#and HER REAL LIFE FATHER is your IDOL and also...you?

[miametropolis]

the fact that david tennant married the woman who played his daughter on the TV still haunts me occasionally (this is nothing against georgia, we love georgia) but the thing that makes me sit up at night in a cold sweat is the fact that his FATHER IN LAW is the fifth doctor. imagine your fucking father-in-law is Doctor Who. anyways.

[heesmiles]

MAMA, I'M IN LOVE WITH A CRIMINAL P.JS

೨౿ ⠀  ׅ ⠀   ̇ 24k ⸝⸝ . ‌ ׅ ⸺ word count.

pairings 𝜗𝜚criminal ! jay ៹ rival family ! kang ! reader ᧁ;smut ˒ angst ˒ violence ˒romeo and juliet au

warnings ⊹₊ ⋆ smut body worship fingering (in a church) angst graphic depictions of violence dark themes (i’m being serious) kidnapping held captive death injuries forbidden romance romeo and juliet au some toxic religious beliefs small town vibes ft taehyun (txt) ft yunah (illit) ft felix (stray kids) made up names for jay's parents fictional death of real life idols

in which ୨୧He was a mystery. One you didn't know if you could solve. Hidden behind the shadows of his past and his duty to his family. He was no man for you, no. You needed a good man, a man that could provide and you knew that. So why did you want him so bad? No matter how dangerous, no matter how wrong.

★ ! rain's mic is on ⋆ ͘ . lord. I seen a tiktok edit to Britney Spears 'criminal' with jay and I literally couldn't stop thinking about it. I'm a sucker for Romeo and Juliet type of stories and jay is so perf for this. Also; I hope you guys will understand the ending to this — i tried to make it clear that i was not romanticizing the things that happened in here but also make it known that not everything is black and white in the world; sometimes decisions are more complex than just simply right or wrong. If you have any questions on my intentions with the ending; feel free to respectfully ask and i’m more than happy to explain. There will be no part two. THIS IS A REPOST.

The chapel smells like old pinewood and older secrets. You sit between your brother and your mother, stiff in your Sunday best, your spine straight as the hymnals stacked behind the pew. The stained-glass windows cast slivers of color across the congregation, blood reds, bruised purples, the blue of a cold winter sky. Light falls like confession, quietly and without permission. You are not paying attention to the sermon. You never do.

The pastor drones on at the pulpit, words like smoke dissolving into the high beams of the chapel ceiling, but your mind drifts toward the murmuring of silk dresses and the creak of wooden pews, toward the undercurrent of small-town theater playing out in god’s house. Your father sits to your left, a statue carved of stone and pride. You feel the tension in his body like a heat source; silent, simmering, the kind of rage that has long since been iced over by responsibility. Your mother holds Minji in her lap, fingers curling gently around your little sister’s arm, but her eyes are watching everyone else in the church. 

The pews smell of lemon oil and something more human, powder and old perfume, the sweat of people trying to look holy. Minji starts kicking the pew in front of you, gently at first, like she’s testing the patience of the wood. Tap, tap, tap. Then harder. Thud. Your brother, Taehyun, flicks her a warning glance, but says nothing. You lean over, whispering sharp and low, like the way your mother does when guests are over ��Minji. Stop.”. She glares at you with the full offense of a seven-year-old wronged. Her lip trembles. You already know what’s coming before she opens her mouth. 

She starts to cry; loud, wet, dramatic sobs that echo off the vaulted ceiling like thunder in a quiet storm. Heads turn. A few old women in floral skirts give sympathetic glances; others look annoyed. The pastor doesn’t pause, but you feel the church shift, the way it always does when something unscripted happens. Your mother turns to you, lips tight, voice sweetly cutting.  “Take her to the bathroom,” she hisses, her nails brushing your wrist like a warning. “Now.” You nod, standing and tugging Minji’s hand. She follows, sniffling, dragging her feet like she’s on the way to execution. You step out into the aisle, heat rising in your cheeks from the attention; most eyes pretend not to watch, but you feel them. You always feel them. Small towns are built on watching. You rush to the bathroom in the very back of the church, closed off and muggy. Surrounded by a long hallway of doors upon doors with who knows what in them. 

The bathroom smells like baby powder and old tile, the kind of sterile clean that never truly feels clean. Minji is humming a made-up song to herself behind the heavy door, the sound broken now and then by the rush of the faucet and the scrape of her shoes against the floor. You lean against the opposite wall, arms crossed, eyes flicking across the narrow hallway that leads deeper into the back corridors of the church; the kind of place children are told not to wander and adults forget to remember. It’s quiet here. Too quiet. You can still hear the low cadence of the sermon through the walls, like a heartbeat underwater. But underneath that; there. A sound. A sharp rustle, then a low thump. Muffled. Human. 

You stiffen. For a moment, it’s nothing. Could be a broom falling over, could be the wind sneaking through the stained glass seams. But then it comes again: a grunt, quick and strangled. Another thud. You glance toward the end of the hall, where a door hangs slightly ajar. Beyond it, darkness pools like ink in the corners of the church’s storage room. A place for old hymnals, broken nativity statues, forgotten folding chairs. You shouldn’t move. You know this. Every instinct in you, trained by caution, by family, by a lifetime of walking straight lines, tells you to stay planted, to wait for Minji and return to your seat and never speak of what you thought you heard. But curiosity, you’ve learned, is a quiet rebellion. A whisper that grows teeth. 

So you walk. Slowly. Barefoot-quiet in your heeled shoes. You reach the door, place your palm on the wood, breath hitched in your throat like a prayer waiting to break. You lean in, ear to the crack. Another grunt. And a voice; feminine, breathy, choked with a sound you’ve only ever heard behind closed doors in dramas you weren’t allowed to watch. You flinch, but your hand betrays you, fingers curling around the handle like it belongs to you. And then you open it. 

The light from the hallway slashes across the room, carving shadows into skin. You freeze. Park Jongseong. His back is bare, muscles flexing like a marble sculpture brought violently to life. His shirt is bunched around his waist, and his hands are on a girl. A girl you recognize, barely. Yumi. Her mouth is open in a gasp that doesn’t get the chance to leave. Her dress hiked up like it never belonged to her in the first place. Their limbs are tangled, their sins so vivid it feels like you're watching a sacred text being burned. Jay looks up. His eyes catch yours like a knife catches light. They widen, not with guilt, but with recognition — you, of all people. The breath leaves your lungs like glass shattering on cold tile. You slam the door so hard it rattles the frame.  

You’re trembling, though you don’t know if it’s from shame or shock or some strange cocktail of both. You spin around, heart thudding a war drum in your chest. Minji is just stepping out of the bathroom, drying her small hands on her dress. She doesn’t notice the way your hands shake as you reach for hers. Doesn’t see the way your eyes are wide, unfocused, filled with something that shouldn’t be there. “We’re going back,” you say, voice too high, too sharp. She doesn’t argue. Just nods and follows you, humming again, a tune too sweet for the ruin in your chest. 

You walk back into the sanctuary like a ghost in a girl’s body. You sit beside your mother, folding your hands in your lap like nothing happened, like you didn’t just see sin spill in a place meant for salvation. Your father doesn't glance at you. Taehyun doesn’t notice. But your mother turns slightly, just enough to give you a once-over; the kind that sees everything and says nothing. She thinks the crying was too much for you. She thinks you’ve been startled by your sister’s fit. And maybe she’s right, in a way. You’ve been startled. You’ve been unmade. 

And across the church, hidden in the shadows of holy silence, you feel him. Jay. And it’s not just what he did. It’s not just the shame of seeing it. It’s the way he looked at you. Like you were the one caught. Like he had nothing to hide. You stare straight ahead at the altar, but your mind stays in that room, with the taste of heat and velvet breath and the raw burn of a boundary shattered. You were innocent. Now, you’re aware. And awareness, you’re beginning to realize, is the beginning of every great tragedy. 

The service ends with the gentle hush of murmured amens and the rustle of Sunday clothes brushing past one another like leaves in a breeze. The congregation begins its slow migration out of the pews, a tide of polite smiles, handshakes, and the same conversations they’ve had for years, wearing different dresses. Your mother and father slip easily into their places; your father all firm nods and clipped words, your mother like a practiced socialite, her smile painted just perfectly at the edges. You, Taehyun, and Minji remain behind, lingering in your spot like the forgotten echo of a hymn, three children carved from the same silence. 

Minji swings her legs, her little shoes knocking against the pew in soft rhythm. She’s already forgotten the earlier outburst, too busy playing with the lace trim of her dress and watching Soojin across the room with an expression that flickers between curiosity and envy. Taehyun leans back, arms crossed, eyes roving lazily over the crowd. You try not to look for him. Not for Jay. But your eyes betray you like they always do, wandering before your mind gives them permission. And there he is. Standing by his mother, tall and lean like a shadow at sunset, too sharp around the edges to be beautiful, but too striking to ignore. Jay. His hands are in his pockets, posture relaxed, but there's a glint in his eye, dangerous, knowing. His mouth tilts into a crooked, unbearable smirk when his gaze meets yours. 

Like a match lit in the back of your throat. He knows. He knows you saw. You look down instantly, cheeks burning, staring at your shoes as though they can explain how to erase memory. But there’s no forgetting the picture burned into your eyelids. No way to smother the sound of that half-stifled breath, the friction of skin, the fall of a name not yours. You hear your name drift through the air like a ripple over still water. “Come here, sweetheart,” your mother calls, her voice sweet enough to sting. You rise on instinct, smoothing your skirt with trembling hands, and walk the long aisle toward her like you’re walking a tightrope, each step balanced between ruin and restraint. 

She stands with Jay’s mother, who is dressed in pastel pink, too pristine for the venom coiled beneath her voice. Their conversation is coated in sugar, but you can hear the brittle underneath; like porcelain tea cups about to crack. “Oh, she’s grown so much,” Jay’s mother says, her smile wide and empty. “Just lovely.” Your mother laughs, high and bright like wind chimes in a storm. “Time goes fast. I can barely keep up.” 

You can feel their words curling around you like ivy, decorative and choking. You nod, bow your head politely, try not to flinch as Soojin skips up to Minji and pulls her by the hand to the patch of grass outside the chapel. They giggle, bright as birdsong, unaware of the blood history buried beneath their fathers’ names. And beside them, like a wolf in Sunday clothes, stands Jay. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. He looks at you like he’s still in that room. Like he can still see you there, wide-eyed, breathless, trembling at the threshold of something you shouldn’t have witnessed. His smirk deepens, lazy and cruel, and you feel it all the way in your stomach.

Your skin prickles. “What the hell was that look?” Taehyun mutters behind you, his tone low, edged with suspicion. He nudges you sharply with his knee, and you nearly stumble. You keep your eyes on your feet. “Nothing,” you say, too quickly. “I’ll tell you later.”

Taehyun narrows his eyes but doesn’t push. He knows you. He knows when to wait. You stand there, between your mother and your enemy’s mother, with your hands clasped and your mouth sewn shut, while your past, your present, and your sins walk the churchyard outside; laughing like children, smirking like boys who don’t believe in consequences. You think maybe you don’t either. Not anymore. 

The conversation begins to wilt, as all forced things do; smiles sagging at the corners, eyes flicking elsewhere in search of escape. Your mother and Jay’s mother trade the kind of compliments that glitter like broken glass: delicate, dazzling, and meant to cut. Behind them, laughter ripples from the church lawn, where Minji and Soojin chase each other in slow, dizzying circles, their dresses fanning out like blooming petals, too young to know the soil they’re rooted in. You glance once toward Jay, who leans against the edge of the wooden steps with his hands still buried in his pockets, his dark hair curling slightly at his temple, his expression unreadable now, less amused, more distant, as if even he feels the weight pressing down from generations above him. And then your father arrives. 

He moves through the crowd like a tide against stone, unyielding and deliberate. The chatter quiets a little wherever he steps, the way air thins before a storm. You feel him before he speaks; a presence that coils around your ribcage and makes your breath shallow. His eyes are sharp beneath the brim of his hat, and when he stops beside your mother, you see the brief flicker of something harden in Jay’s mother’s posture. “Mrs. Park,” he says, voice even, smooth, but cold in the way marble is cold. “Where’s your husband this fine morning? Too busy for the Lord?” 

She blinks once. Her smile holds, but only just. “Business,” she replies. “He’s out of town, dealing with a shipment issue in the city.” Your father’s silence stretches just long enough to make everyone feel it. “I’m sure he is,” he says finally, the words slow and heavy, like stones dropped into a still pond. The implication hangs there; thick, clinging, undeniable. 

You feel your stomach twist. Even the sun seems to dim for a moment, slipping behind a lazy cloud as if to shield its eyes. Your mother steps in like a practiced violinist interrupting a wrong note mid-performance. Her hand grazes your father’s elbow with the familiarity of a thousand such interventions. “Well,” she says lightly, too brightly, “we should be going. The roast will overcook if we linger much longer.” She turns to Jay’s mother with that polished grace only women in battle can master. “It was so lovely catching up. Truly.” 

Jay’s mother nods. Her smile has slipped further now, the edges brittle. “Of course. Always.” You’re ushered away quickly, your mother’s hand at your back firm and urging, her pace brisk as she gathers Minji from the grass, calls for Taehyun, and pulls your family together like a shepherd herding sheep out of a lion’s den. No one speaks until the church doors are behind you, the air suddenly cooler, less suffocating.

You’re nearly free. The gravel of the church path crunches beneath your shoes as your family moves forward, a cluster of matching postures and purposeful steps, like soldiers retreating from a battlefield dressed in Sunday best. The weight begins to lift from your chest, bit by bit, with every step away from those lingering glances and brittle conversations. You tell yourself you’ll forget what you saw, that it was an accident, a fleeting mistake swallowed by stained glass and holy silence. But just as you pass the old oak tree near the chapel gate, a hand snakes out and closes around your wrist. You freeze. The world seems to narrow into a pinprick.

Jay. His fingers are calloused, his grip strong; not enough to hurt, but enough to root you to the spot like a nail through your spine. He’s close. Too close. His face is calm, cold, carved from the same shadows that seem to cling to him even in the daylight. There is no trace of that smirk now. No mischief. No boyish charm. Just steel. “Don’t tell anyone what you saw,” he says, low and sharp, each word slicing into the quiet like the snap of a branch underfoot. “Or you’ll regret it.” 

There’s no drama in his voice, no raised tone, no overt threat. Just certainty. Like a promise. Or a prophecy. Your breath lodges somewhere beneath your ribs. You can’t even muster a word, only a nod, small and trembling, as your heart begins to stutter inside your chest like it’s trying to run ahead of you. He lets go as suddenly as he appeared, melting back into the periphery like a sin you can’t prove you committed. The imprint of his touch remains, hot and phantomlike, as you hurry back to your family with your head down and your thoughts unraveling at the seams. You slip into step beside them just in time to hear your father’s voice break the fragile calm. 

“If I ever catch you talking to the likes of Park Jongseong,” he says, without turning his head, “I will ship you off to a convent so fast you’ll be reciting rosaries before supper.” The words hang in the air, stark and heavy as thunderclouds. “Yes, Daddy,” you say softly, your voice a breath against the wind, your eyes fixed on the ground. And that’s it. No argument. No protest. Because even if you wanted to fight, what would you say? That you didn’t talk to him? That his hand found yours, not the other way around? That he threatened you? That you saw something you can’t unsee?

No. You say nothing. You bow your head like the good girl you’re supposed to be. Like a daughter dressed in obedience and stitched with silence. But beneath your skin, something writhes. Something that feels a lot like shame and a little like fear, but more than anything, like curiosity warped by danger. And as the chapel disappears behind you, you realize this is how it begins. Not with a kiss. But with a warning. 

That night the dining room is warm with the scent of roast chicken and buttered root vegetables, the table laid with modest care, linen napkins folded neatly, wine glasses filled just a touch too high, as though the evening itself demanded the illusion of celebration. Outside, the crickets begin their song beneath the veil of twilight, and the house hums gently with the quiet rituals of family: chairs scraping wood, silverware clinking like distant bells, Minji humming to herself between bites of mashed potatoes. 

You sit across from Taehyun, who nudges your foot under the table once, curious, wordless, but you give him nothing. Not yet. Your mother, dressed in her favorite pale blue blouse, cuts her meat with careful precision, while your father, ever the figure carved from unyielding stone, sips from his wine like it's an act of judgment rather than indulgence. The conversation flits from the mundane to the mechanical, your father talking about a shipment delay, your mother noting the fundraiser next month, Taehyun making a dry comment about work. You listen halfheartedly, moving food around your plate, your thoughts wandering back to the church, to the oak tree, to the ghost of a hand still wrapped around your wrist. But then your mother says it. 

“So,” she begins lightly, as though she’s offering a dessert menu instead of kindling a fire, “Jiyo invited us to dinner next Saturday.” The clink of your father’s knife against his plate is immediate. A small, sharp sound that lands like a gavel. 

“She what?” he says, his voice too calm, the kind of calm that thins the air. Your mother waves her hand, trying to dismiss the storm before it forms. “Just a friendly gesture. She said she’s wanted to reconnect. It’s been years since we’ve sat down like civilized people.” Your father laughs, but it’s humorless, a short, cutting sound like a blade being tested. “And you said yes?”  

“I said I’d think about it.” 

He sets down his fork, dabs his mouth with a napkin, and leans back in his chair like a man preparing to deliver a verdict. “You know how I feel about Chul. That woman chose to build her life beside a snake. What makes you think we owe them the performance of kindness?” 

“She’s not her husband,” your mother says, her tone still soft but no longer passive. “She’s always been sweet to me. To the kids. Especially when you were… gone.” The word lingers — gone — and you feel it hit the table like a dropped stone. Your father’s jaw tightens. “There’s nothing sweet about a woman who lays down with scum and lets him poison the earth around him.” 

“Well,” your mother says, straightening her back, her voice sharpening to a whisper-thin edge, “then I suppose I must be just as rotten. I married a man who once made deals with him too, didn’t I?” The silence that follows is deafening. Your father turns slowly to her, his expression unreadable but his eyes like winter; the kind of cold that doesn’t melt come spring. “Say that again?”

Your mother holds his gaze for half a second longer, a war trembling behind her lashes. But she looks away. She says nothing. Only returns to her plate and cuts her chicken in silence. And that’s it. The conversation dies. No one breathes too loudly. Minji doesn’t notice, she hums and chews and swings her feet. Taehyun reaches for the salt, eyes flicking to yours with quiet warning. Your appetite vanishes like mist in morning sun.

Outside, the wind brushes the windows like fingers trying to get in. Inside, you realize that your family is not made of glass, but of iron, bent into shape by betrayal, rusted over with resentment. And some metals, you think, cannot be reforged. Only buried. 

The night unfurls like silk, cool and gentle, stitched with stars. The backyard hums with crickets and the distant rustle of trees whispering secrets to one another in the dark. You’re curled on a poolside lounge chair, the spine of your book bent beneath your thumb, but your eyes have glossed over the same sentence three times. The page is just a veil now; something to hide behind while your mind wades through the wreckage of the day. The pool glows a soft, pale blue beneath the surface lights, and Taehyun slices through it like a blade through water. His strokes are steady, strong, the kind of motion that speaks of routine, of something he’s learned to rely on. You envy that; his ability to push everything down, to lose himself in rhythm and breath and the sound of water folding in on itself. 

You sigh and adjust your legs, the night air cool against your skin. Sometimes, in rare hours like this, you let yourself believe Taehyun might be the only one who truly sees you. The only one who knows how to read the pauses between your words, the weight behind your silences. Besides Yunah, who is far away tonight, it's always been him; your confidant, your reluctant protector, your brother. He swims one final lap, then glides to the edge and pulls himself out in a single fluid motion, water streaming off his skin in rivulets that catch the dim light. He grabs a towel from the back of a chair and rubs it through his hair, gaze flicking toward you, unreadable but searching. You wait. You know it’s coming. 

He sits at the pool’s edge, legs dangling in the water, shoulders still rising and falling from exertion. The silence thickens, until finally he breaks it. “What was that today?” he asks. “At church. Jay looked at you like…” He pauses, frowns. “And then he grabbed you. What the hell was that about?” You close your book slowly. The words don’t come easily. They never do when shame tangles them first. But this is Taehyun. If there’s anyone you can give them to, raw and imperfect, it’s him. 

“I saw something,” you begin softly. Your voice is barely a whisper, as if the night might shatter if you speak too loudly. “In the church. When I took Minji to the bathroom.” His eyes don’t leave your face. “There were… noises. From one of the storage rooms. I thought someone was hurt,” you say. “But when I opened the door, it was—” You hesitate. “It was Jay. With some girl. Yumi, I think. They were…” 

Taehyun groans, dragging a hand down his face before you can even finish. “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, hugging your knees to your chest. “I slammed the door shut. I didn’t even mean to see it.” 

“And that’s why he grabbed you?” Taehyun says, his voice laced with disbelief and anger, a storm gathering behind his words. “That’s why he gave you that look; like he was daring you to open your mouth.” You nod. “He told me not to tell anyone. Said I’d regret it.” 

Taehyun curses again, sharper this time. “What a goddamn asshole.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, shaking his head like he’s trying to physically rid himself of the thought. “He treats people like shit. Always has. He walks around like the world owes him something for the family name he was born into. I don’t care how tragic his little story is; his dad screwing over ours, his mom pretending to be sweet, he’s just as rotten.” 

The silence stretches again, heavy with unspoken fears and the slow bloom of something darker. “He’s sick for doing that in a church,” Taehyun mutters, his voice low and hard. “And then threatening you about it? He’s lucky it was you who saw him and not me.” You glance at him then, at the way his jaw clenches, his hands balled into fists against his thighs. It should comfort you, the fierceness in him, the way he leaps to your defense without question. But instead, it only deepens the ache inside you. Because no matter how wrong it is, no matter how much your brother’s fury burns bright and righteous, there’s a whisper in the back of your mind that still wonders what it is about Jay Park that makes your heart stutter like that.

“I won’t talk to him,” you say quietly, more to convince yourself than him. “Good,” Taehyun says, looking over at you. “Because that boy doesn’t just bring trouble. He is trouble.” And yet even as the stars blink overhead and the pool water laps gently against tile, you feel the echo of Jay’s voice coil around your spine like smoke. You know what you saw. And worse; you know what you felt. You tuck your head against your knees and close your eyes, wishing the night could swallow the memory whole. But some things, once seen, never go quiet again. 

The house is still, cloaked in the velvety hush of after-hours, when dreams drip slow like honey and silence wraps around the walls like an old lover. The moon hangs low outside your window, its pale light slanting across your bedroom floor like an invitation, or a warning. You wake to something — not a dream, no — but the low hum of voices bleeding through the stillness, muffled and sharp, like the scrape of metal under cloth. Your breath catches. You sit up slowly, ears straining. The clock beside your bed reads just past three. The voices murmur again. 

You slip out of bed on bare feet, the cold floor biting against your skin as you tiptoe to the door. The hallway yawns long and dark before you, stretched like a corridor in some haunted chapel, the air thicker here, like it's been keeping secrets of its own. You hold your breath and follow the murmurs, each step soft, careful, barely there. The kitchen glows faintly ahead. dim yellow light spilling out like spilled whiskey beneath the doorframe. You press yourself to the wall and lean forward just enough to see. Your father stands near the table, sleeves rolled up, a glass untouched by his hand. Taehyun leans against the counter, arms crossed, face grim, eyes flickering toward two men you’ve never seen before, older, stern, the kind of men who carry weight without needing to raise their voices. They speak in hushed tones, but the tension rides every syllable, thick and bitter. 

“…can’t let them find out we’re disturbing their shipments,” one of the men says, low and urgent. “If Chul gets wind of it, he’ll burn this town down to find the leak.” Your heart jolts. Shipments? Leak? “They already suspect something,” the second man adds, fingers drumming against the table like a metronome counting down to disaster. “That little punk, Jay, he robbed one of our guys. Sent a message. You know what that means.” 

Your father’s face is carved from stone. “Of course I do.” Your stomach twists. Jay. “He’s getting reckless,” the man continues. “Acting like he’s untouchable. We don’t deal with people like that.” 

Taehyun’s voice is calm, but edged like a blade honed too long. “He can try,” he mutters. “If he comes near our side again, I’ll handle it.” Your blood runs cold. There’s no hesitation in his tone, only the promise of violence. Your hand flies to your mouth, breath trembling through your fingers. The room spins slightly, your body suddenly too small, too quiet for the weight of what you've just heard. The world feels different now, fractured. You’d known there were histories buried beneath this town, old grudges and whispered deals that had sunk roots deeper than the oak trees. But this — this was something else.

They weren’t just rivals. They were at war. And Jay, whatever he was to you, whatever strange heat curled around your being when you thought of him, was in the center of it. 

You back away from the doorway, heart racing, afraid they’ll hear the thunder of it. You scurry down the hallway like a ghost retracing its steps, back into the sanctuary of your room where shadows feel safer than light. You close the door with trembling hands and slide down the back of it, sinking to the floor. Your mind echoes with voices; dangerous, sharp-edged voices and Jay’s name spinning like a coin tossed too high. Sleep does not find you again that night. Only questions. And fear. 

The morning slips in on golden threads, soft and unassuming, the kind of light that warms the wooden floorboards and dapples the countertops in sleepy patches. You haven’t said a word about what you heard the night before those heavy truths folded into the silence between heartbeats but they thrum beneath your skin like a second pulse. Still, when your mother calls you down the hallway, brisk and bright, you answer as if nothing inside you has changed. “Put on something nice,” she says, her voice already trailing off into the kitchen. “We’re heading to the bake sale. Church is raising funds for that wedding coming up. Sohiya and Heeseung, bless them.” 

You pause with your hand on the stair rail, her words wrapping around your throat like ivy. Sohiya. She was your age, sweet and soft-spoken, with delicate wrists and laughter like wind chimes. And Heeseung, kind-eyed and quiet, the type who always held the door open and bowed his head when he prayed. The idea of them marrying, so young, so sudden, presses strangely on your chest. You dress in silence, the pastel linen of your skirt swishing against your legs like a lullaby as you smooth your hair, your reflection half-faded in the antique mirror on your wall. Outside, the town is already stirring, the sleepy streets of your village slowly waking, touched by the scent of sugar and cinnamon wafting through the breeze. 

At the town square, white tents have been strung with bunting, and tables bow beneath the weight of confections, pies with latticed crusts, sugar cookies shaped like doves, and cupcakes topped with icing roses that seem too delicate to eat. The air hums with the soft murmur of neighbors, laughter bubbling here and there like springwater. It is all so pleasant, so falsely perfect, like a painting trying to forget the shadows in its corners. You spot Yunah by the jam stall, her dark braid swinging as she waves you over with a grin, her mother deep in conversation with someone about flour prices and wedding favors. As soon as you reach her, she grabs your arm and leans in, eyes glinting with mischief. 

“Have you heard?” she whispers, the kind of tone that makes your stomach drop before you even know why. “Sohiya’s pregnant. That’s why the wedding’s so rushed.” Your brows lift in quiet shock. Yunah nods, savoring your reaction like a bite of forbidden cake. “I heard it from my cousin who heard it from Eunju, who heard it from her older sister. Her parents found out last week and demanded the wedding happen before anyone else starts talking.” 

You glance across the bake sale and find Sohiya near the lemonade stand, her hands wringing the hem of her blouse, Heeseung standing beside her like a ghost, present, but hollow. She looks tired, like someone who’s been carrying a secret too long, her smile wilting at the edges every time someone congratulates her. Your heart aches in the quiet way only girlhood understands. You’re the same age. You’ve braided your hair the same, sat in the same church pews, hummed the same hymns. But now she’s stepping into a life that feels ten years too soon. A house. A husband. A child. 

“I couldn’t imagine,” you murmur, voice soft and low, “being married right now.” Yunah shrugs, biting into a shortbread cookie. “You and me both. But you know how this town is. A scandal like that?” She shakes her head. “It’s either a wedding or exile.” You nod slowly, eyes lingering on Sohiya, on the way she keeps glancing over her shoulder like the whispers might catch up to her. The same way you feel the breath of last night’s secrets still clinging to yours. Beneath the sugar and sunlight, the square feels brittle. Like one wrong word could make it all shatter. 

It happens suddenly, like thunder splitting the hush of an approaching storm. One moment you’re nibbling on a vanilla cupcake and nodding along as Yunah whispers about scandalous bridal fittings and strict seamstresses, and the next, the air warps; sharp, brittle, buzzing like a struck wire. The shift is instant, the kind of moment that bends the bones of a quiet afternoon and sets hearts galloping. You hear it first; a voice, sharp and raw with fury. Then the low, sickening thud of someone being shoved against a wall.

Your head snaps toward the commotion, and the whole bake sale ripples with the echo of gasps and stilled conversations. Tables tremble, frosting smears, and parents clutch their children a little closer. Near the corner of the community center, just beneath the old iron sconce where flyers for choir practice flutter weakly, Jay is pinned; pressed against sun-warmed brick by another boy, taller, angrier, eyes gleaming with betrayal. It’s Felix. You know him. Sweet-talking, easy-laughing Felix who works at the town’s little mechanic shop and always smells like motor oil and mint gum. His voice is raised now, ragged and venomous. 

“You fucked my girlfriend, you sick bastard!” he roars, his arm slamming across Jay’s chest, voice loud enough to slice through every inch of sugar-sweet air. Yumi is there too, her mascara running like rivers down her cheeks, her hands fluttering uselessly in front of her as she pleads with Felix, voice breaking like porcelain in her throat. “It wasn’t like that, please,” she cries, grabbing at his arm. “Please, stop. It was a mistake — he didn’t mean—” 

But Jay only stands there, infuriatingly calm. There’s a half-lidded smirk painted across his lips, smug and gleaming like polished obsidian. “Relax, Felix,” he drawls, voice thick with venom-laced honey. “I didn’t know she was yours. She didn’t exactly say no.” The words are a match. Felix snaps. His fist connects with Jay’s jaw in a brutal arc, a punch that sounds like thunder cracking bone. Gasps scatter like doves taking flight. Yumi shrieks, and a cupcake tray crashes to the ground somewhere nearby, frosting splattering like a pink and white wound. 

Jay stumbles back from the blow, hand flying to his cheek but then he laughs. Actually laughs, a low, taunting sound, wild and cruel and so full of gall it steals the breath from your lungs. “You hit like a fucking choir boy,” he spits, blood blooming on his lower lip like a rose in ruin. People rush in, pastors, parents, volunteers with gloved hands and worried brows pulling Felix back, dragging Jay away, trying to stitch dignity back into the seams of a moment too far undone. 

The crowd swells, then parts. Jay is being hauled out by a man in a navy windbreaker and a church elder with trembling hands. But even bruised, even bleeding, Jay looks untouchable; smirking like he owns the goddamn town. And then he sees you. Eyes dark as ink, wild with something you can’t name. He meets your gaze across the chaos, across the bodies and ruined cakes and shattered calm. He winks. It’s slow. Intentional. And it sets your spine on fire. You forget how to breathe. He disappears into the crowd, the echo of that wink burning behind your eyes like the sun. 

Your heart is still galloping when the crowd begins to settle, when the ripples of scandal soften into murmurs and murmurs dissolve into sugared distractions. Parents usher children away with tight smiles and tighter hands, as if sweetness could scrub away the memory of fists and curses. Jay is gone, at least from sight. But not from your mind. “You know,” Yunah says beside you, folding her arms, her voice sharpened with knowing, “he’s no good. Just trouble in designer clothes.”

You nod, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. What you’re expected to believe. What every decent girl in this village is raised to fear. But inside you, curiosity blooms like a slow-burning match, small and dangerous. You mumble something about needing the bathroom and excuse yourself before she can press further, her eyes already narrowing in suspicion. The church looms behind you as you slip away, its whitewashed walls glowing warm in the early afternoon light, the air thick with the scent of sun-baked frosting and wilted roses. But beneath it — just barely, you catch another scent. Smoke. Acrid, earthy, wrong. 

You follow it. Each step feels reckless, like dancing barefoot on a chapel floor. Like carving your name into a hymnbook. The scent grows stronger as you round the corner of the church, your breath catching in your throat like a moth in a jar. And there he is. Jay.

He leans against the wall like he was born to break rules and balance on the edge of forgiveness. One foot propped behind him, head tilted back, the collar of his shirt loosened and stained with a drop of blood near the seam. His cigarette glows like an ember in the low light, the curl of smoke rising from it like a ghost ascending. He doesn’t look surprised to see you. In fact, he barely even glances your way. Just takes a drag, exhales slow, like the chaos he caused hasn’t even nicked his soul. Like the fight, the punch, the girl, the whispers, none of it mattered. 

“Didn’t think you’d come looking,” he says finally, voice low, almost bored. But there’s a thread of something else underneath; taunt or tease, you can’t tell. “You don’t seem the type.”  You should leave. You should turn around, march back to the bake sale, and pretend you never followed smoke down a church wall. But your feet stay planted, heart hammering as loud as the chapel bells. You don’t say a word. You just watch him, silently, like he’s a puzzle carved from shadow and sin and the ache of wanting something you know you shouldn’t. 

Jay flicks ash onto the gravel path, his eyes cutting toward you through the smoke, one brow raised lazily. His lip is split, a bloom of red painting the edge of his smirk. “You see something you like?” he asks. And for one terrible, breathless moment you don’t know the answer. The question drips from his mouth like smoke, slow, curling, coaxing. Not crude, not exactly. But not innocent, either. It lands somewhere in the charged space between your ribs and your throat, where breath gets tangled with hesitation.

You should scoff. Roll your eyes. Offer him the same disdain he so casually invites from the world. But you don’t. Because there’s something about the way he looks at you; like you’re not just another girl in a white dress and soft shoes, but someone he sees through, into. Like he knows your name and the weight it carries. Knows the walls you live behind, and the cracks that run silent and deep beneath your polished smile. You step closer without meaning to, arms crossed loosely, trying to look like the kind of girl who doesn’t care what boys like him say. But your voice comes softer than you mean for it to. “I didn’t come looking for you.” 

Jay chuckles, low and dark, like gravel skimming the bottom of a stream. He doesn’t believe you. That much is clear. He drops the cigarette to the dirt and grinds it out with the heel of his boot, the smoke hissing away like a secret being silenced. “No?” he says, stepping just slightly forward, head tilted. “Then why are you here, church girl?” You flinch a little at the nickname. It’s not mean. But there’s weight in it. A reminder of everything you’re supposed to be. Everything he isn’t. 

“I heard… noise,” you mumble, eyes darting away, to the cracked siding of the church wall. “From earlier. I just… I wanted to see if you were okay.” Jay scoffs this time, straightens, stretches the muscles in his shoulders like a wolf rising from slumber. “You mean after I got punched for screwing some girl who cried over it?” 

He says it like it doesn’t matter. Like he doesn’t matter. Like none of it, the punch, the drama, the girl, was anything more than a flicker in the dark. And still, the wound at the edge of his lip glistens like it wants to be noticed. You hesitate, then speak quietly. “That was cruel. What you did.” 

He watches you now, like your words are more interesting than they have any right to be. “Probably,” he agrees, not flinching. “But she knew what it was. I’m not the one playing pretend.” The words settle over you like dust, heavy and old and aching. You want to hate him. You really, truly do. You want to believe he’s everything your father says, that he’s rotten at the root, grown from betrayal and greed and the same sharp-edged steel his father used to cut yours down. 

But he looks at you then, and there’s something in his expression, not smugness, not bravado; but something rawer. Wearier. Like he’s been fighting a war so long he’s forgotten what peace feels like. You find your voice again, softer now. “Why do you act like this?” Jay blinks slowly, like you’ve asked him a question no one’s ever dared to. Then, in a voice barely louder than a confession, he says, “Because people already made up their minds about me a long time ago. Figured I might as well give them what they want.” It slices through the silence like a nail through silk.

You swallow, the wind tugging at your skirt, the chapel bells tolling in the distance; calling the faithful back inside, as if to protect them from boys like him and girls like you who linger too long in the gray. Jay takes a step back, pulling another cigarette from the pocket of his jacket, but he doesn’t light it. Just rolls it between his fingers like a habit he hasn’t learned how to quit. “Run along now,” he mutters, eyes dark. “Before your daddy comes lookin’. Wouldn’t want you shipped off to a convent, would we?”

And this time, when he smirks, there’s no cruelty in it. Just something almost sad. You hesitate one more breath, just one, before turning, your footsteps light on the gravel, your heart anything but. But as you leave, you can feel his gaze still on your back. Burning. Etching your outline into his memory like a prayer he’ll never speak. 

You scurry back around the side of the church, fingers fumbling with the hem of your dress, your breath still tinged with the ghost of smoke. The sun presses down hard now, warm and high in the sky, yet you feel cold beneath your skin, as though the truth of that boy has left a frostbite behind, unseen but pulsing. The bake sale has resumed its sugary rhythm, laughter bubbling from ladies with sunhats and teenagers handing out lemonade like the world isn’t slowly unraveling around you. As if it’s all sweet and simple, and boys like Jay Park don’t burn holes in the script you were meant to follow.

Yunah finds you with a look that speaks volumes, one brow raised, lips pursed slightly like she already knows you’ve done something that would make your parents spit their tea. She doesn’t say anything, though. Just hands you a paper plate with a melting brownie on it and raises her eyes toward the sky like she’s giving you a silent prayer. You offer a small, guilty smile and fall in step beside her. But your thoughts are no longer here. They wander, wild and unbidden, to the shadows of last night. 

To your bare feet on the cold wood floor, the whisper of your nightgown brushing your ankles. The hush of the house heavy around you as you crept down the hallway, drawn like a moth to the faint hum of voices in the kitchen. You hadn’t meant to listen. But once you’d heard, you couldn’t unhear it. The names, the threats, the implication that beneath all this civility was something far darker. Something like war. “We can’t let them find out we’re disturbing their shipments.” — “That little punk Jay needs to be dealt with.” — “He can try,” Taehyun had said, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard it, like a blade honed under moonlight.

Your father, standing there like a general. Cold. Unmoving. He hadn’t even flinched at the suggestion of retaliation. Of vengeance. You hadn’t wanted to believe it, but there it was, your family wasn’t just at odds with the Parks over pride and betrayal. There were stakes hidden deeper than Sunday sermons and fake smiles at bake sales. Stakes that bled and burned. Stakes that made boys disappear and fathers never come home. Jay. A name spoken like venom in your house, a boy your father swore was born from rot and ruin. A boy who had dared to look at you today with something that felt like a challenge. Or a warning.

Your fingers tighten around the paper plate in your hands, the brownie trembling on the wax paper like it knows it doesn’t belong in your grip. You don’t belong here, either. Not really. Not with your head full of cigarette smoke and secrets. Yunah is saying something beside you, but the words slip past like water on stone. You nod when you’re supposed to. Smile when expected. But inside? Inside, you’re still standing at the edge of that hallway, hearing the words that changed everything. Inside, you’re still by that church wall, staring into the eyes of the boy your father would rather see buried than anywhere near you. And worse than all of it is the ache that curls low in your belly because you don’t know if you’re scared of Jay… or of how much you want to understand him. 

That night, the air in the house is thick with something unsaid. Like storm clouds gathering just out of sight, grumbling low and slow in the distance. The walls creak with old secrets and the whispers of generations past, all of them watching, waiting. You lie in bed, the covers tangled around your legs, staring up at the ceiling where the shadows stretch like spiderwebs. But sleep doesn’t come. Not when your mind is still caught in that kitchen, when you still hear your father’s voice like thunder and Taehyun’s like flint striking stone. 

The question gnaws at you, small and sharp and relentless: what did they mean? What are they doing, what is Jay tangled in that your family feels the need to speak of him like a threat, like a ghost they can’t quite kill? So you get up. The floorboards are cold under your feet, the hallway dim save for the light spilling beneath Taehyun’s door, a golden sliver cutting the dark. You hover there for a second, unsure, your hand paused mid-air. Then you knock gently, once, twice. 

“It’s open,” his voice calls out, slightly muffled. You step in and find him hunched over his desk, textbooks spread like wings, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looks up at you, blinking like he’s surfacing from underwater. “What’s up?” he asks, the corner of his mouth lifting just barely. “Don’t tell me you need help with trig again.” 

You close the door softly behind you and step further into the room, suddenly unsure how to phrase what’s been burning in your chest for the past twenty-four hours. So you just say it, straight and small:

“I heard you. Last night. You and Dad.” His entire body stiffens like wire pulled taut. He leans back in his chair, pen dropping from his fingers as his face darkens with something between disappointment and dread. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he says, his voice low, more exhale than sound. “Conversations like that aren’t meant for young girls.” 

You bristle. “I’m only a year younger than you.” He gives you a look, half warning, half weary affection. “And that year makes a difference.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” you insist, crossing your arms. “I’m not a child, Taehyun.” He sighs and runs a hand through his damp hair, frustration flashing across his face like lightning. “You think being an adult is about age? It’s about what you’re ready to carry. And you’re not ready for this.”

“Then help me understand.” Your voice is soft but steady. “Help me understand why everyone talks about Jay like he’s poison. Like he’s something to be eliminated.” The name slips out before you can stop it. Jay. A matchstick against stone.

Taehyun’s eyes narrow. “Why do you care?” 

“I don’t —” you start, but the lie tastes bitter. He stands abruptly, the chair legs scraping against the hardwood. “You do care. Don’t lie to me.” 

You look away, your heart pounding like it wants out of your chest. “I saw him today,” you admit. “At the bake sale. We didn’t talk long. I just —” 

“You talked to him?” Taehyun’s voice cracks like a whip. “Are you out of your mind?” 

“He didn’t hurt me—” You started. 

“That’s not the point,” he snaps. “You don’t know what kind of shit he’s involved in. What his family is capable of. This isn’t some schoolyard rivalry, alright? This is blood and business. He’s dangerous.” 

“You don’t get to tell me who to talk to,” you hiss, your hands trembling. “You’re not the boss of me.” His jaw clenches so tight you swear you hear it grind. “Actually,” he says slowly, icily, “I am. Until you know better, I am.”

That does it. The fury rises in you like a storm tide. You don’t shout. You don’t cry. You just spin on your heel and stalk out of his room, your footsteps like gunshots down the hallway. Behind you, Taehyun doesn’t follow. He just lets the door click shut between you. And you, you retreat to your room with your chest heaving and your thoughts in shambles, torn between the brother who wants to protect you and the boy who might just ruin you.

But wasn’t that what drew you in the first place? Not the danger.The possibility. The proof that something — someone could make you feel something real, even if it burned.

The bell above the shop door tinkles faintly as you step out into the embrace of night. Mrs. Chen waves at you from behind the counter, her fingers still dancing with a needle and thread as the lamplight paints golden halos around her silver hair. You smile, small and tired, the weight of the day settling in your bones, and close the door behind you. The sky outside is bruised with twilight, bleeding violet and blue as the sun disappears behind the hills that cradle your little town. The street lamps blink on one by one, flickering like hesitant stars, and the cobbled road that winds through the town glows amber in the gathering dark. 

You wrap your shawl a little tighter around your shoulders, feeling the press of the cool evening air against your skin. The walk home isn’t far, just fifteen minutes down roads you’ve known since childhood, roads that smell of lilac and woodsmoke and safety. Roads that always, always felt like home. But tonight, something feels different. It begins as a whisper at the base of your neck. That sense; not quite sound, not quite sight but the ancient, instinctual knowledge that you are no longer alone. Your footsteps echo a beat behind yours, too steady to be wind, too light to be mere imagination. 

You glance back. A man. Far enough that he could still be a coincidence, close enough that your pulse begins to drum faster. You turn onto a narrower lane, hoping to lose him in the winding streets, past Mrs. Lee’s bakery now shuttered for the night, past the small chapel with its bowed iron gates and flickering candles in the windows. Your footsteps quicken. So do his. You try to convince yourself it’s nothing; just a late walker, a neighbor maybe, but your hands are starting to shake. Then you hear it. 

The scrape of shoe leather quickening. The sound of breath, heavy, sharp, close. Panic surges like a tide inside you. You break into a run, your feet pounding the pavement, your breath catching in your throat, heart clawing at your ribs like a wild animal. But you don’t get far. A hand slams over your mouth. Another arm snakes around your waist, yanking you back so fast your heels lift off the ground. You try to scream, but your voice is strangled by a palm that tastes of sweat and cigarettes, of something sickly and metallic. The world tilts. You’re dragged, stumbling, into the shadows of an alley.

The narrow passage smells of rust and rot, wet stone and old things. Your feet scrape against gravel, your knees buckle, and still he drags you like you’re nothing more than a sack of flour. “Shhh,” he hisses into your ear, breath hot and rank, “make a sound and I swear to God—” But you’re fighting now, kicking, flailing, desperate not to disappear into the black corners of this town like a ghost no one will remember. Your mind reels. You think of Taehyun. Of your mother’s soft hands. Of Jay’s cigarette smoke curling like a warning. You think: not like this. Not like this.

