always one more time

Christina, 27 she/her/hers formerly known as cowhanbin Daughter of Laurie & Tom. All I want is to be well-read, well-spoken, and well-loved. Cancer Sun leo moon gemini rising

[seungminogie]

🐶 smiles 98-99/∞ feat. Han

[tojisloft]

has this been done?

[womanguy]

you should get a second evening for reading fan fiction. And you should get an extra day in the week to do arts and crafts.

[jinjjaitsroughh]

the great valentine's heist - s.jy (part one)

𑣲 childhoodbsf! 심재윤 x f!reader

synopsis:  jake sim has been your best friend your entire life–even longer if you count the months spent in your mothers’ wombs. your moms (also best friends) have been hoping, praying, and not-so-discreetly begging for you and jake to be a couple for as long as you can remember. after eighteen years of dealing with it, you’ve had enough. you pitch your solution to jake: pretend you finally are a couple, only to prove the point of how you’re better off as friends. but as the line between what’s real and what’s fake blurs, you start to wonder… are you really?

content: friends to lovers, romcom, fluff, angst if you squint (half of it’s fake), idiots in love, fake dating, layla cameo! rain soaked jake scene, high school au, jake and reader are both seniors in hs and 18, nostalgia,  kys jokes, accidental cuddling, flowers, they don’t know how to be bad for one another lmao, mild language, reader is an overthinker, cheek kisses, real kisses, attempts at humor </3, some text messages, nicknames, they’re kind of really dumb and oblivious i’m sorry, avoidant attachment anxiety (oops), denial of feelings, but they get their crap together in the end i promise!! petty arguments, banter, falling asleep together, and other stuff i probably forgot to mention 

word count:  full fic: 32.4k pt1: 18.5k pt2: 13.9k

now playing ˖ ݁♬⋆.˚𝄞: ruin the friendship by taylor swift, illusion by one direction, beginning middle end by leah nobel, valentine by laufey, you’re still the one by shania twain, pancakes for dinner by lizzy mcalpine, anyone by justin bieber, change my mind by one direction, i was made for loving you ft ed sheeran by tori kelly, mary’s song (oh my my my) by taylor swift, catching feelings by justin bieber, night changes by one direction

a/n: ohhhhh my gosh i'm so happy that this fic is finally done! i started writing this in JANUARY and was supposed to finish it by vday, so this is a very delayed release 😭 but i’m so excited to get to share this w you all. thank you soooo much for almost 500 notes on the teaser, that’s insane 🥹🥹🥹 anyway hope u enjoy ! 😛

“I don’t know why she doesn’t just break up with him already,” you say, venting your frustration. Your close friend Quinn and her boyfriend got into another fight, therefore meaning you got to deal with another week listening to how horrible he is.

“Love’s tough, man,” Jake says solemnly, scrolling mindlessly on his phone.

The two of you are posted up in his childhood bedroom, the same one where you once ran into the dresser and broke your wrist. You had been playing a very intense game of “rocket tag” (as dubbed by your six year old selves) and barrelled into his dresser in the dark. You felt that deafening crack of bone and immediately started crying. Jake came into the room a second later, first declaring victory as he laughed and tagged you on the shoulder, then kneeled down to ask you if you were okay, reassuring you that everything would be fine. That pretty much sums up the nature of your relationship.

You and Jake have been best friends since birth. Literally. You both had no say in the matter. Your moms have been best friends since high school, remaining just as close despite the odds in college and beyond. As years passed, weddings were thrown, and families expanded, your moms were over the moon to find out that their respective babies would be born exactly a month apart. Jake came first, kicking and screaming his way into the world with a fiery nature only he possessed. A month later you joined him, just as loud but with your own special attitude about you. 

Your first play date was when you were a week old. Jake’s mom brought him over to your house to meet you for the first time, she and your mom both ooh-ing and ah-ing as the two of you did nothing but wriggle next to each other on the floor of the playpen. They snapped a picture which is still framed today in both of your living rooms.

Since then, you’ve never known life without Jake. He’s always just been a known presence, like how there were always stars in the sky and always laundry to be done. There was always Jake. 

You’re currently lying on his bed, on your back with your legs propped up against the wall, your toes pointing toward the ceiling. He’s sitting in the rolling chair by his desk, one leg tucked underneath him, the other swaying the chair back and forth in a comfortable rhythm.

“Like you know anything about love,” you snort, breaking into a laugh. “Your one and only love was your girlfriend of one week in seventh grade.”

Jake looks up from his phone and frowns, his fist flying to his chest as if you stabbed him. “Don’t talk about Naomi like that. My heart never healed from when she dumped me in the hallway after geography.” He winces, then smiles and rolls his eyes. “It’s not like you’ve done any better.”

You scoff indignantly. “Excuse you. I had a beautiful, heated, loving relationship with Nick for one whole month in sophomore year.” 

“Right,” he drawls, “how could I forget? He cornered me after school and threatened me because he saw me get in the car with you when your mom picked you up. Asked me if I was trying to ‘swoop in on his chick.’” 

You purse your lips and sigh dramatically. “Man, he was the one.” 

“Whatever happened to Naomi and Nick anyway?” he asks, still not looking up from his phone. It’s now turned sideways, so you know he just started a game of FIFA. 

“I genuinely believe they’re dating now,” you say seriously. “I saw someone post something a while ago.”

Jake’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he looks up at you. “Seriously? Huh. Good for them.” 

“Randomest couple ever,” you comment. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Hm,” Jake ponders, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Honestly, I think they’re a good match. She was always asking me to, like… ‘protect her’ or something. Like I could do much with the wide array of seventh grade muscles in my arsenal. Nick’s the guy for her.”

You guffaw, sounding like a chicken, sending Jake into his own fit of laughter. While you’re still trying to get ahold of yourself, his bedroom door opens and his mom pokes her head in. 

“Hey, kiddos,” she says with a warm smile on her face. “Just came to see if you guys wanted any snacks.” She looks from your comfortable lounging to the happy expressions on your faces. “You guys are just too cute,” she remarks, shaking her head. “Laughing like an old married couple.”

“Mooooom,” Jake groans, throwing his head back. “Don’t be weird.” 

You laugh again. “Thanks, Mrs. Sim. Don’t old married couples fight, though? Must be a sign we’re not meant to be.” You shrug defeatedly. Jake cackles. 

“Oh,” she tuts, pouting. “You guys just need to stop being so opposed to it and give in. It’s bound to happen someday.” 

Both you and Jake grimace at the same time at the suggestion of you two as a couple. 

“I’m good, actually,” you decline with a pained face. 

“No, thank you.” Jake actually fake gags. 

Your smile drops. “Okay, dude, I’m not that unappealing. Tone it down.” 

He nods in apology. “My bad, gang.” He turns back to his mom. “I think we’re good, Mom.” He smiles sweetly. “Thanks.” 

“Just call if you need anything,” she says before leaving the room. 

“Thank you!” you call out after her as you can hear her footsteps retreating down the stairs. “Your mom is the best,” you sigh. “I would marry you just so I could have her as my mother-in-law.” 

Jake just blinks at you. “Your love for me is so pure.” 

“Seriously, though,” you say, staring at the ceiling fan turn slowly. “Don’t you find it so funny how they’ve pushed for us to be a thing, since, like, literal birth? When are they gonna call it quits?”

“Have you met either of our mothers?” he questions like you’ve been replaced by a robot. “Never, that’s when.” 

“I don’t get why we’d ever risk ruining our friendship, you know?” you expand, still watching the propellers spin. “Like, imagine if we dated and were just the worst couple ever.”

Jake scoffs and leans back in his chair. “That’s probably what it would take for them to finally drop this whole thing.” 

A light bulb goes off in your brain. 

You sit up so fast you’re light headed, your blood flow not evening out yet. 

“That’s it!” you exclaim excitedly, a manic grin on your face. 

His brows furrow. “What’s it?” 

“That’s how we get them to stop,” you explain, planning it all out in your head. “We pretend that we’re finally a couple, but then we act so incompatible and just awful together that they’ll see we’re better off as friends.” 

His eyes flicker, a spark of intrigue burning behind them. “And we make them think that we are just so terrible together, even go through a nasty breakup right in front of them.” He’s now wearing an evil grin matching yours. 

“Exactly!” you fight the urge to scream. “Make it so bad that they never even bring up the topic of us dating again. Like they think we’re so traumatized but we’re still friends.” 

“Ooh-hoo,” Jake whistles out, low. “I love your twisted brain. When should we do it, though?” 

“Valentines.” You snap your finger when the thought comes to you, your brain now working overtime. “Think about it. The holiday of love?” 

His smile grows even wider, if possible. “We act like we have some big plans for the day, then royally screw them up.” He’s getting that crazy look in his eye that you know all too well. “It all goes down in flames.” 

You nod in enthusiastic agreement. “It’s perfect.” You can’t help but rub your hands together maniacally. “So how should we start?” 

“Well, Valentines is in what, like two weeks, right?” Jake asks. “I say we start dropping hints about it now, so that by the time the big day rolls around, we’ve got all this build up that we could crush.” 

