusely, his skin pale, his breathing heavy.

The doorbell suddenly rang, making you jolt.

"I'll be right back." you said, covering Felix up with a blanket as he was shivering even though he was burning up.

You had no idea who to expect at the door, maybe a paramedic, maybe a savior, maybe an explanation.

But you didn't expect Gina.

"G-Gina?" you eyes widened.

"Here." she shoved a box in your arms.

"W-what is this?" you asked.

"Medicine. They said... I had to deliver it to you. He'll be okay like Ethan. Just be careful. Be careful. They watch, you know? They know everything. They know." she looked a little panicked before she turned around, murmuring to herself and repeating how they watch and they know.

You opened up the box and sure enough there were different vitamins, medicine and bags of tea inside it.

You turned to look at the camera with a scowl on your face before you rushed off to Felix.

"Y/n." Felix whimpered, his bottom lip trembling as he looked up at you with teary eyes.

"It's okay, baby. You'll be okay." you tried to calm him down even though you were panicking too. You quickly fluffed up the pillows and helped him lie down.

"Are you comfy?" you asked.

"C-cold." he shivered, clutching onto the blanket.

"I'll bring another blanket for you." you said.

"Don't leave me!" Felix looked panicked as he gripped at your wrist.

"I won't, I'll be right back, I promise." you leaned down to kiss his burning forehead. He made a little noise but still let you go, albeit reluctantly. After finding another blanket, you tucked him in, taking it upon you to make him some tea, give him medicine and try to get his fever down however you could. You say next to his legs and placed a wet cloth on his forehead making him whine as he threw his arm around your thighs.

It was weird. The way he suddenly developed a high fever was unnatural. He wasn't sneezing or coughing, just shaking and sweating. You racked your brain, spinning different scenarios in your head and ways of how they could make him sick.

Then it clicked. The food.

But, how did you not get sick, just Felix? You couldn't understand how it was possible for these faceless and nameless individuals to play god with your health and safety. And what the hell did that have to do with you being a good match?

You wondered if the two of you could leave before you get to 100. You've never heard of such cases but surely there was a way? Maybe you could run away? Who could stop you, right? You have free will and you can leave whenever you want, you're not a prisoner.

"Y/n." Felix said weakly, his eyes fluttering open.

"Lixie. How do you feel? Any better?" you asked and he nodded.

"A bit." he said.

"I'll make you some soup." you said, knowing you have no other choice than to trust that not all your groceries were laced with some kind of virus.

"Okay." he said and you caressed his face shortly before standing up.

"Call me if you need anything. I won't be long." you said and he nodded again.

As the soup boiled, so did your anger. First they try to drown you then they make Felix sick? What's next on the menu? You looked up at the camera for the nth time.

"Hurt him again and I'll find you." you said quietly but the man behind the screen heard you, typing away on his laptop. He felt a bit bad for you but there was nothing he could do, he was just tasked to watch and report the progress.

"Can you sit up?" you asked Felix after you brought the warm soup to the living room.

"Ugh. Help me." Felix whimpered and you wrapped your arms around him as he held onto you, pulling him into a sitting position.

"I feel weakness in my arms and legs." he muttered.

"You'll be back on your feet in no time." you tried to soothe him as you sat next to him. "If they don't lace more of our food with a virus."

"How are you so sure?" Felix gulped.

"Because I'm taking care of you. And if they try something again I will burn this fucking village down." you made sure the camera picked up what you said and Felix let out a pained chuckle, grabbing at his side.

"Feeling protective over me?" he asked and your cheeks reddened instantly.

"I- I mean... Yes." you nodded and he smiled.

"If I wasn't in so much pain, I'd be really turned on right now." he said and you giggled, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Shut up and eat your soup."

"Feed me?" he pouted.

"Sure." you chuckled, shaking your head a little as he acted cute. Well cuter than usually.

"Will you cuddle me?" he asked after you managed to feed him the soup without making too much of a mess and you nodded, scooting closer to him and covering yourself up with the blanket too.

