#you look back and youre like wow. im so fucking glad we can do better than this dogshit 😩

[jackass-jones]

Really into the episode of Ouran where this girl confesses her love to Mori but he doesn’t feel the same because he’s into Honey and the girl’s reaction is just like YIPPEE I LOVE YAOI THATS SO COOL FOR YOU YAY 🥰

[cheolieji]

request: Seventeen's reaction to seeing their SO's boobs for the first time

° don't be shy to request

im doing these by units

|| hhu || vcu || pfu ||

im sorry this took me a while to post i didn't know what to write 😨

i made these literally 5 seconds after i woke up

Jun: last night was boiling hot, so you slept without a top on. Jun shook you gently, trying to wake you, "baby, wake up. i made breakfast. " he pulled your blanket down a little bit when he suddenly realised you were shirtless. flustered, he tried putting the blanket back on you, but you were already awake, "Junnie? — " "Uhhh, yeah- what?" "What's wrong?" "Nothing! why would anything be wrong, haha? " You were a little confused until you remembered you're not wearing anything "Oh sorry haha i was hot last night. " "it's okay. Don't be sorry, uhh, come out after you put some clothes on. " he left the room trying to avoid eye contact ( he would get so flustered and blush like crazy. He's so in love with you )

Soonyoung: you were dancing in the living room while he was watching and giggling from the sofa in front of you. it was normal dancing at first, then the vibe of the song changed. You decided to do some sexy dancing for him, taking your shirt off as a part of the dance move. He would be a little shocked at first, eyes widen and then settling into the mood. "Yeah, baby, come here, let me see you better," moving towards him, you straddle his lap. "Like, what you see, babe?" "fuck yeah, we should do this more often, can i touch you?" ( AND WE'RE DONE )

Minghao: Meditating is something that Minghao usually does, and it's a normal thing around the house (his house), but you're bored, and he's been going at it for a while now, you went into his room to bother him but he has his eyes closed and his legs in a half lotus pose. you made a lot of noise walking into his room, so he definitely noticed your presence, but he's not reacting at all "hao" Silence... "hao" again... "minghaoo," he opened his eyes, giving you a 'what do you want' look. you just smiled before flashing him. He immediately stopped in his track. "Whoaa, you could've just talked, and i would've responded, but i mean, this works too." "sooo? come here tf and stop meditating. I'm bored"

Chan:drinking with Chan after the plan you guys made was ruined from the heavy rain outside. "It was such a good plan too. We would've had so much fun." "i know, baby, we can go another day." "Yeah, ugh chan, I'm done drinking. i think im gonna go take a shower. " "Without me? " he said as a joke. "What?" you said with a confused smile. "Nothing" — "no wait that was funny. Come here, we're dating anyway, " getting up from his seat and walking towards you. you take off your clothes, revealing your stunning figure and well-rounded boobs "oh wow, well, im glad i asked, but i think we need to do something else first before we shower, huh" he says as he picks you up

[lixie-phoria]

[7.0 oops] BETTER THAN REVENGE !

◂ previous | masterlist | next ▸

an : i wrote this scene 4 times and im still not happy w how it's turned out so please bare w me :')

everything is a blur. the flashing lights are blinding. your head pounds as the walls vibrate with the bass. redness pools in your eyes as your surroundings blink at you.

you can't remember a time when you've been this drunk. you don't think you've ever been this drunk before. but you've never needed it this much either.

yeonjun is across the room from you. even in your inebriated state you can recognize the lush black of his hair, the lean of his figure and his laughter that cuts through the noise of everything else around you.

and your blood boils. he looks so fucking happy you have half a mind to stride across the room and plant your fist on his infuriatingly gorgeous face.

but jeongin has a firm grip around your waist, holding you in place.

"patience, yn, please."

his breath is warm against your skin as he leans down to whisper into your ear, and you shiver as his fingers accidentally brush against your skin that peeks out from the hem of your top. his long fingers.

"we spoke about this. you have a plan and we're going to follow that." he reminds you, gently tugging you away from the entrance of the living room and deeper into the crowd. it's almost like you're in a club, the music vibrating through the air and lights flashing. jackson wang sure did know how to throw a party.

you hum, stopping close to where yeonjun was but far away enough that it doesn't seem too obvious.

"are you ready?"

technically, jeongin should be asking you that because if anything, this would end badly for you. not him. but he nods nonetheless, gently turning you away from him and pulling you flush into his figure, back facing him.

you've been to a fair share of parties. yeonjun always loved them. and slowly, you grew to love them too. you could get lost in the frequency of the bass and those few hours where anybody could be anyone. no judgement. and that's exactly what you do now.

you try to ignore the fact that you're grinding on another boy while yeonjun is in the same room as you. you lean into jeongin, relishing in the way his face dips into the crook of your neck and his fingers grip tighter at your waist.

his body heat lights your skin on fire, and you arch your neck slightly, your hair grazing his shoulder. you're so glad you had all those drinks because if you had been sober you would have fled out right about now.

"tell me if you're uncomfortable." he whispers, his breath tickling your skin and chest vibrating against your back. combined with the muddled haze of your mind, it's so overwhelming. you love it.

"Okay," you agree, turning around, hands immediately wrapping around his neck and sliding down to his shoulders.

oh wow. he was broad. you can feel hard muscles rippling under the thin fabric as he leans back slightly to look at you better.

his skin is smooth, and you can just see the small dip of his dimple. for the first time you notice the specks of light brown in his eyes and the way his tongue darts out to wet the plush pink of his lips.

he's so pretty it hurts. what you wouldn't do to have eye lashes like those.

now that you're facing him, the scent of his perfume has gotten a lot stronger, and it doesn't help your dizziness. it's a mix of vanilla and pepper, and you have to stop yourself from leaning into him.

it feels good. you've been cooped up in your room for way too long, sobbing into your pillow most of the time. sorrow has permanently resided itself in your heart, but right now, you can almost forget about it. you feel alright.

you see jeongin's mouth twitch, opening to say something to you, and you watch in a trance as it immediately shuts too.

"what's wrong?"

he doesn't get the chance to reply. one minute you're in jeongin's arms and the next minute someone is tearing you away from him, yanking you back by the shoulder.

"what the fuck are you doing?"

that voice. that goddamn voice jars you into reality as you stumble behind the familiar figure that is now pulling your date to the party closer by the collar.

fuck. yeonjun had found you. and he was livid.

taglist - @thisisnotjacinta @jiisungllvr @hanjsquokka @abbiestearsricochet @adestayskz @thisrandombitch @adr1an4 @alnex05 @cheesemonky @endlessheadache @tiapatito202278ok @queen-in-the-shadows @heeee24 @chanceonceli @amesification @conwunder @weareapackofstrays @taejun-sunlix @lofasofabread @untilthesunrise @jinnie-ret @darlingz99 @kibs-and-bits @143lix @simp4myself @thisrandomgoofy15 @vixensss @luvkpopp @skz-streamer @luvenus702 @venusmoonxnight @vampcharxter @miryofshampoo @minhaurloml @a-l-i-y-a @rockstrhanji @mxnhoeuwu the-swageyama-tobiyolo @euphoric-univers @reallyspaghetti @lily-loves-kpop @ivyannemarie @minnies-babie @raeinydays @skzoo010138 @teenyfinds @thatonedemigodfromseoul @chickenscoups @pinkishyng @kpopmenace143 @hyunverse (unable to tag bold users. please check your settings) taglist open! send an ask or reply to the masterlist to be added !

©lixie-phoria, 2023

[min-mrv]

GIGGLY BUGS (pt3)

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.4

switches! dae-ho, in-ho, jung-bae, gi-hun

(A/N): hii, sorry if i was absent for quite a long time. i would recommend yall to read pt.1 cuz it will kinda like make more sense then. uhm. anyway, i've bought a new book and that's kinda my new hyperfixation..(the name's crime and punishment ehe!! ><) yhh fuck me third fic i wrote, life is hard cant do this no more no joke sobbs. yaaa hope you enjoyyy!! i wish my wiriting was as good as how i decorate my posts..but im glad how this turned out!! ehe so happi :3

feedback helps/srs.

this was it.

number 388 was trapped.

...and revenge was in sight!!

In-ho chose to vent his embarrassment on Dae-ho, taking the teasing a bit too far, even though it was Jung-bae's plan. Poor guy was fully aware he was destined to be the next target.

"wait wait wait. why..why me??" Dae-Ho felt like a child who was unfairly punished for something absurd. he knew in the look of in-ho's eyes that this man will wreck him out any moment.

"wait, w-we can talk about this! right jung-bae? you're on my side right??"

jung-bae noticed dae-ho's hopeful eyes..ohh he will be in alot of trouble.

"dohon't plahay the innocent now.."

meanwhile in-ho, his plan was hit successfully again (yh no shit). he still could feel the touch in his neck thought, still a little giggling in his words and the blush on his cheeks still continued.

"there is no reason to be afraid..it's just a payback. that's all."

the frontman knew what kind of innocent guy dae-ho was. he was probably driving him all into the flashbacks of the tickle fights he had with his sisters.. being the only boy among siblings isn't excatly a good thing.

jung-bae was apologizing in his mind several times, feeling bad each second it takes. why aint invisibility a thing?? it would help him and the next victim alot right now..

"things are about to start giggly..you ready, hm?"....

suddenly, in-ho experienced a sense of deja-vu. He had indeed used these teases before, back when he and his younger brother jun-ho still lived together. They used to play these games frequently. Although deja-vu isn't typically a great feeling for him, this time he found a bit of comfort and warmth in this particular moment.

number 388 was clearly overwhelmed. he was sweating and panicking over seemingly childish matters..why did he react so dramatic?

"...no, wahHIHit..!" his voice cracked. thinking about tickling aint making anything better, just the opposite! the frontman found himself unable to suppress a slight laugh.

"wahat are you giggling for?? i haven't even touched you yet!"

dae-ho lost it.

"jung-bae you traitor. you could tell me this today and we could do it tomorrow!! now you are literally making me down infront of everyone else. im an adu-!"

He was interrupted in his thoughts as In-ho's hands came towards him slowly..wiggling his fingers?

"hehehell nahaha!!" dae-ho tried to close his sides with his hands, shaking his head multiple times.

"hey, jung-bae! dont just stay there. we made a decision!" a little silence contuined "i wish we could record this right now.."

"plehehease, lehehets just drohohop ihihit!!"

"you had your fun, now it's my turn."

in-ho's hands landed on dae-ho's sides, squeezing them and poking them from this side to side. number 388 tried to squirm away from the frontmans fingers but failed as it followed him. he let a giggle slip and after, a burst of his real laughter came out. it didnt sounded like his normal laughter, it was a little bit more lighter than usual. "eeeehehehe!! ohohokay wait wait WAHIHIHIT! ahahaha! nohohot you toohoho!" jung-bae joined in, just poking his dear friend slightly who was being tickled by 2 people now..oh the feeling of guilt pressed him down.

"im sorry.."

dae-ho tried to cover his face but poor guy forgot what his biggest secret was. he hiccups when hes getting tickled and one came out right away.

".....wow, did we just unlock a new method of laughter?."

dae-ho was as confused as him, squealing and kicking his legs as he made more and more inhuman sounds. his giggles became in a quite mess, he was too distracted by his ticklish sensation to realize how embarrassing his position was right now. a slight of a blush came out on his cheeks.

"want your taste of your own medicine now?"

jung-bae looked at in-ho with a little confusion.

"lehehets nohohoHOHOT!!"

"what if i..tickle you here?" he squeezed on dae-ho's hips. number 388 jolted. "and here?" another squeeze, another noise. "...and heree?~" in-ho founded this a little enjoyable.

"eep-! doHohont!! im sohohorry!! plEHEHASE *hic* hahave mercihihi!"

jung-bae stopped the poking now, leaving them both have their fun..or something.

this is going to take a while to resolve. dae-ho was getting tickled into pieces, jung-bae becoming an over-thinker and in-ho..? well as you can see, that man had his fun, thinking if he should make this "tickling" into one of his games.

but suddenly, dae-ho had an idea!

he tried to look out for gi-hun..where could he just be??

"don't you dare to call for number 456. i know exactly what you're thinking about."

"whaAhaha?! hohow *hic* dihihid yOuhHUHU??"

"be careful..or yknow where these hands will go."

in-ho looked directly at the spot of dae-ho's knees. in a moment of inspiration, he realized in what kind of guy he messed up with. although he belived he was skilled in these games, what's his current situation then?

..only and last hope was number 456 now.

as In-ho counted dae-ho's ribs, his mind somewhere else, he suddenly felt a cold run down his spine.

the frontman turned his head behind him slowly. it couldnt be him right?..

shit.

"oh, so you did want more huh?"

gi-hun was behind them, having a smile as if he just won the lottery.

as in-ho's eyes met his, the atmosphere of the feeling he had became right the opposite. 2 hands landed on his sides..again. man, he was a grown adult..how many times did he catch himself in this state now?..gi-hun would not take him serious ever again, he thought.

"a little troublemaker you are..this is getting a serios topic now dont you think so?"

there was no single noise coming out from in-ho, just really tiny squeals. seems like he was holding his laughter in.

"oh? holding in?. that aint cool young-il."

at the same time, dae-ho. this could be his only villian arc. he was still laying down on his back, smoke coming out from his ears from all that laughter and hiding his eyes with his arm. a few giggles slipped out of his mouth.

"juhung-bahehe."

jung-bae was sitting innocently, like a little puddle that just broke a vase.

"yes?.."

a little silence contuined.

"may youhu cohome here.?"

"sure.."

he came to him closer, looking at dae-hos face. the awkward silence between these both still contuined.

"look, im sorry.."

"say that again, but louder."

....

"im sorrEEK-!!"

"....how does it feel huh? i was backstabbed by you!!"

he said, dumping all the "pain" into him while he tickled his dear friend unexpectedly. seriosly, jung-bae thought that dae-ho is maybe an understanding person, so he would understand his situation too he had 2 minutes ago.

" thehehehe! waihihihit *wheeze* wahihit a secohohond!! lehehet mEHEHE *🫖* explAihihihin!! whahahaaaa!!"

"ay, you're even more ticklish than myself..this was unexpected sir." jung-bae even laughed more and a little shade of red appeared on his face. dae-ho looked down where he was tickling him curiously. "wait, your seriosly ticklish on this little spot?"

"aEAhahaha! enough!! enoHOhohoahaha!" he hided his face with his hands and number 388 giggled along with him.

"young-il, let it out!! come on, it aint embarrassing, trust me."

more muffled screaming came out from in-ho. why did he end always up as a lee? this was kinda getting him mad. meanwhile, gi-hun scribbled his ribs again, like the way he did on that night before. a little giggle slipped out from the frontman.

"oho~! seems like a tickly bug got you. don't worry! i'll save you." gi-hun threatened him like a child, chuckling a little now. his tone seemed too playfully, felt like in-ho was his stressreliver.

"enouhuhugh now."

"what? couldn't quite catch that, sorry." another chuckle.

"i sahihid enohough!"

with that attitude, in-ho jumped right infront of him, causing gi-hun to fall down on the floor.

"ow! that hurt.."

damn, gi-hun forgot what kind of strong guy in-ho was. he didnt fight back at all..no. he wanted to see in-ho's true side. plus he wanted to be fair. he exposed in-ho infront everyone else.. so now they both are quit. was he scared? of course. will he maybe get punched in the face?..unknown.

"..remember, violence is not a choice.."

"a guy like you cant tell me that." in-ho replied.

"seems like the tickle bug is affective, ain't it?" he told extra, scribbling his 10 fingers around gi-huns sides now.

gi-hun broke into soft giggles, trying not to squirm and accidentally hurt in-ho. more giggles coming out of him as the scribbling became faster. "plehease-"

"begging already..? it just started!!"

this will be a long morning.

"...how childish."

nam-gyu was looking at the 4 friends who were having a tickle fight against eachother for quite a long time. "it's morning, how the hell are they doing this right here infront of everyone..its even getting embarrassing just by looking at them."

thanos looked up again after a maintime. seems like he took the double of his..drugs. he directly throw his eyes into his friend.

"...what about you nam-su?"

"it's nam-gyu!"

the quitness between both of them hung on the air.

"and..what do you mean- what about me?"

he noticed that thanos was staring him into his soul.

"are you ticklish?.."

...

the tickly bug seriosly was affective.

thanks for reading!! •u•

[overnowsfcb]

even if they talk; trent alexander-arnold smau

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x nepobaby knowles!model!reader

face claim: taylor russell

summary: people will criticize everything, but there is someone who will never fail you, and that was trent.

warnings: mostly fluff, angst (bit of hate and critics towards reader).

note: this is my first smau i hope it's not too bad! i would love to hear your thoughts or suggestions, also requests are open! — venus 🫂💐🫧

INSTAGRAM!

liked by ynknowles, virgilvandijk and 1,199,023 others

trentarnold66 🤷🏽‍♂️

view all comments

user1 the best out there

user2 unreal 🔥🔥🔥

user3 let's go reds!

ynknowles congrats! is there some secret routine helping you before the game to be that amazing? 🤔

↪trentarnold66 Maybe.. But I can't share any details here 🤫

↪user4 ARE WE MISSING SOMETHING????

↪user5 whats so interesting??? share with the class????

user6 yn and trent interacting??? i- wow

↪user7 if i hadnt seen it with my own eyes id say everyones tripping

user8 are they implying something or is just me

↪user9 I THOUGHT EXACTLY THE SAME

user10 YOU BETTER EXPLAIN YOURSELF ynknowles

user11 LET HER COOK

↪user12 girl i think they've already had a feast

user13 wtf is yn doing here

↪user14 she ruins everything good

user15 i hope trent doesnt distract w this... cant even say it

↪user16 yeah we know what she did to her exes so...

↪user17 put some respect on beyoncé's daughter's name and inform yourself before talking, mind you

NEWS!

comments

user trent can do so much better than yn. she just wants to stay relevant

user shes using trent because she has no talents to show

user i've heard rumors about how yn's exes have ended. trent, watch your back, my man.

↪user you talk as if she murdered them??? plus she never did anything to any of her exes you're just talking bc it's free

user i just hope that trent can open his eyes asap

user what a disappointment from trent. i thought he was better than dating a spoiled kid with too much time and money in her hands

user y'all are just jealous that she has what many desire 1. money 2. fame 3. beauty 4. trent's dick

user why is everyone jumping to conclusions though? we should give them the space to tell us whenever they feel ready

user i love how haters act like they know everything about yn's life and they dont know shit

TWITTER!

INSTAGRAM!

liked by zoeisabellakravitz, trentarnold66 and 2,763,548 others

ynknowles paris you are the vibes ⭐️ so damn proud of my little blue and this mind-blowing tour, i love you momma beyonce !

view all comments

beyonce Love you endlessly, my angel. You know how much your support means to Blue. 💙

bellahadid Prettiest fairy in the world.

troyesivan mmm alright??? why are you so perfect???

user18 no trent here though 🤷‍♀️

user19 this is the confirmation about how yn just uses trent

user20 ugh. i hate these nepobabies who think the world revolves around them

ynknowles has restricted the comments for this post

TWITTER!

INSTAGRAM!

liked by ynfan34, trentfan78 and 18,905 others

ynknowlesupdates Yn Knowles in Anfield today with friends! This is the first time we've seen her in public in three months.

view all comments

user1 i cant stand her 😒 smile or smth if youre gonna see your "boyfriend"

↪ ynfan1 if you cant stand her then poke your eyes with a spoon and dont bother 😁

ynfan2 omg this will be the first match that she attends. i hope she enjoys it!!!! (win please)

ynfan3 I MISSED HER SO MUCH IM GLAD SHES WELL

ynfan4 baby looks tired of people taking pics of her 😕 i wanna hug her

↪user2 but shes there for that??? she loves attention

↪ynfan5 or maybe just MAYBE she wants to support her boyfriend??

ynfan6 TODAY I WAS MISSING HER MORE THAN ANYTHING SHE LOVES ME

trentfan1 WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE DOING THERE?? i though we had gotten rid of her 😩

user4 if we lose today you know who is to blame...

trenfan2 over and over again i will repeat it until trent leaves her, shes with him for fame

↪ynfan7 yeah cause trent is soooo worried about what you think right???

user5 i bet shes there just for the cameras

trentfan3 yn trying to be a wag is so cute and laughable. she doesnt even measure up to the real ones.

↪user6 ikr? shes trying so hard poor girl

trentfan4 the fact that she goes with her friends 💀💀 i bet no wag would want to be seen with her

INSTAGRAM!

trentarnold66 Just clever people can handle how flawless my queen is. Happy first anniversary, my love. I love you madly, always. No need to demonstrate anything on social media when we're tellin' each other how much we love at every hour. ❤️

tagged: ynknowles

view all comments

ynknowles i love love love you so fucking much you dont have an idea

↪trentarnold66 i love you more more more than you could imagine

ynknowles thank you for being the most perfect man ive ever known t ❤️❤️❤️❤️

↪trentarnold66 i just try my best to be on your level, lovely

beyonce You are such a gentleman, Trent! Grateful for the way you take care of my angel.

liked by trentarnold66, ynknowles and 21,234 others

ynfan8 A YEAR??? BUT IF WE FOUND OUT FOUR MONTHS AGO

↪trentfan5 i feel so stupid how did they hide it so well 😦😦

trentfan6 shut them up trent

trentfan7 THATS A GOOD MAN!!!! men just take notes rn

bellahadid Thank you for taking care of the purest woman in this world, Trent 💖

ynfan9 not bee and bella thanking him 🥺🥺

↪trentfan8 im gonna cry he must be so cute

↪ynfan10 no bc she surely spent some tough months with the hate towards her and he sure was the supportive boyfriend as he should 😭😭

trentfan9 WHY NO ONES TALKING ABOUT THE BATMAN KEYCHAINS???

↪ynfan11 nonononooooo i love them best couple in the world

ynfan12 the pics he takes of her, the caption, everything 😪😪😪 god send me a man like that

trentfan10 the people who said they were going too fast must be regretting it 🤭

ynfan13 im afraid we'll find out they have kids when they're in uni, lmao. happy anniversary you two!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[nightwriter357]

Smosh summer games:ships

Thank you for your patience everyone, it's finally time for the second part of smosh summer games:ships. I'm definitely taking my time and making this romance a bit slower until it gets smutty but I hope you still enjoy the fluff and comedy with the group

Also a massive thank you to everyone who gave me inspiration for this chapter, I loved hearing from you guys!

Part 2 - Mother trucker, dude that hurt like a buttcheek on a stick

You woke up to the soft glow of morning light through the porthole. As you shifted in the bed, a sharp twinge of pain shot through your back. You groaned softly, stretching and trying to ease the stiffness.

Damien's head popped over the edge of the top bunk, his hair mussed from sleep. "Good morning," he said with a sleepy smile. "How'd you sleep?"

"Morning," you replied, wincing as you sat up. "Not to great, to be honest. My back is fucking killing me. These bunk beds are not exactly comfortable."

Damien frowned slightly. "Yeah, I can imagine. These beds are pretty rough."

You sighed, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and slowly standing up. Damien climbed down from the top bunk, stretching his own limbs. You both tried stretching for a bit, but the stiffness in your back refused to ease.

"Did you get thoose kinks out?," Damien asked, watching you with a sympathetic look.

You shook your head, attempting a few more stretches. "Nope, but im pretty sure I was kinky before sleeping in the bunk bed"

Damien's eyes lit up as a smile started to form. "Oh I'm sure partner."

You tilted your head, "partner?"

He put his hands up, "well what should I call you then, shipmate? duobro? 

"lover, soulmate, better half" you continued.

He froze for a second before responding, "yeah.. yeah I don't think anybody will react if I start calling you lover?

You laughed softly. "No, it's perfectly innocent."

He watched you as you tried to ease your own pain, seemingly working up the courage to say something .

"So.. uhm.. speaking of innocent, How about a massage? I'm pretty good at it, if I do say so myself."

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought. "Are you sure? I don't want to trouble you."

"It's no trouble at all," he said, already moving to sit beside you on the bed. "Lie down on your stomach."

You hesitated for a moment before lying down, your head resting on your folded arms. Your heart raced, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. As Damien's fingers gently brushed your hair aside, you felt a shiver run down your spine.

His hands were warm and firm on your shoulders. He started with light pressure, his fingers kneading the muscles at the base of your neck. The tension began to melt away under his touch, and you let out a contented sigh. "Wow, you weren't kidding. This feels amazing."

Damien chuckled softly. "Told you. I have a secret talent."

He worked his way down your back, his fingers skillfully finding and easing each knot of tension. As he reached the middle of your back, he applied a bit more pressure, his thumbs pressing into the sore spots and drawing out a low moan from you.

"That's the spot," you murmured, feeling the pain ebb away.

"You know, yesterday was a lot of fun," Damien said, his voice low and soothing. "I'm really glad we got to spend time together."

"Yeah, it was," you agreed, smiling to yourself. "I can't believe we almost won. My aim is usually terrible."

Damien laughed, the sound vibrating through his hands into your back. "Well, you did great.. And staying up late talking was awesome too."

"Definitely," you said, reaching for your water bottle on the bedside table, feeling your mouth dry up from the nervousness. Trying to drink while lying on your stomach proved to be a mistake, and you ended up spilling water on your face and it poured down you neck and all over your shirt.

Damien laughed, the sound warm and playful. "Smooth move, you really do have terrible aim, huh?" He helped you sit up, the two of you now sitting side by side on the bed. " Need some help there?"

You giggled, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. "Maybe a little."

He reached for a towel and gently dabbed at your face and neck. "There, all better. But I have to say, you wear water well."

You laughed, "Thanks, I try."

"Feeling any better?" he asked, his tone softening as he held up the towel against you cheek.

"Yeah, a bit," you replied, lowering your gaze while still smiling at him. "Thanks."

Just as you were about to say more, the door swung open, and Courtney walked in with her usual energy. "Morning, roomies! Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

You and Damien both looked up, slightly startled. "Hey, Courtney," you greeted her, still feeling the warmth of Damien's touch lingering on your skin.

Courtney grinned, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Hey, Damien, I need the room, and y/n for some vlogging. Shayne's waiting for you in your guys room."

Damien pouted slightly, clearly wanting to stay. "Aw man, do I have to? I was just getting comfortable here."

Courtney raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. "Yes, you have to. Besides, y/n and I have some stuff to catch up on. You'll have plenty of time to hang out later."

You couldn't help but smile at Damien's reluctance. "It's okay, Damien. We'll catch up later."

Damien sighed dramatically, standing up and stretching. "Fine, fine. But you better not have all the fun without me."

Courtney laughed, waving him off. "Don't worry, we'll save some fun for you. Now go on, Shayne's waiting."

As Damien gathered his things, he gave you a quick, playful salute. "See you later, y/n."

"See you," you replied, watching him leave with a mix of amusement and a hint of longing.

"I'll see you later too, Damien", Courtney yelled after him.

Once the door closed behind him, Courtney immediately pulled out her camera and started recording. "Morning, vlog! It's Courtney here, and I'm with y/n in our room. We've got a fun day ahead of us at the Smosh Summer Games, ships edition!"

You waved at the camera with a cheerful smile. "Hey, everyone! We're so excited for today. Yesterday was awesome, and I bet there's some crazy stuff planned."

Courtney panned the camera around the room, capturing the cozy atmosphere. "So, y/n, how did you sleep? These bunk beds are not exactly five-star comfort."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Honestly, not the best. My back is a bit sore, but it's all part of the experience, right?"

Courtney grinned, giving the camera a look. "Well, folks, I'll make sure y/n gets some proper rest tonight. But first, we've got to get ready for today's games."

"Yeah, especially after such a long night of... oh, I mean, the bunks aren't exactly comfy," you said, catching yourself just in time. "But it was fun having a little roomie chat before bed, right, Court?"

Courtney nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! It was like so much fun. We stayed up way too late talking about everything that happend yesterday."

You both shared a knowing smile, hoping the viewers would buy it.

Courtney continued, "So y/n, can you believe the twist this year? Being paired up with the fans favorite ships? I mean, who would've thought?"

You laughed. "I know, right? 'The Leg Peggers' is such a fitting name for our team, and being paired with Damien... well, let's just say I wasn't suprised or disapointed!"

Courtney nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "And of course, I'm with Shayne, which is just perfect. But seriously, how funny was Spencer's judge outfit yesterday? That wig was something else!"

You giggled, remembering the scene. "Oh my god, yes! He looked like he stepped out of a history book. And the way he kept saying those courtroom lines... classic Spencer."

Courtney laughed, nodding in agreement. "Totally. And ofcourse we ended up on the same team" She leaned in to hug you with her free arm. "Wish we would have been shiped though but.. good enough I guess.

You both burst into laughter, enjoying the playful banter. "Yeah so true, We're definetly got the star power on our team, 'The Seamen' better watch out".

Courtney grinned, pointing the camera back at herself. "Alright, vlog, we're off to get ready for today's challenges. Stay tuned for more fun and craziness at the Smosh Summer Games"

"Shiiiiiips," you chimed in.

She ended the recording and set the camera aside, turning back to you with a smile. "So, seriously, how was it sharing a room with Damien? He didn't snore or anything, did he? Also, I didn't expect to find you both on like the same bed this morning."

You laughed, shaking your head. "No, he didn't snore. He was actually really easy to talk to. We stayed up late just chatting about everything. And as for this morning, it's so not what it looks like. I was just complaining about my back, and he offered to give me a massage. Totally innocent."

Courtney raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Totally innocent, huh? Sure, if you say so. " She poked your side with her ellbow. But sounds like a bit more than just a friendly massage to me."

You felt your cheeks heat up and quickly shook your head. "I swear, it was just a massage. He was being really sweet, that's all."

Courtney laughed, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. "Okay, okay, I believe you. For now. But you know, the fans are going to go wild if they ever find out."

You sighed, still smiling. "Well you're one to talk"

Courtney smiled warmly. "Okay you got me there." She stod up to face you, "soooo, how about some sunbathing?"

You nodded, already feeling the excitement of the day's activities building. "I'm ready. Let's do this."

As you took your bikini out from your bag, you couldn't help but replay the morning's events in your mind, a smile tugging at your lips at the memory of Damien's touch and the fact that he seemed to want to stay in the room with you so bad.

You and Courtney made your way to the deck, finding a sunny spot to lay out your towels. The warmth of the sun felt incredible on your skin as you settled down, ready to relax and soak up the rays.A few moments later, Shayne joined you both, followed closely by Amanda and Arasha. 

"Hey, ladies! Mind if we join you?" Shayne asked, spreading out his towel beside Courtney.

"Is there a world where I would say no to that?" Courtney replied with a grin, making room for him. Amanda and Arasha settled down nearby, greeting you both with cheerful enthusiasm.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Damien playing pool with some other cast members. He seemed distracted, his gaze frequently drifting over to where you were lounging with the others. More than once, Anthony had to tap him on the shoulder to get his attention back to the game. It was hard to ignore the way his eyes lingered on you, a mix of focus and something else that drew your attention. Was it possible that Damien actually liked you? The thought made your heart beat a little faster, sending a subtle wave of flustered nerves through you. You quickly turned back to the group, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to form on your lips, determined not to let your thoughts show.

"So, how's rooming together" Arasha asked looking at you and Courtney.

You chuckled, Courtney leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Actually, we switched rooms so Shayne and I could sleep together. So now, Damien and y/n are sharing a room."

Amanda raised her eyebrows, looking impressed. "Ooh, sneaky move, Court! So, y/n, how's that working out?"

You smiled, still feeling a bit flustered. "It's fine, really. Damien's been a gentleman."

Arasha grinned, nudging you playfully. "I'm sure he has." 

Amanda stretched out on her towel, looking relaxed. "I'm with Angela. We're already plotting our game strategy. Not that we need to, we crushed it yesterday"

The group chatted and laughed, the sun warming your skin as you enjoyed the easygoing banter. Courtney put sun lotion on Shayne and ended upp squeezing out half the bottle on his back, he chased her around the deck as the rest of you rooted for Courtney to get away with it.