You simply hum, nodding your head but zoning out. You’re scheming in that twisted brain of yours, as Jake called it. This will take strategic planning and diligent execution. It couldn’t just be a one and done type deal, you needed credibility. It had to be believable. 

“I’m gonna start saying like, ‘Oh my goodness, Mom, Jake looked so handsome today,’” you announce. Consider this the first phase of the plan. 

Jake snickers. “Are you serious?” he asks, fighting back another laugh. “Is that gonna work?” 

You groan and stare at him with tired eyes. “You have no idea how much my mom will freak out when she hears those words come out of my mouth. I kid you not, every time we come back from seeing you, she says something like, ‘Don’t you think Jake looked nice today?’ or ‘You two looked so good together, you’d make such an attractive couple.’” 

“Holy crap,” he mumbles, dragging his hands over his face, grinning like a little kid. “This is gonna be so much fun.” 

Before you go home that night, you and Jake agree to start setting your plan into motion. Operation Big Fake Date with Jake starts now. 

The name is a work in progress. 

Jake is very keen on it.

You are not. 

The first phase: laying the groundwork.

You descend down the stairs and go say goodbye to his parents before you leave as per usual. Jake follows close behind you, ready to strike when needed.  

“Bye, Mr. Sim!” you call out to his dad, who’s sitting on his favorite recliner in the living room. 

He smiles affectionately at you. “See you, Y/N. Always a pleasure to have you over.” He looks from you to Jake, like he’s in on a secret that you two don’t know about. He just chuckles to himself and shakes his head, turning his attention back to the sports game he was watching on the TV. 

Jake’s mom is sitting at the kitchen counter, nursing a cup of hot tea like she does every evening. You remember the first time you saw her like this. You were five years old and sleeping over at their house while your parents were out of town for a wedding. You and Jake were so excited about a two day long sleepover, you had barely bothered to say goodbye to your parents. He fell asleep in minutes, exhausted from all the playing you had done earlier in the day. 

You, on the other hand, tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to close your eyes. You missed your parents. You felt guilty for not saying goodbye long enough. What if they decided you were a bad daughter and didn’t want to come back? Your five year old brain was then racing with ridiculous scenarios in which you were disowned by your family, shattering your tiny heart.

Eventually you gave up, taking your blanket with you and waddling down the stairs, eyes puffy and hair a mess. Jake’s mom was sitting in the same spot with the same mug, reading a book. She caught you out of the corner of her eye, looking at your sniffling as you walked toward her. 

“Y/N, sweetie, what’s wrong?” she asked, looking at your sad eyes and red cheeks. 

You tried to tell her how you felt, but no words came out. Instead, you started crying again. 

She smiled at you with sympathy and moved off her chair toward you, crouching down to your height. “Hey, Bug,” she said, wiping your tears with the back of her hand. “Do you wanna come sit with me for a little bit?” 

You nodded through your tears and followed her to the couch, where she wrapped your blanket around you and cradled you on her lap. She just sat with you in silence, stroking your hair the way you like in a steady rhythm that made you sleepy. Your crying subsided, only a few residual sniffles coming out every now and then. 

“I miss mommy and daddy,” you whispered, burying your face in the crook between her neck and shoulder. 

“Aww,” she cooed, reaching up to rub your back soothingly. “I know, sweetheart. But they’ll be back before you know it.” 

You raised your head and looked at her with an intense stare for a toddler. “Promise?” you asked as you wiped your nose on your sleeve. 

She smiled down at you and lightly pinched your cheek, crinkling her nose at you. “Promise.”

You instantly felt at ease. You always knew you could trust Mrs. Sim. Soon after, you drifted off and fell asleep on her lap. Instead of returning you upstairs to Jake’s pull-out trundle bed, she stayed with you on the couch all night. 

Needless to say, you love her like she’s your own mother. 

“You heading out, Bug?” she asks when she sees you walking over. The nickname has still stuck even after all these years. 

It started when your moms had taken you and Jake out for a picnic when you were 5 months and Jake was 6 months. A ladybug landed on your nose and you just stared up at it, giggling. The moms started calling you their little lovebug, and eventually ‘Bug’ became your second moniker. There was once an incident where six year old Jake, wanting to be included too, pitched his own nickname idea: Worm. He doesn’t like talking about it. You still call him by it when you want to get on his nerves, which is fairly often. 

“Yeah,” you confirm, going to hug her goodnight. “It’s getting late and I think my mom wants me home.”

“Oh, please,” she dismisses with a wave of her hand. “You know you’re welcome to stay over any night.”

You smile, never failing to feel welcome in the Sim home. They’ve told you time and time again that you’re like an honorable additional child to them. Not to mention all the times Mrs. Sim adds in a sing-song voice, ‘Y/N Sim has a nice ring to it…’

“I know, I know,” you agree, “but I have some stuff to do at home. Besides, Jake is sick of me.” 

“Never,” Jake says from his spot against the wall. He’s leaning against it with his arms crossed, a smug but soft smile on his face. He grabs his keys off the hook and walks over to you and his mom, swinging them around on his pointer finger. “But your mom would prefer if you went home to clean your room.” 

“Shh,” you silence him, putting your finger up to his lips. “These deeds must not be thought.” 

He snaps his teeth to try and bite your finger, to which you speedily retract your hand and exclaim, “EW,” then flick him on the forehead. “Cannibal.” 

“Acquired taste,” Jake corrects, grinning to show off his fabulous smile and pointed canines. The four years he had braces surely paid off. “C’mon, let’s head out.” He gestures with his arm toward the door. “Get out of my house so I can go to bed.” 

You roll your eyes at him and hug his mom once more. 

She whispers in your ear, “You let me know if he annoys you too much.” She winks when you pull back. 

“You’ll be the first to know, trust me.” You force out a giggle, trying to look giddy yet shy. “But honestly… I’m starting to think he’s not that bad,” you whisper back. 

It’s comical how her eyes widen and her face lights up, as if all her dreams are coming true. 

“Anyway,” you perk up, acting normal again, “you’re right, we should go.” You grab him by the hand and drag him out the door, shouting a goodbye as you exit. 

“GOSH, Y/N, YOU’RE HOLDING MY HAND SO TIGHT,” Jake says, making sure he’s loud enough that his parents could hear him through the front door. You’re not even holding hands anymore, just putting on a show. 

“YOU KNOW YOU LOVE IT,” you shout at the same volume as you walk toward his car. Both of you then fake obnoxiously loud laughter before you get in. 

“Okay,” he whispers when the car doors shut. “That was good.” 

“Why are you whispering? They can’t hear us anymore, you bozo.” You look at him like he just spawned onto earth. 

“Leave me alone,” he complains, making a snarky face at you, “you can never be too safe.”

“Whatever,” you remark and get back on topic. “Yes, that was good. I can already picture your mom’s face behind that door.” 

Jake lets out a breathless laugh. “She probably went over to my dad and asked him to check on the savings account for our wedding.” 

“Oh, you guys have one of those too?” you say sarcastically. “Thought it was just me. It’ll be the event of the century.”

He just laughs again, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. He wordlessly hands you his phone to play some music. You’re always DJ when Jake drives. You go to your shared Spotify mix and play Illusion by One Direction. As he turns the key in the ignition and pulls out of the driveway, you start cooking up the next part of your plan. 

“Phase one: part one is done,” you announce over the music. “Now we gotta start dropping hints to my mom.”

“Should we just do it now when I drop you off?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the road. “Like, I don’t know… we go in all lovey-dovey or whatever.”

“I like the way you think, Sim,” you commend. “We can work with that.”

You pull up to your house and Jake kills the engine. 

“You got it?” you ask him, making sure he knows the game plan.

“Got it,” he affirms. 

He walks you to your front door and the two of you enter, taking your shoes off at the entryway. 

“I’m home!” you announce, walking into the kitchen.

You find your mom hunched over the stove, taking out something out of the oven. She turns at the sound of your voice and smiles big when she sees you and Jake. 

“Hello!” she greets, removing her oven mitts and shuffling over to the two of you. 

She hugs you first and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, then beams at Jake with open arms. He accepts the hug with equal enthusiasm. You smile to yourself watching them, knowing that Jake has just as special a bond with your mom as you do with his. She used to call him ‘her Jakey’, a nickname he somewhat grew out of once you guys reached high school. His heart still warms whenever it slips out, though. 

“Hey, Mrs. L/N,” he smiles into the hug. “Hope you didn’t mind me keeping this one out too late.” 

“You could keep her forever if you wanted to,” your mom teases, looking at you like she’s waiting for you to say something about it. Usually you would groan out a complaint and tell her to stop it, that things aren’t like that between you and Jake. 

Now, though, you try to hide a smile and look away, flustered.  Your mom’s reaction is identical to her best friend’s. 

“If only she’d let me,” Jake says back with a sigh. “I’m trying, trust me.” He winks at you, to which you blush and roll your eyes.

Your mom looks like she just won the lottery. 

“So, whatcha baking?” Jake changes the subject, peering over at the counter hungrily. 

You can tell your mom is trying to remain calm at the obvious development between the two of you. She looks like she’s in a trance before she snaps back into focus. “Oh! It’s your favorite, actually.” 

His eyes light up. “Nanaberry bites?” 

