#there will be a follow up.. i am working on it.

[wendysimp]

Secrets Out! Ep.2 (Leaked?)

Karina X Male Reader (Slight appearance by Aespa)

Tags: TitFucking, Ball sucking, Deepthroat, Spitting, Teasing, Videotaping, Quickie

~~ Be Sure to read Episode 1 here!

(3rd Person POV)

~ In the girls locker room

“You’re lying. That guy is a total loser.”

“Yeah, and a dick that big? It just doesn’t sound real.”

“I-I think he’s really cute.”

“Of course you think that Ning. But I’m serious! He just fucked Seulgi unnie and Wendy unnie in the backseat of the car!”

“His own step sister?!” The three of the girls were in complete shock with what they just heard.

A moment earlier before their chat, Karina drags her friends into the locker room to tell them about what she had just discovered in the parking lot. You, Seulgi and your own step sister Wendy having a threesome in the backseat.

“Yes! His own step sister!” Karina pulls out her phone. “Here look at this!”

She taps the play button, letting the video play for the girls to watch. Their eyes widened as they watch Wendy riding your cock while Seulgi rides your face.

“H-He’s actually fucking her.” Giselle spoke.

“Seulgi unnie is riding his face.” Winter followed up.

“Y/n’s… big cock.” Ning bites her lip making the girls look at her.

“Ning!” They all say, but she didn’t care and grabs the phone, skipping ahead of the video till it showed Wendy and Seulgi giving you a sloppy blowjob while recording themselves.

“Look! S-Such a big… fat… cock.” They all look back at the video, this time they put their focus on your dick.

The length, the thickness. They start to feel hungry. Hungry for your cock as they keep on watching. Karina starts to feel her panties getting soaked once again.

“F-Fuck! Again?” She bites her lip and looks down. The girls look at her and laugh.

“You’re getting wet huh?” Giselle teased.

“N-no! Shut up!” She defended herself but couldn’t hold back the blush.

“It’s okay if you are,” Winter chuckles softly. “I am too, I can’t lie.”

“Eww!” Giselle scoffed. “Let’s head back to class.” She grabs her bag as Winter and NingNing follow.

“I’ll be with you guys in a bit… I need to find Y/n and have a taste of him myself.” Karina whispered the last part to herself. They nodded and head to class.

Meanwhile, Karina was searching through the halls and all over the school, trying not to get caught to look for you but had no luck.

“Where could he be?” She thinks but then had an idea of where you could be. “Got it! The library! That nerd usually goes there at this time to do work.”

She quickly makes her way to the library, searching every section then finally spots you in the corner. She smirks wildly, knowing this was gonna be a perfect time. She walks up to you, taps your shoulder which makes you slowly turn your head.

“Hey nerd.” She says trying not to draw attention with the people around by staying as quiet as possible.

You sighed. “What do you want Karina? I’m busy doing my work.”

She sits next to you. “Well that can wait. I need to speak to you about something.”

“Get it over with already. I don’t like to be disturbed.” You put your attention back to your school work.

“Geez, calm down nerd. Look, I’m not gonna waste time here so let me just ask you something.” She looks at you. Thoughts of the video running through her mind.

“I’m not gonna do your homework for you.”

“It’s not about that idiot! It’s about something else.” She hits your arm.

“First off, ouch! And second, what could you possibly need from me?” You were curious. She would usually approach you about doing her homework or try to annoy you.

“It’s just a simple request.” She smirked which kinda creeped you out a little.

“Okay? What’s up?” You asked while she leans closer, your heart starts pounding. Is she about to kiss you?

“Can I maybe see… your cock?” She whispered. You froze up after her sudden request, the pen in your hand drops straight down to the floor.

“M-My what now?” You gulped. Did you hear correctly?

“Come on Y/n, you heard me.” She whispered more in a seductive tone while placing a hand on your thigh. She’s crazy you thought to yourself.

“N-No, are you crazy! I’m not showing you my stuff, that shit is weird!” You say trying not to be so loud.

“Oh that’s weird?” She smirks and takes her phone out. “Is it more weird that you fuck your own step sister.” She shows the video of you and your stomach drops.

“H-How did you get… delete that!” You try to take her phone but you were too slow. She giggled and teased you some more.

“Nope! You either show me your cock… or I will leak this video out and people will see how weird YOU really are.” She threatened.

This is fucked! You couldn’t figure out what to do. You can’t have that video getting leaked!

“Okay fine.” Those words make Karina’s smirk grow even bigger. This girl is crazy! I mean… she’s kinda hot but that’s not the point.

“That wasn’t so hard was it?” She teased you more.

“Shut up and let’s get this over with.” You get up, looking around, making sure no one’s around. “We gotta be quiet and be careful.” You whispered.

You undo your belt while Karina watches, biting her lip as she couldn’t wait for the grand reveal. You bring your hands down to the waistband of your pants, then slowly pull them down until…

*Slap*

Your dick sprung out, landing right on her face. She gasped at the size of your cock as it rests across her face.

“Oh… m-my… fucking… god.” You can feel her breath just between your balls and under your shaft sending shivers down your spine.

The scene was kinda hot. Actually, really hot! She grabs onto your dick, slowly stroking it while she was still amazed by the length and the feel.

“I-I thought you just wanted to see only.” You groan as you grip the table.

“You like this don’t you?” She completely ignored your words.

“Y-Yes.” You didn’t want to give in. But man it was so damn hard.

“I can see why even your step sister would fuck you. She’s very lucky I should say.” She giggled as she keeps stroking you before planting a kiss on your tip which was enough to make your knees weak.

“F-Fuck Karina!” You moan quietly, leaning your head back.”

Without any warning, she puts your cock into her mouth. Her soft moans vibrate around your shaft while your body tenses up. She takes you inch by inch trying to get use to your size.

“Mmm… so… big.” She slurped then pulls away. She spits onto your cock and strokes you making sure you’re completely soaked. “You like that nerd?”

At this point you couldn’t take it. You tangled your fingers in her hair and push her back down on your cock, making her bob up and down your wet cock.

“Just shut up and keep sucking bitch.” You groan as you make her deepthroat your dick, causing her to gag a little.

Instead of resisting, she let you do it. It was almost like she was allowing you to do that. Her saliva mixed with your pre cum drip down towards your balls. You pull her off your dick as you griped onto her hair.

“You fucking nerd,” She tries to catch her breath as she looks up at you. “Making me choke on your big, fat cock.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it.” You smirked as you smack your dick against her cheeks.

“I didn’t like it… I fucking loved it!” She sticks her tongue out and grabs your hard shaft to slap your tip onto it.

You groan out in pleasure as you watch her go down and suck on your balls while your cock is resting across her face.

“F-Fuck yes suck those balls.” Your eyes trail down and you bite your lip.

She pulls away. “Looking at my tits huh?” She looks down then back up at you. “You fucking perv. You think about my tits don’t you?”

“I would be lying if I said no.” Karina rolled her eyes.

“Mind telling me what you think about perv?” Her hands continue to stroke you.

“What your tits feel like in between my dick.” You grip her hair as she places more kisses all over your dick.

Karina was satisfied with your answer, and it only made her feel hotter. She takes her hands off your cock and moves back a little, taking off her hoodie.

“It’s only fair I show you my tits.” She pulls her pink crop top off, dropping it on the floor.

You look as your jaw drops. Her cleavage on display as her bra holds her big breasts together. Every little movement she makes, they bounce and jiggle around. You felt like you were being hypnotised.

Karina laughs as you stare for what felt like hours. “Look at you. You wanna see these tits huh?” She teased playing with the straps of her bra.

“Fuck yes.” You say almost instantly.

She takes off her bra, taking her time so she can tease and make you want more. Her big, soft tits are finally out, waiting to feel your touch.

(Y/n’s POV)

I lick my lips, reaching my hands over as I get a good grip on Karina’s tits. So fucking soft, so fucking big. She moans softly as she feels my touch.

“You like them?” She smirked, looking up at me.

“They’re amazing.” She smiles more at my answer while I keep playing with her melons. You then pull her onto your lap as you wanted to get a closer look.

“Ohh look at you,” She giggled. “Addicted already?” She teased.

“Maybe.” You dive in, rubbing your face in between her tits as she squirmed a little while holding you close.

I keep playing with her tits until she pushed me back against the chair, getting off my lap and onto her knees. She grabs onto my shaft and slaps the head against her tits.

“Mmm you like that daddy?” She looks into your eyes, turning you on with the way she addressed me.

It’s funny how Karina went from being a bitch towards me, to wanting more of my cock and calling me daddy. It just doesn’t seem real but I’m not complaining.

“I love it baby.” I grinned.

I can tell when I called her that it turned her on as she puts me between her tits and lets her spit drip down and onto my tip. She tightens the grip on my dick with her huge jugs, moving up and down slowly.

I moan softly. “Oh fuck, Karina! Your tits feel so fucking good!”

“I’m glad you like them daddy.” She winked.

I watch as my cock pops in and out between her tits before Karina sticks her tongue out, licking my tip every time she was close enough to lick it.

“Y-You’re gonna make me cum Karina!” I groan out.

“Cum for me daddy! Cum all over my tits.” She bites her lip as she was in desperate need of my cream.

She moves faster, she grips tighter while I grip the chair as I feel the sensation from her tits.

“I’m c-close baby.” I lean my head back.

I felt her reach for something and I look down as I see her phone in her hand.

“Would you mind recording? I wanna send this to my girls.” She asked with an innocent yet naughty smile.

“D-Don’t they hate me?” I grunt.

“After I send them the video, they won’t.” She hands me the phone. “Come on, please?”

Was it a good idea? What about the video she has of me, Wendy and Seulgi? I’m sure she can keep it a secret right? Ah fuck it!

“Fine.” I take the phone and start to record her cupping her tits together.

“Thank you daddy.” She smirks and moans sexily then shortly looks into the camera after waving a little. “Hey girls! His dick is so much bigger in person than on video.” She spits down on my cock again.

Did she… show them the video? Oh god. Let’s just hope nothing spreads around. I gotta be careful.

“Ahh fuck! Keep moving those big tits.” I groan.

“Mmm you like that daddy?” She breathed, moving more seductively.

“I love it baby. Keep going, you’re doing amazing.” I stroke her cheek. I guess Karina loves the way I praise her by the way she looked at me with a grin.

“I want your cream daddy!” She moves faster and faster. I was getting close, I tried to keep the phone as steady as I could but it was a little difficult.

“Y-You want it? Fucking take it!” You groan trying to stay as quiet as possible. The sound of her melons slapping against me.

I shoot my first load, making a mess all over her tits.

“O-Oh fuck! So much daddy! I-I… oh my!” Another load right across her cheek and around her mouth. “Fuck! This is the best load ever!” She smiles, gathering some of my cum from her tits before seductively sucking her fingers.

“You like the taste of daddy’s cum baby?” I smirked as I try to catch my breath. This view of Karina was fucking amazing to see.

“You taste so good daddy. I might want more.” She winks at you then looks at the camera. “Sorry girls, maybe I’ll invite you next time.” She wanted to tease them. She blows a kiss then grabs her phone.

“Soo, there’s a next time?” I bite your lip.

“Maybe.” She looks at me and grins again. She cleans herself up with some wipes she had in her bag before cleaning my cock with her mouth. “God you taste so good Y/n.” She kisses your tip.

I moan softly and smile and the both of us fix ourselves up, putting back our clothes that we had taken off.

“You’re not gonna leak the video right?” I asked.

“Mmm…” my heart was pounding. I can’t have this video get leaked. If my parents see it, they will flip out. Especially my mom! “I won’t.”

You let out a sigh. “Thank you.” I tell her and she smiles while sending the video to her friends. “You single?” You push your luck.

“No Y/n!” She glares at me. “You might have a chance though.” She moves close to me.

“Oh I’m gonna make you mine, just wait and see.” I pull her close. Both of our faces inches away.

“I like your confidence Y/n.” She looks into my eyes.

“Will you let me kiss you?” I whispered then see her face as she blushed.

“I don’t know try it.” She challenged. I lean in and kiss her deeply and passionately as I held her hips. She returned the passion back and moves her hand behind my head.

We pull away, out of breath as we were smiling like idiots. She’s really a whole fucking package.

“I guess I’ll see you around nerd.” She giggled and bites her lip softly.

I roll my eyes playfully. “Still calling me that huh? What happened to daddy?” I teased and she blushed, hitting my arm. “I’m kidding, I’ll see you around Karina.”

We both exchanged numbers and we both go our separate ways. Man I really am a lucky guy. Little did I know, a little misclick would cause some little problems in the future.

(3rd Person POV)

*Ding*

A girl takes out her phone during class, turning it on without alerting the teacher. She opens the link as it takes her to a video that shouldn’t be seen. She gasps quietly.

“W-What the fuck?! Is that Y/n?!”

End Of Ep.2

To be continued!

A little short but I’ll try to make them a bit longer. Hope you guys enjoyed this one. You guys can also help with this series by suggesting ideas and idols you want to see, so be free to send me a dm or inbox me!☺️

[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

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

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 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

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 !!