"Come here." you whispered and Felix leaned in, pressing his forehead into your neck. He was still warm but less than before and you hoped that the worst had passed.

"I don't think it was the food." he whispered suddenly, making goosebumps rise on your skin. The tv was loud enough to not let the camera hear what you were whispering about and after glancing at it you glanced down at Felix's sleepy face pressed against your chest.

"What do you mean?" you whispered into his hair.

"Look at my arm. Very carefully." he whispered back and you pretended to caress him until you uncovered his sleeve, acting nonchalant for the camera. Your brows furrowed as you stared.

"Is that a needle mark?" you asked.

"I think so." he looked up at you and you covered him up and held him tighter against you.

"You think they snuck in while we were sleeping and put some kind of virus into your body?" you asked and he nodded against you.

"That's sick. That's really sick. I- I think we should leave."

"We can't, not until we get to a 100." Felix said, rubbing his cheek against you and squeezing you tighter.

"B-but what if they do something worse?"

"It'll be okay." he muttered as he drifted off.

You sighed, running your hand through his hair soothingly as you stared at the tv absentmindedly, a random movie from the dvd collection playing on it.

You looked at him occasionally, admiring his cute sleeping face. Did you really have to wait until 100 to start your life with Felix?

Over the course of the next two days, you had been by Felix's side the entire time. The medicine worked perfectly and pretty soon Felix was back to his old self, healthy and full of energy.

"Y/n. Love." he held you tightly. "Thank you for taking care of me." he stared at you with sparkly eyes before he kissed you like his life depended on it, stealing your breath away.

"Of course." you smiled as you parted.

The loud sound of the device startled you both. Felix neared it, picking it up and looking at the screen.

"95." he scoffed.

"For what? Almost killing you." you said. "This is some sick game to you, isn't it?" you turned to the camera then, furious.

"Sweetheart, don't. We're almost done." Felix pulled you into him. "I have a plan." he whispered into your hair and you nodded.

You were going to escape the village.

~

That night, you got ready for bed as usual, your hands reaching to open the covers so you could get in. Before you could even touch the blanket, you were grabbed as Felix wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up, almost making you scream.

"Come with me." he pulled you into his bathroom.

"Felix we can't-"

"We're leaving anyways." he said, closing the door before pinning you against it. His hands held your wrists gently but firmly as he pressed his body against yours, nudging your legs apart with his knee.

"Felix." you let out a little gasp when his thigh pressed against your warmth.

He couldn't wait anymore, one hand still pinning your wrists and the other gently holding your chin as he crashed his lips into yours. Both of you whimpered quietly into each other's mouth as your tongues collided. Your mind became fuzzy instantly and Felix was becoming impatient, his hand wrapping around your neck and squeezing ever so slightly as his other hand slid down towards your chest.

"It's hard to keep my cool around you. I just want you so much." Felix talked lowly, both of his hands grabbing your breasts and massaging them. You whimpered, grinding against his thigh on instict.

"I want you too, Lixie. I can't wait anymore."

"Yeah? You want me to take you right here, against the door?" he smirked and you gasped as he leaned back with a smirk, pushing your panties aside and touching your clit.

"Y-yes." you whispered and he chuckled, hands on your waist as he swiftly turned you around to face the door. Your palms slapped against it and you dug your nails in as he slid fingers over your wet pussy.

"I think she's ready to take me." he leaned over you, lips brushing your ear as he pulled his boxers down. You swallowed when you felt the tip of his cock pressing against you. Warmness washed over you and you clenched in anticipation.

"Tell me if it's okay. Or do you want me to prep you?" he asked, his hand sliding down your back.

"J-just fuck me, Felix." you begged and he chuckled darkly.

"My baby has a dirty mouth, hm?" he slid his tip between your folds, back and forth, slowly, teasing you and torturing you.

"Please." you whimpered again and his own desperation got the best of him, he couldn't tease you and himself anymore so he slowly pushed in.