At her nod, Jake practically sprints over to the counter, pinching his fingers greedily while he feasts his eyes on the treats. Nanaberry bites were your mom’s specialty and Jake’s favorite snack since forever. They’re strawberry banana bread baked in mini cupcake tins, heaven in every bite. When Jake was still learning how to talk, he had condensed the name to ‘nanaberry.’ Everyone thought it was adorable and started calling them that, too. 

“Can I have one? Please?” he begs, mouth practically drooling. 

“Of course,” your mom says. “Just be careful, they’re still hot.” 

He plucks one from the pan and immediately stuffs it in his mouth, panting from the heat as it burns his tongue. “Ah, ah-“ 

You take a seat at the counter beside him. “She said be careful,” you chide, taking one for yourself and carefully tearing it in half so it releases some steam. You pop one half into your mouth. “Mm,” you hum approvingly. “So good, Mom.” 

“Thanks, Bug,” she says sweetly. “Why don’t you send some home with Jake? For his parents,” she offers. 

“Oh my gosh,” Jake whines through his mouthful of nanaberry. “You’re the best.”  

Your mom smiles at him lovingly and goes to get a tupperware container for him to take home. While her back is turned, Jake looks to you and raises his eyebrows with his hand in an OK symbol. You nod quickly and he pumps his fist in the air for a millisecond before your mom turns back around. You resume your content smile and Jake goes back for a second helping of nanaberry bites. 

“I was just on the phone with your mom,” she says to Jake while she places a few of the mini muffins into a container. “She said you two were on your way over here.”

You and Jake make eye contact and smile at each other knowingly. You can see your mom’s eyes nearly pop out of her head but pretend not to notice. 

She clears her throat and eyes the two of you, then starts speaking slowly, like she’s testing the waters. “You know, she said you were heading over because it was getting late and Jake was tired…” 

“Oh,” Jake remarks like he’s surprised by this. “Did she? I feel fine. Great, even.” 

“Really?” Your mom tries to act nonchalant about this fact, like she isn’t overanalyzing the situation. You see right through her. She just hums. 

“No,” you say to Jake. “Go home. I’m tired. Of you.” 

Jake’s jaw drops in fake hurt. “You wound me. I just wanted to spend some more time with you.” He pouts. 

You sigh and go over to him, grabbing him by the sleeve of his hoodie and pulling him up. “C’mon, Worm,” you say. 

“Hey,” he warns. “What did I do to even deserve being called Worm right now?” 

“You exist,” you simply state. 

Jake looks at your mom and points a finger at you. “She’s bullying me!” He grabs the container of baked goods before you start dragging him away from the counter. 

“You like it,” you object, still pulling him toward the door. 

Your mom’s boisterous laughter echoes throughout your house as you stop at the door. You drop his arm and stare into his eyes, setting into motion the next part of the plan. You pull Jake into a full hug, wrapping your arms around his waist as he wraps his around your shoulders. 

An important piece of information would provide helpful context here. You and Jake do not hug. 

You were physically comfortable with one another, obviously. There was no problem with the two of you being close. More often than not, you’d be found with Jake’s head on your shoulder or vice versa, sitting close enough that your arms touched, even holding hands was a casual occurrence. 

But hugging? 

That was crossing a line. 

You’ve both hated hugging ever since you were little. You thought it was uncomfortable and awkward, the way your bones would contort when Jake squeezed you too hard, how weird it felt to be flush against one another. He hated it just as equally. He didn’t like how sweaty your neck was as a kid, how your bony elbows would dig into his sides, or the way your chin would poke his shoulder. 

“Is she looking?” you whisper, your cheek pressed against Jake’s chest.  

“I think so,” he murmurs into your hair. 

After approximately 3 more seconds—long enough to mean something, not long enough to be obviously performative—you step back from him, peering up into his eyes. 

“Call me when you get home,” you tell him as he puts his shoes back on. 

“Of course,” he replies, smiling. He waves to your mom, who is watching you from afar, dumbstruck. “Goodnight! Thanks for the nanabread bites.” 

“Anytime!” she calls back to him. 

“Okay, now get out,” you say as you shove him out the door. “Bye!” You slam the door in his face. 

You turn around to see your mom standing there like she just witnessed a murder. Then her expression shifts from that of shock to a smug one. 

“So,” she asks casually, going to fiddle with some more baking stuff, “anything new going on?” 

You take a seat at the counter again. “With me?” You pause and pretend to think for a second. “Hmm, not really.” 

“So things with you and Jake are…?” She looks at you like she’s unsure if you’re going to giggle or go on your usual tangent about how you guys are just friends. 

“They’re… things.” Your noncommittal answer gives a hint of mystery, yet still the promise of something more. “Don’t you think he’s matured a lot recently?” You let your gaze drift to something across the room, eyes losing focus.

“How so?” she pushes a little further. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug your shoulders. “Lately he’s just been so… dreamy.” 

“Dreamy?” Your mom repeats, a satisfied smile slowly but surely making its way onto her face. You rarely ever called Jake anything better than ordinary looking. 

“Maybe he’s always been like this and I’ve been in denial,” you think out loud. “Maybe. It’s just… different.” A yawn overtakes you and you give in, stretching your arms above your head. “I’m tired. I’m gonna head upstairs,” you get up from your seat and give your mom a quick kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight. Love you!” 

“Love you, too!” she says back. You’re already halfway up the stairs. 

Once you’re safe in your room, you flop onto your bed and pull out your phone. You go to call Jake, but before you can, his contact pops up on your screen in an incoming call. Perfect timing. 

“Hey,” he answers when you pick up. You can tell from the audio quality and muted background noises that he’s still driving. “How’d it go?”

“Great!” you reply, excitement coursing through your veins. “I called you dreamy and she looked like I had just gifted her an all-expenses paid trip to the Bahamas.”

Jake cackles over the phone. “Awesome. I really think the hug sold it.” 

“Same,” you agree. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s already texted your mom about it. Are you almost home?”

“I’m pulling in now,” he says. You hear him park the car and turn the engine off, his phone disconnecting from the bluetooth. “The lights are still on.” His voice is clearer now. “My mom’s probably waiting for me to walk in so she can celebrate their prophecy coming true.”

You laugh because it’s true, then freeze when you hear a creak outside your door. Your mom. “I think I’m being surveillanced,” your voice drops to a whisper. “My mom’s outside the door.”

“Oh, I got it,” Jake says. The car door slams over the line and you can hear him walking the path to his front door. “Put me on speaker. I’ll put you on, too.” 

You do what he says, making sure your volume is maxed out. 

You hear him turn the doorknob and enter in. “Y/N,” he says at a loud but normal volume. “Hey. Just calling to let you know I’m home now.”

Catching on to his plan, you respond, “I’m glad, Jake. Thanks again for dropping me off.”

“Of course.” His voice echoes somewhat and you can picture that he’s passing through his living room. “Anything for you. Oh, hey, Mom,” he greets her briefly. “I’m on the phone with Y/N, do you need anything before I head to bed?” 

“Oh, no,” you hear her say in the distance, her smile evident in her voice. You can already see her sitting on the couch, smiling contentedly like all is finally right in the world. “You go ahead.” 

“Love you, Mom. Goodnight! So, Y/N, how do you feel about going out tomorrow?” With that, he barrels up the stairs to his room. “Okay, your turn,” he whispers into the phone. “Am I on speaker?”

“Yes.” You hold your phone up high so that the sound carries. “Go for it.” 

“I had a really nice time today, Y/N,” he says loud enough that he could be heard through the door. “I know this might sound weird but,” he breathes in and out. “I miss you already.”

“I miss you too, Jake.” You laugh softly. “I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

“That’s so long from now,” he complains. “Like, twelve whole hours.” 

“Guess you’ll just have to wait it out, then,” you tease. 

He groans but then lets out a light laugh. “You’re killing me.” 

“That’s what I was born for,” you joke. Partly true, in a way. “You’ll never know peace as long as I’m here.” 

“If peace means a life without you, then I hope I never know it.” His words hang in the air over the line. You know that it’s just to play into your story, but you can’t help the warmth that settles in your chest when you hear him. Even if it’s performative, it’s sweet. 

You can’t let Jake know you think that, though. “You’re so sappy,” you say. “Somebody watches too many romcoms.”

That much is true. It’s not a widely known fact, but Jake is a romantic comedy enthusiast. He prefers the term ‘tenderhearted cinephile.’ His Letterboxd profile is impressive, stacked with films spanning across genres and decades. Ask him about the golden age of romcoms and you’ll be stuck for the next hour listening to him spew about the superiority of filmmaking in the 90s and 00s.

“I find them inspiring,” he defends. “They help me out with real life events.” 

You laugh which turns into a yawn. It’s been a long day of scheming and pretending to have feelings for your best friend. 

He hears it. “You falling asleep on me?” 

Reflecting on the rest of your endeavors, you think you have enough evidence for today. “I’m getting kind of tired,” you yawn again. “I think I’ll start getting ready for bed soon.” 

“Aw,” Jake says solemnly. “I wanted to talk more.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” you assure him. “I always do.” 

“Okay,” he relents, drawing out the vowels. “Fine.” 

“So…” you try and figure out how to end the call. “Goodnight?”

Jake then has a stroke of genius and pulls out the oldest trick in the book. 