<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

[jo-speaks]

CANN U PLZ WRITE QUINN AND HIS GF HAVING HOT TOB SEXXHWINDIS PLZLZLZ

HOT TUB ANTICS

overview: a relaxing night in the hot tub with quinn turns into something more. (+ the origin of this picture)

warnings: smut! MDNI (18+pls guys), dirty talk, thigh riding, unprotected sex, etc.

note: ooo the thoughts i had running though my head when i saw this picture and then this request came though i swear i almost blew up. also this is not proofread because it's 12:40 am and i have class tomorrow :)

wc: 2.5k

You were struggling to tie the laces of your bikini top when you heard a knock on your door.

“Y/N? The tub’s ready.” Quinn called out, his hand lingering on the knob as he waited for your response.

He heard your grumble before it was followed with, “Can you help me?”. Turning the knob, he walked in, trying his best to keep his composure as the loose top barely covered your breasts, the bottoms doing little to nothing to cover your ass. 

“Quinn?” You smirked, noticing his stare. 

“Huh? Sorry,” He replied sheepishly, making his way over to you. 

Four years of dating and he still got distracted when he saw you like this. He brought his hands up, his fingers finding the laces of your top, bringing them around your back. He did quick work of tying it together, a smirk appearing on his face as you brought your hands up to adjust the padding that covered your boobs. You had pulled one side forward a little too much, allowing Quinn to catch a quick peek at your nipple. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning forward to rest his forehead on the top of your head. “You can’t do that, baby.”

“Do what?” You asked innocently. 

“You’re such a tease.” He laughed, “C’mon. The water’s gonna get cold."

You smiled and grabbed the towels you had waiting on the edge of the bed, taking Quinn’s hand as he guided you downstairs. Thankfully, it was pretty late at night so the house was quiet, everyone upstairs sleeping or passed out due to the drinking they had done throughout the course of the night. 

When Quinn slid open the glass door, the Michigan air flowing into the warm air of the house. A small breeze caught your abdomen, causing your arms to bring the towels up in front of you in an attempt to reserve your heat. Quinn laughed, taking the towels from you and putting a hand around your lower back to guide you outside. 

He set the towels down, taking both of your phones and putting them on top of the stack before dipping a foot in, the other following suit. When the water came up to the middle of his torso, he stuck his hand out, asking for yours so he could guide you in. The warm water felt amazing, so it didn’t take long for you to join him fully. 

Quinn took a set along the benches instilled in the tub, watching as you stood in the center, allowing the lower half of your body to acclimatize before taking a seat beside him. You let your head rest on his shoulder, the palm of his hand coming to rest on your thigh. 

“I missed this.” You sighed, your muscles relaxing as he turned the jets on the lowest level, the pressured water shooting against your backs. 

Quinn chuckled, hand shifting around your waist to mess with the bows of your bikini, “The hot tub? It does feel nice.”

“No. Well, yes, but I meant you.” You smiled, “Missed being this close to you.”

Quinn gave your thigh a squeeze, “Me too. M’sorry this summer is kinda all over the place.”

“It’s okay. I see you all year, anyway.” 

That was true. He had asked you to move in after two years of being together. Summers always gave you mixed feelings, though. Some days you’d get to be around him one hundred percent of the time, while others you’d only see him for some or not at all. You’d always appreciated his drive, and his determination to not only be better for himself but for his team. But summers were meant to be relaxing, an outlet for everything hockey. Loving him just meant adjusting to his passion, and that was no problem for you. 

Quinn reached over your shoulder, grabbing his phone, and handing it to you before letting his hand drop to your side, toying with the strings of your bikini yet again. “Play something.” You unlocked it, opening up Spotify and putting on the playlist you two had created together on shuffle. It was a slow, sensual song that had played the first time the two of you had sex and suddenly the close contact between the two of you felt too far. Your thighs rubbed together, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But it was Quinn. He noticed everything about you. 

He threw his head back with a soft laugh, lulling it back to the side to look at you with his green eyes, the blue lights of the tub making them seem brighter, “You okay over there, baby?”

You looked over at him, a desire lingering in your gaze. You brought a hand up to his cheek, cupping it softly as you shifted closer, pressing a kiss to his lips. He smiled against your mouth, both hands coming to the side of your waist, effortlessly bringing you onto his lap, your legs on either side of him. Your hands came up to his hair as the kiss quickly went from slow and passionate to rushed and desperate. You wanted to take your time, but something about the way he held you and the music in the background had you yearning for him.

Quinn pulled back, and before you could complain, he was trailing kisses down the column of your neck, marking your skin wherever he could. His lips landed on a particularly sensitive spot, a soft moan passing your lips as your hands gripped at his hair. You could feel his cock twitch against your core through his shorts, your hips grinding down to meet the movement. 

“Stop moving.” He groaned, “You’re gonna make me cum in my pants.”

Per his request, you stopped moving, not wanting this to come to an end before it even got started. Instead, you shifted your position so that instead of being straddled across both of his legs, you were only around one. You pressed down, rocking your hips forward. The friction of his muscle against your clit was enough to have your head feeling dizzy, your hands dropping from his hair to his shoulders. He knew you could get off like this, and he wasn’t about to stop you. 

“So desperate to get off already, hm? And I’ve barely even touched you.”

His deep voice had you speeding up already, moans slipping past your parted lips as Quinn’s hands gripped your waist impossibly tighter, most likely leaving bruises you would feel in the morning.

“Quinn…” You moaned, your forehead coming down to rest on his shoulder. 

He could feel the warmth of your breath meeting his skin that sat above the water, his hands now guiding your movements as he felt you slowing down. “Tell me how bad you need me right now, sweet girl. Wanna hear it from you.”

You were never one to feel embarrassed in the bedroom, but you felt exposed out in the hot tub. There weren’t any cameras and everyone was asleep inside, but something about not having the privacy of four walls had you second-guessing yourself. 

“C’mon. Don’t go all quiet on me now,” He encouraged, his thigh tensing in an attempt to give you more courage. “Tell me how desperately you need me to fuck you.”

His words alone made you moan louder than intended. You turned your head, your cheek now to his shoulder as you peered up at him through your lashes. He copied you, twisting his neck to meet your soft gaze. The desperation in your eyes almost caused him to cum in his pants right then and there. 

“Please, Q.” You whined, your eyes fluttering as you tried to keep them open. “Need to feel you inside of me.”

He smirked, “Yeah? Want me to fuck you?”

You nodded, your orgasm creeping up on you as you tried to answer him. He could feel it – the way your thighs tensed even more, your nails digging into his skin and your noises becoming louder as he moved your hips faster. 

“M’gonna cum, Quinn!” You cried, your movements stuttering against his thigh.

Quinn placed a kiss on your cheek, “Go for it, Y/N. Let go for me.”

The second the words left his mouth you felt the knot in your stomach snap. A stream of moans leaving your throat as Quinn guided your hips, his sweet praises making it feel all that much better. 

You brought your right hand up from his shoulder, your fingers curling around the curve of the side of his neck. Pressing yourself up, you connected your lips once again, this time the pressure feeling softer as your legs shook against his thigh.

“Did so good.” He cooed, kissing you once more before shifting you off his leg, his hands coming down to slide his shorts down to rest at his ankles. Once he adjusted himself to the bare feeling, he brought his hands over to you, undoing the bows he had been toying with all night as he slipped your bottoms off effortlessly.

He didn’t have to do a thing, your body naturally gravitating back towards him as you swung a leg around his waist yet again. 

Your eyes caught his, silently asking him for permission. He didn’t answer, simply resorting to guiding your hips down against him, his cock slipping into you inch by inch. Quinn let out a groan, the feeling of your warmth around him had his head reeling. 

The music had simply become background noise by now, the only thing that mattered to the two of you being how perfectly you felt against each other. 

“It’s like you were made for me, beautiful.” He praised once he was fully inside of you. 

You nodded, blinking your eyes open to look at him. “I’m yours, Quinn. Only yours.”

The words were too sweet for the moment, but he blushed them nonetheless. He slowly thrusted up, the movement feeling experimental, his next one being just as slow. The pace was enough for you both to feel good, but not enough for you to get off. Which is just what he wanted. Quinn wanted to take his time, appreciating your body and the way you felt while this close to him. 

He didn’t want it to end. 

You let him bask in his thoughts, your body shifting forward as you left little kisses across his chest. Not enough to leave marks, but enough to have his stomach tingle at the feeling of your soft lips. You knew how much he had started to like having his shirt off when in the sun, so you decided to leave him with a little soft mark on his chest that could easily be confused for a red patch he often got. 

Your lips moved upward, kissing softly at his neck before shifting up to nip at his ear. Something about the feeling had his thrusts falter slightly, his need to fill you up slowly becoming overwhelming. 

Quinn’s movements sped up, his length dragging just a tad bit faster into you, the water starting to splash the slightest bit as soft groans escaped his chest. “So fucking perfect.”

His words made you smile, your eyebrows furrowing at the increase in speed. “I love you so much, handsome.”

His hands rounded from your waist to your ass, each hand grabbing a handful as he pulled you up, maneuvering your body to meet his hips. 

The adjustment caused him to go deeper, the tip of his cock hitting that spot inside you that had you gasping his name. Your sounds became uncontrollable and the fact that they were flowing straight into Quinn’s ear didn’t help his composure at all. 

He knew he wouldn’t be holding out much longer, stomach tensing as you clenched tighter around him, but he was never one to cum before you, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. 

Quinn brought one hand back around, fitting it in between your bodies as his thumb began to circle your clit. You wailed, biting your lip to try and keep yourself under control as your orgasm built up again, the task becoming increasingly harder the faster he moved. 

“Need you to let go for me, baby.” He sighed, his cock drilling into you, “Please just cum for me again. Know you can do it.” 

His encouragement had your brain flooding out anything that wasn’t Quinn. All you could focus on were his panting breaths, and the way his eyes fluttered shut as his lips parted further. The sight alone had all your composure crumbling, a feeling of euphoria overtaking your body. 

Quinn felt your pussy clenching around him. The all-familiar feeling had his muscles tensing, his cock halting inside of you as he let himself go, his cum spurting thick ropes of white into you. 

The feeling of him leaking out of you was disguised by the jets of the hot tub, the pressure from them cleaning your exposed skin. You panted against his mouth, the feeling of his mustache tickling the tip of your nose.

Quinn blinked his eyes open as you backed up, your eyes drinking in the man in front of you. Your fingers traced his cheekbones before eventually finding their home in his hair.

He smiled at the sight of you, “You look so fucking perfect on top of me.”

You giggled, warmth rising to your face, “Don’t get used to it, that was exhausting.” 

“You barely did anything!” He laughed, eyes widening in fake disbelief. 

The laughter died down, both of you fully embracing the moment. You kissed him yet again, slower this time, basking in the way his – now swollen– lips felt against yours.

You reached to your side, this time grabbing your phone as you opened your camera app. Holding the phone out beside the two of you, you kissed the tip of his nose as your thumb hit the button to snap a picture. You didn’t look at it before kissing his lips, snapping yet another picture. 

“What are you doing?” Quinn asked, looking over at your phone as you seized the moment and kissed his cheek, getting another picture of him smiling at the feeling. 

“Documenting,” You smiled, “You look so good.”

He laughed as he brought the phone in front of his face, putting the .5 setting on and laughing as you caught the moment. “I wanna get one with just you in here, hang on.”

You pressed yourself up, allowing his cock to slip out of you, a sigh leaving both your lips. He pulled his shorts up as you tied your bikini bottoms back around your waist. You stood up, leaving the warmth of the water and circling around the hot tub to capture Quinn in all his beauty. 

After a few shots, Quinn picked up his phone trying to look busy.  “Okay, look at you modeling for me.” You teased, a smile creeping up on his face as you snapped yet another picture, before rejoining him in the water.

[fxstpace]

☆ kim mingyu x fem!reader ⇢ domestic fluff, established relationship au. 0.57k words.

“this is a bad idea.”

“this is not a bad idea.”

“i’m going to ruin everything.”

“you’re not going to ruin anything,” mingyu assures, turning to look over his shoulder at you, even though his hair is sectioned off, and your gloved hands are already poised with a streak of dark blue dye.

you groan, throwing him a half-hearted glare. “stop moving! this is already stressful without you wiggling around.”

your boyfriend obediently stills, turning back around and letting you carefully work the dye into his bleached hair. the colour looks ominously dark against the bright blonde; you freeze for a moment, heart pounding.

“what if it comes out patchy? or green? or worse—what if i miss a spot, and you have to walk around looking like a dalmatian?” you say in a rush, trying to focus on evenly coating the strands.

“i think that’d look good, actually,” he teases, but when he notices the tension in the line of your jaw, his voice softens. “seriously, though, you’re doing great. even if it turns out bad, i don’t care. it’s just hair.”

you huff. “you’re saying that now, but wait until it’s done. then you’ll be begging me to shave your head.”