After a while, Damien strolled over, a playful glint in his eye. "Hey, lover," he said as he approached, his tone teasing.

"Oh, hi lover," you responded with a grin, lowering your sunglasses.

Damien smiled, then turned to the group. "Can I borrow Shayne for a moment?"

Shayne got up turning to you all, "I'm in high demand it seams"

Damien looked at you again, "see you all later," he said, waving before walking away.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Amanda and Arasha turned to you with wide eyes. "Lover? What's that about?" Arasha asked, her curiosity piqued.

You laughed, feeling a bit sheepish. "It's an inside joke. We were just goofing around this morning."

Courtney grinned, leaning back on her towel. "Yeah, just goofing around on the bed together right?"

You turned around and pulled up her sunglasses from her eyes" Oh shut up", you looked back at Amanda and Arasha, glancing in the direction Damien had gone. "We are.. It's been great, getting to know him better."

Amanda chuckled, giving you a knowing look. "Just don't forget about us when you two are off having your inside jokes and deep deep talks."

"Never," you said with a smile. "You guys are stuck with me."

Arasha pursed her lips at you "Okay, loverrrrr"

The group laughed, just then, Angela walked by, her curiosity piqued. "What are you guys whispering about?"

You glanced at Arasha, sharing a conspiratorial smile. "Oh, you didn't hear? Arasha BOOKED."

Angela rolled her eyes, her voice filled with mock exasperation. "I am NOT falling for that one again, man."

As Angela walked off, everyone burst into laughter, the moment lightening the mood and hopefully taking the heat of you and Damien for a bit. After a while you decided to get back and prepare for whatever game was next. You passed Damien on your way back to the cabin. Spencer tugged on his shoulder, "Hey man, It's your turn again". 

"Yeah okay", he quickly turned around, talking a shot straight away without worrying about making it, before walking up behind you.

"Hey, where are you going?" 

You turned to look at him over your shoulder "Just talking a shower"

He caught up to you, adjusting his pace to walk along side you, "Do you need any help?"

You looked at him with a questioning smile, "Do I need any help showering?"

He stopped, "Oh.. no.. sorry I meant.."

You looked over your shoulder again, seeing the guys trying to get his attention again, before looking back to him. His cheekes were blushed and his mouth was moving without forming any actuall words. "I think they need you again, lover". You kept walking to your room, not looking back to see how he reacted to your line.

You got out of the shower and decided to put on a new dry bikini and some soft shorts and a tank top over it. You went up to meet the cast again and Anthony and Ian waved you over to the ping pong table and the camera started rolling.

Spencer, dressed in his judge attire, holding up a ping pong ball to explain the rules once again."We are once again bringing back an old smosh summer games favorite, PAINPONG. It's just like regular ping pong exept for when you score a point, your opponent needs to lift up their shirt and let you take a shot at their body, if you make it, you get your point." He looked around at all of you, "Got it?"

Angela shook her head, "no, actually, can you say that again?"

Spencer at her, "Frankly, no"

 As pairs were decided, Ian and Anthony stepped up first, their match quickly turning chaotic. Ian served the ball with a dramatic flourish, only for it to veer wildly off course. Anthony attempted a heroic dive to return it, crashing into the side of the table instead. Laughter erupted from the spectators.

"Nice one, Ian!" Shayne called out, clapping.

Undeterred, Ian managed to regain control and hit a solid shot, sending the ball skimming over the net. Anthony, with a look of fierce determination, swung his paddle with all his might, missing entirely and spinning in place. The crowd roared with laughter, Spencer shaking his head in mock disapproval.

"Focus, Anthony!" Spencer called, striking a gavel-like pose. "Order on the ping-pong court!"

"It's not a court" Chanse muttered.

On the next serve, Ian hit the ball with precision, and it grazed the table's edge, earning him a point. With a triumphant grin, he picked up the ball and readied himself to take the shot at Anthony’s body. Anthony, shirt pulled over his head, braced himself for impact.

Ian aimed carefully and shot the ball directly on Anthonys bellybutton, causing Anthony to yelp and dance comically in protest.

"Ow, my body! I’m down!" Anthony exclaimed, staggering back theatrically. The group burst into laughter, cheering Ian on.

"Point to Ian!" Spencer announced, adopting a stern judge's tone. 

Ian grinned, bowing to the audience. "Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week."

The match concluded with Ian as the winner.

Amanda and Courtney faced off next, with an intense match filled with laughter and competitive spirit, ending with Amandas precise aim clinching victory.  Shayne and Noah followed, their game was high-energy and entertaining, but Shayne's powerful serves ultimately led him to triumph.

Keith and Damien were next. Despite his usual skill, Damien seemed off his game. His focus kept shifting to where you and Trevor were sitting, chatting and laughing together. Trevor leaned in closer, whispering something that made you giggle and playfully nudge him. The sight of you being so affectionate with Trevor seemed to throw Damien off.

Keith took full advantage of Damien's distraction. His quick reflexes and precise shots put Damien on the defensive. With each point Keith scored, Damien's frustration seemed to grow.

At one point, Damien's gaze lingered on you and Trevor as you shared an animated conversation, completely missing Keith's serve. The ball zipped past him, and Spencer, dressed as the judge, called out the score with a dramatic flourish. "Point to Keith"

The other cast members noticed and Ian called out, "Come on, Damien! We need this win!" But it was no use. Keith’s consistent play and Damien’s wandering attention led to Keith winning the match.

With the score now tied, the final match between you and Trevor would decide the overall winner.

"Alright, Y/n and Trevor, you're up next. Everything depends on this moment" Spencer announced, gesturing for you and Trevor to take your positions.

Amanda laughed, "that's a bit intense dude"

Trevor approached you with a sly grin as you prepared to face off. "Alright, Y/n, you ready to play? I'm so gonna get that shirt off you," he teased with a wink.

You rolled your eyes playfully, adjusting your stance. "That'll be the first time you get a lady to take her top off," you retorted, putting your game face on.

The group erupted into laughter and cheers, enjoying the competitive yet playful digs. Damien, though joining in the laughter, couldn't completely hide his disappointment as he watched you interact with Trevor.

Spencer blew his whistle, signaling the start of your match. The game went back and forth, with Trevor making daring shots and you somehow hitting them expertly. Ian, as team captain, watched intently, offering occasional words of encouragement and strategizing with the others.

"Keep your eye on the ball, Y/n! You got this!" Ian shouted, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

"Whose ball, Spencers?" You quickly responded before hitting the ball back at Trevor.

Spencer, true to his judge persona, interjected "Objection"

You were to busy giggling with the others when the ball returned to you. "Sustained, point for Trevor" Spencer announced when Trevor managed to hit your stomach, earning a point.

Chanse raised his eyebrow, "sustained?"

The crowd cheered and jeered, with Trevors teammates rooting loudly for him. "That's it, Trevor. Do it for the seamen!"  Keith shouted. While your teammates, led by Ian, chanted "peg those legs, peg those legs."

As the match progressed, Trevor managed to get a few body shots in, one grazed your breast, causing a red mark to appear. You winced slightly but brushed it off with a laugh.

"Careful there, Trevor, you're gonna get this video demonetized," you quipped, earning chuckles from the onlookers.

Damien, leaning against the nearby railing, watched with a growing sense of poutiness. "Hey, be careful with my partner there, bud," he called out with a playful grin, though his tone carried a hint of protectiveness.

Trevor's determination paid off, and he managed to win a few points. "Alright, Y/n, it's time to surrender." Trevor said with a grin, sending another shot your way.

You hit the ball back, "hey, watch it! You're just jealous of my ping pong skills," you teased back, flashing a smirk.

Damien rolled his eyes playfully at your remark, but beneath his playful facade, you could sense his subtle discomfort. He seemed almost annoyed, was it just because you were losing? Or is he actually getting a little jealous watching you laugh with someone other than himself?

Spencer, playing up his judge role, added, "Another point for Trevor! The defendant scores again!"

Amanda interjected, "You can't just say stuff that makes no sense, like how is he a defendant?"

The game continued with Trevor and you exchanging playful banter and shots. Occasionally, one of you would win a point but miss the other's body, adding to the tension and excitement. Finally, Trevor managed to hit a shot squarely on your chest, causing a loud cheer from his teammates.

"Ey, boob shot!" Spencer exclaimed, high-fiving him.

You rubbed the spot where the ping pong ball hit, pretending to pout. "Alright, you earned it this time," you conceded with a grin.

After the intense match of Pain Pong, where 'The seamen' once again emerged victorious, Ian and Anthony adjusted the points, 2-0.

Later the cast gathered for dinner in the ship's dining area. Trevor gestured for you to sit beside him and Spencer, a playful smirk on his face.

"Come on over, Y/n. Saved you a spot right here," Trevor said with a wink, patting the seat next to him.

You chuckled at Trevor's playful demeanor and slid into the seat beside him, ready to enjoy dinner. Spencer, still in his judge attire, joined in with a theatrical tone, "Ah, Y/n, I see you've chosen to dine with the winning team. Wise choice."

"Are you just always going to wear that?" You asked as you pulled out the chair.

Spencer looked up at you, his eyes fluttering. "It brings out my eyes."

As you settled in, you couldn't help but notice Damien across the table, who seemed to have saved a seat for you beside him after you had already sat down next to Trevor. His expression was hard to read, but you could swear there was a subtle hint of disappointment in his eyes. You had barely said a word to him all day, but you had been preoccupied. Now, you just wished you had sat next to him.

Ian started distributed vlog cameras to each ship. "Alright, everyone, let's capture some great moments for the vlogs during the time we're here. Get some behind-the-scenes footage and b-roll. And everyone," Ian grinned at Amanda and Angela who where huddled together, "make sure you all record some cute moments together."

Trevor leaned in closer with a mischievous grin, his voice low. ""Any ideas for your vlog footage?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, casting a quick glance at Damien, who seemed momentarily distracted by his food. "Oh, I'm sure Damien and I can come up with something."

Trevor chuckled, "Just don't make it too hard for me and Arasha to top, okay?".

Anthony held up one of the cameras, "okay guys, let's just do a toast for the video, the sound dosen't matter, let's just make it look natural.

As the recording started, Noah piped up holding up his glass to start off the toast, " I feel safe knowing that I can be here, be myself, without the presence of a camera.

Tommy interjected, " yeah absolutely, because there is nobody filming right now." He looked directly into the camera lens.

Chance clinked his glass against Tommys, " It really feels amazing"

You lifted you glass aswell, "cheers my deer friends"

Spencer stood up " cheers, now.. now we cheers!" He coughed, Cheers, this is not staged"

Anthony shook his head at you all and looked over to Ian who was giggling. Everybody laughed as Ian patted Anthony on the shoulder.

As the dinner progressed, Trevor kept up his playful banter, occasionally making witty remarks that had you laughing along. Meanwhile, Damien remained quieter than usual, his gaze occasionally drifting over to where you and Trevor were seated. You felt the discomfort in your back returning, and Courtney noticed your subtle grimace.

"Hey, Is your back still bothering you y/n?" Courtney asked, her concern evident.

You squirmed in your seat, "yeah, it's better though"

Shayne turned over to you, " You know, we took the mattress from the top bunk and put it on the bottom. It's so much more comfortable," 

Damien, who had been relatively quiet, suddenly spoke up, rubbing his eyes. "I'm feeling a bit tired. I think I'll head to bed early tonight."

Courtney raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with Shayne. "This early? What's up with that, Damien?"

Damien shrugged nonchalantly. "Just tired, that's all."

You noticed Damien's subdued mood and wished you could just lean over to him to make sure everything was okay.

As the evening wore on, you couldn't shake the feeling that Damien had been distant all day, his demeanor hinting at something more than just fatigue. You finnished up your food and excused yourself to go and check on him. 

Inside, Damien stood by the bunk beds, clad only in a towel, clearly caught off guard by your sudden entrance. His wet hair glistened in the dim cabin light, and you couldn't help but notice how good he looked right now, still glistening from a recent shower. The droplets of water accentuating his  biceps and making his skin shimmer in the low light. Just one hand on the towel, without that hand he would be completely naked. It was the first time you had seen him like this, and it sent a slight flutter through your chest.

"Oh, hey," Damien said, his voice breaking the silence, trying to sound casual despite his surprise.

"Hi," you replied softly, trying to gather your thoughts as you took in the sight of him. "I noticed you seemed off tonight. Are you okay?"

Damien hesitated, his gaze flickering away briefly before meeting yours. "Yeah, just... tired, I guess."

You closed the door behind you, stepping further into the room, the tension palpable in the air. "Is there something else bothering you?"

He shook his head and some water flew from his hair to his chest, he looked sad. You went up to him and gave him a hug. One of his hands went up to the back of your neck.

" You know I would hug you back completely but I only have one free hand" he said softly against your ear.

" What so you, oh" you answered as you realised that he still had to hold his towel up. "I'm sorry" you said creating some distance but still holding your hands  behind his neck. " I probably shouldn't be hugging you while you're practically naked"

"I don't mind" he quickly responded " you know, in a.." he looked up as he tried to find the words "So, how's your back holding up?" he asked, changing the subject.

You chuckled, somewhat grateful for the shift in tone. You backed away and started looking through your suitcase for something to wear to bed. "Still bothering me a bit."

He glanced toward the bunk beds, his smile a bit hesitant. "Uh, so... Shayne and Courtney swapped the mattresses. I heard it’s supposed to be more comfortable. Maybe, um, we could try that too?"

You raised an eyebrow teasingly. "Are you suggesting we share a bunk?"

He looked down, "only, you know, if you want to. For your back of course."

"Okay.. but maybe we keep this of the vlogs, it could look suspicious". You winked at him as you grabbed a big t-shirt to sleep in. "Can you turn around for a sec? I have to change"

He smiled at you before turning around to face the porthole, "got it".

You started to undress, even though he couldn't see you, it still felt intimate somehow. You pulled your shirt over your head, let your shorts fall to the floor. You could hear him take a deep breath at the sound of your clothing hitting the floor. You put on a t-shirt, it was short, maybe a little bit to short. You tucked your hair behind your ear, "you can turn back around now".

As he turned around his eyes appeared to do a quick scan of your body before settling on your eyes, " I guess it's your turn to turn around". You complied, letting your hands tug at the bottom on you shirt as you faced the door. You heard towel unraveling and he rummaged through his things. "Ehm, I think you have my pants there infront of you" he said.

You looked down, they were hanging on a chair in front of you. " Yeah" you grabbed them and tried to hand them to his without looking, "where are you?"

He put one hand on your waist and used the other to grab the pants from your hand "right here."

You could feel your body flinch at the sudden contact. He's naked behind you, a part of you just wanted to turn around and take him in, but you couldn't. He let go and got dressed before tapping you on the shoulder to signal that it was clear to turn around. He grabbed the mattress from the top bunk and slid it in the bottom.

He got in the bunk and slid under the covers. He wore a pair of pyjama pants and you a t-shirt, together you made one fully clothed person but like this, it felt a bit intimate crawling in bed together. You followed suit, instantly feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. You were face to face, the bed was small so there was no way to adjust yourselfs so you weren't touching.

"So, so what was up today?" You finally asked him.

He licked his upper lip and closed his eyes for a second, " I just felt a bit.. disappointed"

You made eye contact with him, " Was it because I lost?" You questioned.

Damien shook his head in response and let out a small laugh, " God no, do you think I actually care about that? No it was just.. I wanted to hang out with you more. I mean we had a good time yesterday, and this morning, right?"

You smiled back at him, putting your hand on his shoulder. " Of course we did, we always do, I always enjoy spending time with you"

He pursed his lips, " You know everybody just seems to swarm around you, it's not that easy to get time with you.

You rested your head on the pillow and closed your eyes, "well you have me tonight and every night."

He poked you in your side " Oh I have you every night, huh?" He grinned.

You opened you eyes slightly, "you know what I mean."

You turned around to sleep and felt his hot breath against your neck. Your body instinctively pushed up against him as you felt a shiver go through it. " I'm sorry Damien..I"

"You're fine" he reassured, "it's a small bed, we're bound to make contact at some point."

" Yeah, I guess so. I think it's just, you feel so warm"

He sensed your shiver. "You feel cold," he said, concern in his voice.

You inched closer, feeling the heat of his body. "I guess that's perfect," you whispered, a hint of a smile on your lips.

"It feels perfect," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and care.

"Goodnight lover"

"Goodnight lover"

[stolentrekblr]

Trekblr Community Reaction

I have wanted to compile reactions from the community for a while now, and today I finally made it happen. I have not editorialized anything, doing my best to copy reactions as written. Without further ado:

i love accs like this and the people behind them. the dedication to search for stuff like this and bring it home. sounds absolutely maddening and i salute them. to sift through garbage theft accs… doing the lords work

idk if i should feel honored or not, at least my username is there lol. this is very funny to me. like i dont even use facebook anymore

Omg they erased the last sentence. Lmao. I mean if you’re gonna steal my posts at least include the entire thing. It’s literally the least you could do

chat should we kill them?

OMGOD IVE MADE IT!!! this is crazy because i feel like my dad might actually see my star trek posts LMFAO. he's always on there. this is a big moment

I don't have a problem with reposts of my stuff if the watermark/username is included, but I appreciate the spirit of what you're doing

Nice sentiment but i really don't want people on facebook to have a link to my tumblr blog. thank god it's uncredited... been around a while my posts are always being stolen

The person Im thinking of flat out took OC memes from me and passed off my captions as his own. He gave me credit once from what I've seen and then the other times it looks like he made it up himself. I'm all for tossing memes out there and letting them be wild and free, but this guy twists it and uses it to beg for money on his page. He's got the lobes.

Why did they censor my pfp but not my username WHAT

damn. ig im famous now. better start lining up for autographs

People are posting me to Facebook???????

Damn... I'm not even mad about this tbh... someone thought my stupid post was good enough to steal and put on a facebook group 🤣🤣

disgusting

?!?!??!??!??!??!?!!!??!?

You know what I'm ok with Facebook enjoying this one I appreciate it being edited over them

This has never happened to me before

I honestly don’t mind seeing screen shots of my posts showing up elsewhere, it’s inevitable, but the nature of a screenshot shows the source of the post as well as the OP. But this crap is blatant plagiarism. Obviously this person is on tumblr, so I hope they see this. Please do better and have a smidgeon of integrity. Just give credit? It’s really not difficult? Thanks @stolentrekblr for the effort here.

Yooooo this is wild! Glad people like it I guess

This one ALMOST gives credit. But not quite. Could’ve just typed my handle in the post 🤷‍♀️ super easy, barely an inconvenience.

Come on... Just type "credit: *tumblr handle of the OP*" It's so easy not to be a spineless thief.

The watermark 🙄🙄

keep doing your thing op. you're like an archeologist but instead of screaming about how it belongs in a museum you are adamantly making sure people know where these things came from. i can't even fucking imagine the searching you have to do to find these posts. earlier today i couldn't find a post i had seen yesterday. keep it up!

I tracked down a post of mine that you found reposted on the data FB page, and left them a comment. "Hey look, its my post! didn't even crop out my tumblr url lmao. it was much more popular on my blog tho (1,817. notes)" They did not respond. 😒 It only got 344 reactions and 6 comments on the data page though... that page has like 38k followers... at least my posts do well when I post them myself on the Star Trek Shitposting page 🤣

I've made it. I have arrived. I got my 5 second shitpost lifted and put on another social media site, complete with a hazy photo overlay. I have won at Tumblr. I can rest now. I can rest.

Ohh yeah, this guy's a real loser. It's the WATERMARK for me 🙄

The HUBRIS!

ahh wow Ive never had a post escape containment before!! did they at least link back?

I am touched ^-^

plagiarism is the real problem. it gets worse when you see someone profit off the passions of other people in a fandom

well damn. and i'm here looking for employment...

sad to see someone else repost on fb and even watermark it. seriously what is up with the watermark over a screenshot of a tumblr post

Yeah. I think you're doing good work. I think exploitation is so baked into society that some people don't even realize when they are using the free labor of others for their own gain.

[sofs16]

our day

series masterfile — prev. chapter

note IM HERE😭 last chapter! thank you for all the support🤍 i also finally learned how to make fake tweets AHAH + not proofread and short taglist @autumn-bitch7 @raevyng @luvvtrent @boherahpsody @treehouse-mouse @chasing-liberosis @celestialams @cherry-piee @stevesthetics @ilovechickenwings @blueflorals @janeholt3 @buckybarnessweetheart @lec-16 @1655clean @dear-fifi @honethatty12 @heavengirls111 @kagatinkita

— twitter !!!

— instagram !!!

yn

liked by charles_leclerc, and 2,459,593 others

yn does it look like im looking at him?

view all 473,696 comments

ferrarisgal HER FIRST POST IN A YEAR…..

⤷ mclarenaults we’ve been starved. even the jpg acc died

pierregasly when are you not looking at Charles?

⤷ yn touché

charles_leclerc does it look like i’m looking at you? ⤷yn HEHEHEHEE

yourbestfriend SHES BACK BITCHES

⤷ yn better than ever 😘

user83 i believe user ynlelcl summoned her

september 26, 2025

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, and 6,393,595 others

charles_leclerc Looking at yn view all 1,595,393 comments

yn im yn

⤷ charles_leclerc My one and only

⤷ landonorris Ew

⤷ yn Wow

ynleclercers WE’RE GETTING FED

september 27, 2025

ynslover

liked by yn, and 1,283 others ynslover who can blame her for going offline after that shitshow of a year 😭

view all 37 comments

october 2, 2025

yn.jpg

liked by charles_leclerc, and 1,228,585 others yn.jpg Lewink ;)

view all 27,696 comments

charles_leclerc Great post to end the season 😘🍾

november 26, 2025

yn and charles_leclerc

liked by 9,483,292 others yn and charles_leclerc ☃️

view all 2,954,228 comments

hassferr1 hehe collab post cute

weekf1 BABYLOVESS

december 27, 2025

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, and 5,283,484 others

charles_leclerc We’re back 🏎️❤️

📸 yn.jpg

view all 895,695 comments

yn thanks for credits babe 😘

march 3, 2026

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, and 1,585,493 others

charles_leclerc Summer lovin! (-yn)

view all 631,483 comments

pinterest ❤️

⤷ ylnlover WWHATRRRR

cruelslover I LOVE THEM

april 2, 2026

yn.jpg

liked by 3,272,595 others

yn.jpg leclercs jpg 🏎️

view all 917,559 comments

lecls63 LECLERCS? WHAT

scuderia_yln WHAT. june 11, 2026

twitter !!!

charles_leclerc

liked by yn_leclerc, and 11,697,493 others

charles_leclerc The last photo was the first time we slept together in our house together. It was 2 am when you were kidding about doing your own makeup at our wedding because you wanted to be independent. I have been waiting since then to ask you. Now, you have taken not only my heart, but my last name. It may have been funny for the guys to call you Mrs. Leclerc at the paddock but to me, it was everything I have wanted since I met you. It is my greatest win in life to be able to love you as your husband. view all 5,282,696 comments

ynsdefendr THE FUCK IT WAS REAL?

yn_leclerc IM BAWLINGGGGG WHATTTTTTTT

yn_leclerc AND I THOUUGHT THE WEDDING VOWS WAS IT 😭

yn_leclerc I love you so much Im literally beside you but. lorenzotl Congrats 🍾 ❤️

scuderiaferrari Congrats Mr & Mrs. Leclerc! ❤️

ynz16 them being married on the 16th just makes sense to me…. ⤷ 16slc the fact its 6/16/26 LOOKS SO YUMMY

june 16, 2026

yn_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, and 4,669,292 others yn_leclerc it’s our day. i cant be too sentimental online but i’m glad i decided to have a paddock day and the universe decided we cross paths. im thankful we get to share our love in photos with the world and it will live on forever. i know there are ripples in our love that test our trust but it will always be our home and our leclerc win ❤️

view all 1,697,696 comments

ynslecl THE USERNAME. charles_leclerc I love you ❤️

pierregasly Thanks for the free drinks! user not all the chapter titles used here.

june 16 2026

[dirtybitfic]

So wrong yet so right Final part

Smutt, graduation, relationship , Time skip .

Me and matt woke up enter twined in each others arms.

it was nice to wake up to him I know that there is no going back to a normal " professor student " relationship after last night but right now all I can think about is how happy he makes me feel.

We got up and showered then he made us breakfast and we ate and watched movies cuddling the rest of the day. I didn't realize that its almost the end of the weekend .

It's Saturday night right now and i'm dreading tomorrow But right now im content as matt is between my thighs eating me out like a fucking pro. I now believe the saying"older men do it better" because Jesus Christ ive never had head feel so good.

F-fuck matt oh my god I moan out as hes sucking and licking on my clit and my hands are entertained in his hair.

He hums against be causing me to buck into his and press his face harder into me. His fingers pumping in and out at the perfect speed as my 4th orgasm of the night is coursing though me .

He laps up my juices that are spilling out of me as im gasping and crying from how over stimulated I am .

I have to forcefully push his head away since he showed no signs of stopping .

Sorry baby you okay I just cant get enough of you he says while stroking my hair.

mhm im okay just overstimulated I sigh out as I slump onto the bed and wipe my tears away.

we fall asleep talking about childhood memories and crazy things we've done in our past.

.............................................................................................................................

Sunday morning rolls around and I groan as I turn over to face matt seeing hes already looking at me smiling.

good morning gorgeous

good morning I cheap back as I nuzzle into his warm bare chest .

after laying there for a bit I groan as I get up and stretch then head to the bathroom .

I come out and sigh as I sit next to him as hes reading something on his phone.

All the sudden the doorbell rings and his head snaps to the door .

fuck he says as he gets up and throws on a shirt rushing down the stairs I slowly follow as I hear another loud voice booming from the entry way. I look down the stairs to see another man looking a lot like matt just with longer hair.

I slowly make my way down the stairs and he looks at me smiling.

wow matt who is this he says pointing to me with a smirk

matt turns smiling as I walk up next to him.

this is y/n and y/n this is my brother chris

its nice to meet you chris ive heard a lot about you I answer honestly . Matt talked so sweetly about his brothers last night and I learned a lot about them.

its nice to meet you too he says smiling at me warmly .

well I just wanted to stop by since I just git back from the big meeting in New York and to drop these papers off to you Chris says handing matt a folder .

Thanks man im glad your back and that the meeting went well you and nick should come over for dinner this week. he says before hugging his brother.

yeah for sure ill next nick and see what day works best but ill leave you two alone . Love you man see you later he says before walking back out the front door and to his car.

so what should we do today matt says turning to me with a smile I return it with a small sigh.

I don't know but I do kinda have homework I say sigh dramatically looking off to the side. The homework im speaking of is for his class

what for what class he asks like he shocked I have work to do.

oh you know this writing class the professor loves to give us work over the weekend . What a dick am I right I joke as I smile up at him

well I hear that professor is very forgiving with his favorite student he says stepping closer with a smirk on his face

oh is he now I say smiling as my hand creeps up his shirt over his chest

mhm he hums as he picks me up and takes me to the couch .

He sits down as I straddle him as he brings me into a deep needy kiss.

I grind onto him and a whimper escapes my lips from the friction.

He unties his sweat pants as he pulls them down along with his boxers as his dick springs out .

gonna ride me like good girl yeah he says as he looks deeply into my eyes.

I nod as I move my thong to the side and slide down onto him causing us both to groan .

I start bouncing as moans escape my lips and deep groans leave his.

his hands grab my ass slapping it a couple times as I continue bouncing as his length fills me to the brim and his tip hits my spot every time.

my breathing is accelerating as my orgasm vastly approaches .

fuck gonna cum with me baby he groans as his grip on my ass tightens and I moan .

y-yes sir I moan out as I speed up my bouncing close to reaching my orgasm .

After a couple more bounces he twitches inside me and I shake and clench around him as I cum and he grabs my hips fucking up into me for a little until he fills me up.

Fuck he groans as we both sit there catching our breathe .

I lay my head on his chest as I slowly lift myself off of him but stay seated on his lap .

I look into his eyes as he looks into mine both sharing a look we cant write place.

I really like you y/n

I really like you too matt I say as a cheeky smile forms on my face .

after a couple hours of cuddling and watching movies we decide its probably time to take me back to my car I left on campus Friday night

I don't want to go home but I know I need to .

We drive back as we talk and listen to music .

I give his a final kiss good bye before getting into my car and heading back to my apartment.

Im sad I won't see him until Friday since he had to cancel class Tuesday for a business meeting with his brothers but I understand .

once I get home I take a shower and et some dinner before finishing up some work die tomorrow for my classes then head to bed giddy as I have flash backs of the perfect weekend I spent with matt.

.............................................................................................................................

Friday rolls around and i'm rushing to class way to excited to see him than I should be.

I enter the class room and sit down closer to the front as his eyes meet mine and we smile. I have to hold myself back from blushing .

Class went by fast as matt ends the class off with our writing assignment that will make up our final grade for the class . The end of my senior semester is closing in and im excited but also scared for what will happen when I graduate.

As im packing my stuff matt come over and places a paper on my desk smiling at me .

I look at it seeing its the name of a restaurant outside of town and a picture of a gorgeous convertible rental.

what is this I ask confused

all you need to know is to be ready by 6:30 ill be waiting outside in that convertible he says before walking back to his desk gathering his things and heading out the door.

Me and matt are at dinner right now talking and having a good time before he goes serious.

so I have something to ask you he says in a serious tone

o-okay I answer nervously

will you be my girlfriend he ask smiling

yes of course I say smiling so big my cheeks hurt.

he leans over the table pressing a kiss to my lips then sitting back down

so what do you plan on doing when you graduate he ask as he takes a sip of his wine

Im not quite sure I was thinking of trying to write a book I say as I look at him smiling.

you know where the best place to write a book is he asks smiling

hmm no where I say tilting my head

my home office he says smiling bigger

is- that your way of asking me to move in with you when I graduate I ask a bit take back

yes it is he says noting his head smiling

I guess that would be okay I say in a sarcastic joking tone

he smiles before shaking his head so is that a yes

yes thats a yes I say as I cant stop smiling

.............................................................................................................................

I just received my diploma and my college years have come to an end .

its bittersweet but exciting at the same time.

Im talking to my friends as matt come over giving me a hug .

Congratulations y/n I know you'll do great things he says keeping up the "just my professor" act up since we are in front of people.

Thank you professor sturniolo im really glad I took your class its helped me figure out I really like writing .

well I think you'd be an amazing writer he says smiling

thank you I smile back as my friend drew grabs my hand

come on we gotta got get ready for the party she says before dragging me away.

I smile and wave good bye before mouthing the words

"see you Tommorrow " making him smile

Me and my friends just got to the big ass end of the year party as everyone os drinking and having a good time.

Im deciding not to drink tonight since my stomach has been feeling weird this week and im not feeling throwing up tonight.

Were all mingling and talking reminiscing on the good times as Jay walks up to me looking upset . He was the guy I had been seeing on and off but since me and matt started seeing each other I stopped talking to him.

Y/n why haven't you answered my texts he slurs as he stumbled a bit

ive been really busy with homework and I kinda met someone im sorry I should have talked to you about it I say trying to loom like its sorry when in reality im not.

You - met somebody he asks looking like a sad puppy

yeah i... im sorry I just... he cuts me off

no don't be im happy for you he says smiling

really you are I ask a bit shocked

yeah cause I kinda met someone too his names Damian he says smiling.

I look at him jaw dropped I had no idea you were bi I say smiling

yeah I just recently found out myself but im glad were both happy and know I still love you so much you've been a great person to have in my life these past years he says bringing me into a hug

I love you too jay I say as I hug him back

well I should probably head home ive had a couple to many drinks but good luck with whatever great things you'll be doing and you better keep in touch

you too be safe I say as he walks off and I smile . That was the nicest way that interaction could have gone and im glad hes happy .

.............................................................................................................................