You are a wild thing now, thrashing and clawing like some animal pulled too soon from the womb of safety, a fledgling bird tossed mid-air and told to fly. His arm is like iron around your chest, squeezing until breath is no longer breath but gasps made of salt and fear. You kick. You scream. The sound doesn’t even sound like you, it's raw, primal, jagged like broken glass tearing up your throat. Then instinct, burning desperate inside your veins, you sink your teeth into his hand. Hard. Hard enough to feel flesh give, to taste copper and skin and filth. He howls, a sound not quite human, and in the next heartbeat, his hand rears back and strikes your cheek with such force that the world spins. White-hot pain blossoms beneath your eye like a cruel flower, petals blooming in shades of red and violet.  

You fall. Hard. The gravel bites into your palms, your knees scream, but nothing compares to the kick to your stomach that follows. A boot, sharp and merciless, lands right where your breath lives. It punches the air from your lungs and leaves you folded on the earth like a broken prayer, stars exploding behind your eyes, nausea clawing up your throat. He’s above you now, shadowed and snarling, and there’s a moment, a single, stretched-out beat of time, where you wonder if this is how the story ends. A foot raised. The night around you holding its breath. Your body too stunned to move. 

Then it happens. A blur. A sound like thunder colliding with flesh. The man is ripped away from you in an instant, tackled to the ground with such force that the cobblestones rattle. You hear the grunt of fists meeting ribs, the dull wet thud of a punch, another, another, bone against bone, like a drumbeat played by fury. Jay. He’s on top of him now, all sinew and violence, his face carved in rage, lips peeled back like a wolf in the final act of warning. His fists fly like they’ve waited their whole life for this moment, no technique, just raw, vicious instinct. The man beneath him sputters, tries to buck him off, but Jay is unrelenting. There’s blood, somewhere, someone’s and it paints Jay’s knuckles like war paint. 

“Touch her again,” he growls low, venom slithering through each syllable, “and I’ll make sure you never touch anything again.” He says it not like a threat, but like a promise carved in stone. You can’t move. You can barely breathe. You're crumpled on the cold ground, blinking through pain and fear and disbelief. But through the haze, you watch Jay stand, chest heaving, jaw clenched, the man groaning at his feet like something discarded. But Jay doesn’t stop. 

His knuckles keep rising and falling like thunder crashing on a cursed shoreline, relentless, wild, each blow drawn from something deeper than fury, a darkness that lives in his marrow, in the cracks behind his eyes. The man beneath him is coughing now, spitting blood between laughter, a cruel, rasping sound that haunts the alley like a specter. And Jay, jaw set like a guillotine, grabs the man by the collar, shoving him harder against the wall, until the bricks groan and dust spills like ash. “Who sent you?” Jay spits, voice sharp enough to cut air. “Who do you work for?” The man just chuckles, a hideous, broken sound leaking out of a bruised throat. His lip splits wider with every word, but still he smirks like a man with nothing left to lose. 

“You think I’d ever tell you?” he sneers, coughing through blood. “You’re just a kid playing gangster.” Jay growls low in his throat, an animal sound, and the next punch lands with such weight it echoes. The man gasps. You flinch. The wind shifts and carries the scent of blood and cigarette smoke into your lungs like smoke from a funeral pyre. 

You push yourself up, your limbs trembling, bones whispering protest. Pain blooms in your side where his boot struck, your face throbs, but still you crawl forward, palms scraping against gravel and broken glass. You reach them. Jay’s crouched like a storm about to strike, the man limp but still smirking like he knows some secret that Jay doesn’t. “Stop,” you say, voice hoarse, barely a whisper, like something stitched together with threadbare breath. “Jay, stop. You’re going to kill him.”

He doesn’t even look at you at first. His eyes are locked on the man, flame-red and feral, his chest rising and falling like the sea before it devours a ship. Then slowly, he turns, and there's something broken in his face, something wild and bitter and unspoken. “Good,” he says, teeth gritted like steel on steel. “He deserves to die.” The words fall heavy in the dark, sharp as glass in a chalice. You reach out, your fingers barely grazing his shoulder and shake your head, a tremble chasing the motion. “Please,” you whisper, not sure if you’re begging for the man’s life or for Jay’s humanity to return. “Please… just stop.”

He breathes in hard. For a moment, the silence stretches too long, pregnant with violence and decision. But then something flickers behind his eyes, a light sputtering back to life, weak and shaking, but there. Jay lets go. The man crumples to the ground, groaning, blood trailing from his mouth like ink from a broken pen. He stares at Jay, equal parts terrified and awed, and then stumbles to his feet, sways like a drunk ghost, and bolts into the dark alley without another word, just the sound of his heels slapping pavement like a heartbeat fleeing death. The world is quiet again. But not peaceful.

Jay turns to you, breath ragged, hands stained red. His jaw twitches as if he’s trying to say something, but the words dissolve before they can take form. He just steps forward, closing the space between you and reaches down, hand outstretched. “Come on,” he says, voice quieter now, softer, not sharp enough to cut but still trembling from what it almost became. You stare at his hand for a moment, at the boy who just fought like a monster to save you. And then, with shaking fingers, you let him pull you up from the wreckage. 

He looks at your face, and something flickers in those storm-dark eyes of his; something close to concern, but too buried beneath bravado to fully surface. His fingers ghost the edge of your jawline, not quite touching but close enough to feel like lightning waiting for the right tree. He tilts your chin ever so slightly, examining the swelling beneath your cheekbone with an expression that makes your stomach twist. “That’s going to bruise,” he mutters, voice low and sandpaper-rough. You nod, slowly, wincing as the movement stirs pain. “Why did you help me?” 

The question hangs in the cool night air like incense in a chapel, sweet, uncertain, sacred. He shrugs, a movement so nonchalant it’s maddening. Like he hadn’t just saved your life. Like the blood on his knuckles wasn’t still drying into his skin. “I don’t know,” he says, eyes flickering away like they don’t owe you the truth.

You stand there, aching and trembling and furious at the way your heart stutters beneath your ribs. You should be scared. You should be disgusted, shaken to the bone from the violence, from the pain still blooming like a bruise across your ribs. But all you can feel is warmth curling in the pit of your stomach, uninvited and undeniable. “Thank you,” you whisper, unsure if it’s gratitude or confession. 

“Don’t,” he says sharply, cutting his gaze back to yours. “Don’t thank me.” His tone is firm, but not cruel. It’s the sound of someone who doesn’t want to be a hero, who’s been told too many times that he doesn’t deserve kindness. And maybe he believes it. Maybe that’s why he can’t take your thanks, because it tastes too much like absolution. He glances down the road, toward the dim golden lights of town, and then back at you. “I’ll walk you home.”

You hesitate. “You don’t have to—”

“I’m not asking,” he cuts in, already moving. So you fall into step beside him, the silence between you stretching long and strange. Your body aches with every step, and yet you feel like you’re floating, disconnected, dazed, and tethered only by the steady rhythm of Jay beside you. Like gravity shifted the moment he touched you, and now you orbit around him whether you want to or not. When your house comes into view, a knot tightens in your chest. The porch light is still on, like an accusation. You can already imagine your father’s face, already hear the questions wrapped in thunder and expectation. Jay stops at the edge of the walkway, still cloaked in night. 

“When your father asks,” he says, voice low, “don’t tell him I helped you.” 

You blink. “What?” He looks at you, unreadable. “Make up a lie. Say you fell or something. Just don’t bring me into it.” 

There’s no warmth in his voice, no smile, not even the smirk you’ve come to expect from him. Just a quiet, raw kind of resolve, like he’s asking you to keep a secret that might burn you both if it ever saw daylight. You nod. “Okay.” Jay lingers for a moment, as if he wants to say something more, like maybe this night changed something in him, too. But whatever it is, he swallows it down and turns away without another word. 

You watch him go, his silhouette swallowed by the dark, and then you push open the door and step into the light of your home, where lies are stitched as easily as hems and truth is just another thing buried beneath silence. The bruise blooms like a purple flower across your cheekbone. The door clicks shut behind you with the hush of finality, as if the night itself is sealing the pages of its most brutal chapter. But there is no rest in this kind of silence, only the jagged inhale of your mother’s gasp as she turns from the hallway and sees your face under the dim foyer light. 

Her slippers skid against the wood as she rushes to you, hands fluttering like frantic birds, afraid to touch, afraid not to. “Oh my god — what happened? What happened to your face?” Her voice is thin, stretched like silk pulled too tight. You flinch as she brushes your cheek with trembling fingers, and just like that, the whole house stirs. Taehyun barrels in from the kitchen, his voice already rising. “What the hell happened?” 

Your father follows in his shadow, his presence larger than the room, chest puffed with immediate anger and the bitter scent of panic barely masked beneath the cologne he always wears. “Who did this to you?” The world tilts slightly as all eyes converge on you, their questions digging at your skin like teeth. You open your mouth and close it again, suddenly aware of how fragile the truth is, how it quivers in your throat, aching to be spoken but dangerous to free. 

So you breathe in, steady and slow, and choose the half-lie with the cleanest edges. “I was walking home from Mrs. Chen’s,” you begin, voice carefully pitched between tremble and calm. “There was a man… I didn’t recognize him. He followed me, grabbed me. I fought back. I bit his hand. He hit me, but then —” You hesitate, careful not to look in the direction of the window, of the dark where Jay had disappeared only moments before. “He must’ve gotten spooked. He ran off. I don’t know why.” You lower your gaze as the lie coils around your tongue, heavy and sour, but necessary. 

Your father’s fists curl at his sides, his jaw set so tight you wonder if he’ll ever speak again. “A man did this to you?” he growls, like the words themselves are fire in his throat. “He laid hands on you?” Taehyun mutters a curse and kicks the wall, hard. The sound cracks through the air like lightning, loud enough to make Minji stir upstairs. Your mother’s hand moves from your cheek to your arm, guiding you to the couch with the reverence of someone handling broken porcelain. She’s whispering something now, prayers, you think. Or maybe just the names of every saint she knows. 

“I’ll find him,” your father says, voice flat and cold. “I don’t care if I have to turn over every damn rock in this town.” 

“Dad —” you start, but he’s already storming toward the back office, barking orders to no one and everyone at once, a storm given form and fury. Taehyun sits beside you, anger still rolling off of him like heat. He watches you with eyes too sharp, too knowing. “Did you really not see who it was?”

You shake your head, slowly. “It was dark. It happened fast.” He exhales through his nose, not convinced but not ready to argue. “I’ll walk you from now on,” he says. “No more being out late by yourself.” You nod, grateful and guilty all at once, because what you’ve said isn’t the truth, but neither is it a lie that came easily. And somewhere, in the places they cannot see, your body still carries the memory of Jay’s arms, of his rage not directed at you, of the unspoken promise that lived briefly between the blood and bruises. You fold your hands in your lap and lower your eyes, letting your family whirl around you with worry and vengeance and vow. And inside, you tuck your secret into the hollow behind your ribs, where all your dangerous truths now live. 

The church bells toll in the morning like an old warning, iron-voiced and hollow, their echoes slipping through the mist that clings to the town’s narrow streets. You walk beside your family in silence, each step heavier than the last, as though shame itself has taken root in your heels. The church rises before you in its usual whitewashed sanctimony, but today it feels more like a stage and you, unwilling, have become the play. You step inside, and instantly, the weight of a hundred unspoken things crashes over you. The air is perfumed with lilies and incense, but beneath it, there's the acrid tang of gossip, hushed tones curled behind cupped hands, eyes flickering like candle flames in your direction. You feel them long before you see them: judgmental, narrow gazes that prick against your skin like nettles. Their stares are veiled in piety, but you know better. You've been raised in a house of wolves pretending to pray. 

“They say her daddy’s sins are catching up with him.”

“She was always going to be a target with a name like his.”

“Poor thing — pretty won’t protect you from retribution.”

You don’t hear the words exactly, but they ripple through the wooden pews like ghosts, rising and falling with the organ's song, threading themselves between hymns and halfhearted smiles. It’s in the way they glance at the bruise blooming on your cheek like a crushed violet, in the silence that stretches too long when you pass, in the pity dressed up like politeness. You lower your head, eyes fixed on your polished shoes, hands clasped demurely in front of you, but your pulse hammers in your ears. You don’t dare look around. You don’t need to. You can feel the weight of it all pressing down on you like a stone in your chest. The truth you swallowed last night has soured in your gut, bitter as wormwood. 

And then, you feel it. A gaze unlike the others. Heavy, direct. You look up instinctively and your eyes lock with Park Chul; Jay’s father. He is sitting two rows ahead with his family gathered close, looking too much like a king among snakes, his tailored suit flawless, his posture regal, and his smile; oh, that smile, it slithers across his face like oil on water. It doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s nothing warm there. Just calculation. Recognition. He sees the bruise. He knows what you’ve left out. The smile he offers you is slow, like a blade being drawn from its sheath.

You blink once and look away, your heart suddenly loud in your ribs. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the pew as you sit down beside your mother, who is already lost in prayer. Your father doesn’t notice, he’s too busy glaring across the aisle at Chul, his disdain worn proudly like a second suit. Jay is there, too, seated beside his sister and looking maddeningly unaffected. He doesn’t look at you. Not at first. But as the choir begins to sing and the congregation rises, you catch it, just the flick of his eyes toward yours, the shadow of a smirk tugging at his lips before he turns his head away like nothing ever happened. 

You stand, too, murmuring the first verse of the hymn without really hearing it, the sound a dull hum in your ears. And even though your lips are moving, your mind is far from holy things. Because something is shifting. And though you can’t name it yet, can’t shape it into something solid, you know, deep in the marrow of your bones, that the bruise on your face isn’t the last mark this war will leave. The sermon drones on, words thick with dust and self-righteousness, echoing off vaulted ceilings like old warnings written in blood and parchment. You sit in the pew like a ghost in borrowed skin, present in body but floating elsewhere. The preacher’s voice is meant to be comforting, commanding, divine, but today it’s just noise, a hum beneath the cold stares and whispered rumors still clinging to you like static.

Another glance. Another hushed voice behind a lace-gloved hand. You feel it before you see it, someone’s eyes skating down the bruise along your cheek like it’s a badge you chose to wear, like you’re not already burning beneath their judgment. Your heartbeat climbs, fluttering in your chest like a caged moth. The walls feel too close, the pews too narrow. You can’t breathe. You rise, a breath of movement in a still room, and excuse yourself softly. Your mother doesn’t look up. Your father is lost in thought, your brother staring ahead like he might kill a man with his eyes. You slip out the heavy doors like a shadow, letting the sun kiss your skin again, warmth meeting chill. Outside, the world is quieter. Calmer. Honest. 

The church steps are cool beneath you, stone soaked in centuries of rain and repentance. You hug your knees to your chest, resting your chin atop them, and try to slow your breathing. The air carries the faint scent of roses from the cemetery down the hill, and further still, the faintest trace of last night’s terror still lingers behind your ribs. Footsteps behind you, Soft but certain. Crunching gravel. You whip around, heart climbing into your throat. But it’s only Jay. Only. 

He stands a moment, watching you with that unreadable expression of his; half smirk, half storm and then lowers himself beside you without a word. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t lean in close. Just sits, legs stretched out in front of him like he owns the steps, the church, the whole damn town. You open your mouth to thank him again, to tell him you haven’t stopped thinking about the way he pulled you up from the darkness like a ghost from the grave, but before you can speak, his voice cuts across the silence. “Don’t,” he says. Not cruel, not cold, just… tired. Like he doesn’t need your gratitude weighing down what he did. Like it was inevitable.

Then, quieter, more tentative: “Are you okay?” Your heart stutters at the question. You nod, slow. “Yeah. I think so.” He scoffs, not at you, but at everything. The town. The church. The bruises on your face and the venom on their tongues. “Fuck what those hypocrites in there think,” he mutters, eyes flicking toward the stained glass windows above. “They’d rather pray for sinners than help them. Would’ve left you bleeding on the street if it meant saving face.” 

A breath of laughter slips from your lips. Not out of humor; more like release. Like someone finally said what your heart couldn’t. And something shifts. The air between you thickens. No longer easy, no longer innocent. It crackles now, like a wire pulled too tight or a sky just before thunder. You turn to him, and he’s already looking at you, really looking, like he sees through the bruises and the silk dress and the good-girl smile you’ve worn like armor for years. Like he sees the fire buried beneath the ashes. And before you can think, before you can flinch, he leans in. 

His mouth is warm and certain on yours, and everything slows. The birdsong quiets. The breeze stills. Your breath catches, trembling in your lungs, and for a moment you forget where you are, who you are, just lips and heat and the wild drumbeat in your ears. It’s your first kiss, and it doesn’t feel gentle or hesitant. It feels like a match struck against stone, sudden and bright and dangerous. He pulls back, just slightly, and his eyes hold yours with something fierce and searching. As though he's not sure what to say, or if he should say anything at all.

And then, with aching softness, he leans in again and places a second kiss on your lips, quieter this time, reverent almost. A kiss like a secret. A kiss like a promise or a threat. You don’t know which. Then he stands.

Doesn’t say goodbye. Doesn’t look back. Just runs a hand through his hair and strides back into the church as if nothing just happened. As if he didn’t just turn your world on its side. And you sit there alone, the stone still cool beneath you, the taste of him still on your mouth, your heart trying to decide if it should beat faster in fear or in longing. And for once, you don’t feel like a girl waiting to be told what to do. You feel like a match still burning. 

You don’t know how long you sit there, still as breath in a cathedral, the stone steps beneath you holding the echo of his kiss like holy ground. The air around you feels different now, touched by something raw and shimmering, like the hush after lightning splits the sky. Your fingers brush your lips, still warm, still tingling, as though they remember him better than your mind dares to. You’re not sure if it’s madness or magic, but whatever it is, it’s lodged in your chest like a second heartbeat, louder than the church bells, steadier than the sermon inside. Eventually, you rise, legs stiff from sitting too long, and drift back into the chapel’s shadow. Inside, the congregation is standing, voices rising in a hymn that scrapes the heavens, all sharp harmony and practiced devotion. You slip into a seat beside Yunah, whose gaze flickers toward you. There’s something unreadable in her eyes, not judgment, not surprise, just knowing. She doesn’t ask, and you don’t tell. Some moments are too fragile for words, too wild to be captured without breaking. 

The service ends, and the tide of townsfolk washes out of the church, trailing perfume and rumors behind them like smoke. Your family is gathered near the front steps, your mother speaking softly to the pastor’s wife, your father speaking not at all, his eyes like twin flints scanning the crowd for any spark of danger. Taehyun stands off to the side, arms crossed, watching Jay with the wary contempt of a guard dog who’s seen the wolf smile. You don’t say anything as you fall into step beside them. Your father reaches for your shoulder like a shield, and you let him, though you feel the ghost of Jay’s touch burning on your skin. The day unfolds like it always does in towns like this, slow and sun-soaked, filled with the scent of pies cooling on windowsills and the soft echo of children’s laughter skipping down cracked sidewalks. But inside you, something is stirring. Something restless and wild and hungry for the unknown.

At home, lunch is quiet. The clink of cutlery against porcelain plates sounds louder than usual. Your father doesn’t ask again about last night, he simply studies you, the way a man might study a cipher he doesn’t like not knowing how to read. Your mother fusses over your bruises with gentle hands and worried eyes, placing a cold compress against your cheek as though she can will the world to be kind with the sheer force of her care. Taehyun is brooding beside you, silent but heavy, like a storm that hasn’t decided whether to stay or roll in angry over the hills. But even with their eyes on you, even with their questions unasked but still hanging in the air like incense, your thoughts are elsewhere. 

You think of the alley. The press of fear. The sharp, unforgiving sting of a slap and the curling pain of a foot against your ribs. You think of the man’s laugh, hollow and fearless, and how Jay’s fists had answered it like judgment. You think of Jay’s eyes, dark as spilled ink, and how they’d searched your face like he didn’t want to miss a single flinch. How he kissed you like he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. You think, absurdly, foolishly of what it would be like to kiss him again. And that thought terrifies you.

Because you shouldn’t want him. You shouldn’t even know him. He is every warning your father ever gave you made flesh. He’s trouble written in bold letters across your stars, a promise of ruin in every glance. But still… you want to read him. You want to open that book and trace every redacted page with trembling fingers. That night, you sit on your bedroom floor, your journal cracked open in your lap like a confession booth. You don’t write his name. You don’t dare. But you write how it felt to be seen. To be saved. To be kissed like the world had stopped spinning for a heartbeat. You write it down not to remember, but to prove to yourself it happened. That it was real.

Outside, the moon hangs low, a silver eye watching you from behind thin clouds. And in the silence, your body aches, not from the bruises or the fear, but from wanting. From wondering. From knowing that something has shifted inside you, and nothing will ever be the same again. You lie back on your bed, staring up at the ceiling as though it might whisper answers to your questions. You close your eyes, but sleep does not come. Only his face. Only that kiss. Only the fire you didn’t know could live in someone like you.

The night presses against the glass like a velvet shroud, moonlight sifting through your curtains in soft, trembling strands. The tapping begins like a whisper too shy to speak, delicate and insistent, a beckoning on the other side of the veil. Your heart jolts, caught between sleep and something more primal; something curious, something afraid. Barefoot and cautious, you cross the cool wooden floor, each step light as breath, each movement threaded with unease. When you pull the curtain aside and see him; Jay, standing beneath your window like some starless phantom, your pulse skitters. He’s bathed in silver, his jaw sharp in the moonlight, a shadow of rebellion scrawled across the lines of his face. His hand lifts, two fingers beckoning you closer, not like a thief in the night but a boy who’s lost and desperate and burning with something too big for words. 

You lift the latch. He climbs in without ceremony, without sound, landing like wind on the floorboards. The air shifts the moment he enters, and suddenly your small, worn bedroom feels like a world away from everything else; everything loud, everything righteous. You barely whisper his name before his hands find your face, cradling it with a hunger that feels like grief and something more dangerous. He kisses you like he’s been drowning since birth and your mouth is the first breath of air he’s ever tasted.

It’s urgent, almost clumsy in its passion; his fingers lost in your hair, your hands curled into the cotton of his shirt, anchoring yourself to something that shouldn’t feel safe but somehow does. He walks you backwards with care disguised as chaos until your knees hit the edge of your bed, and you sit, breathless, dizzy. He follows, mouth never straying too far from yours, until the world disappears around you. But you pull away, gentle but firm, your palms pressed against his chest like a barricade made of hope and confusion. “What are you doing?” you whisper, your voice trembling not from fear, but from the storm gathering beneath your ribs.

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes search your face like he’s looking for absolution in your gaze, something holy to balance the weight of whatever he carries. Finally, he breathes out, low and rough. “I needed to see you.” You sit in that truth for a beat, the quiet humming between your heartbeats. “Is everything okay?”

Jay looks away for the first time. His jaw clenches, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. “No,” he says, simply, honestly. “But it doesn’t matter.” A bitter smile plays on his lips. “My father wants something I don’t want to give him.” You nod, not asking, not pushing. There is so much you don’t understand yet, but you understand him. The way he sits next to you with shoulders heavy and breath uneven. The way his fingers find yours again like it’s instinct.  

Your hand finds his cheek. It’s a quiet gesture, a lullaby without words. “You can stay,” you whisper. He exhales, and there’s something sacred in the way his forehead falls against yours. The kiss he places on your lips this time is different; softer, deeper, unhurried. It tastes like gratitude and confession, like the first pages of a book too dangerous to read aloud. His hands settle at your waist as if anchoring himself in you, and yours curl around his shoulders. You don’t speak again. Not for a while. You let the silence fill the cracks, the breaths between kisses soft and slow, the kind that linger and promise without saying anything at all. 

And when he finally falls asleep beside you, his head resting against your shoulder, you stay awake a little longer, watching the way the moonlight rests on his lashes. You think of what it means to keep a secret this delicate. What it means to fall for someone forged in the fire your family fears. You don’t have the answers. But for tonight, you have him. And that is enough. 

Dawn unfolds like a sigh across the sky, the pale blush of morning slipping between your curtains and brushing the walls in hues of gold and rose. The world is still hushed in its waking breath, and for a moment, it feels as though time itself is holding its inhale, reverent of the quiet magic nestled between tangled sheets and slow, secret heartbeats. You stir, not with the abruptness of alarm, but the gentle unraveling of sleep's cocoon. There’s warmth beside you, not the abstract kind, but the tangible, breathing presence of someone tethered to this moment with you. Jay lies on his side, propped slightly on an elbow, his gaze fixed not on the window, nor the ceiling, but on you. 

There’s something unguarded in the way he looks at you; no smirk, no mask, no carefully constructed armor. Just eyes like storm clouds caught at sunrise, soft and searching. It startles something in your chest. You blink sleep from your eyes, voice still laced with dreams as you ask, “What time is it?” His lips quirk, that familiar crooked grin ghosting over his features as he leans closer and murmurs, “Almost six.”

Then, without waiting, without asking, he presses a kiss to your lips, slow and deep and reverent, like he’s memorizing you all over again, like he’s tracing every fragile thread that tethered last night’s chaos to this quiet intimacy. You kiss him back, languidly, until the haze lifts just enough for reality to set its feet back down. You pull away, breath brushing his cheek, and whisper, “What are we doing, Jay?”

There’s a pause, a brief flicker of hesitation across his brow. His hand, warm against your hip, stills. “We’re having fun,” he says at last, like it’s simple, like it’s something that doesn’t ache to hear. You sit up, the sheets slipping from your shoulders like petals falling in protest. There’s a steel note in your voice now, a tremor wrapped in resolve. “I’m not just some girl you kiss in the dark,” you say, eyes catching his. “I don’t do this. I don’t just… fool around. I believe in love.”

He’s quiet for a heartbeat too long. Then he sits up, too, crossing the small distance between you with one hand gently cupping your jaw. The air stills. His thumb traces the edge of your cheekbone as his eyes search yours. “You’re my girl,” he says, voice low, like a promise soaked in shadow and light. “If you want to be.” The simplicity of the words catches you off guard. No grand declarations, no silver-tongued poetry. Just that raw and real and something you can hold. 

A blush colors your cheeks like the blooming of first spring after a cruel winter. You nod, your voice a thread of warmth, “I want to be.” And then you’re kissing again, with a new kind of urgency, not born from fear or secrecy or rebellion, but from the aching sweetness of something finally named. His hands cradle you with more care this time, reverent, as if he knows what you’re giving him. Your fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring him, anchoring yourself to the weightless gravity of this moment. 

It grows heated; breath against necks, hands skimming skin, whispered sighs and unspoken want. But there is no rush, no need to chase the edge of desire. You pause, your forehead pressed to his, and he doesn’t push. He stays. He breathes with you. And in that moment, it feels like the world, with all its judgment and fury, has fallen away. There is only this morning. Only this softness. Only the boy who held you under a bruised sky and the girl who believed, still, in love. 

His kisses continue softly, his hands still like steel on your hip — grazing the skin where your pajama top rose slightly. “Jay..” You trailed, breathless. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” He looked at you with heavy eyes, a dopey smile on his face. You were playing with fire here — suiting up to get burned. This was dangerous, who knew what your father and Taehyun would do if they knew Jay was in here with you, kissing you. It could very well be the end of him as you knew it. Your hands found Jay’s chest, pushing slightly to give yourself room. 

“I’m worried.” You say, your voice small. “My family hates you —” 

“Who cares?” 

“I do.” Your voice was stern. You wanted him to know you were serious. That even though you sometimes hated how protective they were, you still loved them, respected them. And what you were doing right now in your room was forbidden, it was wrong. A part of you didn’t care. You felt free from the shalkes tied to your life for the first time and you’d do anything to keep that feeling. But an equal part of you felt ashamed at the lying. You were not one to lie. Especially to your family. 

“They can’t tell you what to do.” Jay’s tone is soft like he knows this is a delicate topic. He’s using his kid gloves on you and you hated it. 

“They don’t.” You huffed. Jay’s eyebrow lifts slightly, like he doesn’t believe you in the slightest. “Fine.” You sigh. “They do.” 

“Don’t let them.” 

“It’s not that easy Jay.” 

“It can be.” He argues. “Just do whatever you want.” 

“You try doing that with a father like mine.” The words slip from your lips before you could stop them, before you could think. Because Jay did have a father like yours; they were one in the same no matter how much they hated each other. Jay looked at you like he understood your slip up. He said nothing further, he didn't need to. It was an unspoken agreement between you too. 

“Jay?” You asked warily. Jay hums, returning his lips to your collarbone as he leaves feather-like kisses over the skin. “What did your father want you to do that you didn’t want to?”

You don’t miss the way his entire body stiffens like a statue made of clay. You don’t miss the second he takes to answer and the shift in his tone. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, okay?.” He says, a smile on his face. You stay silent and he doesn’t elaborate, instead reattaching his lips to your neck once again. Maybe in distraction, or maybe because he really didn’t care — either way, it worked. 

You allowed him his freedom to roam your body as he pleased. and you enjoyed it, god help you — you actually enjoyed it. You craved more and like the devil himself took over you, your lips parted only a sigh leaving “Please.” 

What were you asking for? Were you ready to have sex? To lose your virginity? and to Jay of all people? You weren’t sure. It was like Jay could sense your hesitance, his head shaking no as soon as the words left your lips. “You’re not ready, baby.” He whispered into your temple. and he was right. You weren’t. So instead he stayed in your bed. Not much longer but long enough for you to really miss him when he left. 

It was barely seven am when he decided it was time to climb out the window he came from the night before leaving only a whisper of himself and the memory of his lips on your own. It was a hollow feeling, one you couldn’t show when the rest of your family awoke and crawled out of their beds. You had to act normal. Like the enemy wasn’t right under their noses only a door down for the entirety of the night. 

The morning light was pale and indifferent, stretched thin across the sky like a faded lace curtain, and you watched your father and Taehyun disappear down the long gravel drive, their figures swallowed by the dust trail of the pickup truck and the unspoken weight of their business. You didn’t need to be told anymore, it was stitched into the sharp glances exchanged over dinner, into the coded conversations that dropped into silence when you entered the room. “Shipments,” they called them. But you were no longer a child swayed by misdirection and empty euphemisms. You had lived enough in shadows now to know when men spoke in half-truths and loaded words. Still, you said nothing. Because silence, you were beginning to learn, was its own kind of survival.  

Your mother bustled through the house like a hummingbird flitting from flower to flower, gathering Minji’s shoes and packing a tin of the sweet bean buns Mrs. Lee down the road had brought over. You watched her from the hallway, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, half-lost in your thoughts until she mentioned she’d be taking Minji over to the Parks’. “To play with Soojin,” she said, not looking up from her careful wrapping. Her voice was light, casual, like it was nothing more than an errand, like the name Park didn’t hold tension in your bones and a sudden, blooming heat in your chest. “I’ll come,” you said suddenly. Your mother looked up, startled, brows slightly lifted. “You want to come?” Her voice held a delicate edge of suspicion, like she couldn’t decide if she’d misheard you or if you were up to something you hadn’t yet put into words.

You nodded, steady. “Yeah,” you said, reaching for your coat. “I’d like to see Soojin.” That was the lie you chose. And to your surprise, your mother offered no protest, just a quiet, searching look and then a simple, “Alright then.”  The drive to the Park house was quiet, save for Minji’s soft humming in the backseat and the rhythmic turning of tires on dirt. The landscape rolled past in sepia tones, fields dotted with brittle grass, fences leaning like tired old men, the occasional burst of gold where the last stubborn wildflowers refused to bow to autumn’s chill. And then, the house appeared, grand in its own weathered way, with its wide porch and flaking paint and the lingering ghost of old money, old power, clinging to its bones. Soojin ran out to greet Minji, her laugh a bright trill in the cold morning air, and your mother excused herself inside with Mrs. Park, Jiyo, with a container of red bean buns tucked beneath her arm like a peace offering. 

You lingered on the porch, pretending to straighten Minji’s jacket, pretending not to scan the windows, not to listen for footsteps. The air was thick with anticipation, though nothing had yet happened. That was the trouble with secrets, you carried them even when no one asked you to, let them soak into your skin until they colored everything. And then there he was, Jay, stepping out from around the side of the house with that same easy, careless gait, a cigarette between his fingers and mischief in his gaze. He was the storm you had let into your room, into your lungs, and now he lingered like the scent of smoke in your pillowcase. You didn’t speak, not yet. Just held his eyes as he approached, the ground between you crackling with everything unsaid, everything that was coming. And in the quiet beat before words, before explanation, you realized you hadn’t come here for Soojin at all. You’d come for this, to stand in the belly of the lion’s den and feel the pulse of something forbidden, dangerous, and real. 

The sun was yawning low over the tree line, casting molten ribbons of gold across the Park’s backyard where Minji and Soojin chased each other in dizzying circles, their laughter rising like wind chimes caught in a summer gust. You watched them through the gauzy screen door, a ghost on the threshold, your arms folded across your chest like you could contain the gnawing question that kept pressing against your ribs: Why had you come? Inside, your mother and Jiyo sat in the sitting room with glasses of white wine that caught the light like glassy honey. Their voices rose and fell in polite crescendos, dulcet tones masking whatever quiet rivalries or histories they once shared. You could see the familiar curve of your mother’s mouth as she smiled too much, nodded too often. The room felt warm and distant, like a dream you weren’t quite invited into. 

You didn’t feel like staying downstairs, didn’t feel like sitting with women who spoke in codes and closed-lip smiles. “Excuse me,” you said softly, stepping into the living room. “Could you tell me where the bathroom is?” Jiyo looked up and gave you a generous nod, her hand gesturing vaguely toward the hallway. “Upstairs, last door on the right,” she said, then turned back to your mother with the easy grace of someone who had already forgotten you were there.

You climbed the stairs slowly, each step creaking beneath your weight like a warning whispered through wood. The house above was hushed, muffled by carpet and secrets. You passed doors half-ajar, the sterile scent of lemon cleaner and aging wood perfuming the air. But when you reached the top of the stairs, something stirred in you, an itch, a pull, the unmistakable gravity of curiosity. You didn’t go to the bathroom. Not at first. You wandered. 

It started as a glance into rooms left ajar. A study with a too-clean desk, a guest room with a bed so stiffly made it looked untouched by any soul. And then, Jay’s room. You knew it without needing to be told. The door was slightly cracked, and the air that filtered through was familiar, cologne and cigarette smoke, sweat and something wild, something him. You pushed it open. The room was dim, cluttered but lived-in. A guitar leaned against the far wall, strings dusty but taut. Sketches littered the desk, some crude, some startling in their intensity. A record played softly in the corner, a crackling blues tune that seemed to slow time. You stepped further in, eyes skating across his world, your fingers itching toward the mess.

You told yourself you weren’t snooping. But then you saw them. A pair of sneakers shoved halfway beneath the bed, saturated with dried blood, crusted around the soles. Beside them, a shirt, rumbled and wrinkled, with a maroon stain blooming like a dying flower across the chest. The sight of it stilled the air in your lungs. Your mind raced. You knew that shirt. Or thought you did. It haunted the edges of memory, like a face seen once in a dream or a name heard in a half-slept conversation. Your fingers hovered above the fabric, not quite brave enough to touch it, not quite smart enough to turn away.

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice broke across the room like thunder ripping through a still sky. You spun around. Jay stood in the doorway, a silhouette carved in shadow, his face unreadable and hard. The kind of hard that wasn’t born overnight, it was forged, sculpted in fire and violence and too many buried truths. “I — I was just —” you stammered, your throat drying like sand beneath sun.

“You were just what?” he growled, stepping forward. “Looking through my shit?” His eyes blazed with something you didn’t recognize. Not anger exactly, something deeper, more wounded. Betrayed, maybe. Or scared. You opened your mouth, tried to explain, tried to make it sound innocent, but the room felt like it was tilting, spinning around the bloodied cloth and your thundering heart. He was inches from you now, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile. “You shouldn’t be in here,” he said, his voice low, like gravel and regret.

You swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.” But even as you said it, you knew sorry wouldn’t fix this. You stiffened, the air around you charged like the moment before a summer storm breaks, still, electric, heavy with the promise of thunder. Your fingers twitched away from the shirt just as his voice split the silence again. “I was looking for the bathroom?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Jay said, his voice cutting through the space between you like a cold blade. “You weren’t looking for the bathroom.” You turned to him, spine straightening like iron pulled through a fire, and lifted your chin. You took a breath, steadying your pulse, willing your voice not to tremble. “Don’t talk to me like that,” you said quietly, firmly, like a line drawn in the sand. “I asked you not to.” 

He blinked, thrown off by your calm. His chest rose sharply with a breath he hadn’t meant to take. For a heartbeat, the fire between you crackled without direction. Then you reached down, hand hovering once more above the bloodied shirt, and asked the question that had begun clawing at your ribs since the moment you saw it. “What is this, Jay?” Your voice wasn’t accusatory, just soft, curious, laced with something more dangerous than suspicion. Concern. “Why is there blood on this? Are you hurt?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked to the shirt, then back to your face, something stormy building behind his lashes. Without a word, he stepped forward and yanked it from your hand with a violence that wasn’t meant for you but sliced through the moment all the same. “Mind your own damn business,” he growled, gripping the fabric so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Don’t touch my things.”

The room seemed to grow smaller, the walls pressing in. Your stomach twisted, not in fear, but in hurt. The air between you, once filled with charged possibility, now choked with something unspoken and ugly. “I care about you, Jay,” you said, voice softer than it had any right to be. “If that blood’s yours, if you’re hurt, I deserve to know. I want to know.” He looked at you, really looked, his features warping with conflict. And then, so quietly it was almost a breath, he admitted, “It’s not mine.”

You waited, searching his face for more; anything. But his jaw locked, and his eyes shuttered, and you knew he was already pulling away from you. “Then whose is it?” you asked.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Jay —”

“I said I’m not telling you.” There was finality in his voice, a wall thrown up in a single breath. The boy who kissed you on the church steps, who tapped at your window like a lover from a poem, he was gone now, replaced by something harder, colder, cloaked in silence. Something broke in you. Not loudly, not with fireworks; but quietly, like frost spreading across glass. “Fine,” you said, each syllable clipped and cool. “Keep your secrets.” 

You turned and walked past him, your shoulder brushing his as you stormed through the door. His scent lingered; cologne and smoke and something wild, and you hated how your body still ached for him even as your heart folded in on itself. You didn’t look back. Not even when you heard him sigh behind you. 

The hour was brittle with sleep, the kind of silence that makes the world feel like it’s holding its breath. Your room was bathed in pale moonlight, the only sound the hum of the summer night outside; until the tapping began again. First gentle, like fingertips brushing a memory. Then louder. More insistent. A quiet desperation dressed in knuckles against glass. You curled tighter beneath the covers, clutching the edge of your pillow like it might anchor you to the dreamless dark. You didn’t want to see him. Not tonight. Not after that. Your heart was still bruised from the words he’d thrown like stones, from the blood he refused to explain, from the locked vault of his silence that you could not pick no matter how softly you knocked.

But the tapping wouldn’t stop. You hissed under your breath, casting a panicked glance toward your door; no footsteps yet, no flickering hallway light. If your mother woke, if Minji stirred... you’d never hear the end of it. Gritting your teeth, you kicked off the covers and padded to the window, throwing back the curtain with a fury that masked the fluttering inside your chest. There he was.

Jay. Like some bruised ghost conjured from a fever dream, standing half-shadowed in the night. But the moment your eyes landed on him, all that anger, the sharp, glittering shards of it, melted away like ice against fire. His face was a tapestry of pain: lip split, eye swelling, blood at the corner of his mouth. There were scratches across his neck, and he was holding his side like something inside him was broken. You pushed the window open without a word and stepped back. He climbed in slowly, like every movement cost him something. And when his feet hit your floor, his strength gave out, he sank onto your bed with a groan, his head tipping forward, hair falling over his eyes.

“Jay,” you whispered, kneeling beside him. You reached for him instinctively, your fingers ghosting along his arm. “What happened?” He winced, jaw tightening. “Don’t ask.”

“Jay —” 

“I can’t tell you,” he said, voice raw and quiet, like something torn. “Just — don’t ask.” And for once, you didn’t. You swallowed your questions, letting them die inside your throat. Because the way he looked, beaten, broken, and showing up at your window anyway, was answer enough for now. You fetched the first aid kit you kept hidden in your drawer, remnants of scraped knees and childhood falls, and returned to him. The bed dipped under your knees as you leaned in close, the soft sound of tearing wrappers and unscrewing ointments the only conversation. He hissed as you dabbed antiseptic across a gash on his temple, his hands gripping the bedsheets so tightly his knuckles went pale. But he didn’t pull away. 

You worked in silence, your touch gentle despite the chaos churning inside you. There was a sacredness to the moment, a kind of intimacy that didn’t need words, just breath, and closeness, and the quiet permission to fall apart in front of someone. You brushed the blood from beneath his nose, cleaned the dried smear along his jaw. Your fingers trembled, not from fear, but from the unbearable tenderness that unfurled inside you. He looked at you then, through one bruised eye and one clear, his lips parted like he might say something. But nothing came out. 

You could’ve leaned in. You could’ve kissed him right then, let him forget the pain with the press of your mouth. But you didn’t. Instead, you cupped his face, thumb stroking gently beneath the bruise that bloomed like a violet shadow under his eye. “You didn’t have to come here,” you whispered. “I didn’t know where else to go.” And your heart cracked wide open. 

Jay turned his face toward you, and for a moment, he looked unbearably young. Not the smirking boy with chaos on his tongue, not the ghost who haunted alleyways with fists and fury, but just a boy, lost in something far bigger than himself. The confession was quiet, barely more than breath, but it landed heavy in the hollow of your chest. You looked at him for a long moment, searching the shadows in his face for something, fear, regret, guilt. You didn’t find it. Just sorrow. And a strange, bitter tenderness. 

There was a silence, then. The kind that doesn’t ask to be filled. The kind that stretches its limbs across a room and curls up beside you like an old friend. Your fingers found his beneath the covers, roughened knuckles grazing your softer skin, and for a time, you just breathed together, matching rhythm for rhythm, heartbeat for heartbeat. But then it spilled out of you, like water through a cracked dam. “I hate the secrets,” you said, voice catching. “I hate not knowing. I hate feeling like I’m being kept away from something real.” 

He turned to face you fully, his brow furrowed. “They’re not to hurt you,” he said. “They’re to protect you.” You scoffed lightly, the sound bitter on your tongue. “That’s just another way of keeping me in the dark.” Jay reached up, brushing your hair back from your face. His fingers were still trembling slightly from whatever hell he’d crawled out of, but his touch was impossibly gentle.

“There are men out there,” he said slowly, “much worse than the one who grabbed you in that alley. Men with no soul behind their eyes. Men who would burn down your world just because it’s beautiful. If they ever came for you…” His jaw tightened, that fire lighting behind his gaze again. “I’d burn the whole fucking earth down first.” Your breath caught. There was no poetry in his words. No soft metaphor. Just pure, raw promise. And it hit you harder than any poem ever could.

Your chest ached with a tenderness so sharp it almost felt like grief; for the boy in your bed, for the pain in his silence, for the thousand versions of himself he had to bury just to survive in the daylight. And in that quiet ache, you leaned in. Your lips met his like a secret, like a prayer. Not rushed. Not ravenous. Just two souls pressing together in the quiet lull of honesty. His hands cupped your face with reverence, as if you were something sacred he wasn’t sure he deserved. You kissed him again, and again, letting the silence slip away with every touch. This wasn’t heat. It wasn’t the chaos that had sparked between you before. This was slower, deeper, an unraveling.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he whispered something you couldn’t quite make out; maybe your name, maybe a plea. You didn’t ask. Because for now, this moment was enough. 

The night seemed to stretch on forever, suspended in the quiet hush that followed whispered promises and half-spoken truths. The air in your room was still, yet it hummed with something electric and unspoken; like the pause before a storm or the moment just before a symphony begins. Jay lay beside you, his fingers threading gently through yours, his gaze roaming your face as if memorizing it, committing it to something deeper than memory, carving it into bone, etching it into breath. You turned to him, eyes wide and open like the night sky, and he met your gaze with the same soft wonder. No more walls. No more masks. Just two young hearts aching for something real in a world built on silence and shadows. “I want this,” you said, voice no louder than a falling feather. You were ready to give yourself to him; completely. 

Despite the lord's word of marriage before intimacy this felt right. At this moment you couldn't think of anything more perfect than this. He didn’t ask if you were sure. He saw the truth written in the way your hands trembled as they found his face, in the way your breath hitched not from fear but from anticipation, from a kind of reverent awe. The kind that settles between two people who have never done this before; who, even if one of them had, had never done it like this. 

There was no rush. No fumbling urgency. Just slow hands and soft sighs, as if the whole world had narrowed to this moment; the curve of your cheek beneath his touch, the shape of your name in his mouth, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. Outside, the night pressed close to the glass, the moon a silver sentinel watching over the hush of your room, the silence of surrender. When you gave yourself to him, it wasn’t with hesitation; it was with trust, wrapped in candlelight and starlight and the unspoken understanding that nothing would ever be quite the same. Not after this. And in that moment, you weren’t the daughter of a man wrapped in danger. 