“No,” he tells you. “You hang up first.” The cheesiest line spoken by lovesick teenagers worldwide. His romcom marathons have been leading up to this very moment. 

“No, you,” you tease back. 

He groans dramatically. “At the same time?”

“At the same time,” you repeat. 

“Okay,” he starts counting off. “Three, two, one!” 

You hit the red button to hang up. The call ends. A second later, you get a text notification from Jake. 

jakurrr:

was that good 

i felt like shakespeare bro 

you:

YES AMAZING 

the line about never knowing peace was golden 

jakurrr:

oh that 

i was talking about the whole ‘you hang up first’ bit 

i’ve thought the other thing for a long time actually 

you:

seriously? 

jakurr:

yeah

i think i had an epiphany in 8th grade 

you:

that’s actually adorable 

ru in love w me tell me now 🥹

jakurrr:

shut up ho

like i’d want ur stank self 

you:

KYS OMG

ion een curr fr 

jakurrr:

oh yeah?

if i’m gone then who’s gonna be apart of your little plan

you’d be bored without me

you:

man i hate you 

jakurrr:

😛

thought so

you:

wait lemme change ur contact name

for realism 

[screenshot] 

princess aegyo golden baby puppy sim jaeyun🤤🤤:

ARE WE DEADASS

BRO DO NOT NAME ME THAT 

you:

you’re no fun 

this is why we’re not together 

[screenshot]

how bout that 

jakey <3:

see that’s better 

NORMAL LOOKING

i’ll change urs too

[screenshot]

you:

i will not stand to be called

 ‘yn pookie wookie bear’ by ANYONE

r you serious 

jakey <3:

OBVIOUSLY THAT WAS A JOKE AS WELL 

[screenshot] 

this good??? 

You load the picture he sent. It’s a screenshot of your profile with the contact name ‘bug bite :).’ 

you:

STOPPP THATS SO GOOD

SAUR CUTE AUR EM GEE 

jakey <3:

are you mocking my accent 

you:

😐

so not everything is about you actually 

why do you even have an accent again 💔💔

#poser #notanaussienational 

jakey <3:

MY PARENTS HAVE ACCENTS??? 

you:

ok and 

they lived there they have an excuse 

you’re just attention seeking 

jakey <3:

i love you too 🫩 

you:

🥰

jakey <3:

ok but fr im actually BEAT 

i’m gonna go to sleep 

goodnight bug

you:

goodnight worm

jakey <3:

SHUT UP I WAS SIX 

you:

<3

i’ll lyk the next phase of the plan tmr 😈

You turn your phone off and go get ready for bed. Later, as you lay in your bed and stare at the ceiling in the dark, you feel so accomplished. Operation Big Fake Date with Jake was off to a spectacular start.

The next few days follow the same cycle. You and Jake hang out, act suspiciously close and unusually nice to one another, then linger around when you’re supposed to say goodbye. Rinse and repeat. Phone calls become a nightly occurrence as well. 

They span longer now, past the necessary sophistry and conversation constraints. Last night, you’d stayed on the phone for three hours ranking your favorite birthday parties of years past. He chose his 5th birthday as his top pick. It was a dinosaur themed slip-n-slide party with a volcano cake.  You chose your 12th birthday. It was simple but fun, a day spent at the pottery studio with your closest friends. Jake had made a frighteningly deformed excuse for a vase and gifted it to you, signed with his handprint. You keep it on your dresser still, changing the flowers when you remember to. 

Now that the foundation has been laid, it’s time to start making bigger moves. 

The second phase: building your credibility. 

“A movie night?” your mom asks when you bring up the subject. “You wanna have Jake over for a movie night?”

“Well, yeah,” you reply. “We do movie nights all the time.” Just two weeks ago, he was over to binge watch all The Hunger Games movies with you. It was a nearly 12 hour ordeal, going in chronological order from Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes through Mockingjay - Part 2. It took sheer willpower and four energy drinks to stay awake the whole time. 

“I know,” she says, well aware of the fact. “You’ve never asked before, is all.” 

“Just double checking,” you smile at her. “So, yes?” 

“Of course,” she answers, “You know Jake is welcome over anytime.” 

You clap your hands together. “Awesome, thank you!” 

You text him to come over around 6:00 and start planning your attack. Barricading the living room with fluffy blankets, big pillows, and enough snacks to feed a small country. 

At 5:50, there’s a knock at the door. You get up to get it, but your mom beats you to it. 

“Hi, Jake,” she greets him, probably bringing him in for a hug. You can’t see the door from your spot on the couch. “Oh my! These are beautiful!” 

You’re confused at what she’s talking about, but then Jake rounds the corner, holding a sizable bouquet of tulips in his hand. 

“Wow,” your jaw drops. “What are those for?” 

“For you,” he says, holding them out to you when you walk over. “Or,” he coughs, “for the vase. I figured it was time you switched the flowers out.” 

Your grin is huge as you take them from him. “Thank you so much. You didn’t have to.” 

“I know,” he smiles back. “But I wanted to.” 

“I’ll go put them in the vase real quick,” you tell him. “Be right back.”

When you come back from showing the flowers to their new home, Jake is sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone. You take a seat next to him and check over your shoulder to see if your mom’s nearby. 

You lean in and whisper, “The flowers?! So good.” You fist bump him. “You didn’t tell me about it.” 

“I wanted to surprise you,” he whispers. “Thought of it after our call last night.” 

“Genius.” You nudge his shoulder and smile.  You lean back into the couch and tuck your feet in under you. “So,” you say regularly again, grabbing the remote. “What do you wanna watch?” 

“You planned this whole thing and don’t even have a movie picked out?” Jake smirks then stretches his arms so that one of them falls behind your shoulders. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he says with a wink.

You scoff playfully and go to shrug his arm off, but he tightens it around your shoulder. You give up the fight and relax, melting further into his side. Scrolling through movie options on the TV, you get to the romcom section and give Jake a knowing look. “Thoughts from the expert?” 

He looks thoughtfully at the screen, fist coming up to rest under his chin. “What are we thinking? Classic? More rom, less com? Sad ending? New?” 

“Classic. Not too old, though, relatively modern. More rom, less com. Happy ending,” are the requirements you give him. 

“Got it,” he says immediately, clicking through titles until he lands on the one he’s looking for. “Perfect.” 

You’re not surprised when you see what he’s picked. You should’ve seen it coming from a mile away. “Oh, of course.” 

“What?” he asks defensively, laughing. “It checks all the boxes! And it’s so good!” 

You can’t help but giggle a little. “I just can’t believe that To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before is still your favorite movie after all this time.” 

“That’s because it’s a timeless masterpiece,” he explains logically. “And I think it’s the perfect choice. We could watch it for inspiration.”

“For?” you question. 

He raises his eyebrows like it’s obvious. “Fake dating, hello?” He lowers his voice, “we’re basically the same as them. Take notes.” 

“Shoot, you’re right.” You reach for the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. “Jake Sim, friend to women. Soft guy.” 

He scoffs. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re like, you know,” you pop a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “Soft. Considerate. Has a mental catalogue of romantic comedies. Drinks matcha with strawberry cold foam.” 

“God forbid a guy was raised right and has interests.” He grabs a handful of popcorn, shoving it into his mouth. “And elevated taste in beverages.”

“Classy,” you remark sarcastically, taking the remote from him and pressing play on the movie. 

He rolls his eyes and mumbles a comeback through his chewing. “Whatever,” he says after he swallows. “Let’s look coupley.” 

Agreeing with his suggestion, you turn and lean further into him, curled up so that you’re snuggled up even closer under his arm. Jake shifts further back, sighing comfortably as he crosses his legs and props them up on the coffee table. You’re close enough you can feel his breath hitting the top of your head. 

“This is good,” he whispers down at you. His hand starts absentmindedly tracing patterns on your upper arm.

You smile up at him and turn your attention back to the TV. You’ve watched this film about a million times, but it never gets old. Really, you’re the reason it’s Jake’s favorite movie anyway. You forced him to watch it with you in seventh grade and the rest is history. He was hooked. After that, the two of you watched the two sequels and the spin-off series together, offering every piece of insight and critique. 

Around the time Lara Jean and Peter go to the ski lodge, you feel your eyes start to get heavy. You glance at the clock on the wall. It’s barely 7:00. But between the soft illumination of the TV screen, the chill of the room, and the steady beat of Jake’s heart, you’re helpless to the lull of sleep pulling you under. I’ll just shut my eyes for a second, you think to yourself. That’s the last thing you remember before passing out. 

The credits roll and the sequel, P.S. I Still Love You, starts playing automatically. By now, Jake has noticed that you’ve gone quiet. He peeks down to see your face, only to be met with you knocked out cold, limp against his body. He finds himself smiling at your predictability. You always fell asleep on movie nights, no matter how hard you tried not to. He shifts slightly, trying to get more comfortable, and you let out a sigh, burrowing closer to him. His shoulder is aching from being in the same position for nearly two hours, but he doesn’t want to wake you. You look so peaceful. 