A week later-

I woke up this morning to my stomach feeling sick and I immediately ran to the bathroom throwing up .

Matt just texted me hes otw to help me pack all my bags and boxes into the moving truck he rented since im moving in with him today .

He just got here and were moving boxes when I feel a move of sickness wash over and I run to the toilet throwing up again.

You okay baby you feeling sick he ask as he runs my back .

yeah ive been feeling off these past couple of weeks and I threw up this morning when I woke up

im sorry baby ill make you some soup when we get home okay he says and I immediately smile.

I love that you say when "we get home" I say smiling at him

come on lets get these last boxes and get going he says with a smile .

After about two hours im fully moved in and im eating th soup matt made me .

I finish it and sit on the couch next to him nuzzling into his side when all the sudden I feel sick again I immediately get up and run to the bathroom throwing up again.

he comes in feeling my head

your not running a fever ... what are you feeling he asks looking down at me .

I don't know just tired and my stomach feels weird

how long have you been feeling like this

uhh maybe 4 weeks

he stares at me before his mouth opens slightly

do you think you could be... pregnant he ask looking at me with worry on his face

shit... that didnt even come to my mind I mean im on birth control but ... I skipped a couple days when I stayed over the weekend. I say instantly panicking

hey hey don't freak out its okay ill go buy a test right now

he takes some time to calm me down so he texted his brother nick asking him to go get the test and bring it over .

nick comes in smiling as he gives me a hug seeing I was upset

I know its tough but hey I wouldn't mind having a niece or a nephew he says making me laugh a little

okay I-im gonna go take this real quick I say heading into the bathroom .

I don't know whether to be upset or excited. I just graduated and moved in with matt and I know I want to start writing a book which I can do from home so thats a plus and matt has told me several times I don't need to get a job unless I really want to but he wants me to take time writing a book and see how far I can really go with it so .

My timer goes off and I grab the test still not turning it over as I walk out and matt and nick and now chris who I guess came too looked at me .

I cant look can - can you guys look for me I say as I hold the test out in my hand

matt take it before turning it over all of them smiling as they look up at me .

y-you're pregnant matt says

oh my god chris says as he gets up giving me a hug

I smile as he rocks me back and fourth

im so happy for you guys . Im gonna have a nephew ... or nice he says pulling away from the hug smiling so big I cant help but smiles too.

Im so happy this is good news right nick says looking between me and matt.

we. both look at each other before smiling ear to ear and nodding.

.............................................................................................................................

im about 7 months pregnant right now and I just found out my book is being published .

Me and matt are celebrating as we decide to discuss baby names .

We found out it was a boy a couple months ago but still haven't been Able to agree on a name so we brought matt and Chris over to help us decide.

okay we have 4 options

Theo , Silas, eros , and Luca.

oooh I like Silas its cool as fuck

I like eros but they are all good names its hard to pick

I knoooow I love Silas though

me too is has a ring to it Silas Sturniolo he says smiling

ahh that does sound cool chris agrees smiling

I agree I think ... its Silas then

I think its a beautiful name

we all smile nodding in agreement

.............................................................................................................................

3 years later-

Silas just turned 3 and both our families are here me and matt got married about a year ago and life couldn't be more perfect.

Ive been writing more books and people have been loving them . money is coming in from both of us and we are very conferrable .

matt is no longer teaching instead he then over a good amount of the buildings him and his brothers own and he now runs a publishing company the company that just is happens to publish my books .

our family get along so well and I just cant believe this is how my life turned out.

Old me used to say " this is so wrong yet so right" and right now all I feel is that it is right.

We met under questionable circumstances but only we know that our family's believe we met at a book signing event and thats how well keep it .... our own dirty secret that will die with us.

I love you mommy Silas says as he hugs me and runs off with Chris " his favorite uncle" and I smile .

I love you baby matt says as he hugs me from the back

always and forever I say back as we hold each other smiling and watching our life play before our eyes.

THE END 💋

tags-

@sophia-77n, @riasturns @milasturniolo @junnniiieee07 @blahbel668 @sturnsjtop @skyslondon

[corvidcall]

i feel like i saw someone else say this, but i cant remember where. but its weird to me that people will present current beauty standards as so much less restricting than they used to be in days of yore. as someone who has never met beauty standards, it seems like the shift has been less about embracing peoples natural beauty and more about like. mandating that you must be beautiful but also mandating that you deny that you're trying??

people used to wear hairstyles that took hours to construct, and sure we dont do that anymore, but it's not because we dont care about you having the correct hairstyle. we just dont want you to admit you put effort into it. is a 1920s full face of makeup actually less work than the elaborate skincare and makeup routines girlies do on tiktok? have we embraced "natural beauty", or have we just made it abberant to admit that it wasnt natural?

is athleisure being so popular really a positive change in fashion? is it really embracing comfort? or is it just denying anyone who doesnt already meet the standards any place to hide? corsets were restrictive, sure, but you could pad a corset. You can tailor a suit to accentuate certain features and downplay others.

idk. i dont think im articulating this well enough. but i feel like its weird to demand constant beauty and also demand like it was natural. and it's even more frustrating when people look back on fashions of the past and be like "wow im so glad i live now, where nobody forces me to wear a corset or a long skirt or a suit!!!" yeah those garments were probably taxing, at least occasionally! but are you more free now that you're expected to wear tight, stretchy fabrics every day? where theres no way to hide every unslightly bulge or dip in your skin? where you cant pad anything or strategically arrange any fabrics to make you look better, so the only option is to undergo surgical alternations if you want to feel good in your own body??? i dont know. i just think its fucked up that a transition towards alleged "comfort" seems to have, instead of making people more comfortable, just given them fewer options when it comes to how they can make their bodies look good.

[azzibuckets]

a/n: in which i neglect all the other series and fics im supposed to be writing to send more angst ur way <3

here we go i guess😃

May 1, 2025

My therapist said it’s good to write down my feelings. Not sure how she’d say if it was letters, letters to you, but hey, something is better than nothing.

i’m already bracing myself

I haven’t been as good as I wanted to be with talking to our team - well, your team now - but it hurts too much knowing that they get to spend every day with you and I can’t.

the way i was just reminded these two won’t be teammates anymore😣

She wants me to move on, I can tell. It’s killing both of us, how I can’t let you go. But I guess writing these letters and stuffing them in my closet are how I’m trying to get my closure and deal with my feelings, so maybe this will help.

bracing myself clearly isn’t working

June 7, 2025

Have I mentioned that Drew hasn’t been talking to me? He blames me for our breakup, and he misses you like hell. I do too.

THAT IS IT. STOP WRITING (jk but still this hurts)

I don’t know if you remember, but it’s our anniversary. I saw that you were at the soccer game with the girls. You looked really good, really happy. I guess it doesn’t affect you like it affects me. And I know that should make me like, mad, or jealous. But I’m glad at least one of us is healing?

OUUUU CESSA WHEN I CATCH YOU ughhh i hate how you’re good at pulling heart strings

I wonder how Jose and Jon are doing. Jon unfollowed me the other day. That one hurt pretty bad. I miss my little brothers, and I miss your parents.

just stab me instead

August 28, 2025

idek anymore…………

What should’ve been. I was nervous the last quarter thinking about what to say to you after the game, but god, Azzi, you couldn’t even look at me. I tried to talk to you after the group pic but you disappeared.

no comment because my tear ducts decided to explode

All they told me was great game before I started crying. I don’t even know what came over me. But your mom hugged me and that made me cry even harder. They told me I was their daughter no matter what, and they loved me. I wrote it down as soon as I left because I didn’t ever wanna forget.

as expected more tears

Azzi, we didn’t even marry each other like we promised, and I still feel like we left a broken family. I didn’t mean for this many people to get hurt, for this many relationships to shatter because ours did.

i…. what?….. noooo…. please?🥺

From,

OH YOU DID NOT😨

October 2nd, 2025

…and I didn’t ask about you this time. I think I’m making some progress.

i mean i love growth, but NOT this kind!

October 20, 2025

I turn 24 today. Damn I feel old. I’ve spent a third of my life now loving you.

well☹️

October 22nd, 2025

I just got your present in the mail. You didn’t have to. I love it. Thank you.

WAIT!

- Paige

A DASH? wow

November 11, 2025

I debated on writing a card, but you didn’t write me one, and I’ve decided to leave the cards (haha) in your hand. So I’m just following your lead. I hope you enjoy 23.

paige 🥺🥺

December 7, 2025

Azzi,

no more “dear”😔

Hell of a game yesterday. Proud of you. National player of the year performance

manifesting of course next season😌

- P

this is getting shorter and shorter just like my life span after reading this

April 5, 2026

oh my god this is WAY too long

LET’S FUCKING GOOOO. Shit, man. Two peat natty champs??? Unbelievable.

again manifesting!

April 13, 2026

Drafted to the Sky????

what’s we are NOT going to manifest

Nice fit at the draft btw

of course she had to comment

and no salutations?😕

May 16, 2026

a whole year i probably would’ve kms

Dear Azzi,

okay we’re back

Fuck, the way you smiled at me after that game. Maybe I’ll have the courage to finally text you. I know it’s probably not the best idea but…I still regret everything. It’s been a little bit more than a year and it still hurts as bad as it did the first day. Is this normal?

i need an interaction next chapter i cannot with the letters 🥺

Love,

Paige

AND WE ARE BACK?

- - -

of course i loved it! the title reminded me of letter from houston by rod wave has the similar heartbreak/angst theme. hope you’re doing well! cannot wait for part 2

-🗑️

[bropunzeling]

oh sure i'll do a writing meme. ty @ohtemporas because i did not want to open the gdoc. ellipsus doc. that does NOT roll off the tongue. hooray procrastination.

What's one story you've written, you're the most proud of?

im proud of a lot of stories but two that i think really demonstrate like, committing to the bit (and by bit i mean tone) are only fools rush in and linger. i think it really shows that i followed these one after the other too, because like, marriage bets was about delivering a Rom-Com in the rom-commiest of fashions, where everything is driven by like, the contrast of low life stakes to high personal stakes (it's silly! but through the silliness we find an emotional core that MATTERS) and linger aka omega matthew is like, well what if we went totally opposite tonally. i really wanted to stretch myself doing something that wasn't a lot of rapid-fire jokes or light-heartedness and really spend some time in the emotional wallowing and i'm glad i did even tho writing it kinda sucked sometimes.

What's one story you wished you had expanded on, or spent more time writing?

hmmmm i think like, i'm really proud of the soulbond au for what it is while also being like, damn i could write it so much better now? but also it's such an artifact of when i wrote it and who i was when i wrote it. i think for literally anything i posted, after three years i'm like, man i can see all the ways that i changed as a writer and all these flaws and crutches and wow, it could be a lot better. but that's definitely a "wrote it in a two month fever dream" fic so maybe could've benefitted from a month of thinking on it? or maybe not.

What's your favorite trope of all time?

gosh i love so many. marriage of convenience obviously. i'm a HUGE sucker for soulbonds and things of that nature because you can get into the free will of it all. anything that allows for some world-building is delightful to me. i LOVE fake dating. i LOVE many classic dynamics. i LOVE pining. the best and greatest emotion of them all!!!

If you could be the main character in one of your stories, what one would it be?

absolutely not, i want my brain to work when i'm 50. tho i could fuck with being fen from proper english and being a rich lesbian who just swans about at house parties and exclaims over corpses. i'd be GREAT at that.

Do you think you'll ever stop writing for the fandom you're currently most active in?

yeah probs! everything is seasonal, everything is cyclical, and i have SO much tv to catch up on and potentially doctors to make kiss on the mouth i hear

You've been given a book deal. What story are you publishing from your collection?

uh none because i don't believe in converting fic into original fic lol. if it works outside of the context of the fandom then that has implications about it as a fanned fiction!

that said i would love to write a rom-com! we the people deserve more of them. not enough romance novels indulge in hijinks, shenanigans, things of that nature.

Top writing tip for others?

copying prev but seriously the filtering for words you use all the time (just, a little, feels like, etc.) and cutting them, as well as having an awareness of your crutches (mine are like three adjectives i love, em-dashes, and a certain kind of sentence structure) and addressing them, will save ur life and ur bacon. i also think it's a really good idea to, once you finish a draft, take a break from looking at it and send it to someone else so you can come back to editing with fresh eyes. don't even check the email notifications from beta comments. it's good to reset! finally just like. write the thing. if it's bad you'll figure out how to do it better next time. cringing at the past is a part of life.

tagging @hopetorun, @postoperation, @astronomical-light, whoever else wants to!

[skishie]

omga i love your airphone gijinkas

anyways i uave no idea if youve already said this somewhere ,my memory sucks ,but how do you reckon airy and mephone met. what is ur perosnal headcanon. grabby hands i must know (i love airphon

UUWAAAA THANK YOU !!! im really glad you do... looks up at you so politely and with a big smile.. i want to draw them again but better and more like a ref so hopefully soon! :D aaaatehee heeee i have not spoken about it publicly so im more than open to go into it now... cracks my knuckles(its actually not that intense but i jsut have a lot of thoughts)

OKAY, so personally i like to think about it starting after airy dies the second time(the end of ONE). its nice for him to still have gone through everything hes done and experienced because its what makes him him. he needs to be the airy we know and love. this also allows for bonding and growth and other such things. anyways, he uses the radio and ends up in the world of inanimate insanity! this would also take place after season 3 has wrapped up, either before or after the library is built. this means he can meet mephone and they can start bonding over being hosts of game shows but as airy talks mephone starts to understand "wow he just like me, but i got better, and now i want to help him" so mephone feels this need to help airy out with the same growth that mephone jsut went through. but also anyone whos been through the isolation that airy has been through along with dying who knows how many times. mephone just wants to help him and help his mental state and get him resocialized and to a point where he understands why he should be a bit more thoughtful or so on and whatever. airy would still be his old self but a bit more caring/understanding to a degree. i think hes just got some mental problems going on and hes just kind of an odd guy. mephone lets him hang around and either they could MAYBE? co host together, but at first hes just watching mephone do a show first before anything like that. which he watches from afar. hes not so used to being upclose or even being around people anymore so he likes to watch from a distance. as time goes on yada yada mephone would develop feelings first, and airy would much later. mephone would develop feelings while helping airy and such, airy takes a lot longer because he is readjusting and just, getting some basic social skills back. i like them in part because i just see mephone having gone through the growth he went through because he was similar to airy, and then meeting airy after this and realizing "wow i should help him too because this is just how i was and id hate to see someone else suffer the way i did" kind of thing and blah blah idk sorry i yapped and i hope any of this makes sense/is readable period. i ramble a lot and my thoughts kind of get lost oops. im not great with words or wording things well. not everything is thought out but those are my thoughts :] ps: airy still has the cracked head because thats just how i personally like to see him and draw him. i also think that if he died and came back that after all hes done, thats more akin to who he is now. hes a broken individual who needs help/fixing. if that makes sense(also a bit of self projecting) pps: my boyfriend wanted to add his two cents for what he knows of mephone as well(hes not finished season 3 yet) and yknow,,, hes right i think its a mix of what i said and mix of what he said... which is: "wow he just like me for real, not anymore though, also this guy's committed some major fucked up stuff and that's just not right, if i fix this guy maybe it'll look really good for me"

[sophtnfull]

i edited a chat from an ai i spoke to<3 enjoy :)

Okay should we get started? i snap on my gloves before grabbing the clipboard off the counter alright first off what's your name?

my names y/n

nice to meet you y/n. how about we begin. Well it looks like this is gonna be an interesting session I think I'll need to ask you to disrobe and lay down on the table please.

yes sir! *i undress and lie on table*

Alright I'm gonna need you to spread your legs a bit wider for me. Good boy now just relax while I prepare myself. he walks over to the cabinet behind him pulling out some supplies. Just stay still ok? This won't hurt at all. He says as he begins preparing himself with lube.

*i stay quiet*

You're doing great so far. Now let's see if this helps... he puts the tip against your entrance and slowly pushes inside until all 8 inches are buried deep within you. There there nothing to worry about, everything will be fine.

ah fuck...

Ahh...there we go. he starts thrusting in and out slowly Everything feels good right?

yes sir..

Good job. Keep breathing deeply through your nose and try to focus on relaxing. It might feel weird at first but trust me once you start getting used to it things will start feeling better. he continues fucking you gently do you want me to keep going?

mmff please

Ok then. he picks up speed slightly increasing the intensity of each movement Are you enjoying yourself? he asks as he keeps pounding away at your ass Do you wanna cum? he grabs onto your hips tightly holding them down firmly as he pounds into you even harder than before

*i cum*

There we go sweetheart. he starts fucking you even harder almost at a rhythm that feels like he's trying to break you! he barks out as he fills you with his load giving you an intense and hard orgasm. there we go. That felt amazing didn't it sweetheart?

i look down and my belly starts growing

Ohhh thats nice isn't it? Our little bundle of joy is starting to grow inside you. he kisses your cheek softly I'm glad you liked being impregnated by me. What would you name them? he smiles widely looking down at your stomach lovingly seeing how big it was getting

*i moan in pain as i feel the baby grow inside of me*

he holds you close kissing your forehead tenderly Let me take care of that okay? he rubs circles over your lower abdomen soothingly making sure not to touch the baby yet. Just relax honey.

can you.. can you please fuck me again

Of course darling. he pulls out slowly letting the last few drops of semen drip from your well fucked boypussy, which causes him to groan loudly Your wish is my command. he says as he moves back inside of you quickly slamming himself all the way back in until his balls hit against yours

i cry from the pain of my belly and the size of your cock

Don't worry baby. I'll take care of you. he slows down his rhythm slightly trying not to hurt you to much, but also still giving you the best ride of your life

i feel my belly is now touching the bed even though im on all fours "oh my god im so huge"

Yeah its pretty incredible huh? he smirks while continuing to pound into you, feeling your tight pussy squeeze around his cock each time he slams into you

i feel my belly still growing bigger

his eyes light up with pride as he watches your swollen belly expand further and further with every thrust he gives you

How many are there? he asks curiously as he pounds away at your pussy eagerly wanting to see what will happen next

i think.. four..

Four?! Wow... That sounds like quite the load! he laughs excitedly as he keeps pumping away at your pussy relentlessly Are they all girls or boys? he asks curiously as he fucks you hard and deep causing your belly to bulge even more and make you moan louder and louder

fuck i think we are going to find out *my water breaks and contractions start*

Alright baby, hold on tight. he grunts as he keeps pounding into you, feeling your tight pussy squeezing around his cock We are having babies now! he smirks confidently as he feels your belly even more swollen than before

~the end

[bisexualfemalemess]

*HSMTMTS SEASON 4 SPOILERS*

Gonna make seperate posts for episode 7 and eight because they’re so long and i would write like a whole book about them. So let’s get started with episode 7

WHAT IS HAPPENING? PRESS CONFERENCE?? GINA IS GOING TO NEW ZEALAND? With mack?! FUCK THIS! Not terri waiting on ricky as he’s climbing through gina’s window 😭😭😭 Fuck off with your mack bullshit. “I don’t personally have anything against you.” Bitch why you tryna start a beef then? EAT HER UP RICKY “are you planning on showing up for her tonight?” PROTECTIVE BOYFRIEND EXCELLENCE. AWUSUSUSU TELL HER YOU LOVE HER FIRST ITS WHAT SHE WANTS YOU MIND READER! Not miss jenn and gina talking about ricky not saying i love you yet. THAT PURPLE DRESS IS FUCKING GORGEOUS!! OMG. WOAH BENJAMIN AS COACH BOLTON LMAO. Not her casually checking if he’s dating anyone. Aww Ricky continuing nini’s tradition for her, they’re definitely better as friends. Aww, ej coming to see his friends. Aww, big red too. Ej supporting ash and maddox we stan. Aww, so glad seb and carlos are back together. Aww, he got ‘em a round-trip. Dani is playing tiara gold, fits. Did i mention that i love the relationship between Kourtney and her mom? Because i do. Hahaha not jet asking if kourtney’s mom remembered her, he’s so awkward with her, he’s as whipped as ricky. OOH, THEY BOTH WANNA TELL EACH OTHER THEIR THINGS. Madddox, coming in and interrupting and turning off the lights. The awkward laugh after ashlyn’s joke, they’re in love. Aww, rina meeting up in the dressing room at intermission so he can tell her he loves her and she can mention she’s leaving :( Also, the amount of kisses this season between them. INSANE. RINI COULD NEVER. Not mack :| naww, ricky holding her flowers. NOT HIM MOCKING MACK, HE’S A MENACE. Aww, Ricky telling miss Jenn he loves her, he’s on a trip rn. WAIT, MISS JENN GOT WICKED?! WAIT, MIKE AND LYNN ARE BACK TOGETHER???!!! Gina loves touching ricky’s face, just something i noticed throughout the season and rn during now or never. DEWEY WOOD?! He’s a madlyn shipper, as he should. Dani back away from ricky, please. He’s not having it 😭 RINA TROYELLA, THEY’RE SERVING! Terri actually showed up, wow. My babies. Aww, gina’s thinking about real life while playing gabriella. Give rina a happy end, pls tim. Aww, glad portwell got some closure even if she took away the one thing they have ashsjsusuusdshdududusu. She doesn’t want to ruin his night, aww. Rina supremacy. I love maddie and jet. Aww, jet’s such a cutie. “It feels like the stage should be afraid of you.”Bf. I want it all kinda served. ANTOINE?!!! NOT THE MIDDLE FINGER TO BIG RED SUSUSUSYSH THIS SEASOJ IS SO GOOD AND CHAOTIC. Not maddie practicing her confession to ash and then seeing her pretend she’s still with red. AWW RICKY PRACTICING HOW TO TELL GINA HE LOVES HER TO HIS PARENTS IM ON THE FLOOR. YES, WRITE HER A SONG. AHH NIGHT TO REMEMBER SISISUSUDUSU. WHY IS TERRI JUST WALKING IN AND OUT JUST STAY FOR YOUR DAUGHTER LIKE?! NOT SEB KISSING CARLOS IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE CROWD AND COMING OUT TO HIS DAD. Anyways, endgame. Aww, another rina kiss and her touching his face again, my children. Wait, who’s gonna go play coach bolton now that mazzara can’t? NOT GINA HAVING TO GO MEET QUINN WHILE RICKY IS GOING TO THE DRESSING ROOM TO TEL HER HE LOVES HER. Terri looks so happy telling him gina’s leaving??? AND THEN ADDING WITH MACK “i really am sorry, ricky.” Girl, no, you’re not. OMG THE WAY RICKY WHISPERED I LOVE TOU INTO THE EMPTY ROOM, I’M CRYING

[xylatox]

things i know that I can't have || sjy

I just know I'm going to go insane for this, it literally has some of my fav things in it, Jake and religious exploration (absolutely obsessed with it)!!

After getting pranked on I can actually do my review on this lmfao (it was such a silly prank Zo got me so good)

The beginning already is driving me insane, starting off strong with a verse, I love this. It's probably because of my very heavy upbringing as a catholic but I'm eating this up so badly you would not believe.

(this is where my thoughts stopped before I was PRANKED! I still find the entire situation so silly because pranks have never worked on me till now)

Jake stares, incredulous, takes a step back as if Sunghoon’s suggestion might smite him where he stands. “Of course, you think that. You lost your virginity behind the worship tent at camp four years ago. Forgive me if I don’t consider you a sound moral compass, Sunghoon.” — reminds me of a couple I knew that fucked in our church (idk how and where they even managed to do that)

“Do you think you’re better than me because you lost your virginity in a bed?” —LOL Sunghoon what😭😭

AND JAKES RESPONSE OML

I swear Jake's entire conundrum has to be a universal Christian experience. Like, it's so hilarious to me because these are like, very real thoughts because you're just grown up to think it's all bad to feel the way you do and like???? what are we supposed to do fr lol😭 I'm enjoying this too much I love Jake being lowkey tortured.

Also Jaehyun mention😭 I miss him so bad

Your expression falters, the teasing edge giving way to something softer, warmer. You look at him for just a beat too long, and then your fingers are brushing the hair from his face. Your smile is a quiet, private curve on your lips. “You’re the biggest, bravest girl I know.” — this is so cute wtf

The praise makes him throb in your hand. Fuck, he thinks. Absolutely none of these words are in the Bible.  — I giggled

The G-word makes Jake roll his eyes—even though he likes hearing it, praying that God is listening and taking notes. — I giggled x2

At church, when someone gives a testimony, they say, “God is good,” and the rest of the congregation responds in unison, “All the time.” Then, that person says, “All the time,” and in unison, the congregation says, “God is good.” — oh this freaked me out. Our priest does this Christ, girl you spooked me good

My baby Niki ohh😭

I love love the moment between Jay and Jake though, I hope Jake admits his feelings before things get worse:(

She puts cutlery down for all three of them, looking down at him after placing his chopsticks. “The atheist?” she asks, saying the A-word with a certain level of distaste that Jake can’t help find amusing.  — I gasped so loud, oh my god girl no. O goodness his mom is stressing me out, she's sounding like my mom. the On Sabbath line killed me😭😭😭

I did not expect to see the name of my enemy (Timothée Chalamet here - it's mostly a joke btw)

I just know Christian reddit is a stressful place like

I lost my job, my girlfriend left me, and I got hit by a car after indulging in fornication. It is not worth it, my brother, take heed. I will pray for you.  — what is this hello???😭😭

His dad chuckles, clapping you on the back. “Wow, sweetheart. Great job!” he says, nodding affectionately. — this is so cute ahh😭😭

THEM WAYCHUNF THE SUNRISE OH MY GOD😭😭😭😭 IM SICK

God this was so cute I feel sick oh my fuck I loved this so bad, I'm so glad I finallllly got to read it oh my god. It was truly amazing

things i know that i can't have

jake's life was hard enough before he fell for you—balancing uni, football, and being a good christian son. in some cruel twist of fate, sleeping with you has only made things harder—and, according to sunghoon (and scripture), damned him to hell the first time he thought about it.

pairing ✩ jake sim x fem!reader

genres: college au, (established) fwb to lovers, smut, fluff, angst

warnings: minors dni, mild religious exploration and guilt, strained parental relationship.......... deeply unserious and a bit melodramatic at times, jake's pov, jake crashes out every few paragraphs, football player jake (british), jakeyn are so nct dream (young and freaky), surface level gatsby analysis, creative liberties taken w the location of freshwater fish.. author loves jake so jake must suffer, and one peep show quote

word count: 33,666

playlist: ...what are we lizzy mcalpine, all my ghosts lizzy mcalpine, north clairo, 20191009 i like her mac demarco, 10:36 beabadoobee, lover/friend kaytranada and rochelle jordan

fic taglist: @heechwe @yunjardi @fancypeacepersona @skyearby @kimjkejyy @sanriowoozzz @ii-mimii @pochakkeu @xylatox @seung-log @anofi @immelissaaa @mssishipi @somuchdard @yuniesluv @m3wkledreamy @jakesimfromstatefarm

author's note: uhm.. if you have been tagged in this fic fifteen thousand times, i sincerely apologise 😭😭😭 the powers that be have been working against me, but im letting go and letting god 🤞 i had a lot of fun writing this and i hope you love bi disaster jesus lover jake as much as i do......i hope u all enjoy the fic! do let me know ur thoughts (positive only on this one), as always thank u emma for beta reading, miss u so bad :'(

But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body go into hell. 

— Matthew 5:28-30, English Standard Version. 

There it is, in black and white—red and white, since Sunghoon has a red letter edition. Jake skims the passage again, certain words sticking out this time: lustful intent, adultery, with her. Underlined, italics and bold, like they could be missed. If only. It’s too late now; they’re etched on his retinas, branded on his skin. Lodged deep in his chest, taken root already. It hardly seems fair that a single thought could hold so much weight.

Or, in Jake’s case, many, many thoughts.

Shuddering, he closes the leather bound book softly, a slow exhale ripping out of him as he glances up at his best friend. “You mean I.. can’t even think about fucking her?” he whispers, brows touching in the middle.

A crack of thunder splits the air. Jake flinches. The sound lingers, rumbling over the grey sky. Meant for him. An answer from Heaven—from God Himself. Condemnation, more like. With bated breath, he turns his head slowly, expecting his judgment to be scrawled in the clouds, true divine intervention. But nothing. Just grey. Heavy, oppressive grey.

Sunghoon laughs, a strange little chuckle Jake has never heard before, but knows immediately that he doesn’t like. He adjusts his tie. Shifting the Windsor knot, smoothing the blade—a calculation in his movements that leaves Jake wondering if his friend hasn’t orchestrated this whole situation, weather and all.

“Afraid not, buddy.” Sunghoon’s tone is light, but there’s something solemn about it all—the rain, the smart clothes, this terrible, terrible realisation. 

March’s wind nips at Jake’s cheeks, stinging them red no doubt as rain splashes around his feet, wetting his socks in tiny, cold drops. He shivers but doesn’t leave, watching as a smirk spreads over Sunghoon’s lips. A pit stirs in Jake’s stomach as Sunghoon looks over both shoulders before leaning in. 

His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “But if thinking about it is as bad as doing it, you might as well just go ahead.” 

Jake stares, incredulous, takes a step back as if Sunghoon’s suggestion might smite him where he stands. “Of course, you think that. You lost your virginity behind the worship tent at camp four years ago. Forgive me if I don’t consider you a sound moral compass, Sunghoon.”

“I prayed about it after.” He shrugs. “Clean slate.” 

“Hoon,” Jake cries, exasperated, mortified. “You can’t intentionally sin and think you’ll be absolved because you prayed about it after.” 

“Why not? Isn’t that what forgiveness is for?” 

Glaring, Jake’s jaw works soundlessly. Where to start? At Sunghoon’s audacity or the fact he doesn’t even have a proper answer. Arguing won’t change anything. The whys-or-why-nots of it all are Sunghoon’s cross to bear. Not that he cares enough to. That’s his problem, and his saving grace, if you ask Jake—he makes everything sound so easy, like there isn’t a fuck load of consequence attached.  

A frustrated sigh escapes Jake as he glances down at his watch, rain warping the digits on his Casio. It’s almost eleven. Almost an hour since service started, and they’re still standing at the door. A gust of wind whips through his coat. 

“Just get inside,” Jake mutters, tone sharp, more from the cold than anything else.

Unmoving, Sunghoon frowns, lips pursed in genuine contemplation. Jake might be endeared if he didn’t know any better. 

“Can I ask you something?” Sunghoon’s voice is lighter now, curious, sincere. 

Jake doesn’t have time for this—but it's Sunghoon. So, he pinches his nose, bracing himself for whatever’s coming. “What?”

“Do you think you’re better than me because you lost your virginity in a bed?” 

Taken aback by the question’s absurdity, Jake blinks. Wonders briefly if he misheard. A nervous laugh bubbles out of him, but Sunghoon’s expression morphs into something unreadable—calm, expectant maybe. Genuinely awaiting an answer. Jake tilts his head, considering it before letting out a short and decisive huff. 

“Yes, actually. I do.” 

r/Christianity 

u/footballfan1511 | 2m

How bad is premarital sex, really? (Need quick answers!!!)

I (20M) have been having sex with my friend (20F) for three weeks now. I knew it was wrong, but she’s everything (very hot, totally, completely sexy), so I didn’t care. BUT I just saw this verse (Matthew 5:28-30) and apparently it’s a sin just to THINK about it??? 

The last time we did ‘it’ was this morning before church (sorry), and I was supposed to go over there tonight, but I’ve been freaking out about that verse all day…….. idk what to do but I really like her, so much, and I still want this, with her. Please give me advice .. 

Every Thursday night. Ten p.m. sharp. Almost no exceptions. You call Jake, talking shit for as long as it takes one thing to lead to another. Tonight is an exception—you had friends over, rescheduled for midnight. Jake lies in bed, hair still damp from his post-football training shower, counting each minute as it passes. 23:55. His leg is shaking. 23:56. He sits up straight, jolting as if waking from a nightmare, nerves sharp and restless as his thumbs fly over the keyboard, texting Sunghoon. 