“Oh my god.” You sighed out as he thrust into you with a decadent ease. His touch light, his hands roaming your body like he owned it. And tonight, he did. Your moans were quiet — not to disturb your mother and sister. The soft thump of the headboard against the wall only slightly worrisome to your otherwise clouded judgement. Tonight, He wasn’t the boy with blood on his hands and secrets behind his teeth. You were just two people, breaking open beneath the weight of something delicate and real. 

He held you like something precious, like a wish whispered into the dark, and you clung to him like a prayer. And when it was over, when your bodies stilled and the world exhaled around you, you lay in his arms with your heart thudding softly against his chest. Not afraid. Not uncertain. Just full. And maybe that was the real miracle. Not the act itself, but the way you both emerged from it; still whole, but changed. Softened. Strengthened. As if love, in its quietest form, had found you in the dark and called you home.

Morning came like a whisper you didn’t want to hear; pale light creeping through your curtains, unwelcome, stirring you from the warmth left behind on your sheets. You reached instinctively for him, for the imprint of his body beside yours, but your fingers met nothing but the cool quiet of an empty bed. Jay was gone. You sat up slowly, sleep still crusted in the corners of your eyes, the remnants of last night clinging to your skin like faded stars. It wasn’t disappointment that he’d left, he was never the type to stay but a hollow ache bloomed in your chest all the same, tender and unnamed. You didn’t know if you expected a note, a goodbye, or even a lie wrapped in sweetness, but the absence spoke louder than anything. And still, you weren’t sorry. 

Your house felt changed when you walked through it; heavier, like the walls had swallowed some of the night’s truth and were trying to keep it secret. Your father and Taehyun had returned, the sound of the front door slamming earlier than sunrise pulling you halfway from sleep. Now they were back and the air was different, taut like a fraying wire. You didn’t know what had happened during their absence, but Taehyun carried the shadows like a second skin. He moved through the house like a ghost with a fuse in his chest, snapping at your mother over nothing, brushing past you with glass in his eyes, his hands shaking when he thought no one could see. You stayed out of his way. The silence between you two felt sharp and uncertain, like the edge of something waiting to be named.

Dinner that night was a ritual gone wrong, a prayer said with a mouth full of venom. You sat at the table, poking at your food, the warmth from your mother’s cooking doing little to ease the unease curling in your stomach. Your father, red-cheeked from whatever he’d been drinking, leaned back in his chair like a king on a crumbling throne, waving his glass with a crooked smirk. “That bastard Chul still thinks he can outplay me,” he muttered, voice thick with contempt. “His whore of a wife putting on fakeness like she’s better than the rest of us. And that boy of theirs... that Jay. Arrogant little shit. You can see the rot in him from a mile away.” 

You stiffened. The words felt like claws scraping against your skin, peeling away the quiet you’d wrapped around yourself. You looked up, your fork frozen in your hand. “He’s not like that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but it rang clear through the room like a church bell cracking. “You don’t know him.” The silence that followed was immediate and suffocating, like the house had stopped breathing.

Your father’s face twisted, his eyes going dark in an instant. The chair groaned as he shoved it back and stood, fists curling like thunderclouds. “Don’t you ever defend him again,” he snarled, the words spit like poison. “Do you hear me? If I ever hear you say that bastard’s name in this house again, I’ll lock you away so tight you’ll forget what sunlight feels like. There is nothing about that boy worth defending.” Your breath caught in your throat, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. Your mother said nothing, eyes fixed on her plate like it could save her. And across the table, Taehyun stared at you; not with anger, not with disgust, but with something else. Something unreadable. Suspicion, maybe. Or worry. Like he was trying to put together a puzzle that suddenly had one too many pieces. 

You looked away first, throat burning, fingers shaking under the table. The warmth of last night felt galaxies away now, replaced by the cold realization that you were dancing with danger on a threadbare stage. And everyone around you was starting to notice. 

Sunday returned like clockwork, draped in solemn hymns and ironed dresses, as though the week’s secrets hadn’t been dragging behind you like chains. You found yourself sitting in the same pew as always, hands folded politely, head bowed beneath the weight of a hundred stares that whispered like ghosts behind you. The church was beautiful in that way all cages are, ornate, holy, and full of silences no one dared name. Incense curled like serpent smoke in the air, clinging to your lungs, your clothes, your bones. Jay was there. He always was. 

But today, he looked like the devil in disguise, ink-black suit pressed sharp enough to wound, and that crooked halo of hair that caught the light like it knew exactly how to tempt. He didn’t sit near you, didn’t look your way. Not really. But you felt him, his presence a gravity that tugged at your pulse. You couldn’t breathe right, couldn’t think right, not when the ghost of his mouth still lingered on your skin like last night had never ended. When the time for confessionals arrived, you rose slowly, walking the familiar path toward the booths. The red velvet curtain felt like blood between your fingers, and the small wooden seat creaked beneath your weight. You bowed your head, ready to whisper into the lattice the half-truths you’d rehearsed in your mind. But then you heard it. 

The rustle of fabric. The soft push of the curtain behind you. The scent of cigarette smoke and something darker, familiar. Before you could turn, Jay slid into the booth beside you, his body too close, his knee brushing yours in the dark. “What are you doing?” you hissed in a breathless whisper, heart already rioting in your chest like a church bell rung wrong. 

He didn’t answer at first. The space was small, too small, like a secret made physical. You could feel his breath at your temple, the heat of him seeping into your skin. “Forgive me, Father,” he murmured, voice low and sacrilegious, “for I am about to sin.” You turned sharply toward him, eyes wide. But in the dark, you could barely make out his expression, just the glint of something wild in his gaze. His hand found yours in the stillness, fingers threading through with the quiet urgency of someone drowning. 

Jay—” you tried to protest, but he leaned in, forehead resting against yours, and the world tilted. “I want you so bad.” he said, softer now, like a confession. “I couldn’t help myself.” Your breath caught, and suddenly you weren’t in a church anymore. You were in a storm. You were in a dream. You were in that fragile place where you didn’t know where faith ended and he began.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, though you didn’t really want him to go. 

“I know.” His hand slipped to your jaw, tilting your face toward his. “But I had to see you. Had to let you know that you’re still mine.” His lips brushed yours like a prayer, slow and reverent, and you kissed him back, like you were trying to absolve every wicked thought in your head, every rule you’d ever followed, every chain you were ready to break. The booth was a confessional, ye; but what you whispered into each other’s mouths were not sins. They were truths. Unholy. Beautiful.

You hear a rustle next to you — the priest had entered the booth beside you, ready to hear your sins. Your eyes widened with a mix of panic and excitement. You were not the type of girl who hopped into confessionals with their boyfriend. You weren’t the type of girl to rebel in anyway, it seems like lately that's all you've been doing. 

“Good morning.” Father Lee sighed from the otherside of the confessional. “I will begin with a prayer.” Jay’s fingers danced delicately along the lines of your dress, pulling the hem up slightly. Your eyes are wild as they shoot to his face. Jay only sends you a smirk in response, his thumb ghosting over your panties. 

“Dear heavenly Father..” Father Lee starts the prayer but his words fall on deaf ears, the only thing you can concentrate on is the way Jay’s fingers feel over your clothed clit. Circling his thumb like a bird on prey. “We’ve come here today to atone for our sins..to seek forgiveness… —” 

Jay’s moves your panty to the side; now ready and bare for him. Your breath shutters in your throat as a moan threatens to spill past your lips. You let out a squeak as Jay’s fingers found your sensitive nub rubbing slowly up and down. Jay looks at you with a devious smile, lifting his unoccupied hand to shush you with a finger against his lips. Your eyes narrow in his direction. This was so wrong. So so very wrong. How could you let him do this? How could you like? 

“We ask you, our lord, to bring peace unto us. To help us prosper —” Your hand grips Jay’s shirt, a sigh leaving your lips as he dips one single finger into your entrance. 

“Oh god —” You let slip out. A wave of panic washes over you. 

“Yes.” Father Lee hummed. “Call onto our lord and our savior..” Jay adds another finger his pace quickening along with your breathing, your chest heaving and moans knocking at lips begging to be set free. 

“Yes, god.” You whimpered, moving your hips to better aid Jay’s fingers. “Yes, yes, god.” 

“That’s it.” Father Lee nods. “Call unto him, as he is the only one who can judge you.” You feel your orgasm building in your belly, clutching onto Jay’s shirt and the arm chair you sat in; the small booth becoming hot and humid. Luckily your chants had been mistaken for prayer — something you knew you’d be ashamed of once the haze of Jay’s magnificent fingers faded. 

“I’m–” You whispered low, so close you’re not even sure Jay had heard you. He continued his movement inside you catapulting you closer and closer to your end. 

“Do you accept this prayer and are you ready to confess all your sins?” Father Lee says as a closing statement. Your orgasm washes over you like a wave, pleasure coursing through your veins straight to your belly. You convulsed around Jay’s fingers withering under  his touch. 

“Yes! Yes!” You chanted “Oh my god.” Your breathing was uneven. Father Lee shuffled beside you. “We can begin..” He trailed off. 

“Tell me, what would you like to confess?” Your eyes find Jay’s once again as your breathing slows. What did you just do? Jay flashes you a smile, a shit eating grin that you can’t help but send back. You were in trouble with him, you were falling in love with him. And nothing good could come from that. 

The morning opened soft and unsuspecting, wrapped in the perfume of maple syrup and brewed coffee, the clink of cutlery on porcelain playing a quiet lullaby in the kitchen. You sat across from your mother at the table, a gentle spring of sun dripping through the curtains, casting golden bars across her cheekbones. She looked peaceful, almost angelic, eyes trained on the television in the other room, the morning news murmuring low and steady in the background. Minji giggled somewhere down the hall, her laughter like bird song, but your focus remained tethered to the screen, distant, detached, until you heard the name. “Breaking this morning,” the anchor announced, her voice dipped in solemnity, “the body of Lee Felix, was found submerged in Blackwater Lake just after midnight…”

You froze. The fork slipped from your fingers and clattered against the ceramic plate, a jarring sound in the otherwise delicate quiet of brunch. Your breath caught like fishbone in your throat, your entire body leaning unconsciously toward the screen, as if proximity could rewrite the story you were hearing. The screen flickered. A photo filled the frame. Felix.

Smiling in that too-cocky way he had at the bake sale, his cheek bruised, his eyes alight with some reckless thing. But it wasn’t his face that rooted you to the ground like a gravestone. It was the shirt. The unmistakable burgundy fabric. The fraying collar. The splash of print along the bottom edge. The shirt you’d held in your hand just days before, trembling with unspoken questions, stained with blood and too many terrible possibilities. Felix was dead. The shirt was his. You couldn’t breathe.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, a tremor leaking into the quiet air. Your mother looked up in surprise, her brows creasing with maternal concern. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You were already moving, scraping your chair back so violently it nearly tipped, heart pounding so loud you could barely hear her through the static in your head. You mumbled something, a headache, a book you left at the shop, you weren’t sure. Lies came too easily these days. 

You didn’t wait for her permission. You ran. Out the door, down the walk, across the street. The wind caught at your hair like fingers trying to pull you back, but you didn’t stop. The streets blurred around you, faces passing in a smear of color, sunlight too bright and air too thick. Every step closer to Jay’s house was like descending deeper into a question you weren’t ready to ask, but couldn’t leave alone. You didn’t hesitate to slam your knuckles against the front door, the sound thunderous in the quiet morning, like something wild had come knocking. The door opened too slowly for your frayed nerves, and Jay’s mother stood on the other side in a lavender cardigan and confusion painted across her face. 

“Oh… hello, sweetheart,” she said, blinking at your expression. “Is everything all right?” 

“I need to see Jay,” you said, your voice sharp and breathless, like it had been carved from ice. She flinched slightly at the urgency, but stepped aside, her brows drawing together. “He’s upstairs…” You didn’t wait for further instructions. You moved past her like a wave breaching the shore, like fury given legs and purpose, charging up the stairs that once felt so intimate, so safe. Each step was a scream. Each breath a question with no answer.

His door was closed. You didn’t knock. You pushed it open with trembling hands and a pounding heart, ready to wield truth like a blade. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, thumbing through a worn paperback, the early light painting soft shadows along the cut of his jaw. He looked up, startled, and then he smiled. “Hi, beautiful. What a surprise.” You could have wept. For a moment, you could have let the lie of his voice fold around you and lull you into peace again. But the pain sharpened you, drew you back into the wound he left open. 

“Cut the bullshit, Jay,” you snapped.

He blinked, the smile faltering. “What’s going on?”

You stepped further into the room, the space between you tightening like a noose. “Felix,” you said, your voice trembling at first, but hardening with every syllable. “They found his body. He’s dead, Jay. And he was wearing that shirt, the one I saw in here. Don’t lie to me again.” Confusion flickered across his face for the briefest second. A hesitation. Then a breath. Then something darker took root behind his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking abou — ” 

“Don’t.” Your voice cracked like thunder. “Please don’t lie to me again.” A long silence stretched between you, thick with guilt, with ghosts, with things unspoken and too dangerous to name. Finally, Jay stood. His hands trembled. “I didn’t want to,” he whispered. “But it wasn’t supposed to go that far.”

“So it’s true,” you breathed, your heart crumpling like paper inside your chest. Jay looked at you then, really looked at you. Not with the charm he wore like a second skin, not with that crooked smile, but with a hollow kind of desperation. A boy unraveling in front of the girl he swore to protect. “My dad…” he began, his voice thick. “He wanted to send a message. He made me follow Felix after the bake sale. Said we had to scare him. But things got out of hand. I — he — ”

But his confession never found its end. Because in the next moment, there was a hand. It covered your mouth. Strong. Cold. Reeking of cologne and iron. You tried to scream, but it caught like thorns in your throat. You thrashed, but the grip was vice-like. Jay’s face drained of color. His eyes widened, not in confusion, but in shame. In knowing. He didn’t move. From behind you, a voice like oil and gravel poured into your ear.

“Good job, son,” it said, calm and cruel. “Right where we wanted her.” You couldn’t see him, Jay’s father, but you could feel the venom in his smile. The triumph.

Your blood ran cold. You looked at Jay. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t reach for you. Didn’t fight.

And that was the worst part of all. The boy who once held you like he could protect you from the world now stood silent as it swallowed you whole. Everything went black. The last thing you remembered was his eyes. And how he didn’t even blink. 

The world came back to you slowly, like a fog lifting, like a dream turning to ash in the light of dawn. The first thing you noticed was the ache. Not just in your limbs, which were bound tight and cold against the wooden arms of a chair, but deep in the soft animal center of you, where all tenderness used to live. There was a throb behind your eyes, a ringing in your ears that ebbed and pulsed like the ocean, but no comfort came with the sound. Just dread. Just the realization that this wasn’t a nightmare. You were really here. The room was dimly lit, bare walls stained with time and secrets. The air smelled like mildew and something sharper, gasoline, maybe, or the acrid ghost of sweat and fear. Your heart pounded in its cage as your vision cleared and faces came into focus.

Chul was there. So were two men you’d never seen before, both cloaked in the quiet violence of people who had done unspeakable things too many times to remember. One was smoking, the other cracking his knuckles absently, like he was waiting for permission to break something. You realized with a start that the "something" was you. And then there was Jay.

He stood a little apart from the others, like the guilt itself had pushed him away. His eyes were on the floor, fixed on a crack in the tile like it was the only thing holding him to this earth. Not once did he look at you. Not when you stirred. Not when you cried out his name. Not when you whispered, “Jay?” as if saying it softly enough would undo everything. You struggled against the ropes that held you, panic rising in your throat like a scream half-formed. “What is this?” you demanded, voice raw and hoarse. “What the hell am I doing here?” 

Chul stepped forward, all easy menace and slick suits, the kind of man who wore his power like a second skin. His mouth curled into something that was almost a smile, but not quite. “Payback,” he said simply, like that single word explained the rot in the walls, the bile in your throat, the betrayal eating you alive from the inside out. He crouched beside you, eyes level with yours, and you hated how calm he looked, like this was just business, like you were nothing more than a bargaining chip on a bloody chessboard. 

“Your father,” he said, voice smooth as oil, “has been a real thorn in my side. Took down nearly every operation I had on the east side. Raided our shipments, turned men against me. You know how much money I’ve lost because of that self-righteous bastard?” You stared at him, your mouth dry, your stomach turning over with nausea and fury. 

“You’re lying,” you whispered, but the words held no weight. “Am I?” Chul chuckled. “You’re just a pawn, sweetheart. Your old man declared war, and war always has casualties. You just happened to be the most… convenient.” Your gaze darted to Jay again, desperate, pleading. But still, he wouldn’t meet your eyes. He stood there, carved of stone, spine rigid, jaw clenched.

“How could you?” you asked him, voice shaking, eyes burning. “Jay, please… how could you?” But something in your question broke him. Or maybe it simply exposed what was already broken. His shoulders heaved once, and he turned abruptly, storming from the room without a single word. The door slammed behind him like a sentence passed. Your heart shattered in real time. The betrayal settled into your bones like frost. You were alone now with wolves.

Chul clicked his tongue, rising back to full height, then nodded toward the men beside him. “Don’t worry, princess,” he said. “We’re not gonna kill you… yet. But if your daddy wants to see you again, he’s gonna have to cough up something big. Otherwise?” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. They left you then, all of them, the door groaning shut with finality and locking behind their footsteps. The silence that followed was unbearable. You sat there, in that cold, empty room, and the sob that broke from you was ragged and deep, a sound pulled from the belly of something ancient and wounded. Tears fell hot and relentless down your cheeks, carving rivers through the dust on your skin, baptizing you in despair. 

You had loved him. With the kind of reckless tenderness that only a heart untouched by betrayal could offer. And he had handed you over like a gift-wrapped threat. You didn’t know what was worse, the fear of what was to come, or the ache of what had already been lost.

Four days passed like smoke curling in a dark room, slow, choking, shapeless. Time didn’t pass so much as it bled, drop by drop, down the walls of your confinement. There were no windows in that room, no clocks, no way to mark the hours except by the grumble of your stomach or the ache in your spine. You lived in the rhythm of silence broken only by the door creaking open, just once a day, when she would come. Jay’s mother.  She entered like a ghost, quiet and grieving, her eyes rimmed with something too deep for sleep to ever touch. She carried with her a tray of food, a bowl of water, a cloth to wipe the bruises blooming across your face like cursed flowers. She said little, only the softest of whispers falling from her lips, prayers to a God that seemed to have turned His back on this house long ago. She would kneel before you, brush the hair from your face with fingers trembling as if your pain were a flame she longed to touch but could not bear to hold. “I’m sorry,” she’d murmur, like a litany. “I’m so sorry.” Then she would rise and vanish once more into the dark.  

Jay never came. Not once. And that betrayal festered like a splinter lodged too deep to remove, its pain dull and constant, until it owned you. But the fifth night was different. You felt it before it began, an electricity in the air, a crackle in your bones. The door opened like a breath being drawn, sharp and final, and in stepped Chul with the air of a man who enjoyed drawing blood from stones. His suit was immaculate. His smile, not.

“Well,” he said, striding toward you with slow, deliberate steps. “Looks like Daddy dearest doesn’t want you back after all.” The words crashed over you like waves too high to rise above. You gasped, shook your head, tears leaping unbidden to your eyes. “No,” you whispered. “No, you’re lying — he wouldn’t — he —” Chul crouched, one hand on the arm of your chair, the other cupping your chin with mock gentleness. “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he said, tone slick with venom. “This is what happens when you pick the wrong side.” And then the slap.

It came like thunder, a sudden crack of bone against bone that left your ears ringing and your vision swimming. Your head snapped to the side. The copper taste of blood bloomed on your tongue. You barely registered the movement beside him until a voice, hoarse, breaking, cut through the din. “Stop!” Jay shouted, lunging forward, only to be yanked back by one of the other men. “Don’t touch her!” Chul’s laughter was a bark, cruel and sharp. He turned to Jay and struck him hard in the stomach. Jay doubled over, coughing, and Chul’s voice hissed through the room like smoke curling from a fire.

“You idiot. You love her?” he spat. “You really think that means anything here?” Jay didn’t answer. He couldn’t. But his eyes oh, his eyes, finally found yours. And in them you saw ruin. You saw remorse painted in broad, bleeding strokes. You saw a boy unraveling beneath the weight of his choices. A boy who had built his house upon the sand and now watched the tide take it all away. Chul pulled out his phone, leaned down, and took a photo of your face. “Let’s send this to her dear old dad,” he sneered. “Maybe this’ll make him reconsider.” 

You tried to turn your head away. You tried to disappear into the corners of the room, to become so small the violence couldn’t find you. But the blow came anyway. Sharp, final, slicing through your mind like lightning through a tree. The force of it sent your chair tilting, your cry echoing like a bell rung in mourning. “Stop it!” Jay shouted again, voice ragged with desperation. Chul raised his hand for another strike, and then the world changed.

The gunshot split the room in two. It was not the loudness that startled you but the silence that followed. A breathless, unnatural stillness, as if even the air had forgotten how to move. Chul’s eyes widened in shock before his body pitched forward, collapsing like a house gutted from the inside. Blood pooled around him, red as prophecy, thick as grief. Behind him stood Jay. Still. Gun in hand.

Smoke rising from the barrel like a spirit torn from its shell. He didn’t move. Not at first. Just stood there, breathing hard, his expression hollow and carved from something beyond pain. He looked older in that moment. Not like a boy. Not even like a man. Like something ancient. A myth unraveling in real time. Then he dropped the gun, and it clattered to the floor like a broken promise. He rushed to you, hands trembling as they touched your face, your shoulders, your bindings. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, again and again, as if the words could erase the hurt, the betrayal, the pieces of yourself that now lived in a place too dark to name. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know — I didn’t know how to stop him. I should’ve — God, I should’ve…”

And for the first time, you saw him for what he truly was. Not your savior. Not your villain. But a boy who had been used like a blade and turned back to find himself stained in the blood of everyone he loved. Jay’s fingers worked at the ropes in frantic desperation, his breath uneven, ragged with panic and something else, grief, maybe, or guilt so deep it had built a home inside his lungs. The ropes gave with a rough snap, and your hands were free, your legs unbound but the weight that clung to your chest, to your soul, was not so easily unknotted.

And then the world broke open. The thunder of boots against tile. Shouts reverberating down the hall like echoes from a war long lost. The door burst open in a flurry of violence and authority, police in black and navy, weapons drawn, voices commanding surrender. Behind them, a storm of familiar faces: your father, his jaw set in stone, and Taehyun, eyes wide with something between horror and relief. And in the center of it all, your body still trembling, Jay standing before you with blood on his hands, his father’s, and maybe his own. They pointed the guns at him. They shouted at him to step back, hands up. 

He did. Quietly. No resistance. Just a soft exhale from lungs that had been holding the moment too long. His eyes flickered toward you once more, and something like peace passed through him, fleeting and fragile. The cuffs clicked around his wrists like fate locking its teeth. “No!” you cried, stumbling forward before your knees could give way. “Wait — wait!”

The officers halted just long enough for you to cross the room, pushing past your father’s grasp, past Taehyun’s startled call. You stood in front of Jay, close enough to feel the heat of him, the sorrow radiating from his skin like the fading warmth of a star long burned out. He blinked at you, the shimmer of unshed tears catching on his lashes like morning dew. You reached up, took his face between your hands as if to memorize it, every angle, every flaw, every beautiful, broken piece. And then you kissed him. Fiercely, tenderly. Like the world was ending, because maybe, in some way, it was.

Your forehead rested against his when you finally pulled away, breath mingling with breath, time halting between heartbeats. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words shattering against your skin. You didn’t say it was okay. Because it wasn’t. Not really. Not ever. But you let him hold your gaze, let him see that despite the betrayal, despite the blood and the lies, despite everything, you still saw him. Beneath the wreckage. Beneath the boy who had chosen wrong and tried, far too late, to make it right.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, voice breaking. “I love you.” And then they took him. Through the door and out into the blinding blue morning. The house echoed with the quiet that follows storms, shattered glass and distant sirens, your own pulse pounding in your ears like a drum. You stood there long after he was gone, your wrists red and raw, your heart half in your chest and half walking away in a squad car under the watchful eye of justice and tragedy alike. Your heart is split open like a wound that hasn’t quite healed. Like a prayer said to a god who may or may not be listening. You carry him with you, in the silence between breaths, in the spaces love once occupied. Some nights, when the wind howls just right through the trees, you swear you can hear the echo of his voice.

Not calling for forgiveness. Not even for understanding. Just saying your name like it was the only true thing he ever had. And somewhere out there, the world goes on.

(♬) - @beomiracles @biteyoubiteme @hyukascampfire @dawngyu @izzyy-stuff @1-800-jewon @xylatox

[megankoumori]

In defense of a "Wicked Stepmother":

Sarah's Stepmother in "Labyrinth", named Irene in tie-in media, only gets about a minute of screen time before Sarah rushes off to her room in a soaked snit. Fanfic writers usually turn her into an evil bitch and even the manga sequel, "Return to Labyrinth", has her cold and abusive to Toby, her biological child. But here's the thing...

I think Sarah's mother gets a bum rap.

Dressing nicely for an evening out and having mild conflict with a teenager does not a Lady Tremaine make. And as someone who actually lived with a narcissistic, manipulative, emotionally abusive stepfather, I can tell you that Irene doesn't even come close to wicked step parent territory.

Backstory first. It's never spoken of in the film, but clues in Sarah's room tell us that her real mother is a stage actress who abandoned her and her father for another actor. Sarah idolizes her mother and tries to emulate her with play acting. Sarah's father met and married Irene sometime after Linda ran off, and Sarah, who thinks her mom walks on water, resents the hell out of Irene for taking her place. A place that Linda abandoned for another man.

She couldn't help it. He looked like David Bowie.

Let's look at her first alledged transgression. She won't let Merlin into the house. Instead she orders him into the garage. Heartless, we assume because we all love dogs and only the most soulless of monsters don't. But slow down. She didn't leave him out in the rain. She put him in the garage. Furthermore, Merlin is an Old English Sheepdog. Is he a nice dog? Sure, but he's also a breed that's notorious for being high maintenance and hard to keep clean and right now he's soaking wet and filthy. Irene isn't being cruel, she's trying to keep him from ruining the carpet.

So now Sarah and Irene are in the house about to have their confrontation. "Sarah, you're an hour late..."

Sarah lost track of time. Sarah is the one who screwed up. Irene has every right to be frustrated. For all we know, she and Robert were supposed to see a movie or meet someone and Sarah's tardiness wrecks their plans. Note, please, that while she is frustrated, she's not even yelling. My mom would have screamed bloody murder and then held it over my head for weeks.

"Your father and I go out very rarely..."

"You go out every single weekend!"

There is no way to confirm who is right on this. I will say Sarah is the one prone to hysterics and exaggeration, so it's not looking good for her.

"And I ask you to babysit only if it won't interfere with your plans."

I ask. Irene asks. She doesn't demand, and she doesn't expect Sarah to give up her previous plans.

"Well how would you know what my plans are? You don't even ask me anymore!"

Sarah, you were LARPing in a park by yourself. Furthermore, with the storm you would have gone home anyway.

"Well I assume you would tell me if you had a date. I'd like it if you had a date. You should have dates at your age."

Irene doesn't want Sarah to be a Cinderella stuck at home every night. She wants her to go out and have a social life. This is literally the opposite of the bedtime story Sarah tells Toby later.

Also, "I'd assume you tell me..." Irene might not be wording it in the best way here, but she wants Sarah to communicate with her. She wants them to have a relationship.

Then Robert enters the scene. "Sarah, you're home. We were worried about you."

WE were worried. As in both he and Irene. You think that's the reason she was waiting on the porch? Because their sixteen year old daughter is an hour past when she said she'd be home and now it's raining and getting dark?

It's not like she'd ever talk to a stranger.

Sarah runs up the stairs in a snit, not even acknowledging her father and leaving Irene dismayed. "She treats me like a wicked stepmother in a fairy story no matter what I say." Her voice isn't angry, it's hurt. She's making an effort to reach Sarah, but nothings working. She can't break through the tantrums and the anger and the hero worship of Linda.

Sarah is a fantasy junkie. It's all over her room. Her books are all fairy tales. Her dog and her teddy bear are named after figures from Arthurian legend. But she's wrapped herself in a different kind of fantasy, a toxic one. One where Irene, well meaning and kind, is one of the evil stepmothers from her fairytale books, while Linda is good and virtuous like one of the dead moms at the beginning. Except Linda isn't dead. She's shtupping a costar.

Part of Sarah's coming of age and maturity is rejecting Jareth, the stand in for her mother's lover and therefore finally rejecting following her mother's selfish path. We see her finally let go of Linda by putting her picture and clippings in the drawer. Hopefully, the next morning, after she picks the confetti out of her hair, she'll finally be able to start over with Irene.

[hwanchaesong]

Folklore: A Trilogy (August)

Childhood friend!Jake X F!Reader

Synopsis: Ever since you left home to pursue the city life, you really did think that everything was over. Then you returned, and you still see him there. Will something rekindle and burn inside you once more?

word count: 24.6k

genre & warnings: fluff, angst, smut, childhood friends, kind of slowburn, summer love/fling au, this fic is taylor swift inspired (maybe you'll also see other song references but who knows), mentions of bullying & childhood trauma, cursing, drinking, party/festival, country side & small town settings, fights, jealousy, built up sexual tension, implied situationship, lies lies lies, sop (with bf!sunghoon), cheating (zont zo this, stay loyal!), oral m&f rec, fingering, nipple play, dry humping, overstimulation, creampie, kitchen sex, bedroom sex lmao, multiple unprotected (wrap before you tap!) sex scenes, appearance of other idols, & reminder!! the idols' characters here do not mirror real life! not proof read! etc etc mdni

a/n: this is the first part of the Folklore: Trilogy, which focuses on Jake aka our August. also the longest fic that i have ever written for now 🥲 and yes, i changed the 'aesthetic' moodboard bc i am obsessed with this kind of layouts lately 👺

ps. likes, comments, reblogs are all appreciated! let me know what you think y'all. thank you so much and enjoy! 🩷

🎧 playlist

You stretched your back, muscles cramping from seven hours of traveling, drawing in the conventional briny ocean breeze that passes through the air as you stepped onto the sandy sidewalk, opening the brown gates and the creaking metal alarmed the people inside the building of your arrival.

"Well, aren't you home earlier than expected?" your mother greets you, giving you a welcoming hug when you enter the house and you take notice of something delicious wafting around your nostrils.

"Yes, there wasn't much traffic on the way here," you returned her embrace after dropping your bags on the floor, "and I smell something good." you remarked, heading towards the kitchen to find your dad bustling in front of the stove and your little brother mixing something in a bowl.

"They're chefs now." your mother jokes, following you in the kitchen and making small talk when the men of the house told you two to sit back and relax, to let them do the work this time.

"Wow dad," you peeked over his shoulders and you almost drooled at the delicacy he's concocting, "your cooking skills have greatly improved."

"Me too!" the youngest of your family spoke, walking over to you and nudging you with his elbow, "Look, I made your favorite dessert."

You lovingly ruffled his hair and ignored his complaints, knowing that he secretly loves it, "You're doing great as well, Riki."

You assisted with setting the table, sitting down in your usual spot and helping yourself to a large portion of food, wolfing the grub with the utmost gratitude because seriously, dorm and university meals kind of suck.

While eating, your mother decided to bring up a topic that you dare say, plain horrendous and tedious, "Now that you're here, you should come with us to the town fiesta before your summer break ends."

You groaned, not liking the idea of spending your beloved summer around other people, only wanting to be a couch potato, to sleep, eat and play games all day long.

"Don't be like that!" your father chides, eating a spoonful of the tiramisu that Riki made before speaking, "Besides, your old friends will be there. Aren't you excited to see them?"

Old friends. Pft.

Can you even consider those people your friends when all they ever did during your elementary and highschool years was to approach you whenever they needed something?

You hated them, really, they are one of the many reasons why you were determined to depart from your hometown. You only come back here from time to time because of your family. The moment you set foot into the city, you've already cut those stupid, snarky bitches in your life.

"Come to think of it, Jake will be there." Riki added, then you paused.

Jake? The aussie boy whom you've spent most of your childhood with? The same Jake who gifted you the largest teddy bear that he won in a shooting range in a local carnival?

You cautiously peered at your brother, asking him a mindless question for good measure, "Jake with a government name of Sim Jaeyun?"

"Yep, good 'ol Jake. Do you know that I'm taller than him now?" he snickers, visualizing the older boy's rage if he hears that comment.

"He's still here?" you asked once more, because surely, you thought that he's gone by now. Back to Australia to pursue a career there, it's what he has informed you before going your separate ways for college.

"Of course, where else would he be?" Riki side-eyed you then realization flashed on his face, "I get it."

"You get what?"

"You missed him." he wiggled his eyebrows teasingly that it had you slapping his shoulder in an attempt to terminate his annoying ass down.

"I don't! I was asking because he told me that he w-"

"Excuses, excuses." he cuts you off, waving his hand around dismissively, "I'm so gonna tell him that you missed him so dearly."

"Really?" you crossed your arms over your chest, a challenging aura radiating off of you, "Go ahead then, guess I'll give the clothes I bought to Sunoo and Jungwon."

He whined, you gave him the cold-shoulder, he pulled your hair, you yelled at him and you nearly went nuts when he licked your spoon filled with the last tidbits of the chocolate goodness. (which he knows is your pet peeve.)

Before a fight breaks out, your parents ushered you both to your respective rooms, saying that they'll take care of the dishes. Rubbing their foreheads and saying something along the lines of 'sibling dynamics never change.'

While showering, you pondered over the invitation, maybe you should go. Check out what's new, totally not because of a certain someone... you think?

Jake was your closest companion back then, a kind person with a heart of gold. If anything, you'd call him your true friend. He made you laugh, shared his food with you, and did everything together; attached to the hip like you two were born from the same seed.

Not until he told you that he's moving back to Australia to attend a university that he's been dreaming of since he was young.

You remembered crying yourself to sleep that day, then you made the decision to study in the city because there is no way in hell you'll survive college life here without your one and only friend.

So it really was a surprise to you when Riki revealed that he's still here. Does that mean that moving out was nothing but a mistake on your part? Does that mean that you could've stayed here and lived a peaceful life instead of hustling in a swarming city?

You shook your head, 'Y/N, don't be silly.' If you didn't explore outside your small town, then you wouldn't have the chance to meet him.

A giddy smile crept up your lips at the thought of your boyfriend. One day, you'll bring him here and he'll definitely love the area, especially the lake when it's frozen so he could skate on it, then you'll be there beaming then-

You slapped your soapy cheeks with both hands, scolding yourself for daydreaming, 'Stop being a delulu! It's only been a few months since you started dating him!'

You quickly rinsed and dried your hair, changing into some of your comfortable childhood pajamas and letting yourself fall into dreamland.

---------------------------------------------------

"What the fu-" you must have resembled that one Morty meme when he woke up, because who on earth is making all the noise downstairs when it's... oh, it's 1 PM. Dang, you slept that long? Like a log even.

You went to the bathroom and freshened yourself up, and when you deemed yourself presentable enough, you headed down to check what the commotion was about.

You definitely heard Riki shouting, but there is someone else. A voice that is eerily familiar but is somehow foreign to your ears.

You steadily walked into the living room, ceasing when you detected a mop of long black hair sitting next to your brother's shorter one.

"Huh?" you unconsciously uttered, catching the attention of the boys who are currently playing Mario Kart.

"Y/N?"

The rotation of the earth seemed to slow down when you saw him again.

There he was, the old friend that saved you from a gloomy childhood.

"Jake?" you hesitantly called out, making him smile, nodding his head in your direction before standing up and lurching towards you for a bone crushing hug.

"Y/N!"

"Jake!"

You hugged each other for what felt like hours, disconnecting when Riki cleared his throat, standing up from his position on the couch and retreating in the kitchen, "Imma go and fetch us some snacks, call me when you're done being lovey-dovey."

You rolled your eyes at your sibling's sass, returning your attention to the sunny boy in front of you.

"How are you? You look great!" he beams, tightly holding your hand in his while he scans you from head to toe.

It kind of made you self conscious, wishing that you should've made an effort to dress better but hey! He's your sweet, lovely Jake, you’re assured that there's no ill intention behind his stare.

"I’m good, busy with college and all. How about you? You look fine as heck!" you answered him with all the sincerity that you could muster, especially at the last part of your statement.

He looks great, like really great. You’ll even say that he’s transformed into an actual disney prince.

You do hark back to him being one of the rare good looking bunch of kids , but boy, did you not expect puberty to hit him like a bullet train.

Given that Riki is taller than him (man did not lie), his visuals are insane. He retained his puppy-like eyes, prominent cheekbones that were the result of his baby fats disappearing, his tall nose and jawline that are now sharper than a knife, and his lips.. his godforsaken lips. It's fuller and thicker, and not to mention, his beige skin is glowing.

He's a totally different person from what you can remember, and the more you observe him, the more you discern how much of a man he became. Only did you realize that you were blanking out when his phone rang, and being the nosey person that you are, you couldn't help but peek at the caller.

'Yuna.'

Oh, so he has a girlfriend. Well, you should have expected that. A pretty boy like him would surely bag any girl that he wanted.

"Right, I'll be there in ten." he ended the call and turned to you with an apologetic smile, "Guess we'll continue this talk later."

"I don’t mind, no problem."

Perfect if you say so, it'll give you some extra time to relax and sink the newfound information in your brain, that your childhood friend grew up into a dashing, debonair man.

"Here, give me your number so we could easily communicate." he hands you his phone, allowing you to type and save your contact.

"You're leaving?" just then, Riki emerges from the kitchen, holding a tray of munchies and setting it on the coffee table.

"Yeah, sorry man, I need to do something."

Riki side-eyes his friend with a sarcastic hum. (you think that side-eyeing people is his new habit from the amount of times he did it within a short span of time.)

"Do something or do someone?" Riki haphazardly asked, making Jake glance at you nervously, an awkward chuckle erupting from him.

"It's not like that," he glances at the clock, clicking his tongue and bidding his goodbyes, "I gotta go now. Y/N, I'll text you later."

He waves at you both, bolting through the door and Riki lets out a sardonic laugh, "Look at that fuckboy, so ready to get his dick wet."

"Hey," you pinched Riki's cheek, earning yourself a pained drone from him, "watch it. Since when did you learn vulgar words like that."

He swats your hand away, "Since birth. Ouch! Stop it!" he protests when you start pinching him more, not appreciating his raw sass.

"But really, he's a fuckboy now?" you inquired, flopping on the couch and grabbing a cookie from the plate, chomping on it while you watch Riki pour some juice for you two.

"Why? Are you jealous?" he teased, doing that same taunting eyebrow wiggle that you hate so much.

"I will literally choke you." you threatened, making him raise his hands up in surrender.

"Simmer down." he sat next to you, exiting Mario Kart and opting to play some anime on Netflix, "I don't know if it's true or not, but word from others is that Jake's been screwing girls since last year."

"Is that so?" you nonchalantly replied, listening to your brother gossip but then you got lost in your own thoughts.

The rumors are bad, but you somehow can't bring yourself to believe it. In the short amount of time since you've left, maybe some things have really changed. You wouldn't know, you weren't here to witness it.

You shrugged and watched the anime playing on the tv, something about a reincarnated slime. This is a good distraction instead of waiting for Jake to text you.

---------------------------------------------------

You don't know what came over you when you heard your phone go off, the message notification sound making your heart skip a bit. You hurriedly got off your vanity and laid down on your bed, gripping the phone and opening the text.

'Hey Y/N! Jake here, this message is kinda late, so sorry, I got caught up with something.'

You smiled and saved his number, typing in a reply... which you didn't give much consideration to and now you are regretting your uninhibited decisions for sending that.

You (8:45 PM):

Got caught up by your girlfriend? Who was she again, Yuna?

Jake (8:46 PM):

You saw that?

Noo, it wasn't like that I swear. I helped her fix her brother’s computer. She is just a friend, nothing more, nothing less.

Again, you don't know what came over you as you rolled over your bed, staggering at the fact that he's explaining himself even though he’s not required to. And you guessed you took too long to reply when your phone buzzed, signaling that he's calling you.

You straightened your back, clicking the green button, "Hello," his voice sounded gruff over the speaker, "are you mad? Promise, she's not my girlfriend or anything. Please don't be mad."

Straight to the point, you see, and his chatterbox personality still comes out whenever he gets mousy about something.

"Jake, chill out." you giggled when you heard his relieved sigh from the other side, "I'm not mad at you, I just did something for a while." you lied, "Besides, why would I be angry if you got a girlfriend?"

There was a beat of silence before he spoke, "I mean, we did make a promise back then so.." he trails off, and the flashback about your salad days takes over.

"Promise me that I'll be the only girl in your life!" you cried, smacking little Jake on the head.

"Ack!" he yowled, his tiny hands flying to the stinging area of his skull.

You were being unreasonable, but the thought of losing Jake to that ugly girl in class 2-A made your younger self throw a tantrum. Wailing like a toddler while stomping around the empty playground.

"Y/N! I didn't do it on purpose! She touched me first!" Jake tried to explain, sprinting to you when you accidentally tripped on a rock, face planting on the dirt, "Are you okay?!"

You hurriedly sat up, not wanting to look weak despite your crying and looked at him, staring at his teary eyes, maybe you are being unfair to him.

You sniffled, wiping your tears away before mumbling, "Just promise me."

Jake sighs, dropping to his knees in front of you and holding his pinky finger out, linking it with yours forcefully but with care, "I promise you, in the name of all my ancestors, that you'll be the one and only girl in my life!" he exclaims, giving you a toothy smile that immediately soothes all your stupid concerns.

"Well, except for my mom and Layla... and maybe some relatives."

You bit your lower lip, heart rate speeding up, "You haven't forgotten about that? We're like, what? Eight?"

"I take my pinky promises seriously!" he declares, making you laugh heartily at his mindless yet captivating jest.

"So, wanna catch up? Let's hang out at the beach." he suddenly proposed, catching you off guard. You peeked at the clock, it's nearing 9 PM but oh well, you're old enough to do this, unlike before that you had to sneak out of the house just to meet up with him.

"Yeah sure. Just give me a few minutes." you agreed and he happily cheered, the call ended after that and you hurriedly stood from your bed; Fixing your hair in the mirror, making sure to spray a decent amount of perfume and tiptoeing out of your house, trudging the road for a seven to ten minutes stroll to the beach.

When you arrived, Jake was already there, fixing a blanket that you assumed he brought so the two of you can sit comfortably instead of getting sand on your buttocks.

"Hello, kind sir." you greeted him like a princess, bowing to him gracefully.

"Hello to you too, mademoiselle." he takes your hand as he mimics the bow that you did.

"You speak french now?" you razzed, resting on the blanket first and tapping the space beside you.

"I was trying to go along with whatever skit you're doing." he says, his tone sprinkled with some attitude but nonetheless still sat beside you.

The atmosphere was tranquil as you both stared at the clear night skies, letting the evening wind blow through your faces, bringing a sense of solace that you really missed.

Until your mouth itches and you break the congenial quietude, bringing up the topic that has been bothering you.

"Say Jake," you started, staring right ahead and disregarding his sparkling eyes that he directed at you when he heard your voice, "you told me that you're going back to Australia for college. It really was a surprise that you're still here. What happened?"

He averted his gaze when you went and returned his stare, "Nothing. Just.. something came up, so my parents told me to stay here instead."

You frowned, your guts telling you that he wasn't telling you the entire truth, but you ultimately decided to let it go for now. You don't want to make him uncomfortable by pushing him to open up to you, knowing that it's been a while since you two had hung out.

Heck, you think- no, you believe that he's closer to your brother now.

You let out a sigh, giving him a covert smile and patting his back, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Nah, it's fine." his mood shifted into a lighter one, seizing your hand on his shoulder and clasping it into his, "Aside from that, I'm glad that I didn't leave, because if I did," he squeezes your hand, his warmth seeping through your bones, "I wouldn't be able to see you again."

For the nth time that night, for whatever mysterious reason, you went and reciprocated his actions, squeezing his hand tighter, sitting next to him closer, and smiling blithely at him, "Welps, I'm here now." you whisper, and you swear you saw something twinkle in his irises.

"You are." he smiles back, releasing your hand and slinging an arm over your shoulders, "That is why we need to make the most of it, okay?"

You hummed, leaning on his side and snuggling under his hold.

You’ll later say that you missed him, that’s it. You missed your friend, the person who stuck by your side despite your annoying and messy ass.

There's nothing wrong with spending time with a person that you had regarded as your human diary, the person that you once held feelings for. That was all in the past, for now, you'll catapult your qualms away and enjoy the moment.