He tries to prop you up against the cushions, attempting to maneuver his arm out from behind your neck. He succeeds and you fall back against the pillows, toward the other end of the couch. Wanting to be more comfortable, he shifts his body so that he’s laying horizontally on the couch, resting his head on his arm. A couple minutes pass before you start wiggling on your side of the couch, tossing and turning. He’s about to laugh at you when you, still asleep, adjust your position, flipping around and ending up right next to him. It’s like even unconscious, your body knows he’s near, and therefore must be close to him. You’re now laid right next to him, your head on his chest. 

Jake chuckles lightly to himself at how clingy you are when you sleep. He considers waking you up, or moving you back, but just then, you shiver against him. It would just be plain heartless of him to banish you to the far end of the couch, cold and lonely, wouldn’t it? He reaches slowly for the blanket thrown over the top of the couch, careful not to move too much as to not wake you. He drapes it across the two of you, welcoming the warmth. You sigh contentedly, one arm coming up to lay across his chest, hand dangling off the couch. He accepts his fate as your newfound pillow and goes back to watching the movie, making a mental note to wake you up when this one ends. 

He doesn’t make it much further himself, though. By the time John Ambrose shows up, Jake can feel that familiar weight behind his eyelids. He doesn’t bother looking at the clock, but he knows it can’t be later than 9:00. Surely that’s still early enough for a quick power nap, right? Everything feels so serene at the moment. The dialogue of the movie has been reduced to background chatter. The fluffy material of the blanket that’s insulating him despite the coolness outside. You, your weight on top of him a comfortable reminder, grounding him. He lets his eyes close, just for a fraction of a second. Soon enough, he’s gone. 

You wake up first. Sunlight streams through the blinds of your living room, rays creating patterns on the carpet. The first thing you notice is that you are not in your bed. The second thing is that you’re rendered incapable of moving. There’s an arm wrapped securely around your shoulder. You look up and see Jake sleeping soundly, his breathing soft and even, his lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks. He looks… beautiful. Golden beams washing over his face and his hair, mussed from sleep, falling over his forehead. Looking at him like this, you feel strange. Even though the room is warmer now and you have a blanket around you, you feel a chill run through your body. A weird, dull ache settles in your chest. Before you can decipher what this means or why it’s happening, Jake stirs, letting out a deep breath that turns into a yawn. You quickly put your head back where it was before, resting against his chest, and pretend to be asleep. 

You feel him lift his head to look down at you. As if realizing what position the two of you are in, he releases his arm from around you. You start shifting then, figuring that’s a reasonable event to cause you to awake. You push yourself from off him and sit up, rubbing your eyes. 

“Good morning,” you say groggily, followed by a yawn. “Did we fall asleep?”

“Guess so,” Jake replies, voice grovelly from sleep. “I didn’t mean to. I was gonna go home after the second movie. Sorry.” His hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck.

You shake your head at him. “No, it was totally okay. I haven’t slept that well in ages, actually.” There was an abnormal assurance you felt last night. Like being next to him meant that sleep could truly be an escape, that nothing from the real world could infiltrate into your dreams. 

He smiles softly, glad to be of assistance. You just sit and stare at each other for a few seconds, brains still waking up. Jake then blinks and the smile falls from his face. 

“Ah, crap,” he says, turning and shuffling through the blankets and pillows, “I didn’t tell my mom I was sleeping over. Where’s my phone?”

You get up and start to help him look for it when your mom walks in. She’s holding her usual morning cup of coffee, taking a sip and looking at the two of you with nothing short of total adoration. 

“It’s fine,” she announces to you both, “I talked to your mom last night, let her know you’d be staying the night.” 

Relief washes over Jake’s face. “Thank you so much,” he says with utmost gratitude. “I was worried she might have my head on a stick.”

“She was fine with it,” she assured him. “Just said to let her know next time.” Your mom glances at the clock. “She’ll be here soon, actually.”

“My mom?” Jake asks in surprise.

Your mom nods, “She’s coming over for breakfast.”

You and Jake look at each other, and you know you’re both thinking the same thing. A perfect opportunity to forward your plan. 

“That’s great,” you proclaim, silently communicating to him with your eyes. Of course, he picks up on it.

“We’ve been wanting to talk to the two of you.” Jake finishes for you. “Together.” 

You swear your mom could almost drop her coffee cup and start doing backflips out of happiness. She knows what you’re getting at. It’s obvious. Wanting to appear composed, however, she simply takes another sip and hums in acknowledgment before disappearing into the kitchen again.  

When she’s out of view, you and Jake quietly high five, saluting your impromptu script. 

“That was good,” you mouth. “Quick thinking.”

“We work good together,” he mouths back with a quick smile. 

A couple minutes later, you hear the front door open. Jake’s mom strolls into the house, holding a platter of breakfast sandwiches like an offering. Your mom happily welcomes her and gives her a hug, making a comment about how delicious the sandwiches look. 

You then hear her murmur under her breath, “They’re over there,” and you know she’s referring to you and Jake.

You’re both still lounging on the couch, more similar to your placements from last night as opposed to this morning. Your legs are curled under you, your head resting on Jake’s shoulder while he props his feet on the coffee table again. You decided to finish the movie marathon from where you left off last night.

“So,” Jake’s mom greets as she walks into the living room. “How was the last minute sleepover?” She sits down on the arm rest of the couch. 

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Jake apologizes. “I would’ve texted you if I had known.” 

“We just fell asleep,” you back him up. “It was an accident.” Neither of you make a move from your current position. 

She laughs at your scrambling up an explanation, ruffling his hair playfully. “You guys are fine,” she says. “You just fell asleep, right? We don’t need to talk to you guys about-“

“Oh, my gosh, Mom!” Jake exclaims, hands flying up to cover his ears. He’s steadily turning beet red. 

You feel your own face heat up at her words, growing worse by the second. 

She puts her hands up defensively. “I had to ask! Just making sure. You’re still our babies, we don’t need any shared grandchildren.”  She’s clearly enjoying how mortified you both are at this conversation. “Yet,” she adds with a mischievous look. 

Jake stands up so suddenly you jolt, falling away from him. 

“I, uh-“ his voice is an octave higher than usual. He clears his throat, “I need to brush my teeth. Excuse me.”

He speeds away to the bathroom, desperate to get away from this conversation. He kept a spare toothbrush at your house, anyway. 

His mom cackles at how flustered he got. “Goodness,” she sighs, leaning back in the recliner, “the way he reacted, you’d think he was raised by a nun.” 

You can’t help but laugh along with her, your momentary embarrassment fading fast. 

“Come,” she says, standing and offering her hand to you. “Let’s eat, Bug. I’m starving.”

You take her hand and walk to the kitchen, where your mom is arranging various breakfast foods on the table. 

“This looks amazing,” you compliment your mom. There’s a spread of pancakes, plates of fruits, and an impressive array of cereals displayed upon your dining room table. Your stomach rumbles at the sight, and you realize the last thing you ate was half a pack of sour gummy worms. Fourteen hours ago. You make an effort to stop yourself from drooling. “I need.”

“There’s eggs on the counter,” your mom offers as she plates the table. “Where’s Jake?”

“Brushing his teeth. Or wishing he was never born. Not sure.” His mom goes and grabs the utensils from the drawer, placing them next to the plates. 

You stifle a laugh and swallow it away. “Do you guys need any help?” 

Your mom nods toward the fridge, “Could you grab the milk and the orange juice?”

“Sure,” you reply, walking over to get the drinks. You set them on the table just as Jake reappears. 

He’s returned to his regular shade, the embarrassment now gone from his face. He does a once over of the table and throws his hand on his stomach. “Oh,” he groans theatrically, closing his eyes in exaggerated agony. “I’m literally gonna die. I’m so hungry.” 

“You say that every hour,” you point out blankly. 

He stops his little bit and narrows his eyes at you. “Yeah? And guess who always responds with, ‘ME TOO’? You do.” 

Your jaw drops at his accusation. “It’s called offering commiseration." 

“It’s called being big,” he corrects you. 

You gasp. “You-”

“Okay, children!” Jake’s mom interjects. “That’s enough going at each other’s throats for one morning. Let’s eat.” 

The two of you have an unspoken agreement to squash the argument, taking your seats begrudgingly. Neither of you are really bothered, you simply enjoy teasing each other. 

You’re seated next to Jake, your moms across from you. As you grab a pancake from the stack, Jake pours himself a bowl of Lucky Charms, filling it all the way to the top. 

“If you keep eating like that, you won’t make it past thirty,” you remark snidely. 

He doesn’t even look at you, continuing with pouring milk in the bowl. “Meaning I only have to spend twelve more years with you? God forbid.” He winks. “I’ll stop just for you.” 

In your head, you’re still amazed at how naturally he comes up with these things. “I’d hate for our time to be cut short. I’m not done with you yet, Worm.” 

Instead of fighting back about the nickname like he normally would, all Jake does is smile at you before shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. You go on eating your pancakes, carefully watching the moms in your peripheral vision. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see them looking at each other in astonishment. Just as they should. 

After you finish your plate, you clear your throat, looking at both of your moms. “There’s something Jake and I wanted to talk to you guys about,” you announce, setting your fork down. 

Your mom finishes chewing the strawberry she was eating, looking back and forth between you two. “What is it?” she asks, unsure. 