You moaned while he filled you up, your eyes fluttering shut as your knees buckled.

"Fuck. So tight." he groaned, bottoming out.

"L-Lix." you whimpered and he gripped your hips, moving slowly at first, letting you adjust.

You pushed back into him, meeting his thrusts as you let out moans of pleasure, your voice getting more high pitched every time his tip pressed into your sweet spot.

"You take me so well, baby. You really were made just for me." Felix moaned, fucking harder into you, his hips smacking against you.

You were a mess, not even able to answer as he got you drunk on his cock instantly.

"Fuck." Felix groaned as he looked at your ass, his hand coming down on your flesh, spanking you and making you whine out loud.

"You like that, sweetheart?" he smirked behind you and spanked you again.

"Y-yes!" you moaned and he sped up, his hips unforgiving as he shook your body, his hands gropping and slapping. He felt you clenching around him, his arms wrapping around you, hands on your breasts as he pulled on your nipples and played with them.

"Are you gonna cum for me, baby? Make a mess on my cock?" Felix fucked into you harder.

"Yes, ah!" you whimpered, your legs shaking as you spasmed and came all over his length.

"Good girl. You make me so proud." he groaned, chasing his high.

"Y-you have to pull out, I didn't take the pill... Since I got here." you moaned, feeling overstimulated.

"S-shit!" Felix whimpered, pulling out of your pussy and giving himself a few tugs, exploding behind you, his cum landing on your ass and back.

"So pretty." he gripped at your ass. "Mine."

"Yours." you whined back when he spanked you again.

He let out a low chuckle and wrapped his arms around you, turning you so you were facing him.

"That was absolutely not how I imagined our first time." Felix said, pecking your lips.

"How did you imagine it?" you held onto him with a smile on your face.

"Dinner, flowers, you know the whole thing. You put on some pretty lingerie for me and then we make love the entire night." he pressed his forehead against yours.

"Aren't you romantic?" you giggled, kissing him gently.

"I am. A lot." he grinned, pulling you into a hug.

"We can do all that when we get out of here. Which is what we should be doing right now."

"Yeah. You got your bag ready?" he asked and you nodded.

"Let's clean up then."

~

The streets were dark and empty, the only light that was coming from the lamp posts was dim and barely illuminated your path. It must've been around 3am. Dead silence filled up the space, every house was dark and quiet. No one was awake. The two of you stalked towards the gate, knowing the cameras are watching you.

There was no blind spots, they thought of everything. You didn't give a damn anymore. They can come and stop you themselves instead of playing these sick games.

Of course, the gate was locked.

"Felix?" you swallowed and his head snapped towards you. "That wasn't there when we got here, right?" you pointed and he gasped.

Electric fence.

Everywhere you turned to look, there it was.

"What the hell?" Felix frowned. "Are they crazy?"

"Obviously they are." you stated. "What should we do now?"

"How about the forest? Could be connected to like a main road? There's no way they put this electric fence all around." Felix looked frustrated.

"We could try." you nodded, your hand reaching out for his. With fingers entwined you hurried the other way.

Suddenly, a loud alarm pierced through the calm night air, making you both scream out as you grabbed at your ears, the sound pounding inside your head, making you want to pull your hair out.

Your vision became blurry and you tried to stay close to Felix as the sound became even louder and in the corner of your eye, you saw shadows moving.

Everything went black.

~

You woke up in your room, drenched in sweat. It was still dark out and you looked around, noticing Felix was still sleeping and the device on his night stand was blinking.

"Lix." you shook him gently.

"Hm."

"Lix." you repeated, leaning over him to look at the little screen.

"98?" you frowned. "Why?"

"What?" Felix sat up slowly. "What is it?"

"We're up to 98. Because we tried to escape?"

"I- I don't know. Ugh, I feel weird." Felix said and as soon as those words left his lips, you felt lightheaded yourself.