When it was getting colder, Jake offered to walk you home, laughing like some elementary schoolers while trudging to your house, talking about the dumbest shit you had done during your juvenile years.

It was nice, it was always nice being with him. A sense of warmth within you knowing that you're safe when you're with him.

The reminiscing went to a halt when you stood by your humble abode's gates, "Welps, I'll see you again soon." you stood awkwardly, like you wanted to say more, to do more, but you don't know what words or actions there are to say or do. 

Finally, Jake took the initiative and stepped towards you, enveloping you in his arms and wishing you a good night before parting your own ways. 

As you lay down on your mattress, drowsiness lulling you to sleep, you couldn't help but think about the light pressure on the crown of your head when Jake hugged you.

You chose to remain ignorant, along with the thunderous thumping of your heart in your chest.

---------------------------------------------------

"Oh my god! He's a hottie!" Sunoo exclaimed, gaping at the picture on your phone.

"Let me see!" Jungwon dropped the other side of the shirt that he's been vying for with Riki, making the younger stumble on the floor, the other dashing on Sunoo's spot on the couch.

Your brother groaned, rubbing his stinging buttocks that made contact with the cold wooden tiles, "That fucking hurt."

"Language, Riki." your scolding fell on deaf ears as he continued muttering curses under his breath, directing such vile words to his friends.

You, Riki, and his childhood friends’, Jungwon and Sunoo, are currently in the living room, busting out the souvenirs that you bought for them when the topic of your boyfriend was brought up. (courtesy by the pocketz.)

They were whining to you, begging you to show them a photo, to which you shyly presented your phone up, your lover's social media account opened and ready for them to rubberneck at. It was safe to say that they were awed by his visuals, except for your bratty younger brother.

"I'm much more handsome than him," he comments, draping his body all over the boy who's holding the gadget and looking at the image as well, "bet I'm taller than him too."

"Shut up. Is height your only way of hyping yourself?" Sunoo rolled his eyes, shoving Riki off of him and letting Jungwon grab the phone and have his turn of stalking your boyfriend's instagram account.

"Wow, Y/N, your man looks like he came out straight from a manhwa." Jungwon stated, "And no, sorry Riki, I love you but there is no way you're more handsome than this guy."

"Whatever." Riki gave it up, choosing to hide the shirt that he's keeping tabs on from the corner of the box that made Sunoo shriek, yelling that he already called dibs on the piece of fabric.

Jungwon returned your phone back to you, going over to his friends and joining the chaos.

You chewed on your lower lip, staring at your boyfriend's picture. He does look ethereal. Standing in a field, looking sideways to subtly flex his side profile, and to top it off, the mixture of bright orange-blue hues of the skies highlight his sharp, charming visuals even further.

Your dopey smile was difficult to fight off, suddenly missing him and wishing for him to appear out of nowhere so you could hug and kiss him.

"What's the commotion all about?"

A wild Jake appears, infiltrating your home with a grin and scanning the area before sauntering to the venue of the ruckus You quickly close your phone, tossing it on the table and giving the aussie a side hug when he flumps on the unoccupied space beside you.

"These boys are bickering over the clothes that I bought." you explained, answering his question as he scrutinized the three idiots who kept on fighting over a hoodie, ignoring his existence in the room. "Apparently, they love these kinds of styles."

"I bet they do. Look at them going crazy over a pink hoodie." Jake derides, kicking Jungwon on the butt and chastising them for not even sparing him a glance when he popped up in the room.

"Sorry, didn't see you there hyung." Jungwon nonchalantly says, the other two temporarily paused and muttered an uninterested 'hello' before going back to their serious business of sorting outfits.

"Wow, really these guys." Jake sighs in displeasure, a grimace on his face as he watches the youngsters, "How long have they been at it?"

"About.." you trailed off, peeking at the time, "two hours now. It's getting kinda boring."

Jake pondered for a while, after a minute or two he turned to you and fished out his car keys, dangling it in front of you with a smirk on his face and hazel orbs full of mischief, "Whaddya think of a ride around town?"

You blinked at his spontaneous behavior, shrugging and pretending to think about the suggestion even if you already had an answer, "Sure. I mean, there's nothing much to do here."

Jake cheered and made a dash towards his car, mumbling something about revving it up and you have to come quick. You shook your head endearingly at his excited demeanor, truly like a puppy.

You went to follow him but not before telling the boys who are, until now, arguing over the mundane things about your souvenirs, "Y'all, I'm going out for a while. Look out for the house while I'm gone, and don't destroy anything while mom and dad are not here too."

You stood there for a while, observing their squabble, then you chose to drop the formalities since they're too centered in their own world to even give you the time of their day.

"No, I'm telling you, this is my size!"

"You're too puny for this, c'mon man, be serious."

"I ain't the size of your dick."

"Wha-! Say that again you fuckhead!"

Truly a pandemonium, you purse your lips and rubbed your forehead, shooting your parents a text about your whereabouts and leaving the house altogether because some children just won't listen.

Something scintillated within you when you saw Jake patiently waiting outside, leaning on his car and playing with his phone.

You took your time to extensively admire him, finally seeing him in a holistic perspective.

Him, standing there with his leather jacket, clad in an all black outfit down to his shoes. His charcoal tresses flowing the same way as the wind and oh, how he glows under the glittering rays of the afternoon sunlight is blinding you.

He's flawless.

"Yoi!" you snapped out of it when he called for you, opening the passenger door and motioning for you to get on. 

You hurriedly went in, suspiciously not making eye contact, making you miss the knowing look he sent you. Now, you tried to relax, sitting on the leather seat but my god... his scent is so strong inside, it invades all of your senses, making your hands clammy.

Jake went and sat in the driver's seat, laughing when he saw you struggle to put on the seatbelt. He bent over to your side to help you out, brushing against your hand in the process.

"Your hands are sweaty." he remarked, then raised an eyebrow, "Are you.." he peeked at you from under his long hair, batting his lashes at you, "Nervous?"

Well that did the trick. You were caught red-handed and you’re not quite sure on what to or not to do, stumbling over your words to try and explain yourself.

"Hey, hey, calm down."

You took a deep breath. He's close, too close as he's still hunched over to you. Faces mere centimeters from each other but you need to be brave, gazing into his mellow eyes and feeling yourself settle when his hands enveloped yours, "It's just me, okay?"

"Right." you giggled nervously, "But no, I wasn't nervous. I was only out of it. You know, 'cuz I'm tired." you tried to play it cool like you weren't losing your mind just a few seconds ago.

He, at long last, moved away from you, letting go of your hand and starting to drive away.

"Really now?" he asked, a sly smirk on his lips but it was wiped off and was replaced with a pout when you, shockingly, flipped him off. (he did not expect you to do that, earning you a whiny "Since when have you been so violent?" from him.)

In your defense, flipping someone off is not a sign of violence, but rather an off-handed way of showing affection.

---------------------------------------------------

The trip went smoothly, you weren't anxious like a shivering chihuahua anymore, allowing you to appreciate the beauty of your hometown.

There were a lot of recently developed things.

New buildings, new attractions, and you even saw a glimpse of the upcoming jubilee; the stalls and decorations are a total giveaway.

"Woah, I was gone for a bit and changes like these happened already." you remarked, surprised at the amount of transformation in your settlement.

"Like they say, change is inevitable." he replies and you couldn't agree more. "By the way, can we go somewhere as our last destination?"

The sun was starting to set, the time for you to go home was getting close because your parents made you promise to join them for supper. But it's okay, one more location with Jake won't hurt.

So you agreed, letting him drive while you close your lids, enjoying the salty breeze from the ocean and letting the current of air brush your hair and skin, relishing in the serenity that you barely experience in the city.

After a few minutes, the vehicle went to a halt, hearing Jake murmur a small 'We're here.' made you open your eyes, and you were greeted by the familiar view.

"Oh my god, Jake!" you grinned, running towards the small, dinky wooden house that stood in the middle of the wild grasses and flowers. A rush of happiness flowing in your veins at seeing your 'secret base.'

You gasped when you entered, Jake following closely behind, you couldn't believe what you were seeing.

"Yeah," he bashfully puts his hands inside the pockets of his ripped jeans, biting his lips whilst he inspects your expression, "I took care of our secret base all this time. Corny, I know, but I really wanted to keep this in good condition."

He rambles and you listen, walking around the expanse of the room and true to his words, the four corners of the house are basically spotless. Despite the rust forming around the edges of the metals and a portion of the wood being eaten by some kind of insect, everything is still the same.

"Are you kidding me Jake?" you spun on your heels and ran to him, pulling him into a bear hug and burying your face in his chest, "This is like, the best thing that ever happened to me ever since I came back here!" you exclaimed, staring up at him gleefully.

He lets out a relieved sigh, returning your amity with the same fervor, "I'm glad, I thought I was way overboard with this."

"Pft. No way!" cue you trying to do his Australian accent, breaking the hug and proceeding to jovially push him away, "But genuine question here, why did you go all the way and take the job of being the caretaker for this supposedly tree house." you jokingly quoted the word 'tree house' with your fingers, making Jake hoot in laughter at the hidden agenda of your sentence.

"We really did our best to make this a tree house, unfortunately, we were too dumb to figure out how to build a damn house. Good thing your father is a good carpenter." he chuckles, recalling the memory of how and why the miniature flat was built.

"No, but really, the thing was.. I, ah fuck-" he runs a hand through his silky strands of inky locks, his ears turning red and your heartstrings were pulled by his adorable mien.

What your younger brother told you suddenly echoed in your brain, "Jake's a fuckboy now."

Yeah, he might be, considering the amount of girls that kept on clinging to him while he toured you around the metropolis. You saw a glimpse of it, his flirty persona, but right now, you firmly believe that he's still the same Jake that you knew.

Jake Sim, the guy who befriended you when no one else was willing to because apparently, you were a freak during your girlhood. The same guy who always protected you, stopped you from making poor life decisions that you'd probably regret sooner or later.

The same guy who took you to prom during your senior year, the one who gaped like a fish when he saw you all dressed up, a large grin on his face while he complimented you throughout the night nonstop. The one who never left your side and danced with you during the said event, not glancing at any other women's direction and focusing on you and only you until he couldn't take it anymore and kissed you on your front door.

Jake Sim, your first friend, first kiss, and inescapably, first love.

"Tell me." you urged him, cupping his face and staring right through his worries, "You can always be honest with me."

Jake visibly gulped, his hands moving on its own and engulfing yours that are planted on his cheeks.

"I wanted to preserve the memories." he admits, his eyes softening at your astonishment, "This was the place where we started our family, with our daughter Layla."

You snickered, "Layla.. how is our daughter doing?" you asked, suddenly curious about the adorable dog's whereabouts.

"So now you remember her?" Jake rolled his eyes, but still answered you nonetheless, "She's doing fine actually, she missed you a lot."

"She did?"

"Yeah, she missed you." the volume of his voice dropped, almost purring, raspy and feathery, tickling your insides, "Even her father missed you, if we're going to be blunt here."

"And who is the father?" you inquired, not noticing that Jake guided your hands towards his shoulders, his own palms gliding down your hips and gradually tugging you close to his body.

"Me, I'm the father."

You were too engrossed at the melodrama-like scene that you're starring in, not having the ability to discern that your faces are inching towards each other every ticking second.

*ring ring*

Like a wake up call, thanks to your phone, the two of you jolted and immediately separated, breathing heavily and thinking 'What the hell just happened?'

You answered your phone, your mom is getting dramatic because it's late and she's hungry, telling you to go back home right at this instant.

"Let's go, I'll drive you back." Jake's voice was distant, seeing that he's already outside, waiting for you to exit the house.

The journey back to your residence was a complete 180 of the atmosphere from when you both left. It was taciturn and morose, so much that it made you want to walk back home instead.

When he parked right outside your gates and you were about to offer him goodnight and farewell, he promptly gripped your wrist, preventing you from escaping the auto, "I'm sorry, back there, I.. I didn't know what came over me."

"No, no, it's fine. It was an accident." you say, but then you heard him mutter something, but you couldn't quite hear it. So you asked him to repeat himself.

"I said," he took a deep breath, "I want our friendship to be just like before. If that's okay with you."

You smiled, flicking his forehead as a way of telling him that everything is okay, "I would love that, you doofus."

---------------------------------------------------

Jake watches you enter your home before going off on his own apartment but not before stopping in an vacant road and banging his head repeatedly on the steering wheel.

That was so shitty and uncool of him.

Almost kissing his friend— his friend that has a boyfriend.

He sighs, shutting his eyes and repeating a mantra in his brain, 'Don't do that ever again.'

He barely managed to save the night, a poor attempt at that, thankfully, you're nice enough to let things pass and accept his proposition of rekindling what's supposed to stay in the past.

This is fine. It's foolish of him to think that he's something more to you. So he'll accept the fact that you'll always see him as your friend.

Even if he wants to love you, even if loving you is a complete necessity for him. He'll bury all of those, hidden in his box of filtered feelings and emotions, because once he lets go of his restraints, he'll lose you.

Dear lord no, the mere thought of losing you makes his stomach churn in a not so nice way, evoking the bile to rise in his throat.

Again, he convinces himself that he doesn't need anything else but to have you in his life.

"Jake, keep your shit together." he opens a compartment, looking intently at a bracelet made out of shells tucked safely in a clear glass box.

Wanting you was, is, and will always be more than enough. 

---------------------------------------------------

Undeniably, your parents nagged you for being late to the family dinner, but you paid no mind to them, opting to eat your food at the speed of light and locking yourself in the privacy of your room, throwing your body on the comforts of your bed.

Once inside, you felt like you could breathe again, all the substandard smoke inhaled from earlier finally out of your lungs. You were dizzy from everything that happened today, and you want nothing more but to combust at the mixed emotions that are brewing up.

You almost kissed Jake, for fucks sake. The thing was, you liked the way he looked at you, the way he held you, the way h-

You gasped when your phone rang, guilt running through your whole system when the screen lit up with the words: 'Hoonie 🐧'

You took a deep breath, collecting yourself for a moment before grabbing your device and answering the video call with a giddy smile and shaky hands.

"There she is, my baby, the love of my life, my wife, m-"

"Hoonie!" you whined, cutting the voice off which made the person on the other line chuckle, his loving eyes glimmer when he saw you blush.

"What? Am I not allowed to shower my baby with love?"

You giggled, lying properly down the bed and lifting your arms up so your phone would be directly facing you, letting you admire the man that you proudly call yours.

"Of course you can. How's your practice over there?" you asked, wanting to know his life’s events.

"It's fun actually, I was really nervous at first but guess what, the coaches here in Canada are so nice and they taught me new techniques so I can improve further! And, the pancakes here are so fucking delicious." he's basically rapping, you think, but you still find yourself getting drowned by his voice, the way he excitedly tells you everything about his training camp in another country is endearing. Although, you frowned when he suddenly chips his rants off, a sad sigh escaping his lips.

"Why, what's wrong?" worry graced your expression, making him coo at how adorable you are.

"Nothing. I just wish you were here with me right now."

You watched him sit up from his own bed, leaning onto the wooden headboard and intently studying you, "I wish I could come home to you after practice, then we could cuddle and kiss.. and maybe eat some pancakes too."

You laughed at his unseriousness, really, he could say the most romantic words out there yet he'd still sprinkle it with his weird uncle humor. Well, that's one of the many reasons why you love him.

"You're crazy about those pancakes aren't you?" you watched him nod his head, his eyes crinkling as he probably feels pride swelling within him for making you laugh.

"I'm crazier about you though." he winked, a boyish grin on his lips and you couldn't help but kick your feet like a kindergarten student with a crush.

"Gosh! Now you're just making me miss you more!" you grumbled, lying sideways and hiding your maroon colored face in your pillows.

His melodic chuckles resound in your ears, and you peek at him when he softly, sweetly tells you that he misses you too, tons and lots.

"No but really, aside from dying on how much I want to hold you," you chuckle at his dramatic sentence, "one of the agendas here is because a little birdie told me that you don't want to go to your town fiesta."

You groaned, "I'm gonna tell mom that you called her a little birdie."

"Hey missy, no tattling allowed here." he clicked his tongue before continuing, "But no, it was Riki who told me. And, I think you should go because I heard that it's a special celebration in your town that only happens once a year. Besides, you can't let Riki run around there alone, what if he accidentally stabs himself with a spoon?"

This time, you groaned and whined, explaining to him the many reasons why you don't wanna go. It's hot, there's too many people, and Riki is old enough to handle himself. Really, like a child throwing a fit which made your boyfriend massage his temples, and as you were on your number five reason why you didn't wanna go, you halt when his voice dropped an octave on the other line.

"What if I give my princess a little something tonight if she decides to go?" he says, and something about his tone sends shivers down your spine, especially the way he called you 'princess.'

A pet name that he uses only for certain circumstances.

"What?" you asked dumbfounded, knowing the purpose behind his words but your brain is not fully processing the situation.

"You see, I can feel it when my princess is kind of frustrated.." something in his eyes darkened as he looked at you through the screen, one that shoots arrows down to your core, "because I am too, honestly haven't touched myself for days because it's never sufficient when it's not you."

You almost choked when he let out a deep moan, and you could see the muscles in his biceps moving and bulging. The sound of his sheets rustling is very much an obvious sign that he's starting to play with himself.

"Hoon- I.." you trailed off, rubbing your legs together to generate some relief, every second you hear a guttural groan from him the wetter you become.

Oh fuck, you two were just being lovey-dovey a while ago and now it's getting real nasty... and you're loving every single second of it.

"Yes princess?" he says huskily, looking at you with hooded eyes, waiting for you to speak up.

"Help me, please." you pathetically whimpered, snaking a hand down and inside your shorts and underwear, instantly feeling the sticky juices of your pussy.

"Sadly princess, I can only do that when you say yes to the proposal, yeah?" he replied, tone webbed with feigned sympathy as he smickered at your helplessness.

Your eyes slammed shut, legs twitching and your core in desperate need of release, "Fine!" you concede, taking a deep breath when you heard your boyfriend's triumphant chuckle over the line, "Can you please just-"

"Now, now," the man uttered, biting his lower lip to keep himself from tittering at your desperate demeanor, "listen to me well and do everything as I say, okay?"

You nodded your head as an affirmation, impatiently gathering your wetness that was pooling in your heat, lathering them all over your labia.

"That's my good princess, now can you touch your clit for me?" he instructs, his heavy breathing echoing in your brain as you do what he said. A light moan escaping your lips when your finger nudges your bundle of nerves.

"Circle them around, honey, write my name on that pussy." your lover on the other line shudders at the thought of spelling his name on your glistening part, he'll definitely do it himself the next time he sees you.

"Ah! H-hoonie, need more." you cried out, keeping your voice at minimum so the other occupants of the house won't hear what's going on inside your room. "Please, I need more." you continued whining, writing every syllable of his name on your clit, an unspoken proof of him owning you.

At this point, you're having a hard time maintaining the grip on your phone, forcing yourself to look into the camera, resigned pupils begging for your boyfriend to do something. And when he did say to plunge two fingers in, you immediately obeyed, curling it into your g-spot, imagining it was his deft digits that are pleasuring you, it had you writhing around your sheets, but it's not sufficient. Not adequate to send you to the edge. 

You fucking need him. You need Park Sunghoon himself.

"I-I can't Sunghoon, this is not enough I-"

"No baby, you can and you will." he rasped, and you can barely hear him stroking himself rather harshly, surely he's also imagining your soft, small hands on his cock as he works himself into his orgasm. "Let go princess, cum all over your fingers and I'll make sure that a grand prize awaits you."

You gasped, reaching euphoria with his encouragement, along with his insanely attractive groans while releasing his load into his hand. You moaned his name wantonly until you're panting and the only thing that you could think of is him, and the said award that you'll get when you see him after the summer break. 

Your phone slipped from your grasp, exhaustion seeping in and you don't wanna move anymore. You'll clean yourself up tomorrow, opting to listen to the praises that your boyfriend is giving you, finally sleeping with a satisfied smile when you hear the words that will forever make the zoo in your stomach crazy.

"I love you, my Y/N."

---------------------------------------------------

Giving in to your boyfriend made you lament, and as much as you want to hate him for compelling you agree to this stupid festival, you couldn't bring yourself to do it because apparently, your bouncy brat of a brother who entered your bedroom in the wee hours of the morning (10 am) and his joyful celebration of you coming to the stupid event was enough to make you think that yeah, accepting that proffer may be worth it.

Still, you weren't prepared for it. You only packed the essential clothes necessary for the entire summer break. And it did not include any extravagant, shiny dresses or outfits that are suitable for parties.

Thus, that is how you found yourself walking down the cemented pavement to go to the nearest clothing store after having your not so peaceful brunch. With your brother and his friends going off about how amazing the night party at the beach for the festival would be, you couldn't help but listen to them yap.

You yelped when a car stopped beside you, and you were so ready to dash off or scream if some masked man tried to kidnap you. The familiar black tint of the vehicle made you stop and rethink the overreaction that you're about to pull, then the window of the driver's seat rolled down, revealing none other than Jake himself.

"A pretty lady walking under the sun without an umbrella at like," he paused to look at the imaginary watch on his wrist, "one pm, that's uncanny."

You scoffed, crossing your arms, "The only uncanny thing here is that," you pointed at his face, squinting playfully "wearing sunglasses inside a car, what kind of idiot does that?"

"Hey! This is for fashion!" he yelled, offended at your snide remark, completely forgetting the character he's in. "Anyways, get in. Where are you even going?"

He gets out of his car, opening the passenger seat for you and signaling for you to enter. He stands there patiently, waiting for you to move even though he was clearly upset at your joke, evident by the pout on his lips. You couldn't help but smile, flowers blooming in your chest with how sweet he is.

You amicably walked in his direction, pinching in his cheeks, "You're spectacular in those sunglasses. Now let's go to some clothing store because I have to prepare shit."

While getting yourself comfortable inside his car, you saw him fight back a smile at your compliment, his pronounced cheekbones failing to hide his grin at the last moment.

The drive resumed without a hitch with you explaining the reason for your impromptu trip, and being extra, he just had to go to the mall because, and you quote, "The mall has more options, don't be such a grinch about it." end of quote.

Now, you're having regrets part two of today's adventure because how on earth are you supposed to act when two elderly couples have mistaken Jake as your boyfriend? And he was so casual about it! He could at least act a little flustered because you were always caught off guard!

What does that make you?!

"You don't have to be so shy about it." he pokes fun at you, dragging you around the mall after telling you that he knows a good store that sells really pretty clothes.

"I am by no means shy. I was just surprised that's all, and h-"

"Here we are!" he exclaims, cutting your sentence short when he pushes you inside the shop.

The bell rang, indicating your arrival and you could hear a faint 'Welcome' from the back, probably the only employee for the day, considering the small space of the clothing store.

The ambience inside is nice, the interior was giving Parisian vibes, but you couldn't admire the place for long when Jake shoved a bunch of clothes in your face.

"Here, try some of this on and let me see." he says with an eager smile, you just have to bring out the full potential of your neocortex and thalamus and you'll be able to see his wagging tail.

"You mean I have to model you these?" you raised an eyebrow, entering a dressing room and burrowing through the clothes, picking only the ones that caught your eye, shaking your head when you heard Jake shout about him being the fashion king of your town. 

The first outfit was a simple plaid red skirt and black long sleeve top, to which Jake said that it looks like you're going to a painting class.. it was a no.

Second outfit was a drag, he says, black sleeveless overall that you paired with a white crop top. Certainly, you'll have to remove the entire fabric if you want to pee, which is a good point.

You are now slightly fuming, wanting this shit to end, not until you saw an appealing, off shoulder white dress with golden linings on it. The subtle floral pattern embedded adds to its beauty and you think, yeah, maybe this is the one.

You threw it on without much thought, exiting the fitting room and showing it to your friend who was checking the prices of some of the clothes, "What do you think?"

Jake turned around from where he was standing, and it seems that time has been possessed by a turtle. His eyes widened, raking in your appearance and etching  it into his brain, never to consign into oblivion.

Now, Jake is a devoted Christian. He goes to church to pray, thanking God for all of the blessings he has received in his life. He heard the pastor describe heaven and angels, and as a child, he thought that he'll only see that in the afterlife. Never would he expect that he'll experience nirvana and see a spiritual being whilst alive, all in the shape of you.

He was so mesmerized by you that he didn't even realize you were talking, repeating your question from before. Then his small sphere broke when an unfamiliar voice spoke.

"I think you look great in it, ma'am."

"Oh! Uh-I, thank you..?" you trailed off, looking at the boy's name tag, "Yeonjun?"

"Yeps! That's me!" the black haired man chirps, "Well then, are you getting that? Which I think you should because it really suits you."

You put a hand over your chest, thanking the employee before excusing yourself so that you can return in your previous clothes and pay for the dress.

Meanwhile, Jake was stupefied. He didn't get a word in and he was about to shower you with compliments! He scowled at the tall boy standing in the corner, and when he felt the menacing glare of the aussie, he raised his hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry man, had to speak to her because you were acting like a statue earlier." Yeonjun explains, but the smirk on his face didn't sit well with Jake.

"Where do I pay?" you appeared out of nowhere, the dress hanging on your arms, effectively breaking the tension between the two men.

"Right this way, ma'am." Yeonjun gladly guides you to the cashier area, giving you a flattering grin while he punches the price of the outfit. Before he could say another word, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, pulling you flush towards a sturdy body and a black card being dropped in front of the worker.

"I'll pay for it, no buts." Jake's authoritative behavior took you by surprise, thinking real hard on what made him act like this.

You discreetly looked at him, and my god were you blown away by how.. hot he looks when mad?

Wait a minute.. is he?

You heave when you're suddenly hauled out of the store, too busy in your own daydream to actually notice that he's done paying, gruffly grabbing the paper bag from the counter and storming out like an emotional old lady in a telenovela.

"Hold up, Jake!" you forcefully remove your hand on his own, sizing up his weird attitude before asking him what's up, and why the fuck is he upset out of the blue.

He faced the other direction, tuning in on him as he murmured under his breath, and you think you heard some curses like 'motherfucker' and 'cunt' and you had to compose yourself, or else you'll have no choice but to slap him silly for acting so tiresome in the middle of a jam-packed mall.

You sighed, putting your hands on your hips, a stance that mothers use when they're drained of their child's tantrum, "My fucking god, Jake, if you don't tell me what's wrong I'll leave you right here at this instant."

"That cashier sucks!" he bellowed, turning on his feet to face you with a frown, "He thinks he's a hotshot just because he's tall and he's muscular but argh!" he threw his hands up in the air, now sporting a petulant expression whilst crossing his arms over his chest.

"I get it." you giggled, raising an eyebrow at him that had him further frustrated, "You're jealous because he's handsome?"

"Yada yada," he rolls his eyes at your antics, not accepting such despicable reasons, "I'm a walking disney prince, he's no match for me."

"Alright, calm down Jakey." you laugh heartily, finding his baby girl stance absolutely precious, "Get that frown out of your face, you'll get wrinkles!" you went closer to him, brushing your hands all over his face to emphasize your point, not stopping until you saw a glimpse of a smile on his lips. And when you're content, you link arms with him, looking for the nearest ice cream shop, your treat, to cheer him up.

After ordering and settling down in Baskin Robbins, (the only ice cream shop in the mall), you excused yourself for a while. Going to a mini stall that you passed by a while ago to buy a certain necklace.

A silver necklace with the initials 'J' on it. You already made up your mind on purchasing it, a small gift for your friend. Staring at the jewelry now, you know that the adornment will shine on Jake the best.

You smile fondly, silver suits him, you think. Elegant and sophisticated, and the miniscule topaz stone in the letter that represents his name is the selling point for you, truly a necklace made for him.

After thanking the owner of the stall, you returned to the ice cream shop with a pep in your step, but your jolly attitude died down when you saw Jake with a girl at your table. And it appears that he’s enjoying the conversation with the pretty woman. 

'Well, fuck that, I ain't going back there when he's having so much fun without me.'

Your seething aura seemed to reach Jake, shivers running down his spine and his eyes were immediately drawn to the side, orbs widening in alarm when he saw you glowering.

Jake thought that the scariest moment of his life was when he was walking Layla early in the morning, and his dog choked on a piece of bone that was lying around in the neighbourhood, but as of now, he begs to differ.

His fear was audible in all ways, the girl in front of him noticed, making her follow what he was so riveting on and shit, that made you rage even more because it's fucking Kim Chaewon.

The girl who made your childhood a living hell. Your personal bully, the same girl who destroyed the sandcastle you built on the beach at the tender age of 6, the one who took everything away from you, the main cause of your departure in your hometown.

You felt so betrayed, the one person you thought she couldn't snatch from you, right in front of your eyes, was stolen.

You tried not to be affected by the scene, but you couldn't help the tears that pricked into the corner of your eyes when Chaewon smirked at you, and you'll be damned if you let yourself cry in her presence.

You turned on your heels, walking away and ready to commute back home but not before shooting Jake a disappointed look, ignoring his panicked expression.

Jake felt dread, guilt dropping down on his stomach when he saw hurt in your eyes, what's worse is that he's the cause of it.

He stood up right away, ready to follow you and explain the situation. That it wasn't what it looked like. He was about to take off, then he felt a hand grapple his wrist, a coy countenance can be seen on the culprit.

"You're seriously going after her?" Chaewon inquired, a mocking laugh escaped her lips, "What are you even gonna say?"

Jake retrieved his hand in a ruthless manner, sneering at the girl, "That nothing is happening here, she got it all wrong."

"Nothing?" she leered, batting her eyelashes like some bratz doll, "So fucking with me while she's gone and avoiding me when she’s here were nothing?"

"Listen here Chaewon," Jake aggressively leaned in, whispering through gritted teeth with a venom laced tone, "you do not say a word to Y/N, or else." then he left, running in the same direction that you took, making the blonde girl scoff.

Chaewon grimaced at the two cups of unfinished ice cream, setting her elbows on top of the wooden table and stagily resting her chin on her laced fingers, her attention stockpiling at a certain paper bag that's sitting on the left side of the comfy booth.

Scheme and trouble are her capital when it comes to instigations, "Game on, Sim Jaeyun."

---------------------------------------------------

"Y/N! Wait up, please, let me explain!"

You were well aware of Jake's pleads which made you walk faster, unfortunately, races like this meant that the one who has the longer limbs wins, and that wasn't you.

Jake caught up to you in no time, forcefully pulling you into his arms and enveloping you into a tight embrace, not letting you go even if you fight and hit him, accepting all of the profanities that you throw at him, he deserves that much.

It feels like you're in some k-drama. Getting back hugged by your childhood friend in a place where people are nowhere to be found, the skies turning into shades of gray and black, and frankly, you're getting tired of struggling knowing that you already lost the fight since he's so much stronger than you.

When he felt you go limp in his hold, he slowly turned you around so that he could examine you properly, a miscalculation on his part because seeing you in such a defeated state made him want to bury himself six feet under the ground until he's sure that he's paid the damages he had caused you.

"Y/N, please just one chance," he cupped your face, peering at you with such beseech, "please hear me out."

When you didn't speak, he took that as a chance to elaborate his case.

"I know it's wrong of me to interact with her, but she suddenly sat down in front of me. She caught me off guard and I was about to tell her off."

You let out a scornful laugh, pushing him away from you, "So you're saying that she's about to leave?"

He nodded, hope skirting his features but you wiped it all off with your next sentence, "Then why do you need to be so friendly with her, huh?!"

"I don’t want to make a scene there, Y/N. I have t-"

You raised a hand to stop him from saying more, having heard enough of his bullshit for the day, "Cut the crap, Jake, just- give me some time to think about.. t-this." your voice cracked in the middle and the sound reverberated through Jake's heart.

Watching you turn your back away was the hardest shit that Jake has to endure, especially since you're only a hair's breadth from his grasp.

Jake runs his hands over his face, attempting to rub the moisture away.

He has to fix this- No, he will fucking fix this even if it means that he has to go from heaven to hell.

---------------------------------------------------

You went home with a heavy feeling in your chest, ignoring the questions from your family and skipping dinner, (which is a big deal because your mother cooked your favorite food) since you don't have the appetite to join them for a delicious meal. You're tired, and all you wanted to do was cry yourself to sleep in the comforts of your mattress.

You dropped your body in the cotton sheets after washing up, dressing yourself in a simple tee and shorts.

It was eerily quiet, then the horrid memories that you clobbered in the back of your head started to swim back into the surface, your hands automatically went to your hair, gripping it hard as you choked back a sob.

A stuck gum in your precious, long hair that had caused you to cut it short, which made your classmates call you a tomboy.

Your artwork that was destroyed because this jealous girl just had to spray some black paint on it, causing you to lose a painting competition.

That one time when you had a crush on this guy named Soobin, but then he rejected you when you confessed because a certain someone made rumors about you wanting to have sex with him wherein reality, you only wanted to have a date with him.

Being called to the principal's office because you were accused of cheating during finals, which you never did but for some reason, 'evidence' of your wrongdoings appeared, and you lost the chance to become the class valedictorian.

The root of all these shitty things that you experienced: Kim Chaewon.

All the pent up humiliation and anger were released. The thought of Jake, the person who was supposed to be your shield from the disarray being involved with the person that you disliked, no, hate the most is killing you inside and out.

You sniffed, shutting your eyes and letting the tears flow freely as you clutched your pillow close to your chest. How you wished for your boyfriend to save you from this dark hole that swallowed you once more.

"Sunghoon, I need you here please."

---------------------------------------------------

You were rudely awakened by the repeated taps on the glass, a suspicious silhouette moving around the see-through curtain. You observed the shadow for a while until you decided to take action. 

You sit up, quietly grabbing a lamp on the bedside table and cautiously tiptoeing towards the window, you slightly jumped when the intruder knocked again.

You took a deep breath, raising the lamp on your left hand and slowly pulling the curtains to the side. You yelped when you were met with Jake's face pressed onto the glass of the window, clad in an all black outfit and you had to physically stop yourself from laughing with how hysterical he looks.

"Jake?! What the fuck?!" you whisper-yelled, putting the lamp down on your dresser and quickly unlocking the window, ushering him to get in before someone sees him and calls the police.

"What are you doing here?! And in the middle of the night? Do you have any idea that people might see and talk about this?!"

"I have ice cream. You didn't get to eat yours today." he shoves a plastic bag in your face, not minding your words as he huffs and puffs, probably out of breath since he had to climb the tree behind your house and go over the roof so he could slink into your bedroom. 

Yes, because life is not that easy and clichéd that a tree would be conveniently placed right in front of your window on the second floor of your home. Jake has to work for it.

"I don't want it." you uttered, trudging towards your door and opening it, beckoning your head downstairs, "Please leave, I'll be nice enough to escort you out."

You weren't looking at him, you don't have it in you to take him in because you're weak. You're not strong enough to stay mad at him, you know that one gaze into his starry eyes and you're gone, and you couldn't afford to do that.

Still, you should've checked at least once because hearing the plastic being dropped on some furniture and his incoming footsteps made you assume that he's done, that he's leaving, which was not the case.

A surprised gasp left you when Jake's hand grasped yours that was holding the knob, closing the door with a slight thud and he easily towers over you. An uncharacteristic intensity in his usually warm sepia orbs made your knees buckle, your heart rate speeding up when you realized that his masculine body had you trapped. Most importantly, his musky perfume makes you dizzy, clouding your ability to make sound judgment.

"I came here to see you, so no, I'll politely decline the offer of me leaving so soon." he murmurs, his hot breath cascading down your cheeks, and you got even more flustered when his free hand gripped your chin, leniently guiding your vision towards him.

"Please, Y/N, baby. Will you listen to what happened earlier?" he rasps, earnestly peeking into your own eyes as he searches for an answer that he desperately needed.

You'll condemn his perfume, his minty breath, his insanely attractive voice, and the sudden romantic ambience of the room. You'll inculpate anything at this point except your fragile self, because is it supposed to be your fault if Jake has the ability to render you defenseless against his overwhelming power over you?

A shaky sigh escapes you, nodding your head absentmindedly. The pet name surely had an effect on you, to which you could only describe as a grand circus playing around your whole nervous system.

"Jake.."

"There is nothing going on between me and that bitch, okay? I only care about you," he pulls your interconnected hands from the knob, bringing it to his lips and gently pecks your knuckles, "I'll drop anything just to be by your side, you know that right?"

"Please baby, I'm so sorry. I will never get in touch with her ever again. I'm so fucking sorry, I don't- I hate it when you cry, I hate it when you're sad. Please let me make it up to you. Please let me show you how much you mean to me."

You're not an impulsive person, as you'd like to believe, you tend to think first before doing something that you might regret in the future, but as of now, none of that matters.

For once in your life, you took the initiative, connecting your lips with Jake's, pouring all of your feelings in one emotional kiss. He wasted no time in returning it, turning his face sideways to deepen the liplock.

So this is what it felt like to kiss your plush, glossy lips. This is what it felt like to hold you in a way that is more than just some fucking friends.

This is what it feels like to have you. Intoxicating, addicting, and astronomically out of his wildest dreams.

Jake was brought back to reality when he felt you suck on his lower lip, opening his eyes in a haste and pulling away from you.

"I don't think we should d-" he starts, but you hush him by placing your index finger above his lips.

This is.. wrong. You are in a relationship, right? You two shouldn't be doing this.

"Jake," you whisper his name with such mirth, "show me how much I mean to you.. please."

That was the last thing Jake needed, throwing out whatever rationality remained in his brain in exchange for the yearning that he desired for so many years.

He groaned when you willingly opened your mouth for him, allowing him to slip his tongue in, licking every corner of your cavern. You let his wet appendage graze your teeth before moving your own to clash with his. Both are battling for dominance in this erratic exchange of saliva which he inarguably won, and you couldn't keep your moans at bay when he sucked on your tongue.

Pressing his lips into yours once more, a heated make-out ensues with him leading the way, wrapping his arms around your waist and compressing you between his body and the door, wanting to lessen the distance. He wanted more, he needed more, and he sure as hell will make the most out of this.

He'll act as a clueless villain if it means that he'll be able to steal the most precious gemstone that's already owned by someone.

But who fucking cares?

How could one say that it's wrong when everything feels so right? No one is qualified to dictate shit when the pieces of the decimated past are starting to recoup themselves, turning into a masterpiece called a forbidden tryst.

"Keep it down baby, don't want your parents to barge in here don't we?" he muttered against your lips, head moving to your clavicle and you instinctively craned your neck to the side, giving him the permission to paint you with the most colorful hues of blue and purple.

Jake breathes through his nose, inhaling your rousing vanilla and strawberry fragrance. This is what he's ever dreamed of. You, in his arms, marking you as his and only his.

One rainy day, he woke up only to realize that he wanted to be the man to make you happy. He wanted to cook meals with you, travel around the world, take candid photos of you and set it as his wallpaper. He wanted to be the person that you'll meet at the end of the church aisle.

The recollection of when it started was totally blurry.

Was it when you cried over that dimpled man back during 8th grade? Or was it when he saw you in your ball gown for prom? He has no idea, but he does know that he's prepared to give and let go of everything just for you.

Jake clutches on your waist even tighter, nuzzling his nose in the nook of your neck and leaving lightweight kisses up to your mastoid. He smiled when he heard you giggle, biting your ear lobe teasingly, "Still ticklish I see."

You poked his side in retaliation, making him jump and shriek a bit, "So are you."

"Why you little-!" Jake carried you like a sack of potatoes, dropping you on the cushions haphazardly yet you felt his palm on the back of your head, acting as an insulation so the impact won't hurt you.

"You'll be sorry for that." he says with a smirk, wedging himself in between your legs, and before you could reply, he kissed you deeply, proceeding to attack your neck with pecks and bites, sucking in the spot that had you gripping his hair.

His hand started to explore your body, tracing your shape and going inside your shirt, stopping right under your boobs. Jake lifted himself off, his eyes speaking for himself, silently asking for consent if it's alright to remove your clothes.

You nodded and started peeling off the shirt, the fabric getting comically stuck on your forehead (that's what you get for wearing clothes from your junior high days). You both laughed at the witless situation, and despite all that, you felt him help you out of the predicament but not without leaving a kiss on the exposed lower half of your face.

When the shirt is finally out of the way, you hastily remove your shorts as well, leaving you in nothing but a pair of panties because yes, you did not put on a bra, finding it ridiculous to wear one inside your own house.

You suddenly felt conscious when you noticed that Jake was unmoving and you found yourself covering your upper body, a movement that made the boy snap out of his daze.

"No, baby don't cover up," he grins sweetly at you, gulping down his nerves, "sorry, you're gorgeous, I can't help but admire."

You bit your lower lip, glancing at him and tugging at his own clothes, "Then be fair, give me something to admire too." you shyly said, avoiding eye contact when you saw him grin.

Jake instantly shrugged every piece of his attire, baring his all to you, and your eyes almost popped out of their sockets because what the hell?

Of course you knew he was well built, his fitted outfits leave nothing to the imagination at times, but fuck you to the moon and back, you did not expect him to be this muscular. He has abs! For goodness sake, you weren't prepared, and it shows since Jake has to boop you in the nose to get you out of your daydream.

"I know the view is amazing," he gently laid you down, positioning himself on top of you, "but tonight is all about you, darling."

He pulled you in for another solid minute of make-out session, this time though, he touches you with more vehemence. Snaking his hand on your chest, gripping your left boob and lowering his head down to give the other the rightful attention it deserves.

You moaned his name when he suckled on your nipple, tongue circling around the areola and occasionally biting to add more to the sensation. He used his fingers to twitch and pull on the other nipple, his other hand trailing over your stomach, down to the navel until it reached your heat. He experimentally dipped a finger, gathering your juices and groaning at how wet you are for him.

"Baby, you're dripping and I've only done the bare minimum." he mutters, releasing your nipple with a pop and staring down at you with desire written all over his features, "You really want me that bad?"

"Yes Jake," you answered without any hint of doubt, "I want you, please, do something." you begged, and who was he to say no to his beautiful baby.

"Your wish is my command, princess." he grinned, going into full action as he slid down, coming face to face with your core.

Princess.

There was only one person who called you that. It should hit you by now that this is taboo... but it's just one night.

After this, you'll move on and act like nothing happened. Isn't it?

You weren't able to delve deeper into your thoughts when you felt a finger inside your pussy, a warm mouth lapping at your wetness and sucking on your clit harshly. Your back arches when another digit goes inside you, going at a moderate yet wonderful pace every time it curls and hits a spot that has you curling your toes.

"Right there!" you moaned, getting closer to your orgasm, Jake sensing this made adjustments to his ministrations, basically going into feral mode. His deft fingers pumped in and out of you vigorously, his sucking, add to that the small nips in your bundle of nerves are getting too much for you to handle.

"Cum for me." he uttered, and the mini encouragement and vibration from his voice had you undone within a few seconds. Gushing into his face which he happily guzzled on, not stopping until you told him to stop, sensitive from the overstimulation.

He went up to your face and you could see the shiny slick on his lips, "That felt good?"

You smile, pulling him in for a kiss, tasting yourself in his tongue, "Very much, but what about you?"

"Baby, didn't I tell you that tonight's all about you?" he shakes his head, using his own limbs to spread your thighs open, allowing him to slot himself in the middle, goosebumps rising on your skin when you feel his tip prod at your entrance.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you taunt, wrapping your legs around his waist, pressing him closer to your soaking cunt. "Take me, Jake."

You really have a way with words or maybe you have this effect on him like magic, whenever you talk, all he could think about is making you his.

Inch by inch, he inserted his big, fat cock inside you and you know, because you feel it. The way he stretches you out just the right way, the vein on the side of his dick pulses every time you clenched on him, and when he finally bottomed in, you both let out a sigh that you didn't know you were holding.

Jake grits his teeth, putting the tip in and he thinks he's crazy because it's just the head but your pussy is sucking him all in and it almost made him cum.

He calmed himself down, if he's intending to pleasure you as much as he could, he's sure as hell to make himself last longer than usual.

He lets you adjust to his length, taking in a slow pace when you whisper for him to move. Gently rocking his hips into yours, making sure that he wasn't hurting you in any sort.

Then you begged for him to move faster, harder, truly, you're making this more difficult than it's supposed to be. He could hardly contain himself, but the more you egged him on, the more he let loose.

"Ah!" you cried out when Jake did a rather ruthless thrust, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously and it was getting him drunk off of you. He got a taste of you, and it'll be difficult to stop. He rammed into you mercilessly, the creaking of the bed was the least of your concerns now as you're more focused on the delightful feeling he's giving you, unconsciously scratching his back.

Jake hisses at the pain, but it motivated him to no end, knowing that you love what he's doing to you right now. Knowing that the reason you're acting like this is because he's doing you, as of the moment.

Your warm, wet walls hugged his cock so nicely that it made him believe that your pussy is made for him. Truly, every time he pushes in, you get tighter and it feels like paradise.

Nothing matters but the hushed moans of his name on your lips, he doesn't care about anything other than how good you feel.