“Is everything okay?” his mom follows up, a mix of skepticism and excitement on her face. 

You look to Jake for support, to which he reaches up and grabs your hand resting atop the table. “It’s nothing like that,” he clarifies. 

“We just, um,” you pause, appearing nervous, keeping your eyes on Jake. 

“Y/N and I…” He looks at you again, gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, and looks back to your moms. “We’re dating.” 

Just as you’d suspected, both of your moms look as if they’d just been granted a million dollars each and solved world hunger all in one go. They’re both grinning from ear to ear, and Jake’s mom actually starts to cry a little. 

“Oh,” she sniffles, wiping at her eye with a napkin. “I always hoped you guys would end up together one day.”

Your mom energetically taps her on the shoulder. “Do you remember when we found out we were due around the same time? And we started making up all these scenarios about what our babies would be like together? Oh!” she exclaims toward you and Jake. “This was definitely my favorite one.”

“And here you guys were always fighting it,” his mom teases, wagging her finger at you both. “The two of you were inevitable.” 

“How long have you been dating?” your mom asks, extremely invested. 

“About three weeks,” you answer. Truthfully, it’s only been one week since you’ve embarked on your journey of fake romance, but you figure that duration of time is enough to be considered remotely legitimate. “We wanted to figure things out for ourselves first. But, we wanted to tell you guys, too.”

“We love you both so much,” Jake adds on, “and we knew that you’d be happy for us.” 

His mom guffaws, “Happy is an understatement.” She stands up from her seat and goes around the table, giving you and Jake a hug. “I love this. And you!”

You and Jake both chuckle and look at each other and smile, but it’s not because of what your moms think. You’ve just completed phase three: the reveal. 

That afternoon, after Jake and his mom leave, you go up to your room to decompress and think about the next stages of your plan. You’re laying on your bed, scrolling social media, when you get a message from your mom. 

mom ❤️‍🩹:

Took this while you guys were asleep.

Too cute not to share :) 

[photo] 

It’s a picture of you and Jake, presumably taken this morning. Jake is sprawled on the couch with you curled up against his side, your head on his chest. You’re both asleep, peaceful expressions on your faces. Your arm is slung over his torso, fingers unconsciously gripping at the neckline of his hoodie while his arm wraps around your shoulder protectively. It’s genuinely adorable. 

Your pulse picks up just slightly as you think about how that part wasn’t planned. You weren’t supposed to fall asleep, Jake wasn’t supposed to sleep over, and the two of you weren’t supposed to end up cuddling on your living room couch all through the night. But it just… happened. And you don’t regret it at all. 

you:

Awwwww 

Mom this is so cute 🥹 

mom ❤️‍🩹:

So so happy for the two of you 

Finally!!! 

Your heart stings a little seeing her message. Her genuine excitement. You feel bad for lying straight to her face, for letting her believe that you and Jake were really together. You catch yourself before it consumes you, shaking the feeling away. This was all for the better. You crush their hopes and dreams for good, they stop bothering you about it, and you and Jake get to stay together forever. Platonically. 

You don’t allow yourself to think about it further, instead opting to text Jake. 

you:

omggg bro 

my mom took a pic of us sleeping 

[photo] 

jakey <3:

WHOA WAIT

THATS SO CUTE 

we look like a real couple 🥹 

you 

LMAOAOAOAO 

RIGHT 

jakey <3:

i’m gonna make that my lock screen 💯 

you:

WAIT THATS SMART 

jakey <3:

😼 ik

[screenshot] 

fireeeee 

you:

total accident too

passing out on the couch was not apart of the plan lol

jakey <3:

didnt mind tho

:))))

You don’t know how to respond to that. You react with a heart emoji instead of an answer. You turn your phone off and toss it somewhere on your bed, looking around for something to do to clear your head. That’s when you see it. Your eyes land on the misshapen vase sitting on your dresser, newly filled with the fresh tulips Jake brought over last night. There’s a small white tag you hadn't noticed peeking out amongst the petals. Curious, you pluck it from the bouquet, holding it gently between your fingers. 

You unfold the miniscule piece of paper and read what’s written inside. It’s not a crazy monologue, or an obviously formulated over-the-top love note. All it holds is a simple message. 

to: Y/N

my favorite girl forever.

love, worm :)

And for some reason, it doesn’t feel like it’s a part of your joint scheme. It doesn’t feel like the dramatized and corny one liners Jake’s been spewing out for the past week. It just feels like him. Sweet. Simple. Easy. It possesses the casual, uncomplicated love you’ve shared your entire lives. The unspoken rule that no matter what, you would always have each other to lean on. 

It’s how Jake guarded you and your snail collection on the playground in first grade, shielding the fragile shells from your rowdy classmates, all because you wanted to give them a safe crossing to the bushes. It’s how when you reached your teens and your hormones caused you to find him the most annoying creature on earth, he fought the urge to scream right back at you. Rather, he asked his mom how to get you to stay his friend, focusing on keeping your friendship even though you pushed him away. It’s how he would listen to you rant for hours about whatever was bothering you and being able to read you like an open book. You needed advice? He’d give it. You simply wanted an open ear? He’d sit silent, nodding along with genuine attentiveness. It’s how despite the thousands of petty arguments you two have had, no matter how mad he was at you, he’d still drop everything in a heartbeat for you if you called him. It’s how just last week, he’d agreed in a millisecond to take part in your stratagem of romantic deceit, not an ounce of hesitation in his body.

Eight words, that’s all that he wrote. Because that’s all he needed to say, isn’t it? 

You’ve always known that Jake was a good guy. In fact, he was often deemed one of the best guys. The kind of guy who seemed to live life on easy mode: effortlessly social, naturally athletic, smart without trying to be. What you didn’t realize was how good he was to you, specifically. You know Jake loves you. You know you love Jake. Maybe, though, there’s something else you’re missing. Something that lies underneath, thrumming through your bloodstream.

You don’t text him about the note. You don’t allow yourself to count it as something viable, something real. You do, however, pin it on your bulletin board. That seems like a natural thing a girlfriend would do when receiving a cute note. It now hangs next to a polaroid picture of you and Jake from two summers ago, the last day of break before your junior year of high school. You were hanging out at your close friend Jungwon’s house, one last hurrah before classes started. You smile fondly thinking back on the memory.

It was elementary fun, intense rounds of Twister and heated rivalries in a game of Monopoly that lasted the whole night. You were surrounded by some of the people you love most in this world, but things were still getting loud. You slipped out to the balcony to catch a moment of silence, relishing in the feel of the cool night air on your skin. Jake found you soon after noticing you’d disappeared. He knew you and how you got in situations like this. He wasn’t overly concerned, just checking up on you like he always did. Spotting a camera someone had left outside, he nudged you for a picture. Tired from the socializing, you languidly rested your chin on his shoulder while he grinned for the shot. The flash went off, temporarily blinding you and making you both laugh. Once the photo developed, he gave it an approving look, then slipped it into your back pocket without another word. You sat out there together in silence, just enjoying each other’s presence until Heeseung called you back inside, announcing that a game of Apples to Apples would be starting up soon. Jake took your hand and you walked back in together. That’s just the way things were. That’s how they’ve always been. 

Seeing his note right next to the picture of you two eases something in your soul. It feels right, like that’s where both items belong. Together. 

You don’t really sleep that night, at least not as well as you did the night before. You more so drift in and out of consciousness, staring into the dark of your bedroom and then closing your eyes and seeing you and Jake. The fragmented dreams play in parts, a choppy slideshow of your friendship through the years. 

Three years old, playing in the dirt in your backyard. A few years later, riding scooters down his street as if trying to escape the imminent nighttime. Eleven years old, pummeling each other with snowballs in the winter. Thirteen years old, sitting on your roof while the sun slowly sank down beneath the trees. Seventeen years old, driving around in his car with the windows down, music blasting and wind blowing through your hair. 

You wake up tired, dazed, and groggy. Whatever it is that has ailed you lately, you need to get over it. You’re so close to completing your plan. You roll over with a groan, blindly feeling around for your phone. Checking your notifications, you see new texts from Jake, timestamped 45 minutes ago. 

jakey <3:

good morning mastermind 

so i was thinking 

today i should ask you to be my valentine 

like BIG 

like so obvious ykwim

wait dont reply

its gonna be a surprise 😛

Just then, there’s a clatter against your bedroom window. Maybe it was a stupid bird, you think to yourself. A second later, another clatter. Was that a rock? 

You go over to your window and slide it open, sticking your head out to see what’s going on. 

“Wait, no!” you hear in the distance. You end up narrowly dodging a flying pebble that was headed straight for your face. It lands on your floor with a clunk. 

“I’m so sorry!” Jake shouts from down below. He’s standing on your lawn, right beneath where your bedroom is. In his hands, he’s holding a large heart shaped box, a ladybug Pillow Pet, and another bouquet of flowers, roses this time. Attached to the front of the chocolate box is a paper sign with the words, YOU’RE THE ONLY LADY I WANT TO BUG scrawled across in thick black marker. 

You are genuinely rendered speechless, mouth agape, just staring at him standing there. 

“Can you, uh,” he shouts up again, “can you come down here?” 

You blink, your consciousness kicking back in. “Right,” you shout back. “Yeah, of course.” 