“bold of you to assume i absolutely wouldn’t rock a shaved head,” mingyu says, grinning as he looks at you in the mirror. you shoot him a warning look, and he faces forward, adopting the expression of a chastised child. “sorry, sorry! i’ll stay still.”

“thank you.” you exhale, leaning closer to ensure every strand is thoroughly saturated. the gloves crinkle while you section off another chunk of his hair, carefully applying the dye.

he hums a soft, aimless tune under his breath to fill the silence, the melody curling around you both, gentle and warm. his eyes follow every movement of yours, and his lips curve upwards into a tender smile. “you’re really focused on this, aren’t you?”

“of course i am!” you reply, brows knitting in determination. “you trusted me with your hair, mingyu. your hair. the thing you spend half an hour styling every morning even if we’re just running out to buy milk.”

“first of all, it’s only twenty minutes, not thirty. second, i trust you.”

“yeah, well, don’t get too comfortable. i’m not a professional,” you mutter, though your cheeks heat up at his words because it’s such a mingyu thing to say—unabashedly sincere, the kind of sweetness that isn’t sugar-coated because it simply is. 

“that’s okay. professionals are boring. you’re much better.”

you roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “you’re such a flirt.”

“can’t help it. my girlfriend’s cute.”

“flattery will not save you if this goes horribly wrong,” you warn, reaching for the dye bottle to squeeze out the last bit of product.

he tilts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “good thing i’m not worried, then.”

with one final swipe, you finish applying the dye and step back to inspect your work. mingyu wraps his blue-tinged hair in a plastic cap and peers at his reflection in the mirror. “well?” he asks. “am i handsome yet?”

“you always are.”

“and you say i’m the flirt.”

grinning, you poke his cheek. “sit down and don’t touch anything. i don’t need blue stains everywhere in our apartment.”

“got it, boss,” he says, plopping down on the edge of the bathtub. his expression turns contemplative. “next time, we’re going pink.”

“absolutely not.”

⇢ a/n: everyone say thank you to skye for sending me a series of blue-haired mingyu pics yesterday night that prompted me to lose whatever small amount of sanity i had.

[magellanicpenguin]

this is what i sent. feel free to fact check me or use it yourself.

The decline of western civilization was first heralded by Francis Galton's perverse interpretation of his cousin Charles Darwin's theory of evolution, coining the word and pseudo-science "eugenics". He argued that Europeans were naturally better, 'higher races', because of their superior breeding, and the peoples of Africa, Asia, and the Americas were of course lesser races because of inherent inferiority in their genes. Not only were these races physically and intellectually worse, they were morally repugnant. It stood to reason that, similar to how a breeder chooses which mares and stallions should mate based on their desirable qualities, the state should create a program to incentivize those of good breeding to couple. This, along with prominent economists Herbert Spencer (who believed the poor and working class were genetically lazy and amoral, and opposed any bills that would improve their conditions) and William Graham Sumner (who opposed a welfare state, so that those who could not afford shelter or food would perish, and with them their weak and immoral genes), Social Darwinism consumed all of the western world.

There was a strong desire for self-justification among the wealthy Europeans and Americans. In a time period where social class was so unavoidably visible, just the presence of a soot-stained laborer on the side of the road would likely feel like an accusation; why do you get to be rich and comfortable? Why can't you help me? Eugenics was an easy rationalization that fit neatly into pre-existing chauvinism. "The people who are poor are poor because they are of poor moral character, who have greed and sin written into their genes, and do not deserve my help, even a single penny, because they would immediately waste it. They are weak, and it is only natural that they die. I am only rich because I deserve it, because I have earned it through my talents and my good morals, as I am of good noble stock…", which quickly turned into, "My country is the best, because we are inherently better. That country is poor because it is full of criminals and rapists, because they are inherently bad." A surprisingly modern sentiment, don't you think? I've think I've heard a line like that on the news somewhere…

Eugenics was incredibly popular in Europe and the Americas, and was supported by many vaunted political leaders of the time, such as Winston Churchill and Woodrow Wilson. It was only a matter of time before eugenics, nationalism, and xenophobia ("I don't want X people in my country, they're all rapists or criminals or stupid or just plain bad!" …again, how shockingly modern) informed policy decisions, especially immigration policy. In America, the Emergency Quota Act of 1921, followed by the The Immigration Act of 1924, for the first time in history defined legal immigration as 'permitted' up to a certain quota per nation with an overall cap, rather than prohibiting those explicitly excluded (i.e. the The Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882) and allowing everyone else. When a modern American bemoans the immigration 'crisis', what they are actually bemoaning is the American insistence on a system which automatically classifies an immigrant as 'illegal', when before you were automatically classified as 'legal'. This was done to severely limit immigration from countries that "disturbed the pre-existing sociological balance".

At one point, while the quota system was still in effect (it was discontinued in 1965), over 82% of all quota spots were allotted to Northern and Western European nations, 14% to Southern and Eastern Europeans, leaving a paltry 4% for the rest of the Eastern Hemisphere. All of this was done to achieve "the preservation of whiteness". Africans and their diaspora, Jews, and Asians were all seen as invaders which might corrupt or 'replace' them. I once read that if you were to ask a random person on the street in 1930 which nation would most likely persecute Jews and drive them out, they would likely guess France or Poland. This was how universal, in Europe, antisemitic and eugenic sentiments were. In light of these attitudes, perhaps you can better understand the indifference the average American citizen possessed when the war started. Jews wanting to escape? No, they wanted to immigrate, which meant they had to abide by the quotas, just like everyone else. Those are the rules, you have to follow them. 900 Jews on a boat, having just fled Europe? We don't want them. Jews, dying? Well, that's their lot in life, they are morally corrupt. It's in their genes.

The reason Eisenhower insisted on photographing the death camps was because he knew how apathetic the American people were to the plight of the Jews. The domestic presses had dismissed 'death camps' as propaganda and exaggeration. It seemed the America people were unwilling to be charitable, and eager to be proven right that Jews were a lying, manipulative race unfit to be Americans. I do not need to imagine Eisenhower's frustration and rage at describing the atrocities he was seeing, and still be faced with stalwart deniers, stalwart defenders of the Nazis. I feel the same frustration every time I have the misfortune of having to argue with a MAGA nut. I do wonder how satisfied he felt when pictures of Auschwitz hit American presses, and the American people were faced with the consequences of their inaction. How embarrassing it must have been, to keep insisting you are so moral and good and superior, and yet you defended death trains and mass graves and gas chambers.

This is the truth that I wish every American understood today, as we have forgotten it since. We are not a lofty descendant of great Vikings or European kings, 'whiteness' is not superior in anyway, and we are not better than anybody by being an American. America is not an exceptional nation, not more 'free' or 'special' than any other nation, and is in fact in very poor condition. Many people living here are, in fact, of the worst moral quality in the world, not because they're an American, but because by virtue of the American upbringing, the American (lack of) community, the American privileges, and the failure of our American media, so many people have the intelligence and integrity of a mosquito.

Earlier this week, Elon Mosquito very smugly stuck his arm out as a twelve year old might do with his friends when his teacher has turned her back, held at a stiff 45 degree angle. He said, "Thank you for saving the future of civilization." For those who keep a thumb on his antics on Twitter, and on the neo-nazi community, this an obvious dog whistle in line with his established views. Fascism's primary goal is the preservation of western civilization against the perceived threat of inferior races, which sustains itself by the insistence of western exceptionalism and fear-mongering against non-white people (eugenics and nationalism back at it again). Elon Mustache has posted plenty of dog whistles in the past. Pictures of the salute has promulgated the internet, and has met with waves upon waves of backlash and disapproval. I think it should be a sign of a just and moral individual that they should use their full legal name to denounce such an obvious homage to Elon Mustard's favorite German Chancellor. Sam Kuffel probably did not mean to become a symbol of political censorship with her modest post, and yet you, CBS, have turned her into one.

I, like many Americans with working brains, have been greatly displeased with the media since the 2016 election, and ever since, media companies have continued to prove that they are corrupt, dishonest, and motivated purely by capital gains. You report on politics like it's an NFL game and Trump is Tom Brady. I have not been able to sit through a single political newscast since 2014 because of how insufferable all your talking heads are. Everything is an op-ed, everything is inflammatory, and it sickens the mind to listen to what your station puts out. What I would give for a dry, barren delivery of the relevant facts!

You should be aware, I would hope, that under the Third Reich, press was strictly state-controlled. Reporting negatively on Hitler or the war resulted in terrible consequences. The firing of Sam Kuffel tells me, and should tell all of America, that we are already in the stage of a dictatorship where the press is powerless to defy a single man. Please be aware, CBS, of how pathetic that makes you.

[alaaismail1]

✅Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is (#444) ✅

‼️ please don't ignorance this ‼️

My name is Alaa, and I am a Palestinian mother living with my husband and three children in Gaza amidst the ongoing war. Today, I am reaching out to ask for your support for my family, as we face challenges far beyond our ability to endure. Since the recent war began, we have been displaced five times, desperately searching for a safer place for our children, but danger follows us everywhere.

My three children – Hala (12), Amir (9), and Sham (4) – are suffering from health issues caused by contaminated water and the poor living conditions in shelters. Sham contracted a painful infection due to polluted water, Amir struggles with severe insect allergies, and Hala has a chest allergy that worsens with every airstrike due to the polluted air filled with the smell of gunpowder.

My husband lost his job because of the war, and we now rely entirely on donations to provide for our basic needs, including food, water, and medicine. I dream of leaving Gaza to start a new life, where my husband can work, my children can return to school, and we can live safely in a simple and secure home.

Every donation, no matter how small, means the world to us. If you are unable to donate, I kindly ask you to share my story with others. Your support is our only hope to survive this crisis and rebuild our lives.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #444 )✅️

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Hi! I loved the "through their eyes" fanfic with lando, and i was wondering if youd do it with literally any other driver? Maybe oscar, max or charles? If not thats fine x

through their eyes .ೃ࿐

Summary: charles and y/n's relationship through other people's eyes.

lando's version

༉‧₊˚. cl x reader ‗ ❍

༉‧₊˚. fluff ‗ ❍

masterlist ☾☼

arthur

arthur loved his brother. he really did. his elder brother was his favourite person in the world sometimes.

key word: sometimes.

he hated his brother when he called in the middle of the night. he hated his brother a little more when his reason for calling was because he was afraid his new little puppy had accidentally eaten chocolates.

charles himself never ate chocolates. arthur knew that. so, he couldn’t understand where charles had the idea that leo ate chocolates.

nevertheless, he let his brother drag him to an emergency vet at 4 am. charles was craddling leo, talking to him in a baby voice. arthur tried to take the whole thing seriously, he really did, but sometimes his brother forgot that other people needed sleep.

"they're taking so long. what if something happens to leo in that time? this is an emergency." charles mumbled.

arthur sighed and said, "you're next in line. just be patient."

charles nodded and went back to running his fingers through leo's fur.

when they finally called charles' name, he immediately stood up and speed walked towards the door. arthur sighed, and followed behind, dragging his feet because he really just wanted to be in his bed right now.

"hi, i'm doctor y/l/n. what brings you here?" the doctor was pretty, arthur had to admit.

though, the funny part was the way his brother had lost the part of his brain that made sentences as he stared at the doctor with wide eyes.

as much as arthur loved to see his brother like this, he refused to let him make a fool of himself, or of arthur.

"his dog apparently ate chocolates?" arthur said.

the vet let out a small chuckle, "you say that as if you're not sure,"

"well, i just came home and saw chocolate wrappers around him, which was weird, and immediately rushed him here." charles finally said, finding the part of his brain that made words.

"that is weird. do you have a lot of chocolate at home?" she asked as she began to check for any signs on leo.

"not really. i don't eat a lot of chocolate," charles said, alternating between the doctor and leo.

"any idea where the chocolate was since it was accessible to such a small dog?"

both leclercs stopped for a second and thought. charles was usually careful about not leaving things like that near leo's reach, well aware that leo was a hyperactive dog. and for the days that charles was away, arthur babysat leo. just like he had done that day.

oh.

arthur's brain finally began working, and he hit his brother's back.

"i had the chocolates!" arthur exclaimed.

charles turned to him, confused, "what?"

"i was babysitting leo today and i got some chocolates with me!"

"so you ate them in my living room and left the wrappers?" charles asked, a little bit of anger seeping through his voice.

oh.

this was what arthur had told himself today to not repeat to his brother. that he had been lazy and decided not to clean up like he knew he should've.

arthur opened his mouth to defend himself, to say anything that could pass off and not have his brother lecture him in the middle of the night. but, the doctor saved him. thank fuck.