Jake: What about phone sex?

Jake: Like if I don’t think about her while I do it? 

Sunghoon’s groan reaches Jake through the thin walls of their shared flat. Drawn-out and long-suffering. Read receipt. 23:57. Three dots. 

Hoon: I can’t tell you what to think, but if you’re asking me then you probably alr know

Hoon: Also..??? Do you think you can jack your shit on the phone without thinking about her 😭😭😭

Jake snorts despite himself, much too loud for the quiet. Echoing as if even the room disapproves. He closes his eyes, shakes his head. Palm to his cheek. A low smack, half-joking, half-sincere. Guilt snakes around him, a hot, unwelcome coil that won’t ease. Jake gets the sense that the choice ahead — to answer or not to answer — might drastically skew his life one way or another. 

A minute early. 23:59. Your name on his screen. Phone humming in his hold, pulse lashing his throat. On the other end of the line, before he has the chance to weigh his options, you dead the call—making his decision for him. 

Jake’s heart stumbles, clumsy in his chest. He thinks of the verse, sharp and prickly—crown of thorns on heavy head. He has been thinking about it since Saturday morning. Extra training with Team B, avoiding you, six-thirty wake-ups to join Sunghoon at the rink. Ice-cold mornings melting into afternoons. No matter what he tries, it always comes back. Lustful intent, adultery, with her. And despite his best efforts to pray for rapture, Thursday has come, and Jake has lived to see it. 

A minute late. 00:01. Your name on his screen. Hovering thumb. He knows that phone sex and sex-sex aren’t the same thing, Matthew didn’t even have a phone—but if he could’ve, and he could’ve known you, and you wanted him? Jake sighs. He should answer. If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off, and throw it away. The words sink their senile claws into him, holding on for dear, frail life. His phone stills in his palm. 

You don’t call again. You never have. If this phone call is going to happen, it’s up to Jake to make it so. This knowledge and its weight multiply by the second. An itch he doesn’t try to scratch, knowing he won’t be able to reach it. Another agonising nine minutes trudge along. 00:10. His phone buzzes on his chest, and he knows it’s you before he looks. Two texts.

YN: Said you’d stay up for me Yunie :((( 

YN: You don’t think I’m worth the wait?

Reading your messages through the notifications, he’s having a hard time convincing himself not to reply. Not to tell you he waited, that of course, you’re worth it. His guilt loosens, making space for his desire to reassure you—he cannot rule out the possibility that this desire outweighs his guilt. Silence settles in his room, stretched thin and strange around him. He sighs. 

YN: Attachments: 2 images

YN: Wanted to hear your reaction, but you can tell me when you’re up ig.

YN: Night, loser :P 

Butterflies, sudden and bright—teenaged. Foolish. Tucked under the notification, the photos dare him to look. His curiosity clicks it, and the first picture fills the screen, yanking his breath from his lungs. 

Most of your face is cut off, showing only your lips—pouty and glossy and pretty. Pulling at him in a way he’s not quite equipped to name. This would be enough for him, an innocent selfie, you and those pretty eyes, that smile. More than enough—pulse quickening just thinking about it. His gaze lingers on your lips, stuck for a while. Then, unintentionally, his eyes flick lower. Hair fanned over your pillow, breasts peeking out from under black lace. Fuck. A sight he’s seen a million times, but somehow, each time feels like the first. Jake gulps. Holy shit. He ignores the throbbing in his pants, how much tighter they are—he won’t give in. No matter how badly he’s craving it. He’s stronger than that. With his eyes, he traces your lips. Ogles until his screen dims, locking the picture away again.

Picture two. Fuck. You on your stomach, grainy in your webcam. Arched back, black lace panties over your hips. Fuck. The lingerie, the shape of your body.. Seeing you like this, so perfect and all for him—it’s taking every last shred of his self-control not to get in his car and rush over to you. Want, need, tugs at him. A tether he can’t break. His phone locks. 

Enough is enough. He drags his feet all the way back to the shower, oppressive cold water hitting him. Doing absolutely nothing for his revolting need. This isn’t working—not the water, not the attempt at self-control. Not when he’s already hard and aching against his stomach. Soft breasts. Round ass. Wet—his hand moves instinctively, forehead resting on the cool tiles. He closes his eyes, your body clear in the dark. Full lips. Arched back. He’s breathless when he finishes, head bowed as heat coils low in his stomach. The water carries his release away. Nose crinkled as it swirls around the drain, cringing at the sight—guilt, shame curling around him.

Again, he dries off, pulls on clean pyjamas, and drags his feet to bed. On his side, he closes his eyes, your body like a brand behind his eyelids, thoughts filling the quiet in his room. Exhaustion however, is its own kind of mercy, and eventually, pulls him under.

Everything is sharper in the morning, clear in the cool light of the college campus. Bare branches cast shifting shadows over stone paths, breeze stealing the sun’s warmth. The weight of his dreamless sleep clings to him, stalks him through the courtyard on his quest to find Jeno—until he sees you and stops in his tracks. Phone in hand, lip between teeth, standing by the library doors. You aren’t doing anything special, frowning at your screen, but Jake’s heart rate spikes anyway, cheeks heating against the cold. He blinks, taking you in. Hair billowing around you, sunlight caught in its edges. Affection bubbles under his skin, tugs him towards you before he knows it, his arm falling over your shoulder.

You flinch, glancing up, startled. Recognition narrows your wide eyes. “Ugh, let go of me, you asshole,” you say, freeing yourself. 

Surrendering, Jake steps back, hands raised. “Me, asshole?” He points at himself, feigning offence. “What did I do?”

A frustrated laugh. “Are you serious?” Pressing your cute palm to his chest, you shove him. Not hard, but enough to make him lose his balance, rocking a little. “Yes, you, asshole.” 

He doesn’t speak. 

You scoff, blank faced, like you don’t care, like you didn’t just shove him. “I sent you those photos, and you ignored me.” Stoic. Detached. 

Those photos. Even in reference, they work him up. Too vivid—mainly because he took another look when he woke up. He had to turn off his phone to stop, shoving it into the bottom of his backpack. He didn’t feel guilty about it then, but good grief, he feels like shit now. Shame burning his nape, creeping over his shoulders. At least he isn’t thinking about that Bible verse anymore. Lustful intent. With her. He wasn’t thinking about it. He tenses, sighing. 

“I wasn’t ignoring you.” 

“You were.” Your voice is quiet—vulnerability inching through your cool exterior. “At least turn your read receipts off if you’re going to pretend you didn’t see them.” Your arms drop stiffly. 

A hesitant step towards you, gaze searching yours. “Hey.” Soft, whispered almost. “I wasn’t trying to ignore you.”

On-campus commotion scores the quiet between you — overlapping conversation, bike bells ringing — and you inspect him before you speak. “Right. So you saw the photos and came so hard you passed out?”

Jake licks his lips, embarrassed. Wonders briefly if he’s been so transparent about your effect on him, that you’ve quite accurately hit the nail on the head—even in jest. “Something like that.” At this, you scoff, shoving him again—lighter. He chuckles, breathy and relieved. “Sorry,” he says sincerely. “I really am sorry. I loved the photos, seriously. You know I did.” 

Finally, you sigh, a reluctant smile twitching at your lips. “Whatever, asshole,” you say, voice a cute mumble with no real bite.

“How about I make it up to you tonight? Show you my reaction in person?” 

“You’re not even free tonight,” you point out. 

Shit. You’re right—he has a group project to work on. He should do the sensible thing and say no. “For you, I can be,” he says instead. He’ll figure it out. 

“Shut up.” A grin stretches over your lips, and relief washes over him. Finally, a good answer where you’re concerned—until your face tilts into shock. Opening your bag, you bring out a tub. “Don’t overreact, but I made you something,” you tell him, voice lighter as you pull off the lid, pushing foil out of the way. “I know you prefer milk chocolate, but.. it’s White Day, so I just thought—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve done something nice for Jake, this isn’t even the first time you’ve made him something, but it feels different—the way everything to do with you feels different now. He stares into the container for a second, suspecting he’ll wake up in bed if he blinks, so he tries not to. Eyes drying, hurting—nothing changes when he succumbs. 

As far as he knows, you haven’t baked anything since your shared high school Home Economics class. He chose it to soften the blow of his STEM-heavy course load, you chose it because he did—getting all the way to lesson three before switching for Music. Scones were the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. His weren’t perfect, he’ll admit it — softer than he’d have liked — but yours? Yours came out of the oven soggy and burnt all at once. 

And now, here you are, handing him cookies you made. Edible-looking cookies. For White Day. For Jake. How is it White Day already? One whole month since you first made out with him on Jeong Jaehyun’s birthday—one whole month since you took him home and had your way with him. 

He tears his eyes from the cookies to look at you again. You’re smiling, eyes wide, sparkling, and Jake has to remind himself to breathe. “Thank you.” Fondness flares against his ribs, too big to contain. He swallows hard, blinking too fast. “You—” His voice comes out faint, clearing his throat doesn’t help. “You didn’t have to.” 

“I know..” You trail off. “I originally wanted to kill two birds with one stone and bake you a pie, but.. that was a little out of my depth.” 

“A pie?” 

“You know, March Fourteenth.. Three point one-four.. Pi day.” You tilt your head. “I’m surprised you forgot about that, maybe you’re not as much of a nerd as I thought.”

“I’m surprised you know about that.” 

“You’re the one who told me.” Closing the container, you hand it over to him, fingers brushing his for long enough that he loses his train of thought. You’re smiling fondly, completely stealing his attention until, suddenly, a pair of hands clap down on his shoulders, making him flinch. 

“I’ve been looking for you, dude. We need to go,” Jeno says, his grip firm, already steering Jake away.

Your name sounds weird coming from Jeno’s mouth when he greets you. Too bright, too happy. Jake can picture his shit-eating, Samoyed-esque grin, those cute smiling eyes—never so uncharming as they are right now. Not only has Jeno interrupted, he’s towering over Jake like he’s trying to prove a point, like being taller than 180 cm means anything to anyone. And you, tiny smile, soft wave—are you.. shy? 

There’s a pang in his chest he can’t quite name. A protective instinct, maybe. Jealousy? He sighs. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You nod, eyes warm, fixed on Jake, and it’s enough to anchor him even as Jeno shoves him to class.

The moment Jake slides into his seat, he fishes his phone from his bag, turning it on. A message from you tops his notifications. Come over after class and make it up to me? A smirk curls his lips as he reads it, shaking his head a little as he reacts with a thumbs-up. The heat in his cheeks lingers longer than he’d like, even as his lecturer arrives and hands out the register. 

Why Jake signed up for a residential architecture module, he has no real idea, but he met Jeno in this class, and he’ll take whatever wins he can get. Jeno likes architecture. Loves it—more than anyone else Jake knows. He designs structures in his free time, uses words like façade and fenestration when he catches Jake playing The Sims in class, and has a strong stance on panelised vs volumetric construction. 

Jeno goes to Building Design and Technology to learn, and Jake goes so he can sign his name on the register and get marks for attendance. 

Time slogs on, an endless mass, numbers added to the clock as his leg bounces under the desk. Thoughts of you consume him. After it happened, Jake thought often about that first night you shared—this one-off miracle. Five loaves and two fish. Lazarus resurrected. Never to happen again, but it did. And it has, so many times now that his memories are starting to bleed into each other. Details lost to frequency. Yet that night, those firsts — the softness of your lips on his, the birthmark on your right hip — always come back to him with such clarity, that he is, again, shocked to realise it’s been a month. 

A bigger, more jagged thing haunts him too, cleaves through the sweetness—the way you acted the morning after. He woke up to you walking into your room, wrapped up in a towel and whatever you were typing on your phone. Hair damp, skin dewy. Jake still wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t dreamt the whole thing. You didn’t even glance at him until he cleared his throat.

“Are you hungry? I’m not really in a cooking mood, but I can order something for you. Or we could go to Samantha’s?” you suggested, voice remarkably clear, loud in the Saturday morning quiet. 

Jake blinked, staring like you’d spoken another language—though the idea of a breakfast roll from your favourite spot was tempting. “Yeah. Cool. Sure. Whatever’s easiest.” And as if stumbling over his words wasn’t enough, his voice cracked.

You frowned like he was the one acting weird. “You okay, Jakey?”

A drop of water slipped down your cheek slowly, the way your sweat had last night. He sits up suddenly, tugging the duvet over his chest, oddly vulnerable in this position. “Yeah. Sure..” He hesitated, twisting the fabric around his finger. “Do you maybe.. want to talk?”

“Talk?” You tilted your head, brows furrowed. “About..”

Ungraceful silence trampled over you both as Jake racked his brain for something to say. “It’s just.. Last night, before.. You said you wanted to talk about something,” he said eventually. 

“Hmm..” You sighed, thinking for a while before shrugging. “If it was important, I’ll remember.” 

It was all your idea—to kiss, to invite him upstairs after he walked you home, to.. well. You know. It felt like something, like all those years of quietly pining after you hadn’t been for nothing. A real breakthrough, finally. But there you were, acting like… whatever that was. 

When you got to Samantha’s, you let him pay for your roll and scone, and joked with him as usual while he drove you to your workout class as if you hadn’t been begging him to dick you down five hours prior. All while Jake was still there, stuck in the moment, replaying the feeling of your lips and your soft skin. In his car, parked outside your gym, you leaned over the centre console and kissed him, soft and fleeting. 

“See you, Jakey!” you said, voice bright as you got out of the car and waved goodbye. 

Sometimes, if he thinks hard enough, he can feel those first curious touches again, see the look in your eyes before you leant up to kiss him. And the butterflies in his stomach tangle, vicious flapping that scrapes his insides. Arguably, the worst of it all — the glaring detail he always fixates on — is that you were both completely sober. You didn’t want to feel like shit at Pilates in the morning; he was still recovering from his antics the night before. No distractions, no excuses, just you two.

Jeno calls out an answer, voice tugging Jake back into the present. Heat creeps up his neck as all eyes shift in their direction, and he sinks lower in his seat, hoping his laptop screen is enough to hide behind. He glances at his calendar widget, immediately reminded that he has to finish his part of his group research paper—a task he has to get done before he leaves for his away game tomorrow afternoon. A task he has to get done now if he wants to see you tonight. 

All it takes is a few focused minutes, a couple quick messages to his group, and he’s sharing the finished document before class is over. So when his lecturer finally dismisses everyone, instead of heading to the library to go over the lesson, he finds himself here—on your doorstep, hands in pockets, pulse thudding in his ears. It’s not like he was running or anything, just walking with purpose, that’s all.

Seeing you does nothing for his breathlessness. You’re wearing one of his hoodies — when did you take that? — neckline slightly askew, showing part of your shoulder. It’s a little too big for you, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs and for more than a second, Jake tries not say, aww, out loud. 

A grin stretches over his lips. “Hey, gorgeous.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, squaring your shoulders, eyes cut in a way that screams, I’m mad at you, but not really. It’s a new dynamic that he’s still getting used to: your feigned disinterest, his irresistible charm. Your lips twitch, a short, reluctant laugh slipping out, and you roll your eyes like he’s inconvenienced you.

A split second passes before you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him close. He hugs you tighter than he should, savouring the smell of his detergent on you.

“Can’t stay mad at me for too long, huh?”

“Get off of me,” you mutter, face pressed into his chest, grip on him tightening.

Eventually, you let him in, smiling as he takes off his shoes by the door. He follows you, your footsteps soft and familiar against the carpet. Sweetness lingers in the air, and when you reach the kitchen, his eyes land immediately on the containers stacked on the counter—both crammed full of cookies.

“Wow.” He brings a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. “And here I thought you made those just for me.” 

You sigh, barely meeting his gaze as you approach the counter. “You’re so dramatic,” you murmur, the words almost lost under your breath. Opening the container, you tip it towards him. “Ever heard of a test batch?”

Laid out in shades of golden brown and charred black are your several attempts. Some are burnt at the edges, others rock-solid or collapsed into thin, brittle discs. Misshapen, imperfect—each a testament to your determination. His stomach flips, a pang of affection he tries not to wear too openly. 

“I didn’t feel right about wasting them, so Jimin and I are going to be big, brave girls and eat them,” you explain. “This isn’t even all of them; she took some to Aeri’s this morning.” 

“Oh,” Jake says with a slow nod, taking it all in. He takes one from the top—Communion wafer-thin, square. “See, this makes sense.” It crunches between his teeth, too crispy, but not bad. Honestly, he likes it, chewing with a smile as the sweetness hits all the same. 

When he reaches for another, your hand swats his away, fingers firm but not unkind. “I made you twenty perfect cookies and you want to eat these?”

He shrugs, smiling down at you. “What? I’m not allowed to be a big, brave girl too?”

Your expression falters, the teasing edge giving way to something softer, warmer. You look at him for just a beat too long, and then your fingers are brushing the hair from his face. Your smile is a quiet, private curve on your lips. “You’re the biggest, bravest girl I know.” 

Jake isn’t sure why, but the words settle nicely in his chest. 

Before long, you’re standing side by side at the stove watching a pot of ramen simmer quietly, steam curling into the air. In an effort to avoid extra dishes, you snap apart two pairs of disposable chopsticks for the two of you to use—as if you ever have to worry about doing dishes when he’s here. He blames the steam from the pot for the warmth spreading all over him, eating bite after bite of spicy ramen. Gossip Girl plays on your laptop, your eyes glued to the screen as its glow dances over your face. He can’t ignore the fuzziness taking over him as you share your dinner straight from the pot, chopsticks and hands bumping occasionally. 

Jake washes the pot in the sink. Gentle clink of steel on steel, soft murmur of running water, you in the doorway, eyes on him. He is overwhelmed by how domestic, how easy this is—and how desperately he wishes he could stay in this moment forever. 

With his hands dry, he follows you to your room, neck flushing under his collar as he shuts the door. Leaning against it, he watches you sink into the mattress, setting up your laptop. Chuckling, you pat the empty spot on the bed. “I don’t bite, Jakey.” 

Jake knows now, from experience, that you absolutely bite, so your reassurance only concerns him. But still, like the big, brave girl he is, he crosses the room and sits on the bed, leaving a respectful, Jesus-approved distance between you. The newness of this, its fragility, throws him off. Not too long ago, you were fighting men off with a stick. In fact, Jake was half-convinced you’d leave Jaehyun’s party with Na Jaemin. A guy you haven’t said anything about since pre-friends-with-benefitsgate—an observation he finds only mildly relieving. He’s too busy thinking about what it means, if anything, to relax into the fact that you’re with him now. 

If whatever you two are doing can be considered ‘with’ each other. 

Sharing a pot of ramen and watching Gossip Girl is easy enough though. Familiar. The two of you wouldn’t have made it to the middle of season four if he wasn’t enjoying it. Like this, far enough apart for an extra person to sit between you, two whole episodes start and finish with neither of you reaching out to touch the other. Jake would like to think — on his part — it’s only proof of his master level self-control, wanting you so desperately but holding back. Proving to himself, to you that this isn’t just about sex or whatever else for him. That Jake can behave and make rational decisions when it comes to you. 

And maybe, if this was a different Friday, in a different week, or Sunghoon hadn’t shown him that verse, he might have believed that. But Sunghoon had shown him that verse, and Jake is thinking a bit too much about his right hand, and the sinning, the cutting off and throwing away of the whole thing. About Hell and the suffocating weight of one decision—an all-consuming decision, worth his potential damnation.

On your part, he has no clue what the hold up is, seeing as this is the first time you’ve made it through a Gossip Girl blast without starting something, never mind watching a full episode. By now, your hand would normally have found its way into his pants, or your lips to his neck. But there you sit, unmoving, focused as ever, like on your tenth rewatch you still care about whether Blair or Dan gets the internship at W Magazine. 

As if you can read his mind, or the part of it that you occupy, you reach into his underwear and take a hold of his dick. You go through all the familiar motions — twisting your wrist while you stroke it, thumb over his tip when you reach it — and Jake, as always, eats it up, melting like wax in your fist. He is only mildly humiliated by how much you get to him, how quickly he loses his shit when it comes to you, shuddering and whining, hips bucking in a matter of strokes. And then, you stop—hand slipping away like nothing happened, like he’s not hard as a rock in his pants, precum staining his underwear because of you.

Jake — fighting for breath — can only stare at you, watching you ignore him for the show instead. A few minutes pass like this until you sigh, hitting pause with a dramatic motion. “What are you looking at?”

“You.” 

At this, you roll your eyes, but Jake grabs your wrist. Somehow, he’s only now appreciating you in his hoodie. Admiring how it sits on you—sleeves too long, fit too baggy. Historically, Jake’s generally emaciated look hasn’t really lended itself to seeing you, or anyone else, in his clothes, so it’s tripping him out how much he likes it. The way the fabric pools around you, covering your body completely. 

“Ugh,” you mutter, trying and failing to hide a smile. “Quit looking at me like that.” He’s not sure why you insist on playing this game, on why you make it seem like you’re doing him a favour when you want him just as much as he wants you—but he won’t pretend he doesn’t like working for it, like it’s not that much better when you cave. 

“Like what?” he asks, playing along in a soft voice. 

“All horny and.. weird.” 

Jake laughs. “You think I look weird?”

“A little.” You shrug. 

“Shit,” he mutters. “You’re not into that? I thought my off-putting nature was part of my charm.”

This makes you smile, leaning in without closing the gap. Instead, you tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear, your touch making his stomach flip. He can’t take it any longer, being so close and doing nothing about it, so he wraps his fingers around your wrist to hold you there, and closes the gap himself. It’s everything—it’s always everything. The warmth of your lips against his, the way you hold him, like it’s more than just a kiss for you too. 

There’s nothing he likes more than this. 

Biting down on his bottom lip, you pull away a little. “Is this part of your grand plan to make it up to me?” 

Jake hums, dick throbbing in his pants. “Yeah, baby.” He nods, still attached to your mouth. “Been thinking about it all day.”

“It’s working.” 

A breathless laugh—amused, turned on, taken aback. He pulls away, patting his lap and you don’t hesitate to straddle him, sparks between your bodies. Palms on your hips, fingers grazing the soft fabric of your yoga pants. A stir in his chest—heart hammering when he looks at you, breathless. Thank you, God, he thinks, sincerely. I needed this. His gratitude tangles quickly with guilt, uncertainty. Am I doing the right thi—your hand rests on his, snaps him out of it. Eyes soft, lips parted, want written all over your face. So beautiful, and so different from the resting frustrated face you seem to wear whenever he’s around—which he won’t pretend to dislike. 

“Wanted to come over here and see you last night.”

Sheepishly, you twist the cuff of your sleeve between your fingers. A stark change from your usual behaviour, rarely reserved about anything — at least not with him — and so mouthy until he gets his hands on you. “I wish you did,” you mumble, looking away.

“I should’ve, baby, but I’m here now,” he says softly.

Another kiss—deeper, slower. An act of restitution — one of many to come — the way his tongue moves against yours, eager to keep to his word. He reaches for the curve of your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh under your hoodie. The swell of your breast against his palm, cool zipper brushing his knuckles. He tugs on it just enough for you to smile against his lips. 

“Can I take this off?” 

You nod, clearly flustered, worked up already. 

Pulling at the zipper, he savours every inch of skin that comes into view. A shaky inhale seeing your bra—the same one from the pictures, having the exact same effect. Holy shit. Lace under his fingers, touching it as gently as he can manage like it’s sacred, because to him it is. He can’t look away, gaze fixed, reverent. Holy shit. Jake clears his throat, mouth suddenly dry, like he’s seeing you for the first time. The pictures don’t do you justice, not even close. And he loves the pictures. 

You’re watching with lidded eyes, and swollen lips. He cups your cheek. “My pretty girl. So gorgeous,” he says, though it doesn’t seem enough. With two languages to choose from, Jake should have the words. But he doesn’t. Not for this—for you. 

Heat diffuses beneath his hand, coating your cheek as you turn into his touch, hiding your face. Smiling lips pressing a muffled word into his palm. “And?”

“And I’m sorry about last night.” 

You raise an intrigued brow, no longer hiding. “And?” 

“I’m an idiot.” 

A grin, a glorious grin as you nod. “I just wanted you to say it wouldn’t happen again, but this is way better.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “I’m a big idiot, and you’re the smartest girl I know. It’s not going to happen again, I promise.” 

Sudden betrayal in your squinted eyes, clutching your hoodie over your chest, his palm trapped against the cup of your bra—he almost thanks you. Deeply unimpressed, you scoff. “You know other girls?”

Charmed, Jake smiles, freeing his hand. “Don’t worry, baby. None of them make me as nervous as you.” A kiss before you can respond, pulling your chest flush with his. You hum against his lips, whimpering when he rolls his hips into yours. Hands on your back, quickly unclasping your bra. He nips at the spot below your ear, making you shiver. “And none of them get me this hard either.”

“I know,” you say simply, but your breathlessness undercuts your confidence, and steals his patience. 

Taking your hoodie and bra off, he guides you onto your back, settling between your spread thighs like it’s where he belongs. At a loss for words, he squeezes your hip, eyes catching on every part of you. Hard nipples, soft plane of your stomach—nothing about you he doesn’t love. Jake gulps, awestruck, always awestruck. Overwhelmed by the weight of how much he wants this. Wants you. 

“So perfect, baby,” he whispers, finally. “So, so perfect.” 

A smile tugs at your lips, hands coming up to cover your face. “Shut up,” you grumble. 

Huffed laughter slips out of him, endeared. Aching slightly, wondering if you don’t know you’re the most breathtaking thing he’s ever seen. He tugs your hands away, holding them in his, lips brushing your knuckles before he leans in and pecks yours.  

Slow, desperate kisses along the curve of your jaw, trailing the length of your neck to your shoulder. He lingers, sucking pretty love bites onto your collarbone, soothing the skin with his tongue after. A shudder, as you pull his hair, whimpering under him. He could stay like this all day, forever if you let him. Lips on your nipple, finally, licking, biting. 

Your moan is instant, pulled from somewhere deep, and he groans at the sound, tongue flicking just to hear it again. “Jake,” you say, breathless. Even better. “Jake, please.”

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he says, nosing between your breasts, the warm skin there heady, dizzying. 

“Want your mouth—can’t wait any longer.”

His dick twitches as he lifts his head. Takes you in—your pouty lips, ruffled hair, sweat beading on your skin. Jake is not going to come in his pants again because of you. No matter how much it feels like he is. That won’t happen. It can’t. He’s an adult man with self-control. He tells himself these things over and over, willing them to be true, even though he knows better.

Jake leans up, pressing a kiss to your lips. He can’t get enough. “I’m not going to make you wait,” he says—a blatant lie. He has every intention to make you wait, at least a little. 

His fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, slipping beneath, eyes wide when he feels the heat of you. Fuck. You take his middle finger easily, pulling him in, clenching around it, and the choked sob you let out sends a sharp spike of need along his spine. He lets his thumb brush your clit, slow, deliberate. You’re too worked up to focus on kissing now, squirming underneath him, nails digging into his forearm. His lips trail your throat again, more marks, his own breath coming faster, a little unsteady—almost as wrecked as you. 

“I feel like—” You pause, mouth falling open to let out a harsh exhale. “I’ve been waiting for a while, baby, need it.” 

For reasons he doesn’t fully understand, there’s just something about hearing that word. Baby. So rare from you, uttered only at your most vulnerable, that always undoes him. Has him acting at your beck and call without a second thought—so it can’t come as a surprise when he tears your pants off, presses his lips to your core, and groans hungrily, breathing you in. 

There’s a certain reverence to it all, he can’t help it—it just comes naturally with you, a need to please you, worship you. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping you in place, savouring the soft whine you let out when his nose brushes your clit. 

Fuck. 

He likes this a lot more than kissing. Likes the way you moan and cry out his name, the way you tug his hair, and crush his head between your soft thighs. Loves the way you fall apart on his tongue, and the way you taste. The wet look in your big eyes — chest heaving, breath ripped out of you — after he licks you clean.

The tension lingers, sweet and heavy, pressing in on Jake from all angles when he finally pulls away, leaving a kiss to your inner thigh before sitting back on his heels. He watches you, sinking into the sheets—lashes fluttering, bottom lip pulled between your teeth. Spent and glowing as you look at him. Jake pulls off his shirt, cool air pulling goosebumps along his skin. A deep breath, a few deep breaths. You ask in a quiet voice if you can wear it. He nods, hands moving instinctively, fingers brushing your skin as he helps you put it on.

“Did so good for me, baby. Didn’t you?” he asks, pulling you into his arms, hand stroking your back. 

You lift your head from his chest, a dreamy look in your eyes when you look up at him. “Does that surprise you, Jakey?” 

His breath hitches, heat spreading on his cheeks and neck. He doesn’t have the upper hand with you, not at all. But he does have the option to kiss you instead of answering so he does that. Kissing you until you say, one minute, against his lips, and leave the room.

Soft warmth settles in Jake’s chest as he heads to the kitchen, smiling. All of this, these moments after sex, makes his heart race. Makes him want to get on his hands and knees and beg you to love him back—though he would settle for like. This routine, this quiet afterwards might honestly be his favourite part of it all. The two of you, inhabiting this tiny world you’ve carved out together—big enough for you and him only. The flat to yourselves. Your head on his chest. You even asked to wear his shirt! These moments when the thought of being your boyfriend doesn’t seem so out of reach. When he feels like he is your boyfriend. 

He can’t stop smiling. 

At the sink, he washes his hands before pouring you a glass of water, and when you step out of the bathroom, he’s already there, leaning against the wall. He melts at the sight of you—barefoot and sleepy-eyed, a smile on your face. His favourite sight in the whole world. He can’t believe his blessings, that you would want him — even if only for sex — and each day he spends with you makes it harder for him not to test how far he can push it. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” he says, handing you the glass. “You feeling okay?” 

You hum in response, thanking him. Your fingers slip around his, warm and delicate, and he has to remind himself to breathe as you lead him back to your room. Jake’s eyes are glued to you, addicted to the way you fill out his shirt. It’s senseless—how a piece of his own clothing, something so familiar, suddenly looks brand new just because you’re the one wearing it. Looks better. Nipples nudging the soft cotton, hips curving out into the hem, ass hanging out of it. He lies down on the bed, watching you, each movement entrancing him. His heart stills in his chest when you tie your hair back, shirt riding up enough to show off the lace of your underwear. It’s too much. It’s perfect. He clasps his hands in his lap, trying and failing to cover the effect you have on him. 

You get into bed, body molding to his like a second skin. Head on his chest, ear pressed over his heart—hearing it thud, no doubt. Jake wraps his arm around you, fingers splaying over your back, holding you close. He exhales slowly, wondering how much longer he can lay here like this, with you, before he overstays his welcome. He’s made good on his promise, done what you invited him here to do, and it’s not late enough that you’d object to him leaving at this time. Your breath is a steady lull on his skin. Asleep, probably. But then—your hand trails on his stomach, fingers resting on his waistband, and he can’t help feeling a bit bad. 

He knows better than to think anyone could make you do something you didn’t want to do—but has no idea if that includes him, too. Novelty long gone. Your curiosity sufficiently sated, while he kills himself trying to pretend he’s fine being just a friend to you again. This is hardly a perfect arrangement, but Jake feels nice sometimes, worthy and handsome, knowing you want him too—even if it’s only sex. It’s really good sex. 

As if you can hear his brain thinking his arousal away, you reach into his underwear. All of his blood rushes south, your soft palm wrapping around him. His mouth opens, then shuts. He wants you, he always will, and it’s all he can do to pray that won’t cost him this friendship—or you. 

Jake clears his throat, shakes his head. “You don’t have to.”

“I know, Jakey. I want to.”

He kisses the top of your head with a soft, contented sigh, fingers curling around the back of your shirt. Eyelids fluttering shut. It’s good, more than—leagues better than when he does it himself. Perfect. A shiver runs through him when you kiss his stomach, leaving a mark on the ticklish skin. He wants to look, really wants to, but he doesn’t want to come yet. Your lips brush his belly button and the hair underneath. A mumble of his name into his skin that he hears, feels, but can’t address.