You leave your room and head downstairs, passing by your mom in the kitchen on your way to the front door. She’s sitting at the table, drinking her morning coffee.

“Is Jake out there?” she asks curiously. “I could’ve sworn I heard his voice.” 

“He is,” you confirm, still moving toward the door. “He asked me to come dow-” 

As you swing the door open, there in the doorway stands Jake in all his fabricated romantic glory. He’s there on your doorstep, arms still full of his offerings of love. 

“Hi,” he breathes out.

“Hi,” you echo, taking in all of the details close up now. You hear your mom gasp loudly somewhere behind you, but you don’t turn around. You keep your eyes on Jake. 

“So, I have a question,” he offers. “And I’m really hoping I know the answer already.” He takes a step closer. “Y/N,” he begins, “will you be my valentine?” 

You smile, nodding while you move closer to him. “Yes, Jake,” you say, taking the bouquet of flowers from his hand. “Of course I’ll be your valentine.”

He grins wide, pulling you in for a hug. He smells like roses and fresh laundry and just Jake. You let yourself indulge in the scent before pulling back slightly, your face inches away from his. He’s looking into your eyes, searching for acclamation from you. You nod your head in the slightest, confirming that it’s perfect. Jake then looks over your shoulder, prompting you to turn around, too. 

Your mom is beaming, smiling proudly while holding up her phone, recording the whole thing. “Adorable!” She puts the phone down. “Nicely done, Jake.” 

“Thanks for your help,” he returns sincerely. “I think it went pretty well, all things considered.” He flirtatiously nudges your shoulder, then sends you a wink. 

You turn to your mom. “You helped with this?” You thought that you were supposed to be the one making secret plans, not the other way around. 

“The moms and I conspired last night,” Jake confesses, not looking one bit guilty. “I wanted it to be perfect.” His eyes are bright, refulgent. He looks so happy. 

“It was.” Somewhere deep in the back of your mind, that tiny voice comes alive again. Imagine if it was real, it whispers to you. You tell it to shut up. “Thank you, Jake.” You’re impressed by all the effort he’s put in for a relationship that doesn’t actually exist. “Really. You didn’t have to do all this.” 

“I wanted to,” is all he justifies it by. That’s enough. “Here,” he readjusts his hold on the gifts. “I’ll help you put these up in your room.” 

You walk upstairs together in a charged silence. The moment your door closes, you start talking. 

“Jake. That was adorable.” You’re still amazed at how good it was. “The chocolates? The sign? The ladybug Pillow Pet? Even the roses, just… wow.” 

“Oh, that reminds me.” He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a singular pink tulip, holding it out to you. “Because I know these are your favorites. That matters more.” 

You melt. What the hell. 

You reach out to take the flower by the stem, your fingers brushing against his. “I really don’t know what to say.” You haven’t stopped smiling since you saw him. “This is amazing.” 

“It was pretty easy, believe it or not,” he expounds. “Every year, you buy these chocolates, whether you have a valentine or not. You truly are the only lady I want to bug, that just sums us up. And I remembered you used to have a ladybug Pillow Pet when we were kids.”

You pout at his thoughtfulness. “You remember that?” You hadn’t imagined that was even significant to him. 

“‘Course I do,” he says softly. “How could I ever forget Spotty Scotty?” He laughs, the sound carrying throughout your room. 

“Gosh,” you set the flowers down on your bed and replace their occupancy with the stuffed animal. It’s soft and plush. You run your fingers over the fur, silky to the touch. “I haven’t seen one of these in years. Not since-” 

“Since you lost Spotty Scotty on that road trip when you left him at a gas station,” he finishes for you. “You called me crying about it.”

You laugh lightly. “How lame,” you joke. “It was just a dumb stuffed animal.”

“Hey,” Jake interjects, warning in his tone. “No, he wasn’t. He meant a lot to you.” 

Thinking back on all the time you spent moping about after losing Spotty Scotty, the emotions you felt come flooding back. That, mixed with the sincerity behind Jake’s gift, makes your eyes start to burn. 

He sees it immediately, hands coming up to rest on the sides of your arms, thumbs smoothing comfortingly. “You okay?” he asks gently. 

“I’m fine,” you blink away the incoming tears and clutch the Pillow Pet a little tighter in your arms. “This just means a lot.”

He gives you a lopsided smile, like he totally understands. 

“Especially just for a fake Valentine’s proposal,” you add. You don’t mean it as a dig. It’s just the truth.

Jake falters for a fraction of a second. If you blinked, you’d miss it. His smile twitches and his eyes dim slightly, his thumb on your arm slowing down by a small measure. “Right.” His tone is flatter than it was a minute ago. He clears his throat. “So, now that we’re officially valentines, we should get started on how the actual day’s gonna go.” 

“Okay,” you agree, your emotional high steadily dwindling. “I was thinking we go for dinner at The Claw. I made a reservation last week.”

“Whoa, on Valentine’s?” Jake’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The Claw was one of the most popular restaurants in town, especially for couples and especially on Valentine’s. “Do I have to pay?” He’s half joking. He’s heard from his friends how expensive those entrees are. 

You stare at him, expression blank, for exactly one second, then roll your head about lackadaisically. “I thought about it, but I don’t want to make you-” 

“I was just kidding.” He cuts you off. “I don’t mind paying.” 

“Even though it’s for a date meant to be the downfall of our heavily falsified romantic relationship?” You tilt your head, waiting for him to backpedal. He doesn’t. 

 “Yes,” he maintains his position. “We want our moms to think we’re a bad couple. That doesn’t mean they also have to think I’m a bad guy.” He pauses. “How are we even supposed to get our moms there with us?”

“I have an idea.”

Fast forward to Wednesday, you and Jake are bustling about in his kitchen. Valentines is on Saturday, and you still have yet to confirm that your moms will be there with you at The Claw. Tonight is a regular dinner between your two families, a common occurrence, although the atmosphere has adjusted given that you and Jake are now “dating.” The first twenty minutes of dinner were spent reliving your most embarrassing childhood moments, listening to story after story. You tuned it out, instead focusing on feeding Layla, Jake’s family dog, under the table until you got caught. 

Both sets of parents are at the dining table, laughter over wine echoing through the house. They sent you and Jake to go retrieve the dessert from the fridge, giving you a quick moment to debrief your plan. 

“Got it,” Jake says, holding a plate of cheesecake in his hands as he kicks his fridge shut with the back of his foot. “Could you grab the extra plates?”

You navigate the kitchen seamlessly, knowing it like the back of your hand. You grab the plates from an overhead cabinet and place them on the counter. “I think we should ask them now,” you say under your breath. Your parents are out of earshot, but better safe than sorry. 

“Me too,” he agrees. “But, oh my gosh, I can already hear them making fun of us.” He winces, closing his eyes like he just had a vision of it happening. 

You laugh once. “Why?” 

“Because,” he explains, “it’s our first Valentines and we’re gonna spend it with our moms.” He lets out an airy laugh. “It’s funny.” 

“Hey,” Jake’s mom calls from the other room, “can you grab some fruits from the fridge? The cheesecake needs toppings.”

“Yes, Mom!” Jake calls back. He turns and opens the fridge again, standing there with his back to you while he looks for said fruit. “Who was your last valentine, anyway?” he questions over his shoulder. 

“Hm,” you ponder, leaning your forearms on the counter. “I mean, last year, Jungwon and I were valentines as friends. Does that count?” It wasn’t a big deal, you just bought each other candy and took a couple pictures together. 

“Sure,” Jake offers, still rummaging through the contents of his fridge, though now he’s accumulating a stack of fruit containers balanced on his forearm. “But, like, you guys weren’t really a thing.” He pauses. “Were you?” 

You can’t help but snort at his question. “Me and Jungwon? A thing? That’s a good one.” Sure, Jungwon was one of your closest friends, but your relationship was more akin to two evil homeless cats stalking the streets as opposed to lovers.

“Just asking, you never know what people really feel,” he defends, still turned around. “He used to have a crush on you freshman year, you know.” 

“I did know, actually,” you confess. “Jay told me about it in the science lab one day. He got over it a week later, though.” You laugh at the memory. “You know, I really never expanded my dating pool like I thought I would in high school. Middle school me would be severely disappointed.” 

“At least you’ve got a second, albeit fake boyfriend now,” he jokes. “That’s gotta count for something.” 

“I’ll put you on my extensive list of lovers, for sure,” you quip back. “What about you?” 

Come to think of it, Jake hasn’t had much of a dating life, either. Though definitely not for lack of interest. He was smart, funny, nice, and attractive (though you hate to admit it). Many of your friends have asked for his number, and you’ve given it, trying to play wingwoman. You’d never hear about it after that, though. Nothing ever progressed, it seemed. 

“What do you mean?” he asks further. 

“How come you haven’t had a girlfriend since seventh grade? I mean, it’s not like you haven’t had anyone interested.” You can recall a long list of girls that have fawned over Jake Sim. “I’ve seen the plethora of valentine cards spill out of your locker every year. Hell, I’ve even helped people write some of them.”