"I can't feel my legs." he gasped.

"What's happening to us? What did they do?" your eyes watered as you felt the same paralyzing feeling.

"T-they drugged us." Felix tried to grab at you but his arms weren't listening to him no matter how much he willed them to move.

"Felix." you whimpered, feeling some kind of tiredness washing over you. "I love you."

"I love you." he whispered back before everything went black again, neither of you noticing the device was now blinking with 99.

The light was barely coming in through the branches, the sun not being completely up yet. The air was damp and smelled of the earth, rain and trees. You took in a deep breath, wiggling your fingers against the ground, feeling the texture of moss under your fingertips.

You felt as if you were floating even though you were very clearly touching the ground. Your eyes slowly fluttered open and you gasped. Everything seemed distorted, like you couldn't focus your eyes on what's in front of you. Weird sounds filled up your ears, ones you couldn't recognize or understand. One moment they seemed like distant shouts and the other it was as if someone was talking gibberish right into your ear.

You lifted your shaky hands towards your face as you felt hot tears sliding down your cheek and into your hair splayed on the earth. Your hands. You were looking at them but it was as if they were separated from your body, like you weren't in control of them. You stared for however long, not being able to conceptualize if it was 10 seconds or an hour.

When you finally sat up, your head started spinning and you saw shadows moving in the corner of your eye, hiding behind the trees and melting into the ground. You blinked a couple of times but your sight remained blurry even when you got up. Your legs buckled for a second and you almost fell, grabbing at a tree next to you.

Find him. Find him.

Something whispered and you felt a buzzing sensation spreading all over your body. You grabbed at your ears as the whispers kept getting louder until-

FIND HIM!

A yell, a dark screeching voice echoed inside your brain.

Felix. You have to find him.

You had no idea how you even ended up in the forest and what was wrong with you while you were walking, your limbs felt like they were disconnected, your head pounded with a headache and your forehead was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

You heard a smacking sound on your right, like something hit the wet ground and you turned to look but couldn't see anything there.

"Felix?!" your voice came out weak, your throat burning. "Felix!" you whimpered, more tears spilling out your eyes.

The whispers and the smacking sounds became louder, closer, more of them surrounding you. You started freaking out, panic building up within you. The sound of cracking caught your attention and you screamed out when the trees started growing in towards you, their branches becoming longer and reaching out to grab you. You kept screaming as you squatted down, covering your head up and crying.

"Please, stop!" you cried. It was silent. You lifted your head up slowly and the trees were exactly how they were before. No menacing branches hovering over you, reaching to take you.

You quickly stood up, your sight a little less blurry as adrenaline from the fear kicked in. Your legs reacted faster than you could anticipate as you started running, small twigs snapping under the weight of your feet.

The smacking sounds were back and now you could see what they were. All around you, koi fishes wiggled and smacked against the floor, trying to breathe in the dry air. You gasped, wondering how the hell was this happening.

You must be tripping.

The rational part of your mind reminded you that whoever was behind Cupid Corp. didn't hesitate to use all sorts of methods to execute their 'tests'.

They probably drugged you and everything you were seeing right now was a hallucination.

With that realization in mind, you carried on through the forest as it got thicker, ignoring all the voices around you and the fishes seemingly falling from the sky.

Things lurked in the bushes and behind trees, shivers running up your spine as it got darker. You thought you heard Felix calling for you among all those distorted voices.

"Felix?!"

"Y/n!" you heard a distant sound.

"Felix? Where are you?" you hurried up, almost slipping on the moss.

"I'm here!" the voice was clearer now, to your left and you ran and ran until you were stopped in your tracks. A huge koi wish wriggled on the ground where Felix should've been.

"Felix?" you were perplexed as you stared at the sight before you.

"Get me out of here."

Is he... inside the fish?

You noticed a knife on the floor next to it. You blinked and the next thing you knew you were standing in front of the fish with the knife in your hand. You stabbed into the flesh, blood oozing out as you started cutting up the fish like a maniac, guts spilling from the inside until Felix emerged, covered up in all of the fish goo, the stench of it making you nauseous.