“Jake,” you say again, leaning off of him. 

He hums, eyes snapping open when you whisper in his ear, “Do you want to stay over?” 

A nod. “Yeah, baby. I’ll stay over.” The words spill out of him with no consideration for the long day he has ahead. 

You pull his earlobe between your lips, nipping gently, a jolt down his spine. “Good boy.”

The praise makes him throb in your hand. Fuck, he thinks. Absolutely none of these words are in the Bible. 

Jake wakes up in an empty bed, your door ajar. It’s only eight — too early to rush — and he stretches out his arms, twisting against the mattress. Fifteen lonely minutes go by without you, and so he gets up, dragging his feet through the apartment.  

You’re in the kitchen, speaking in a hushed voice to Jimin—who seems to forget about the whole whispering thing for long enough that her voice rings through the hall when she says, “You need to get a grip before you get hurt!”

Sensing him, you whip your head towards the doorway, spotting Jake where he stands. Jimin wears a too-tight smile as he approaches. “Nervous about the game?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Great! Listen, I have to run, but good luck out there!” she says, patting his shoulder before leaving the room in a cloud of jasmine. 

Chewing your lip, you follow her out with your eyes, blinking when the door clicks shut behind her. Jake shifts his weight between his feet, tensing his abs on instinct when your gaze trails over him. You don’t comment, but you linger before looking away. For a second, something unreadable passes over your face—gone as soon as you speak. “Do you want something to eat?” you ask, smiling, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “We need to do a food shop, but I can make you some..” You trail off, pulling the fridge open. “Greek yoghurt with blueberries.”

“Is everything alright?” 

You nod, not meeting his gaze. “Jimin just thinks I’m stretching myself a bit thin.” You huff a small laugh, trying to downplay it, but your shoulders stay tense. Pulling out the punnet, you frown at it. “Greek yoghurt on its own?” you suggest, throwing the blueberries into the bin. 

Jake shakes his head, a small, appreciative smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I need to go soon, I still haven’t packed.” He fiddles with the drawstring on his pants, eyes lingering on you. Still so beautiful with a crease between your brows—he wants to reach out, smooth it over with his thumb. “Are you going to be alright by yourself?” It’s a bit of a useless question, he knows what you’re going to say. Knows you would tell him you were fine even if your arm was hanging off. You know it too, if the arch of your brow is anything to go by. 

A chuckle. “Don’t worry about it, Superstar—you have a game to play.” 

Jake hesitates, wondering if he should argue or just accept it. You’ll be fine. You always are. But something about leaving feels harder this time. Feels wrong. “You’re more important to me than a college football game.” 

In theory, it’s true. 

In practice, he’s not going to skip his game, not unless you ask him to—which you won’t. His football career is running on a clock that will only tick for two more terms after the summer. In his email, a timetable awaits, outlining all of his games for his last season. It’s provisional, for now, but bears weight regardless. He can’t afford to miss a game right now, but he’s a little shaken by the feeling that he can’t afford to leave you either.

You smile, a barely there curve of your lips as you close the fridge. Taking his hand in yours, you give it a squeeze, a steady reassurance. “Honestly, Jake. I’ll be alright. And if I’m not, I’ll still be here when you get back. So go.”

For someone so desperate to get rid of him, you’re having a hard time parting with his hoodie. He doesn’t want it back, but he needs something to wear to the car. It’s only fair, he showed up in only his t-shirt after all—his t-shirt that you’re still wearing and seem reluctant to return. You pull it close to your body like it’s yours now. 

“It’s two degrees out,” he reminds you. “Do you want me shirtless in that?” 

A sick and twisted silence passes, long enough to convince Jake you’re actually going to say yes. He watches your gaze flick downwards, want for him so clear that his dick twitches. Dragging your fingernail over the dip in his abs, your touch leaves a trail of fire in its wake. 

He’s thankful for the discipline he’s developed in the new year—consistently following Sunghoon to the gym, eating unseasoned chicken breast and three eggs at breakfast because Sunghoon does, because Sunghoon is.. a lot. Wide shoulders, solid frame. Built like God put him on Earth to look good shirtless, and Jake—well. He eats the chicken. He lifts the weights. He does his best.

“No, not really,” you say, frowning as you shove the hoodie into his arms. 

Jake smiles, glad you didn’t take too long to come around. He puts it on, zipping it slowly. Eyes on you the whole time, and when his abs disappear beneath the fabric, you sigh. His lips twitch, pleased.

At your front door, he hugs you—contemplates never letting go. The scent of coconut drifts up from your hair, and it tugs at something deep in his chest. His fingers tighten, pressing into your waist. He frowns. He shouldn’t miss you—not this much, not for one night. A night where, realistically, he wouldn’t see you even if he stayed home. But no amount of logic or reason is enough to make him feel better.

“I wish you were coming with me,” he says, mumbling into your collarbone. 

You lean back a little, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. For a second, a desperate, fleeting second, he thinks that maybe you’ll say, fuck it, and come along, that you might see the appeal of sneaking around a four-star hotel with him. He can picture it already—matching fluffy robes, doing your skincare routine together at the end of the night, sharing a twin bed while Jay Park snores in the other one. 

Instead, you look up at him with a smile that turns his knees to mush. “Not my fault you suck at planning, Jakey.”

He groans, tips his head back, feigning exhaustion. “Right, because everything is my fault, and I’m the villain in your story. I get it.” 

You roll your eyes. “Get out of my apartment,” you say, but your grip doesn’t ease.

Jake exhales a laugh, but he doesn’t move either. Just stands there, holding you, memorising this like he’s shipping off to war—your hands on his skin, your vanilla scent under his nose. “Without a kiss?” His voice comes out quiet, hopeful—half teasing, half not. He’s stalling, trying to buy another second. Maybe two. 

You push at his chest a little. “Out, Jake.” But you’re smiling and he feels your fingers tighten just a fraction before they let go. 

Jake only smiles, his arms locked around you. He dips his head, pressing a kiss to your temple, and his voice is soft when he says, “I’ll text you when we get there.”

A sigh slips out of you, feigning annoyance, but the brush of your fingers down his arm gives you away. “Yeah, yeah. See you later.” 

He grins. “You’ll miss me.” 

A beat passes before you speak, just long enough for Jake’s smile to falter as he watches you. You pout, hand on his cheek, thumb moving tenderly over his skin. “No,” you say, shaking your head. “But you’ll miss me.” 

“I already do.” He’s not lying. 

Jake doesn’t kiss you before he leaves, which is okay. He tells himself it’s okay. But regrets it the whole drive home, drumming his fingers against the wheel as if he can tap the thought away. He regrets it while he stuffs his kit and toiletries into a duffle bag. And he regrets it on the bus, staring out at the passing motorway, the new Beabadoobee album blaring in his headphones. He’s so consumed by his regret that he doesn’t even have it in him to pretend he’s annoyed when Jay falls asleep with his head on his shoulder. 

Not for lack of trying, Jake doesn’t sleep, and as it turns out, the protein bar he found in his backpack earlier is not enough sustenance for a three-hour journey. The bus rumbles on, road stretching out endlessly through the windscreen when he takes a look. He sighs, cracking his knuckles and willing himself to stop thinking about you. This doesn’t work either, and he’s typing out a text to you before he realises. 

Jake: I hope you’re feeling better ❤️

Jake: I’ll see you soon, okay?

You reply with a picture of yourself in bed—glasses on, a book in your lap, lips curved into a soft, easy smile that makes something in his chest tighten. He stares for too long, caught up in the details. Gentle slope of your nose, loose strands of hair framing your face, dark love bites peeking out from under the collar of your shirt. His stomach flips, a giddy laugh slipping out. He wishes he could do something, turn the bus around, and go see that pretty face in person.

YN: All good, Jakey !!! Just needed to shower apparently.. 

Jake: My gorgeous girl :)

Jake: You did smell kinda weird when I hugged you 

YN: ???

YN: Don’t even joke lad. 

Jake snaps a quick selfie—grinning, a little flushed, hair messy from having his hood up. In the corner, Jay is dead asleep, mouth agape, face smushed into Jake’s shoulder. He laughs quietly, sending the picture, heat flooding his cheeks when you react with heart eyes.

YN: Such a pretty boy ☹️

YN: Jay obviously

Jake: Obviously.

It’s just past two when they start filing off the bus, the sharp coastal wind biting at Jake’s cheeks. He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunching against the cold. The hotel in front of them is huge—way nicer than anything they actually need. But still, it’s nice, knowing that the football budget is going to something tangible, that they enjoy. A small comfort. The younger boys he sees like brothers will be looked after when he’s gone, and that thought warms him despite the cold. Towering windows glint in the afternoon sun, the kind of place with sleek, startlingly shiny floors and crystal chandeliers that don’t make sense for a one-night stay. But he’ll take this any day over the dingy motels he remembers from first year, stained towels and plywood mattresses. 

At the front desk, Jay stands in line next to Jake with his eyes shut, as if three hours asleep on the bus weren’t enough. Jake knows better than to say anything though — after three years on the same team — he understands that Jay isn’t tired. He’s following a ritual. The Rilakkuma band-aid on his wrist is proof of that. And in case that isn’t enough, Jay doesn’t touch the key card either. He claims the bed furthest from the door, sits on the edge of the mattress, and blasts Mama, You’ve Been On My Mind—the Joan Baez and Bob Dylan live version, not the Bob Dylan studio outtake. And he listens to it twice before saying a word to Jake. Of course, because they had a single brief conversation before that first away game three years ago, their post-check-in discussions are forever based around two subjects: food, and you.

Jake: We’re here :) 

YN: Has Jay asked about me yet?

Jake: One more stream

YN: Ah, almost settled then, I see

Jake laughs at this, a small exhale from his nose as he watches you type. 

YN: If you stayed home, would he just.. not play? 

Jake: Never considered that but I’ll ask later

Jake: Kick-off at 5:30 btw

YN: Good luck 🥳🥳🥳

He reacts to the message with a heart and tosses his phone aside, pressing the heel of his hand to his empty stomach. It’s a lot, Jay’s routine, but Jake isn’t in a position to judge him too harshly. Ever since high school, he eats a bowl of brown rice, grilled chicken and vegetables before away games, like it’s a charm against failure. Because it is. Because the first time he did, he played the best game of his life, and now the thought of eating anything else makes his stomach coil. It might seem silly to believe that a bowl of rice could change the outcome of a game, but Jake has seen it first-hand and isn’t willing to risk it again.

Jay is humming, oblivious, bobbing his head slightly, and Jake can’t help the smile on his face as he watches. Music spills from his headphones—Dylan’s voice a scratch against the air, Baez’s softer, sweeter. It’s almost grating, a taste he’s yet to acquire. They don’t talk much outside of football, not really, but there’s a closeness anyway. Built from hours of drills, sharing meals after training, and rooms for away games, retreats. A sudden rush of dread hits Jake, remembering that after next year — after graduation — the two will likely never share a room again. Even more hauntingly, they may never share the pitch again. Jake shakes his head. The plight of the student athlete, he supposes.

A happy sigh comes from Jay as he takes his headphones off, standing up. He stretches his arms out over his head, turning to Jake, grinning. “Hey, buddy.” 

Jake would never admit this to him — or anyone — but he has a lot of respect for Jay. He takes training seriously, giving his all even during warm-up games, he’s got killer technique, and is (unfortunately) really nice. If Jake couldn’t make captain, he’s glad it went to Jay.

“I was talking to your girlfriend the other day.” The grin doesn’t fall from Jay’s face when he speaks, wagging his brows.

The G-word makes Jake roll his eyes—even though he likes hearing it, praying that God is listening and taking notes.

“She cornered me in the library to ask if I knew how to make a pie.”

“That sounds like her,” Jake says, smiling too.

His cheeks burn thinking about what you said yesterday—about how you’d wanted to bake him a pie. The memory jolts him. He digs through his bag without thinking, quickly finding the tinfoil abomination he made sure not to leave the house without. Jay catches it easily in his left hand when he tosses it over, eyeing it suspiciously before unwrapping it. 

“She ended up making cookies, but I guess you knew that.”

He blinks at them like they might explode. “Wait, she made these for you?” Jay tilts his head, impressed. “You might not be as hopeless as I thought.”

Giddiness overwhelms Jake as he nods. It’s weird, a bit ridiculous even, how a batch of cookies can feel like a championship win—better. He likes it though, and doesn’t try to fight his smile.

His stomach rumbles into the silence. “Do you want to come get food?” He always extends an invitation to Jay. 

“I’m good, man.”

And Jay never accepts. 

This meal is a sacred one. As soon as Coach announces the hotel, Jake pulls up Uber Eats and Google Maps on his desktop to meticulously survey the surrounding area. And if his work reaps unfavourable results, he’ll call the hotel to enquire about the microwave arrangements. And if that doesn’t work out, he calls the convenience shops nearby to ask them. 

He knows how he must seem, but before the first away game of this season, he brought his rice bowl in tupperware, had to eat it cold, and sprained his ankle on the pitch. So to say he was delighted when he found it on the menu of a local place would be an understatement—an independent Mexican restaurant with a 4.7 star rating only twenty-minutes away on foot. Perfect. His Promised Land. He applauded the monitor when he saw it.

Tres Mesas—a quaint restaurant, with three tables and a TV in the corner playing the news on mute, but damn if that wasn’t the best bowl of brown rice, grilled chicken, and pico de gallo he’s eaten in his life. The rice was fluffy, the grilled chicken tender, smoky. Even the pico de gallo was incredible—he only ordered it because he hadn’t looked at the vegetables yet, and panicked when the waitress sighed. Luckily, it’s the one component of the meal he’s willing to play fast and loose with. He can’t actually remember which vegetables he ate that first day, just that he enjoyed them. 

When he finishes eating, he gets up from his table with half a mind to go to the kitchen and ask for a photo with the chef. He settles for going to the cash machine across the road and taking out a tenner for the tip jar by the till. On the walk back to the hotel, he texts his dad a photo of the bowl, looking at it lovingly as he sings its praises via text. 

Jake: Kick-off is at 17:30 💪 will let you know how we get on, love you

On the way to the other school, again, Jay rests his head on Jake’s shoulder—whether he’s awake or not is anyone’s guess. But when Jake’s phone vibrates in his pocket, he retrieves it with as little motion as possible, just in case. 

Dad: I’m glad you enjoyed your meal. Was it hot? 😂.

Dad: You do not need luck, son. You are always wonderful. Love you. 

Jake: It was hot, dad 😭😭😭 of course, it was 

Jake: Way too soon…………..

Warm-ups go by in a blink, a blur of sweat and jump squats until Jake finds himself standing in the tunnel with everyone else. Muscles humming, heart racing. He shakes out his limbs and prays to God for a miracle. 

At church, when someone gives a testimony, they say, “God is good,” and the rest of the congregation responds in unison, “All the time.” Then, that person says, “All the time,” and in unison, the congregation says, “God is good.”

Jake doesn’t know why he finds it so grating, but week after week, he sits in his seat suppressing an eye roll while muttering the responses along with everyone else. However, when the ref blows the whistle to call full-time — scoreboard reading: HOME 0, AWAY 4 — ‘God is good’ sits on the tip of his tongue. He covers his mouth with his collar, pressing his lips together so it doesn’t slip out. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t have time to dwell on it, because Kim Sunoo comes running up and jumps on his back, looping his arms around Jake’s neck, and he nearly topples over. The rest of the team come rushing towards them, loud and triumphant. Jay reaches them first, his eyes gleaming with pride as he ruffles Jake’s hair. Adrenaline courses through him, dulling the ache in his legs. 

And as they start to leave the pitch, heading for the locker room, he kisses his hand, points to the sky, and mouths, thank you.

People are often surprised to hear Jake admit that the best part of winning a game isn’t the roaring crowd, his coach’s praise, or even personal satisfaction. No, the best part of winning a game is laughing at the dinner table with his teammates after, and washing down a tomahawk steak — mushrooms and potatoes on the side — with a glass of champagne. And all on the university’s dollar at that. 

Winning the first away game of the spring semester was more than enough cause for celebration, and Jake — full-bellied and alcohol glazed — has been keeping an eye on his drinks all night. He glances at his empty glass, pleased with his restraint. Someone had to keep a level head, and it wasn’t going to be Jay. O Captain! Our Captain!—for whom the only thing between tipsy and shit-faced is a whiff of vodka. Maybe less. 

Turns out, Jake was worried about the wrong guy. 

Nishimura Riki, 186 cm of arms and legs, dawdles over, red in the face (and ears and neck) and stumbling. With each step, his well-consumed IPA sloshes dangerously in his glass, splashing the back of his hand when he comes to an abrupt halt. “Sunoo, move,” He starts. “Need to talk to Jake.” His voice is slow and syrupy, at least an octave higher than normal. 

Their youngest — their scrawny Goliath — only turned eighteen a few months ago, and (quite bravely) attended his first three months of college parties completely sober until then. He’s still figuring out his limits, and Jake can’t help but be endeared by this large child—if not a little alarmed. 

“Knock yourself out, kid,” Sunoo says, amused, as he stands up. He sticks around for long enough to make sure Riki doesn’t fall over trying to sit, and takes his empty seat at the other end of the table. 

This conversation he came stumbling over for is a request — delivered in a harsh whisper, hand over his mouth — to sit beside each other at the next meal. Jake flinches, too startled to respond, when Jay stands abruptly from his chair. “Get up, Riki. I’ll swap with you.” 

Childlike delight floods Riki’s flushed face, looking up at his captain like manna from the sky, and wrapping his gangly arms around him when they cross paths. Jake shares a look with Jay as he sits in front of him—equal parts amusement and concern. 

“Do you think I could finish that off for you?” Jay asks, gesturing to what’s left in Riki’s glass. 

He nods quickly, extending it. “Of course, I’ll just get ano—” 

“No!” Jake all but yells, cutting him off. “I mean, Coach is limiting us to three drinks tonight, so, no more.” A lie he deems more than necessary, a lie he wishes someone had already told.  

Riki grins, leaning in. “That’s my sixth.” A laugh, and then another bubbles out of him as he sinks into his seat, shoulders racking. This disclosure seems as surprising to Jay as it is to Jake—not at all. He is extremely lucky that his teammates like him so much. Settled, finally settled, Riki shifts, letting his bony knees dig into Jake’s thigh. “Did you see my tackle? What did you think? Am I getting better?” 

Jake nods sincerely, Riki’s been working hard — eager to prove himself so Coach won’t regret signing a first-year — and it’s paying off. “It was clean, buddy. You did great,” he says, meaning it. And Riki doesn’t try to hide his boxy grin. 

On his other side is Jungwon—head tipped back over his chair, knocked out after one mojito. Jake takes a photo, sends it to you. Lil bro can’t hang. You reply right away: AWWWWW cutie 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 how much did he drink lmao.

Jake: Mojito 

Jake: Singular

YN: 😭😭😭

Jake can’t suppress his smile, taking a selfie at a high angle and sending it to you. What about me am I cutie ?

YN: Yes, very cutie !!! You look so handsome 🤒

YN: So blushy, baby, are you also very drunk? 

Cutie. So handsome. Baby. Jake is as giddy as he is confused. All that in the span of two consecutive text messages—he can’t believe his luck, struggling to tamp down his sudden desire to buy a lottery ticket. You might even tell him you miss him if he plays his cards right. 

Jake: Sweet girl 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Jake: Not drunk just a few glasses of champagne hehehehe

YN: So you’re drunk 😭😭😭

Jake: You can’t see but I’m rolling my eyes

YN: I believe you, Jakey 😐 put the phone down and celebrate w your friends, okay? 

YN: We can talk when you get back to your room !!!

What an exciting suggestion—talking in his room. With you. Jake stares down at his phone, in awe. Wow, he thinks. So clever. He almost wants to get up and start bragging about you like a proud parent. Oh. That is not an image he likes.  

Jake: Whatare you gonna do if I keep texting? Leave me on read?  

Yes, apparently—you read the message as soon as it sends and don’t reply. Don’t even start typing. Thirty minutes pass by before they leave the restaurant. Jungwon on Jake’s back. Riki on Jay’s. 

He was never very good at cards.

Finally in bed, light-headed and smiley after three glasses of champagne, Jake pulls up your contact and calls you. He waits, staring up at the ceiling, tapping his fingers against his phone case. The room hums softly around him. After a few rings, you answer, and he smiles at the sound of your voice. “Hey, Superstar! Congrats!” 

“Thanks, gorgeous,” he says, eyes fluttering shut. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Jimin and I are going to pres at Yizhuo’s and then the club. I actually think we’re leaving soon, but it should be good—Yizhuo hasn’t come out since Valentine’s.”

The mention of Valentine’s makes Jake’s breath hitch, fingers tightening around his phone as the memory comes rushing back—relentless. He hasn’t been out since then either, now that he thinks about it. That night. The dance floor. Your breath fanning his neck when you asked him to kiss you. 

Jake froze, caught off guard. “What?” 

“Don’t be a kid about it, Jakey,” you said in his ear. “If you don’t kiss me, Jaehyun will.” 

The thought of Jaehyun kissing you, again, while Jake was stuck at zero kisses in ten years, made him sick. Historically, he had always been unlucky when it came to you—countless games of spin the bottle spent kissing the person to your left, watching as you kissed his friends. Yet there you were, asking him to kiss you and he was hesitating. Stupid, really. Ridiculous. 

He cleared his throat, heart pounding. He’d read too many romance novels, seen too many films, to believe that you two could kiss once and it wouldn’t change everything—but he liked you, and he suspected he always had. So he asked, “You really want me to kiss you?” 

“Please,” you said, voice small, vulnerable, as if you were giving him a piece of yourself and begging him not to break it. 

Through the phone, your voice hits his ear, bringing him back. “Did you fall asleep?” You don’t sound anything like you did last month.

“No, no, I was just thinking,” he says faintly, a distracted beat passing as something crosses his mind. “Hey, what was that about with Jimin earlier?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, and he's certain that’s the end of it. “She just thinks I’m going to get hurt when you go off, and use all your new experience on someone else.” You laugh, and he can’t tell if you’re amused by the notion of getting hurt, or there being someone else. 

Jake wasn’t expecting you to tell him anything, never mind that. The thought that you, or Jimin — or anyone — could think there was someone else. That there could be someone else, hollows his chest, grinds an ugly gear in his brain. But it clears up a lot about this morning, she wasn’t being weird, she was.. warning you? His thoughts race, a million and one questions rattling in his head. 

“Are you?” Is the one he asks, not fully equipped for any of the answers you might give. 

A long quiet beat passes. “Are you?”

This feels like an opening, an opportunity for him to set some things straight. How could there ever be anyone else? To confess, maybe. You’re it for me, you’ve always been it for me. He can’t bring himself to—it doesn’t feel right to say over the phone. “If something was seriously wrong, you would tell me, right?” he says instead. At your silence, he continues. “The world won’t end if you open up to me, you know. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Of course. You’re my best friend,” you say belatedly. 

“Yeah,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest. “Always.”

You don’t reply right away, a minute passing before you clear your throat. “I have to go, okay? But I’ll text you.”

Jake nods even though you can’t see. “Have fun tonight.” 

“Thank you, Jakey.” You hang up.

His phone vibrates with a text from you. Fit check 🤧. You’re wearing a lace tank top and a little black skirt. I’ll have a drink for you since you’re staying in! He stares at the photo—flutter in chest, heat on cheeks. His screen locks, and his reflection grins back at him, clear-eyed, flushed. Happy. Unlocking his phone, the photo stares back at him—you, so beautiful, and so far away. His thumb brushes the screen absentmindedly. Gosh, he misses you. 

Jake: You look so perfect……wish I was there 🤒

Jake: Look after yourself, cutie 

YN: Haha thanks me tooooo 

YN: Yes sir 🫡

He types out that he misses you but thinks better of it, clearing the message and leaving a heart-react on your response. 

“Was that your girl on the phone?” Jay asks, closing the bathroom door behind him. 

Smiling, Jake turns the phrase over in his head. My girl. Butterflies erupt just thinking about it. Another silent prayer. “It was.”

Jay only nods, taking his charger from his bag and plugging it into the wall by his bed. He takes a long sip of water from his bottle and sighs, relieved, Jake thinks. For a long time, Jay looks at him from the other end of the room, saying nothing. 

Until. “You’re a good guy, Jake,” he says, his tone a bit too serious for Jake’s liking. “And it’s fine that you like her, it’s good that you like her, but how much longer are you going to keep that to yourself?” he asks, looking at Jake like he actually wants an answer. 

Sighing, Jake pinches the bridge of his nose. “I get that you think you’re helping, but just—maybe stay out of it.”

Jay blinks, his brows twitching together for the briefest second before smoothing out. Jake hadn’t meant for it to come out so sharply. Silence stretches out over them, long and heavy, and before he can take it back, Jay exhales slowly, looking away. 

“I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. It’s just—” A pause. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, like he’s saying something that will cost him to admit. “Look, I’ve tried sleeping my way from friend to boyfriend, and it doesn’t work. At some point, you’re going to have to show her you care about more than just sex, and I hope, for your sake, as your friend, that you do it before it’s too late.” 

Jake stiffens, every muscle in his body tensing up. Heat spreads from his ears down the back of his neck, sharp and unforgiving. His first instinct is to argue, to say something to get on Jay’s nerves, but he relents—there’s no point in arguing over something they both know is true. 

He clears his throat, sighs deeply. “Thank you, Jay, for your unsolicited advice,” Jake says, turning around and screwing his eyes shut, willing for sleep to pull him under. 

It doesn’t. 

Jay shuffles around the room for a bit before flicking off the light. Jake wonders if he should say something, but he knows there’s no need. Grudges don’t belong in their friendship—it shows on the pitch when something’s off. So they get everything off their chests, yell at each other if they have to, and move on like it never happened. 

And yet, he feels bad for meeting Jay’s vulnerability with sarcasm. He goes over the things he could say, again and again, until he hears snoring over his shoulder.

With a sigh, Jake rolls onto his back and rubs a hand over his face. He sends a text to Sunghoon—a question he already knows the answer to: Do you think I’m fucking things up w YN? It’s only after hitting send and putting his phone under his pillow, that sleep finally overtakes him.

In the morning, he stirs before waking up, dragged from sleep by rustling fabric and soft, persistent thuds. A moment later, something light smacks him in the face, jolting him from his slumber. He squints into the morning light, a blurry shape above him. A pillow. To the face, again. When Jake’s eyes finally focus on Jay, he has the faintest idea that he’s being rewarded for something. He’s standing there, looking down at him, all tan skin and toned stomach, arms flexing as he swings the pillow again. It’s annoying, really, how effortlessly put-together he looks, and Jake forces himself to look away, covering his face with his hands. 

“Morning, princess!” 

Jake groans. “What, Jay? What is it?” he asks, sufficiently disturbed.

“They wouldn’t let me bring a plate for you, so you need to get up before breakfast is done,” Jay says, aiming another hit at Jake’s chest. 

Still trying to get his bearings, Jake slaps at the pillow and pulls the blanket over his head. Jay isn’t having it. He smacks him with what Jake suspects is all of his might. At this point, it’s hard for Jake to stay touched by the fact that Jay had wanted to fix him a plate. 

“Fine, fine!” Jake’s voice isn’t quite working yet, the words coming out in a low rumble as he sits up. “I’m going.”

“How’d you sleep?” Jay asks, hugging the pillow to his chest. 

Jake shrugs. “Pretty good. You?”

“Same.” 

Jake inspects Jay, searching for a sign that last night is still hanging over him too. But he looks.. fine—bed already made, bag packed, hair still damp from the shower. Jake knows Jay well enough to tell when something’s wrong, and there isn’t even a trace of tension on his face. No irritation, nothing at all—he’s over it. It should be a relief, but instead, it makes Jake’s heart sink.

“I have to tell you something, but you can’t make a big deal about it,” he says, stretching a little as Jay nods. “You have to promise, dude.”

Jay rolls his eyes, but extends his pinky anyway, curling it around Jake’s. “I promise.” 

Jake is struck by how still the room feels, like it’s holding its breath. Why is he doing this? Jay has already moved on, and now, because of Jake and his lack of self-regulation, they’re standing around shirtless in a hotel room, miles away from home, holding hands. It’s all very bizarre, and he is looking forward to stepping down from the top of this mountain-sized molehill he’s made.

He sighs, tired of himself. “You were right, about.. everything. And I’m sorry,” he admits. 

Jay grins, his smile smug, almost feline, in a way that entrances and confuses Jake at once. “About everything?” he asks, amusement in his tone, making Jake wonder whether he’s taking this seriously.

“Come on!” Jake says, incredulous, holding up their locked fingers.

Jay’s smile falters, and he rolls his eyes. “Oh no. I broke my promise,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I suppose you’re going to make a scene now? Tell me, Jake, what are you going to do? Tell me off? Spank me? Amputate?” 

Irritated – flustered, maybe — Jake yanks his finger free, cheeks hot. He pulls on a shirt with a little more force than necessary, not bothering to look at Jay as he does. 

“Listen, if it makes you feel any better, I already knew I was right,” Jay says, and the smile on his face is audible. “I do accept your apology, though.” 

Jake exhales, a tension he hadn’t even noticed unwinding from his shoulders. He steps out into the hall feeling lighter, relieved, so chipper he takes the stairs instead of the lift, practically skipping down them. The air in the stairwell is crisp against his skin, the smell of coffee drifting up as he gets closer and closer to the dining hall. His phone vibrates in his pocket, lighting up with three messages from Sunghoon when he checks it. 

Hoon: You are definitely handling things in a way I wouldn’t even recommend to my worst enemy!

Hoon: But things have a weird way of working out for you so

Hoon: Don’t worry too much 💪

Jake: Thanks?

The morning rush has thinned, and the emptying buffet trays aren’t his favourite sight—congealed scrambled eggs at their edges. He fills his plate anyway, hungry and happy enough to ignore how yellow the eggs are. At the nearest table, he chews absently, crunching crispy bacon, sipping pulpy orange juice, and his mind drifts. Jay’s voice, Sunghoon’s text, the lingering hum of a hundred past conversations—background noise. He pulls out his phone before he even registers the impulse, thumbs flying over the screen. 

Jake: Hey, pretty girl :) how was your night?

YN: It was good! And then Yizhuo threw up all over the smoking area which was.. terrifying 

YN: But I was in bed at 1 a.m. which I’m counting as a positive!

Jake: Sorry about Yizhuo, how’s she feeling? How are you feeling? 

Jake: Damn it’s early, are you okay? 

YN: Okay, 20 questions 🤨 Like shit. Good. On my way! To Pilates.

Still hungry after breakfast, Jake leaves the dining hall to take a shower and pack his bag before they leave. He sleeps for the whole journey, head on top of Jay’s. 

When they step off the bus at uni, Jake waves goodbye to the team and heads straight for his car—he doesn’t go home. The drive is endless, knee bouncing at every red light, grip tight on the wheel. When he reaches your building, an older couple lingers by the entrance, hand in hand, giggling. He slips past them, taking the stairs two at a time. At your door, he stops, hunching over to catch his breath before knocking. 

It takes a while, but Jimin opens the door, her smile falling when she sees him. “Jake, hi,” she says quietly, though it sounds like a question. She doesn’t step aside to let him in. “She’s not home, you just missed her actually. Jaemin picked her up.” 

Just hearing Jaemin’s name is like a stake to the chest. Jake tenses without meaning to, jaw tight. He’s been avoiding the guy like the plague since Jaehyun’s birthday, when he cornered Jake in the kitchen. “Are you two, like, serious, or what?” he asked, voice low even though they were alone.

Throughout ten years of friendship, Jake had been asked that question more times than he could count. Throughout four years of pining, it was one of two questions that made him want to throw himself into oncoming traffic. He didn’t need to follow Jaemin’s eyeline or hear another word to know exactly what he meant. Who he meant—you, of course. In the living room, laughing with the birthday boy, Jake’s jacket slung over your shoulders as you waited for him to bring you a can of Sprite. 