He turns around finally, balancing the stack of fruit on his arm. “I guess I never really thought about it,” he admits, like he himself is thinking about it for the first time. “I just wasn’t interested back. Nothing was wrong with any of them, they were really nice, it’s just,” he pauses for a second, thinking through his wording. “I could never see myself with any of them. Does that make sense?” 

You consider it. He’s always been a practical guy, so it makes sense he’d take the same approach to dating. Why waste time if you know there’s no point? “I guess,” you shrug. Then the thought comes to you, just out of plain curiosity. “Who did you see yourself with, then?” There had to have been a slip, a moment of weakness where he liked someone else. At least once.

“You,” he says simply and honestly without missing a beat. Without even looking up at you, he starts rearranging the fruit containers so he can hold them in one hand, the plate of cheesecake in the other. “Don’t forget the plates,” he adds like nothing happened. 

You don’t say anything, just move in a daze until somehow you end up back in your seat at the table. That feeling in your chest is back. Again. You ignore it. Again. 

“So, you two,” your dad addresses you and Jake, “what are your big plans for Valentines?” 

Jake swallows his bite of cheesecake and answers before you can. “We have a reservation at The Claw. Feels so fancy and grown up,” he laughs. 

“Well,” your dad says, “you guys aren’t little kids anymore. You’re eighteen now, heading off to college soon. Crazy to think about.” 

“Oh, don’t bring that up!” your mom scolds him, “I’ll start crying if we talk about it. It seems like just yesterday you were crying because you had diaper rash-“

“Okay, I think we’ve reached the limit on the nostalgia for today,” you interrupt, having had your fill of old stories. “We were supposed to go on a double date with some of our friends, but,” you wince. “Things aren’t going so well between them right now.” 

“Oh, no,” Jake’s mom says. “Always so sad when couples don’t work out. Just hurts everyone involved.” 

You and Jake look at each other, knowing exactly what the other is thinking. 

“Not that that would happen to you two,” his mom adds on quickly. “I think we all know you guys will last.” 

Neither of you can respond to that and keep a clean conscience. 

“Our reservation was for a party of four,” you get back to the topic of the date. “But since our friends canceled, we have no one else to go with.”

“We were wondering,” Jake starts casually, “if any of you wanted to come with us?” 

“Not that we want to ruin your Valentine's plans,” you quickly add on. “We know it’s an important night for you, too.” You bite the inside of your cheek, silently pleading. Please, please take the bait. 

“We would love to!” Jake’s mom accepts. Upon receiving a confused glance from her husband, she clarifies, “Not us,” she gestures between herself and your mom, “us.”

“Ooh, yes!” Your mom agrees, clasping her hands happily. “That sounds wonderful. I love The Claw.” She looks at you and Jake. “Are you sure you’re okay with us coming along? That wouldn’t intrude on your night?” 

“Not in the slightest,” you smile brightly. “We’d love to have you two there. It’ll be fun.” 

“Aww,” Jake’s dad teases. “Even though they’re bigger now, our babies still love their mommas.” 

Jake shoots you a look that says, Called it. He just nods his head. “Yes. And that’s not a crime.” He takes another bite of cheesecake, piling on the blueberries as garnish. “Sorry to steal your Valentines,” he atones to both your dads.

“Against you two, we never stood a chance,” your dad laughs. He has a point. You find it comical how quick your moms were to ditch their husbands for their kids. “But it’s okay. We can reschedule.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jake’s dad confers. “All that matters is that the ladies are happy. You’ll grow to learn that, someday.” 

“Yeah,” Jake says absentmindedly, sneaking a glance at you. “I’m sure I will.” 

The rest of the week comes and goes in the blink of an eye. Before you know it, it’s Valentine's eve, and you’re preparing both mentally and physically for the big day. 

Jake comes over in the evening, bearing another set of gifts—this time featuring a small heart-shaped piece of paper. When he hands it to you, you eye it curiously. You’re in your bedroom, your playlist of 90s love songs playing through a speaker providing an appropriate atmosphere for the upcoming holiday. You were in the process of getting everything ready for tomorrow–finalizing an outfit, double checking the reservation, doing some last minute room cleaning so you wouldn’t be grounded–when he knocked lightly on your door before entering. 

“Aww,” you coo, looking at all the detail on it. It’s a handmade valentine, cute and crafty like the ones you make in elementary school. Red construction paper cut into a heart, trimmed with lace around the edges and glitter glue embellishments. The top left corner reads, To: Y/N, From: Jake. It’s adorable and juvenile. “This is so cute!” You look up at Jake and see him eyeing you expectantly, like he’s waiting for you to say something else, to notice something.

When all you do is furrow your eyebrows slightly, he just lets out a breath and says, “Thanks. I thought you’d like it.” His eyes lose focus for half a second before he blinks. “So, tomorrow. What’s our game plan?” 

“I’m glad you asked.” You set the valentine on the corner of your dresser, right beside his vase full of the flowers he got you. “Our reservation’s at 6:30. You drive over here with your mom, but we take two cars to the restaurant, me and you and our moms.” 

Jake nods thoughtfully, his hand coming up to scratch his chin. “Sounds good. And how’s the sabotage gonna go?” 

“Okay,” you take a deep breath and grab both sides of his face. His skin is warm to the touch. “Jake, I need you to promise me something.”

He looks worried, like you’re about to tell him you murdered someone and need his help to hide the body. Not that he’d hesitate for even a second, if you did. 

“I need you to be the worst fake boyfriend ever tomorrow,” you tell him, your tone and face dead serious. “Whatever you’d want to do, whatever you think is right, you do the opposite. Can you do that?” In the background, Brighter Than Sunshine by Aqualung fades out, You’re Still the One by Shania Twain playing next.

He matches your expression and nods in earnest. “I solemnly swear, Y/N.” He rests his hands on your wrists, just holding, offering support. “I promise to be the worst fake boyfriend you’ll ever have.” 

You break out into a grin and spontaneously pull him into a hug. The urge just overtakes you. Even though you’ve never been a hugger, the past few weeks with Jake have made you rethink your stance on the matter. You’ve come to enjoy the physical closeness, the warmth, the way you can hear his heart beating steady under his chest. You get why hugs have gotten the reputation of this utmost wonderful expression of affection. It’s one of the most natural proofs of love. With how perfectly he can rest his chin on your head, how snugly you can nuzzle into his neck—it’s like you and Jake were designed to fit together like puzzle pieces. He initially freezes when you wrap your arms around him, still getting used to this version of you, but soon after melts into your embrace. He lays his cheek on your head and the two of you inattentively start swaying in a slow, comfortable rhythm, accompanied by the low noise of the song. 

“Do you think it’s actually gonna work?” Jake asks quietly. You know what he’s referring to. This whole plan, the unnecessarily elaborate scheme to get your mothers to stop bugging the two of you. 

“I don’t really know,” you admit to him. Truthfully, you’re not sure anything could enervate your moms’ certainty that you and Jake are meant for each other. “I hope so.” 

“Yeah, me too,” he says, but his voice is reserved, distracted. He pauses for a breath. “I’m kinda gonna miss this.” 

You hum in question, arms still wrapped around him. “Miss what?” 

“This,” he says. “Us.” That plain, simple word containing a multitude of meanings, lifetimes spent and countless reinventions of love. 

“There will always be us, Jake,” you tell him, although you understand what he’s getting at. This version of you together. “That won’t change, even after this is over.” 

“I know, I know,” he sighs from somewhere deep in his chest. “It’s just-” He cuts himself off. “Never mind. You’re right.” He holds you a second longer, then embraces you just a little harder before letting go, stepping back from you. “I’ll see you tomorrow. 6:00 PM sharp.” He smiles. With a fake salute and nod of his head, Jake leaves, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. 

read part two here!

taglist: @tinyteezer @betagalactose @simj4k3 @isa942572 @yunkivamp @reinmyheart @kopeg @vissnipherwifeey @littlesweettea-aine @jakesaverse @ikeufied @lotsafim @jaehyp @jvngw0nlvr @klowiishere @tvm-m-blog @zielyous @mhoonstruck @moonstrucksofie @lilscast @fluorjscent @hueningsgirl @fancypeacepersona @wobblymug

[hyunpic]

[mevil]

[lizholmes]

[chwedout]

11 YEARS OF SEVENTEEN for eternity ₊˚⊹♡

[yohjimuse]

scrunkly x2

[birbliophile]

made a thing.

[3racha-agustd]

Me, every time Channie posts something

[lokihiddleston]

PROJECT HAIL MARY (2026)

[corvidkiid]

tumblr is such a different animal than other social media platforms for so many reasons obviously but one thing i really find funny about it is how on other sites if i see something that doesn't interest me i don't follow or don't like the post. but on here if someone i follow starts posting exclusively about something really niche that i have no interest in my reaction is never to unfollow. its just part of the natural environment. like oh mutual is now really into pro wrestling? ok i guess ill be seeing these guys around now

[rylandsgrace]

[puppyms]

[dogpuppy]

Welcome to Jennifer’s Gougar Gave

[thegilly]

The original Quarrymen minus their leader in July 1997 on the same spot at St Peter’s Church, where the famous Quarrymen picture by Geoff Rhind was taken on 6 July 1957, the day John met Paul and everything changed.

[the-supernatural-atheist]

I did not have parasocial relations with that man