"oh, i know what you mean. sometimes, i have too many chocolates, and then i fall asleep from a sugar crash and forget to pick up the wrappers or clean up," she said casually, as she continued checking leo.

charles turned back to her, and arthur watched as he slowly nodded and accepted the answer. arthur wasn't sure whether he wanted to be pissed at that or amazed at the power this woman already held.

she subtly winked at arthur, and he decided that he liked this woman.

she turned to charles and said, "alright, he's not vomitting, so that's a good sign. i'm gonna write my personal number for you just in case there's an emergency."

arthur smiled, though he tried to hide it. he knew what she was doing. he just hoped his brother caught on too.

charles took the piece of paper from her, and thanked her. she waved at the two brothers, as they turned to leave.

just as they settled in charles' car, he asked, "why did she give me her personal number?"

arthur facepalmed.

carlos

carlos had been seeing charles' new "friend" quite often in the paddock. charles hadn't introduced them yet, and carlos didn't know why. he still respected his teammate's wishes.

carlos liked to think that he was an observant man. he liked to think that he knew charles well enough to read his body language and know or at least, understand some part of what his teammate was feeling.

he had been observing charles every time y/n was close by. had been watching the way charles stood a little taller, spoke a little softer, laughed a little harder. watched the way charles almost touched her back while showing her around, and insisted on putting the headphones on her head himself, and the way charles waited and waited for her to do anything and everything.

it reminded him of lando and his girlfriend. though, those two were much more touchy than whatever this was. in comparison, charles seemed hesitant, yet eager.

it was during the fourth or fifth grand prix that carlos noticed that charles was properly touching her. not just a hand on her back to guide her way, but a hand on the waist, and her arm, and sometimes her fingers. not only that, she was touching him just as much. she played with his rings and his hair, and she stood just a tad closer than friends would.

carlos knew then that something had changed. something had definitely changed, and he knew it was for the better. he did not say anything, though. it wasn't his place.

towards the end of the season, charles finally introduced the woman to carlos.

"carlos, this is dr. y/n y/l/n. she's a vet," he paused, "and my girlfriend,"

carlos smiled instantly. shaking y/n's hand, he said, "hello, dr. y/n. i am carlos sainz jr, though i'm sure you're already aware of that."

she laughed, and carlos watched the way charles lit up, "yes, i do know who you are! i'm so glad to finally meet you!"

"me too! i was expecting charles to hide you from the world, especially me," carlos laughed.

"i apologise, that was based on my request," y/n looked slightly apologetic, but she also seemed sure in her response. it was her request to not be known, and she had the vibe that she would fight anyone who questioned it.

"well, then i'm glad to see charles is capable to following requests. my request for feeding him pancakes have always been ignored. hopefully, you can convince him,"

charles groaned, while y/n laughed, leaning into him slightly.

"i'll convince him, for sure. don't worry,"

the three of them chatted for a little while longer, giggling and making fun of charles. when she started yawning, and leaning into charles more, carlos bid his goodbyes to the couple.

he watched as charles tucked her into him, and watched they shared a soft kiss as they walked towards the exit. he watched as charles smiled radiantly, and he smiled as well.

what was it with carlos and watching his teammates finding their forever loves in front of him?

lewis

being a part of ferrari had been a dream. it was everyone's dream. but, lewis had some doubts. it had been a tough decision, definitely. now, though, with almost half of the season over, lewis felt more comfortable.

he had been waiting for charles to finish talking to the fia president to go over some strategy changes for the next few races. he wasn't eavesdropping, he was just listening attentively for any signs of their conversation being over. lewis desperately wanted to go home, but he wanted to finish this and then go home.

as soon as the conversation ended, lewis watched as charles and his girlfriend bid their goodbyes and walked to charles' driver room. lewis jogged to keep up. he was 40. he shouldn't have to jog to keep up now.

just as lewis reached the door, the two had already locked themselves in the room. in hindsight, lewis could have just yelled at them to wait up like a normal person would, but well, maybe he doesn't care about the strategies enough to do it.

he raised his hand to knock when the words from inside the room registered in his brain.

"-such a dick." y/n was saying. who was a dick? a lot of people were dicks, so it didn't exactly narrow down the list for lewis.

charles laughed. his voice was louder. maybe he was standing closer to the door.

"don't laugh! it was so annoying standing there. three different people, including me, mentioned to that fuckass president of yours that i'm a vet and i have a medical degree, and i've made a name for myself! but, no! he kept referring to me as your girlfriend!"

if lewis leaned against the wall to get slightly more comfortable, he definitely didn't. definitely.

"you say as if it's a bad thing he referred to you as my girlfriend! you are my girlfriend, after all." charles said.

"that's not the point, charles. the point is that i'm accomplished in my own ways. i'm y/n y/l/n first, and somebody's something second. him refusing to acknowledge that i'm a doctor, even if it was for animals, was disrespectful."

lewis hoped that charles got his shit together in this conversation.

"i understand that. but, you know that's how he is. we've all told you stories of how he is. he's not going to change." well, lewis agreed that he wasn't going to change, but it still wasn't the argument that charles thought it was.

"that's bullshit, no? he's the president of the fia, and he refuses to acknowledge women as someone other than a secondary person. i mean, how many others has he done this with? we've got professional golfer lily, and a super smart degree in engineering, and we've got kika as a model and studying in fashion design. they're all highly accomplished women."

"mon cheri, i agree with you. i promise i do. but, the president barely treats us drivers as humans. his viewership and his money literally depends on us, and he doesn't have the decency to treat us nicely,"

that was true, lewis had to agree.

it was quiet for a few moments, and then hushed whispers. lewis leaned in closer to the door as he tried to make out the words, but he just couldn't.

"oh, hey lewis!" one of the mechanics said, clapping a hand on his back.

lewis immediately straightened, and made polite conversations. he really wanted to get back to listening to the conversation happening inside.

just as he was done with the conversation, the door opened, and charles greeted them, and the conversation began again.

for fucks sake.

jules

jules was always watching from the sky. he was always watching over his godson. after all, that was the duty of a godfather, wasn't it? to protect the godson when no one else could. to be there for the godson when no one else could. jules had promised charles' father that he would always look after his son, and not even death can stop jules.

he'd watched charles find y/n. he'd watched the way she supported him and helped him grow as a person. he's watched as she made him the happiest man on earth. he'd watched her celebrate every win with him, and comforted him through every loss.

it was safe to say that jules felt the proudest of his godson the day he proposed to y/n. charles was smart to never let her go. charles was smart to make sure that she stayed with him and loved him just like he loved her and wanted to stay with her.

it was the day of charles and y/n's wedding.

jules was there in spirit. he always was.

y/n was a sweetheart. she had saved him a seat, along with charles' father in the front row for charles. jules wasn't sure if she had told charles, but he knew his godson would be so thankful for it.

jules was there in his suit and tie, looking crisp, even if no one could see him. he sat on the seat reserved for him as he waited for the groom to walk down the aisle first.

he saw every person who ever cared about charles sitting there. family, friends, team, ex drivers, current drivers. it made jules smile. so many people loved charles. so many loved y/n as well. to see them all together in one place to celebrate their love was heartwarming.

the music began, and charles walked down the aisle with his groomsmen: pierre, carlos, and bryan. they smile and laugh with him, shaking his shoulders as tear gather in charles' eyes.

jules watched as charles' gaze roam across the mass of people sitting there. he waves slightly at a few. jules watched as charles' gaze finally settled on him. he watched as charles' tears fell at the realisation of what his fiance had done for him.

he watched as charles covered his face, silent sobs escaping him. and then, the music began, and the bride walked down the aisle. everyone stood, including jules.

the bride was smiling wide, a little bounce in her steps as if she couldn't wait to marry his godson. her hand was tucked in her father's elbow, and the other hand held a bouquet of lilies.

jules watched as she stood on the little podium in front of charles, smiling brightly while his tears mixed with his grin. the love in charles' eyes was as beautiful as the aurora borealis in the night sky.

the ceremony began, and they went through the usual process. jules had been to few weddings, though he didn't remember most of them anymore.

when it was time for the vows, charles broke down again as he thanked his bride for saving a spot for his dad and his godfather, that he didn't think of doing something like that despite how much he wanted them to be there on their wedding there. he thanked her and promised to love her forever. he promised to cherish her and always be there for her, and he promised that he would always be at her beck and call, because she was the greatest gift he'd ever gotten.

y/n cried as well. it surprised jules a little bit. maybe he wasn't expecting her to cry as well. but, it was nice to see. to see that their love for each other was so overwhelming that smiles could not contain it.

she said her vows as well. she told him that she knew how much he missed his father and godfather and she wanted to do something small that would make him feel closer to them. she told him how much she loved him and how much she's going to continue loving him. she promised him to be the first one jumping for every win, and be the first hug he needs when he's disappointed. she promised that she would hold onto his hand as long as he held onto her, and she promised to laugh at every joke he said, regardless of how funny or not funny it was.

almost everyone was in tears. jules was too.

when the priest finally said, "you may kiss your bride," the couple did not waste another second. charles' hands cupped her face, as she held onto his wrists, and they kissed for the first time as a married couple.

jules smiled.

he knew pushing y/n towards charles was a good idea.

he knew he'd made the right decision, even from the sky.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

i genuinely feel like my writing skills have massively deteriorated. im not even fishing. im just saying. i feel like it takes me one or two tries to get a particular driver right. i don't really pay as much attention to the other drivers as i do with lando, and also that i connect with lando a lot personality wise, so its easier for me to write him. anyways, i hope you like this! im sorry it took me so long to write this one! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry

[witherby]

Itsame!! How do you think the batfam would react to taking in a Mouse that was a villain kid? annnddd had somewhat unhinged tendencies from growing up w/ their parents?

thank you el!

--🎆

Hmm. In normal circumstances, I think they'd all react very patiently and just steer you in the direction of making good decisions instead of bad. Damian was raised by a league of killers, and they rolled with that without blinking. You'd have to be the child of someone super fucked up to make them think twice about who you are as a person. Like extremely fucked up.

Like, the worst person they could think of.

The cave was dead silent. Every member of the family stood around a table and looked at the documentation Bruce finished putting together in regards to the child he'd locked in a cell just down the hall with a mixture of dread and concern. Information was sparse, but the DNA tests and mannerisms were more than enough to paint the picture no one was acknowledging.

Tonight's patrol was supposed to be a routine one — investigate some leads, stop some crimes, then come home and go to bed. What Batman and Robin found instead, by pure happenstance, was a partially completed setup for an elaborate death trap that the Joker had been working on, which was then subsequently blown up in a half-hearted effort to kill them so he could escape.

They'd survived, obviously, but it wasn't just Batman and Robin that came back.

"So the clown fucks," Jason finally blurted. "Think he's only got one spawn?"

"Yes, as far as I can tell," Bruce said, rubbing the back of his neck. The migraine he'd been fighting off all night was swiftly worsening. He just wanted to go to bed. "Joker didn't seem to realize he'd left the child behind when he escaped tonight. I think she wasn't supposed to be there."

"Understatement of the century, B," Dick mumbled, thumbing through the papers again. "How did he manage to keep her secret for so long? That kid is, like, seven or eight."

"How did that frivolous hack keep her alive for so long?" Damian asked. "I'm just as impressed as I am concerned."

"We can figure that out later," Tim said, addressing the biggest problem, "what do we do about the Joker's kid?"

Everyone exchanged looks with each other, all silently coming to the same series of conclusions:

1. They couldn't put the child in the System. Her history and yet uncatalogued behaviors could lead to major issues, and the Joker would find and retrieve his kid in a matter of days.

2. They couldn't put the child in Arkham. There wasn't a ward set up to handle children. She was too young to be there, and breakouts from the Asylum were a common occurrence, so she'd inevitably go back to him.

3. They couldn't put the child in Juvenile Detention. As far as they knew, she hadn't committed any crimes, so there was nothing to convict her of in order to have her admitted.

Which meant, for the foreseeable future...

Jason stood up, thumbs gliding down the handles of his guns. Bruce gave him a sharp look and he holstered them with a shrug.

"You know I'm not actually gonna hurt 'er," he sneered, grabbing his helmet to slide it on. "But she don't know that. What's a little intimidation between a captor and captive, huh? I'm just lookin' to get some info about our new roomie is all."

"You can just ask," Bruce said. "That's a child in there, Hood, regardless of whose it is. We can approach this peacefully."

"Oh, fuck off. Your favorite wacko popped out a baby and he's been raising it for years. We can't assume this kid is any more logical than the shit-pile it came from."

Jason marched past Bruce and vanished down the hall where they kept the containment cells. Bruce hurried after him, scowling, and the remaining three followed suit with different levels of curiosity and caution.

"This isn't going to be good..." Dick muttered.

It didn't take long to reach your cell. The door was made of bulletproof glass, and the walls and floor were a smooth beige color, with pressure sensors to keep track of your location, oxygen levels, and heart rate. In one corner of the room was a toilet with a privacy curtain and a sink, and in the other was a plain bed with two pillows and a blanket.

You were lying in the middle of the floor, staring up at the ceiling with vacant eyes a placid smile on your face. You had on white face paint with a bold, red lip and blue triangles above and below your eyes, a bright green button-up shirt with a black bowtie, suspenders, brown pants, and black shoes that clicked every time you bumped your feet together.

Click. Click. Click.

Aside from the rhythmic bumping of your shoes, you were dead silent and unmoving in the cell. You didn't even look up when Jason walked up to the door and leaned against it, whistling for your attention.