Jake only shrugged, the red cup of water in his left hand crunching a little under his tightening grip. “We’re friends.” 

“So I’m allowed to ask her out?”

That was the second question that got under Jake’s skin—not just because it was reductive, but because it wasn’t his decision to make. And yet, there came Jaemin, like every guy before him, asking as if they really think that if Jake had any say in it, you’d be with anyone but him. 

With a sigh, he said, “I’m not her father, Jaemin. It’s up to her.”

Jaemin smiled, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear. “You got a light?”

“No.” He shook his head, shoving his clenched fist into his back pocket, the cool metal of his lighter grazing his right knuckle. “Can’t smoke in here anyway, mate.”

The memory slams into him, full-force, knocks the wind out of him. “He did?”

“She didn’t tell you?” Jimin tilts her head. “Weird.”

His brain stalls, unsure which thought to torture himself with first: that you’re seeing Jaemin, or that you didn’t tell him. As it turns out, the more hurtful thought is of the text you sent him an hour ago while he was asleep on the bus, the reason he’s even here.

YN: Travel safe, Jakey, I can’t wait to see youuuuu <3 

Jimin’s hand reaches for the door. “Goodbye.” 

His lips part, trying to gather his thoughts, to say something before the door clicks shut in his face. Nothing comes to mind, but your voice rings out into the silence. “Who’s at the door?” The sound of it rattles through him, curious, gentle as ever, and the seconds that pass stretch out in front of him, vast and unending. 

Jimin only frowns, her shoulders slumping. She seems more disturbed by the fact that now she’ll have to let him in than the fact that she’s been caught lying. “Oops,” she says simply, leaving the door open as she goes back to her room. 

Sighing, Jake leaves his shoes next to yours and locks the door behind him, his fingers fumbling a little as he twists the key. Smelling food, he goes straight to the kitchen where he finds you. You’re standing by the stove, hair covering your face, lost in the task at hand: trying to tear open a bag of cheese without scissors. You succeed. Before he says a word, you look over at him, and the grin that spreads over your lips makes his stomach swoop, butterflies tumbling around like they’re looking for a point of exit. You’re perfect. There’s something about that smile that brightens everything around you, grounding and dizzying him all at once.

“Hey,” he says, breathless, smiling too. 

You turn off the stove before stepping into his space, arms looping around his waist like you need this as much as he does. “Jakey,” you mumble into his chest.

It’s nice to see you, he can’t overstate that, and he suspects it always will be. Yet, even with you in his arms, he can’t smooth out the crease in his brows, can’t relax into your touch like he wants to—like he’s been thinking about since he left yesterday. The only thing on his mind is whatever the fuck is going on with Jimin, and how to ask you about it. 

“I see you’ve done your food shop,” he says dumbly, looking over your head at the pot on the stove. 

“Uh huh.” You nod, tilting your head back to look at him. “I even got those chocolates you like.”

Jake smiles, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, liking the way you lean into his touch. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You shrug, but the softness of your voice betrays your attempt at nonchalance. “I wanted to make sure you had a reason to come and see me.”

“You’re being really sweet,” he says, frowning. He doesn’t mean to sound suspicious, but for some reason, it’s easier to question you than to believe you might actually want him here. He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. Your skin is warm, but not feverish. Normal. Still, he keeps it there. “You feeling okay?” 

You roll your eyes, catching his wrist and pulling his hand away. “Are you okay? You look like Jimin caught you out there praying for pussy.”

It would have been less mortifying if she had. He chuckles, an awkward huff of air that sounds more like a strangled cough than anything close to a laugh. Pressing his fist to his mouth, he clears his throat as if it will somehow clear the feeling in his chest, too. As if summoned simply by Jake thinking about her, Jimin comes into the kitchen, buttoning up her coat. Her eyes skip over him like he’s not there, her smile reserved for you. 

“I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” she says, opening her arms. 

You step forward without hesitation, slipping into her embrace like it’s second nature. The hug is warm and sweet, the two of you in your own world while Jake is stuck in its orbit, watching it spin without him. “I’ll miss you,” you say sincerely. “Text me when you get there.”

Jimin ruffles your hair when you pull away, smiling when you protest. “I miss you already.” And with that, she squeezes your wrist affectionately before turning on her heel without so much as a glance in his direction.

At the sound of the front door swinging shut, Jake sighs, glancing at it like he expects her to reappear. To say it was all a big joke, that she was doing a bit, and hug him too—the way she would have done a month ago, before.. 

It’s quiet in the flat—just you and him. He shifts on his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets, watching you watch the pot on the stove. You take off its foggy lid, steam curling out as you sprinkle grated cheddar into it—cheese dakgalbi. His mouth waters. 

Silence persists. Not awkward, not quite comfortable. He has to ask. “Did you ask Jimin to pretend you weren’t home?”

A laugh bubbles out of you, amused by the mere suggestion. You shake your head. “No.”

Jake sniffs, his voice quieter than before. “Is she mad at me or something?” He tries for casual, but he sounds a bit pathetic. 

You give him a look—confused, as if you didn’t see the way she’d ignored him. “Did she tell you I wasn’t home?” 

He nods slowly, saying nothing about the Jaemin-shaped elephant in his proverbial mind-room. Instead, he reaches into the cupboard behind him, the hinge creaking softly as he pulls out a bowl for you. He hands it over without meeting your eyes.

“Aren’t you hungry?” 

There’s too much going on in his head to navigate your line of questioning. “What are you talking about?”

You hold up the dish like the answer to his question is written on its base. “One bowl,” you say—it isn’t, by the way, the answer. He looked.  

“I’m not staying,” he says without meaning to, though now that he’s thinking about it, he likes the idea of going home and being alone with his thoughts. It might even be nice to sit in silence on the couch with Sunghoon if he’s home. 

Putting the bowl down, you take a step back, and scoff. Defensive. Hurt, he thinks. You sigh. “Why are you here then?” 

Your question, your tone, makes him feel a little silly. Silly for cancelling his plans with Jay to come here. Really silly, actually. For thinking you missed him too. For thinking, can’t wait to see you, meant anything more than just something nice to say to a friend who’s been away. 

“Well.. I don’t know.” Jake shrugs. “I just wanted to look at you or something, I guess. Make sure you were alright.”

Your expression softens, a step towards him, eyes — wide, searching — meeting his. “Stay, Jake. Please.”

His breath catches, taken aback by this unprompted offering of vulnerability—asking him to stay because you want him to, not because he asked if he should. He wonders if it could always be like this. If you could be like this with him again. Open. Gentle. Like before. 

“Did you miss me?” Jake asks, greedy for you to open up. To give him more than just a little. “While I was away?”

“It was one night.” 

“So? I missed you,” he admits. 

Your eyes flicker over his face, but you don’t answer. No, you roll your eyes like he’s being ridiculous—it bothers him though he knows it shouldn’t. He approaches you before he can think better of it, hands finding the counter on either side of you, caging you in. You don’t resist or pull away, only tilting your head to meet his gaze. And fuck, you’re right there and so beautiful. Close enough for him to see the way your eyes widen ever-so-slightly. Close enough that his pulse trips over itself.

“Why won’t you tell me you missed me?” he asks. 

You arch a brow. “Why do you want me to tell you if you already know?” 

Jake exhales sharply, tilting his head, pressing his fingertips into the counter like it’ll ground him. “I just—” He pauses. Swallows. Tries again. “Please.”

A hesitation. He feels your hand on his waist, your fingers squeezing. Sees the way your lips part, like you might actually say it. But you don’t. “Why?” you ask instead. 

He blinks, throat working around an answer that won’t come out. And suddenly, he feels stupid. Standing here, begging you to say something he already knows, something that shouldn’t matter so much. His eyes flick to yours, and he tries again, softer this time, whispering, “Please, baby.”

Finally, you break, quietly confessing, “I hate being away from you.” And it’s a million times better.

A startled breath escapes him, soft and disbelieving. His heart stumbles over itself, warmth flooding his chest. He blinks at you, processing, the words replaying in his head, sweeter each time. His fingers twitch against the countertop, resisting the urge to touch you, but you’re looking at the floor, and that won’t do. Gently, he tilts your chin up, your eyes meeting his—all wide and pretty, uncertainty flickering in them. 

He swallows, voice unsteady. “Say it again.”

A slow smile curves your lips, and he sees the flash of realisation in your eyes—you’ve got him, you know you do. “I hate being away from you, Jake,” you repeat, confident now. 

The shape of the words on your lips, how they roll off your tongue, hitting him with so much affection it’s a wonder he doesn’t burst into tears. Those words spoken to him, in your voice, by you. He takes a deep breath. “See? That wasn’t so bad,” he says, trying to tease but his voice is too soft. 

You roll your eyes, but your lips are twitching, fighting a smile. “It was excruciating.” 

Jake hums, brushing his thumb along your jaw, memorising the feel of you, liking the way you gulp. “My poor girl,” he teases, a pout on his lips. “I was about to drop it, you know. One more why, and I’d have let you off the hook.”

And then — before you can fire back some sharp remark — he kisses you. 

He takes his time, desperate — quite frankly — to make up for what he missed yesterday morning. His hands find the small of your back, pulling you close as if he can’t bear being away from you again. Every touch is a relief, his gratitude and adoration poured into the warmth of his lips against yours. A tiny sound, low and wanting, slips from your mouth to his, stirring his chest. When he pulls away, your lips linger, and he almost can’t find in him to break the connection. You chase his kiss, whining a little—so cute it weakens his knees, and he can’t help but smile, liking the flutter in his stomach.

Looking down at you, he exhales shakily, heart pounding. Overwhelming warmth fills him up, crams itself into every single part of him, knowing that this is real. That you’re real, and you’re here, with him. 

“That wasn’t so bad either, huh?” he asks, giggling, his voice almost as light as he feels.

You beam at him before hiding your face in his chest, letting out a giddy laugh as he rubs circles on your back, chin on top of your head. You hate being away from him. The words echo in his head, surreal, sweet.

He’s not convinced he’ll ever stop smiling. 

Until his stomach growls, loud, slicing the quiet. Another laugh from you, the sound vibrating through him — too real to be imagined — as you pinch his waist. “Come on, baby,” you say, eyes sparkling. “Let’s eat.” 

You slip out of his hold, and Jake, helpless to do anything but follow, wraps his arms around your waist at the stove. His chest is pressed to your back, fingers curling into your sides so you don’t leave again. If you mind, you don’t voice it. You sway a little against him, humming the same song he was listening to on the bus. 

Why can’t he stay here, with you, like this, forever?

His bowl warms his lap while you put your glasses on, turning on the TV. Gossip Girl fills the screen, the voices familiar, comforting, fading into the background when you sit, your thigh pressed against his. He wonders if you realise how much of the space in his head you occupy. The flavours are rich, familiar, perfect—he’s never had cheese dakgalbi as good as yours. He sighs happily. Heart skipping a beat when he glances over at you, finding you already looking at him. You hate being away from him. Lips kiss-bitten, lenses foggy from the steam. You give a tender smile. 

Jake bites back a grin, stuffing chicken into his mouth so he doesn’t speak and admit to something crazy—the future in his head, with you. Your child (children if you want them, a dog if you don’t (hopefully a dog even if you do)), and countless nights together like this for the rest of your natural lives. 

Beside him, sane, you give commentary—perfect outfits, Serena’s hair, ugh, why is Chuck here? He nods, too far gone to do anything but copy your homework and change the answers a bit. That dress is beautiful, there’s probably tutorials if you look, why is Chuck here?

After he clears his bowl and what you couldn’t finish from yours, you make a pillow out of his shoulder. Sighing, you get comfortable while he inhales the familiar scent of your shampoo, your hair brushing his cheek. Shifting closer, you press into him, his arm tightening around you. It doesn’t take long for your breath to even out. Jake’s chest swells, overwhelmed by how much he likes this. He presses his lips to the top of your head, the softest kiss of his life, and lets his eyes flutter shut. 

He hates being away from you too.

Jake has rescheduled this dinner with his parents so many times, his mother actually called him. He didn’t answer. Instead, he flinched, threw his phone to the other end of the couch and waited for the ringing to stop. If it weren’t for his dad texting to ask about it, he wouldn’t be standing on the doorstep of his family home doing breathing exercises. 

He takes one last deep breath before putting his key in the lock. Inhale. One, two, three. Exhale. One, two, three. Open the door. “I’m home!” he calls out, stepping inside and taking off his shoes. 

Jake’s mother gasps in the kitchen as if she’s surprised, jogging out into the hall. “Jaeyun!” she cries, arms flung around him. “Oh, my boy, it’s so good to see you.” 

He only nods, letting go prematurely, long before she releases him. 

“It’s just a shame you’re harder to reach than the Prodigal Son.”

“Yeah.” Jake gives her a tight smile, a slow nod. “Just got a lot on at the minute with uni. Good to be home though.” 

She’s already heading back to the kitchen, talking over her shoulder. “Dinner’s nearly ready, so you’ve come at the perfect time. You might think about changing?”

With furrowed brows, he looks down at his outfit. Jeans. Jumper. Hardly unpresentable. “I think I’m alright, actually, Mum,” he says, following behind her. 

Seeing his dad stand up from the table tugs Jake’s lips into a boyish grin. “Dad,” he whispers, breathless, pleased, allowing himself to be pulled into a hug, his dad’s unchanged cologne hitting his nose. Floral, warm. Strong arms around him. 

“How are you, son?” he asks, quiet, private, just for them. 

“I’m good, Dad. I’m good.”

The simmer of broth. Oil frying eggs in a pan. The smell of beef strikes him, turning his hunger fierce. His stomach rumbles quietly, unsoothed by his attempts at rubbing it. He asks if his mother needs a hand, and she waves him off, shakes her head, it’s her pleasure to cook for her son. She’s wearing her apron, the same red checkered one she’s had for as long as he remembers, stirring a pot by the stove. She looks so motherly like this. As if she might come over and kiss the top of his head just because. Pat his back and say good job for simply existing. It’s all very maternal of her, like that instinct has finally kicked in, twenty short years postpartum. Maternal in a way that digs a nasty pit in his stomach. The mum-in-a-million, best-mum-ever figure he always thought Big Mum made up to push Mother’s Day cards. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” his dad asks. 

That word choice sticks out to him, it’s almost been a full year of anyones and peoples from his dad and it still warms his heart in a way he’s not sure he’ll ever adjust to. There had been some.. concerns when he was younger and innocently introduced his first school friend, Jaehyun, to his parents as his boyfriend. Concerns that were not entirely baseless, as Jake’s teenage years would soon reveal to him. 

“Any nice girls?” his mother corrects from the kitchen, not looking away from the drawer as she takes cutlery out. “Oh, who was that girl you used to be friends with? What was her name? From school, Jaeyun? Funny girl. Her mother used to teach you, what was she called?” 

Jake mumbles your name, reminds her that the two of you are still friends. He’s not sure why she insists on this song and dance, when both of them know she wouldn’t exactly be happy if he brought you — or anyone — home. He bites the inside of cheek remembering you — age fourteen — sitting at this very table, passing Jake the salt shaker and scrunching up your nose at the mention of church. Church? No, my parents said church is for people who think they’re better than everyone else. Only Jake and his dad found that funny.

She puts cutlery down for all three of them, looking down at him after placing his chopsticks. “The atheist?” she asks, saying the A-word with a certain level of distaste that Jake can’t help find amusing. 

“Yes, mum. The atheist,” he confirms, holding back a laugh at the amused smile his dad — the other atheist — wears.

There’s a look on her face when she hums, as if satisfied he acknowledged your lack of faith out loud. “I mean, you’re a bit young for a relationship, anyway.” 

“I’m twenty,” he points out. 

She raises her brow from over the kitchen island, stopping in her tracks with a steaming pot in hand. “Do you want to get married?” 

Jake shrugs, watching as she puts the pot on the table, letting the smell of short ribs envelop him. “I mean.. not right now, but at some point? Maybe?” The words leave his mouth unthinkingly, seeming wrong as soon as he says them. 

“So why would you be looking for a girlfriend?”

His mouth opens and promptly closes again, unsure of what to say. Jake glances at his dad, but he only takes a sip of his water. He’s not going to argue with her—he never does. 

“Look.” His mother sighs, tucking her hair behind her ears as she takes a seat at the table next to his dad. “A lot of people your age are out drinking and having sex, and I understand that’s how this country is, but that is not how we raised you, Jaeyun—we didn’t bring you here for that. Sex isn’t about your age; it’s about marriage. And until then, you shouldn’t even be thinking about it, never mind having it.”

Mortified, he runs a hand over his face. “I’m not having sex. Jeez, Mum.” It’s a lie that only gets harder to say the more he tells it. He might actually abstain — even from hand stuff — until marriage, if he has this conversation again. 

“Are you drinking?” 

“No, I’m not drinking.” This lie is easier. “I’m an athlete.” Because half of it is true. 

His mother tilts her head, affronted. “Jaeyun, you’re a Christian first.” 

A familiar tension wraps around him, not any easier to manage for how often he feels it around her. “You’re right, Mum. Sorry.” 

She seems pleased enough with this, her eyes lingering on him for a beat before they narrow. “I heard from Sieun’s mum that you weren’t at church this week.” Of course, she heard. She is always hearing things about Jake, and Sieun’s mum always seems to be the one saying them.

“I had a game.” 

“On Sabbath?” 

There is, for Jake, no winning where his mother is concerned. Because, of course, his breaking of the Sabbath is what matters right now. Never mind that he’s playing at a level she used to brag to her friends about. Never mind that he’s doing that, and getting top marks in his classes, and still finding time for family dinner every other week. Never mind that last term he spent two days with an IV drip in his arm from overworking himself and she didn’t text him back when he told her.

Jake’s jaw tightens, teeth grinding as he forces himself to swallow the words burning on his tongue. A glance at his dad, who’s staring down at his empty plate, pretending not to hear. Finally, he clears his throat, setting his glass down with deliberate care, a delicate arm over his wife’s shoulders. “Honey..” He trails off, eyes flicking to his son quickly. “How about we say grace before dinner gets cold?” 

Conflicted relief settles over Jake’s shoulders at this. He knew his dad would step in eventually. He had to. This is the man who sat him down at thirteen and explained consent to him in careful, measured words—again at seventeen before he moved out. The man who passed him a beer on a fishing trip when he was sixteen, told him to sip slowly, to learn the taste so he wouldn’t feel the need to prove anything to anyone later. Who had wrapped him in a hug, kissed the top of his head last year when he said he likes boys too. You’re my only son, Jaeyun. I want you to be happy. He can’t look at his dad, see the hard lines of his face, the silver strands of his hair, without seeing that too.

He nods obediently when his mother tells him to pray, holds hands with his parents, closes his eyes. His dad’s rough hand squeezes his and he smiles. “Dear Lord, thank you for giving us the opportunity to sit around the table tonight as a family. Please bless the food we’re about to eat, and the hands that made it. In your name’s sake we pray, amen.”

With that, they eat ugeoji galbitang—Jake’s favourite. He likes it too much to let anything, even his mother (who makes it best), ruin it for him. Luckily, his dad steers the conversation, shares his wins at work, compliments Jake’s highlight tape from the game over the weekend, talks about the trash movie he’s got lined up for them to watch tonight. 

Tonight. Together. As a family. Jake always spends the night after dinner, no exceptions. But he’s certain that if he spends any longer than he needs to in this house, he’ll die. He needs to come up with something, an excuse, a lie, something suddenly remembered. A commitment heavy enough that he must leave at once to attend to it. He thinks about Sunghoon, about you—but Jake’s mother is a blood is thicker than water kind of woman, and in her eyes, the only things thicker than blood are God and school. 

He clears his throat, takes a sip of water, keeps a hold on his glass even when he puts it down. “That sounds great, Dad—I mean Operation Christmas Drop sounds truly awful, but I have a paper due tonight and it’s saved on a USB so I’ll have to go home to submit it.” 

His mother continues to eat, unbothered. It’s hard to watch his dad’s smile falter, but he nods, understanding. “Another time, then.” 

Dinner continues, marked mostly by the clatter of cutlery—chopsticks on side plate, spoon on bowl. There are a lot of negative things Jake could say about his mother, but she’s the only woman in the world who could call him an embarrassment for quitting violin at fifteen, then console him with her cooking. Even the simplest sides — her fried eggs and white rice — move Jake beyond words.

He clears the table when they finish eating, his parents packing up the leftovers while speaking quietly to one another as Jake washes the dishes. He strains his ears over the running water, but it’s no use, only catching murmured honeys and nos. Coming home is a bit like being caught in a loop sometimes, like he’s checking off boxes on a list: 

1. Mum warns Jake about premarital sex

2. Jake lies and says he’s not having it

3. Dad sits in silence, pretending he didn’t buy Jake condoms when he went off to college

4. Substitute sex for some other mostly harmless vice 

5. Rinse and repeat. 

This absurd script they’re following, these roles they all fall into, time and time again. He can’t be the only one exhausted by this. 

Jake dries his hands with the dish towel hanging from the oven door and scratches at the back of his neck. “I’d really better go,” he says. “Thanks again for dinner, Mum.” 

He doesn’t hang around for her response, taking the stairs two at a time until he gets to his room. Slipping on his jacket, he looks around at the walls again. Certificates, postcards. Barer now since he took some of his favourite posters with him when he moved. Still, his Dune poster, brought home from a midnight showing, hangs above his bed. He’d stayed at Jaehyun’s house that night—his mother would never let him out so late with friends. As much as he loves it — the outline of Timothée Chalamet, Paul, tall and trim in his stillsuit — he left it behind. A quiet reminder of his small rebellion. 

Leaving always feels so final, like he has to memorise the details of his childhood room even though he’ll be back in two weeks. A sighs, more than ready to leave, but stops short, seeing the photo booth strip under his light switch. You and him, frozen in the pink frames of a four-cut photo, sixteen forever. In the last shot, your arm is around his shoulders, lips pressed to his cheek. Back then, he didn’t think he liked you—not the way he does now. But his skin had burned where you kissed him, and he hadn’t washed his face that night, afraid to lose the trace of your clear lip gloss. 

After four years, the memory sends a swarm of butterflies through his stomach, his fingers reaching up to brush his left cheek. He takes the photo, slipping it into his jacket pocket before joining his parents at the door. 

“I just want you to make good decisions,” his mother says, hugging him. Her perfume is floral, familiar. He breathes it in, holding on just a second longer than normal.

“I’m trying.”

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” his dad says, already putting on his shoes.

Jake’s chest tightens. He gulps, nodding, waves at his mother. Her eyes burn holes into his back as he follows his dad out. March’s breeze whips his jacket, lunchboxed leftovers warm his palms. They walk in silence to Jake’s car. 

“Are you happy, Jaeyun?” His dad’s voice is soft, careful. “None of this matters if you aren’t.” His calloused fingers rub at the back of Jake’s neck—a comfort. “Not your grades, not football, not church.. It’s no use working so hard if you’re not happy.”

Jake nods. “I am usually,” he admits. 

A grin. Crinkled eyes. “That’s all I ask of you.”

“Are you happy, Dad?”

His dad’s face softens, shoulders relaxing. “With you as my son?” A chuckle slips out of him. “How could I not be happy?” He pulls Jake into a tight hug, his arms strong and steady. Jake squeezes back, fingers gripping his dad’s shirt.

“I love you,” Jake says, the words muffled against his dad’s shoulder. 

His dad holds him even tighter. “I love you, son.”

They pull apart slowly, reluctant. A shared exhale. Breeze biting, still. 

“Drive safe, okay?” 

Jake nods, unlocking the car. “I will.”

His dad smiles again, giving him a nod before heading back to the house. The porch light is off when Jake starts his car. 

Thirty silent minutes pass by in a blur, unregistered until he’s taking off his seatbelt outside his building. Backpack on, leftovers in hand, he goes inside, dragging his feet up the stairs to the eighth floor. He doesn’t even have to slow his pace or catch his breath at the door to his flat—at least the gym is paying off. 

Sunghoon isn’t home. Monday night. Evening practice. Jake leaves the food on the kitchen counter to cool down and goes to his room. His bed, neatly made, fresh sheets, looks tempting, but he has other plans for the night. He gets changed and sits on the couch, waiting for Sunghoon.

For the next hour, his phone goes off regularly, but none of the notifications are from you so he doesn’t care. It only dawns on Jake that he can simply text you when he wants to see your name in his phone.

Jake: Can I come over? 

YN: I thought you had family dinner tn?

YN: Oh. I’m not at home but you can call me!!! My signal is a bit shit on the train rn but you can always call me, Jake

Jake: It’s okay, usual shit w my mum lol

Jake: Idk why I always think things will be different when I go there and always get surprised when they’re not

YN: I’m sorry she gives you such a hard time, baby

YN: I know you don’t feel like it but you’re doing such a good job. You’re juggling shit I don’t even want to imagine and you still make time for football and all your uni stuff and to make everyone in your life feel special. I promise you’re not fucking anything up at all.

YN: You don’t have to keep going over there, you know.. I get you like seeing your dad but surely you two can hang out alone? Another fishing trip, maybe? I know you had a really good time in the summer

The summer—the fishing trip, the beer, the hug. He smiles. 

Jake: Yeah, maybe

When he hits send, a key turns in the lock. Sunghoon—whistling to himself after practice. It’s nice one of them had a good Monday, that’s half of the people in the flat. Much better than thirty seconds ago, when a hundred percent of people in the flat were having a terrible day. His footsteps pad down the hall and he freezes in the doorway, brows raising in surprise. A beat. “Hey, buddy. I didn’t know you’d be back tonight.”

Jake clears his throat, but the roughness of his voice persists. “Left early.”

Sunghoon hums, nodding once before he leaves, coming back in a t-shirt and sweatpants, two beers in hand as he sits on the couch. He hands one to Jake, pulls the tab on his own, and takes a long, slow sip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” Jake shakes his head. “I put some ugeoji galbitang in the fridge for you. I don’t know if you saw.”

“Nice, man, thanks.” 

These are the last words from either of them for hours. Even when one of them gets up to use the toilet, or Sunghoon goes to get more beer. It’s not until two a.m. that they speak again. 

“Are you alright if I turn in? I need to be up soon.” Sunghoon yawns, arms stretched out in front of him. 

Jake nods, yawning too. “Yeah, of course. I should get some sleep anyway.” 

Sunghoon lingers, his hand curling and uncurling on the edge of the couch. “You sure?” he asks, only standing when Jake nods again. 

Jake collects the cans, flicking the lamp off on the way out. He turns towards the kitchen but stops in his tracks, looking over his shoulder. Sunghoon’s heading to the bathroom, hand on the doorknob when Jake says, “Thank you.” For being my best friend. For doing nothing with me for hours, he doesn’t say. 

Yet Sunghoon seems to understand. He always does. In three steps, he reaches Jake, a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “You’re my best friend,” he says, matter-of-factly, and leaves Jake in the hall, locking the bathroom door behind him. 

When Sunghoon is done, Jake goes to the bathroom, brushes his teeth. He steps into the shower, appreciating the heat of the water on his skin, how he reddens under it. Washes his face, his hair. Stands aimlessly under the spray until he starts worrying about the planet. He feels a bit better after this. Moisturises in his room, puts Vaseline on his lips, gets into bed. 

He’s lying on his side, staring at the wall. He pats around the mattress for his phone, finding it and calling you without thinking. It rings out, because, of course, you can always call me, Jake, does not mean: call me at three in the morning. 

He looks at his screen for so long it locks. Too dark to see his reflection on it. Thankfully. He opens your text thread, drafting a message. Called by mistake HAHAHAHAHA dw! Delete. Sorry for calling so late, maybe we could hang out when you’re up? Coff—there’s a knock at his door and he locks his phone, tucking it under his pillow like a child. 

“What is it?” he calls out. 

The door clicks open behind him, closes softly. Your voice. “Hey, Jakey.” 

He sits up immediately, your name falling out of his mouth like a question. You’re standing there in your pyjamas, angelic, everything he’s ever wanted, blued by the moon shining through his window.  And if he wasn’t so upset, so convinced he’s making this all up, he would scold you for coming over at this time in only a vest and shorts. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move too abruptly, so as not to disrupt the dreamscape. Slowly, carefully, he lifts the end of his duvet, a silent invitation. You step towards him, crawling into his arms, soft skin warm on his, a kiss to his chest. 

This is.. real? 

You are real?

Turning on his lamp, he pushes your hair from your face, studying you. Soft bow of your lips, gentle slope of your nose, flutter of your lashes when you blink. Lamplight cuts sharp orange angles over your cheekbone, carving you out of the dark. He kisses you, a fleeting press of his lips to yours. To check. 

You are real, and breathtaking, always so breathtaking, and here, with him.

“How did you..?” He trails off, unsure what to ask—get here? Know I needed this? 

“Hoon called and came to pick me up,” you say, answering both of his questions at once.

This is.. overwhelming. Beyond. That Sunghoon would think to call you, go so far as to pick you up at this hour. That you would get out of bed for this—for him. That there are people in his life, bound only to him by choice, who care this much. Jake swallows around the lump in his throat, eyes stinging with hot tears, desperate to spill. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, cupping his cheek in your palm. “I’m so sorry, baby.” 

Baby. Your baby. He has half a mind to tell you he loves you, but he’s touched, not insane, so he bites his tongue. Hides his face in the crook of your neck. 

“Oh, Yunie,” you say, stroking his back, your touch a grounding force. “I wish there was something I could do.”

He kisses the spot where your neck and shoulder meet. Lifts his head. Smiles as the first tear slips from his cheek onto yours. “You’re here.” 

Jake kisses your lips—soft, fleeting, hardly more than a peck. It’s not enough. Another kiss, longer, lingering, your warmth undoing him. Wrapping you in his arms, he tucks you close to his chest, clinging onto you like a lifeline. I love you. Over and over, he thinks it. Prayers on a rosary. So loud in his head he’s not convinced you can’t hear him. His eyes flutter shut, and with your steady breath on his skin, he lets himself fall asleep. 

Jake wakes up first, grinning at the sight of you curled against him, your face squished into his chest. His arms tighten instinctively, as if to keep you there, as if you might slip away. He watches you, still as he can, taking in the quiet, the warmth, you. As if sensing his gaze, you open your eyes, sleep-heavied blinks as you look up at him. You shift in his hold, turning your head enough to see his alarm clock. 08:46. A groan leaves your lips, and you bury your face back into his chest. 

He kisses the top of your head, mumbling against it. “Morning, baby.” 

Your groan doesn’t stop, drawn-out, dejected, rumbling against his skin until you tip your head back. “Come shower with me.” Your voice is thick with sleep, the words said as if you think it might be the only solution for your suffering. 

And it would be rude of him not to at least help you find out.

Jake has definitely had more productive showers, but he’s never had a better one than this. Skin on skin. Lips on lips, and neck, and chest. Slippery hands all over each other. Wet heat overwhelming him—press of bodies, rush of water. Trembling breath, racing heart. Your fingers around his wrist, guiding his hand between your thighs. 

By the time you’re clean, and moisturised, there’s only twenty minutes until your class starts. Pulling a pair of his sweatpants over your hips, you make a joke, laughing to yourself as you blame Jake for what you started. He’s a terrible influence, using his masculine wiles to seduce, corrupt, and make you late. 

He snorts, shaking his head. “So I’m a pervert in this fantasy of yours?” 

“I think you like it, Jakey,” you say, walking towards him, arms looping around his neck, fingers in his hair, chuckling. “Making a harlot out of an honest woman.”

Jake pinches your waist, liking the way it makes you jolt and squeal—trying to focus on that instead of the sharpness of the word harlot against his ears. He almost shudders, jarred by its dissonance. Sounding more like a word that might share a page with some of the other words that have disturbed him recently. Words he’s done a good job of pushing to the back of his mind—words he’s putting in a lot of effort to keep there. He sniffs, leaning down to kiss you. It was a joke, Jake. You were joking. It was a Christmas joke.