You weren't in a good condition either, you're losing grasp of what's real, drooling mindlessly at the delight you're receiving. The man on top of you gives it his all, fucking you with all his strength as his length hits all the perfect spots inside you, making your eyes roll and see stars at the back of your brain.

Jake really tried to hold on, but your sudden release made your walls squeeze his cock, a low groan coming out of him as he cursed and complimented you on how well you're doing for him.

"Baby, I'm close." he warned you, sweat forming on his forehead and dripping down to your cheeks, and he finds it so hot when you dart your tongue out to lick the salty substance away.

"Inside, Jake. Please come inside me."

"Are you sure?" he slowed down a bit, peering into your eyes for confirmation.

Then you cupped his face, smiling at him lovingly, "Yes, I trust you."

That was all it took for him to release his seed inside you, thrusting shallowly to ride out his high until he collapsed on top of you, rolling over and slipping out of your walls when you halfheartedly complained about how heavy he is.

He finally did it.

Jake felt like a champion, one chance was enough for him and he's thanking all of the deities out there internally for giving him the opportunity to show you the love he's been meaning to shower you with.

He felt his body stiffen when you laid your head on his chest, telling him to stay, but what terrified him the most was when he listened to your request and naturally wrapped his arms around you.

Jake focused on you, combing your hair using his fingers as he watches you drift into dreamland.

You look ethereal like this, glowing under the dim light of the street lamps outside and how he wishes for you to continue being with him like this until you're grey and old.

He'll slip out of bed later, (couldn't risk getting caught by your family in the morning), and write you a note to make sure that you won't feel like shit when you wake up. For now, he'll relish in the blanket of your warmth and even breathing.

The boy sighs, his hand moving to your back, fingers lightly tracing his name over your smooth skin, 'J A K E '

---------------------------------------------------

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but then Jake finds himself in your window again the next night, and you let him in every single time. The moment he steps inside your room, no more pretending, straight to kisses and you getting railed into your mattress.

It was like a routine you both fell into, but as much as the guilt gnaws on your conscience, it was too good to let go. A drug you couldn't get enough of, you both have fallen into this wild goose chase but it's very much late to back out.

That's what happens behind closed doors when the moon shines, the strenuous task begins during the day.

Seriously, how are you guys supposed to act in front of your family and friends when there is 'something' going on.

It was exhilarating though. Sneaking knowing glances across the room, sometimes with a matching wink, the subtle thigh touching, following each other into a room without any people just to steal smooches.

It was all fun and games until someone had to make the situation even more arduous, courtesy of your brother whining about going to the beach without your parents aka friendly bonding.

It should be easy, acting like normal best friends and playing around in the water but noo, of course even a simple hang-out would turn into a battle of 'the first one to gape like a fish loses.'

By all accounts, it never crossed Jake's mind that you'd be daring enough to wear a swimsuit that shows a lot of skin, because you're usually a conservative little girl. So he was astonished when you exited the changing room, sporting the sexiest red two-piece, shaking his head in disbelief when you discreetly threw a smirk on his way.

He knew you were playing a game, displaying your ass for him, swaying your hips while walking towards the chosen spot for today's hang-out.

Jungwon whistled, Sunoo made a surprised pikachu face, and Riki paid little to no attention to you when you sat down on the blanket with them, under a big umbrella that you rented out shielding you from the scorching sun.

"Is this what the city air does? I dig it." Jungwon says, giggling when Riki hollered in disgust, side-eyeing you before making a comment about how he'll smack Jungwon in the head if he remotely said anything like that again.

Jungwon raised his hands up in defense, looking over Sunoo's direction for assistance, "I was complimenting her! Help me out here, man."

Sunoo raised an eyebrow, doing his infamous googly eyes at his friend, "You did sound like a pervert there but yes, I'll agree that Y/N looks great." he turned to you and gave you a thumbs up, to which you returned with finger guns.

Jake quietly nursed his bottle of cold beer, not participating in the conversation until the three stooges pointed it out.

"Yoi, one beer is all it takes for you to go mute?" Jungwon mused, Riki followed up with the teasing, saying that maybe Jake hasn't been getting laid, thus, the cranky disposition.

"Wha-! No, lemme tell you that I've been getting it so well nowadays." he defended himself, but not without giving you an inconspicuous glance.

"I don't wanna hear your sexcapades," Sunoo stood up, pointing at the ocean excitedly, "I think it's time to play, no?"

The other boys agreed except for you, telling them that you want to take a look of the scenery first before joining them in the water.

"You sure?" Jake asked, and you gave him the positive signal and he shrugged, "Suit yourself."

It was his turn to make you flustered.

Now, you have seen the guy naked, but it was during lights out, not in broad daylight, so the gulping that you did was unplanned. Staring at him while he removed his plain tee, bearing his toned muscles and abs for you to ogle at.

You glared at him when he threw a smug look in your direction, thanking the gods that the other younger boys were oblivious as fuck, mainly, their priority was the race to the water because the loser will buy them milkshakes later.

"What are you playing at Jake?" you questioned, standing up from your seat and doing your very best to look at him square in the eye, forcing yourself not to look down.

"Baby," he says, walking closer to you, licking his lips when he focuses on your cleavage, "you started this didn't you? Make sure to finish it then."

You weren't able to utter another word when he walked away and joined the others in the sea like nothing even happened, like he didn't make your heart race with exhilaration.

You huffed, turning on your heels to ambulate around the area, unaware of Jake's predatory gaze on you.

You watched the soles of your feet sink into the sand, leaving footprints behind, your brain contemplating the whole scenario that is sure to bring a storm into the fragile house made of cards. Starting from when you and Jake began this.. affair. Then your thoughts drifted to Sunghoon, you mowed at the unearthly concept, your conscience punching you in the face.

Your boyfriend is probably out there, tiring himself out during practice, doing his best to improve his skating skills so he could show off and make you proud when he wins all the gold medals for his competitions. While you're here, doing the unimaginable with a man that is supposed to be just a friend.

You paused, hugging yourself as some kind of comfort. Maybe you missed Sunghoon so much that you unconsciously went and found some kind of intimacy, any kind of affection that will satisfy you while you're away from your lover.

Will you really put the blame on that? Yes, it's pathetic but you have already crossed an unforbidden threshold, a thorny one that bleeds you dry but the more you drown in it, the more you get hooked.

You shook your head, trying to get a clear vision of how this is supposed to end, too lost in your own thoughts that you didn't notice a pair that was trudging towards you, that is until their voices startled you out of your reverie.

"Uh yes? How may I help you?" you inquired cautiously, looking around just in case, and you felt stupid for not covering up because you can definitely feel their stares on your exposed skin.

"Relax pretty, we won't hurt you." the guy with a mullet spoke, smirking at you, the taller boy beside him nodded before adding a statement in.

"We noticed that you're alone, it's kind of dangerous here you know?"

"I'm a local, I know my way around here." you replied in a monotonous tone, letting them know that you're not interested in whatever they want to do with you.

"If you're a local," the mullet boy came closer to you, invading your personal space which made you frown and back up, "then how come that your face is not familiar?"

You took a deep breath, getting ready to shut them down when a towel was draped around you, a protective arm slinging on your shoulder and pulling you into a cast-iron body.

"Because she's keen on keeping her privacy, to avoid harrowing guys like you."

You'd recognize that voice anywhere, but you were surprised to hear such menacing articulation from him, very different from the usual sugary one that he always uses.

"Well hello to you too, Jake." the taller guy with brown hair greeted the aussie, a friendly smile on his face yet his passive-aggressive tone threw his calm demeanor away.

"Hello, EJ and Nicholas, didn't expect to see you here." Jake responds, matching the taunting attitude of the duo.

You clung to Jake, not minding the droplets of water if it means that you'll feel protected.

"Oh, is this your new bitch?" the one called Nicholas laughed, giving an amused applause and a low whistle, "You really have great taste, Sim."

You heard a low growl erupting from Jake's chest, his muscles tensing and you saw how he clenched his fist, getting ready to throw a punch if the need arises, "Don't you fucking disrespect my girl."

"Ah!" the ponyo look-alike named EJ mused, like a lightbulb went off in his brain, "Your girl? She's your girlfriend?"

"No way!" Nicholas sniggers, a surprise etched on his face, not believing what he was hearing, "A fuck boy like you settling down with a girl like her? That's some fucking news man."

One moment Jake was beside you, then he was gone, launching a full blown strike into Nicholas's face, and putting your scouts honor on the line, you’re sure heard something crack.

"Jake!" you cried out, fear creeping into you as you tried to simmer Jake down.

"A girl like her? A girl like her?! Fucking asshole, take that back!" Jake yells, about to attack the other man again but a divine intervention transpired, namely your brother and friends who came to the rescue.

They noticed that you two were gone for a while now, and thank god they decided to hunt for you both or something very bad might have happened.

"Oh my! Hey! Hyung, calm down!" Jungwon and Sunoo held Jake back while Riki got in between, helping Nicholas up, asking for forgiveness to deescalate the fight.

"Don't apologize to that asshole, he fucking disrespected your sister!" Jake shouts, breathing heavily through his nose, struggling to contain his anger.

Nicholas scoffs and wipes the blood from his busted lower lip, "I was stating a fact, that she is your bitch."

Silence ensues when Riki harshly shoves Nicholas, his friend EJ catching him before his ass makes contact with the sand. You've never seen your younger brother display an act of dominance before, rage brewing in his glare as he spoke in a threatening tone, "EJ, you're the sensible one here, get this fucker out of my face before I do something that we'll regret."

"This runt-" Nicholas was about to retort but he was dragged away by EJ, effectively stopping the brawl.

Jungwon and Sunoo sighed in relief, finally releasing Jake from their grip. Riki then went to you, softly patting you on the head as if he's saying that he's got you, that no one is allowed to mess with you except for him. Then he turned to Jake, "Thank you for defending her, hyung."

You all decided to go home after that incident, the mood totally ruined and you can hear the boys plot revenge as payback while you're changing, and you had to stop them right there.

As a compensation though, you and Riki invited them to stay for dinner, to which they happily agreed, not wanting to miss the opportunity of having free food.

When all of you stepped foot inside the reassuring space of your home, the sullen spirit from before was lifted up by some video games and snacks that your parents provided, letting you guys have fun while they prepare dinner.

You watched as Sunoo, Jungwon and Riki yell at the top of their lungs, accusing one another of cheating until one of them actually does it and everyone loses their minds. You laugh, then suddenly you were hyper aware of Jake's presence beside you on the sofa when his knee accidentally touched yours.

Your eyes discreetly slide over to his hunched form, the dim lights of the living room somehow highlights his sharp features even more, yet it made him look softer. You always had a habit of being obvious it seems since Jake turned to you with a questioning look on his face, silently asking you what's wrong.

You have to make up an excuse asap, and the lacerations on his knuckles provided the best one.

"I think we should treat that." you pointed at his hands, crummy reason but you'd stick to that rather than admit that you have been admiring him like a creep.

"Oh this? It's fine, it doesn't hurt that much." he looks at his knuckles, waving off your offer but you insist, telling him that it's the least that you can do after acting as your knight in shining armor in your damsel in distress. Thus, you find yourself alone with him in the bathroom, Jake sitting on the cover of the toilet while you rummage through the cabinet for the first aid kit.

"Found it, here." you ushered him to show his hand to you, placately tending to his wound, cooing at him like a mother hen whenever he hisses at the sting, making him chortle at the way you're acting. When it's all done, he thanked you, ready to leave but for some reason, you tugged him back to his position and placed your lips on his in a flash.

Jake was suddenly rigid, not really knowing how to react at first but he is nothing but a weak man when it comes to you, so he did what he does best, show you how much power you have over him, kissing you back as hard as he could. Then your next words made his head spin, like he's drunk off of you.

"I haven't thank you enough, Jake." you murmur against his lips, lowering your head to have your mouth reach the skin on his neck, sucking and biting it until you have left a visible mark. Your hands slithered over his clothed body, feeling his abs as you got on your knees for him, "Let me take care of you this time, hm?"

How can he even say no to you, he's going crazy right now. Your doe eyes begging to him, to let you pleasure him. Your silky voice calling him baby like he's the only boy you've ever called with that name. Your small hand on his crotch, palming him over his jeans. He couldn't say no to you.

"Go on then, I'm all yours." he rasps, relaxing his whole body and enjoying the show that you'll gladly perform for him.

You smiled and bit your lips, excitement coursing through your veins as you began to unbuckle his belt, lifting himself up to help you remove his pants and boxers so you could get to work.

His length sprung up a bit, having been freed from its constraints, still a bit soft but your mouth still waters from its sheer size. Your adventures with Jake always end up with him pleasuring you, never really giving you the chance to appreciate him like how you've always wanted.

You gently grabbed his manhood, your finger tracing the prominent vein on the side down to his balls, causing a sharp inhale from the man above you. You licked your lips, gazing at him from under your lashes, "What do you want me to do, Jake?"

God fucking shit.

Jake could cum just from your innocent teasing but he has to hold himself back, he must enjoy this, because he’s aware that this will be the best blow that he'll ever receive. He hasn’t experienced it, but he’s about to and if it’s you, he knows damn well that it will be out of this world. 

He takes hold of your hair, gathering your strands and creating a ponytail, letting you kiss around his crotch and groin, then he stops you with a rather harsh tug on your scalp.

"Take me baby, use that pretty mouth of yours, and only your mouth." he instructs, giving emphasis to not using your hands which you immediately obligue, massaging his balls with your tongue until he tells you to stop.

Jake went and grabbed his dick, the tip leaking with precum and had half the mind to smear it all over your glossy lips, "Spit on it, then use your hands."

He doesn't need to elaborate more as you collect whatever moisture you can get inside your mouth, spitting on his member and lathering it all over his cock, moving your palm up and down, the slick making your movements smoother.

He can't wait anymore, not when you're allowing him to do things to you. No more restraints as he grabbed your chin, your mouth forming an 'o' shape and gave you this look, quietly informing you that he's done playing. You nodded, finally taking him in your mouth and you couldn't help the pride that swells within you when he suppresses his groans.

You coughed up a bit when the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, some tears forming due to gag reflex, but Jake was unforgiving, whispering about how good you take him and that you should do more if you really wanted to thank him for everything that he's done for you.

You began to bob your head up and down, relaxing your jaw and hollowing your cheeks so you could take more of him, ignoring the pool of spit that formed on the corner of your mouth, letting it drip down your neck. 

You started off slow, gradually increasing the pace. You used the tip of your tongue to zone in on the smaller and more sensitive areas of his member, pausing the bobbing of your head so you could pay attention to his angry, red head. Wrapping your lips around it and sucking, like a child with a lollipop, slowly.. slowly, enjoying his grunts and praises about how good you make him feel.

Jake felt his dick twitch when you used your hand, wrapping it around the base of his cock, adding pleasure to the parts that couldn't reach your mouth (because he's big af), and he felt himself losing control, a small apology leaving his mouth before he sets the rhythm himself. Holding your head steady as he stood up, his manhood not leaving your mouth and he started thrusting mercilessly. His dominant side always gets to you, and he knows because he's hearing those gagged moans as he used you like his personal fuck toy.

"I'm close baby." he warns, and he looks down, and fucking hell, the image has been burned into his brain. Messy, you're basically crying and drooling around his cock, your hands helplessly holding onto his thighs for support while you struggle to breathe through your nose. 

Truly, the best view he's ever seen.

He staggers, not bothering to pull out of you, releasing his seed inside your mouth, not giving you a choice but to swallow all of it.

Jake exhales, satisfaction painted on his face while he slides out of your wet cavern, finally giving you the opportunity to catch your breath.

He knelt down in front of you, his forefinger smudged the strayed mixture of his cum and your saliva on your chin, swirling it around before inserting his digit inside your mouth, a smirk forming in his lips when you obediently sucked on it.

"That's my girl, now let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

---------------------------------------------------

"Bro, hey! Are you listening?"

Felix, one of Jake's friends from Australia snapped his fingers in front of the said man, breaking him out of his daze as he turned his attention from his phone to his friend.

"Pardon?" he asked, shiny eyes blinking while smiling innocently.

Felix rolled his eyes, pointing an accusing finger at the younger, "You've been fixated on your phone the whole day. Say, you're waiting for your girlfriend to text you, no?"

"I'm not!" he fights back, "And how many times do I have to say this, she's not my girlfriend!" he grumbles, running a hand through his hair.

Jake has always been a popular guy in this town, and obviously, after the incident at the beach, rumors fly through gossip faster than light.

"Jake and Y/N are together!"

That's what they all say, and as much as he loves the sound of you two dating, he's worried that the.. girls that he's been with might go crazy and attack you. He doesn't want you to get hurt, but all that he can do is deny everything. Heck, even Jungwon, Riki, and Sunoo helped in putting the baseless fire out.

"Doesn't look like it to me." Chan then interrupted the discussion, emerging from the kitchen with bottles of coke in his hand, setting it on the table and letting the other boys refresh themselves from the heat of the summer season.

"That's what I've been saying." the freckled boy agrees, finally having someone side with him.

Jake was about to retort again after gulping his sugary cola, but he stopped when he received a notification from you, saying that you need a ride and you're currently at the parking area behind the mall. He jumped from his seat, bamboozling his way out of his friends' apartment, bidding his friends a hasty goodbye.

Jake went back for a second, his head peeking from the door, "Oh and Felix." 

Said man was startled, pointing at himself with a confused look on why his name was called all of a sudden.

"Yeah you, to answer your question earlier. No, I won't be going to the club or party or whatsoever. Hooroo!" and he was gone.

The two boys who were left in the living room looked at each other and shrugged, "Not his girlfriend, he said."

---------------------------------------------------

You were near having a panic attack, who would've thought that going to the mall to buy a new dress (because your last one was sadly lost and never found), would cause such chaos?

Tons of girls are either asking you about how you got together with Jake and how lucky you are or just plainly wanting to pull your hair out for stealing their prince charming... and you had enough of their bullshit.

You stood there in the parking lot, waiting for the very main cause of your dilemma to come and pick you up. Just then, a familiar stygian Kia entered the empty lot, stopping right in front of you then Jake himself appeared right out of the vehicle.

You wanted to scream at him for causing you so much trouble but a lump was caught in your throat when you saw his disheveled appearance, clearly rushing here to get to you but still managed to look exceptionally good.

How can one look like a painting da Vinci himself made even when his hair is all over the place and the collar of his denim top was not fixed at all?

Fear not, only he, Sim Jaeyun, can pull it off.

"Y/N! Are you okay?!" he dashed to you, holding you by your shoulders and examining you thoroughly if you were hurt. He swears, if he sees one tiny scratch on you, he'll haunt whoever caused the damage.

You almost cried at how sweet he is, but you opted to bury your face on the crook of his neck instead, surprising him but he returned the embrace nonetheless, entwining his fingers on the strands of your hair and setting his chin atop of your head. Apologizing for whatever happened to you, knowing that he was the root of all of these.

"No," you detached yourself, staring down at your white sneakers and how it complements Jake's brown leather shoes, "I guess I was shocked because I was literally being mobbed in there. Felt like a celebrity for a second." you tried to joke about the situation but Jake remained sympathetic.

"What are you even doing out here?"

"Well, I still need a dress for the festival.. which is tomorrow."

Jake facepalmed, laughing at his stupidity because how could he forget?

He held your hand in his, tugging you with him and ushering you inside his vehicle. When asked where he was taking you, all he replied to you was giddy "Secret!"

Soon, you arrived at his flat, and you were awed because it's been too long since you visited in here. Certainly, it still looks the same and the memories came rushing in like a wave.

Running around the house, chasing Jake with a spatula because he thought it was a great idea to scare you while you were in the bathroom, planting an oak tree in his small backyard, making him promise to take care of it even if he’s hoary and hunched.

You followed him to the steps, a delicate smile on your lips when you saw the rust on his door, surely a sign of the aged building. Upon entering, a familiar border collie ran up to you, sniffing you before wagging its tail in pure joy, making you squeal because she remembered you.

"Layla!" you hugged the little bundle of joy, rubbing her fur zealously, "You've grown so much! I missed you!"

Hearing your voice must have set off something from the dog as she threw herself over you, basically begging to be babied like how you did before. And you are willing! Except that she’s hogging you, her whole weight pushed on you which made it hard to breathe. 

Jake, who was standing at the side, watching the wholesome interaction with glittering expression sensed your distress, "Layla! Come here!" he called the dog, using the treats that were stored as a way to entice the furry creature, which definitely worked.

"Sorry about that, she gets excited really easily." Jake went to you and helped you up when Layla was busy with her snacks, "Told you she really missed you." he adds, making you chuckle.

"I can see that. Well, what do you need to do that requires you to kidnap me here?" you asked, gazing at him curiously which made him nervous.

"Right." he scratched the back of his neck, giving you a sheepish grin, "Would you mind if I go to my room for a bit?"

You puckered your lips in curiosity but didn't question him any further, telling him that it's fine and that you'll wait. When he got out of his room, he was holding a pink paper bag, shyly walking up to you and handing you the item.

"What is this?" you accepted the bag, fishing whatever it was residing in there, then your eyes shimmered in recognition, hastily pulling it out and an attire was presented to you.

An elegant, satin red dress. An outfit that looked exactly like the one that you were eyeing back when you were 15, the age where you wanted to act like a model or some actress, and the red dress in a catalogue made you feel like you could reach such dreams.

"Do you want to try it?" he asks and you nod your head, heading towards the bathroom, leaving Jake and his nerves for him to calm. But you wouldn't let him, how could he when you got out of the toilet wearing the shade of autumn that represents all of his thoughts and emotions for you.

You walked closer to him, merrily twirling around to show off, "What do you think?" you look at him expectantly, skittish for his reaction.

Jake gave you a once over, hands in his pockets as he raked in your appearance, from your head to toe, and he tried his best to come up with a coherent answer. "You are," he inhales, removing his hands from his pockets and throwing it up in the air and placing it on either of your shoulders, "ethereal."

His heart beats strangely fast, which is a natural occurrence whenever he's with you. It always happens whether he likes it or not, something that he has no control over. He fixes his gaze into your gorgeous eyes and he soaks in them. 

Everyday he swims to the thoughts of you, diving deep into the complexity of his feelings and hoping that when he ascends, you'll finally be able to see him in a different light.

"Say Y/N, would you like me to chaperone you during the fiesta?" he queries, and you couldn't help but laugh at his old method of asking you to be his date for the party.

You gathered his hands on your shoulders and held them into yours, transferring your warmth into his own skin as opposed to the cool air that starts to surround the house due to the darkening of the skies outside and the whirring of the air-conditioner, "I would love to."

Then your phone sets off, what a way to ruin the moment but you were pulled back into reality when you saw the caller.

"I'll be right back." you gave the man a tight smile, trudging down the hallways and out to the backyard to give yourself some privacy, unbeknownst of Jake's footsteps that followed you due to your anxiousness, but he made his presence hidden, and his blood boiled when he realized who it was that you're talking to.

He heard snippets of the conversation, and as much as he knows that he's in the wrong, the jealousy rises up to his stomach unprovoked, choking him until he's out of air.

"Yes, Hoonie, I'm having the best time here."

Best time because he's with you, making you feel like you're the only woman in the world.

"I do, I'll send you a photo of the dress soon."

The dress that he personally bought.

"Alright, take care. Uh-huh, love you too, my figure skating prince."

Well, that's fucking it.

The green eyed monster got the best of him, rage seeping through his bones and.. and he thinks he needs a glass of water to settle down. He runs to the kitchen, reaching for his favorite mug and filling it with ice cold water, letting it run down his throat and he wishes he could just dump it down on his brain to cool off the fiery envy that swiftly creeps up on his whole being.

He jumped a bit when you called his name, startling him when you were there, standing by the kitchen door with concern gracing your features, "Are you okay? Is something wrong? You don't look too good."

A barrage of questions and he answered it all in his brain in fear of saying something that might potentially hurt you.

Is he okay? No.

Is something wrong? A lot. You. Him. This. Whatever the fuck this is.

He doesn't look good? That’s where you're wrong. He always looks good.

His internal battle and fuming facade had you worried, taking steps closer to him in an attempt to console him. He was fine a few minutes ago, now he’s acting like this? 

The moment you stepped into his sanctuary, touching him on his biceps, all his walls broke down and he immediately pulled you closer to him, connecting your lips together in a hot, messy, searing kiss.

He held you by your waist and you automatically wrapped your arms around his neck, granting him the license to trap you between his sturdy body and the marbled counter.

On the other hand, when your boyfriend called you, taking in his soft voice, his longing words. Hearing him tell you how much he misses you and how everything will be easier only if he has you by his side.. and his never ending canadian pancake jokes, this time with maple syrup.

It reminds you that you are taken, but you let yourself fool around for too long and you're stricken with guilt. Sin written all over your heart and soul because Sunghoon's own heart was getting broken without him even knowing and Jake's will sooner or later be shattered as well.

You walked back inside the building, determined to put an end to this fallacy as soon as possible. You've let yourself fall into the rabbit hole, and you believe that you have been only missing your other half to the point where you willingly rekindled an old flame, thinking that this summer thing would be the answer to your loneliness.

But you proved yourself wrong yet again when you let yourself be submerged into Jake's honeyed touches and spicy kisses.

You couldn't simply say no to him, not when every crevice of your body has been explored by him, savored and shaped to perfection exactly to his liking.

You moaned his name when his hand massaged your boobs over the thin dress, his thumb adding slight pressure to where he's sure your nipples are located. His tongue never stopped invading your mouth, asserting dominance that you've never seen from him before.

He hoisted you up the counter, spreading your legs for him to slot his tiny waist in, and when the need for oxygen was needed, you both parted ways and the string of saliva between your lips made the tips of yours ears red.

Jake's heated gaze had you embarrassed, his left hand on your thigh started moving, deft fingers tracing faint lines on your skin and you barely made out the words.. 'M I N E.'

You were inclined to return his stare, and all you could do was to revive the long forgotten yearning that you had left a year ago, everything that has been existing inside his hazel orbs.

There were a lot of uncertainties. What if you didn't leave your small town to pursue a city life? What if you stayed here instead? Will the changes be different like how things were right now?

No lingering stares across the room, no skinships concealed by friendship, no more denying of what you two really are because.. fuck this all. Friends do not know the taste of each other, a simple platonic relationship doesn't give you a whole orchestra playing Taylor Swift's Wildest Dreams like that one scene in Bridgerton.

No, friendship doesn't make you feel like you're in heaven but love does.

This was supposed to be a one time summer fling, when the leaves turn into the color of wine that you had been nursing late at night, a past time that you developed whenever you're troubled about what you're really going through with Jake; you shall leave it all behind.

You will, but for now, the necessity to bury yourself in Jake's iridescence is your utmost priority.

You pulled him in again for a kiss, this time with a plan.

"I don't think this will reach the bedroom." he murmurs, his hands all over your body as he tries to feel you more, palms finally back on your thighs to lift your dress up, revealing black laced panties that had him groaning and inevitably, harder down there.

You giggled, pecking his cheeks while you started to unbutton his denim shirt, tracing your fingers over his golden skin, "I don't mind, do whatever you want. Also, leave this on." you say, admiring his chiseled muscles under his top.

He curses under his breath, you really know how to rile him up. You know him too well, and he's down bad for that.

Jake has always been a good boy, and he doesn't need to be told twice. If you told him to do whatever, then he'll do just that. First, he plans to fuck you in that tiny little red dress.

His hand traveled to your panties, chuckling when he felt a wet spot in the middle, his middle and forefingers playing with it, "Damn baby, haven't done anything yet you're this wet?"

You whined at his teasing, moving your hips for more friction but Jake pulled away, causing you to protest which seemed to please him, given by his smug countenance. He clicked his tongue and raked in your appearance, in a complete disarray and he's glad that he can affect you this much.

"I need you to be patient, baby. Can you do it for me?" he mumbles, voice dropping a pitch lower and it makes you wetter because it's so damn hot, not like his predatory leering helps your condition. Although, as much as you wanted to test his leniency, you decided to listen to him this time around, sitting still and watching him do his thing. 

Your obedience greatly pleased the man, leaning down to give you a peck on your top lip, lightly nibbling on it before pulling away. 

His hands move on your arms for a second, moving up to your shoulders. His calloused palms, probably from doing sports and playing the violin, are clement against your smooth skin, goosebumps running along the path that was traced. 

Jake seems to be in a trance, hyper fixated on your body as he glides the straps down, guiding your arms so he could remove them through the straps, causing the upper portion of the dress to get loose in the process. 

The action reveals more of your supple chest for him to gawp and you let out a gasp when Jake buried his face on your cleavage, trailing smooches on your chest and when he can’t take it anymore, he straightens himself up and he completely removes the bodice of the dress. 

He takes the initiative to bring your bodies closer together, spreading your thighs wider and bunching the dress on your waist, until his hard on can be felt on your clothed womanhood. 

Jake then resumes his ministrations, hands going over your belly, outlining your rib cage and his fingers traces the shape of your breasts, the sensations are building up fast and the agitation is starting to get to you. You made that apparent when you wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him closer to give him a silent signal of where you want him to touch you. 

He only chuckles, dipping his head near your jawline to trail kisses over it, reaching your ears and whispering sly statements, “We’ll get there, princess. Hold on tight and enjoy the ride, okay?” 

“But Jake..” you whined and he shuts you up with a filthy, open-mouthed kiss where his tongue dominates your mouth, he takes that as an opportunity to engulf your boobs into his large hands, tenderly kneading and squeezing, tracing your areola in the process to make you squirm. 

You moan into his mouth when his fingers rub your erect nipples slowly, increasing in speed and pressure as seconds go by. Your moans getting louder when he adds some twisting and pulling, pleasurable but not enough to cause pain. 

Jake can’t help the groan that escaped him due to your incessant grinding, directly stimulating both of your lower areas. Your damp panties have been clinging on your pussy, your juices soaking even his jeans, specifically the area of his raging boner. 

Jake disconnects from the liplock, observing your tousled appearance and despite his wobbly vision, he can confidently say that you’re insanely otherworldly. 

The vermillion tint on your cheeks, blown-out pupils and bruised lips. Truly, the epitome of the goddess of beauty, his one and only. 

“Jake?” you questioned, in a hazy stupor with your labored breathing, “What happened?” 

Jake shakes his head, leaning down to rub the tip of his nose on yours, giving you a butterfly in the stomach-inducing feelings, “Just that you’re gorgeous.” 

He chuckles when you squeaked at his compliment, removing his hands from your boobs in lieu of grabbing your ass, further pressing you on his hardness before leaning down on your chest, his warm breath hitting your mounds that had you shuddering. 

You clutched on his shoulders for support when he began sucking on your nipple and gyrating on your covered wetness. You felt him flatten his tongue on your boob, covering an ample surface, turning into the hardened edge of his wet appendage flicking the nub repeatedly. 

A brave lioness is what you are, primed for battles and victory yet you are nothing but a lady in desperate need of release in Jake’s presence and skillful tongue. 

Soon enough, when your clit has been prodded far too many times by the rough fabric of your undergarment and your erected buds have also reached their limit, your back arched in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you like waves. 

Jake continued his movements, ceasing only when you whine in overstimulation. 

“My baby did a good job.” Jake praises you, patting your head and smoothing the bird’s nest on top of it. A spent smile is painted on your face, slumping onto the tiled countertop to catch your breath, then your eyes almost bulge out of its sockets when you hear Jake say that you’re not done yet.

He merely raised an eyebrow, getting rid of his pants and personally manhandling you into a position of his liking but is also comfortable for you. He pushed your panties to the side, too impatient to remove it and lining the tip of his leaking cock in your entrance. 

“I still haven’t cum yet, princess.” he mutters, holding your thighs apart as he plunges into you, inch by inch, “You’ll help me, right?” 

You nod your head, hands going over to his chest and he immediately grapples it in his, groaning in pleasure when your gummy walls sucked him in, but he held the overwhelming urge to do it one go as he wanted to feel you in the most intimate way. 

“That’s my good girl.” he moans, bottoming out of you. He stays motionless for a few minutes, giving you adequate time to adjust. Then he started moving, freeing your hands to grip the sides of your hips, his pace was tamed at first but he went feral when you beseech him for more. 

His thrusts gradually escalate, fast-moving and solid, making you feel so full. Every drag of his member on your slick creates squelching sounds mixed with your mewls, it rings in your eardrums, and the result is you getting wetter. 

You’re basically lathering his counter and skin with your juices but Jake couldn’t care less, frowning in concentration as he does his best to pleasure both of you. 

“Don’t stop.” you mumble along with other incoherent sentences, his darkened eyes glimmered, ramming inside you with all his might, adjusting a bit so he’s able to hit your sweet spot, and when he finally hits it, his reward is your chants of his name. 

“Don’t worry, babe.” he grunts, tilting to match your face to grace you a saccharine kiss, his pace unrelenting and merciless, not wasting any minute as he bullies into your wetness without any care in the world, “I don’t plan on stopping.” he mumbles against your lips.

The knot in your belly gets tighter each time his cock grazes your g-spot and you purposefully clenched around him, causing him to unconsciously dig his nails into the flesh of your thighs. 

The euphoric feeling was too much for you to handle, closing your eyes and dumping your head on his shoulder. 

Jake’s gasps and low grunts are echoing in your head, slightly opening your eyes when you feel a rather pleasant yet burning sensation, realizing that he’s rubbing your clit. Adding onto the stockpiling gratification. 

You heard Jake curse, expressing how breath-taking and marvelous you are, in every aspect and facet. You tried peeking at him in spite of your incoming cloud nine, and in your drunken stupor of paradise, your enticement towards his sweaty neck invoked you to lean in and suck on his skin. 

Jake moans in delight, a specially harsh thrust was given to you in the process, taking you by surprise as it strikes the perfect site that had you tingling and creaming all over his member. 

You accidentally bite a bit too hard on his neck, marginally leaving teeth marks that’ll surely take at least a few days to heal. 

Jake’s hips stuttered, groaning rather gutturally at your dripping, warm cavern’s involuntary clenching, seizing his cock and as much as he wishes for the intercourse to carry on for a little longer, he has also reached his limit. 

He releases his seed inside, painting your walls white and warming your core. He keep his languid strokes to ride your highs, halting when the dopamine dies down.  

The smell of sex drifts in the kitchen. Sweaty, hot, satisfaction and fulfillment surrounds the place. Both of your strained breathing reiterates the events that have transpired. 

You made the first move, lifting your head from his shoulder and pushing his sweaty locks that got stuck on his forehead, smiling at him giddily, “That was amazing.” 

He wheezes at your pronouncement, “I know. You are amazing.” 

“Why is it always me?” you complain, not accepting his never ending praises towards you. Besides, it wasn’t you who’s doing all the work in your.. endeavors. 

“Because,” he engulfs your hand in his, kissing your knuckles and fingers one by one, “that’s what you are. Amazing.” 

You roll your eyes at his flattery, then the joy you’re feeling turns into sorrow when he pulls out of you, some of his cum oozing out of your hole. The emptiness nearly made you whine but you fight off the impulsive thoughts of doing so. 

After cleaning up and making sure that you’re presentable for other people to see, Jake offered to take you home and you accepted. Throughout the ride, you two are singing at the top of your lungs, ranging from love songs to rock songs, tittering when the other’s voice cracks. 

When you’re finally home, you are reluctant to separate with him, but he assured you that he’ll see you tomorrow. As he should because he is your date for the event. 

Bidding goodbyes was a herculean task, managing to do it when your parents themselves went out of the house due to their anxiety at the car parked in front of the house for 10 minutes. 

You steer away from your family’s curious questions, telling them that you are tired (the truth) and you crave some alone time to rejuvenate. 

 It is a very particular day, like you two have discovered something new that veered your social link to a blithe yet brooding one. The possible consequences of your poor decision-making was washed away by fatigue, thoughts of Jake and the excitement of tomorrow’s event lulling you to a dreamless yet deep sleep.

---------------------------------------------------

You watch the youngsters run and jump in thrill at the vibrant and bright atmosphere of the location for the town’s long awaited celebration, sighing through your nose but  still laughing at their energetic vibes. 

“Takoyaki!” Riki exclaims, nudging his friends and quite literally yowling at them when they disagree at his suggestion.

“I want some candied apples.” Jungwon points at a certain stall, Sunoo’s eyes following suit and the smile that he’s sporting is the biggest you have ever seen. (desserts do have that kind of effect, maybe that’s why they always have a room in the stomach.) 

“Really? So early in the evening and you want sweets?” the tallest among the guys deadpans, turning to you for help, “Knock some sense into these idiots.” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, nonchalantly waving Riki off, “Put on your big boy pants and deal with it.” 

You ignore your brother’s bleating, facing Jake who is beside you the entire time and fretting over the fact that your mother and father left you to look after the boys to have their ‘alone time.’ 

“Jake?” you called for his attention when you noticed that he wasn’t responding to your hardcore yapping, only to find him immersed at you. 

“Jake? Is something wrong?” the thumping in your chest accelerates as he peers at you with dreamy eyes, permeating with fondness and yearning. You are not entirely sure on how to react, standing there like a statue until the man in front of you scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry.” he laughs bashfully, “You are simply glowing, a rare jewel. I can’t stop admiring you.” he admits and the blush on your cheeks darkened. 

Your appearance is not something to be confident at, you look decent at best if you say so. 

You wore the red dress that Jake gifted you, paired with rubber shoes of the same hue. Your hair is styled in a dutch braid, decorating your strands with various pins and ribbons for the aesthetic, and finally, a natural make-up for added radiance. 

You literally see no reason for him to goggle at you, but then again, you can’t and don’t perceive yourself in Jake’s point of view. You’d be shocked if you learned how angelic you are in his world. 

In Jake’s standpoint, the tinge of cerise complements your sublime beauty like no other. It brings out the tincture of your eyes, the carmine of your cheeks, the cherry of your lips and it greatly enhances your flushed complexion. A mermaid you resembled because of your hair, relatively constructing an illusion of enchantment.

That is why he cannot fully fathom why you’re denying his words, simply because Jake is confident about it. He frankly believes that there is no other like you— unparalleled and stellar. 

“Be serious for once.” you say, thwacking his shoulders with a snigger.

Jake frowns, facing you and catching your hand in his, he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a shrilling voice, one that had you reeling in consternation and abhorrence. 

“Well, well, well. The power couple has revealed themselves.” 

Great, the night is young and it’s already ruined by none other than..

“Chaewon.” Jake utters her name with such revolt, shielding you from her as he protectively shifts you behind him, “What do you want?”

“You wound me.” she places a hand on her chest, faking a sad expression before she wheezes and narrows her overly eye-shadowed eyes in your direction, “Hello again, Y/N. Won’t you come and greet me as well?” 

Your whole body trembles when you hear her call your name in a sweet, sickening manner with an underlying condescending tone. It wreaks havoc in your supposed to be zen state, the rain in your glossy orbs threatens to fall any minute the more the interaction is prolonged. 

Jake senses your dilemma, and he knows that he has to do something, anything to not let this get out of control. He needs to wrap this up asap. 

“Chaewon!” Jake roared, seething and perturbed, “Get out of here while I’m asking nicely.” 

The girl hoots in laughter, obnoxiously even, holding onto her tummy, “You’re hilarious, Jake. Why are you acting like nothing happened between us?” 

Time seemed to come to a pause at her revelation. Surely, that wasn’t what she said, right? 

You must be mistaken because Jake? The boy that you trust the most, the only person who is aware of your trauma towards Chaewon’s wrongdoings.. something transpired between them? 

Your head that is hanging low amidst the whole ordeal tilts to spare the girl a glance, which you shouldn’t have because you have now witnessed the most gut-wrenching sight: Chaewon wearing the white dress that was supposed to be yours. 

She peeks and notices your gaze on her, whirling around to show-off with a haughty smirk, “Pretty isn’t it? I’m really happy that Jake gave this to me.” 

“Jake gave that to you?” you whisper, and like a bat with supersonic hearing, she makes-out what you just said without any problem.

“Yeah!” Chaewon giggles, and she dropped the bomb that exploded all over your conviction and solidarity, “I mean.. From all the nights me and Jake have spent in his bed, I think it’s only natural for him to give me some gifts.” 

Your eyes widened in anguish, meeting Jake’s with resentment. You don’t even need to explain yourself, your betrayed expression articulates all the emotions that are fermenting in your being, spoiling the gaiety and leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

You bitterly tugged your hand, grimly retiring in this shithole wordlessly. Jake’s pleas were blocked out as the ringing in your ears is too noisy, currently focusing on how excruciating it is to wear your rose tinted glasses.

Seeing in a bird's eye view, the earthquake of indulging in your desires, the red flags; rejecting the clues and signals in place of shooting stars and red roses.

There is nothing wrong with harboring intense, burning feelings for someone. There is nothing wrong about it except…

You choked back a sob as you stood still in the middle of some empty street, covering your mouth with your palm while you used your free arm to hug yourself, a coping mechanism to the either the cold breeze or the icy realization of your own breach of trust.

To the person that you are tied to. The lover whose heart is reserved for you but here you are, cracking his entirety unbeknownst to him. 

Truth to be told, you are apprehensive about the entirety of your solstitial days. You are no doubt in the utopia of cloudy marshmallows and lustrous sequins, such vista is brought to you by your paramore, Jake. 

Your affairs are not accepted by society, deemed illegal by the law and an unforgivable misdeed by the gods. Yet you couldn’t, for the hell of it, deny the fact that you are over the moon, spending time with your revived ardor that you thought had passed away. 

Reflecting on your decisions brings you on a disparaging trip to guilt land, your sins are not reasonable, will never be decipherable but love has always been like that, isn’t it?

Working in mysterious ways, playing with fate and destiny, using cupid as its puppet and people’s heartstrings as marionettes until it cooks up its desired results. 

But must it be so ferocious? 

You are having a meltdown, drowning in these poisonous thoughts when a distant voice clears your smoggy psyche. 

“Y/N!”

---------------------------------------------------

Jake fumbled. He fucked up. So bad. 

He was motionless for a minute, wide eyed and panicking as the noise around the ongoing celebration helped him block the cringe-y voice of the girl, whose presence if he must say, is irking as hell. 

He watches as your lovely figure walks further away, getting smaller the more distance you put between you, and it’s nauseating. The agony was fucking too much, not foreseeing the events.

He was meant to be with you the entire night. Eating delicious foods from the stalls, winning you a giant teddy bear, watching the grand fireworks whilst he kisses you under the radiance of the natural and artificial stars. 

And whose fault is this? 

Jake turns to the culprit, her innocent facade pissing him off to no end.

“What the fuck, Chaewon? Have you finally lost your marbles? Didn’t I tell you to leave me the fuck alone?!” he yells, his emotional intelligence gone because the mere thought of losing you is not worth the effort of suppressing his anger. 

“What?” she asks, crossing her arms in disdain, “I only came here to say hi and to show the dress.” 

The scene appears to catch the attention of the bystanders around them, and multiple pairs of eyes scrutinize the pair, which is not good for the sake of it all. 

Jake inhales, praying to anyone out there to give him the patience that he’s currently lacking, “How many times do I have to say that I’m not interested in you? We fucked once and I was drunk! That’s the end of the story!” 

“So fucking around with Y/N is better? Have you forgotten that she has a boyfriend? You really want to spend your precious summer with a whore?” she rebuts, and what she labeled you was the last straw. 

He ruthlessly gripped her arms, no caution nor forgiving, “Listen here, you do not call Y/N a whore ever again. She is so much better than you and,” Jake scoffs, eyeing her with disdain, “you do not even come close to her level. So, I would really fucking appreciate it if you zip your shitty mouth, or else I will make your life a living hell.” 

Jake lets her go, clenching his fists and hiding it inside his pockets, glaring at the teary-eyed woman but he certainly does not fucking care. She can bawl her eyes out and spread gossip about him, but he won’t let any disrespect towards you pass. 

He turns around, quickly changing plans as he thinks of ways on how to make things up with you, but before that, he took a shot of belittling the girl, “Now that I see it, that dress is ugly as hell. You can keep that, it's only beautiful if Y/N wears it.” 

Jake then runs off, in a mission to find you. 

---------------------------------------------------

“Y/N!”

It took you a minute to process what’s happening. One moment you are alone and the next second you’re engulfed in a warm hug. Must be a divine intervention or something, your knight in shining armor coming in at the right time to save you from the sorrows of your own faults. 

You pushed him away rather forcefully, vigorously wiping the remnants of your tears away but Jake has seen it either way. 

He cups your face, mellowly speaking, “Please don’t cry, baby-”

“Stop!” you cried out, placing your hands on his chest to put a tiny gap in the middle, a feeble attempt at refusing his support, “Stop calling me that if you don’t mean it. I-I.. Please, I want to be alone.”

You’re beginning to go into hysterics, sobbing uncontrollably now that you have been slapped by reality. 

“I don’t want you to be alone, and,” Jake steeled himself, not accepting your rejection, “I mean it. You are my baby so please Y/N, let’s talk this out.” 