"What the fuck?" you swallowed and then everything disappeared, pulling you into the darkness again.

~

The loud piercing sound of the device you prayed to every single day shook your entire body. You jolted up, realizing you were in bed and Felix was waking up next to you.

No fishes, no guts, no forest, no whispers.

100%! Congratulations and have a safe departure from our Village of Love!

"Village of love? More like village of horror." you said as Felix leaned in to look at the screen. A loud sound scared you again, a masked voice following after it.

"Thank you for participating in our program. You've proved your love to each other, built up devotion and trust in just a month. You are now the perfect match. We apologize for any discomfort you felt here and offer you The Juice of Oblivion so you may forget about the... less fun experiences you had here. You can choose not to drink the juice, but remember after you leave through the gate, you're obligated by law to not talk about our tests here. Enjoy the rest of your life together!"

You glanced at the night stand, seeing the suspicious blue liquid inside a bottle.

Felix suddenly started laughing next to you and you looked at him. Laughter bubbled up from your throat too and the two of you cackled for a good minute, until you were heaving for breath and wiping tears away.

"This was fucking insane." he said.

"Were you really stuck inside a fish?" you asked and Felix looked at you like you were insane.

"Was I what?"

"I had to gut a koi fish to get you out, in the forest." you explained and he shook his head.

"You were tripping. We both were, I figured that the moment I stepped foot on the pool. Like on the water. And you were under it, trying to get out but it was as if there was some kind of barrier keeping me from you. I had to find a spot to pull you out. The amount of anguish it gave me..." Felix licked at his dry lips and you reached out to grab his hand.

"Do you wanna drink the juice?" you asked.

"I just wanna get the hell out of here." he said and you agreed.

You were pretty sure this was illegal, all of the stuff happening here; them not disclosing the use of psychedelic stimulants or whatever the drugs were in the contract was also illegal.

But at the same time, if you never participated, maybe you would've never met Felix.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked as you approached the gate with a few other couples, including Gina and Ethan.

"How I'm glad I met you. But I'm gonna need therapy." you said and Felix laughed.

"We'll go together. This is just the first day of the rest of our life." he smiled, kissing your forehead and squeezing your hand.

The man in the chair watched all the couples leave. His lips turned upwards into a smirk as he saw new cars approaching the village.

He wondered what kind of sick tests they had in store for the new inhabitants of the Village of Love?

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[sbcdh]

Dad wasn’t a nice guy. I don’t think I need to tell you that. But don’t believe the media. I don’t think he was evil. People give him a bad rap, or, they gave him a bad rap for the wrong reasons.  They didn’t know the man like I did. 

Tell me more about that.

He loved Emmett more. Told me himself, straight as whiskey. Emmett was tall, went to Harvard business school. Helped dad out in the oil fields. Well, helped in the oil fields at first anyway. He was clever. Had a melon like a jackknife and a nose like a bloodhound for finding tar sands. I never really knew how he did it. And well, look at me. I definitely took more after dad. Short fat and bad tempered. Ha! I really took after dad. I went to Harvard too, of course. But I went for geology. Fuckin’ geology. Yeah I knew dad better than any other man on earth.

Why do you say that?

Theres a way of knowing that only happens when you need someone to notice you. You need that like the air you breathe. You know everything about them. Learn the things they like, when their moods swing round, what they want and fear and dream about. Emmett didn’t have to care about stuff like that. Emmett was a golden boy. 

He was quite skilled at finding oil wells.

You know he damn well was. Never did figure out how he did that. You know doc, now that you got me on the couch, you got me wonderin’. You reckon it was somethin’ hypno-economical? It always did seem like he could sniff out tar sands from over the damn horizon.

It is possible. I would like to talk more about you, and your relationship with your father. 