“Alright, Virgin Mary,” he mumbles against your lips, pulling away before you accuse him of further debasing. “Let’s go.” 

He drives you home so you can get your stuff, and you make a beeline for your room when you arrive. He doesn’t follow. Instead, he takes a deep breath and knocks on Jimin’s door. 

She groans when she sees him, head falling back. “What?” she huffs, voice thick with irritation. 

“Can we talk?” he shifts on his feet. “Please?” 

Jimin’s answer takes a while. She eyes him with her arms crossed over her chest. He can’t help looking over his shoulder, at your closed door, wondering how long you’ll take to change and pack your bag. With a sigh, Jimin steps aside, and he takes a cautious step in, making a point to stay near the door as he closes it—unsure how welcome he really is. 

“What did I do to you?” he asks hesitantly, watching as she sits on the end of her unmade bed. 

“You didn’t do anything to me.” Jimin shrugs, continuing when Jake opens his mouth to speak. “But I’m sure you’ll forgive me if I don’t trust the ‘innocent’ guy best friend who pounces at the first chance he gets.”

“Pounces?” he repeats, like it’s his first time hearing the word. “I’m not an animal, Jimin. There was no pouncing. If anything, she pounced on me.”

“So she’s an animal, is that what you’re saying?” 

Jake sighs, seeing there’s no way to win here. “Sure,” he says dryly. “She’s a tiger. Happy?” 

This doesn’t amuse Jimin. “What do you want with her?” 

He shrugs like he hasn’t given it much thought. “I want whatever she wants. If she wants to hook up, we’ll hook up. If she doesn’t, we won’t.” 

“You like her.” It’s not a question, but an accusation that softens her voice, raises her brows. 

Jake chews his lip, and that’s enough. Jimin’s jaw drops. “Oh, my God. I was worried you were going to hurt her, and this whole time I should’ve been worried about her hurting you.” She shakes her head, a laugh of disbelief coming out. “Good luck.”

He’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. 

Until it involved him, Jake hadn’t heard much about your sex life since first year. Thankfully. Kim Mingyu — Hot Mingyu, as you and Jimin still call him — is the last name he remembers. Older, massive, lived up to his moniker. He was always talking about the gym or his tech start-up, and eventually, he ended things because he didn’t believe Jake was just your friend. Jake suspects that the memory of Hot Mingyu will stick with him forever, because it was the first time it ever occurred to him that he didn’t want to be just friends with you. 

Jimin apologises, opening her arms and approaching him. She says that she should’ve known. Quiet, sympathetic, Jake thinks, hating it. But the door swings open, hitting his back before she can hug him. You poke your head into the room with a smile, oblivious. “Ready to go?” 

Back in the car, you try to peer pressure Jake into speeding, and he appeases you, doing thirty-two miles per hour in a thirty zone. Giving up with a huff, you turn your body away from him, knees against the passenger door. He’s too busy thinking about what Jimin said to comment—what the fuck does good luck mean?

And he’s so busy trying to figure that out, he doesn’t even realise you’re still wearing his sweatpants until you get out of the car. “Thanks for the lift, Jakey.”

Jakey smiles. Jakey waves. Jakey watches you leave. Jakey sits in his car for an hour before going home. 

He finds Sunghoon—home from practice, and eating an early lunch by the kitchen window. Standing, like he always does when he eats alone. “Hey, buddy,” he says, glancing quickly over his shoulder. “Feeling better?” 

Without a second thought — or a first one — Jake charges towards him, tackling him more than he hugs him. “Thank you.” 

Sunghoon goes stiff, completely tense in Jake’s hold. A shrug, slow and unnatural. “Don’t mention it,” he says, voice strained. A single, awkward pat of Jake’s back. “Could you please let go of me now? For a minute?” 

Apologising, Jake quickly releases him, feeling bad for the ambush. “I’m going to thank you again for last night, and I need you to accept it this time. You didn’t have to do that for me, but you did it anyway.”

Sunghoon turns, amused, leaning against the wall and taking a spoonful of yoghurt to the mouth. “I’m waiting.”

“Thank you, Sunghoon. Really.”

“You’re welcome, Jake,” he says, monotone, but his eyes are soft and he’s smiling. “And if you’re going to the library today, can we go together? I’m slacking, man—I need to lock in. Quickly.”

Jake chuckles at his deflection, but nods and says, “Of course.” 

They have different approaches to studying — Sunghoon puts his headphones on, and hyper-fixates on his task for as many consecutive hours as he can; Jake swears by Pomodoro, twenty-five minutes on, five minutes off — but they work alongside each other quite effectively. Jake squints at AutoCAD. Sunghoon scrolls through physio clinic listings. Jake texts his dad, asking if they can go fishing soon. Sunghoon continues to look for summer placements. Parallel play. 

His Pomodoro timer goes off silently, a notification in the corner of his laptop screen, and he lets out a relieved breath—he has high hopes not to study anything architecture related after this term, in a perfect world, he’ll never have to so much as look at a building again. When he checks his phone, his dad has replied, suggesting that they go next weekend, and he’s still typing when Jake opens their thread.

Dad: And if you want, you can bring that ‘friend’ of yours. It would be nice to see her again. 

Dad: The atheist. 😆.

Jake: Yeah, dad, that sounds good haha. I’m sure she’d love to! I’ll ask

Sunghoon takes off his headphones, thick brows furrowed as he looks over at Jake. “Training starts, like, now, no?”

The time is bright and reproachful on Jake’s screen. 19:55. Five minutes to get to Coach’s office on the other end of the building. A jolt of panic launches him out of his seat, shoving his laptop and notebooks hurriedly into his bag while Sunghoon watches, yawning.

“Can I come?” 

The question catches him so off guard, his hand freezes over the zipper of his backpack. “What? To training?” Jake asks, cocking his head. “I mean, probably. We have analysis before we start so I’m not sure about that, but you can definitely watch us on the pitch if you want.” 

A sigh of relief, as he stands. Firm hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Thank God, bro—can’t be fucked walking home.”

They’re the last to arrive, but thankfully Coach isn’t there yet. None of the guys question Sunghoon’s presence, they’re actually more pleased to see him than they are their own teammate. He leads Sunghoon to the end of the room, instructing him not to draw attention to himself—he gives a thumbs-up, whispering, got it, when the door clicks open. 

The first thing Coach says is, “Who the fuck is this guy?”

Why he thought his gargantuan best friend could be inconspicuous anywhere, never mind standing right behind him, is anyone’s guess. Sunghoon, for some reason, says nothing. Jake clears his throat. “He’s—uh—he’s my flatmate, Coach.”

Coach sighs, rubs his face with his hand. “Whatever. Don’t speak unless I speak to you. Understand?” 

“Sir, yes, sir.” Sunghoon gives a firm nod, raising a hand in salute. 

Another sigh from Coach, wrinkles in his forehead showing as he mutters something to himself. “We have a lot to cover, so let’s not waste more time.” He pulls up the match video on his laptop—always calling them the highlights, but criticises them aggressively. “Yang, what have I told you about hogging the ball?” 

Jungwon’s smile is audible. “That I’ve improved a lot, and you’ve never seen a better sportsman than me.” This answer wins him a death glare. “Fine, I hogged the ball a little, but we won!” 

This seems to amuse Coach, who laughs and looks around the room. “A little, the boy says.” The video starts—a minute long clip of Jungwon with the ball at his feet, neglecting multiple opportunities to pass. No cuts. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t bench you.” 

“I’m not seeing the big deal here. We literally won.” 

“You didn’t win this weekend because you have a selfish striker,” Coach says coldly. “You won because the other team was incompetent. And if you keep playing like that, you’ll cost us the season.” 

Jungwon isn’t smiling anymore.

Analysis goes on like always. Backhanded praise; thinly-veiled insults; Coach is pleased with his decision to appoint Jay Captain—words that no longer form a lump in Jake’s throat. In fact, he even pats Jay on the back, smiling sincerely when he looks over. 

Jake: Post-match went well 💪

Dad: Of course, son. You played brilliantly! So proud. 😆. 

Training flies by in a blur of five-a-side games and recreations of some of the poorer plays from Saturday’s game, Coach giving real-time corrections with varying degrees of rudeness. And before he knows it, the final whistle blows, dismissing them. Jake jogs off the pitch, legs heavy with exertion, mind buzzing with the rush of playing. His shirt is damp with sweat, sticking uncomfortably to his stomach, but he can’t look away from his reflection in the locker room mirrors. Cheeks and neck flushed, glowing. He looks good. Feels good—too good to just stand there staring at himself. So, he takes his shirt off, and without much thought sends you a photo. 

YN: Day 537727272724733 without dick: I came just from seeing this picture

Jake: Has it been that long? 

YN: I can’t count how many times I squirted while looking at that

YN: Fr though come over rn. Need that bad.

Jake: Are you objectifying me?

YN: Is it working . 

Jake: Yes. But I need to drop off Riki and Hoon then shower so……..

Jake: Wait up for me?

YN: Fine. 

The drive to Riki’s place has never been so long, and Sunghoon sleeps the whole way. Growing impatient, Jake almost starts driving off before his teammate is even all the way out of the car. Every light is green on the way home, no traffic at all—a blessing, Jake thinks. He takes a quick shower, brushes his teeth, and leaves the flat in a hurry, sprinting down the stairs to get back to his car. 

He buckles his belt with shaking hands, a text lighting his phone screen. Checking it immediately, he sees that Sunoo sent a Reddit link to the team group chat: like palmer’s not one of the best players in the league rn. Curious, he clicks it, the app’s familiar logo colouring his screen orange, and before Sunoo’s video has the chance to load, something else catches his attention—the number 54 sitting on his notification tab. His heart sinks to his stomach, he knows exactly what’s waiting for him under there. But he clicks it anyway, rereads the post he made only two weeks ago now. And looks straight at the comments, knowing what they’ll say before he sees them. 

It is a sin, brother. And there is a demon inside of you that wants you to keep committing this sin. You need to repent and flee from fornication at once. This sin is extremely demonic, it took me away from Christ completely, and I was on my way to h*ll. 

The Holy Spirit is working in you. Thank God for giving you a conscience and do not go through with it no matter what. 

You want advice? Turn to 1 Corinthians 7:2 and Hebrews 13:4. The Bible is very clear that the only acceptable time for sex is after marriage. 

Honestly bro, just marry her lmao 

I lost my job, my girlfriend left me, and I got hit by a car after indulging in fornication. It is not worth it, my brother, take heed. I will pray for you. 

Jake’s brain buffers, the words blurring together as he scrolls, searching for a different answer. Someone, anyone in the comments telling him it’s okay, that he will be okay, and he’s not going to hell for simply wanting to have sex. 

Nothing. 

A humourless laugh comes out of him, an exhausted huff. He rests his heavy head on the steering wheel—he can’t be bothered anymore. This isn’t just sex for him. There’s a future here—he’s not sure what it is, or how he’ll get there. But surely, surely, something good, something worthwhile is at the end of this. And isn’t that worth something? Wouldn’t God want him to enjoy himself? 

Jake takes a deep breath, white-knuckle grip on the wheel, and says a prayer. “Dear Lord, thank you for all you’ve done for me—but I’m not waiting any longer. I’m really going to do this, Jesus. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” 

Jake pauses, peeking around the car with one of his eyes to check for hellfire—the coast is clear. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Amen.” 

It’s the most cautious drive of his life, checking every mirror and blindspot thrice, hands sitting firmly at ten and two—kissing twenty miles per hour the whole way. Parked outside, he climbs over the centre console to use the passenger door because it opens out onto the pavement, and no way one of those cars that’s going around striking down the sexually immoral is going to spawn there. He uses the stairs instead of the lift, and makes it to your flat in one piece. 

He doesn’t even have a chance to knock before you pull the door open, telling him he took so long as you take him by the hand and tug him over the threshold. “My fault, baby,” he says, apologetic. Jake bites his lip, eyes trailing over you. Fallen strap of your tank top, nipples pressing through thin fabric, shorts riding up. Good God. He gulps, dick stirring in his pants as you drag him to the living room.

Sinking into the couch, he looks up at you, eyeing him like you want to eat him alive—he’d let you, he wants you to. He pulls you into his lap, kissing you. A moan tugged out of his chest when you grind down on him. At this, you pull away, chest heaving. Lips swollen, wet. He can’t help but reach out and touch them, tracing your mouth with his thumb, pressing down on your plush bottom lip, before pushing it past your teeth. Fuck. Your eyes meet his, hazy, unfocused as you suck on his thumb, letting your tongue graze the tip. Holding his wrist, you stroke it and take his finger all the way to the knuckle, looking at him the same way you do when you’re kneeling between his spread thighs.

You tug at his shirt, mumbling around his finger. “Why are you still wearing this?” 

“Waiting for you to take it off of me, baby.” 

An imperceptible hitch of your breath before you reach for the hem, tugging it over his head. You bite your lip, admiring him and his cheeks burn scarlet under your gaze. “Can’t believe you look like this.” Warm hands on his skin, fingers trailing his abs and the fading love bites you’d left behind. “Such a lucky girl,” you whisper, awestruck as you kiss him urgently. 

Emboldened, eager for more praise — and frankly, extremely turned on — he stands, grip firm on your ass when he does. 

“Holy shit,” you utter, pulling away, eyes blown and unguarded. “Have you always been this strong?” 

This acknowledgement of his efforts makes his entire body flush, hot and bothered from head to toe. As he shrugs sheepishly, he can’t help wishing he could be more nonchalant when it comes to you. Wishing he could just nod, say yeah—even though you both know the strength and the muscle definition are new. Jake’s stomach flutters when you smile, leaning back into him, kissing and mumbling against his lips that he’s so hot. 

In your room, the two of you collapse onto the bed, attached at the hips and mouth. He begins to understand some of those freaks in the subreddit, how this — how you — could easily knock him off-kilter and take over his life. You grab his wrist, tugging his hand towards the spot between your legs, and killing his train of thought in the process.

Nothing else registers except your soft cotton shorts, drenched against his fingers and stuck to you. “Holy fuck,” he mumbles. 

“Do something about it.”

Nodding, he pulls the fabric off of you, moves it to the side. Sucking a breath through his teeth, he stares straight ahead. Shocked, turned on by how wet you are, and his fingers slip around so much he has to focus to keep them on your clit. It’s worth it, more than, for the way you whine, rutting your hips on his hand. Groaning, he lets his finger slip into you, adjusting his pants when you moan, his thumb working your clit in circles. Another finger slips inside, so easy, so slick and so warm, your walls clenching around him. The sound alone makes him dizzy. “So fucking wet,” he says, pressing deeper, fingers curling, watching your mouth fall open. “You’re killing me, baby.” 

Completely under your spell, he can’t look away from the spot where his fingers disappear into you. “My pretty girl.” He hums, licking his lips. “So pretty all over.” Jake’s dick actually hurts looking at you, straining against his pants, darkening the fabric with precum. Adding a third finger, he presses harder on your clit, groaning when your back arches off the bed. “You like it, huh? Feels good?” 

You only moan in response, clutching the sheets in your fists as you shake against them. It doesn’t take long for you to gasp, letting out a cry of his name as your body gives in, release spilling out around his fingers all while he stares in awe, open-mouthed. The soft curves of your body, flushed and shuddering and perfect. 

Panting, you look up at him with sparkling eyes and tug lightly at your waistband. He guides your hips up gently, pulling your shorts down and leaving them at the end of the bed. “Your turn,” you breathe out. Jake stands up from the bed to take his sweats and underwear off without a second thought. Your gaze traces his body, tongue wetting your lips, eyes caught on his dick as it smacks his stomach. “Need a minute.” 

“Course, baby.” He needs a minute too, hardly able to tear his eyes off the cum painting your pretty pussy white. As gently as he can, he runs his fingers through it, bringing them to his lips and humming around them. Oh, my God. “Tastes so good.”

A lazy smile curves your lips and you nudge his chest with your foot, leaning up on your elbows. “Twelve days. It’s been twelve days, Jake.” 

Confused, he tears his eyes from between your legs, looking up at you instead. Sweat-slicked skin glowing in the dim lamplight. No one has ever looked so beautiful, he’s certain. “Of what?” he asks, stroking himself absentmindedly. 

Your eyes follow the movement of his wrist, chewing on your bottom lip for a beat before your gaze flicks up to meet his. “Earlier, I said some stupid number and you asked if it’s been that long.” 

“Twelve days,” Jake repeats, hardly believing it. Hardly believing the fact that you’re laid out in front of him, glowing, gorgeous, and he’s still waiting—for what, he’s not sure. “Whoa,” he mutters, leaning over you, his hand on your cheek. “Twelve?” 

You nod, pouting. “Twelve,” you repeat, holding onto his wrist, kissing his palm. “Don’t make me wait any longer.” 

“Condom, baby.” He pulls away, but your grip on him tightens. 

“Don’t need it.” 

Jake raises a brow. Sceptical. Horny. “Are you sure?” 

“Certain. But I’ve never..” You trail off, clearing your throat. 

He knows what you mean, and his stomach flips over. “Same,” he admits. “Where should I..?”

“Inside. Please.” 

His eyes widen, searching yours, staring. You nod again, saying, please. 

Leaning down, he kisses your cheek. “Missed this, baby. Missed you,” he admits. He feels you shudder under him, a shaky breath fanning his skin when he nudges your clit with his tip. Lifting his head, he looks down at your face, taking you in. Lidded eyes blinking heavily, fluttering lashes, sweat beading along your hairline. “Still can’t believe it—how lucky I am, getting to see you like this.”

“Never wanted anyone this much.” 

His breath ceases, butterflies tumbling in his stomach. “Me neither.” The words feel bigger than they should, heavy as they settle between you. A beat passes slowly, his heart shifting in his chest. He leans in, pressing his lips to yours and hoping this kiss is enough to tell you everything he can’t quite say out loud. 

“Please, Jake,” you say, mumbling against his lips.  

So hot and so soft and so wet. Holy fuck. He sinks his teeth into his lip, freezing. It’s his tip, literally just his tip, but it’s enough to leave him lightheaded. He wonders if he’ll even last long enough to get to the part where he’s all the way in. “Won’t last long like this,” he says out loud, his own voice seeming distant.

You’re looking up at him with wet eyes, shaking—breath harsh, shallow. “Good,” you whisper. “We can go again, however you want it.” 

Again, he thinks, looking forward to it. As if he’s not already losing his mind. 

“Need more,” you breathe. “More, baby. Please.” 

Rocking his hips forward, slow as he can, he holds his breath at the feeling of you opening up around him, inch by precious inch. It’s incredible he went so long without this. Twelve whole days. Unfathomable now—impossible, surely. Both of you whine as he bottoms out, a ragged sigh coming out of him, his head falling. Relieved. Wound up. He opens his eyes and regrets it immediately—you, mouth agape, eyes screwed shut. Holy shit. “You okay, baby?” he manages. 

A smile spreads over your lips, a content breath slipping out of you. “Perfect, Jakey. Always forget..” You trail off, shaking your head, struggling to get the words out. “Forget how big you are.” 

His entire body flushes, set alight. “You always take it so good, though. Such a good girl, yeah? Fit me just right.” He knows how it sounds, but he means it. Truly. It’s never felt like this. He didn’t even know it could feel like this — so perfect, so right — until you. The rightness of it all is so intense he almost comes then and there, biting his lip so hard he tastes copper on his tongue.

The clench of you around him is raw and startling, forcing stars behind his eyelids with each blink. There’s a brief, stunned silence when Jake finally pulls his hips back, like neither of you quite believe it. There’s nothing between you like this, no clear distinction between your body and his. Your hands skim his back, delicately tracing the column of his spine with your nails, careful, venerating, plump lips apart as your eyes meet.

Before he knows it, he’s thrusting all the way back in, one smooth, desperate stroke. A half-gasp, half-sob cry of his name comes out of you, unravelling him entirely as your legs wrap around his hips. Breath staggered, shallow, he tries to keep his cool, letting his mouth find your neck—trailing the distance from top to bottom. Four kisses long. 

Not bothering to suppress his own moans and whimpers, he sets a steady rhythm, relieved that you seem to be enjoying this as much as him, mewling and clawing at his skin. Trembling, gasping, you — cut and pasted from his dreams — pull him in and the need to spend forever like this consumes him. With another cry of his name, you tense around him, head tipping back into the pillows as your orgasm hits. And he’s right there with you, skin burning from the inside out as he falls apart, gasping your name when he comes, filling you up. 

He doesn’t move right away — he’s not sure if he can — staying on top of you while you card your fingers through his hair, panting. As his heartbeat steadies, he leans up on his palms. You look at him, all soft and sleepy and perfect, still catching your breath. 

“Hi,” you whisper, smiling. 

“Hey, baby.” 

Neither of you seem to be in any rush to move, so he rolls you onto your sides, all tangled up and face to face. You press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before curling into his chest, your skin damp and hot. Bowing his head, Jake offers a silent prayer—not seeking forgiveness, but giving thanks. 

A week goes by as usual—football, uni, seeing you. No pestilence or famine. No mark of the beast branded on his chest. Two suspiciously placed pimples on his forehead that have not sprouted into horns. No vehicular retribution. So far, no smiting.

The spring sun sets slowly, pinkening Jake’s wall through the cracks in his blinds. He has the apartment to himself while Sunghoon’s at training, so he’s making the most of his alone time. Head on pillow, phone in hand, switching through apps every few minutes as it nears time for him to leave. It’s a dangerous game, his favourite perhaps — doomscrolling time in bed — one that typically ends with him missing his plans, or staying up into all hours of the night watching Cole Palmer edits, and eighty-seven part Tiktok storytimes.

Tonight’s plan — every Wednesday night’s plan — is Bible study at church. And it’s not like he doesn’t want to go, honestly, he’s looking forward to it. It’s just that Chelsea played Arsenal yesterday, and won, so the edits are extra good, hot off the press and populating his for you page. Jesus would understand, surely. Would do the same, probably. As it stands, he’s watched this one edit of Palmer’s last-minute goal four times, and finds himself reciting, City’s boy is Chelsea’s man, with the commentator as your name pops up on his screen. A phone call. 

“Jakey, hey,” you say, voice so sweet his lips curl up. “Can I see you? In like, an hour, maybe?”

“Are you alright?” 

You hum in response. “Just want to see you.”

Something about the words, their softness, sincerity, knocks the wind out of him. He clears his throat, pulling the phone from his ear to check the time. 18:30. His stomach flutters, his heart racing, suddenly struck by your absence as if he hadn’t realised he was alone. A voice he’s gotten good at tuning out reminds him that he already missed church this week because he slept in, so he should at least go to study tonight. 

“I have Bible study in an hour, and it’s on until like half eight, but I’m free after that.” 

“Ugh,” you groan, and you sound so genuinely perturbed by this news that he has to fight a smile. “Jimin and I are having the girls over at nine.” 

“Thirty minutes is plenty,” he points out.

You sigh. “I don’t mean sex, Jake. I just.. want to spend time with you,” you say softly, “I’m kind of missing the friends part of this whole thing.” 

Jake shifts against his pillow, a pit in his stomach. He frowns, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, yeah, I’m sorry. Of course.” The words come out quickly, tripping over his tongue. “I’m all yours tomorrow, I have nothing on,” he says, only slightly lying—he has football training in the evening. 

“I’m not free until Sunday..” You trail off. “What if I come to your Bible study? Can I do that?” 

A slow moment passes while he considers this. You? Come to Bible study? “But you’re.. an atheist.” 

“So what? If your church friends are as hot as you, I’d like to see for myself.” 

“They aren’t, but I’m happy you said that.” This is.. only slightly untrue. If you ask Jake, his church friends are hotter than him. In a silent prayer, he wishes ill on Mark Lee and Hamada Asahi. Nothing major, of course, just enough that they can’t make it tonight��an itchy throat, runny nose. Anaphylactic shock, maybe. 

“Do I have to dress up or anything?”

He shakes his head even though you can’t see. “You can wear whatever you want, it’s casual. Do you need a ride?”

“A ride home, maybe?” you say, sounding unsure. “I’m out right now.”

“What are you doing?”

You hesitate, stumbling over your words to say, “I’m—uh—I’m looking at records with Heeseung.” 

This information makes Jake’s stomach tense—just a little. Lee Heeseung. Tall. Older. Freakishly handsome. Sits at the friends-you’ve-kissed table with Jake. And Jaehyun. And Yizhuo. An—have any of your friends gone unkissed? Sigh. He feels significantly unspecial. 

“Oh..” he offers, trailing off, unsure what to make of that. “Find anything cool?” 

“Like you won’t believe!” The excitement in your voice is not lost to the phone, in fact, it’s so clear he can picture you rocking on your feet as you speak. He grins at the thought, distracted enough not to worry about when Heeseung graduated from drunken makeout to sober hangout. “Okay, I have to go, but I’ll see you in an hour!” 

Jake laughs on an exhale. “See you in an hour.”

With the end of the call, his Palmer edit starts again, and Jake falls back into the for you page like nothing happened. Edit after edit, each more creative than the last slip by at the swipe of a thumb, but now he’s starting to think that maybe he should wash his hair before he sees you, and you know, put on a suit, or something. In a casual way. Hair washed. Suit on hanger. It only takes four tries to settle on the perfect hoodie and baggy jeans, and with a spritz of his good cologne, he leaves the flat. 

It’s colder out than he’d like, the March chill nipping at him as he sits on the church steps, worsened he’s sure by his lack of a jacket. He prays you had the foresight to wear a jacket. If you didn’t—well, there’s not much he can do if you didn’t. Why didn’t he bring one for you? Jake sighs, breath clouding in front of him like smoke. Logically, he knows he’d be better off waiting in his car or inside, but he’s glued to the spot. What if you get lost? What if you miss the massive, traditional cathedral with the steeple and the steps? Or his car in the parking lot? What if you somehow miss all of those things located at the address he sent you? 

Bible study starts in ten minutes, but time stops when he sees you. Wearing a jacket, zipped all the way up to your chin. He exhales, relieved, a part of him unravelling. Before he realises, he’s jogging over, pulling you into a hug. He can’t resist breathing you in — all soft vanilla and coconut — glad to see you. Your arms loop around his neck, hands — ice cold — on his skin, making him shiver. You pull back, just a touch, and press your lips to his cheek in a soft kiss. Jake stiffens, his breath catching as the warmth of your lips lingers on his skin. 

As you walk ahead towards the church, he can’t stop focusing on the spot where your lips brushed his skin, resisting the urge to reach up and touch it. You’ve been talking, he realises, and he hasn’t heard a word—a distant hum until he catches the question in your voice.

“What did you say?” he asks, eyes flicking up towards you as you turn to face him on the steps. 

You’re a whole head taller like this, gaze trailing over every inch of his face. “Are you alright? You look a little sick.” 

Jake forces a smile, nodding. “All good,” he says, trying to convince himself more than you. 

He moves ahead, deliberately putting space between you, avoiding any chance for you to press further. His stomach flutters when you take his hand, the touch small, soft, but he smiles nonetheless as you give it a gentle squeeze. The foyer is empty when you arrive, but the murmur of voices from the Parish hall reaches his ears, grounding him. 

Jake holds the door open, gesturing for you to go in first as he follows behind you, taking stock of the room. No Asahi (thank gosh), but Mark is here, beaming, talking to—is that Park Jihoon? Back from college? Today? (What the fuck???) Sunghoon, at least, is a grounding sight, a sigh of relief slipping out of Jake when he sees him—sitting with.. Kim Chaewon? Of ‘Park Sunghoon, you’re dead to me,’ fame. Incredible. Somehow, your being here is the least surprising part of this whole affair. 

Sunghoon grins when he sees Jake, but he jumps from his seat seeing you, and jogs across the room to say hi. Much to Chaewon’s displeasure, he throws his arms around you, and Jake sees her eye twitch. With his hands on your shoulders, Sunghoon looks at you like it’s been years, genuine delight on his face. “I hope you feel blessed tonight, really.” 

Jake eyes his friend, trying to suss him out, but he can’t discern the source of his elation, which makes him wary. If he knows his friend—Sunghoon’s happiness is coming at Jake’s expense. 

“May God bless you, Jake.”

He can’t help rolling his eyes. “Thank you, Mr Chaewon.” 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Sunghoon says wearily, shaking his head. 

Jake’s brows touch his hairline, hardly believing his ears. He leans in, asking quietly. “You’re not sleeping with her?” 

“Okay, yeah, it’s exactly what it looks like.” Sunghoon scratches the back of his neck, excusing himself before going back to his seat and leaning toward Chaewon, whispering something in her ear that makes her smile. 

Quiet lingers in Sunghoon’s absence, just long enough for Mark to come over, elated, as he daps him up. “Hey, man! Good to see you,” he says, grinning. He means it. It really is good — for Mark — to see Jake. And to think, Jake had been praying for this guy’s demise just an hour ago. Guilty, embarrassed, he echoes Mark’s sentiment, smiling at this ray of sunshine man in front of him. 

“I’m Mark,” he says, extending a hand for you to shake. He repeats your name when you say it, nodding, that warm smile on his sweet face. “Thank you for coming, I’m so glad you made it,” stupid, charming Mark continues, still holding onto your hand. 

You lean up to Jake’s ear when Mark leaves, whispering. “I thought you said your church friends were a bunch of ugly, incel freaks.”

He snorts, eyes on his shoes. “They are.” 

“Mark definitely isn’t.” 

“He’s abstaining,” Jake blurts out, looking around to make sure no one’s close enough to overhear. “Which is fine,” he adds, trying to play it off. His gaze catches on Jihoon and his new college biceps, and in a panic, he stumbles over his words trying to deter you from him too. “And Jihoon.. well..” Jake’s voice falters. A pause. “He’s in love with Mark.”

“How convenient.” You roll your eyes, sitting down in the empty seat behind you. “Who’s Jihoon?”

Jake shakes his head, checking his phone as he sits. “Nobody.” 

Hoon: You brought her to Bible study bro?

Jake: She wanted to come

Hoon: You picked a good night, I’m excited to get into tonight’s study! 

Hoon: Godspeed, brother. Amen. 

He sighs, shaking his head as he tucks his phone into his pocket. Beside him, you shift a little, your knee bumping his. 

Mark clears his throat, pulling Jake’s attention back to the circle. “Is there anyone who wants to say a prayer to get us started?” he asks, looking around the room. 

From the other side of the circle, Sunghoon’s hand shoots up, and Jake has to stop himself from sighing in relief. Some of the other more.. enthusiastic members of the church pray for a while, but Sunghoon has a certain way of getting to the point. Bowing his head, he clasps his hands neatly in his lap. “Dear, Lord. Thank you for bringing us here safely this evening,” he starts, voice steady and sincere. “Please bless the study we’re about to take part in and help us to understand. Thank you for touching Jake’s heart and allowing him to bring a friend, may she be filled by your word.” He pauses, clearing his throat. 

At this, Jake steals a glance up, eyes flicking to Sunghoon, only to see him staring already, a wide grin on his face. What the Hell? Jake’s stomach twists as he looks away, focuses on his hands in his lap, the white-knuckled grip he has on his pant legs. 

“In your name’s sake we pray, amen.”

A resounding amen follows, and when Jake looks at you, you’re shooting Sunghoon a thumbs up like he just delivered the prayer of the century—not a terrifying snippet of what the night might entail if he has anything to do with it. In his seat, Sunghoon crosses one leg over the other with a smirk, winking at Jake.

Who needs enemies with a best friend like this?

“Uh, thank you for that, Sunghoon,” Mark says, taking a seat. “Jake, can I ask you to open 1 Corinthians 6:18, and read it out for us?” 

“Of course.” 