You shake your head, struggling against his firm hold. The complexity of the whole situation embroiders dark threads in your snowy fabric, commencing the madness in you, and you’re so damn afraid if you’ll be able to surpass this test. 

“Jake, I don’t want to- Please, stop, I can't do this anymore.”

You are too busy wallowing in despair that you failed to notice Jake’s terror stricken guise. All of his brain cells are working overtime to think of something, anything to dissuade your incoming rash verdict about your.. circumstances with him.  

Jake slides his palms onto your shoulders, lowering his forehead down the crook of your neck, shutting his eyes and relaxing for a second. 

It’s now or never.

“You can’t do this anymore while I've been here, doing it ever since.” he mumbles, decibels reaching your ears and it makes you confused.

You stay rooted in your spot, listening to his shallow breaths, “Doing what?” 

“This Y/N.” he lifts his head up, meeting your weeping orbs as his lower lips tremble, wavering and hopeless mien, “I did not pursue Australia for the sole reason of staying here, because I thought that you’d continue college in this town.” 

Wait. You are the reason?

“I wanted to be with you, then I learned that you applied to a university in the city and I was too late. I wasn’t able to go with you because I hesitated. And that was the biggest mistake that I will forever regret.”

Jake didn’t give you the time to butt in, he prattled on and on, explaining and disclosing every bit of information that you have to know.

Chaewon and him did have a history, but he was drunk and was in need of some sort of intimacy because all he did was miss you while you were gone. Yes, shitty excuse but that was the truth. He apologizes hundreds of times for that, verbalizing that he avoids her like the plague after their one time encounter, and that she’s the one who kept on persisting in a relationship with him. 

He doesn’t want to do shit with her and he is willing to spend a lifetime making it up to you if it means that you’ll forgive him. 

You mutter his name in hopes of cutting his reverie to tell him that it’s okay. That he doesn’t need to be unfair to himself and that you also have made an awful blunder yourself. So, you tried again but then he blurted out the words that rewired your verdict.

“Y/N, I love you. I am so fucking in love with you. You inhabit my day, possess my nights and I-”

You finally placed your lips on his, shutting him up for good. You can’t contain your selfishness anymore, and you’re going to hell for it.

“Jake, I understand.” you whisper against his lips, “No more talking. Just kiss me.” 

And he did. A passion filled kiss in the dimly lit middle of the road, and soon enough the two of you are giggling out of your wits, running towards his flat to savor each other beneath the raving moon and stars. 

Ablaze sheets and shushed confessions of affection, lustful chants of pet and nicknames, hot and ponderous breathing. Lips molding, tongues dancing, limbs intertwining — love was made multiple times that night. 

Jake felt his turbulent ambitions being nurtured into a calm sea. 

When he holds your sweaty body close to his after the last of the many rounds of ardent copulation, he pecks the crown of your head, thinking that he’s got you. 

Imagine the bewilderment and fretfulness that he undergoes when the next morning, he wakes up and you’re not by his side. The slot beside him is where you’re meant to be. 

So, why are you not here?

He is like a thundercloud, fixing himself up and taking a dangerous, speedy trip towards your house only to gain the certitude that you have left. 

“Yeah, she came back home during dawn, grabbing her suitcases and catching the earliest train back to the city. She didn’t say anything to us, just that she needs to go back as soon as possible.” Riki clarifies groggily, your brother rubbing his eyes sleepily, overlooking Jake’s fall from grace. 

He thanks the younger and when the door is shut, he’s out. 

He was in a sinking boat the whole fucking time, his white knuckle grip on the handles was useless as he’s the only one dying with it. 

You, his gospel, are once more absent to guide him, and he is left alone to fend for himself. 

Jake enters his car in a daze before laughing to himself, beyond miserable and breaking down. You can’t even be bothered to give him an acrid goodbye. Was he not worth the time? Was he not worth it? 

He slams his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes going over the hidden compartment where the bracelet with your initials sits. Looks like he won’t be able to give you that, no?

“What do we do now, Sim Jaeyun?” 

---------------------------------------------------

Your sudden disappearance deeply troubled Jake. His gut tells him not to contact you first, listening to his intuitions and twiddled on his thumbs. 

He waited for a call, message, anything to let him know that you have not abandoned him, but not once did he receive one. A complete dissonance and in a flash, the pigments in his face that you have sprayed were drained. 

He prayed for a sign to the deities because he’s tired of waiting, ‘Give me a reason to stop chasing after her.’

And what he asks, he gets. 

One day, when he was rolling around in his bed, stalking your social media, he saw that you updated on instagram. He immediately opened the app, but he was crushed like an insect at what he saw.

It was a photo of you and your boyfriend. Seems like your ‘ice skating prince’ won a tournament, no trophies at hand since his prize is already in his arms— you. 

Jake lies down on his back, his arms covering his eyes and he lets the salty tears that he’s been keeping at bay for the longest time freely stream down. He granted himself the license to cry this time, to have a moment of weakness as he grieves at the newly formed memorabilia of adulation and picturesque remembrance.

You should have at least given him some sort of magnanimity, a heads-up perhaps? 

Yes, it was necessary so he could’ve commenced the digging of the graves. One for his dying gray heart and one for his wilted, parched crimson roses. 

Jake is no stranger of the naked truth, that he was the other guy in the portrait. The snake and not the proprietor but even for a trifling moment, despite the bleak and slim chances, he believed that the silver lining exists. 

He was so sure that the inkling sentiments, skinship, companionship throughout the summer would mean something to you.. If not, then why would you be so cruel to give it to him? Why would you be so heartless to let him think that he could win against someone that is unrivaled when it comes to a space in your heart and life? 

He spilled his booked sentiments, you let him savor you, allowed him to follow you to the depths of nowhere only to pull back at the last minute, leaving him stranded at the end of the cliff. 

So he did what must be done. He jumped in the deep, dark ocean of precariousness. Hoping that at the end of his expedition, a treasure would be waiting for him. 

Jake did find fortune alright; rusted, grotesque, and counterfeit. 

He was a deep-dyed, utter fool. Pathetic at its finest for falling for a person he could never, ever have. 

Indeed, a complete defeat. What was the name of the victor again? Ah, right.

Park Sunghoon. 

taglist:

@deobitifull @dreamiestay @shiningnono @anormieee

[politicalunicorn]

Thoughts on Captain America: Brave New World

It wasn't that bad. Lots of people are saying that it sucked, and yes, I was hoping they would do something more interesting with the adamantium but c'est la vie.

The villain was definitely really scary. I think the direction choice of showing us individual people that The Leader was killing is arguably one of the best choices. I found several moments where I genuinely looked at the screen and gawked.

That being said, the villain felt almost cartoonish. Like? C'mon. that phone call with Ross was just... it felt like a my little pony villain, bsfr

JOAQUINNNN MY BABY!!!! We have been LACKING for Peter Parker-coded characters, and he is definitely one of them. I love the way people are calling him baby falcon, bc yes, but also the mentor-mentee relationship between him and Sam???

On that relationship, Sam and Joaquin have the relationship of siblings with a massive age difference. Like eight years at least. Joaquin idolizes Sam and Sam is fond of him, but teases him as well. It's just so cute.

SamBucky nation is winning. Enough said. The I love you was one thing but the "He's also 102 years old" like, ok??? gatekeeping your man?? ok, I see you Sam <3

I did not empathize with Thaddeus Ross. Maybe, if they made him a shittier father, yes I would get the whole new leaf thing. But making his entire arc of bs in the last fifteen years be about Betty was just...not it. Make him have more to prove.

Also the writing of the phone call? Please. I know Marvel writers can do better than that.

this is just a problem with film-making in general, but marinate in the silence. a lot of life is silence, real-life exists in the margins of conversations. like that conversation between Bucky and sam could've definitely had that silence to really pull that impact.

the fight scenes tho??? that was so good, that was acc such good choreography, OBSESSED.

Bucky as a congressman is something that I really like, but was unexpected. I can totally imagine him trying to make the world a better place, but we're probably going to get that guilt-complex justification that marvel always pulls with Bucky.

The Isiah arc?? that line of "Don't Come Back" was SO good. Also, his face when he was shoved into the ground and his cries about his suit, was HEARTBREAKING. just absolutely gorgeous. arguably the best acting performance.

Sabra??? Kind of unnecessary??? like, the black woman (I don't remember her name, sorry) that was Sam's friend in the White House would've had a better role. It would've also been an interesting way to analyze what it meant to be a black woman in the Red Room.

also, if we WERE going to analyze sabra as a character, what does it mean to be Israeli in the red room? I am not a huge fan of boycotting someone based on their identity, because you can't really change where you come from, but we could analyze the status of the ethno-state in the larger marvel universe if we could.

I really wish they had pushed the political intrigue storyline, so much harder.

we do want bruce banner back tho. specifically the insanely lovable version of him in Avengers 1.

I wish they'd make the dialogue more natural

the avengers plot line could've been tied in better?

TLDR: It was a really good movie, with some writing issues and some brilliant performances and some beautiful relationships.

[jays-platoon]

Love After Legacy- PJS (teaser)

PAIRING: Brother's Bestfriend! Jay x Fem! Reader

EST. Word Count: 15-24k

TAGS: non-idol, chaebols in Mexcio au! Jungwon's last name is park, Jake and Heeseung are very animated and a lot of the time show expression through emoticons!, fluff, smut (MDNI !!!!!!!!!!), a couple kys jokes

CW: vomiting, alcohol use, marking, protected sex, unprotected sex, choking, dry humping, virginity loss, marking, etc. more to come ;p

AN: This is our very first fanfic (and smut!), first teased nearly two years ago—thank you for your patience. College life kept us busy, but we finally felt now was the perfect time to share it, especially with the story set largely in Mexico. We wanted to celebrate the beauty of our motherland and push back against the way it’s been unfairly portrayed or treated—as if returning to it is a punishment. This is also our tribute to Enha, especially Jay, who deserves way more fic love. We hope you enjoy, and while shares are appreciated, please respect our work—no plagiarism. We poured our hearts into this. 💛Admin: ପଓ

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

 Sixth grade, 1988, when two boys were brainstorming how they were going to be rich. James and Kwangho Park bonded over 3 things, their shared surname, their hardworking nature, and their strong desire to be beyond well- off in life. The two boys simultaneously spent their childhoods and early adulthood developing the resources to become founders of one of the largest hotel franchises as well as real estate companies worldwide. 

During this 15 year process, both men found wives who later gave birth to 2 children each. Park James fathered 2 amazing boys, Jay and Jungwon, while Park Kwangho had his beloved Sunghoon and treasured Y/N. Conveniently enough for the 4 children, age gaps amongst one another were practically nonexistent. The 2 older boys were both born in 2002 and the second pair in 2004.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

Sunghoon was a true momma’s boy since he would go on his figure skating trips with his mother, while Y/N was a daddy’s girl, she had been learning business tactics and the way of the office since she could remember. When Sunghoon was away, Y/N would spend all of her time with her dad or with her best friends, Jungwon and Jay. 

She was so much closer to Jungwon, not just because they were born months apart from each other but they were practically betrothed since the moment Y/N took her first breath in the fine month of May. James and Kwangho thought that they could be the perfect heirs to their legacy but didn’t push anything on them since they were only children. There was never an instance where in either of their minds they felt any form of romantic attraction to one another. She was just always side-by-side to Jungwon, metaphorically and literally speaking.

Their bonding was also fueled by her slight hesitancy toward Jay, it was nothing new, she just couldn’t help but always shy away from the charming young boy. This of course did not mean they were not friends though, who else would Y/N hang out with when Sunghoon was away and Jungwon was training in taekwondo?

Jay and Y/N spent a good chunk of their early childhood in one specific conference room, room 20C. Spending their time studying with tutors, then ignoring them, by the end of the day, they ended up playing stupid little games together instead of doing their assignments. Ultimately this resulted with their dads scolding them leaving Y/N as a crying mess with Jay comforting the poor sulking girl. In spite of all the scoldings and homework, room 20-Cube was their favorite place to be together. 

Although she was always with Jay, Jungwon was her extra set of limbs, the other pea in the pod, twin flame, ass crack to a fart, they befittingly clicked. They were the duo everyone wished they could have. Their siblings were nothing short of being the same way, it was like they were destined since birth to abide by the “bro-code”. Nothing could separate these four from each other or their duos. 

Due to Sunghoon frequently being abroad, he always felt extra protective of Y/N since he couldn’t always be there when she needed him. That’s part of the reason he loved Jay and Jungwon so much, they looked out for her when Sunghoon couldn’t.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

Sunghoon was a true momma’s boy since he would go on his figure skating trips with his mother, while Y/N was a daddy’s girl, she had been learning business tactics and the way of the office since she could remember. When Sunghoon was away, Y/N would spend all of her time with her dad or with her best friends, Jungwon and Jay. 

She was so much closer to Jungwon, not just because they were born months apart from each other but they were practically betrothed since the moment Y/N took her first breath in the fine month of May. James and Kwangho thought that they could be the perfect heirs to their legacy but didn’t push anything on them since they were only children. There was never an instance where in either of their minds they felt any form of romantic attraction to one another. She was just always side-by-side to Jungwon, metaphorically and literally speaking.

Their bonding was also fueled by her slight hesitancy toward Jay, it was nothing new, she just couldn’t help but always shy away from the charming young boy. This of course did not mean they were not friends though, who else would Y/N hang out with when Sunghoon was away and Jungwon was training in taekwondo?

Jay and Y/N spent a good chunk of their early childhood in one specific conference room, room 20C. Spending their time studying with tutors, then ignoring them, by the end of the day, they ended up playing stupid little games together instead of doing their assignments. Ultimately this resulted with their dads scolding them leaving Y/N as a crying mess with Jay comforting the poor sulking girl. In spite of all the scoldings and homework, room 20-Cube was their favorite place to be together. 

Although she was always with Jay, Jungwon was her extra set of limbs, the other pea in the pod, twin flame, ass crack to a fart, they befittingly clicked. They were the duo everyone wished they could have. Their siblings were nothing short of being the same way, it was like they were destined since birth to abide by the “bro-code”. Nothing could separate these four from each other or their duos. 

Due to Sunghoon frequently being abroad, he always felt extra protective of Y/N since he couldn’t always be there when she needed him. That’s part of the reason he loved Jay and Jungwon so much, they looked out for her when Sunghoon couldn’t.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

SKIPPING SOME PLOT POINTS AND SCENES FOR TEASER PURPOSES

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

“Wonnie this is our last summer before we surrender ourselves to university and be too busy with everything to be together again and actually do something entertaining,” Y/N starts illustrating as she’s sobered up. Jungwon was just about to give her another one of his stupid one-liners, when he noticed that she seemed genuinely upset, tears welling up in her eyes. 

“You realize we’re still going to the same school, right? You act like we aren’t planning on rooming together. Or at the very least living in the same building, we’ll be together until DEATH, don’t play with me, Y/N.” He tries to not-so-lightly comfort her. “Okay loser, but I don’t wanna have a boring ass summer, I wanna bid a meaningful farewell to our childhoods,” Y/N retorts.

“We should all go on a vacation :D,” Heeseung butts in. Seeing the blank stares he got from his friends' younger siblings, he decides to read the room, “Never mind, sorry, YOU should go on vacation…I guess.. :\ ” 

“No no, you might be onto something here, I think we should all go somewhere, they want a nice little vacation before school, and we’re sick and fucking tired of it, we all deserve happiness in this life,” Sunghoon said, finally out of his sorrowful mood from earlier, eyes still puffy, nose still runny, and absolutely still sniffling, but he was finally done crying at least.

 “And get some bitches!” Jake follows up. 

“Don’t be fucking stupid Jake, there’s a lady in the room,” Heeseung retorts. 

“Barely,” Sunghoon and Jungwon say, synched up a little too well for Y/N’s mood.

 “Go kill yourselves,” she jokes. 

“I think it’d be great for all 6 of us to go, but where would we go?” Jay mumbles the last bit to himself, racking his brain for somewhere he hasn’t been that piques his interest.  

“I hear Mexico has some hot ass bitches,” Heeseung giggles to himself biting his lip. “I- uh. I mean I hear the nature is so pretty there!!”

“Heeseung I think you really need to take a step outside,” Jay scolds.

“Yeah the nature is so nice there :D” Jake says with the dumbest smile on his face.

“You two are for real peas in a pod,” Sunghoon comments disappointedly. 

“Jungwon, What do you think? I wouldn't mind going to Mexico.” Y/N murmurs to the boy next to her as she begins to sink into his side.

Wrapping a “protective” arm around her followed by, “I mean I've never been there. I don't care so much for where we go just as long as I can relax when and where I need to. I'm for it if everyone else is.”

“Mexico it is!!” Jay announces with a sinking feeling in his stomach with the sight unfolding in front of him.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

an: Thank you guys so much!! Please stay tuned

Sincerely, Admin: ༊·˚ and Admin: ପଓ

[wonwoosstuff]

Daddy's Dilemma | Seungcheol (non-idol) x fem.Reader

Genre: family chaos, fluff (kinda), they have three daughters (Scoups is so girl dad coded sorry not sorry), the youngest is a drama queen, husband-wife-dynamic, pet names (love, honey,baby) no warnings

Synopsis: Seungcheol, a devoted father of three daughters, finds himself in the midst of chaos on his free day as he juggles parenting duties while his wife is at work. In a desperate attempt to maintain order, he FaceTimes her, seeking advice and connection amidst the mayhem.

---

The living room was a battlefield of toys, spilled juice, and laughter that bordered on uncontrollable chaos. The energetic trio—Seungha, Jiyoung, and the youngest Cheolmin- were testing their father’s patience and multitasking abilities.

Seungcheol, a mixture of exhaustion and determination etched across his face, glanced at the clock, realizing it was almost time to cook dinner. He fumbled with his phone, fingers tapping anxiously as he dialed your number.

The screen flickered to life, revealing you, busy in your office. You greeted him with a warm smile. "Hey, love. I need your expertise. It's a war zone here."

You chuckled, understanding the struggle. "What's going on?"

Seungcheol pointed the phone toward the whirlwind of activity behind him. "Our kids decided it's the perfect day for mayhem."

"Well, first things first. Take a deep breath. You're doing great." You added.

Seungcheol managed a weak smile, the chaos blaring in the background. "Any tips on taming this madness?"

“Maybe set up an activity to keep them engaged. And don't forget about snacks!" You spoke.

Your husband nodded, attempting to corral the little ones. "Got it. Anything else?"

"And most importantly, don't hesitate to ask for help. Maybe call in reinforcements—my mom is probably not that busy. I feel like calling your brother would also help.”

The dad sighed, realizing the truth in your words. "I just miss having you here."

Your expression softened. “I miss you too, honey. Just wait until I get back home. It won’t take long, I promise!“

As the chaos continued, Seungcheol felt a renewed sense of determination. "Thanks, love. I think I’ll handle this.”

“Mommy!” A happy squeal came out from the youngest child. “Cheolmin, my baby!” you squealed back at your daughter. Cheolmin climbed onto your husband’s lap and took over the phone call.

“Have you been behaving well?” You asked her.

Silence. Her dad looked at her. And she looked back at him. A laugh escaped your mouth.

She was witty just like you but resembled her dad a lot. That is what made you laugh. Both of them were just too cute to handle.

“Yes mom. I did.” She proudly answered. Your husband rolled his eyes funnily at her statement and pinched her cheeks playfully: “You little liar. Look at you hiding your real you in front of your mom.” He smiled and laughed at his daughter.

Since Cheolmin was a bit sensitive due to her lack of energy she abruptly started crying. Seungcheol panicked and looked at you with his eyes widening. “Oh no- baby- that’s not what I meant. I’m so so sorry.” Your husband wiped her tears away and kissed his daughter’s cheek softly.

After Cheolmin had calmed down her drowsiness drove her into sleep. Later on she fell asleep in Seungcheols arms. He signaled a wait and placed his phone- with his daughter still hugging his neck- on a table making you wait for him.

When Seungcheol entered the girls room the two other girls were sleeping peacefully in their beds. Letting out a quiet sigh he tucked his girls into their beds making sure that the cold did not get to them.

He came back to the living room and took a seat on the couch. “Mrs Choi, are you still there?”

“Yes. Oh my- you made it. It was so quiet all of the sudden.” You answered.

“I don’t know how they fell asleep but they did eventually. This is crazy. Love, how do even manage to do that every day? This isn’t easy at all!”

“I don’t know. Maybe they just listen better to their mother.” You chuckled.

“Oh, damn.” Seungcheol scratched the back of his head. “Well, that could be a reason.”

You grinned, blowing a kiss through the screen.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but I really gotta go back to work honey.” You exclaimed.

“No worries, baby. Just come home early. I miss you badly.”

“I will, Sir.” You both laughed.

“Love you.”

“I love you too.”

And with that the chaotic face time call had ended.

You couldn’t wait to get off work just to see your lovely family. That was your only motivation to finish quickly.

———————————————————————-

Nobody fathers more than Seungcheol Choi. Omg I need to write moreeeeeee.

[rhythm-of-lesbianism]

one of the things Stormlight does really well is the complexities of the parent/child relationship and I'm just thinking a lot about that. Like the obvious example is Dalinar and Evi and Adolin and Renarin. First time I've ever read a book where a father killed his wife and the resulting fallout felt... real? Emotionally? Adolin and Renarin both cope with that information in very different ways (anger vs. denial). Even before that reveal, we still see Adolin's complicated feelings towards his father, idolizing him but wondering if he's going crazy.

Kaladin and Lirin is another one that is so, so good, because of how realistic it is. I've seen a lot of joke comments about their relationship saying that Lirin is like everyone's asian parent who wants them to become a doctor and is disappointed no matter what they do and that's like a funny joke but also kinda nails it where other interpretations of their relationship don't. How do you deal with a parent who just does not understand your life choices? How do you keep loving someone through disagreement? Their relationship felt so real and relatable to me.

Another one I wanted to touch on, a less prominent one in fan spaces, is Venli and Jaxlim. Watching a parent or relative deteriorate is heartbreaking. Venli's feelings in that situation felt so realistic to me. She wanted to do anything to heal her mother. She was resentful towards Eshonai for leaving her to care for their mother much of the time.

Even Shallan's parents, who fall more into the 'very bad inexcusable parenting' camp, have a lot of complexity. I'm still rereading Wind and Truth, but I think her relationship with her mother is so interesting and juicy and real despite her mother being a Herald. Even when a parent does something despicable it's a lot more realistic for their child to mourn and become broken by killing them rather than like. walking away from the encounter intact.

I don't know what my point is just that i think this is a really good element of the Stormlight Archives that I appreciate a lot. Parentage, as in the identity of one's parents, is often important in fantasy, but the complexities of familial relationships are not as common of a theme. Stormlight doesn't really have any Mysterious Orphans or Bastard Sons of the King. That makes the characters feel more real

[matchaelette]

when jungkook is leaving and none of you know what to do with yourselves

summary: idol!jk and oc!ash (her name is ash, cz I couldn't think of anything else & Y/N makes me physically cringe), established relationship, jungkook is leaving for military enlistment and they are just spending the last moments together, jimin cameo ;)

genre: fluff, bit angsty, idol au

warnings: again, jungkook going through the whole enlistment procedure, suggestive, oc cries a lott but hey, everyone of us is crying

words: 3.5k

note: it had to be done. I needed to write about this. I'm not functioning straight and I wrote this in a mood where I felt very drained and emotionless so it might show up in the writing....? also, this is concerning-ly unedited. anyways enjoy, feedback is always appreciated <3

you've lost count of how many times you've cried this whole month.

ever since you could walk, talk, and form conscious thoughts, you've noticed that every feeling you've had and tried to express comes out as tears. yes, you're angry, oh my god mom, I wanna shake your shoulders and tell you to believe your daughter for once and not somebody else, but you're silent and you're crying; you've been memorizing every single thing for this presentation and you swear by your future first newborn baby that every word is engraved in your brain, just say the words, people don't care what you fucking say you just need to say something, but you're silent, your legs are shaking on the stage and you think you're crying; you love him, you love this human being staring at you from between your legs with all the love in this whole fucking universe, kind and whole and happy and real, jeon jungkook, you love him so fucking say it, but all you can do is caress his face and let the silent tears cascade down yours.

yes, ever since the beginning of time, all your emotions and feelings have been coming out as tears.

sometimes you think that spending all your teen years bottling up everything because of a mean father and an angry mother messed you up for good. all your life you've hated yourself for crying so easily, especially when in front of other people, feeling so weak and broken all the time. but you didn't think much anymore, at least not as much as you used to overthink when you were younger, scared of fellow high-schoolers, scared of what people think about you. after you've met jungkook, your sweet jungkook, he has shown you that crying doesn't necessarily mean you're weak. maybe you were just sensitive and that was alright, because you've always cried when you felt too much, made you more of a genuine human than everyone else. his words, not yours.

but it did feel good to hear and you didn't know what you've done to deserve it.

you also remember that every time you've hated yourself for crying, you always found solace in the fact that maybe someday it would all run out and you'd be perpetually free from all of it, the childish thoughts of a child.

however, even though you laughed at those thoughts every time you remembered them, you were now convinced of how wrong you were to think that maybe the tears would run out someday if you cried too much. because you've been crying continuously this month, more than you've cried your entire life, and by god, not only have the tears not dried out but also, it just keeps coming more and more if possible.

you choke out once again as you bury your face in jungkook's shoulder, clutching the front of his shirt as he tightens his grip around your waist. he looks at you helplessly, not knowing what to do anymore, because no amount of words or actions could stop you from crying. he knows he has tried it all.

you force yourself to get a grip, rubbing your face on jungkook's already wet shirt to dry your wet cheeks, and look up at the blurry distance in front of you, resting your cheeks against the place you've been hiding. jungkook stands there, one arm wrapped around you and one arm around his mother, with a little smile that keeps blooming at the sight in front of him seeing his jimin hyung hug and bid goodbye to his family, despite all the heartbreak in the air.

he tightens his grip around you and leans down to kiss his mother's head, who is in a state identical to you but still more graceful and elegant than you could ever be. "it's gonna be okay, you two", he whispers, causing his mother to gently smile and take your hands as you let out yet another sniff at his words. as sad and worried as she was at her son's departure, she couldn't help but feel worried for you too, her motherly nature reaching out towards you in a way you never felt from your own mother.

"I will be okay", she smiles at you in a teasing manner, despite her glassy eyes, "but the question is, will your girlfriend be okay?"

"h-hey!", your voice shook as an unintentional smile replaced the frown, "stop teasing me, maa", you whine.

"I am not teasing you, dear. honestly, come live with me for a few days. come to busan. I'll take care of you"

"if you keep saying that, I'll really turn into a parasite and stay in your house forever, maa"

jungkook giggles at your conversation, happy that the most important two women in his life got along so well. and you did, ever since the day you've met his mother. she loved you as her own daughter, as did his father, and made you feel so loved and comfortable that even your antisocial ass loved to spend time with them, making you visit them frequently, with and without jungkook by your side.

jungkook's mother lets go of her son and glides into her husband's arm, who looks at jungkook with pride. after all who wouldn't be proud of this talented, lovely, hardworking boy? jungkook was your boyfriend, and your best friend before your relationship upgraded into something more, and a lot of words came to your mind when you thought of him. but the first word has to be proud. proud that he became the man he is now, proud of who he was and every single version of him, how humble and kind and caring he is, always making everyone around him feel loved and respected. proud of how your friendship managed to stay so strong after all this time, proud how he is trying his best to get through these 18 months without any toll in your relationship.

jungkook hasn't shed a single tear yet, holding you through nights when you decided to be a mood killer, couldn't help thinking that soon he wouldn't be able to hold you like this. you were so far rooted in the future of the enlistment process that you forgot to live the present. you were a mess, shaking and sobbing ever so often, frustrated at hybe, frustrated at the whole lot of bts for taking a decision like this, frustrated at the south korean government, frustrated at jungkook for not being frustrated at how hysterical you've been acting.

jungkook, instead, has been a constant pillar of support. he has been constantly kissing your tears away, pushing his fears away of how you guys might not last through this calamity, reassuring you more than him that it will be alright. and as much as you wish he would express his own feelings instead of tending yours, you were glad that the boy didn't cry because it was all that was holding you back from getting onto your knees and begging him not to go. you couldn't do that to him, couldn’t do that to his happiness because you knew he would've obliged to your wishes, somehow, and break his own heart. he would do anything for you. he has been continuously proving that, after all.

"how is ash holding up?", jimin asks jungkook as he takes a sip of his soju, not feeling drunk enough despite the few bottles of alcohol he has drank. the point of the night was to spend time with each other, jungkook, him, and taehyung, getting wasted and having fun like old days. namjoon was supposed to join them as well, but he was overseas on schedule. taehyung, on the other hand, was already passed out on the couch, but it might have to do less with his low alcohol tolerance and more with his tiredness after landing in seoul from france just a few hours ago, after quite a hectic fashion week. so, it was jimin and jungkook now, them and their alcoholic asses against the whole world. after all, no one could hold their liquor like them in the whole group.

"she is, well, I honestly don’t know", jungkook frowned, a drop of soju ran down his lips to his black sweatshirt but he didn’t seem to notice, "she is totally ignoring that I have to leave and acting completely normal."

"sounds like her. isn't running from her problems her best coping mechanism?". you were close with all the members in the group, and the rest of them considered you as their little sister as well (even though taehyung jokingly called you noona sometimes) but if there was one member who knew the best, it had to be park jimin. he was your best friend after jungkook and the time you spent together, whether be it gossiping or shopping, was always something both of you found therapeutic and cherished from the bottom of your hearts.

a silent pain erupts in jungkook's heart as he finally voices out the thought he has been continuously having for the last few days, "hyung, should I break up with her?"

"yah jeon jungkook", jimin smacks the back of the younger boy's head, looking at him with shock, "are you that drunk already?"

"I don’t-", jungkook chokes out the next few words incoherently, and jimin had to physically shift closer to the boy to make sense of his words, "I don’t know what to do. I-I don’t know how to live without her. I want her all to myself and I selfishly want to ask her to wait for me. but how can I do that when she could have a much better life without me?"

"jungkookie-"

"she could fall in love with someone better than me. fuck, saying it out loud infuriates me but I know that she could be happier, way happier than I can ever make her. you see what I am doing? I am leaving the girl I love to protect my career, to make sure nobody has anything else left to guilt trap us with. I am doing all of this for myself. how selfish does that make me?"

"you keep forgetting that you don't have a choice, jungkookie."

"then why does it all feel like my fault?"

"what are we going to do?"

the words escape your lips without meaning to. they hang like a whisper in the air as your bodies slowly recover from the high they have been through, limbs tangled and eyes closed, forehead resting against each other.

"are we gonna be alright?"

yes, jungkook wants to say, yes because if you decide to stay, I will make it all work, I will make it all okay, I promise. but how can I ask you to stay when it will only hurt you?

"do you want to… maybe… break up?", his vacant voice makes your eyes fly open in bewilderment, not being able to believe that he actually said the words that he said. all this time both of you have been ignoring the pink elephant in the room, only almost two months left before jungkook left for the military enlistment along with namjoon, jimin, and taehyung. you’ve been trying to enjoy what little time both of you had despite your busy schedules, especially jungkook, who has been working tirelessly to make his fans feel a little less lonely when he won't be present anymore. something to hold on to while I am gone, I hope you can stay within this magic shop we've build together, memories of me would console you like the gentlest breeze of a fall evening, I will yet again patch something I haven’t broken.

but one of you had to be strong enough to address it, this overwhelming dread and the constant need to be with each other, ignoring sleep and every other basic need because you knew your time was coming to an end. you needed to address it and needed to be assured that both of you can get through this, your love was way stronger than these 18 months.

but that's the first thing he wants to say?

the way he looks at you breaks your heart. he has a small smile on his face and you can tell that it is genuine, that he is taking one last moment to cherish all of you if you decided to say yes. but there is almost an unbearing sadness behind his eyes, pained and tortured, begging you to say no.

your voice is almost comical when you actually find it, "jeon jungkook, do you want me to fucking kill you?"

and his immediate reaction is almost laughable. you could see his shoulders drop with relief. he buries his face in your neck and drops all of his weight on top of you, holding you in a way that immediately blocks out all the bad things and forces you to focus on him and him only.

you laugh, "you're quite heavy, babyboy"

"deal with it", comes out his muffled reply, as he forces you down on the soft mattress with his bare body, almost an attempt to bury you, and you choke out yet another laugh at his antics, tightening your legs around his waist and running your hands through his fluffy hair. I refuse to believe that it will all be gone soon.

"you haven't said anything. anything at all", he says quietly.

its sad that you know what he is talking about.

"I didn’t know what to say", you reply softly, careful that your voice doesn't shake. he doesn't need to see how you break every time you remember that he is going to leave, which you've been remembering an awful lot these days. no, you need to be strong, for him and for you. after all, you have already survived months away from each other, during tours and comebacks, thanks to both of your careers.

"we have survived before. it's not something new for us. we can do it again", you whisper against his jaw, gulping down the tears threatening to break free. only this time, it's 18 fucking months, and the unspoken words hang into the air.

"you didn't even shed a single tear", jungkook lifts his face and looks at you accusingly, knowing very well that you're a crybaby, "it keeps feeling like you don’t care."

your eyes widen at his words and it feels like a punch to your gut but you can’t say you're surprised. you have been acting indifferent to put up a strong front, and now that you look back, you may have overdone it from time to time. you were never a good actor.

you never understood why it always felt like this, every time you hide your problems from someone to not bother them, and always feel like a shipwreck when they actually fail to notice.

"jungkook, love", you trace his cheeks with your fingertips, his cute chubby cheeks, his lips, moving to his eyelids the moment he closes his eyes under your touch. you drag your fingertips through his scalp, waterfalls of his hair cascading down when you reach his nape, softly pulling his face closer to kiss the tip of his nose. jungkook, my love, how do I tell you that you mean the world to me and that I am not worried that our relationship isn't as strong enough to fight the course of time but I am sad and I am selfish and I don't know how to survive without feeling your presence for even a single day? how do I tell you that you never have to worry about me leaving but worry about me staying forever and suffocating you? I love you and I don't know what to do with myself, I love you and I don't know who I am without that love. what can I say to make it all better?

"babe, are you crying?"

no, you're not crying. you're sobbing.

"wait wait, I didn't actually ask you to cry—", you can see the panic in his eyes as he pulls both of your bodies up into a sitting position just using one of his hands while the other wipes your cheek off, you on his lap, your thighs straddling his waist, bare torsos flushed against each other. you feel him pulling you into a hug as if your bodies could get any closer than they already are. but instead of being comforted, you sob even louder.

"ash, sweetheart, please don't cry", jungkook wanted to punch himself, regretting the words he spoke earlier. what the hell was he thinking, saying that you didn't cry? he wanted to go back and kick his own ass at the stupidity. why the hell would he want you to cry of all things?

you on the other hand could do nothing except bury your face in your boyfriend's neck, and feel the entirety of him, his body, his scent, his hold on you, his voice so clear in your head, nothing but him until the time runs out. you have been so strong till now, haven't you?

"but you're leaving", he could see now, how much of an idiot he had been thinking that you didn’t care enough just because all you were doing was trying to be tough and get through without this exact moment happening. he could hear the desperation in your choked sobs, he could feel the sadness at his own dam threatening to break. he almost felt angry that after all this time, he was still stupid enough to not see through you.

"and I will be back sweetheart, you know I will be. and then there would be nothing standing between us anymore. nothing. for the rest of our lives", he promises as he lifts your tear-soaked face to look at his own. he looked pained, trying his best to be strong when you were falling apart right in his arms, but you could still see the hope behind his eyes because his promise was real and you knew it.

but once the waterworks begin, it just cannot stop.

there is nothing left to say now. it is time, you realize. the chilly breeze washes over you, and you realize that nothing can make you feel as cold as you will when jungkook gets in that car with jimin. your eyes find each other, mouths desperately looking for words to say, promises, comfort, but what can you say that hasn't already been said?

"I love you", you whisper.

"stay out of trouble, okay?", jungkook kisses your forehead and even with the unstoppable tears leaking out from your eyes, you can't help but shoot him a mischievous glance. you, the god of getting into trouble, staying out of trouble?

jungkook sighs, knowing you a bit too well. after spending years together, he knew well enough that you could never be forced to do something you didn't want to do. you were like a storm, passing through in a way that was your own, wrecking everything in the process. while he loved your bravery and carefree nature, he realized it comes with its consequences. for him, it was constantly worrying about you and never wrongfully so. so, he returns to his last resort to make sure that you will be okay, "do it for me."

"okay that is pure emotional blackma—"

you cannot finish your words because his lips are on yours in a second, abruptly plunging you down a rabbit hole because, god, after all this time you're still not used to it. he smells like fresh laundry and mint, moving carefully because he isn't sure that you will allow him to kiss you like this in front of half the people from his company, his parents, and god knows who else is in the base. but who are you push him away?

you drop all courtesy and kiss him back in a manner that is sure yet gentle, tongue brushing softly against his lips. jungkook obliges and parts his lips, breathe mingling and tongue dancing in harmony as you kiss him with all your might, letting all of him overwhelm all of you one last time.

you let go of each other, breathless yet eyes glued. you trace his face, from his eyes to his cheeks and nose, his shaved head, still as soft as silk under your touch. he kisses your fingers when they reach his lips, smiling gently to remind you that yes, he will be gone, and that will hurt as hell but then again, he will be back.

"go, jimin's waiting", you force out a smile, "and please, for the love of god, choose something normal to do, something that doesn't involve jumping out of an aircraft or—"

"I love you."

".....I know."

[perfectsunlight]

[14] SOMETHING REAL

warnings: none

jennie didn’t sleep. it wasn’t a matter of if she could, it was a matter of her not wanting to. she couldn’t remember the last time her daughter slept in her embrace, and she didn’t want to waste this rare opportunity. as she watched jane’s peaceful face, she felt a pang of regret. 

she wished she could turn back time, to be a better mother from the start. it was hard to think that at ivory’s age, jennie was already a mother. the idol knew she did the best she could with her circumstance, but it still pained her to know her role as a mother should’ve been more of a priority.

the house was silent, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of leaves outside. jennie’s mind wandered back to the early days of jane’s life, the nicu visits, and the overwhelming love that had filled her heart the first time she saw her tiny daughter fighting for her life.

“i’m sorry, valentine,” jennie whispered, her voice barely audible. “i know i haven’t been the best mother to you. i’ve made so many mistakes.” jane, who was still resting her head on her mother’s shoulder, stirred slightly but didn’t open her eyes. the older woman took a deep breath, feeling the need to unburden her heart.

“there are so many things i should have done differently,” jennie continued, her voice still soft and barely above a whisper. “i was young and scared, and i thought giving you up would be the best thing for you. but when i saw you in that incubator, fighting so hard, i knew i couldn’t let you go.”

she paused, gently stroking her daughter’s hair that was the same shade as her own. genetics were a funny thing. jane was physically a carbon copy of her mother. from the eyes and the face, all the way to her hair and hands. 

but even jennie knew her daughter’s personality came from her father. it was a bittersweet reminder of the man who had chosen not to be part of their lives.

“i’ve tried to be there for you in my own way, and i know you deserve so much more than i’ve been able to give. but i want you to know that i love you more than anything in this world.” the idol added, trying her best not to cry. she wouldn’t know what she’d say if her daughter saw her like this.

nevertheless, her own eyes betrayed her and welled up with tears. “you’re my everything, jane. and i’m so proud of the person you’re becoming. i just hope that one day, you can forgive me for not being the mother you needed.”

her tears flowed freely now, a silent testament to her sorrow and guilt, but also for her love for jane. the love of a mother who, despite her flaws and mistakes, wanted nothing more than to make things right. 

the blackpink member continued to stroke jane’s hair, her touch gentle and light as to not wake her sleeping daughter.  “i remember the first time i held you,” she murmured. “you were so tiny, so fragile. i was terrified. i didn’t know how i was going to take care of you, but i knew i had to try. i couldn’t let you go.”

she paused, taking a shaky breath. her emotions were all over the place, and even though ivory was fast asleep, she couldn't help but want to keep talking.  “every time i see you, i’m reminded of how lucky i am. you’ve grown into such an incredible young woman, and i’m so proud of you. i know i don’t say it enough, but i am.”

jennie’s voice wavered as she continued to reflect on her abilities as a mother. she had so many regrets, and she often wondered if that was just how being a parent is. you try your best, but still regret it all.  she hoped her daughter would understand how hard it was for her, too. 

“i know i’ve made so many mistakes, and i can’t change the past. but i want to be there for you now, in every way i can. i want to support you, to be someone you can rely on.” she gently wiped away her tears, her resolve strengthening. “i promise you, valentine, i’m not going to give up on you. i never have, and i never will. so even if you resent me for your entire life, just know that i will still be in your corner.”

jennie leaned down, pressing a kiss to jane’s forehead. “i love you more than words can say,” she whispered. “and i’m going to prove it to you, somehow, someway.”

the idol leaned back and shifted a bit so her daughter could sleep in her lap, and eventually jennie dozed off, too. however, jane was far from fast asleep.

as her mother’s breathing evened out, signaling that she had fallen asleep, ivory allowed herself to relax slightly. she shifted gently, making sure not to wake her mother, and stared up at the ceiling while tears fell from her eyes.

As the tears continued to fall, Ivory reflected on the countless times she had felt neglected, the moments she had resented Jennie for not being there, and the times she had wished for a different mother. Hearing her mother's heartfelt confession shattered those beliefs and replaced them with a confusing mix of emotions.

she recalled the times she had wished for a different life, for a mother who was more present and involved. but now, she realized that perhaps her mother had always been trying, in her own way, to be there for her. 

it wasn’t perfect, and it certainly wasn’t what jane had envisioned, but it was something real.

after what felt like forever, and with her mother’s words still echoing in her mind, jane drifted back into a more peaceful sleep, feeling a little less alone and a little more loved.

previous | masterlist | next

TAGLIST ⸺ ✶ @silantryoo @imahallucination11 @jisooftme @yerimbrit @linnnsworld @edeivveiss @urmom2314 @aespasoooool @mygfiswonyoung @yeetaberry127 @@sixflame438 @yourmyst4r @shegoswhoree @saysirhc @hwm1hyun @literallybipanic @yejiscene @gayforalll @yvsvrn @bunnywonyo @karifrogs @thefckghost @yoontoonwhs @pandafuriosa60 @somedaydream @hotluvlet @pagedpick7 @lizseos @cy8erpunkz @keiji-jin @lizseos @xszn @awkwardtoafault @hellokiraa @chicopichu @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite @lesbian4themis @literallybipanic @tjdc25 @st4r4ngel @jihyos-hoe @jxmis

CLOSED.

[starscr0ss]

hii @blood-orange-juice since U asked ＼(^_^)／ (sorry this took longer than i expected i Had to make a post about it i just have many thoughts)

i wrote a little about this on my twitter ^ post shown above

The post you commented on was originally me rambling about what i think to be tartaglia’s sort of attention seeking tendencies- but to relate it back to chlmi:

In general i find childe to be incredibly needy, whether it's serious or simply a facade he puts on, he seems to greatly enjoy receiving the attention of those he respects and/or appreciates- lumine being in this category.

I personally find this to be incredibly funny and also just interesting. There’s this chronic need to be constantly recognized and praised- like I had said previously in my post. I think this for several reasons: there are personal, more logical ones- Like him possibly being the middle child of his family. There are other ones that are more backed up by canon, like him being an adventure-hungry kid, idolizing the heroes he father would tell him about. All of that just points me to a kid whose family just happened to be preoccupied with the rest of his siblings, and not on, say, little meek Ajax.

One of my favorite parts about this dynamic is the blinding, neverending faith he seems to have on Lumine- he loves her for she is to him: an equal, inside the battlefield and outside of it. I think there’s a part inside of him who honestly wants to save her- but not like, in a patronizing way. I don’t even think it's something that he could even articulate. He wants to be there for her, wants to help her and fight by her side and i’d even say he’d outright hate Aether for acting in a way that, for him, brothers shouldn’t- childe adores lumine, even more so i think he just adores the fact that someone like her even exists: a real hero, an adventurer, a good person.

And he wants her to see him, at least once. He’s greedy, he deserves to be seen by her.

That’s childe on my part. Talking about lumine is a little trickier because all we have are random tidbits on her personality and royal background (which i hateeee i need their entire life story and dislikes and likes on a neatly written page with ribbons and all. But oh well)

Anyways, lumine is like three different unhealthy attachment styles stacked on top of each other wearing a white dress and flowers, (and we love her for it. I support women’s rights and wrongs.) But really, there’s no way you’re normal about your interpersonal relationships once you’ve lived your entire life depending entirely on your brother and assuming he will always be there for you, just for him to leave and also refuse to come back with you when you plead him to. I am reminded of Dainsleif’s question to her (“Do you believe your brother to have abandoned you?”) because I think, in some part, she does.