"Hey, you," he called. "Name, now."

You didn't answer. Jason banged his fist against the glass, listening to the sharp reverb.

"When I speak, you answer," he barked. "What's your fuckin' name, kid?"

Click. Click. Click. You continued to admire the ceiling, arms splayed out at your sides.

"That's real cute," Jason growled, punching in the code to unlock your cell door. "You gonna pretend like you can't hear me? That's fine, lemme come to you then. I'll make sure you pick up the message loud and clear —"

"Red Hood!" Bruce said, grabbing his arm. Jason shook it off and stormed inside, grabbing a fistful of your shirt and lifting you off the ground. You didn't fight him, body limp and pliant in his grasp, and continued to watch the ceiling.

Click. Click. Click. Your feet bumped against each other even still. Unbothered. Undisturbed.

"Name," Jason demanded, voice warping badly through his voice modulator the angrier he got. You didn't acknowledge him. "I'll start asking you in other languages. Don't think you can get out of answering me that way, either."

"I think that's enough, Red Hood," Dick said, slipping into the room before Bruce could get in and potentially make things violent. He walked around behind you and gently hooked his hands under your armpits, coaxing you out of Jason's grasp. "You're probably scaring her. Let's all just —"

You giggled. It startled Dick badly enough he dropped you, and you crumbled to the floor like a puppet with cut strings. Your giggling grew louder as you carefully straightened out, lying on your back with your arms splayed again, and you smiled up at the ceiling.

"What's there to be afraid of?" You asked, voice sweet and cheery. It was also strangely soft, nothing like the harsh pitch of your progenitor. "The batcifists have captured me. I'm perfectly safe and sound."

No one moved. You hummed, shifting your head side to side with a wistful sigh.

"Batcifists. Get it? Bat-pacifists? Because you don't kill people? Popsy said you guys didn't find most jokes funny, and I guess it's true..."

Click. Click. Click. You knock your feet together again as silence momentarily descends upon the room.

"Does your popsy talk about us a lot?" Tim asked from the doorway.

"You're my bedtime stories," you muttered. Click. Click. Click. "Popsy says his greatest dream is to make you all laugh so hard you choke."

Dick crouched down next to you, frowning. You kept your gaze on the ceiling.

"What about you?" He asked. "What's your dream?"

"I'm Popsy's favorite toy." The smile on your face grew wider, more genuine. Click. Click. Click. "His absolute favorite."

Jason abruptly turned and left the room, stomping down the hallway. Damian looked visibly uncomfortable and followed soundlessly after his brother.

Click. Click. Click.

"Well, we can't call you Toy, can we?" Dick reasoned gently. "Do you have a name? What does your popsy call you?"

You giggled again. It was a gentle, melodic thing, that gradually worsened and grew louder, until you were clutching your stomach and kicking your feet with sheer glee. Your sharp cackling echoed through the room, the remaining bats all watching you with varying levels of horror. In the throes of it, you sounded exactly like him.

Nearly a minute went by before you started settling down again, wiping a stray tear from your face. You chirped your name with obvious pride as you clicked your feet together.

"Punchline!"

[weemietime]

I agree with most of these things however one point I do not see addressed is what you are supposed to do when doctors either are non accessible, or who refuse to provide care for you. I live in a small Canadian city, if you've followed our news you know all of Canada has a severe physician shortage crisis. In my city you can wait over 48 hours in Emerg to be connected with the ONE doctor on duty who then tells you your problems are made up in your mind and kicks you out.

How do I know, you ask? Take a guess. I have CRPS and I require pain management to essentially not kill myself. CRPS is one of the most painful conditions that exists. I once had a doctor, who fully acknowledged I am indeed diagnosed with this condition, laugh in my face when I was having an episode screaming in pain in front of him and he literally didn't even give me a fucking Tylenol before kicking me onto the street.

So I turned to what is probably alternative-medicine light, kratom. Kratom has some pretty significant risks, but the risk of me having no pain management is much greater. Like all self directed "medicinal" treatment you should be aware that there are always risks and you could seriously hurt yourself.

There are some protective things you can do such as having your kratom lab tested and getting regular blood tests. Being Canadian I've had only one blood test but so far I am good for no heavy metal toxicity. I've also never encountered a mold or spore issue because I vet the companies I buy from - many people do get kratom from shit like gas stations or head shops.

Do not do this, because you have no idea where SUPERKRATOMXXL4000 was grown or if it has even heard of a laboratory. People also fuck with extracts which can be harmful as the doses are far, far greater. I do think unfortunately a lot of patients wind up seeking these alternative methods out not because "their doctors tried all kinds of stuff and it didn't work" but also because their doctors 1) do not exist at all or 2) have actively refused to help them in any way.

And I get that you have stated multiple times you don't particularly care what I choose to do with my body, but when I encounter people like me who have severe pain issues and zero medical care and no ability to access it who are dealing with severe unmanaged pain, I will tell them about my experiences with kratom as well as the risks.

(acute liver injury is one of them for people who have a genetic anomaly, as well as heavy metal toxicity from ground contamination in the soul, unregulated growers, toxic mold/spores, and lack of limited data on long term kratom use overall - however, there are very low deaths on record from pure kratom use - the person usually has other shit wrong with them - which you could also have - or has used other drugs like benzos or alcohol).

From a pain management perspective kratom is, I would argue, safer than APAP which has killed millions of people and causes multiple organ failure when taken in the dosages one sees in patients like me, or even just taken normally over a long period of time. APAP causes 50,000 emergency room visits per year in the USA alone. Before kratom I was taking 40 Tylenol per day mixed with codeine.

Fentanyl kills 200 per day. Kratom, as far as we know, has a kill rate so low that it's nearly negligible. There is a lot of fear mongering about this drug out there, but the ideal situation would be that pharmaceutical companies catch on and synthesize it and formulate it so that we know its as safe as it can be (and again, safer than APAP even in its current forms).

And another source says about 90 deaths, compared to again,

When you say you're anti-CAM what does that mean? Like what does CAM mean in that context? I genuinely haven't seen that acronym before and I'm assuming you aren't anti-camming as in like the form of sex work

Complimentary and Alternative Medicine.

I am capable of turning off my inner annoying atheist, I am incapable of turning off my inner annoying quackwatcher.

I have had real life fights with people I genuinely love about this and I do not regret it. I will absolutely not regret shitting all over someone's $500 herbalist certification.

[vmlnrzmp4]

𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳.

cw: hurt/comfort

itoshi sae

after a long day of father-daughter date at the mall full of "papa, i wan' this!" "papa, i wan' that!"—little natsuki got every toy she pointed at. and who was sae to deny his little princess?

you showered your daughter with your kissys as they got back home, her chuckling at the ticklish impact on her chubby face, "ma, look! papa got me all this!"

your eyes widen in horror as you see sae carrying two large bag in his hands that hardly held the tea party kit, barbie dress up kit, pretty pink princess dresses and what not.

"itoshi sae," you said sternly, "what did we talk about spoiling her too much?"

sae simply shrugged, placing the bags down as natsuki takes out the toys, "she asked nicely."

"sae. we agreed on one toy," you looked at natsuki as she busied herself setting the tea party kit on the floor without a care, "one."

sae followed your gaze to where natsuki sat—humming to herself as she sets a tiara on her head, "she looks happy..."

your gaze soften as you look at sae. he was trying. he really was. trying to be a good father, "sae," you cradle his face, "love, you're an amazing papa. but let's teach her boundaries hm?"

he sighs, "yeah. that goes for you too."

"excuse me?" your smile dropped as you put your hands on your hips, "how am i spoiling her?"

he huffs, "all the kisses you gave her the moment we entered the house?"

"i may or may not be wrong," you say, glancing at natsuki who seemed too busy placing barbie dolls on the makeshift chairs as she pours them tea, "you sound a bit jealous of your own daughter there."

"...so what if i am?"

"then i guess ive to spoil you too," you say, planting a quick peck on his lips that made natsuki gasp.

"ma and papa! you both kissy kissy!"

"that's right. me and ma very much kissy kissy."

you laughed at that. god, it was so rare for sae to say cheesy things like that. but when he did, you made sure to never let them out of your heart.

"ma, i wan' kissy! papa's kissy too!' she sets the little plastic cups down as the extends her arms open for her papa to carry.

both of you place multiple kissys on her face.

"god," sae exhales, "we really need to work on the boundaries."

itoshi rin

the rain was pouring for a while now, seeming to die down slowly but not fully—when papa rin and sakura decided to step out of the house wearing colourful raincoats(obviously she wore a colourful one, in contrast to her papa who wore a grey-black one.)

papa rin watches as she goes from puddle to puddle—jumping on them as she lets out little giggles.

"hey no—" rin tired stopping her when she got to a big, deep puddle. but it was too late and—

splash!

she slipped and fell, the mud messing her raincoat as well as her face. her papa hurried to pick her up, consoling her as tears ran down her face. he took of a delicate handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the mud from her face.

"you're ok, you're alright," he carries her in his arms saying that her face is still pretty in an attempt to calm her down.

"still pretty?" she looks at him with the big doe eyes of hers.

"the prettiest," he kisses her forehead, "just like your ma."

"noooo, ma's prettier!" sakura declares, "i'll get more pretty when i grow up!"

rin kisses her forehead again, "let's go home. no more puddles for today," he says softly.

"haiiii~"

sadly, the after math was that sakura stayed in bed, her ma and papa by her side while she laid sick. you caressed her hair, whispering sweet nothings and saying that she'll be fine and her papa held her hand.

when she fell asleep, you placed a mwah on her forehead before turning off the lamp light beside the table. you got up but rin didn't seem to move. he held her hand, looking at her—his expressions nonchalant but the sadness in his eyes lingered.

"it's not your fault," you place a hand on his shoulder, "she's fine. she's strong."

he hums, getting up, planting a kissy on her forehead as he walks out of her room, you following, shutting the door behind. and when you did, he immediately pulled you into his arms, burying his face into your hair as he seeks for comfort.

"don't worry. besides kids are meant to step into puddles and play with mud," you pull away, cradling his face, "you're a wonderful papa."

isagi yoichi

little yuki was starting to get frustrated—the puzzle pieces would just not come together, no matter how much her little hands work on them. she works hours and hours on it. and when they finally did join together, her papa had to pour water on it.

it wasnt his intention to really. it just happened as an accident, "yuki, princess, im sorry—" but it was too late as yuki sobs, running off to her room.

later that night, you find the space beside you empty. worried, you got up from the bed, quietly heading out. you see the kitchen lights on and there he was. your husband trying to solve the puzzle pieces together.

you call his name softly, he looks up at you, telling you that he's going to be fine. he just needs fifteen minutes.

you sit beside him, helping him sort the pieces together, "you're the best papa, you know that?" you assure, "yuki loves you so much."

the next morning, yuki woke up, rubbing her eyes as she walks into the kitchen. you greet your princess with a kissy, settling her down on the chair.

her eyes widen at the puzzle pieces that were once scattered—now together.

"it's your papa," you say, "he worked on it all night, yuki."

yuki immediately turns to her papa, hugging him tightly, "i love you papa!" her papa smiles, wrapping his arms around her, mumbling you a thank you.

michael kaiser

earlier that day, papa michael had gotten into a tinsy argument with his daughter. and as a way to get them to talk to each other, you decided to have a family time at the park. but anne refused to talk to her papa even tho he says he'll make it up to her.

you and michael walked behind as anne skips stones in front of her—kicking them with her foot.

you glance at your husband, seeing the look on his face that broke your heart. you reached for his hands, intertwining your fingers with her, "hey, it's gonna be ok," you assure and as a response, he only squeezes your hand tighter. "mihya, you're not a bad parent,"

he hums, "what if i—"

"you're not failing her," you halt him, not letting him finish that sentence, "anne loves you so so much."

he lets out an exhale, his shoulders relaxing at your reassurance. he brings up your hands, brushing hsi lips against your knuckles.

"ma! ma!" anne cried out, her voice full of panic.

she immediately runs to you, hugging your legs. confused, you look to see a stray dog appearing from behind the tree.

your eyes widen as you pick her up into your arms. but the thing was—you couldn't protect her, not with your fear of stray dogs too. you simply hugged her tighter as you turned around, squeezing her protectively.

michael steps in between, shielding you both from the dog.

"anne, come here," he calls as she looks up at him, "come to papa."

"...papa, 'm scared," she hugs you tighter.

"trust me, princess," he reaches out for her, "it won't do anything to you. not when your papa is here. i won't let it do anything to you. you're safe with me."

gently, he takes her in his arms, crouching down to the dog, as the barks fade away. michael reaches out to pet it—flinching at first—the doggy leans into his touch, "see? completely harmless," he reaches out to take her hand in his as he places it on the top of the doggy's head.

anne smiles, continuing to pat the dog's head while simultaneously clinging onto her papa.

after all, his arms were her safe place.