Bet you do. Emmett was the key to everything. Dad made a lot of money early on. Said he was real good at cards. Said he made money cheating loggers at table games up in Canada. Who the hell knows? Point is by the time I was born he was already speculating in land. WWI was a great time for that shit…You know… You know that reminds me. You know what my earliest memory of dad was? It was him, covered in fuckin crude from a new well. Painted head to toe like…like a doll. One of those old ones you only see in antique shops these days. He was smilin wide with big bright teeth and big bright eyes. He was shoutin to Gert about something and they were both real excited. 

That would be Gertrude Jager, your m-

Emmett’s mom. 

Yes, of course. Apologies. Please continue. 

We were outside. It was early in the morning and I could feel the sun on my back. I had this blanket Gert made me and I was holdin’ it in my little fist. Just like this. Hey doc what are you writin’ there?

Notes on our conversation. Was there any sign of his…

Ascension to the throne of the god-pharaoh? Ha. I was wondering when you’d bring that up. You know, I think it was Emmett.

Emmett?

Yeah. Well, it wasn’t nothin’ Emmett did per se. He just. Well, its a big family, lotta big personalities you know? Dad wasn’t the best about keepin a lid on his temper, but Emmett. He was a bit funny. He’d work for hours on end. I seen him spend eight whole hours out in the fields, writing in some little notebook, come home to the house, and then spend eight more hours writing at the dinner table while the help brought him hotdogs. It was the same thing every time. Hot dogs, shredded cabbage, and beer. He’d eat nothin’ but that for days on end. Then he’d get all quiet. Lock himself in his room, drink himself to sleep. 

You weren’t concerned? 

I was 15. And the family’s got a lotta big personalities. 

What changed?

It was the Wolf Basin lode. You gotta think about that for a second. One million barrels of oil, right when uncle sam is at his thirstiest. Daddy had always hobnobbed with politicians, but they were practically lining up outside the door. They were buyin’ him dinner, and he would up and tell em to take a hike! Imagine that! He would come home late at night, I never seen him happier. He tell me about all the things he said to those men. Made him happier than a pig in shit. 

The success is what changed him? 

Maybe. It weren’t just the money. It was the power. The letters he got. Official United States letterhead. Comin’ in from the governor and senators and once or twice even president Truman. Sometimes I’d see him at his desk just starin at em, not opened or nothin’. He just looked at em. That’s when he started readin’ about Egypt and whatnot. Told me he wanted to know about the old kings. Wanted to rule his domain properly. Read all sorts of things about the middle kingdom and Ptolemy and Ramses II. He’d ramble for hours if you let him. Then one day, he comes back from the Rio Grande in a homemade Nemes. 

Nemes? 

Thats the crown of the Pharaohs. He told us that. I think he made his outta old flour sacks. Said he was chosen by Aten to build a new kingdom-o-the-dead right here in Plano. 

That seems quite sudden. 

It was. It was sudden. Well- Well it was kinda sudden. I think it had somethin’ to do with Emmett. This was around when his funny moods were gettin’ bad. Real bad. He was workin’ himself to string. He weren’t eatin’ or sleepin’. Dad had politicians comin over every damn day to look at the oil fields and Emmett was like a ghost. He couldn’t work! I think dad was scared, because he knew Emmett was the key and none of it would work without him. He started wearin the Nemes more. Wore it round the house with a collar and a robe and whatnot. Started carryin’ a scepter. All that. The politicians and the media thought it was a hoot. They thought he was just bein funny. Or like it was some freemason thing. He could get a laugh back then. They just thought he was bein’ funny. 

You don’t seem to share the sentiment.