Some people see her as the opposite, but at least in my experience, an avoidant person is simply one that knows they get too easily attached- of course Lumine is incredibly avoidant. Painfully so. But it's all just a symptom of her root problem, which is being unable to form a normal and not all-encompassing relationship with anyone else. And really, Childe is the worst person for her to come across. He’s unsavable, terminally unfixable, because there really isn't anything there to fix, because everything he is, he’s proud of. It just so happens that what he is is a weapon, and weapons eventually dull or break. And obviously she doesn’t just see him as a weapon (whether he likes this about her or not is up for debate, but any of those are interesting and fun to explore so i'm fine with either jsjs)

Do I think she wants to save him? In a way, I do. In an incredibly selfless way, I think she’d trade places with him if she could (ever listened to kate bush? Yeah. that one song) but also i think she just wants him for herself, not anyone else and certainly not the tsaritsa or the abyss.

So yeah that’s my basis for my thesis, written on the twitter post above. I really think she’d foolishly try to latch onto him the same way she did with Aether (at least I think that serves for a fun dynamic) . And I also think he’d let her, out of greed. Out of desire.

Toodles!

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Legacy

Tee Higgins x Ochocinco!Daughter

Description: Tee's been dating one of his idol's daughter behind his back. What happen's when the reader breaks her dad's number one rule? How will Ocho react when he finds out?

a/n: I need to start writing shorter, but I physically can't. I hope it meets your expectations ♡

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: overprotective father figures, language,

Main Masterlist

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

Over the last seven months you’ve been happier than ever. You got a promotion at work, finally moved out of your dad’s house and met him. You’d never felt a love like this, he made you feel things you couldn’t have imagined. He didn’t just care about you, he cherished your love, encouraged your goals, and helped you feel safe. Tee made you feel seen in the world, in his world filled with countless others that would give anything for his attention.

Falling in love with Tee Higgins was easy, hiding it from Chad Johnson was the hard part. 

Every Memorial Day weekend your dad throws a small family kickback. At first it was his way of welcoming the summer since us kids were out of school, now that we’re older he does it so we have an excuse to spend time together. This year it’s gonna be in Miami at his new condo and of course he invited all of us, including any plus ones that we wanted to bring. Funny enough Memorial Day falls on the 7 month anniversary of you and Tee being together. The coincidence of the two dates lining up is chilling. 

Your dad was the stereotypical black father growing up, he didn’t want his daughters dating anyone until 35. While that rule was broken days after him stating it, there was one he would lay his life on the line for. 

‘No daughter of his shall ever date an athlete, but more specifically a football player.’

Real funny coming from him, the legendary NFL wide receiver. It’s also funny that your boyfriend and your dad played for the same team with the same number. Yea you’re pretty much dead if he finds out.

Thankfully there may be someone that can help you.

Calling ‘Future Rich Wine Auntie’…

“Hello?”

“I'm in a crisis.” You huff.

“Oh look it’s my poor little sister crying for my help once again, what did you do this time y/n?” She snickered.

“Jicyra, you’re two years older than me.”

“..and wiser and more stable (financially and mentally).” She mumbled that last part, not very well though.

“Hey!”

You could hear her smirk though the phone. “It’s true, I’m not in my 2nd year of residency making no where close to the current average in your field.” Well she didn’t have to rub it in.

“I know but- look we actually do have a problem.”  

“I knew it, you broke your dishwasher.” She cackles.

“Oh my god, I did not break the dishwasher. Why do you say shit like that? I’m talking about Tee and dad.” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh.. wait you still haven’t told him?”

You sigh. “Not that it’s Tee, he knows I’m dating someone.” 

“ Just rip the bandaid off, no harm no foul.” 

“That’s easier said than done, Cyra.”

“Look all I’m saying is you’re making a really big deal out of nothing. Dad ain't gon do shit, plus he considers Tee a second son half the time.”

ੈ♡˳

After getting off the phone with your sister, you started to devise a plan to tell Tee about the party, but you didn’t get far when he ended up walking through the door less than 10 minutes later. “Baby, where you at?”

“In here!” You forced a smile onto your face as he engulfed you into his fresh cucumber scented body. Probably showered at the facility. “We need to talk.” You both sit.

His face dropped and he slowly released you. “What’s up?”

“It’s not bad, it’s just we need to change our 7 month plans a bit.” You kissed your teeth.

He lets out a breath of air he didn’t know he was holding in, “that’s it. Damn baby you had me thinking this was it.” 

“No, no of course not.” You lean over and plant a brief kiss on his lips. “I would never break up with you like that, or ever. Especially if you didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“I mean there was that one dream you had.” His mouth twitched up.

“I’m a very vivid dreamer, I can’t help that. And blame that bitch from the club who tried to get in your pants.” 

“Ok what’s this about then?”

“Remember those end of school parties I told you about?” He nods. “Well my dad has invited us to his next one. It’s memorial day weekend in Miami.” 

His face shifts in realization, “I guess it’s time to tell Ocho.” He surveys the way you chew on your lips and wont meet his gaze. So he grabs your hands, pulls you into his arms and kisses your head. 

“Hey, I got you. Everything’s going to be fine, knowing your dad he’ll make a joke about it, maybe threaten me then we can have good time.”

You look up at him, “you think so?”

“I know so, baby.” You smile and pulls his lips to yours.

ੈ♡˳

You arrive at Miami Dade two days before the party and without your boyfriend, due to him having an early practice the next day. The 3 hour plane ride gave you lots of time to think of a way to break your big news to your dad without him popping a blood vessel or setting anything on fire. You decided to just break the news to him as gently as possible, give him small details then let Tee speak for himself. Sure is putting all the pressure on him a bit harsh, yes. But he asked you out in the first place, so who’s fault is it really? 

A little over a year ago.

It was your first official week in Cincinnati when Danielle, a long time friend of yours, suggested that you join her at a party that the guy she was seeing was throwing. Being so new to the city, you took her up on the offer so you could meet people. When you got to the party, it was covered in orange and black jerseys and it dawned on you that this wasn’t just some party.

“Dani, did you bring me to a Bengals victory party?”

The dark skinned woman removed her coat and smiled. The number 1 printed on the white fabric made you scoff. “I knew if I told you he was a football player, you’d find an excuse not to come.”

“You’re dating Ja’Marr Chase?” The bright smile painted on her lips couldn’t be wiped off even if tried.

“Yes, it's been 3 months and I really like him, so please just stay.” So you let the woman lead you further into the party.

Let’s be clear, your dad’s dumb rule didn’t cause your destain for the football culture, it was the fact that your entire life was centered around the sport. Dad’s a legend to the team, brother played just like him and it’s all anyone ever talked about. You stayed away from sport all together, it didn’t help when you majored in Biology to be a physical therapist, but you weren’t actually watching them play.

The party wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, granted you spent most of the time standing by the bar carefully nursing your drink, but the vibes were nice. You’d already met most of the players on the team through your dad and work, so you weren’t surprised when Tee came up to you.

“Dr. Y/n Johnson, I thought you said I’d never see you outside the office.” He smiled discreetly looking you up and down.

“Uno’s dating my best friend.” You said nodding towards the couple on the dancefloor. “She dragged me here without telling me it was for y'all. But I guess congratulations are in order, AFC champs.”

“Oh you know, just another thing to be thankful for, just like you in that dress.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere Higgins, but buy me another drink and maybe I'll bite.”

“Anything for a few more minutes with your fine ass.”

ੈ♡˳

Minutes at the bar turned into hours on the phone then days just to see that charming smile, so yea flattery got him the world. 

Your phone buzzes knocking you out of your daydream.

Mean Ass Bitch: I've been in the airport pickup line for 10 minutes, where you at bitch?

LOML T💜: missed you when i got home mamas, call me when you get there 

You bite your lip hiding the grin that he put on your face as you click on his contact. It rings once before you hear that deep southern drawl come through. “There goes my baby.. How was ya flight baby?” 

There isn't a moment when you don’t feel the warmness in your chest and butterflies in your stomach when it comes to this man. The charm may have gotten him in the door, but it was his goodhearted, loving nature that gave him the key.

“Hi..it was good, I managed to get a nap in so that was nice.” 

“Only the best for my baby. How you feelin? I know your nerves been goin crazy.” 

Just as you were about to answer, you spotted your sister, your very mad sister. “Hold on babe, J looks like she wants to kill me.”

“All good, we can't have that. Call me when you can, I love you.”

“I love you more Tamaurice.” You smirk as you get to her car.

“You the only one allowed to say that, wouldn't be gettin away wit that shit if you weren't so beautiful.” His tone lacks the seriousness he implied as his light chuckles come through the phone.

“Sounds good to me, byeee.” You can’t help laughing as you hang up and put your bags in Cyra’s Audi. 

“I hope you ain’t laughing at me dying in this damn heat waitin for your slow ass.” She mean mugged as you ducked into the car. 

“Nah, it’s because you're dressed like goddamn big bird in that damn sweat suit.” You teased.

“I will kick you out of this car, quit playin’ bitch.”

“Okay, okay,” you sigh as she pulls out of the airport traffic. “So how’s my gorgeous real estate queen big sis doing?”

“You know what, I’m good. Charmin’ rich people outta they money for some last leg beach houses that’ve seen one too many hurricanes. I’m very excited to get on this boat with a glass of champagne and just relax.” You nod along as she turns the radio on. “How’s the Tee and dad situation going?”

You take a deep breath and sink further into the seat, “I’ve decided to just let his presence speak for itself. They already know each other, but ‘Tee the wide receiver’ is very different from ‘Tee the man that’s dating his daughter’. I’ll try and ease the idea of him before he gets here, there’s no way I’m taking all the heat from this.”

She scoffed, “you just gon’ let your man take the fall?”

“He has said he’d do anything for me, so it probably won’t be that bad.” You shrugged.

“Yea ok Y/n, I can’t wait to see this blow up in your face.” 

ੈ♡˳

Walking into your dad’s house felt like going through a time capsule, he only bought it a few months ago but the walls and shelves were filled with pictures of us as kids and football memorabilia. “Dad she’s here.” Cyra sings taking your bag down the hallway that you hope has the rooms.

You find him in the kitchen arms deep in hamburger meat. “Uh oh Docta Johnson in the house. Come here and give your old man a hug.” Shaking you head, you humor him as much as you can without touching his hands.

“How you doing old man?”

“I’m alive, I’m happy and I’m excited to meet this boyfriend of yours. Where he at, did you tell him to wait outside? Baby you know I’m good.” He smiles as wide as he possibly can.

“I’m glad to hear it, but he’s not here yet. He has work so he’ll be flying out tomorrow night.” 

He smirks. “At least he has a job.”

Your jaw drops, “that was one time and you said you wouldn't bring it up again.” He chuckles as a frown builds on your face.

“I’m just playing, but this guy already sounds ten times better than what his name.. Jackson! Yea he was a leech.” 

“Okay, that enough boy talk. Want some help there?” You ask gesturing to the mountain of meat on the marble counter.

“I would love some, you always were the better cook. But don’t tell your sisters I said that.” He nods with a hushed voice.

You chuckle walking over to the sink. “You just did.” His brows furrowed. 

“What do you mean?” Chade and Jicyra tapped his shoulders from behind him. He eyes whitened out.

“What I meant was that Y/n’s good with protein heavy meals. Cy you make a mean salad and Chae you make the best cookies.” He smiled.

“Nice try, I do be throwin’ some flour around tho.” Chade remarks.

“Whatever, we’re off to buy some supplies for the party. Bye!” Then its just the two of you, in the kitchen seasoning about 20 lbs of meat and forming it into decent sized patties.

“So is there anything else I can squeeze out of you about this fine young black man? He is black right?”

You scoff, “what if he isn’t, what’d you say?”

“None, nothing. Your hair look too good for you to be dating a white man.” Your jaw drops for the second time today.

“I can’t. I don’t know why I’m helping you.”

“Aww my poor middle child.” You shove his arm causing him to get raw meat on his shirt. 

“Ok, I deserved that.” He nods, side eying you. “Don’t even try it.”

“You no fun. Come just tell me something about the guy.” 

You bite. “Fine, yes he’s black. He’s tall, kind, smart, sweet and I guess he’s pretty athletic.”

He hums, “athletic huh. What we talkin here NBA, NHL, FIFA?”

“I ain’t giving you no more, you’ll see him tomorrow and I’ll let him speak for himself.” You finish your part then walked out of the kitchen.

“I can read in between the lines Y/n! If Ja’Marr walks in this house tomorrow, I’m beating his ass!”

If he only knew how close he really was.

ੈ♡˳

You ended going out to dinner with your sisters when they got back. It was fun it being just being them, you could gossip and chit chat all you wanted without Ochocinco lurking around. Before bed you and Tee talked all about each other’s day and all the nerves about him meeting your dad. He reassured you that there was nothing he couldn’t handle and nothing your dad could say that changed how he felt about you. It felt good going to bed knowing your boyfriend had no worries about your relationship changing at all.

The next day was pretty chill, dad was too busy with the last minute preparations for the party. So you spent most of your time at the mall with your siblings. Your brother pretty much just groaned about the heat and the amount of time you spent in stores, but you reminded him plenty of times that he could go off on his own and he chose to stay. With that said the four of you had a pretty nice time. Until the ride home, when you could not get away from the Tee questions.

“Don’t you think its weird that they shared the same number and team?” Junior spent 20 minutes just going over the similarities between them like you hadn’t already known how odd it was.

“Jr leave her alone. How’s his stamina though?” Chade was the youngest, as anyone could probably tell with her bluntness.

“No sex questions please, this is a rental and Jr’s not afraid to blow chunks.” Cyra joked.

“Yall act like I don’t have sex.”

“Ok so would like to know what Matt and I did at your New Years Party?” Chade smirked. 

He eyes just about fell out of his head. “You and Matt? Matt my best friend? YOU AND MY BEST FRIEND FUCKED AT MY PARTY?”

That was the end of the questionnaire.

ੈ♡˳

The second you pulled into the driveway you noticed two things: your dad’s SUV was still absent and there was another random car by the curb. 

“Who’s that?” Cyra shrugged in response and just motioned you to get out. Normally someone would’ve taken offense to be thrown out of a car, but then your favorite person in the world got out of the other car.

“Damn, he is tall.” Jr’s comment was deaf to your ears as you ran over to your boyfriend.

“Hey babygirl.” He smiled wrapping his arms around you.

“What are you doing here? It’s only 4 and you weren’t supposed to land until 9. You know what I don’t care.” He lifts you onto the trunk of the vehicle so you’re eye to eye and guides your lips to his. Another feeling you could never get tired of, his plump lips against your glossy ones. Your arms wrap around his neck in an instant to pull him closer into you. You love being able to relinquish all control and just let him move you how he sees fit. He pecks your tropical scented lips once more before helping you down.

“Well that is an image I’m never getting out of my head.” Jr shakes his head and takes your bags out of the car. 

“Let’s go in the house so Y/n can properly introduce us to her beau.” You stay glued to his side as you make your way into the condo. 

As Junior rounds the corner to the bedrooms he stops in his tracks and the bags drop onto the floor.

“JUNIOR MY PERFUME!” Chade shoves him and grabs her bags. “Oh shit.”

Cyra being in no mood for their nonsense, pokes her head down the hall. “What the hell is wrong with you- hi daddy.” You shoot her a panicked look. She responds with an equally panicked shrug. The situation is impossible, there’s only one way to the living room and its to pass that very hallway. 

“This is not how this was supposed to happen.” You whine at the lowest voice you could manage. Which didn’t end up being that low in the end.

“How what’s supposed to happen?” Your dad’s voice bellows out. Tee squeezes your shoulder as the man walks into your view.

“Surprise?” 

He sighs. “Damn, I owe Junior some money.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” You blink. All of sudden your brother bursts out laughing and starts dancing around your father.

“I told you! He had his mind set on you bringing either Ja’Marr or Burrow ‘as a wildcard’. I’m ten thousand dollars richer people.” 

“You bet ten racks on who she was dating! Dad I thought you were smarted than this.” Cyra expresses dumbfounded like the rest of you.

“Dad what the fuck? Is that why you wanted to know if he was black or not?” You rolled your eyes before walking past the man into the living room.

“Y/n it wasn’t like that-

“I don’t care, I’m just glad you lost your money to the dumbest person here.” 

His forehead creased, “Was that her way of calling me the new dumbest person?” Both of your sisters nodded. “Got it.”

Then Tee, still standing at the doorway, clears his throat. “Ocho.”

Your dad turns back towards him and pulls him into a ‘bro-hug’. “Well if it isn't the younger taller version of myself. I should’ve known it was you, not because of that but you didn’t exactly take your eyes off of her when she came down to that practice.”

Tee chuckled. “Couldn’t help it, man. I would’ve talked to you the last time you came to practice, but I was under strict instructions not to. When the love of your life tells you something, I make it habit to listen.” Chade nudges you as your face heats up.

“Love of your life huh? Glad to know she’s in good hands, and you have no excuses not to go for my records now. You got a physical therapist on speed dial.” They laugh together.

“See, I told you you were worried for nothing.” Cyra joins you on the couch. 

“Yea I gues you were right.” You mutter bringing a smirk to her face.

“I’m sorry what was that? Did The Dr. Y/n Johnson just admit that she was wrong.”

You pressed your lips together and got up. “You heard me or do you need an audiologist? Cause I can’t help you in that area, you’re just getting old.” You walked over to Tee, quickly grabbed his hand and ducked when a pillow came flying your way.

“Im only 2 years older than you bitch.” You cackled running down the hall to your room.

“Hey, no funny business in my house!” You shut the door and laid back against it trying to calm down while Tee sat on the bed studying you.

“What?” You walk over and stand between his legs.

“I like this side of you.” He sucks in his bottom lip scooting back on the bed.

“Yea, well I know a side you like even more.” You saying climbing onto his lap.

His hands go around your hips and cup your ass. “Oh I like this Y/n very much.” You push him back and place ghost kisses on his lips.

“Woman if you don’t- You go to give him a peck but lightly bite his lip instead. “Fuck.”

He closes the distance between you, sucking in your lips and licking into your mouth. 

Yea you had nothing to worry about at all.

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

a/n: reblog if you like, comment or request any scenarios you'd like for me to write for our octopus lover♥︎

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

Soulmatch™ — App-grade your love life!

(new picture bc this is the renjun i imagined in this)

pairing: huang renjun x reader

au/genre: smut, humor, fluff, angst, strangers to enemies to lovers...?, non-idol!AU

characters: huang renjun, f!reader, best friend!jaemin, best friend!haechan, friend!chenle, renjun's parents

word count: 24.807 words (oh my god)

general warnings: mentions of cheating, men being dudes and dudes being bros, lack of communication, haechan is a milf hunter, trust issues, insecurities regarding relationships, hook ups, smoking, alcohol, mentions of vomit (nothing graphic or detailed, literally just the word), mentions of erectile dysfunction (???), emotional manipulation..? past na jaemin x reader, implied past huang renjun x wong yukhei / lucas, toxic masculinity, daddy issues, haechan and jaemin talk very vulgarly and do not know boundaries, mentions of virginity, crying, heartbreak, author makes use of their limited knowledge of tarot.

smut warnings: ...hate sex...?, unprotected sex (nuh-uh!), fingering and brief oral (f receiving), face-fucking, switch!renjun, switch!reader (?), pet names, a lot of imagining sex, brief choking, mentions of anal, creampie.

synopsis: Renjun is a hopeless romantic, his goal is to meet his perfect match by the end of the year, maybe even his soulmate. The perfect solution: an experiment for finding love through an app. Renjun doesn't care who it is, as long as they're a perfect match, he thinks. But then you show up...

a/n: i really love this so much. it's a bit different from what i usually do bc it has a real storyline! it's complicated (not really)! i really poured my heart and soul into this. i love renjun so much. argh! also, why do my endings always feel rushed???? help???

taglist: @she-is-dreaming @nctzennikki09 @babyjenono @noonaisreading

"Why the fuck do they need information on my favorite toys from ages five to ten?" Renjun groans, rubbing his temples before quickly grabbing ahold of his phone to facetime his mother. The ringing sound of his phone had always managed to annoy him, and he wonders whether there'd be a section in the forms where he could put that down.

Staring at himself on his screen, he fixes his brown hair. It had gotten quiet long over the past few weeks since his last haircut. Admittedly, he hasn't had the energy to leave the house, really, thankful for his freelancer job that allows him to work from the confines of his own four walls. Although, he'd thought about growing his hair out anyway.

Finally, his mother answers the phone.

"No, it's Renjun... No, turn the TV down! Down! Lower the volume," his mother shouts, not at him, but at what he could only assume is his father, judging by the Jackie Chan movie playing in the background, that after all these years, he can identify by the sounds only.

"Hello, Junnie," his mother finally addresses him, a gentle smile on her face, a harsh contrast to the annoyed frown she'd thrown at her husband earlier.

"Hey, mom," Renjun says, tapping on his own video so it would fill the screen instead of his mother's.

"How are you doing?"

"Fine, fine. Uh, listen. Do you remember which toys I liked when I was 5?" Renjun finally lets his hair fan over his forehead in peace, getting frustrated that it's not staying in the exact place he wants it to. He's only talking to his mother anyway. That woman'd wiped his ass a few years back, so why bother.

"What an odd question," she grins, briefly getting distracted by something happening behind her phone which she shoos away with her hand and a tight lipped frown that disappears as soon as he lays her eyes back on her son.

"I just need to know. It's really important."

"Okay, let me think. I believe you liked this one thing- this squishy" – her hand squishes the air in front of her phone – "what is it called?"

Renjun can hear his father's voice from behind the phone, "what? Plushie?"

"Yes! You had a plushie that you really liked!"

"A plushie..." Renjun mumbles, filling the letters into the field, "what color?"

"It was a cow."

"So black and white?"

"Those are the usual cow colors."

"Okay. And when I was six?"

"Honey, what do you need this for? Is it still this love calculator thing? You know I read that article about it online-" His mother raises her brows in concern.

"Yes, but I didn't want to say it, because-" Renjun's words get cut off by his father's obnoxiously loud voice as he yanks the phone from his mother's hands, his big head coming into view and Renjun has to immediately roll his eyes.

"That's nonsense, son, and you know it. Anyway, when will you come by again? I bought steak. You know no one can make steak like I do!"

"Yes, I know. I won't be able to make it any time soon, though." Renjun sighs, fingers fiddling with a loose string sneaking its way out of the couch cushion.

"What if I told you we had some fine wine?" – "Stop dragging our son into alcoholism," Renjun's mom finally wins the phone back, but Renjun can still hear his dad's laugh in the background.

Renjun huffs. "So? Year six?"

"Honey, I'm really not sure. You've had a fire truck phase, then enjoyed dinosaurs, then couldn't get enough of those collectable horses. You were a very diverse kid with so many different interests. I don't think you can categorize that or sort it into years. Just say that you liked all kinds of toys–"

"Even girls' toys!" His father laughs.

"Alright," Renjun sighs, pressing his lips tightly together before wishing his mother a good night and ending the call.

"All kinds of toys..." Renjun mutters to no one but himself as he types his answer into the box, shaking his head. He's been filling out these forms for days on end, and slowly he starts believing his parents' words that it's just nonsense.

But it is his only hope.

_____

"A what for what?" Donghyuck asks, mouth as full of burger as Renjun's own, hence why he couldn't understand him the first time. Renjun holds up his hand, chews aggressively, then swallows hard.

"An experiment for finding love," he explains a second time, and the crease in between Donghyuck's eyebrows only seems to be getting deeper with every word that leaves Renjun's lips.

"What the fuck is that?" Donghyuck asks (assumingely, Renjun still can't understand him over the huge bite of patty and bun inside of his mouth).

"You give a whole bunch of information about yourself to the scientists, and they use some software to find your ideal partner," Renjun explains briefly. There's a bit more to it than just that, but he doesn't want to overwhelm Donghyuck's brain while he's eating.

"Pff, okay?" Donghyuck says, a few crumbs of- whatever that had been only mere seconds ago flying out of his mouth and directly onto Renjun's forearm. The older contorts his face in utter disgust, shaking the sticky pieces of food off of his skin.

"You're a pig, Donghyuck," Renjun states, wiping the spot with his napkin because he can still feel Donghyuck's saliva on himself.

"I might be a pig, but at least I got game." Donghyuck finally swallows, grinning proudly with a small piece of lettuce stuck in between his teeth which Renjun has yet to decide telling him about after that insult.

"You don't have 'game'," Renjun spits, fingers motioning quotation marks, "you just have low standards. You'd fuck everything that bends over in front of you."

"That is not true!"

"Need I remind you of what happened with Chenle's mom?"

"She is a milf!" Donghyuck whines, letting his hands weakly fall down onto the table.

"Whatever." Renjun sighs. "Point is: I'm not lacking game, I just want to wait for the right person."

"Alright, two explanations, same outcome: your dick is dry as fuck," Donghyuck nods, pointing his fry at Renjun before he drags it through his vanilla milkshake and stuffs his mouth with it. Renjun presses his lips together, frowning slightly as he imagines the taste of that. "So when are you getting banged?"

"I don't want to get banged, Hyuck," Renjun answers, fingers coming up to rub at his temples. He knows he's lying, Donghyuck knows he's lying, so why did he lie? "There is more to it than sticking my dick up a hole."

"Just any hole? You didn't specify that it should be a pussy?" Donghyuck's eyes widen and he stops his motions. Renjun watches anxiously what a large amount of time Donghyuck's been holding a new fry into his milkshake for.

"I didn't. I don't care."

"You'd shag a dude?!" Donghyuck's shrill voice attracts the eyes of several people sitting around them.

"I don't know why you needed to let everybody know about that," Renjun say through gritted teeth, "but yes. I don't mind."

"I didn't know you were bi," Donghyuck finally sucks the fry into his mouth, then cleans his fingers with his tongue.

"I'm pan."

"Same thing."

Renjun opens his mouth to protest, but he's honestly a little drained to dispute with Donghyuck right now. Wow, what has he become...

"So, when are you finding real love, then?" Donghyuck tries again, empathically sensing that he just scratched at Renjun's teasing-limits and should therefore tone it down a little before he loses a friend.

"I finished filling out the forms a couple of days ago. They have to analyze it and then find someone in their data base. I'm not sure how long it's going to take," Renjun explains, losing a tad of hope with every word at the realization. It's probably going to take forever.

"Okay, then what do you say: one last time going out on pussy hunt with the boys?"

_____

Renjun realizes that this is not one of his proudest moments as he stands leaned against the bar. On the outside, he might look cool and relaxed (or at least that's what he strives for), but he's honestly close to being shit-faced and needs the bar for not losing his balance. Admittedly, it's been some time since Renjun's last time out and he's been a bit nervous.

"This is great, huh?" Chenle says next to him, cool as ever as he leans his back against the bar, keeping his balance with only his forearms. Renjun envies him.

"Totally," Renjun retorts sarcastically, but Chenle doesn't seem to pick up on it.

His other friends had already abandoned him, always with a dirty grin as they got dragged away by a pretty girl. Renjun just can't get behind this whole thing of hook-up culture. Why would you want that when you could- never mind, Renjun understands why people hook up. He really shouldn't judge other people when he's the one who signed up for a love experiment.

"So I heard this is going to be your last time going out with us?" Chenle asks, then takes a sip from his beer bottle. Renjun likes hanging out with Chenle, but the younger's busy schedule doesn't offer much time for friend activities. Chenle is generally laid back and doesn't judge others. Well, not really, he just likes to tease, but generally speaking, he is a good person to open up to.

"Yeah," Renjun answers shortly, not in the right state for a long conversation.

"Because of that love app?" Chenle asks, and Renjun briefly looks over at him to see a teasing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah," Renjun repeats in defeat.

"I think it's cool," Chenle says, corners of his mouth turning downwards making him look impressed, but Renjun doesn't seem convinced. "You know, real love. It's rare these days, I think it's admirable. Really."

"Thank you," Renjun says, a gentle smile on his lips. "Hyuck's been teasing me a lot for it, but I just.. don't like this hook-up culture. I want to settle down."

"I get you, man." Chenle nods, clinking his beer bottle with Renjun's glass that contains the last few drops of a cocktail, then empties his bottle. As if on command, a girl leans against the bar next to him, whispers something into his ear while tugging at his sleeve. A grin forms on Chenle's face before he turns to Renjun.

"Sorry, gotta go. She says she needs Daddy." Chenle winks at Renjun who gives him a combination of a genuine chuckle and an awkward smile in return, then waves at Chenle's figure getting dragged towards the restrooms.

Renjun sighs, then his eyes scan the crowd. It's stuffy, the fog machine on a too high setting making it hard to even make out faces. It also feels hot, no wonder considering the amount of bodies dancing and sweating to the sound of the music, and the entire atmosphere feels too uncomfortable to find someone he could- sleep with. All of his friends are gone anyway, there's no way they could check if he got with someone or not. Sighing once again in defeat, Renjun decides to call it a night. He steadies himself, then tumbles over to the door, pushing it open to be hit by cool air. He immediately feels like he's drank 2 glasses of alcohol less than he actually did.

"Cigarette?"

_____

"This is not something I want to brag about," Renjun says the noon after, his butt placed on a chair in Donghyuck and Jaemin's man cave. It's actually just their shared home, but judging by the looks and smell of it, Renjun cannot not call it a man cave.

"Couldn't get it up?" Jaemin asks, an understanding nod moving his head. The younger looks messed up, respectfully, his hair tousled and eyes still not completely adjusted to being awake, the size of the cup of coffee in his hands an indicator of how he's feeling right now. Donghyuck really doesn't look any better, his body leaned over the table with his forearms supporting his weight.

"What? No!" Renjun shakes his head with a frown. He really loves his friends, but sometimes he wonders why he's even friends with them.

"Did you puke on her?" Donghyuck covers his mouth with his hand. Yeah, Renjun wonders in times like these.

"No."

"Did she puke on you?"

"No! There was no vomit involved," Renjun explains, eyes widened in alarm. This conversation slowly but surely makes him wonder how his friends' hook-ups tend to go... not that he wants to know, considering all this talk about throwing up.

"Then why are you not sharing every single detail?" Jaemin grins, scooting his chair closer to Renjun until he's uncomfortably pressed up against his cheek, reeking like coffee and sleep.

"Because..." Renjun frowns in defeat. "Because she was gone this morning."

"And? What, are your balls itchy?" Donghyuck raises his brows.

"What? Why would my balls be itchy?" Renjun whines, finally peeling his cheek away from Jaemin. "She didn't give me an STD, nor an UTI. W-we used a condom, I think."

"You think?" Donghyuck laughs, straightening his back from being leaned over the table for too long. "Did our Renjunnie hit it raw?"

"Honestly, I don't know why we're talking about this?"

"Did her pussy grip you too tightly to pull out?" Jaemin asks, nodding understandingly while padding his shoulder, "happens to the best of us."

"You're a maker, Renjun," Donghyuck adds.

"First of all, I don't know what that means. Second of all: the sex was fine! Great even-" Renjun tries to defend himself and his hook-up, even though he's not entirely sure why, considering she, well, left without a trace.

"Did she smell good?"

"What, her vagina?"

"Everything."

"Uh- yes? She used perfume, and everything else smelled healthy, I guess. But what I'm trying to say is-"

"Jaemin you bastard! You really have a problem, fucking panty sniffer!" Donghyuck laughs loudly, making Renjun instantly aware of his own hangover.

"Sue me," Jaemin leans back grinning, hands coming up in faux defense.

"It bothers me that she snuck out without even saying anything!" Renjun shouts, palm coming down on the table top with such force that both of his friends jump. It goes silent for a while until Donghyuck opens his mouth once again.

"I understand, man." He leans forwards, placing a palm on Renjun's shoulder. "That was really disrespectful of her." "Not cool," Jaemin chimes in supportively. "But look on the bright side: you'll never have to see her again."

"I guess that's true," Renjun mumbles, "but-"

"But?"

Hesitantly, Renjun looks into Jaemin's face, then into Donghyuck's. "It was really good."

Chaos breaks loose, both of them cheering loudly. Donghyuck begins laughing until his knees hit the floor – an impressive action considering the amount of alcohol his system has to fight – and even Renjun manages to crack a smile.

_____

"Jun, you might wanna see this," Donghyuck proposes hesitantly from the other room. Renjun, already annoyed about having to make his way all over to the living room and abandoning his brewing tea, sighs. What in the world could be important enough to summon him from the kitchen?

"Can't it wait?"

"Believe me when I say you might wanna see this."

Renjun aggressively throws his hands in the air for no one to see, he can't live in peace for even a second with this guy. Still, he stomps over, standing in the door frame with furrowed brows and crossed arms. "I swear if this is some stupid shit again-"

"It's your dating app."

Renjun rolls his eyes, "they've been sending useless messages for the past four months, I don't fucking care."

"It says they found a match." Donghyuck finally looks up from Renjun's phone, eyes wide and mouth shaped into an 'o' form. Renjun's own eyes bulge out at the preposition. "What?!"

He stumbles over, ripping the device from Donghyuck's fingers and holds it close to his face. Indeed, there's the notification. They found them. They found someone!

"Man you should really get your eyes checked if this is how-"

"Shut the fuck up, I'm the happiest man alive!" Renjun beams, smacking Donghyuck in the back of his head without lifting his gaze from the screen. Donghyuck mewls, and it sounds a little too much like a moan, but everybody knows Donghyuck is a little pain slut, so Renjun pays him no mind.

Renjun instead klicks on the notification, the application he hasn't visited in over half a year popping up slowly. There it is. The moment Renjun had anticipated for such a long time. He's a little disappointed that he can't visit this person's profile or anything, but he quickly forgets about it as his eyes land on a button that spells: 'send an invitation'.

"Hyuck, you have to go," Renjun announces, causing Donghyuck to lift his head, gaze drifting away from his own phone screen to look at Renjun perplexed.

"Eh?"

"Leave! I have to get ready," Renjun whines, peeling Donghyuck off of his couch by his wrist. Donghyuck complies balky, but lets himself get pushed out of the front door that Renjun closes in his face immediately, then rushes into the bathroom.

The invitation was sent for tonight, 8 pm. That means he has four hours to get himself and this shit hole he calls his home ready, and the task seems nearly impossible. That is until he finds himself, embarrassingly out of breath, ruffling his hair one last time in front of the mirror by the front door before the doorbell rings. He made it just in time.

His hands shake as he presses the button that opens the door, and a little harder even as he grips the handle to open the door to his apartment.

"Get a grip," he tells himself quietly, then puts on a smile as he listens to the footsteps climbing the staircases. His heart beats rapidly against his ribcage as his eyes focus on where is soulmate is going to appear in the next few seconds.

There, a foot comes into sight, followed by...

"You?!"

Silence.

"Hi?"

"I'm gonna need a minute-"

After splashing cold water in his face in the bathroom and pulling himself together, Renjun comes back to find you sitting on his couch, looking a little nervous, but generally contained and not as bothered by this disaster as Renjun. Sitting down, Renjun watches the arms move slowly over the face of his antique clock that with every passing second omits an obnoxiously loud ticking sound that is only overshadowed by the thick tension hanging in the air. Every once in a while, his gaze traces your form on the farthest end of Renjun's couch, staring blankly at the wall.

"Why did you sneak out?" Renjun puts his thoughts into words, eyebrows scrunched together in a mixture of anger and disappointment.

"It was just a hook-up," you turn your head to whine at him, "I don't know why you're making a big deal out of this?"

"Because it-" Renjun starts, but then decides that he'd much rather not appear pathetic in front of you for moaning about that being his last sexual encounter before formally agreeing to wait for the one.

"Alright," you sigh after a while, "I'm sorry, alright?"

Renjun clears his throat and nods, "okay. Thank you."

"I'd much rather talk about the important things right now," you say, turning your entire body to sit cross-legged on the couch facing Renjun. You take a deep breath before opening your mouth again. "I'm just going to say what everyone here is thinking: the app obviously made a mistake."

Renjun's eyebrows fly upwards as he blinks once, very slowly, "excuse me?"

"Yeah. I mean, no offense, but you're obviously a softie! And I like tall men,-"

"I don't think I'm getting this right, you fucked me before?!"

"Yeah, it was fine for a night, but-"

"And why am I a softie- or, first of all, why is that bad? We both did the experiment, we're both looking for a perfect match, or am I wrong?" Renjun did not even notice getting up from his place on the sofa, or when he started pointing an accusing finger at you.

"I don't know, you take it so serious-"

"And you're being a real bitch right now." Renjun furrows his brows even further as you get up as well to stand right in front of him, your pointer finger pushing into his chest.

"I do not appreciate you calling me that."

"I have done nothing wrong, I cleaned this whole place, and even when I realized that it had to be you, of all people, I was willing to work with it, but right now, I just want to..."

Renjun realizes how close you are to him right now, he can smell your perfume, the same scent you'd worn the other night. Even if it was whole while ago, he still remembers the dusty note that now once again tickles his nostrils, immediately taking him back to that night.

"...kiss you."

Renjun hasn't even closed his mouth before your lips press against his, your passion wild and untamed as your bodies press closer, your hands immediately going to his hair, gently pulling so it stings at his scalp as Renjun's own hands roam over your form to settle on your waist and ass.

His head is clouded, his mind hazy with the feeling of you against him. He's a little embarrassed of your affect on him, immediately growing hard in his pants as soon as you hump yourself against him, content sighs flowing from his mouth into yours.

It's hectic, hands touching everywhere at once all of a sudden, fingers clutching clothing in an attempt to rid the other of them, limbs tangling as Renjun moves the both of you to the nearby bedroom.

You somehow manage to peel yourselves out of your clothes, Renjun can feel how wet you are for him, and though he's so focused on only you, he can't help but comment spitefully, "you prefer tall men, huh?"

"Fuck you," you gasp before kissing him again, and Renjun does not quite know how to feel about this, maybe it's bad, maybe it's good, but he assumes that this type of behavior should not make his tummy fill with butterflies. It still does.

Renjun lines himself up with your hole, then thrusts forward. He doesn't take his time to prep you like last time, he finds that if you want to act like a bitch, you should be treated like one. He's also very perplexed that he's thinking like this, he never has, but he guesses you bring this side out in him.

You cry out in pure bliss as he stretches your walls that are struggling to take his size, your eyes rolling back at the overwhelming pleasure. Renjun's thrusts are quick and hard, ramming his tip against your spot in a way that makes you see stars and your thighs shiver around his waist.

Your orgasm approaches fast, almost embarrassingly fast considering you made such a fuss earlier, Renjun admits to himself, feeling proud as he pushes you over the edge with ease. The moans tumbling from your lips are nothing short of pornographic, and Renjun does not have it in him to shut you up for the sake of his neighbors.

Instead, he pulls out, then quickly replaces his cock with his fingers, pressing them upwards repeatedly to tickle another quick high out of you. His eyes are on you the entire time while yours are closed, assumingely overwhelmed with how good he's making you feel.

Once you writhe from overstimulation, Renjun removes his fingers as well, licking a fat stripe over your cunt before turning you around and pressing your face into the sheets.

"I'll show you how much of a softie I can be," he grunts before pushing in once again, his hand pressing against the back of your head as he crashes his hips into yours with such force that the bed frame penetrates imprints into his wall. Your moans are muffled, and Renjun decides that he'd much rather have his neighbors hear how good of a fuck he is, so he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you up.

"Oh God," you whine, back arching beautifully to take even more of him, and Renjun suppresses a coy grin at the fact that he's able to destroy you that easily.

"Hm? Not so soft now, huh?"

"I'm gonna cum again-" you announce, hands gripping the sheets as you try to ground yourself, to just take and take and take what Renjun gives you, and soon after he can feel you clench around him as another orgasm takes over you, leaving you weak and shaky.

"Too much?"

You shake your head, but Renjun pulls out nevertheless. "Get on your knees, I want you to suck me off."

Never in his life has Renjun seen someone hurry off a bed so eagerly. You open your mouth compliantly, like a well trained slut, and Renjun can simply push his cock between your lips and fuck your mouth. "Tap my leg when I should stop."

You nod quickly, then relax your jaw for him to use you. Renjun loves this sight of you. He remembers what you looked like when you came over, with pretty makeup and perfectly styled hair – and now everything's ruined, your hair messy and tangled, your makeup smudged by a mixture of tears and spit. Renjun loves how hazily your eyelids flutter as you try to look up at him, eyes seemingly focussing and un-focussing, more tears welling up in your eyes before they trickle down your cheeks, spit coating your chin as you gag a little.

Renjun believes he could get used to this.

_____

The sun tickling the tip of his nose is what wakes him up the next morning. With a groan, he tries to adjust his eyes to the bright light shining into his bedroom – the downside of having a bedroom that faces east. Once he realizes where he is, the memories of last night come flying back to him. He has to find his arms to be much emptier than when he went to bed the night before. He sighs, a hand coming up to run over his face. Honestly, he didn't even have to check the rest of his home to know that you snuck out again.

A mug filled with coffee in hand, Renjun lets out a shaky sigh. It stings, he's not going to lie, but maybe you have your reasons, maybe something came up, maybe you need time to think. Or maybe you just hate him and only want to use his desperate state of romanticism and body for your selfish nature.

This assumption is neither proven to be false nor correct when his doorbell rings a couple of months later. In the meantime, Renjun had done nothing but sulk, try to pull himself together, work non-stop to get you out of his mind, realized it's not working and went back to sulking, then the cycle repeated itself. He hadn't even updated his friends about the encounter for a lack of energy, basically. His apartment is a mess, empty to half-empty boxes of takeout littered all over the place, bottles with a last sip left left and right that Renjun trips over every few hours only to curse loudly and do nothing to clean them up afterwards. Basically, he's living like Donghyuck and Jaemin right now.

His feet drag him to the door. "Hello?"

"They're threatening me."

Renjun, without even having heard it twice through the speaker, recognizes your voice immediately. And before he knows it, his finger presses the button that opens the door with a buzzing sound. He curses at himself, panic arising as he listens to your heavy footsteps climbing up the stairs to his apartment. Once you step into sight, Renjun loses his ability to talk. Why do you have to look gorgeous? Why does he want to get on his knees and eat you out immediately? Why is he so weak?

You take fast steps and invite yourself into Renjun's home as he does nothing but take a few careful steps back. You then lock the door as you check the hallway behind the door through the peephole for any potential threats.

"Who?" Renjun finally gets out.

"The app developers," you mumble before retrieving from the door.

"Why?"

"They know I left, now they keep threatening me."

"I doubt that," Renjun frowns.

"Look!" You push your phone into his hands. Renjun curiously scans the last notifications the app sent you.

How did it go? Did you find your soulmate with us? Please rate us in the app store.

Hey! We found your soulmate! Now all you need to do is rate this experience.

Your soulmate is happy to have you. Thank you for working with us, please leave a rating in the app store.

Rate your love experience now!

Renjun snorts.

"What?" You watch him with furrowed brows and crossed arms.

"These are hardly threats."

"They just keep coming, this has to be a threat. Haven't you gotten any?"

"I don't know, I don't have the app anymore," Renjun mumbles.

"Right..." you say, finally taking a first look around the place. "And what happened here?"

"Stop judging me!" Renjun turns his back to you while crossing his arms. Of course he hadn't had the time to deep clean his apartment when he was busy sulking and writhing in self-pity for the past months. And, to be fair, it was all your fault!

"Alright, maybe they're not threats, per-se. They still made me feel bad..."

"Oh?" Renjun turns back around, eyebrows raised. "It has a heart?"

"Ha-ha," you deadpan, but Renjun can't suppress a smile as he makes his way over to the kitchen to grab himself something to drink, and you kicking your shoes off, and then following him on track like a lost puppy.

Renjun opens the fridge and pours himself a glass of the fruity water he's prepared a few hours ago (not because he felt like it, only because he was afraid the remaining fruit his mom brought over because she coincidentally happened to be in town a few days ago would go bad if he didn't use them). He lifts the glass to his lips and takes a refreshing sip.

You watch him set the glass down on the counter. "Aren't you going to ask me if I want something?"

With a hint of playfulness that he does not want to give away under any circumstances, Renjun scoffs, "yeah, as if I'm going to be nice to you after the stunt you pulled. Twice." Renjun holds up two of his fingers to highlight his words.

Your brows furrow as you open your mouth to complain, but you must have realized he's right, so you shut it again, turning into a cute pout instead. "I'm sorry. It's just- it's hard-" You give up and press your lips together tightly. "Can we- start over?"

"Oh? From what point?" Renjun raises his brows, lifting his hand to count with his fingers, "when you abandoned me the first time? When you insulted me? Or when I fucked you so good you couldn't stop drooling on the sheets?" He smiles in victory at your shocked expression. "To which I could also add: the first or the second time." He wiggles two fingers in front of your face with a smug smirk.

"I wish I could say this behavior of yours irritates me to the point where I just want to give up, but you're kind of hot looking all messed up and heart-broken because of me while sporting that victorious grin," you say and step towards him.

"Ah, really?" Renjun's confident shell starts to crumble.