[shomatoriashi]

01/28/25; 05:41pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when they call you because they miss you ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb

you were settled at your desk, simply typing away on your laptop when you heard your phone go off from beside you. curiosity paints your expression when you look down to see your lover’s name flashing across the screen.

with a wide grin on your face, you answer your phone, “well hello, mr. sylus.”

you take a moment to bask in his rich chuckles, “well hello, little dove. i see that you’ve picked up the phone within a single ring. did you miss me that much?”

letting out a hum in response, you playfully spin around in your office chair, “you could say that. or maybe i was just bored at work.”

you shiver when sylus lets out a soft coo of your name. “my poor kitten, left to her own devices while stuck at work. perhaps i can help with mitigating your boredom?”

“yes! a thousand times yes!” you nearly jump out of your seat in response, since you really could go for a nice and refreshing date with your beloved, “but i am curious as to why you called me so suddenly. i thought the leader of onychinus would have been stuck in a meeting at this hour.”

you listen to his laughter once more, “perhaps i too, was feeling bored at work and wished to… hear the sound of your voice. try not to miss me as much as i miss you, kitten. i’ll pick you up after work and shall see you soon.”

after that single phrase, sylus hangs up the call, leaving you grinning like a fool as you fought back the urge to further twirl around in your seat.

you were in the middle of washing the dishes when you heard the sound of your phone going off in the distance. shutting off the faucet, you dry your hands on a towel and made a dash toward your phone settled on the coffee table, recognizing the name as you picked up the call immediately.

“zayne! hello…” you couldn’t hide your soft giggles, leaning into your phone to hear him better, “is everything alright?”

“of course, dear, everything is fine. i just got out of surgery, and it went well.” zayne trails off, and you swore you could picture him running his hands across his locks of hair. you smile once more and ask, “well, that’s good. is there anything you needed from me? did you forget something at the house that you needed me to bring?”

“no, of course not. everything’s fine, dear.”

you look at the time and bite down on your bottom lip, “you’re an awfully busy man, dr. zayne, and i just wanted to make sure that you didn’t need me to bring something to your office, hence why you called.”

“do i need a reason to hear your voice?”

you shiver upon hearing his admission, feeling the heat settle against your cheeks while allowing your smile to widen even further, “hehe, no… you don’t need a reason to hear my voice. i quite like hearing your voice, too.”

an amused chuckle was heard coming from the other line, “then it’s settled. i can take the rest of the day off, and i’d like to spend it with you, honey. would you like to go see a movie with me and have dinner later on?”

“of course! i-i’ll go ahead and get ready!” you bask in zayne’s laughter, following his silent urge to get ready as he begins his trek back home to you.

with your plans confirmed with zayne, you hang up the phone and prepared for your much needed date with zayne.

you were simply settled within the comfort of your bed, watching a movie on your phone when a sudden call breaks you out of your immersion. seeing your boyfriend’s name, you answer his call with a breathless, “hello?”

you nearly melt upon hearing xavier’s sweet whisper within your ear, “hey, i just wanted to call and check on you.”

“aw, that’s sweet of you.” you cling to your favorite bunbun plush while smiling into the phone. “but aren’t you on a mission right now?”

there was a few beats of silence on the other end, followed by the sound of xavier clearing his throat, “i am on a mission, but it’s been a few days since i’ve last seen you, and i miss hearing your voice.”

you nearly squeal into the plush at how cute xavier sounded, and you could practically see the pout on his face. “hehe, i’ve missed you, too…” feeling playful, you then proceed to ask, “are you pouting right now, xavi?”

you hear another series of coughs on the other end, with xavier spouting off denials before eventually caving in, “okay, maybe i was pouting a little bit.”

you were grinning into the phone while telling him, “how about when you come back home, we spend the day in together and have a movie marathon on the couch? and you can take all the naps you want, too.”

you bask in the sounds of xavier’s gentle laughter, detecting the happiness in his voice when he tells you, “that sounds like the perfect plan, i can’t wait to see you again.”

a few minutes later, you said your goodbyes to your boyfriend, allowing him to get back to work, but not before hearing him say to you, “wait for my return, okay? i’ll be thinking of you always.”

you felt a little sad at the fact that your boyfriend was away promoting his latest exhibit in another country-

but alas, due to your conflicting work schedules, you had to remain back at home while supporting rafayel from the sidelines. as you head back home for the day, a sudden call stops you from entering your car. extracting your phone out of your purse, you smile upon seeing rafayel’s nickname flash across the screen.

“hello hello, my little goober.”

“hey, i am not your goober! i’m a famous artist that you love and adore.” you giggle on the other line, already picturing rafayel’s pouting face and puffed cheeks, his gorgeous eyes filled with a playful indignation at your teasing.

you continue to softly laugh at your beloved, getting into your car while starting the engine, “and you also happen to be a little bit of a spoiled brat as well.”

“yeah, but i’m your spoiled brat.” rafayel admits with an amused chuckle, making you smile in response. “how’s your exhibit doing?”

“ugh, it’s utterly boring without you here, princess. honestly, i should have brought you with me.”

you were about to remind him about how you had to work, only to stop speaking when rafayel continues explaining, “but i guess i’ll just have to make do with calling you, just to hear your voice.”

“aw rafe, you missed my voice?”

the artist lets out a scoff on the other end, “of course i do. i miss everything about you, princess.”

before you could reply, you heard a deep voice on the other line, with rafayel letting out a sigh, “sorry princess, some people are waiting to interview me, and i can’t turn them down. i’ll call you later, before you go to sleep, so wait for me?”

“of course, rafe. i’ll always wait for you.”

you giggle once more upon hearing him blowing you kisses through the phone, “drive safely back home!” he tells you before hanging up the call, leaving you smiling as warmth was felt coursing through your veins.

you had to go back home after spending two weeks at skyhaven with caleb. despite how you wanted to stay with him much longer, you had already used up your vacation days at work and had to return.

currently, you were on your lunch break, simply munching on a sandwich when your phone begins to ring. you put down your food and smile upon seeing caleb’s name across your screen, answering his call within a mere few seconds.

“caleb? hello… how are you doing?”

“terrible.” was his simple answer, yet you could picture the smile in his voice.

“aw, and why are you feeling terrible?”

“because i miss you so much already.”

your heart melts upon hearing his confession, making you sigh as you tell him, “of course. i miss you so much, too. even though we spent a whole two weeks together.”

“exactly. see, that’s why i always knew you were the perfect girl for me. we just… feel so strongly about each other. i don’t like being away from you for even a second.” you giggle a bit at his admission, “i feel… flattered that the colonel could feel so strongly about little ol’ me.”

caleb grumbles a bit at your teasing, and you swore you could picture the light dust of pink settled across his defined cheekbones. “of course, you mean everything to me…” he trails off for a moment before letting out a chuckle, “that’s why, this time i’m going to spend some time at your place. i took a total of three weeks off, just so i can come and see you.”

you frown a bit while clutching your phone tighter against your ear. this was strange, but why did it sound like caleb was getting louder and louder, with a bit of an echo heard on the other line?

“you can’t tell me that you haven’t missed me, too.” you gasp, finally noticing the tall figure that was seen from your periphery. trailing your gaze upwards, you recognized his signature jacket and boyish grin, immediately hanging up the phone before jumping into caleb’s arms.

he laughs, fully embracing you now by wrapping his arms around your frame while giving your cheek an audible kiss. “i’m here, pipsqueak.”

and you couldn’t be happier at seeing your beloved colonel again, ready to spend your days basking in the warmth of his embrace.

end notes: some fluff to destress and keep me awake 😭 my meds have been making me feel sleepier than usual so i’m writing and posting this to stay awake 🥹

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[juniperskye]

Controlled Chaos: Polaroids

Based on the following ask: This is my first time request here and I’m a little nervous😅so I hope I made the idea understandable. I don't know if you've ever seen this trend on TikTok where on the wedding day the bridesmaids give the groom Polaroids of the bride that are like her in lingerie and things like that, and he finally gets all nervous and somewhat smiling and puts them away in his suit after seeing them🥹 You could write something like this with Aaron as he marries the reader and maybe the reader's friends or the BAU girls give him Polaroids of the reader in lingerie, nothing too relevant but something that makes him nervous ☺️ I hope I have explained myself well, if not I am sorry, also take this only if you feel comfortable, if not you have every right to ignore it, I love your work, you are an amazing writer!🩵- I love this idea!!! It’s not a tiktok trend in this fic. I wanted the reader to have her own friends in this (outside of the BAU), This is the type of gown1 gown2 I envisioned and here are some inspo pics for what Aaron received: 1  2  3  4  5  6  for the vows – reader’s are bolded and Aaron’s are italicized

Aaron Hotchner x Wife! Fem Reader

Fluff/ Smut adjacent

Word count: 2510

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap (non-specified), some explicit language, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description, wedding and all wedding things, mention of inappropriate photos (boudoir photos), mention of Hotch’s mom (she’s awesome in this lol), OC’s Claire, Daisy, and Victoria (reader’s friends and bridesmaids) and Matthew who is Victoria’s husband, let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

The idea had come from your closest friend. She had done a boudoir photoshoot and made up an album for her husband on their anniversary. You were about five weeks away from the wedding, having a lunch with the bridesmaids and it had all spiraled so fast.

“Guys look at these photos I had taken!” Victoria pushed her phone in your direction, showing off a particularly racy photo of herself.

“Damn girl you look hot, what are these for?” Claire asked.

“So, Matthew’s birthday was last week, and I wanted to do something special for him. My sister had told me about this boudoir photographer, and I thought it would be nice to put a little album together for him.” Victoria explained.

“Oh my god…what did he say?” You blushed.

“He was practically drooling.” Victoria laughed.

“You should do that for Aaron!” Daisy nudged your arm suggestively.

“What? I mean, I would, but when would I even give it to him?” You questioned.

“Well, you don’t have to make it into an album! You could just get prints made.” Victoria clarified.

“I’m not sure I’d want like 5x7 boudoir photos of me just around…” You contemplated.

“Oh my gosh! What about polaroids? You could do polaroids and give them to him like one at a time!” Claire gushed.

“Imagine if you gave them to him at the wedding!” Daisy laughed.

“Even better, if we gave them to him!” Claire added.

“You guys are geniuses!” Victoria exclaimed. “You should get the photos taken as polaroids, and you could get the digitals too in case you wanted to make an album of them later, but throughout the reception, imagine if we walked up to Aaron and subtly handed him the pictures of you!”

“Well…I don’t know. He’d definitely be flustered.” You thought about it for a moment. “You know what, let’s do it!”

--

That day the girls took you to a lingerie store to pick up some of your wedding night and honeymoon pieces that you would also wear for the photoshoot.

You had found some pieces that you knew would work under your dress and you were feeling pretty good with everything you had gotten for the honeymoon as well. Some teddies and bodysuits as well as some simpler pieces to sleep in, should you need it, and lastly some swimsuits.

Victoria also reached out to the photographer to see if she had availability within the next few weeks and thankfully she did, the week before the wedding.

--

Time had flown by; your wedding day was finally here, and you couldn’t have been more excited about marrying Aaron.

You had woken up early and had breakfast with your bridesmaids and immediate female relatives. You’d all decided you’d get ready together before heading to the wedding venue.

Makeup and hair was done, dresses were steamed, mimosas were sipped, getting ready photos were taken. The time was finally here…in just a few moments, you’d be walking down the aisle to marry the love of your life.

The girls had helped you into your dress and all gushed over how beautiful you were. They’d stuffed their pockets (because dresses with pockets are so much better) with tissues, lipstick, and the polaroids. Excited to see how Aaron would react.

--

Aaron had cried as you made your way to him, proudly shedding tears that were formed of the love he held for you. Once you stepped up beside him you leaned across and wiped a tear from his cheek which he paid back with a kiss to your palm.

The ceremony wasn’t too long, but the two of you had been adamant of writing your own vows, which arguably was the highlight of the entire day.

My life before you had been on autopilot, just running through the motions of the day to day. You have brought this air of light and spontaneity and just the slightest bit of controlled chaos into my world and I am so grateful for you. So, I want to make a few promises to you as we stand here today in front of our loved ones. I promise to love you in every moment, to embrace the chaos, to enjoy the big moments and cherish the small moments. I promise to give you my all, and sweetheart I will offer advice when words are needed and offer my shoulder when they’re not. You have my heart for always. I love you.

Aaron, I believe that we were destined to find one another. Early on in our relationship, I told you that the story of our lives was written in the stars and if our time together has told me anything, its that it is. You and I always find balance with one another, when I have my head in the clouds, you are there to ground me, when you are buried with work, I’m there with the shovel. People say that relationships are fifty/fifty but with us, we always give our best if I can give thirty percent, you don’t hesitate to give seventy percent…like I said, balance. So, my promises to you, when things get dark, I will bring you light, I will do my best to keep my chaos controlled, I will ensure you feel heard when you speak. Aaron I will have your back when someone challenges you, and I will call you out if you’re wrong. Most importantly I will love you with all of me, for always. I love you.