No ma’am. He’d go into these rages. They were kinda like Emmett’s but, I dunno. Different, but the same. Ranting and raving about the english language “defiling” sacred hieroglyphics, navigatin du’at, securin himself a place in the field of reeds. He even made the help carry around palm fronds to fan him with. Even bought that purple Rolls Royce so he could travel around like Cleopatra did. Said it was the color of empire. It was around then. Yeah. He wanted to tear down the western guest house, and rebuild it on the north side of the property, so he could build a temple to Aten on the western side of the property. He and Emmett got into one hell of a fight. They’d gone at it before but not like that. It did somethin’ to Emmett. He locked himself in his room, wouldn’t eat or sleep. Sure as hell couldn’t work. A month turned into two, then six. There’d be a day when it seemed like Emmett was his normal self then, well then he’d fall right back down into his mood. Then, well. 

What happened?

Some doctor said we oughta try lobotomy. You know, to fix Emmetts moods. Get him back to work. Dad jumped at it. With Emmett out of the fields he wasn’t making money half as fast as he used to. Practically dragged him to the doctors himself. Couldn’t get the pick behind his eyes fast enough the bastard. It broke him doc. Broke him ways I didn’t know a man could break. He- 

Take your time.

He wouldn’t touch the table when he ate. Thought it would shock him like the doctors shocked him. He would break down crying and screaming if you asked him any sort of question. Ask him what he wanted for dinner and he wouldn’t know, and that would scare him, and it would scare him so bad he would tear out his own hair. Sometimes he’d just go quiet. Sometimes he’d just wander around the house. Then there were the nurses. 

Nurses?

Yes Ma’am. See, dad got Emmett right back to work. But Emmett uh. Lord. He couldn’t focus. You couldn’t leave him alone for two minutes without him abusin’ himself in front of everyone. Hands down his pants, primin’ the pumps. So dad hired a bunch of fancy whores to follow him around dressed as nurses. If we had good company over, and Emmett started to get the itch, they’d just pull him into the next room like he was havin’ some kinda medical episode. 

I- really?

Hand to God doc. Tell ya the truth its nice to tell someone about it. This psychotherapy shit is pretty nice. God. I remember one day. Drivin out to the basin in dads big stupid purple Rolls. He brought me along just to take notes. I was shotgun with all the papers, dad in the drivers seat in his Nemes, Emmett in the back seat playin’ hell with the whores. We got out, miles and miles from any other living souls. I remember gettin’ to check one of the dericks. Big ol mean dinosaur lookin’ thing, high heat middle of summer. It was dad and I glarin’ up at it. I was trying to actually check the damn pumps, dad was sermonating loud n’ proud about the rays of Aten while one of the whores was tryin’ to suck off Emmett. And its like I didn’t even care. I didn’t care one bit doc. I was just tryin’ to check the sediment. 

I- Well, you’ve done very well for yourself despite everything. 

Nah. Dad was fallin’ apart. I was just there to pick up the pieces. He couldn’t handle what happened to Emmett. Its like someone cut off dad’s own legs. It unhitched him from the world. 

How so?

Well, he got convinced the Jews did it. Somehow, he got it into his head that the Jews were poisoning all the food in texas, and that uh -Jew poison- was makin’ Emmett like that. It was dad’s thought that the lobotomy woulda worked if it weren’t for the international bolsheviks. He would only ever eat food he grew on the family farm. Even turned a bit of the chemistry division of the business into that vitamin company. 

Yes, its in my notes. Vitazon. 

Vitazon! That’s the one! Said every pill had a bit o’gold in it, straight from the rays of Atem. Said it- Oh what the hell was it. Said it only worked if you… There was some funny little jingle he wrote for it. Ah hell. The point was the pills only “worked” if you ate em every meal, and that meant subscribing to the company. A whole month’s supply of Vitazon, that was all you needed to purge the Judeo-Bolshevism from your body. Buncha nonsense. Made good money though. 

I see. Did you and your father ever reconcile before he passed?

Nah. He kicked the bucket before I got my big deal with the Saudis. Good riddance. You know what the last thing he said to me was? He called me while I was on a fishing trip up in big bear. I pick up the phone, and he starts rambling about how he wanted to be mummified. He wanted a full new-kingdom funeral. He said catholics weren’t allowed because they were a “semitic people.” I had him cremated, the bastard. But Emmett technically owns the estate. I think his ashes are kept in the temple of Aten, in one of those funny jars with the animal heads. 