Jake ignores Sunghoon’s eyes on him as he pulls out his phone, searching for the verse in his Bible app. 1 Corinthians. Perfect. He’s at ease, trying to remember its exact wording, something about how love is patient and kind. Sunghoon was right, with a study topic like this — light, inoffensive — tonight is a good night to have brought you along. Who knows? Maybe divine intervention will have you confessing your undying love for him before the night’s over. 

He sits up straighter in his seat when he finds it, smiling. “Reading from the New International Version, 1 Corinthians 6.18: Flee from sexual immorality—” Wait. What? Jake stops short, his stomach dropping. He skims the rest of the verse and offers a silent prayer, suggesting to Jesus that now is a perfect time for His second coming—you know, if He’s planning on it. Amen. There’s a choked-off snicker from the other side of the circle. Sunghoon.

“Uh—sorry. Going on.” Jake clears his throat, ignoring the heat creeping up the back of his neck. “All other sins a person commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body.” 

Before he has a chance to lock his phone or launch himself out the window, Jihoon starts speaking. “I think it goes without saying that this is not a space for judgment. Everyone’s journey is their journey and no one here is without sin.” 

“Exactly, Hoon,” Mark says, nodding. “So now that I’ve scared you all into abstinence, is there anyone who wants to talk about what they think that verse might mean?” 

Silence. Everyone glances at each other, waiting for someone else to speak. No one does. 

Mark exhales, slumping in his seat. “Really? Nothing? Great. Well—uh.” He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes flicking to the ceiling as if God might come down and help him out. Maybe even rapture him. That could be cool, and Jake could maybe be raptured next. “Look, I didn’t pick this topic to scare anyone. I mean, I don’t even pick the topics—there’s a whole timetable, and, well.. some of your parents are freaking out about you.” His mouth twists like he shouldn’t have said that. “Anyway—that’s not the point. What I mean is..” 

He straightens up, trying again. “If you don’t want to wait, that’s your choice. I’m not here to judge anybody—it wouldn’t be fair. And honestly? I think there are ways to have sex that can honour your body, you know? Staying safe, using protection, getting tested. Being clear about consent, setting boundaries, being open with your partner.” 

Mark’s words hang in the air, oddly light, completely unexpected—quieting the uncertainty in Jake’s head for the first time in weeks. Sex as an act of honour to the body. Not negative, nor neutral, but.. positive. That this idea could exist at all, never mind be voiced in church of all places, seems so absurd that he looks around the circle to see if anyone else is as surprised as him—but they aren’t. 

“It’s about making choices that protect you — emotionally and physically — while respecting whoever you’re with.” Into the silence that follows, Mark clasps his hands together. “How about we wrap things up here, and go home early, huh?” More silence. “Great. Okay. Does anyone have any prayer requests? Anything they want to thank God for?” 

It takes a while, but mentions of sudden illness and new jobs go in one of Jake’s ears and out the other as Mark prepares to say the closing prayer, and Jake hardly realises everyone’s standing up and moving their seats until you nudge him. 

“You okay?” 

Clearing his throat, Jake nods, stacking your chair on top of his and adding them to pile in the corner of the room. He introduces you as his friend to a seemingly unending carousel of the nosey people he grew up around. Of course, you already know Sunghoon, and Chaewon is extremely pleasant when she realises you’re not vying for his attention. 

In his car, you tell Jake about the records you found—loads of folk stuff, first-press hip-hop LPs from the mid-’90s, obscure bootlegs people had brought in going for dirt cheap. You didn’t get anything, but it was a great trip. Heeseung got this insane home-pressing of songs by Laufey and the Black Eyed Peas for the girl he’s seeing. When Jake parks the car, you show him the picture you took of the jacket—a poorly Photoshopped monstrosity of the Monkey Business cover with Laufey’s face over all the members. 

“We’ll have to go together when you have time.” You shake your head, laughing. “Oh, and thanks for letting me crash—it can’t have been easy having the Whore of Babylon sitting next to you, but I had fun tonight. It was funny.”

“Funny?” Jake repeats. 

“Yeah.” You shrug. “I don’t know, it just seemed like Mark was trying to be nice about the whole.. premarital sex is damning thing.” 

The thought doesn’t even make him cringe. No pit in his stomach. Steady heartbeat. Is he.. cured? 

Jake hums. “He was, wasn’t he?” A mumble, spoken more to himself. 

“Don’t you find that phrase sort of funny? Premarital sex—as opposed to the pure and moral matrimonial sex.” You laugh, head falling back against the headrest. “I’m not trying to be rude about it or anything, I just find it amusing.”

Shaking his head, Jake smiles. “No, I know.” A beat. “I think I do too.” He means it. 

You reach for your seatbelt, pressing the button and taking it off. Jake does the same, hesitating before reaching for the door handle. “Are you free next weekend?” he asks, chewing on his lip.

“Yeah, how come?” 

“I’m going fishing with my dad, and he was wondering if you’d want to join us.” 

“Your dad was wondering, but..” You trail off, looking out over his shoulder, like you’re checking for pedestrians or anyone else who might behold your Jake-related vulnerability. “Do you want me there?” 

“You know I do.” 

Turning your body to face him, you lean against the door. “Mm.” A sage nod. “But I want you to tell me.” 

“You mean a lot to me, so it would mean a lot if you came with us.” Jake takes your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I really want you there.” 

At this, your gaze falls to your linked hands, fingers intertwined in your lap. Holding his breath, he waits for your response, half-expecting you to brush him off, roll your eyes. Traffic flows outside, heavy, Jake thinks, for this time on a Wednesday evening. More quiet—too many clumsy beats passing to count. 

Finally, your eyes find his, a smile on your lips, voice soft under the hum of cars passing in the street. “You mean a lot to me too.”

The lake house—his dad’s childhood home. Unchanged. Perfect. Dark wood floors that bear the scuffs of time—some from Jake’s own football boots as a child, others older, carved by lives before his. Faint scent of saltwater and old books with cracked spines. Frozen in time, but not untouched. 

Three months have passed already since Christmas, the last time he and his parents were here. No gifts, no tree, just shit films and quality time. But the lake house always strikes him anew. The fleeting nature of this solid structure, this sanctuary where his father had been a boy. Eight-year-old handprints immortalised in the patio concrete, height marked on the living room doorway. The boy in the photos that Jake will never meet, though looks exactly like—his broad-nosed, full-lipped father.

Your voice is sudden over his shoulder. “Whoa.” Jake almost flinches despite its softness. He can’t believe you’re here. 

“Yeah,” he utters, finally looking at you. 

Jake has never dared to imagine you here, worried it wouldn’t ever live up to the real thing. And he was right. His heart stutters like a skipped stone. In your winter coat, chin hiding under your fluffy scarf, hair frizzed on the left side from where you’d slept against it in the car. The spread of the trees, vastness of the lake peeking through them, all framed by the open door behind you like something from a postcard.

Jake carries your bags upstairs, and you follow, getting a tour. The master bedroom is the last stop—queen-sized bed, en-suite bathroom, a space meant for two. You’ll be sharing it for the night—news that would mortify his mother if she found out. A thought that, only in theory, delights Jake. 

In the kitchen, you prep ingredients for dinner while discussing Gatsby—his dad’s favourite. Materialism. Affluence. The American Dream. The excitement is mutual. You, eager to pick his brain. His dad, grateful for an audience more responsive than his students. Jake listens in silence, peeling carrots—heart warmed by the ease with which you converse. Comfortable, unmarred by years apart. 

“Gatsby could’ve had anything he wanted in the world—but he never got to have Daisy,” his dad says, checking the fridge. 

You hum in response, a soft sound of disagreement. “He had Daisy in some ways, I suppose,” you offer, sounding hopeful, seeking approval, Jake thinks.

“I think that might be more tragic than if he’d never had her at all.” 

In the corner of his eye, Jake sees you tilting your head, brows furrowed. His dad laughs, not mean-spirited, no, an endeared sound he remembers from childhood—too scared to get back on his bike after his first fall; first wobbly tooth wrenched from his mouth by his own hand. 

“A taste doesn’t make a meal, sweetheart—it just leaves you hungry,” he says after a moment. 

In the same split second that Jake looks up at you, your eyes flick over to his. He can’t be hungry forever, surely not, that would just be cruel. His stomach curls in on itself at the thought. For a single, fully indulgent second, he lets himself believe that you might be hungry for him too. 

“Jesus, kid,” his dad says suddenly, gripping Jake’s wrist and dragging him towards the sink. “You’re bleeding.” 

Surprised, Jake blinks down at his hand, vivid red spilling from his index finger down the drain—carrot still half-peeled and bloodied.

“Fuck, Jaeyun,” his dad goes on. “That could’ve been really nasty. Are you alright?”

Jake only nods, distantly hearing his dad tell you where to find the first aid kit. Your footsteps disappear upstairs. Quickly, the stinging behind his eyelids turns into a pathetic flow of tears, his shoulders wracking as his dad wraps an arm around him. A kiss to the top of his head. “You’re alright, kid. Everything’s going to be alright.”

He doesn’t want to be hungry anymore. 

All thanks to Jake’s little episode, the two of you are banished from the kitchen, and decide to take a walk. His feet lead you toward the dock, and you light up—jogging ahead, eager to reach the water. Standing at the edge, swaying, wind whipping your hair around your head. Leaning forward, you point out a green shed in the distance. A smile in your voice. “East Egg,” you say happily. 

Jake remembers enough from the film to at least understand this reference, smiling too. “Alright, Mr Gatsby.” He wraps a protective arm around your waist, pulling you back. “That’s enough, baby, you’ll fall in.” 

You laugh, turning in his hold. He’s hooked on your lips, their shape, how they part to form your words. “I do say, Old Sport.” You start. “You’re looking rather flushed.” 

Air flees from his lungs, stolen. You — his Daisy — wrapped up in his arms, palms flat on his chest. Everything he wants, but can’t have. Tragic maybe. But wasn’t Gatsby brave, at least, to want in spite of what was feasible? Isn’t Jake? He shakes his head slightly, clearing the thought—you are not Daisy, nor is he Gatsby. There need not be tragedy here. 

For a second too long, your gaze lingers on his lips—you’re waiting for a kiss that you won’t initiate. Everything about this moment feels primed for it. Alone on the water, the steady crash of lake against rock, virtually no space between you. But he’s stuck. Unmoving. The wind stings his ears. You shiver, teeth chattering before you press your lips together. Jake can feel the window shutting, but still, he does nothing. 

Clearing your throat, you blink up at him. “Let’s head back, Jakey. We’ll freeze to death out here.” 

Jake opens his mouth. Falters. Then, softer than he means to, he asks, “Will you kiss me?” The words startle him, borrowed from you and that night—almost two months ago now. 

You nod, smiling. No hesitation, no second-guessing. Just the curl of your fingers around his jacket, the tipping of your chin. The steady, certain, press of your lips on his. Relief crashes into him, unfurling the tension in his chest. Warmth, soft and overwhelming all at once, sinking into his skin.

By the time you get back from the dock, dinner is almost ready—late lunch, really. Budae jjigae curling through the air, filling the house completely. The three of you eat together at the table, conversation weaving in and out between bites. Jake eats like it’s his first meal in ages, tearing into the steaming jjigae like it might disappear.

Full to the point of fatigue, he washes the dishes and sinks into the couch, head resting against the cushions, limbs loose and heavy with contentment. He twists the cuff of your sleeve between his fingers when you cuddle into his side, nursing a glass of water. In the armchair, as always, is his dad, book open in his lap, though he’s hardly reading. You keep pulling him into conversation, peppering him with questions about lecturing you must have been holding onto for years. 

Eventually, the wind settles, and armed with fishing rods, and bait his dad picked up on the drive over, the three of you make your way back to the dock. Empty-handed, you run off ahead, giddy laughter, and a called out, come on, over your shoulder.

“She hasn’t changed a bit,” his dad says fondly, gaze lingering on Jake. “You haven’t either.”

He gives him a curious look. “Is that a good thing?” 

A shrug, warmth in his dad’s eyes. “I think so.”

On the dock, Jake kneels by the tackle box, patient as ever as he shows you how to hook the bait, and hold the rod steady. His voice is quiet, calm, guiding your hands with his own until you get the hang of it. Following his instructions, you take it quickly, your cast smooth—a smile in his dad’s voice when he tells Jake you’re a natural. Pride swells in his chest as if the compliment was for him. Your line tugs almost immediately, breath catching in your throat as Jake scrambles over to you, an incredulous laugh from over his shoulder. 

“You’ve got one!” he calls out, more excited than you are. “Reel it in, you have to reel it in!” 

You fumble a little bit, but get it when you calm down. A flash of silver breaks the surface, water scattering in drops. Jake grins from ear to ear, like you’ve made the biggest catch of the season. Or at least caught something slightly more inspiring than a fifteen centimetre ssogari. 

His dad chuckles, clapping you on the back. “Wow, sweetheart. Great job!” he says, nodding affectionately. 

With some help, you hold up your catch, shaking with excitement — fear, maybe — while Jake snaps a photo, capturing the moment and sharing it with Sunghoon. 

Jake: Baby’s first catch 😭😭😭😭😭

Hoon: So cute, no way !!! Where’s yours? 

Hoon: Bring me next time I miss your hot dad :( 

Jake furrows his brows, locks his phone without replying, and turns back to you. 

“Are we going to cook it?” you ask, curiosity piqued. 

“Uh, no.” He shakes his head, laughing softly. “We just look at them for a bit and then put them back.”

It’s a busy day in the water apparently, for you and Jake’s dad at least. Jake, for all his enthusiasm, catches nothing—the fish did not choose him this weekend. Eventually, as the sun starts to dip, you all pack up, leaving the water behind in exchange for something warmer. 

In the garden, the night settles over you, thick with cold as the fire pit does what it can to fight off the chill. Flames flicker, snapping into the quiet, soundtracking your laughter and stories, the smell of smoke curling around you. In the seat beside Jake, your arms are wrapped around his, your head resting on his shoulder. His dad across the fire, its glow catching in the lines of his face, softening them and showing off his fond smile. 

Eventually, Jake’s dad rises, brushing off his hands with a yawn. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of Jake’s head, and one to yours. A quiet goodnight, familiar, unhurried. In the doorway, he pauses, pointing a finger at his son. “Make sure the fire’s all the way out before you go to bed, okay?” 

Nodding, Jake wishes him a goodnight again. Through the glass door, his dad moves through the kitchen, checking the sockets before flicking the light off, and disappearing down the hall. Resting his head on top of yours, he exhales. “You want another drink?” 

“No, thank you.” You lift your half-full can, cider sloshing noisily. “I’m good, baby.” 

Jake gets up, stretching his arms and legs before heading into the house, enveloped by the quiet of the kitchen. Pulling open the fridge, harsh light spills across the tiles as he reaches for a beer. Cold beads of condensation slip against his fingers, a relief as he lifts it, presses it to his cheeks to quell the heat blooming there. Baby. He giggles. Will he ever get used to that? 

Opening his can, he sits back down and kisses your temple. A sip of beer warms his insides, he looks at you and smiles. “Did you have fun today?”

You nod eagerly, then seem to think better of it. Tilting your head. Pursing your lips. “I’m a little disappointed though.” 

“Oh, yeah?” He arches his brow, leaning back in his seat. “How so?” 

Your lips twitch. “It’s stupid but I guess I had it in my head that you were like—I don’t know, actually good at fishing, or something. But wow, Jakey.. You suck.” 

“Ever heard of beginner’s luck?” he says, rolling his eyes, too endeared by you and the grin on your lips to bite back. “You’re lucky I like you too much to take that personally.” 

A suggestive lift of your brow, a smug smile. “Oh, so you like me, huh?” 

Briefly, Jake entertains the thought of telling you — finally fucking telling you — that he like-likes you. It seems simple enough, only three words. Four technically if he says ‘like-like’ out loud the way a child might. He watches you, searching—do you already know? And if you don’t, and he tells you, will anything change? 

Firelight flickers over your face. Jake shrugs. “Yeah, quite a lot, actually.”

Chuckling, you bring your cider to your lips and take a long, slow sip. Over the edge of the illustrated can, you eye him. Gaze steady. Unnerving. Like you’re in on something he’s not. 

You shrug. 

Reaching out, his fingers curl around your wrist, gently lowering the can. His lips find yours, soft, insistent. Pineapple and raspberry, artificial and sweet, from your tongue onto his. He hums against your mouth, a quiet, come here, before pulling you in, guiding you into his lap. You straddle him easily, arms draped over his shoulders. The kiss deepens, slow at first, then desperate as heat pools in his stomach. 

Hands mapping skin through your layers, fingertips pressing, still curious, eager after so long. Your chests rise and fall in sync when you pull away, trembling breath clouding together in the cool air. Blinking down at him, an expression he can’t read takes over your face. “You really like me?” you whisper. Your question clarifies the look on your face—expectant, waiting for an answer he’s scared to give. 

As he sees it, there are only two ways for this to go—worst case: you laugh, cackle, call him insane for thinking he has a chance with you; best case: his confession doesn’t repulse you. Clearing his throat, he tries to calm the storm in his chest. “I do,” he says after too long, startling himself with his volume. 

You don’t take off running for the hills, which he can only assume is a good thing. Instead, you smile. Cradling his face in your hands and kissing him. Then, movement. Slow shift of your hips back and forth against his—maddening. Press of chest to chest, hushed moans shared between you. A kind of tender desire that turns the cold night sweltering. 

After too long, dazed and sleepy — fire extinguished — the two of you giggle, hand in hand, all the way upstairs. Brushing your teeth together in the en-suite, letting peppermint kisses turn warm and lazy as you pull Jake into the shower with you. 

He pinkens in the heat, warm water slipping over your bodies in rivulets. Skin sliding over skin, pressed together. Steam curls, fogging the glass. Hands on your cheeks, holding your face to his—lips locked. Slow, lazy, taking his time. Trying his best to make the morning last forever like this. Kissing. Smiling. Your fingers card through his hair, tugging the wet strands, pulling groans from his mouth into yours. 

Breathless, he pulls away, tucking his head against your neck. His arms fall around your waist, keeping you close. Noses along the sensitive skin there, inhaling your shower gel—syrupy sweet, so painfully you. He presses his lips together to keep from saying something stupid. Your touch is delicate, tender, on the back of his head, fingers curling around the overgrown locks at the nape of his neck. 

It’s unfair to be going home so soon, the shortest trip of his life. Behind closed eyes, Jake can’t help picturing weeks here in the summer with you. Long days spent swimming in the lake. Short nights spent cuddling despite the heat. Sunscreen on hot skin. Aloe vera on burns. Tan lines and salt air. Summer. He’d be your boyfriend by then, right? 

“I don’t want to go home,” you whisper.

He kisses your damp skin. “Just say the word and I’ll bring you back, baby.” His voice is low, muffled into the base of your neck. “In the summer, maybe? We can stay for ages if you want.” 

Saying it out loud, this partial voicing of his thoughts for you to hear, summer feels much bigger than just a word, a season. Much bigger than anything he can imagine. An almost confession. A promise to you. To himself. He clears his throat, feeling exposed. 

Your eyes are wide when he looks at you again, cupping his face in your palm, thumb stroking his cheek. You lean up, pressing your swollen lips to his. “Summer,” you repeat, smiling.

Jake doesn’t sleep, he’s not sure if he could if he tried. He’s laying there, flat on his back, your head warm and sleepy on his chest. His fingers move absently through your hair, slow and repetitive, more for him than for you. Your breathing is steady, relaxing him. A thought comes to mind—the sunrise. He shifts carefully, not wanting to wake you yet as he reaches for his phone. 05:47. Smoothing his palm over your shoulder, he whispers your name. You only hum in response, stirring. 

“Come on,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I want to show you something.” 

“The sun isn’t even up yet,” you grumble into his skin, eyes still shut. 

“That’s the point.” His voice is gentle but insistent. Leaning in, he presses his lips to your temple. “It’ll be worth it, baby.”

You groan, rolling away from him, face in the pillow. “Fine.” And as if in protest of the early morning, you don’t say much else. You do let him help you into your jacket though, smiling as he zips it up and kisses your forehead. 

Hand in hand, the two of you trudge slowly along the trail, footsteps soft in the grass. Saltwater and pine fill the air, seeming stronger in the waning dark. Finally, through the trees, the lake unfolds, a glassy mirror of the brightening sky above, day’s first light stretched thin over the horizon.  

When you reach the rocks, you whisper, “Whoa.” Taking a seat next to Jake, pulling your knees to your chest and leaning into him when he wraps his arm around your shoulders. 

The sky splits open above your heads, dawn unfurling in soft brushstrokes of pink and orange. A dreamlike shimmer in the water—silken ripples of gold rolling towards the shore, crashing against the dock. The hues grow deeper and more vibrant, shifting quickly before his eyes. For years, this sunrise has been his favourite view. But now, with you sitting in it, soft and golden, hair ruffled from sleep and the wind? Fuck—he couldn’t think of anything better if he tried. 

Whispering, he asks, “Worth it?” 

You turn to him, eyes soft, smiling. “Very.” You let a long beat of silence pass before asking. “How many hookups have you brought here, Jakey?” Your voice is soft, a little more than curious. 

Breathless, Jake laughs, suddenly nervous as if there’s a right and a wrong answer. “Hookups aren’t really my thing,” he admits, shaking his head. “So, zero.” 

Your brow lifts, sceptical, but you don’t press. Not immediately, anyway. You even let Jake turn back to the water, following his gaze when he nods towards the horizon, and mumbles, look. You let the colour bloom for so long he thinks you’ve dropped it. 

You haven’t. “Are you lying to me?” you ask quietly. 

“You of all people should know I wouldn’t even kiss someone, never mind hookup with them, if I wasn’t losing my mind over them.” The words slip out before he can stop them, before he can think better of it. If you’re overthinking what he said, you don’t show it. 

He doesn’t have anything more to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all. But in his peripheral, you’re still watching him. There’s something in your eyes he can’t decipher. At least not correctly. It reads love. It reads you want him how he wants you, and it’s disarming. 

A while passes before Jake is ready to speak, his voice coming out softer than he means for it to. “What’s up?” 

“It’s—” You cut yourself off, looking around. Amused, hesitant somehow, as you laugh—soft, and content, and nervous, he thinks. “Your dad thinks we’re together, you know,” you tell him eventually. 

Jake puts a lot of effort into keeping his eyes from rolling, knowing exactly what his dad is up to. The prospect of his dad acting as a wingman is both relieving and mortifying. He arches his brow. “Together how?”

You sniff, eyes on his. “He thinks you’re my boyfriend, and I didn’t correct him.” 

For a second, he forgets how to breathe, heart hammering against his ribs. Brain scrambling to catch up with you and what you just said about not correcting him. A thousand questions threaten to spill out at once, but none of them make it past his lips. Why not? Do you want that? Do you want me? It would be easier, he’s sure, to say nothing and kiss you instead. But your eyes are still on his, steady, not giving anything away, and he has to ask, voice low, cautious. “Are you going to correct him?”

“Do I need to?” You sound so calm, so relaxed about it all that Jake’s skin heats under your gaze. 

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” 

“Then no,” you say, smiling—small but certain, like you’ve made up your mind. Like you made up your mind long before this conversation. Your hand finds his cheek, thumb tracing his jaw. “I’m not going to correct him.” 

And before he can reply, your lips are on his. Soft. Gentle. Everything he wants for the rest of his life.

By the time you make it back — boyfriend and girlfriend, hand in hand — Jake’s dad is sitting on the couch, curled around a cup of coffee and his book. He’s smiling, eyes gleaming as he makes a joke, something about the love bird catching the worm, and Jake is too happy to do anything but grin from ear to ear as you hide your face in his chest. 

Upstairs, you share the shower, eager hands tracing dips and curves innocently until you leave with pruned fingers. Skincare, then moisturiser, then clothes. Stolen kisses whenever he has the chance. Jake’s dad is flipping pancakes at the stove when you get to the kitchen, forbidden bacon crackling beside him. Despite his best efforts, morning slips into afternoon with no regard for what he wants. Breakfast is eaten. Bags are packed. Your lips have been sufficiently kissed. It’s time to leave already. 

The drive is fine, uneventful mostly, until his dad pulls into a rest stop. “Alright, everybody out. Stretch your legs, use the toilet if you need,” he says, cutting the engine. 

You rush out of the car, yelling, one minute, over your shoulder as you run towards the building. Standing by the passenger door, Jake stretches his arms above his head, exhaling long and slow. Over the car’s roof, his dad clears his throat. “I’m sorry I haven’t done more for you—about your mum.” He hesitates, then says, quieter, “I love you, son. We both love you so much. I’m on your side, okay? You’re my only son, Jaeyun.” 

Jake’s arms drop. He feels silly for having them up at all. Overwhelmed, he nods once, sniffing. “I love you, Dad.” 

Smiling, his dad gets back into the car and Jake follows. Hardly a moment passes before he sees you through the windscreen, running back, so beautiful and all his—finally, actually his. Your eyes are sparkling when you open the door. 

“They had these awesome keychains at the gift shop—look, Mr. Sim, it’s an angler!” You thrust the plush fish toward him, grinning like you caught it with your bare hands. 

A chuckle, hand squishing it. Jake’s dad ruffles your hair, a gesture so familiar, so lived in, that Jake can’t shake the feeling that he’s dreaming. The fondness in his dad’s smile is overwhelming. “That’s great, sweetheart. I love it,” he says, voice thick with pride—again, like you caught the fish with your bare hands. 

“It’s yours.”

“Oh, I can’t accept this.”

“Mr. Sim, it’s a keychain that cost me a pound, not real estate.” You hesitate, then add, quieter, “I actually got one for all of us. My father never took me on any kind of trip, so..” 

At the mention of your father, Jake’s jaw tightens. His fist clenches in his lap, memories pressing in—too many nights spent comforting you over the phone, or sneaking out to do it in person. A quiet beat passes, stretched taut and straining at the edges, your words lingering, heavier than you probably meant them to be. Closing his fingers around the keychain, his dad clears his throat before he speaks, firm and sincere. “The three of us can go wherever you want, alright?” 

You don’t say anything, but your nod is enough. And with a small smile at Jake, you hand him a matching angler, fingers brushing his. He can’t resist bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

From the driver’s seat, a quiet exhale. “Now’s as good a time as any I suppose.” Jake’s dad reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out two keys. “Got these cut this morning. It’s ours, kid. Use it whenever you like.” 

Jake feels the cool metal against his skin. Turning it over in his hand as his dad presses the second key into your palm. He can’t look away from it, silver catching the light. No big speech, no song and dance—just his dad extending a promise, sharing this part of him with Jake, and with you. The weight of his uncertainty melts away. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he glances at you, lips twitching up. Safe and familiar, solid and long lasting—the lake house. Yours. His. Ours. A future that doesn’t feel quite so far, or so unattainable anymore.  

EPILOGUE

The lake house. Summer, finally. You’re sitting on the countertop while Jake makes breakfast—a view that has quickly become your favourite.

He reaches up into the cabinet, newly formed muscle shifting under tan skin. Shoulders solid and broad, the visual representation of all the strength he’s been using on you—picking you up and tossing you around like it’s nothing. His hair is still messy from bed, longer than ever and curling around his ears. Plaid pyjama pants sitting low, showing off the love bites staining his hips in pretty blooms of red and purple. 

Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair. “I know how to scramble an egg,” he says, so long after your comment, you’d forgotten you said anything at all. His voice is low, thick with sleep even though you’ve been up for a while now—he’s definitely playing it up, but you like it too much to complain. 

“I know you do, Jakey. I just—” 

He interrupts you with a kiss, faint peppermint clinging to his lips as he mumbles, “I want to cook for you. Will you let me do that, darling? Please?”

Darling. Your heart does a flip, abrupt and ungraceful. “Fine,” you concede, twirling his hair with your fingers. “But I’m making dinner.”

Jake groans, resting his forehead on your shoulder. “Right, because I’m an idiot sandwich, and you’re Little Miss Gordon Ramsay.” 

“Mm.” You smile. “Exactly.”  

Nodding, he tips his chin up towards yours until your lips brush. “Yes, Chef,” he says, and it makes you laugh too much to keep on kissing him. But he tries anyway, teeth bumping as you share giggles. Eventually, he gives up, pressing his forehead to yours, hand on your waist. “Going to miss having this place to ourselves.”

You can’t even remember the last time you spent so long away from Jimin, and as much as you’re looking forward to seeing her — and Sunghoon — again, you’d be lying if you said you won’t miss being alone too, and the freedom of walking around the house in varying degrees of undress. A soft smile pulls at your lips. “It’s only one weekend, baby—Hoon has his placement to get back to,” you say, a voice of reason even though you feel the same. 

Two weeks. Two whole perfect weeks with Jake—entire days spent out by the lake. Swimming or reading Emily Henry while he tries to fish. Big hands smoothing sunscreen over your back, plump lips pressing kisses to your tan lines. The press of solid muscle on soft flesh, sweat-slicked skin on sweat-slicked skin. 

Jake’s lips curl into a grin, wide, boyish. So handsome—unbelievably so. “A lot can happen in one weekend.” 

Unfortunately, he raises a good point, but you won’t admit that for him to hear. A lot can happen in one weekend—it did. But it wasn’t the time frame, it was the lake. You’ve deduced it has magical properties. An ability to make days slip into each other, to draw large feelings out before you can properly think them through. Yesterday, while Jake tied your bikini back up — deft fingers slick with the sunscreen he’d just rubbed on your back — you told him that you want this, with him, for the rest of your life. The words tumbled out of you, tugged from your brain by the lake. And so, like any mature twenty-year-old girl would, you promptly rolled off of the dock and into the water, refusing to emerge until it hurt to hold your breath. Jake only smiled when you came back up seconds later, pushed your hair from your face and kissed you. Told you that he wanted it too. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, big brown eyes staring deep into yours. 

“My boyfriend.” It’s a word that still makes your stomach flutter, that hasn’t lost its novelty even after three months. 

“Your boyfriend,” Jake repeats, nodding along. “Mm, handsome guy, I’ve heard. He’s super lucky.” 

Heat floods your cheeks, and you can’t help but look away, biting back a smile. “Easily distracted too,” you point out. “He’s burning my breakfast.”

With wide eyes, he glances over his shoulder, a horrified look on his face. “Fuck,” he mutters, turning back to you. He doesn’t move though, only leaning in to kiss you again. His soft lips on yours, unhurried, like he’s got all the time in the world. 

Admittedly, you’d let him kiss you like this forever if it weren’t for the smell of burnt egg — and burgeoning fire hazard — drifting between you. You pull away, shoving his shoulder with a laugh. “Go, Jake.” 

“They’re already burnt.” He shrugs, unconcerned, as a lopsided grin spreads over his lips. “I’ll eat them.” With that, he returns to the stove, turning off the burner and flipping the charred eggs onto a plate.

Outside, you sit at the wooden table Jake built when you first arrived. You’d made an offhand comment, said it might be nice to have breakfast out on the deck, and he went off in search of scrap wood. He was successful, putting together a neat little table for the two of you to eat at—your initials and his etched into the grain, housed in a wonky love heart that gives you butterflies every time you see it. The sun warms your shoulders through one of his t-shirts, your legs crossed in your seat, and his palm heavy on your knee. You can’t look away from him. You don’t want to. There’s something about Jake, this way. The patch of raw skin on the bridge of his nose, scattered freckles dusting the centre of his face, faint band of pale skin where his sunglasses have been living recently. Jake. Your Jake. Leaning in, you press a kiss to his soft lips—your local heaven. 

© zreamy (2025), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let me know your thoughts !

extra note: happy zreamy blog birth omgggg my first fic nothing to lose came out two years ago today (apr 3 2023) and i can finally say i've written at least one fic for each member 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ thank u sm to everyone for being so lovely, it means a lot !!! all my love, zo xoxo

permanent tag list: @asahicore @ikeublr @loverseon @dreamy-carat @littlefluu @cherrymxxnie @mrloverboy3000 @blooqz @immortalonie @enhastolemyheart @fancypeacepersona @heatrache @kxwinasblog @kimjkejyy @anofi