You both cried through your vows, allowing yourselves to feel and embrace the vulnerability of the love you have built and continued to share over the last few years. Your loved ones cheered as you kissed for the first time as husband and wife, the sound all a haze, fogged by the bliss you were feeling.

Aaron and you went off to take some photos before the reception began. Some alone and some with family as well as the wedding party. Your bridesmaids giggling for what’s to come as you finished up with the photographer.

--

The girls had established a plan for how they’d give Aaron the photos throughout the evening. They wanted to do it in the most awkward possible of moments, and while he was away from you if possible…it needed to be done subtly to avoid others seeing the photos. There were seven photos in total, each bridesmaid would give Aaron two throughout the evening and you’d give him the last one…which was the most risqué.

--

Photo #1

Daisy had the first photo, one that wasn’t too revealing, but it was sexy, nonetheless. In it, you were wearing a lace set with your robe hanging behind you as you let it slip off. The photo was taken from behind as you gaze out a window, revealing the high cut of the lace panties.

She had been the most diabolical of your three bridesmaids, opting for the most awkward of times to hand the photos to Aaron. For this first one, Daisy walked with confidence to wear Aaron stood, having a drink with your father. She slid her hand into his, pulling it up and animatedly thanked him.

“You have made her so happy, and I am just so glad she has you.” Daisy released his hand, leaving behind the small polaroid before sending him a wink and sauntering off towards where you stood with your grandmother.

Aaron was confused at first…worrying that Daisy might be coming on to him, but that fear dissipated and was quickly replaced with a nervous chuckle and a burning heat that crept up his neck as he viewed the photo.

His eyes shot over to where you stood, completely unfazed, paying him no mind. He looked back to your father and uncomfortably cleared his throat, sliding the photo into the interior chest pocket of his jacket.

“You alright there Aaron?” Your father had asked.

To which Aaron replied with a curt nod.

--

Photo #2

Victoria had the second photo. She had been a little more forgiving with the times she chose to pass them off to him.

You had just stepped away from your table to greet one of your cousins when she walked over to where Aaron was now seated alone. She hadn’t said a word as she slid the photo under his fingers where they rested on the table.

“What are you-” He was cut off as Victoria walked away without a word.

He had more privacy to really view this one, so he flipped it over and once again instantly became flushed. You were in a lace bodysuit leaning face-down, over the edge of the bed, back arched and bent legs, your feet up and pointed. The way the light was hitting you in the image was breathtaking and Aaron couldn’t help the tightness that formed in his slacks.

--

Photo #3

The third photo was given to Aaron in between speeches. Dave, his best man had just finished his and Claire had slipped him the photo before stepping up to give her speech.

This one had taken Aaron by surprise, not only the timing but the content. You were lying on your stomach, head seemingly propped up on your hands, once again with your feet up…only this time it was taken from behind. Your body was covered in nothing but your veil and the only thing that covered your naked bottom were your heel-clad feet. The angle had been just right to allow your raised feet to align with where you were clearly naked.

Aaron admired the photo for a moment before tucking it into his pocket with the others. Leaning in close to whisper in your ear.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked.

“What are you talking about?” You feigned innocence.

Aaron shook his head and prepared himself for what was to come.

--

Photo #4

This was the first of the more racy photos you’d taken, and Daisy couldn’t wait to give it to Aaron at the worst possible time…like now for instance while he’s chatting with his entire team.

“Aaron!” She called, rushing over to him. “We’re going to do some makeup and hair touchups before you guys dance.”

“Okay, does she need me?” Aaron asked…always the gentleman, putting you first.

“I think she’s good. We’ll be back in a few.” Daisy said nudging his hand with the photo.

She ran off toward you and the other girls to go refresh before your first dance. This time, Aaron blushed before even looking at the photo, completely mortified that it was handed to him in front of a group of profilers. He lifted it as casually as possible, stealing a quick glance before panicking and shoving it in his pocket.

You were leaning back, resting your weight on your forearms, your knees bent just barely out of frame. You head was tossed back…in a way Aaron was all too familiar with. Your body was adorned in white lace that left nothing to the imagination, he was sure that even in the moment he glanced, he could see every detail of your breasts.

“Woah there bossman…what’s got you all flustered?” Derek teased.

“Nothing. I’m good, never better.” Aaron answered all too quickly.

“Was that a photo you glanced at…” Emily inquired.

“No.” Aaron couldn’t help the blush that continued to spread…now burning his ears.

“Aaron, I know you’re not lying to a group of profilers. What is it?” Dave pressed.

“I can’t show you. All I am going to say is that the bridesmaids have handed me some photos throughout the evening.” Aaron scratched his neck sheepishly.

“Ohhh…they’re “photos” of Mrs. Hotchner.” JJ had put it together, now giggling with Emily and Penelope.

--

Photo #5

 This photo, while not the most intimate of them, was given to him in the most shocking of ways. You had just finished your father-daughter dance and Aaron was headed to the dance floor with his mother to share a quick dance before everyone was invited to dance.

Victoria had asked you if you’d be okay with recruiting another helper and you’d agreed. So, she explained the situation to your mother-in-law, and she happily agreed to pass along the photo. She kept it faced down to protect your modesty but handed it off to Aaron with a pat to his chest as their dance ended.

And so, he stood in the middle of the dance floor looking at a photo of you lying on your back, the photo focused on your left hand gripping the white sheets you were lying on, your wedding ring gracing your ring finger. It again was a sight that was all too familiar…and this night was starting to feel like he’d never get you alone.

--

Photo #6

Claire approached Aaron with the second to last photo as you were about to cut the cake. She grabbed his hand and set it on his palm, offered a smile and walked away.

At this point the embarrassment of it all was gone…Aaron was starting to feel impatient, wanting nothing more than to take you to your suite and have his way with you. He knew that there’d be plenty of time for that and shook away the thought. Glancing at this photo, and then up at you as you made your way to him. He was in awe of you and how beautiful you were.

In this photo you were knelt on a bed, the straps of the rose-colored lace bra had slipped off your shoulders and the high cut lace panties showed off the curves of your ass beautifully. Your hair hung to the side with the way your head was tilted.

As Aaron tucked this photo away with the others, he caught your gaze. You shared a quick smile before you walked over to him and continued on with the cake cutting.

--

Photo #7

This photo was different from the others, in more ways than one.

The night had been coming to a close, you had said your thank yous and goodbyes to your friends and family. Your wedding party had loaded all the wedding gifts into the car and you guys were just about ready to make your big exit.

As everyone gathered outside and prepared their sparklers you and Aaron shared a private moment. Stealing kisses waiting for your cue, and just as it was given, you slipped Aaron the final photo. He looked at it, completely dumbfounded, before you took his hand and pulled him along with you toward the waiting car.

In this photo you were stood completely bare in front of a mirror. Your arms were up above your head, having clearly mussed your hair.

--

As you slid into the backseat of the town car, Aaron practically pounced on you, kissing you hungrily. His hands slid down your back along the buttons of your dress.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me tonight?" He asked, nipping at your neck.

“Controlled chaos, honey.”

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust

[postmoe]

So, I'm getting around to doing Amphoreus and... we're at the bath house... and there is a special bath house for heroes.... can you imagine being taken in there without anyone else knowing just to be banged senselessly?

With Mydei and Phainon x Reader

girl we on the same wave length. I just added a bit to something i had going but didn't like it enough for the story i wanted lol.

non-con, helplessness, a bit of choking, bathhouse, ambrosia, master/servant dynamicish

Translations off google so (I went the Ancient Greek route)... Dominus - Master. He philtatē - dearest love. (feminine).

.

Amphoreus is full of many heroes, and though they are all strong and worthy of their titles, there are some that put true unease in others.

Like Mydei. Even with Phainon right next to him, trying to lighten the mood in the room, people still fear his sharp looks and dominating muscles. Everyone has seen what these two heroes can do, and no one wants to be on the wrong side of them.

Not to mention how protective they are of each other. Back and forth arguments seem like nothing when their anger is truly displayed, especially at people who speak ill of their partner.

And then there's you, their precious, priceless darling. A warning isn't good enough if you were to be picked on, broken bones, lost jobs, people are still debating whether or not the person who moved lands is dead or still alive.

So, when you're dragged from your station, or told to meet them somewhere, everyone drops everything to make sure you comply. Which is why, even if people did see you be hauled into the heroes bathhouse, you know calling for help would do nothing good.

That's why you stand there, sweat soaking through your white road, nipples poking into wet, sheer fabric, face stoic and hands holding a large jug of wine like it were any other client. They seem entertained enough by each other, hopefully today they will just leave you alone.

However, as Mydei pulls away from the heated kiss, grinning drunkenly your way and leaning his head against the edge of the in ground bath, you know there is no such luck. "He philtatē, come drink ambrosia with us," he practically moans, Phainon grinding his naked body in his lap, kissing and lapping up the sweat of his lovers neck.

You make a point to keep your eyes facing forward, not wanting to give them the thought that you're indulging in their actions, "No, thank you, dominus. I am working right now." That's not to say you would if you weren't on shift, but, it's as good an excuse as any other.

Phainon finally frees his mouth from the other's body, sculling the rest of his drink, red ambrosia trickling over his lips, down the cleft of his neck, and over the pecs of his chest before mixing with the bath water and disappearing. His eyes are hooded, cheeks dusted red with the effects of alcohol and lust, "Why the sudden harsh treatment, He philtatē, you were never this reserved when we first met."

With a bow of your head, avoiding his gaze, you say, "Kindess is part of the job. I welcomed you in, my job is done."

"Boo~" Phainon whines, rolling off of Mydei and sitting next to him in the water. "You're not like this after work or with your colleagues," he mutters, now holding out his empty cup, "Refill, please!"

You're not even going to ask how he knows what you're like when they're not around, already having the sneaking suspicion they've been following you and paying someone to tail you when they're gone. You crouch down to aim the jug into the goblet, only for Mydei to snatch the wine from your hands which makes you cry out a, "Hey!"

Within moments, you're being dragged into the water by a laughing Phainon. You thrash and splash the water as you're manhandled, thick fingers pulling your clinging robe over your head, leaving you in thin panties and the gold chains around your torso to help support your breasts. You're held tightly against his chest, coddled like a sweet pet until you stop moving so violently. Once you calm down enough, Mydei hands a cup to Phainon, who then promptly presses the rim to your tightly sealed lips, "Ambrosia~ Ambrosia for He philtatē~"

His other hand is roughly grabbing your jaw, the ache forcing your mouth to part enough for the liquid to slip through. You grunt, swallowing the sweet drink, a lot of it falling down your front, until the cup is empty. His hand is swaying in front of your face, the motion annoying you so you backhand the goblet, it flying and dunking in the water. He's so out of it that it takes him a minute to realise what you've done, the man laughing and messily petting your head in a playful manner.

Mydei exhales, sinking further into the bath to relax his muscles, "The whole trip he wouldn't shut up about you. 'When can we see (Y/n) again?' 'How much longer until we leave for (Y/n)?' 'Do you think if I send a letter, it'll reach her before we get back?' Couldn't even focus on fighting."

Phainon cheekily pinches your cheek, directing your attention back to him, "Funny he says that. Just whose name do you think he was calling every night we fucked?" You grab at his wrists once they start to slip to your cunt, fingers brushing your clit while your strength did nothing to hold him back. He didn't even acknowledge it, choosing instead to ask, "We have those new heroes, too. Should we introduce them to our private hole?" A wince escapes you as he slips a finger in, your pussy clenching from the intrusion. He swirls his digit around before adding another, "And what of Anaxa? Where is he?"

"Anaxa is still busy, he won't be back for another month," Mydei steps from the tiled ledge and stands in front of you, his large hands stroking over your shoulders, cupping your breasts in his palms and grazing the nipples with his thumbs. His eyes follow every move with a predatory gaze, "They certainly have proved their worth..."

You zone out as they talk about you like some object. Gritting your teeth, frustrated tears mix with the sweat on your face as you silently cry. What sort of a God or Titan or Deity would allow something such as this to happen to one of their subjects? It just proves how lost your soul really is from everyone else's. Everyone was right, you were abandoned by the titans the moment you were conceived.

Mydei pushes himself against your front, sandwiching you between him and Phainon so he can easily kiss your tears away, "Now look what you've done, you made her cry."

Phainon coos against your hair, his fingers hooking inside you to get a jerking reacting out of you, your hips trapped between the two, "It's okay, He philtatē, we won't share you if you don't want to. It actually makes me happy to see your heart is ours alone."

That's absolutely not true.

"Just be good for us tonight or else we might have to get them to 'help' hold you down," Mydei chuckles drunkenly as if his joke was actually something worth laughing at.

It pissed you off how he could just say something like that and get away with it. You pushed a sturdy hand against his chest, halting him from your boldness. (E/c) eyes look to the door, longing for anyone to enter and stop this madness. Your voice is quiet, moisture inside your mouth gone from the alcohol, bath heat and sexual actions of these men, "One day... One day someone will stop you."