What about Emmett?

You know doc, I don’t really like thinkin’ about Emmett. He’s living at the old house. But he’s got proper doctors to take care of him now. I saw to that. They send me letters every few months. Apparently he’s better than he used to be. Calmer. They say he just shuffles around the house wearin’ dads old Nemes. I think it makes him happy.

[444lotus]

how i manifested (+revised) my dream body ౨ৎ

This is my first post on my new account, though I am NOT new to the law and NOT new to loablr either. This post is specifically about how I manifested my dream body instantly with no technique besides knowing :)

PART ONE - the old story

In the old story, I was so fixated on my body and my weight all of the time, I was tracking my calories and weighing myself and my food obsessively and constantly gaining and losing weight. Back then, my beliefs were that 1) Excess food causes weight gain, 2) If I don't track my food and weigh myself, I will become too fat/skinny, and 3) There is something wrong with my body, and I need to diet/exercise to fix it.

Noticing these beliefs were key to changing the way I viewed food and my body, and therefore changing how I knew food to effect me and how I knew my body to be.

When I was overweight, I knew my body was too big, I knew I was eating too much, I knew excess calories made me gain weight. When I was underweight, I knew I had no appetite, I knew I was too bony, I knew that exercise makes you gain muscle which is why I had none, etc. I had to identify the limiting beliefs that made me know my body was a certain way.

PART TWO - writing the new story

Once I identified the beliefs that were holding me back and kept me from my goals ("I know I eat too much, even if I affirm I'm skinny, I'm still going to gain weight."), I could then change them. I wrote down a list of these beliefs, like I did above, and came up with reversals. For example;

"I overeat, so I will gain weight" -> "Calories aren't even real, so I can eat whatever I want and stay the same weight."

"I eat junk food, so I'll never be skinny" -> "I love how fast my metabolism is, I can eat junk all day and still stay so skinny." or "Junk food is just like other foods. Raspberries can't make me fat so neither can hamburgers."

"I don't exercise enough to be toned" -> "It's crazy how I'm naturally so toned and fit without trying."

The key for me was changing key beliefs that kept me dieting and exercising to lose weight, to sever the tie between calories consumed and weight, and hours exercising and muscles. These are limiting beliefs. We literally create our reality. Not ice cream, not soda and chips, none of that can overcome YOU as a divine creator. It sounds silly when you spell it out like that, doesn't it?

PART THREE - how i did it

Okay, now we understand that the secret is to change the rules of our own reality to allow us to know a higher truth (my higher truth? I am a skinny legend). So how do we put this into practice?

All you have to do is know. You set these rules, so you know they are true, reality is bound to them. You must know you are successful, know that reality is in the 4d, and feel truly satisfied in that realm. You can do this using whatever method you need to, but personally, I just knew deep within me that I was my ideal weight, and that nothing could change that, that is simply the reality, that is simply the way things are. I thought about old pictures I took of myself, and remembered how skinny I looked in them, I thought about the last time I saw my friends and how much littler they said I'd gotten, I thought about the last time I stood on the scale and how it read the exact weight I knew myself to be. And I just knew, deep within me, that was simply how things were.

And the last step, for me, was to feel truly joyful at this realization. To feel satisfied it came into fruition. Without seeking confirmation, because I already KNEW.

And what do you know? Pictures of myself in my phone from weeks ago, they were my ideal body. The girl I saw in the mirror when I stood up from my meditation? She had my ideal body. My clothes? XS and S, all of them. I had revised my ideal body all the way back to the day I bought them. And confirmed this by checking pictures I took in the dressing room.

I'm telling you right now it is possible if you know in your heart you've always had your desire. It's always been fulfilled within you. You make the rules because you are a divine creator. Nothing outside of you can change what you know to be true.

That's all for now ౨ৎ