professional yearner (jake sim edition)
summary: growing up, you had two heroes: jake and sunghoon. thick and thin, chaos and crayons, they were always there. so when your ex dumped you for "being so oddly close to your best friends” well… fair. but what he didn’t get is that you never needed him. you’ve always had jake sim and maybe that was the problem.
genre: fluff | best friends to lovers | jake's a professional yearner
characters: best friend!jake x f!reader
warnings: kissing? making out? thats it!
The schoolyard was too hot. The kind of heat that made your socks stick to your ankles and your patience wear thin. It smelled vaguely like cheese sticks and someone’s forgotten gym shirt. And in the middle of it all—Jake Sim was crying.
Not the loud, hiccuping kind. No. Jake cried the way the sky threatened rain—quiet, heavy, trembling on the edge. His eyes were red, his mouth pressed into a thin, brave line, and his fingers clutched a half-crushed grape soda like it might hold him together.
Across from him stood Minhyuk Kang. Middle school tyrant. Bad haircut. Worse personality. He was smirking like he’d won something.
Your backpack hit the ground as you stormed across the yard, fists curled tight. Your heart pounded in your ears. You didn’t even think—just moved, fueled by friendship and blind loyalty.
“Hey!” you shouted, voice cracking. “Pick on someone your own size, you—oversized… loser!”
Not your best. You were eleven. Your brain was still 60% Capri Sun.
Minhyuk blinked, unimpressed. Then shoved you. Hard.
You hit the pavement with a thud, landing on your butt. Your backpack burst open–papers, pencils, and one private doodle of a sparkly unicorn horse went flying across the asphalt.
Laughter erupted around you.
That tired, long-suffering sigh that said “I’m getting tired of this,” from a boy who was spiritually seventy-five years old.
He approached with his hoodie sleeves covering his hands and his cap tilted sideways, like he couldn’t be bothered but also like he was already deciding how to fix this. He stopped beside you and glanced at the chaos—Jake’s glassy eyes, your scraped knees, Minhyuk’s dumb smirk.
Without saying a word, he gave Minhyuk a look.
The kind of look that could curdle milk. Or send boys twice his size packing.
Minhyuk flinched. Then, like the coward he was, mumbled something about catching his bus and slinked away.
You blinked up at Sunghoon. Jake sniffed beside you.
And then—without coordination, without thinking—you and Jake both lunged forward and wrapped your arms around Sunghoon at the same time.
He froze. Sighed again. But he didn’t pull away.
“I’m gonna be stuck looking after you two for the rest of my life, aren’t I?” he muttered.
You grinned into his sleeve. “Yep.”
“Definitely,” Jake added, his voice a little wobbly but smiling now.
Sunghoon didn’t say he loved you.