The amused rumble from Phainon's chest made your heart sink. Then, when Mydei's fierce eyes sharped as his grin showed too many teeth to bring an intense foreboding to flood your veins, you shrank back into Phainon as he suddenly seemed to be the lesser of two evils. Mydei scoffed and gripped the base of your neck, your chin tilted up on the curve of his thumb and index as he held you just hard enough to make you wheeze and meet his eyes, "That day won't be a day you're alive."

When he finally let go, the world around you went white and your head couldn't tell which way gravity was holding you. Thankfully, you had your two heroes to keep you safe.

[bokutoko]

kuroo's pretty sure he’s about to lose his job.

but he can’t bring himself to care.

just like clockwork at 5:30 PM, he walked up to your best friend’s apartment with a single flower—your favorite, not just the typical ‘apology roses’ he picked out in the past—along with his work phone. while you never told him where you went, he knew you ended up here, far across town from him.

he stood face-to-face with the cheap mahogany of the door, debating if he should knock. how would you react? would you even answer?

nevertheless, he left his things in a little bag, turning off his work phone that already had four missed calls from coworkers. it wasn’t much, but it was proof. it was evidence that he was trying, trying to show you he could do it.

he could separate work and his life—for you.

the heels of his shoes clicked on the hardwood floor of the hallway as he walked back to the elevator, back to his high-rise that had never felt so dark and empty as it had since you left.

the late-night autumn air was cold, and kuroo saw his breath as he walked, the brisk chill cutting through his coat. but he’ll freeze if it means he could prove to you he could change—that he could be the man you deserved.

and that was what he did, every morning and evening.

as days passed, kuroo brought more upon his visits: your favorite sweets when he dropped his phone off, a book that he remembered was on your TBR, a little note saying he hoped you were well and drinking enough water. you always were bad about that.

one morning, he left your favorite coffee since he knew you had an important presentation that had been marked in your shared calendar in the kitchen. he gave the door a soft knock—not because he wanted you to see him (even though he definitely did) but because he knew you didn’t like your coffee to get cold—and he quickly walked off.

one morning, he came rounding the corner at 8:30 AM on the dot to pick up his work phone, another flower in-hand, when he saw you standing at the front door, and he swore he could’ve fallen to his knees at the sight of you.

you were wearing comfier clothes—must be your day off—and he opened his mouth to say something, anything.

“hi,” is all his voice uttered. is that all you’re gonna say to the love of your life, who you haven’t seen in weeks?? good job, you fu—

“what’re you doing, tetsu?” you softly asked, skepticism lining your gaze as you gave his work suit a once over. his tie is slightly lopsided.

his brain short circuited at the sound of your voice, a balm to his soul. “what do you mean?” he prompted, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“all of this,“ you motioned around you and to him standing before you, “what are you doing?”

kuroo’s eyes followed her, glancing at his hands, which held another one of your favorite flowers, the little bag that was now conveniently missing the chocolates he left for you yesterday, his turned-off work phone that probably had dozens of missed calls—not that he cared about that anyway.

you were here; he wasn’t about to ruin his chance to talk to you.

“you know what i’m trying to prove here, angel,” he reasoned, taking a hesitant step forward, “and i’ll do this for as long as it takes—”

“for what?”

“for you to come home,” he said, his eyes zeroing in on your finger, the beautiful engagement ring he gave you months ago still sparkling, even in the shitty apartment hallway lighting.

she still wore it, after all this time.

he had to remind himself to breathe, and he added a soft, “angel, please come home soon.”

he knew she can see right through him, she can see how this man has stripped himself bare before her, all the way to the marrow of his bones. all his cards were on the table. no games, no bullshit.

he knew it wouldn’t be that day, the next, or maybe even in another long week before you’d come home, but he hoped that one day, you’d trust him to give him your heart once more.

he won’t lose you.

PART ONE HERE

a/n: TADAAA part two! i lowk was not expecting so many people to like angsty kuroo but here we are

*HUGE thank you to the anon for the help with an idea; you’re wonderful, and i hope your pillow is cold on both sides tonight

masterlist | navigation

please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2025.

[eggtrolls]

This is just not true.

On 12 September 2005, an unregistered editor added that Tina Blacker was born to a Jewish family in New York City (see highlighted blue text below). No references given. Note the year (not 2015, 2005) - 2005 is part of the Wild West era of Wikipedia editing when people could and would just add whatever they wanted and very often no one would notice for years. Small editor base, still very Web 1.0.

On 15 March 2022, editor Nohomersryans added the following citation (highlighted in blue). It took almost 17 years but we have a citation!

We’re in a very different period of Wikipedia editing between 2005 and 2022. Automated tools, scripts, templates, bots to make rote edits, high vigilance especially on popular pages — we’ve arrived. And this is a very famous person so it has a lot of eyes on it. So, unsurprisingly, someone checks the added reference and sees that is doesn’t actually confirm what’s claimed. This is a particularly neat trick that vandals will do, but also just people who are kinda clueless. Many people will take the existence of a reference as confirmation without stopping to see what that reference actually says. Luckily this is not always the case. On 2 June 2022, editor HanginOn removes the claim because it is not supported by the inline citation. See the edit summary that also claims that the edits were done by a “persistent antisemitic witch hunter”. Can’t comment on that.

And this version, which has no reference to Tina Louise’s Jewishness, sticks around until May 2024. For those of you keeping up at home, the 10/7 attacks happen in the middle of this period. If there was ever going to be a time when Tina Louise’s article is going to be vandalized because she’s Jewish, this is it. And it just doesn’t happen. There aren’t even any defamatory edits or vandalism happening on her page around 10/7. All of the below are minor tweaks about her acting career.

Finally between 22 and 23 May 2024 (possibly in response to op whose post was from 20 May 2024), we get some movement on the question of Tina Louise being Jewish.

To recap these edits: very new editor Onomatopée adds that she’s Jewish (cool!) but puts it in the first sentence of the article which is against the MOS (Manual of Style) guidelines on how to discussed ethnicity, race, sexuality, etc. Then slightly more experienced editor RJ4 moves it into the body of the article under the ‘Early life’ section, but does kind of a messy job (“Jewish Enthnicity”), and so finally administrator Jayjg cleans up the formatting a little bit. You can see the changes in the little triptych below.

And that’s the format it’s been in ever since. Last edit was 29 December 2024 and Tina Louise is still Jewish. That being said, I will be looking for additional sources to see if I can expand on this part of her life and make sure it is never erased again in the future. Thank you for bringing this to our attention.

However. I am annoyed by the claim (and the 30+ minutes I’ve spent looking into it) that “before 10/7, there were at least 3 to 5 references to her Jewishness on Wikipedia” - no there were not! Go through the edit history! There was one (1) statement that was unreferenced for almost 20 years and then one (1) insufficient reference was added. There are plenty of issues of antisemitism and ugly, hate-fuelled editing on Wikipedia that need to be removed and fixed without making up one. An actual problem, like the guy who went around saying the religion of Yemeni Jews is Islam, which I personally fixed, comes to mind. If anyone is interested in working on issues like this, WikiProject Judaism (which I’m semi-active in) has a backlog of articles to create, review, and edit as long as your arm. Lmk if you want to work together on something.

Fin.

Another Jew on here commented that people were going onto Wikipedia and removing references to certain people's Jewishness, and I just saw for myself that this is true. As a Jew and a fan of old movies and history, I was looking up a list of Jewish actors on Wikipedia. I saw Tina Louise (you know, from Gilligan's Island) pop up. So I popped over to her actual page on Wikipedia. And there were zero references to her being Jewish. So I hopped on over to the Wayback Machine (bless you, Internet Archive) and put in the URL for her Wikipedia page. And wouldn't ya know it: before 10/7, there were at least 3 to 5 references to her Jewishness at any given time on her Wikipedia page. Wtf is happening.

[rorysburrow]

Broken Lamps

Joe Burrow X Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angsty just a tad

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The late afternoon sun cast long, golden streaks across the hardwood floor as you stepped inside, balancing a grocery bag in one arm and your work bag in the other. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the otherwise silent house. Normally, Ava’s laughter or the distant murmur of the TV would greet you, but today there was an unusual stillness that made you pause.

“Hello?” you called, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter.

A muffled sob broke the silence, followed by the low rumble of Joe’s voice, steady but strained. Your heart sank as you moved toward the living room, where the sounds were coming from.

There, sitting on the couch, was Ava, her tiny frame trembling as she hugged her knees to her chest. Her face was red and tear-streaked, and her favorite stuffed bunny dangled from one hand. Joe was crouched in front of her, his elbows resting on his knees as he tried to meet her eyes.

“Ava, sweetie,” he said softly, though his voice carried an undercurrent of frustration. “I’m not mad at you. But you have to tell me what happened. I can’t help if I don’t know.”

She shook her head vigorously, burying her face deeper into her knees. “No! You’re mad! You yelled at me!” she cried, her voice muffled.

Joe let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not yelling now, am I? Come on, Ava, talk to Daddy.” His voice softened on the word “Daddy,” but it was clear he was at the end of his patience.

You stepped into the room, both their heads turning toward you. Ava’s sobs quieted slightly at the sight of you, and she scrambled off the couch, running straight into your arms.

“Mommy/Daddy!” she wailed, clinging to you as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “Daddy’s mad at me!���

Joe stood, exhaling sharply. “I’m not mad,” he said, his tone defensive. “I just… she knocked over the lamp in my office, okay? It’s broken. I told her not to play in there, and she did it anyway.”

You glanced at Joe, his tense posture and furrowed brow telling you how much he was trying to keep his frustration in check. Then you looked down at Ava, her small hands clutching your shirt as if letting go would send her adrift.

“Ava,” you said gently, crouching to her level. “Is that true? Were you playing in Daddy’s office?”

She sniffled, nodding reluctantly. “I was looking for paper,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I wanted to draw a picture for Daddy. But the lamp fell… and it broke… and then he yelled.” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she buried her face in your shoulder.

Joe’s shoulders sagged, the tension bleeding out of him as her words sank in. He rubbed a hand over his face, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to scare you, Ava,” he said softly. “But you know you’re not supposed to go in there. It’s not safe for you to play around all that stuff.”

Ava peeked out from the safety of your embrace, her bottom lip trembling. “I just wanted to make you happy,” she said, holding up the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. “I was going to draw you with your football. But then the lamp fell and… and…” She dissolved into hiccupping sobs.

You glanced at Joe, who now looked thoroughly defeated. He crouched down again, his large hands resting on his knees as he met Ava’s tearful gaze.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice soft and steady. “I’m sorry I scared you, okay? I shouldn’t have yelled. .” He reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “But next time, can you ask me before you go in my office? We can find paper together. Deal?”

Ava hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Deal,” she whispered, her small voice cracking.

Joe smiled faintly, opening his arms. “Come here, kiddo.”

Ava hesitated for a moment before launching herself into his arms, clutching him tightly. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s okay. Accidents happen. We’ll clean it up together, okay?”

She nodded against him, her small body relaxing as his arms wrapped securely around her. You watched them, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite the lingering tension.

Family wasn’t perfect, you thought, but moments like this—when love overcame frustration, when apologies mended rifts—proved it was worth every challenge. And as you stood there, the three of you together, the house finally felt like home again.

As Joe rose, Ava still clinging to him, he looked over at you with a sheepish smile. “Sorry you had to walk into the middle of that,” he said, his tone light but apologetic. “Parenting… not as smooth as I imagined it would be.”

You chuckled softly, crossing the room to place a reassuring hand on his arm. “Nobody said it would be easy, Joe. But you handled it well. She knows you love her, and that’s what matters.”

Ava, her tears now dried, looked up at Joe with wide eyes. “Daddy, can I still draw you the picture?” she asked hesitantly, her fingers twisting the hem of his shirt.

Joe’s face softened, and he nodded. “Of course, you can. Let’s go grab some paper from the kitchen, and you can draw it while I start cleaning up the office. Deal?”

“Deal!” Ava said, her earlier sadness replaced by a tentative smile.

The three of you moved into the kitchen, where Ava set to work at the table with her crayons and paper. Joe grabbed a broom and a dustpan, pausing for a moment to place a hand on your shoulder as he passed by. “Thanks for being the calm one,” he said, his voice warm with gratitude.

“Anytime,” you replied with a smile.

As Joe disappeared down the hallway, you watched Ava scribbling happily, her tongue poking out in concentration. The house, which had felt so tense just moments ago, was now filled with a sense of peace and togetherness. It was a reminder that even in the hardest moments, love and patience could rebuild what felt broken.

When Joe returned, the office cleaned up, Ava proudly held up her drawing. “Look, Daddy! It’s you and me playing football!”

Joe crouched down to take the picture, studying it with a broad smile. “This is amazing, Ava. I’m going to hang it up in my office, okay? Right where the lamp used to be.”

Ava beamed, her earlier tears long forgotten. “Really? You’ll put it in your office?”

“Absolutely,” Joe said, pulling her into another hug. “It’s better than any lamp.”

You stood back, watching the scene unfold with a full heart. No, family wasn’t perfect—but moments like this were perfect enough.