"Why don't we start from the beginning?" You stop right in front of him, and Renjun has to press his ass against the counter to keep that little distance that allows him to breathe. Amused, the corner of your mouth twitches, then you extend your hand as your gaze bores into his.

"Hi, my name is ____ and I would love to suck your cock."

Renjun hates the way his breath hitches as he carefully shakes your hand for a reason he is not aware of. "I-I'm Renjun," he simply says, and the playful smirk on your face widens as you pull your hand out of his to lay atop of the waistband of his sweatpants. Renjun hates it even more that he feels his blood that just milliseconds ago thumbed through his ears now rushing downwards awakening his cock.

"Do you want me to suck you off?" Your voice is bittersweet as you bat your lashes at Renjun who gulps before breathing out a "yeah".

You smile, fingers untying his sweatpants before you push your hand inside to feel him up. "So hard, all for me? What a good boy you are, Renjun."

Renjun bites down on his lip, face contorting in pleasure as he feels you feel him up and down, his hips push forward involuntarily. Why do you have to be like this? Why can't you just be- less enticing, less hot, less able to turn his brain to complete mush every time he sees you? Renjun knows where this is going, you're going to give him the best, most amazing, jaw-dropping, eye-rolling, toe-curling head of his life, and then you're going to walk out that door as if there aren't still drops of Renjun's cum trickling down your esophagus.

Just as your hands leave the inside of his pants to pull them down his legs, Renjun grabs ahold of your wrists. Your eyes widen in surprise.

"No," Renjun catches your gaze that holds a whole lot of insecurities in them, or so he assumes. "I am not letting you touch me until I know you won't leave me again."

The look in your eyes tells him that something about this interaction hit a nerve very deep down, so he tries to lighten the mood with a light joke and a careful smile. "At least take me out on a date before you use me."

Jackpot, he realizes, as you scoff and pull your wrists from his grasp. "Alrighty then, what do you want to eat?"

_____

The wideness of his eyes expands exponentially with every word you tell the guy behind the counter of the nearest Subway who prepares your sandwich. He could mouth along your order because, even up until the sauce, it's identical with his. Hence, all he tells the guy once he's finished is "the same". You seem not to notice – or care – and the quick walk back home is quiet despite the tornados of thoughts winding through Renjun's mind. Is this how the app worked? Match people with similar taste in food? Though he doesn't remember putting his Subway order in when submitting his forms.

Arriving at home, you ask Renjun to put on a show to watch while eating, and when he plays his all time favorite, Modern Family, you announce that that's your favorite as well.

Renjun watches, half in awe and half scared for his life, as you practically inhale the foot-long sandwich in front of his eyes, and he feels his heart thumb just a little faster seeing you all domestic like this; not dolled up, and not with his cum dripping from some part of your body, just you being you. Apparently, he likes you more than he likes to admit, he's afraid.

"I think I'm going to delete that app as well," you announce as you wipe the remaining sauce and crumbs from the corners of your mouth.

"How so?"

"I have you now, don't I?" You shrug, placing your plate on the coffee table in front of the couch. Renjun's heart jumps at your words, then sighs and happily sinks deeper into the comfort of his chest.

"Does that mean- I mean-" But he is shushed by your finger pressing against his lips, that makes his eyes widen.

"Shh, baby boy, don't ruin it." You say, then get up.

"Where are you going?"

"Will you calm down? I just want to pee!" You whine, then march off towards his bathroom, and Renjun wants to punch himself in the face for watching you go with a smitten gaze, but he can't help staring. You're just too gorgeous. He loves the way you're so relaxed and funny, sighing lovingly as he admires your beauty coming back from the restroom to sit down next to him with a thud and a weirded out expression on your face.

"Why are you looking like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I just took your virginity in a field of dandelions."

"I am not!"

"Whatever. Can we fuck now?"

The little hearts circling around Renjun's heart – metaphorically – shatter. "Are you being serious?"

"I hate to admit this too, but you're pretty good at what you're doing."

"I am more than just a toy for you to use!" Renjun argues, setting his plate down on the coffee table next to yours. Anger is visibly written all over his face, and you seem to finally get the hint that he's serious about this.

"Alright, then. What do you wanna do instead? Cuddle?!" You suggest, and although it does not seem like this is a legitimate offer, Renjun takes it.

"Yeah, for example!"

And that's how your back ends up pressed to his front as you watch TV, not without a last roll of your eyes, of course, and while Renjun affectionately plays with your hair, he has time to relish in the feeling of being loved for the first time since forever, even if he had to threaten you with deprivation of sex. Later, you even fall asleep in his arms, in his bed, and when he wakes up the next morning, you are snoring soundly besides him.

_____

"Do you want to meet my friends?" Renjun asks casually over the steam evaporating from the hot coffee mugs on the breakfast table. You have half a Baozi in your mouth, and Renjun can only guess your next words as they come out.

"What? Why? Are we getting married?" He assumes you say.

"No, I just thought, you know, since things were getting serious-"

"We are?!" You muffle with wide eyes.

Over the past days that you'd spent at Renjun's place without missing a single day (except for the 4 hours when you went to get your stuff... 4 hours that drove Renjun insane with fear that you wouldn't return), Renjun kind of started to wonder what it is that you're doing for a living that you can just disappear like that without anyone wondering where you are, but he noticed that you do not like to talk much about yourself. All he knows that your interests and taste are, quite frankly, scarily similar to his own. He assumes that you are just careful when it comes to opening up to people, so he is more than thrilled when he finds you next to him every single morning and decides that there will be a time and place for you to bond over deep talk.

"Calm down, I didn't mean it like that. It's just that we've been hanging out a lot and I think it would be... fun?" Renjun suggests carefully. A weight lifts off his heart as your wide eyes shrink back to their normal size and you take your time to chew and swallow before your answer.

"Okay." And then you stuff the other half of the steamed bun into your mouth.

"Great! I'll text them!"

"Today?!"

"We really have to stop talking about this while we eat."

"It's okay, do it whenever, honestly." But only muffled sounds and a few crumbs come out.

"What?"

You roll your eyes dramatically, then point yourself.

"You?"

You nod, then point to Renjun. "Me?"

Then you squiggle your pointer and forefinger in a way that resembles a pair of legs – "go?" – you nod, then point downwards – "here?" – you shake your head – "today?" – you nod frantically and press your pointer finger to your thumb – "okay?"

You finally swallow. "Man, I said it's okay if we go today."

"That was absolutely unnecessary. Now go get ready, I'll text them."

_____

"Where is your other half?"

"Probably inside of someone," Donghyuck says about the lack of Jaemin at the table, but his eyes are intensely focused on you. You on the other hand seem to have found great interest in your fingernails and refuse to take your eyes off of them. "Yo, is she shy or something?"

"I'm not," you say, your eyes snapping up to gaze at Donghyuck who looks a little taken aback. You smile sweetly, then reach over the table to shake his hand. "I'm sorry, I was just a little distracted. Hey, I'm the girl that Renjun fucks."

Renjun chokes on his own spit, and Donghyuck snorts loudly. You lean against the backrest of the McDonald's seat and grab Renjun's hand to hold. Renjun, finally recovered from his near-death-experience, can't believe what's happening as his eyes zone in to where your fingers intertwine with his. It even makes him miss that that was a complete lie since the no-sex-until-i-know-you-won't-leave-thing is still on the table.

"So, how is he? In bed, I mean?" Donghyuck folds his hands beneath his chin and leans forward interestedly.

"Oh, he's great, really! He doesn't look like it, but he has a lot of stamina. And, to be fair, he's not the biggest, but it gets the job done nicely, I especially love it when he-"

"Can we not talk about my dick in a McDonald's?! Please?!"

"Oop, looks like we hit a sore spot-" Donghyuck remarks.

"I am not insecure about- you know what? Fuck you. Go get the food, it's ready," Renjun snaps and pushes the receipt with the pick up number on it into Donghyuck's hand who throws you another knowing look before strolling off to get the food.

"I will not apologize for-"

"You're holding my hand," Renjun states.

"What?" Your eyebrows contort in confusion.

"My hand, you're holding it," Renjun says, lifting both of your hands into your line of sight to prove his point.

"Yeah, so?"

"I like that."

A genuine smile spreads over your face and you bite your lip, maybe to suppress it, but Renjun saw it, and look down at your lap. Donghyuck appears again, tray in hand, and Renjun would've missed your quiet whisper of "he likes that" if his entire world wasn't revolving around you right now.

"What are we talking about?" Donghyuck grins as he slides back onto his seat, immediately pulling a fry out of the box and dunking it in his milkshake. Renjun, still in awe that you're holding his hand, immediately notices how your face contorts in disgust.

"Why the fuck are you doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Dipping your fry."

Renjun watches with heart-shaped eyes how Donghyuck's mouth opens and closes for a lack of a proper response, because – shit – that is exactly what he's been thinking for the past five years.

"Because I like it?"

"Alright," you shrug, then attend to your cheeseburger. Renjun mirrors your action, lifting the top half of the bun to peel the single slice of pickle off the surface before sticking the burger back together, not noticing how you do the exact same thing until Donghyuck points it out.

"So? That's what it's like when you found a match. Another great advantage is having only one partner whom you engage in sexual activities with. Ah, by the way, how is your itchy sack?"

"Good one, babe," you compliment as Donghyuck's face falls onto his BigMac, and Renjun could not feel any better at that exact moment.

"Sorry I'm late!" The voice of no other than Na Jaemin appears behind Renjun only to reveal said man seconds later as he flops down next to Donghyuck, forcing him to squeeze further against the wall. Donghyuck complains, but no one pays him any mind.

A heavy grin adorns Jaemin's face, an expression Renjun's grown to know like the back of his own hand over the past years. Jaemin's post orgasm glow is so bright and blinding that Renjun's sure he must have just gotten a blowjob in the McDonald's bathroom. His tongue slurps parts of his McFlurry off his spoon. Renjun watches as Jaemin's gaze runs over to you, and as if someone's flipped a switch inside him, Jaemin's smile drops. If the sudden silence wasn't so ear numbing, one would've heard it smash to the ground and shatter into pieces. Even Donghyuck has stopped munching on his food to scan the situation, the end of a fry sticking out from between his lips.

Renjun's heart stops, then starts thumping up his throat as he slowly turns his head towards you, and this exact process repeats itself as he sees how pale you've gotten. Your eyes are trained on Jaemin, and Renjun can see you gulp once before you suddenly get up, the legs of the chair disgustingly scratching over the floor, and leave the fast food restaurant with hurried steps.

Despite desperately wanting to know what the fuck just happened, Renjun hastily gets up to run after you, calling out your name, once, twice, but when he reaches the doors, panting breath creating soft clouds in the cool air, you're out of sight.

_____

Ah, what a great morning. That is what Renjun would have thought if it was opposite day. He is devastated. You are nowhere to be found, the apartment empty since he returned and he still regrets not asking for your number sometime during the past days, though there was no need since you'd spend all your time at his place anyway. But now you're not. You're gone, and Jaemin refuses to let him in on what exactly happened between the two of you that made you leave the place in a hurry, only for Renjun to find Jaemin gone as well as soon as he returned. He only found Donghyuck sitting at the table, dragging his last fry through the milkshake. They finished their meal in silence.

As the doorbell rings, Renjun falls off the couch, scrambles up and runs to answer the door. It's not you, though, it's Donghyuck, who for once decided to be a good friend and check in on Renjun, even though the latter would rather just lie down in a puddle of his own tears, and sob.

"I'm sorry, man," Donghyuck says, dragging Renjun into his arms for comfort. Renjun simply sighs. The warmth of Donghyuck's hug does actually help ease some of the tension in his heart, and when they part, Renjun invites Donghyuck in for some tea.

"Do you know what happened?" Renjun asks as he hands Donghyuck his mug.

"Not a clue. Jaemin hasn't even been home. I have some theories, though." Donghyuck takes a sip and curses after burning his tongue.

"That are?" Renjun is actually relieved to have someone else break their brain over this situation that is not him.

"Number one: Jaemin is her lost brother."

Renjun blinks.

"Number two: Jaemin fucked her mother and destroyed her parent's marriage."

Renjun raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, number three: Jaemin fucked her mother and is her father."

Renjun raises a hand to slap him.

"Okay, okay! Sorry. Number four, and this actually goes two ways. Four point one: They fucked and she is the one girl that broke Jaemin's heart and made him this way."

Renjun does not like the sound of that at all.

"Four point two: They fucked and Jaemin broke her heart and that's why she can't commit."

"I hate all of your theories with my entire being," Renjun admits, "Do you have one that does not mean something bad?"

"Um..." Donghyuck thinks for a while that, admittedly, lasts too long for Renjun to relax, "Jaemin once saved her cat and she never got the chance to thank him because- he fucked her mom- I'M SORRY that's all I can think of."

Renjun sighs. "I don't know. I just wish she would care about me enough to just talk to me, you know?"

"I don't think that's the problem," Donghyuck suggests and Renjun looks away from his steaming mug and at Donghyuck instead. "I think she cares about you a lot, but there seems to be some sort of past trauma that makes it hard for her. I mean, I'm not a specialist since you" – a glaring Donghyuck points an accusing finger at Renjun – "refuse to update me about every little thing like I asked you to, but I don't think this has as much to do with you as you think."

"I've never thought about it that way," Renjun admits, and a little weight drops off his heart at the fact that he is possibly not at fault, and neither are you. "Thank you, Hyuck, honestly."

"No biggie." Donghyuck shrugs with a smug smirk. "You can pay me back in kind."

"What do you mean?"

"A smooch." Donghyuck puckers his lips, but at the same time, the doorbell rings a second time that day, causing Renjun to jump and run towards the obnoxious sound. This time, it really is you.

"Can we talk?" You ask as you stand in his doorway, and Renjun can't do anything but blink in awe because, honestly? He thought he'd never see you again.

"Um, not to be rude, but we're kind of in the middle of something here," Donghyuck says with his lips still puckered for Renjun to kiss. Renjun, without taking his eyes off of you in case you'd vaporize once he looked away for even a split second, ushers Donghyuck to leave since, "he was on his way out, actually."

Not without throwing a little tantrum, Donghyuck lets himself get pushed out of Renjun's apartment. Renjun whispers another 'thank you' and blows him a kiss before closing the door in Donghyuck's face.

_____

"I didn't know you started smoking again," Renjun comments as you sit on his sad excuse of a balcony.

"This is for the vibe," you say, and blow the smoke into the air. "And maybe I had a drink."

"Okay."

Silence.

"This is really scary for me," you admit, and Renjun assumes that you're talking about opening up.

"You can trust me, I'm not going anywhere," Renjun assures, placing a careful arm around your waist and a kiss to your temple.

"Jaemin was my first love."

Renjun gulps. He feels a little part of his heart break off and shatter against his ribcage, leaving a stinging pain behind. Great, so you know Jaemin, and not only that, he happened to be the first one you've ever let into your heart. Renjun assumes that it's been a couple of years since then, but knowing Jaemin, he couldn't possibly be the best first love, or a good one even. Don't get him wrong, he dearly loves Jaemin – in a platonic way – but the way he treats girls is not something he should be as proud of as he is. But maybe he hasn't always been like this. Maybe you were the one to make him like this.

"Go on," Renjun finally coughs out. His hands feel a little shaky, maybe even a little sweaty, and he feels the need to wrap them around the metal railing separating him from free falling to his death.

"It was back in school. I fell for him immediately. He made me feel like the only girl in the world."

Renjun dares to look over at you to watch you sigh, dragging on your cigarette once again. You look incredibly pained, and as much as he wants you to shut up because it seems to be hurting not only him, but you as well, he needs to know.

"Well, that was until he took my virginity. Never saw him again after that until," you pause, clear your throat and take a deep breath and continue pressed with your eyes closed, "until today."

Renjun takes a minute to calm down his mind from running thoughts on overspeed. "I'm- so sorry that happened to you. I wish I could say he's not like that anymore, but... well, his moral compass enhanced a little... um..." Renjun removes his hands from the railing, wiping them on his jeans, then turns to you. "Look, I can see why you wouldn't want to hang out w-"

"No," you interrupt him, dragging on your cigarette once more before carelessly flicking the bud onto the streets below, then you turn to him, take a careful step forward and take his hands into yours. "I trust you. I want you to be the right one. I want you to break this pattern, I want you to change my future."

Renjun does not know how to respond. There's a part of him that wants to pay Jaemin a visit and punch him, but he knows better than to start a physical fight with Na Jaemin, the local gym's best customer. And besides, what would it matter? It's not like violence would change anything. "May I hug you?"

You nod, and Renjun wraps his arms around you to pull you into his chest. His chin rests in the crook of your neck, breathing in the sweet scent of your shampoo, and he is not sure whether it's a good thing that he falls for you more and more every second he spends with you.

_____

Renjun decided that it would be best not to see Jaemin for some time, mostly in favor of his own well being considering that Jaemin would dominate him if it ever came to a physical confrontation. Instead, he focuses his energy on making you feel loved and protected, and makes sure he never gives you the impression of leaving you. He mostly enjoys the quiet nights with you, creating as much physical contact as possible without being uncomfortable, and freely talking into the rise of the sun.

Renjun learned that it's only been you and your mom, most of the time, since your dad cheated on her when you were still a child. Then, as soon as you turned eighteen and got your first real job, your mother left the country. Not without saying goodbye, but apparently, she made it clear that she didn't want to stay in contact. Ever since, it's only been you. You'd always been by yourself, having to care for yourself, working hard to make enough money to be able to afford rent and food. In a way, you had raised yourself to be independent, and your past encounter with Jaemin must have just intensified your bias not to trust men after what your father did to your mother.

Still, that's all Renjun knows about you. And after 3 months of living together, he kind of wishes to know where you live – well, when you're not living with him – what you do for a job, if you have any friends for him to meet, but all he knows is your zodiac sign. Although, he calms himself down by telling himself that you need time to build up trust. After everything that's happened to you, Renjun is the last person wanting to pressure you.

It's only that one particular conversation with his friend Donghyuck he doesn't seem to be able to let go.

"How long have you been living together?" Donghyuck asked as he ripped a small piece off of the bread in his hand to throw it into the pile of ducks gathered in front of them at the pond at the local park. Donghyuck loves to go there to feed the ducks, and Renjun almost found it cute until Donghyuck told him the real reason behind his regular visits to feed the ducks at the pond: picking up girls.

Donghyuck swears that this is the perfect way to get a "chick" (his words, not Renjun's) to fall for you. Either they love this sweet, domestic side of a man who is soft enough to go feed ducks in his spare time which inevitably makes him boyfriend material, or they're there with their kids and- Renjun can't recall how this was different from the first thing. He only remembers thinking that Donghyuck has a weird obsession with older women, and the freudian curiosity in Renjun kind of pushes him to find out more about what that's about. Maybe another time.

"Almost three months," Renjun smiled widely, ready to spill information about all the great memories he had made with you over the past 11 weeks, like when he accidentally sent the pizza delivery guy to the wrong address or when the both of you giggled too loudly at a YouTube video until his downstairs neighbor knocked at his door and begged for you to shut up (admittedly, there's not much going on), but Donghyuck interrupted him with his hand hitting Renjun square in his solar plexus.

"Three months?! Woah, get it champ! How often do you do it?" Donghyuck asked, completely ignoring the way Renjun had to fight not to double over and slide face forward into the pond.

"We-" Renjun coughed and was finally able to stand up straight again. "We actually don't have sex at all."

In hindsight, Renjun's knowledge of physics and anatomy make him doubt the reaction he remembers, but he vividly recalls Donghyuck's eyes to drive out of his skull as he jumped about 3 meters into the air. Summarized: Donghyuck was a little surprised!

"Um, well, I didn't think it would hit you this early, but there are ways, man." Donghyuck patted Renjun's shoulder brotherly. "I still have a few pills at home if you want to try them. I get them from this one guy, and they're worth every penny, let me tell you-"

"I do not suffer from erectile disfunction," Renjun clarified and Donghyuck quickly shut his mouth, blinked a few times, then began to defend himself about how he doesn't need them to get hard, just to stay hard longer or whatever.

"Anyway," Renjun side-eyed Donghyuck as he finally stopped talking, "I just... don't want her to leave me again."

"Ah, that's how the land lies," Donghyuck grinned, "but buddy, it's been months, don't you miss it?"

"Not really," Renjun lied without cause.

"Don't you miss the way it feels?" Donghyuck leaned closer, warm breath tickling Renjun's ear and neck, his voice getting whiney and full of lust as he explained the warm, wet feeling of a-

"Okay, maybe I do!" Renjun said in defeat, holding onto Donghyuck's hands to stop them for making lewd gestures.

"Then there's nothing stopping you. Well, except for the fact that it's very weird how she just lives with you. Doesn't she have a job? Does she pay rent?" Donghyuck frowned at Renjun with raised eyebrows.

Renjun squinted his eyes at him, frowning as well. "Where is this coming from?!"

"I'm just saying, you should ask her about that." Donghyuck shrugged and poured the remaining bread crumbs from his paper bag onto the ground, causing ducks to zoom out of the water and gather around their feet.

"I don't want to pressure her. You know how hard it is for her to open up," Renjun reasoned, but Donghyuck seemed to be having ulterior motives, throwing a wink into the direction of a middle aged woman with a stroller. Renjun watched for a few moments as Donghyuck pressed his tongue into his cheek smugly, then shouted "just gave him some relationship advice while feeding the ducks", and how the woman chuckled and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, then decided he's seen enough.

Sadly, turning off one's ears had not been invented yet, Renjun thought as he stepped away after patting disinterested Donghyuck's shoulder as goodbye, still hearing Donghyuck ask her about the child's father, how come such a beautiful woman doesn't have a strong man at her side, and what she's going to be doing tonight.

_____

"Baby?" Renjun enters the living room to find you sitting in front of the couch on the carpet, carelessly browsing through a magazine with your playlist randomly playing tunes in the background.

"Hey!" Your eyes light up as you see him. Renjun sits down beside you, a slight smile on his face as he takes in how beautiful you look tonight, just like all nights.

"What are you up to?" He asks, curiously leaning forward to be able to look at the magazine as well.

"It's just a women's magazine, it's like fashion and make-up trends an stuff," you explain briefly still scanning through the pages before your eyes light up once again as you turn to look at Renjun.

"What?" Renjun chuckles nervously, but simultaneously loving the look on your face.

"Could I.. do your make-up?" You ask straightforwardly. Renjun's eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise, mouth shaping an 'o' as he looks up thinking about it briefly. He's never gotten his make-up done before, and although the thought had never occurred to him before, it does sound like a fun couple's activity to do together that could lead to excellent bonding time. Therefore, he smiles and nods at your request.

Renjun coos at how you get up to grab your make-up bag with a slight excited jump in your walk, then watches how you lean down to fish it out of your bag, gulping hard and averting his gaze as you so carelessly present your ass to him. The conversation with Donghyuck still playing in his mind, he realizes that, apart from wanting to know more about you, he really does miss being inside of you physically.

Before he knows it, you're back on the carpet next to him, opening your bag to reveal the endless depths of its contents, various pencils and brushes, tubes and bottles that Renjun knows close to nothing about.

"What do you want me to do?" You ask, and Renjun smiles contently.

"Whatever you want, I'm yours to play with," he confirms before realizing the ambiguous meaning of his words. He still means them, in both ways.

Although, you do not seem to be catching on, shuffling to sit in front of Renjun instead to have a better look at his handsome face. "Your skin is pretty, so let's skip foundation," you decide and Renjun's smile grows at the implied compliment. Instead, you brush his messy bangs out of his face to be able to get a better look at his eyes.

"Can I do your eyeliner?" You ask, gazing deeply into his eyes, and honestly, you could've asked him to jump out of the window and he'd respond with the same breathy 'yes' he did just now. Especially now after you've climbed into his lap for better access.

"Okay," you giggle, now a black pencil in your hand, "look up!"

Renjun does his best to follow your orders, but the eyeliner feels very foreign on his eyes, and as you ask him to look down next, he is met with your cleavage greeting him, and he has to concentrate on not popping a boner instead.

After a while, you lean back, admiring your work as Renjun blinks a few tears away.

"You look pretty," you admit, handing Renjun a little mirror to see for himself. And as he catches his own reflection, he must admit that you're right. He does look pretty, but honestly, he could've looked like trash right now and he'd still do this over and over again just to be close to you.

"Thank you, I agree!" He smiles, handing you the mirror back.

"How about lipstick next?" You suggest and Renjun's eyes immediately dart down to your lips, remembering the last time his own lips touched them for longer than a quick peck, and longing for that feeling. So instead of answering, he nods, trying his best to conceal his nervousness.

A lipstick in hand, you get comfortable on his lap again, seemingly either ignoring or not caring what your shuffling does to him, then attend to his lips. Renjun's now able to watch your face closely as you apply the tinted product onto his lips, falling in love with the way you look when you concentrate on something.

Your gentle fingers tap the lipstick onto his lips, spreading the color gently to create a faded look, but Renjun doesn't really care anymore. His eyes keep focussing on your lips, yearning to taste them again, and he feels like it's showing with the way he keeps leaning in closer.

His heart skips a beat as he looks up into your eyes again to see them already looking into his, and he doesn't even have to say anything before you close the gap in between your mouths and begin kissing him gently, leaving one, two, three kisses on his lips before drawing back to look into his eyes again.

No words are exchanged, it's just him who leans in this time, breathing in deeply through his nose as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. He completely loses himself in you and the slow song playing in the background. Your lips feel heavenly, and Renjun admits that it's really been too long since the last time he got to taste them.

Your hands stroke over his body just as his do to yours, gentle moans fall from both of your lips as you carefully grind down against Renjun's prominent bulge. It doesn't take long for him to turn you around, gently laying you on your back to the soft carpet, caging you in with his arms and deeply gazing into your eyes. You strip each other of every piece of clothing, taking your sweet time to show the other how you feel, and as Renjun finally enters you, he feels like this is where he belongs.

_____

"Hyuck, I'm telling you, it was absolutely fantastic," Renjun beams, hands in the air metaphorically mimicking a large object to visualize how much fun he's had with you the night prior.

"I'm guessing the rule of premarital abstinence is off the table?" Donghyuck teases, face mockingly serious, though a brow sneaks its way upwards to hint at his playfulness. Renjun presses his lips together, hands sinking to the table.

"You are just jealous that woman in the park only wanted you to be her new babysitter," Renjun shoots back.

"That's what her mouth said, but do you know what her body said to me about thirty minutes later as I rammed my dick in her?" Donghyuck crosses his arms, pressing his tongue into his cheek smugly, and Renjun just stares blankly ahead, right through Donghyuck's insufferable ego as if it was see-through and not as solid as concrete. Donghyuck leans forwards, forearms holding his weight hovering over the tabletop.

"Ah, fuck, you're so big, Donghyuck. Please, d-don't tell my husband. H-he really can't find out that you're making m-me feel so much better than him, ugh, God, I wish you were the father of my children," Donghyuck moans, high pitched and fake like a porn star, and Renjun snorts, laughter that threatened to come out winning the battle against his muscles, and he's sure he spit on Donghyuck in the process. Payback.

"Sorry," Renjun says and doesn't mean it, "have you talked to your therapist about this 'Mommy'-thing?" Donghyuck sighs and rolls his eyes.

"It's not a 'Mommy'-thing. I don't want them to be my mom, I don't want them to pack me a lunch box and sing me a lullaby," Donghyuck explains.

"Then, what?" The corners of Renjun's mouth twitching downwards, threatening another wave of laughter to burst out with vigor.

"Older ladies know what they want in life. They went through labor and stuff and mostly already found a man, so when they want me, I feel good. Also, they know how to please a guy, you know?" Donghyuck says, and Renjun's eyes are about to pop out from the sole pressure of trying to keep his amusement from spitting Donghyuck in the face again.

"Alright, then, if my love life is so laughable, why don't you give me some insight on how great your girlfriend's cunt squeezes around your dick?" Donghyuck crosses his arms, meaning to sound petty and passive-aggressive, even though Renjun knows that he is eager to hear every little detail.

"Does everything have to be this graphic with you?" Renjun contorts his face in faux disgust, but huffs out a chuckle, not ready to admit that, in all honesty, Donghyuck's words sent him right back to last night when you came around him, milking him for all he's worth.

"It does. Whether you like it or not, this is what you signed up for when you started calling me your friend. Now spill," Donghyuck raises a threatening finger.

"I don't know if I'm comfortable giving out information to fuel your next wanking session with my girlfriend," Renjun notes, but continues to spill the details nonetheless. "So, all in all, very romantic until I was like 5 seconds pre-orgasm and 'Jopping' started playing."

"Did you-"

"I did nut to 'Jopping'."

"I guess you were really jumping and popping," Donghyuck examines, then thinks a little longer, "I guess you were a big boy throwing three stacks."

Renjun looks at him, lips turning into a thin line before he slaps his thighs and gets up. "I think I should go?"

"I guess you really made it bang," Donghyuck says and gets up as well, following Renjun into the hallway with quick footsteps. "I guess you really made the crowd go wild in a small room."

"Stop!" Renjun begs, giggling nevertheless as he slips his jacket on.

"I guess you really got that glow."

"Donghyuck!!" Renjun shrieks, not even fully slipping into his shoes before he grabs his bag and opens the door, Donghyuck behind him clutching his stomach laughing. Though, Renjun gets surprised by someone already standing outside the door, the grin immediately falling off his face as he sees who it is.

"I guess it's in your- " Donghyuck starts, but the second he sees the person in front of the door, his laughter dies down, "... nature."

"Hello, stranger," Renjun says sarcastically, squinting his eyes at Jaemin who simply gulps. It's not like Jaemin to not say anything, or to not smile. Renjun immediately feels a little sorry, but at the same time, he doesn't.

Jaemin simply nods before squeezing in between Renjun and the wooden door frame, kicking his shoes off hastily and hurrying past a flabbergasted Donghyuck towards his room. Renjun's eyes follow him disappear, and when he hears the door to Jaemin's room close shut, he feels reminded of how things really started going downwards as soon as you crossed paths with Jaemin again. Of course it bothers him knowing one of his best bros 1) had his dick in Renjun's girlfriend and 2) broke her heart and scarred her for life. What bothers him almost more is how things went well, they were okay, but now Jaemin needed to show up again and make Renjun question everything he's built with you.

What if Donghyuck is right? What if it really is weird that you keep staying at his place? Why is there never a place you have to be? Admittedly, Renjun had pushed this uncomfortable feeling of something being off with your stay to the very back of his brain, not wanting to destroy what you have, not wanting to waste his last chance for love because of something as insignificant as 'oh no, my girlfriend won't leave and I also don't want her to', but suppressing worries is never the answer. No matter how far you push them away, they always resurface to bite you in the butt. And sometimes they bite you in the butt in human form with a perfect, pearly-white set of teeth and eyes that seem alarmingly less sparkly than usual.

Renjun decides that he has to get a grip. He's been so blinded by love, or whatever it is right now that's surely developing into love, that he just let you step into his life, ruin one of his dearest friendships and keep eating the contents of his fridge when he's not home. All this, he tells himself on the way home, passing by a group of guys hanging out in the park together drinking. He sighs. Wasn't it always bros before hoes? Pals before gals? Homies before blow-me's? Does that still apply when the homie is in the wrong?

_____

"Darling?" Renjun whispers as he enters your (at this point) shared home. The lights are turned off, your figure nowhere to be found. Renjun sighs, slowly unties his shoe laces, takes his sneakers off and places them by the door carefully. He realizes most of his shoes are carelessly thrown all over the place, and so are yours. After the sixth pair he's carefully put into storage, he realizes what he's doing.

"You stupid gremlin, just ask her. Stop wasting time," Renjun tells himself, finally taking off his jacket and hanging it up.

"Ask me what?"

Renjun swears his soul leaves his body for a good 10 seconds before he can breathe again. Your silhouette stands in the doorway to his bedroom, the light of the lampposts outside shining on your backside, hugging your curves and making you look like an angel. Renjun curses his artistic eye in moments like these.

"You scared the crap out of me," he giggles, a little intimidated and, truthfully, freaked out at the way you just stand there, seemingly faceless because of the darkness.

"Aww, I'm sorry," you say, and approach him, hugging his cool figure into your arms. Hesitantly, Renjun hugs you back. Something inside him tells him that you're hiding something. "Where were you so long?"

Renjun breathes in slowly, then out through his nose. "Just walking around, needed to think." He's telling the truth.

"Are you okay?" You pull back, looking at his face gently illuminated by the moon. Very lightly, Renjun can make out the lines of worry on your face. He lets out a shaky breath.

"We need to talk."

Another layer of clothing lighter, Renjun sits down on the bed next to you, sweatpants and a white shirt replacing his earlier clothes that kept him from freezing in the cool weather of an early October. The expression on your face is unreadable, though you look not happy, but rather full of worry, sadness and a pinch of anger.

"Okay, this... this is not an easy thing to ask," Renjun finally starts, hating the tension that's so thick one could cut it with a knife.

"Please, um-" you stop him before anymore words can leave his mouth, glossed over eyes finding his gaze and the sight makes Renjun's heart ache. Never have you looked so raw, so fragile, so... broken? "Let me say something first, okay?"

Renjun nods, sucking his lower lip into his mouth to chew on it. His heart beats fast, the sight of you in front of him almost making him forget why he marched through the streets of this town for hours with no physical goal, but only to make sense of the mess clouding his brain.

"I don't know... what exactly you're going to ask me, but-" you halt and stare downwards into your lap where your shaky hands are nervously fumbling with each other. "Whatever it is, whether you want to break up with me, I just want you to know that-" you gulp, voice shaky, "that I've never felt loved in my life except for when I was with you. You really showed me what love is, Jun. You made me love you. So, um..." you breathe out shakily, two tears rolling down and falling towards your hands as they reach the apples of your cheeks. "Thank you for your time and efforts. You really are the best person I've ever met."

_____

"You are fucking weak!" Donghyuck scolds, a little less playfully than usual.

"You don't get it, Hyuck. You weren't there. The sight would even have broken your sad excuse of a heart," Renjun defends himself.

"Excuse me? Just because my heart has Milf-shaped holes in it doesn't mean I don't feel empathy!" Donghyuck throws in, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Renjun feels a little less confident in his decision of letting you be than a few minutes ago. "What did you ask instead?"

Renjun bites his tongue. Admittedly, a day later, the decision doesn't seem as logical as it did hidden under the secure blankets of a dark night. "I asked if she wanted to meet my parents?"

Donghyuck laughs out, once, and very loud, then turns his body to Renjun and places his hands on the older's thighs. "And let me guess." He raises his eyebrows in amusement. Renjun is not amused. "She was like: 'oh my God, Junnie! Why didn't you just say that?' And playfully slapped your arm, and you somehow ended up with your dick so deep in her you could feel hear stomach acid."

"Ew, what the fuck?" Renjun's eyes widen, eyebrows furrowing, his mouth agape in horror. "Y-you know that's not how the female body works, right?"

"How would I know?" Donghyuck retorts, shrugging.

Renjun groans in frustration, hiding his face in his hands. Donghyuck is right. He shouldn't have let you off the hook so easily. He has the right to know! He deserves to have all the answers to his questions. He is honestly one incident away from making an AITA post on Reddit.

"Hey, hey," Donghyuck gently removes Renjun's hands from his face, letting his hands linger on the older's wrists, "don't beat yourself up, Jun. It's not your fault. If the pussy is tight, the pussy is tight, and there is nothing we can do about it. She's in your head, while you should be in her head – literally."

Renjun rolls his eyes.

"No, for real, though." Donghyuck softly slaps the back of Renjun's birthmarked hand. "Women have a different kind of power over us mortals." He looks deeply into Renjun's eyes. "You really like her, don't you?"

Renjun nods. "I might even use the other L-word."

"Okay, here's the thing," Donghyuck announces, now taking both of Renjun's hands in his, cheesily interlocking their fingers which Renjun chooses to ignore, "meeting your parents is great. I mean, inevitably, they're gonna ask her about her job, won't they?"

A spark of hopeful light appears in Renjun's eyes. "You're right. Thank you, Hyuck."

"Kiss me, then," Donghyuck says and winks. Renjun forcefully pulls his hands from Donghyuck's grip. "In your dreams."

"You don't wanna know what happens in my dreams, my dear Renjun," Donghyuck smirks and Renjun decides that this conversation has to end here.

"How are things with Jaemin?" He therefore asks, leaning back in his chair to create a bigger distance between him and the lecher.

"He's in and out, mostly when he knows I'm not around. I think I'm going to trap him later today when he comes home, and make him tell me what the fuck his problem is," Donghyuck explains matter-of-factly. Renjun admires Donghyuck for his confrontation abilities. Of course, Donghyuck is not as in the middle of all this as Renjun, but he himself would've dreaded running into Jaemin randomly in the hallway, would probably put a tracking device on Jaemin so he can properly avoid him, and – Heaven forbid – would not try to corner him and make him spill. Renjun really hates confrontation, he always has when it comes to people he's close with, that he likes, or rather: that he's afraid of losing, and this is probably one of the reasons why he finds it abnormally hard to tickle the kind of information out of you that he needs to sleep peacefully at night.

Either way, Donghyuck will get Jaemin, and his parents will get you, and Renjun gets all the information he needs without having to put in even an ounce of effort. Slowly, Renjun realizes that this is not that great of a foundation for a good relationship, platonically or romantically. Yeah, admittedly, he feels a bit like a wimp.

_____

Renjun's heart beats up his throat for no apparent reason, except for the fact that he's currently standing in front of his parents' house, having just pressed his finger into the button for the doorbell seconds prior. On his other hand: you, dressed up nicely as if you're trying to impress his parents, inevitably leading to a new hatch of butterflies dancing around in Renjun's stomach. He also quite enjoys the way your palm is a bit sweaty as you cling to his hand, proving that you're nervous, which means that you care. Renjun really likes imagining that you care.

"Son!" Renjun's father opens the door and pulls him into a strong, manly hug, his dad's large palm coming down on his back to knock the air out of him. Seconds later, the hug is over, and Renjun's father examines you.

You smile sweetly, holding his hand out for him to shake. Renjun's dad raises his eyebrows, grins, then shakes your hand aggressively. "Son, I gotta say-"

"Please refrain," Renjun pleads, and pulls you into the house. You both take your shoes off and enter the living room containing Renjun's mom who quickly fluffs out the pillows, then turns to you.

"It's great to meet you," she says, shakes your hand and throws Renjun a wink. Renjun cringes. He really loves his parents – well, his mom first and foremost, but yeah – but they have a disgruntling tendency to embarrass him. His mother, the social butterfly she is, immediately picks up a conversation with you and, to Renjun's upmost joy, you seem thrilled about it, your eyes sparkling as you talk to his mother. It's good, don't get him wrong, but beyond the surface, it's bad. There is a reason Renjun brought you here, well, not that it's the sole reason, but Renjun still needs to find out what it is that you do for a living, and when he gets blinded by this mind-numbing feeling of being absolutely in love with the way you get along with his mother, the dearest woman in his life, he will forget about it.

Hence, he excuses himself to see his father in the kitchen, preparing the food. Not that any of you or his mother would even notice his absence as Renjun's mom is already on her way to the shelf in the corner to pull out photo albums containing Renjun's best and worst memories growing up. But even as he stands in the kitchen, his gaze darts over through the open door to investigate your figure hunched over the printed stages of Renjun's puberty, giggling wholeheartedly over his mother's remarks about all of his friends in the past. His mother has always been good with names and faces.

Even later at the dinner table, Renjun is not able to concentrate one his father's cooking, or the light conversation taking place over the amount of food on the table that could feed an entire baseball team for three weeks. There is only one single thing on Renjun's mind: what is it that you are hiding?

Thankfully – might it be the telekinetic bond he has with his mother or just simple human interest – Renjun's mom, after a minute of silent munching, pipes up and throws the question into the room.

"Our Renjun worked hard to be a freelancer," she chuckles and briefly touches Renjun's forearm resting beside his plate, causing Renjun's ears to pipe up and his eyes to widen. "What is it that you do for a living?"

Renjun feels as if time stops, presumably because it does take you a little while to answer. You visibly gulp at the question, eyes avoiding every person at the table. "Well," you begin, then look up at everyone. You blink a few times and wet your lips before continuing. "I recently lost my job and am looking for something else at the moment." Your gaze catches Renjun's who can't hide his surprise. "Which is why I am extremely grateful for Renjun being there for me right now."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Renjun's mom comforts, a sad look on her face.

"It's okay. I mean- the firm had to ax jobs because of insolvency, so there wasn't really anything I could do about it." You nod to yourself. The following awkwardness lies heavily in the air, and before Renjun's father can even think about bringing alcohol to the table, his mother pipes up once again.

"Don't worry about it, dear. You are still young, there will be lots of job opportunities in the future, I'm sure of it," she smiles encouragingly and you manage to send a slight smile back. "Which reminds me!"

This time, Renjun's mom playfully pinches her husband's shoulder who dramatically mewls at the action. "We were just your age when we met!"

"Oh, really?" You smile widely, interested in the story Renjun's mom tells next, going into almost every detail regarding their first encounter. Renjun, having listened to this exact story countless times, relaxes in his seat. He feels a bit bad that he basically forced you to reveal this probably embarrassing detail about yourself in front of his parents the first time you meet them, but a much bigger part of him is just relieved since, basically, this explains it all. Maybe he should feel a bit used, a bit hurt that you didn't trust him enough to share this detail of your life with him, but on the other hand: he is just glad you're not secretly a serial killer or do porn. Not that there's anything wrong with that, he'd just like to know.

In the midst of his mom's speech, he catches your eyes and sends you a gentle smile which you reciprocate. His hand gently squeezes your thigh under the table, and he is pleasantly surprised as your hand finds his, casually interlocking your fingers with his and putting them on display on the table top.

"Well, good thing you met him before the year ended," Renjun's mother finishes. Renjun's eyes almost pop out of their sockets. Why would she bring that up?

"Why? What's happening at the end of the year?" You ask curiously.

"Christmas!" Renjun says, a bit too loud maybe, since all eyes are on him all of a sudden. "You know, cuffin' season. Heh..."

The day ends pleasantly. Renjun has to fight both of his parents off as they try to make you stay over night or "at least for another shot". Oh no, he has to get you home and, to be completely honest, right into his bed, or preferably the closest surface to the front door that you're willing to take him on. Not even the little remark his mother had whispered to him as he was waiting by the door for you to finish up in the bathroom can make him want you any less right now: "I'm so sure I know her from somewhere."

_____

Days pass and Renjun is on cloud nine. Things are going absolutely great with you, you do fun stuff together, and Renjun can have his little daddy moments every once in a while when you ask him to help you with your job search. He feels giddy all over when he goes to bed, and possibly even giddier when he wakes up to you soundly snoring in his arms. Life is perfect.

But Renjun wouldn't be Renjun if he didn't worry about something, and this time it is the last obstacle to overcome for this to be the absolute perfect relationship: you have to vibe with his friends. Well, first of all, he himself has to start vibing with all of his friends again. He has not seen or heard of Jaemin since he met him that day, and Donghyuck had either forgotten to corner the younger male, or forgotten to tell Renjun about it (classic Donghyuck).

Hence, Renjun calls Donghyuck (so he can't forget to respond to his messages) and makes a plan to meet. Said meeting actually occurs on the same day since Donghyuck feared Jaemin would flee the country if they didn't hurry.

About an hour later – and don't ask him how he convinced you to do this (he might have been using the short post-orgasm timeframe to suggest it when your mind was still cloudy and you were grinning like you were out of your mind) – you appear in front of Donghyuck and Jaemin's apartment.

Before Renjun can even reach out to ring the doorbell, Donghyuck rips open the door, shushes the both of you and hurries you inside. Shoes off, you all meet at the stinky kitchen table and Renjun is reminded of his first encounter with you that he had spilled about at this very table. He finds it a funny little memory.

"Jaemin is in his room," Donghyuck whispers and Renjun can smell the garlic fried chicken he must have had earlier in his breath.

"You didn't tell him we were coming?" Renjun whisper-shouts back and purposely avoids looking at you because he already knows of the disapproving stare the back of his head is receiving right now.

"One: he just had a girl over, and even though I seem like the type to barge into a room that reeks of sex to witness Jaemin balls deep in a chick, I've seen enough of that. Two: if I had told him, he would've possibly taken off no questions asked," Donghyuck reasons and Renjun has to, once again, question why Donghyuck always has to verbally visualize all the tmi details of his speech. Renjun turns to look at you, and you look unsure. Although you had voiced your concerns on the way here, and Renjun had to make you promise not to bail on him, he gets where you're coming from.

Taking you aside (turning around since Donghyuck is openly swiping on his tinder right now that Renjun knows he hasn't set an age limit to) he asks, "Are you okay with this?"

You take a deep breath before nodding. "I want to do this for you, Jun."

Renjun has to ask himself when he started to connect the feeling of love with the desire for sex because why is the first though that comes to mind to bend you over the sticky counter and have his balls slap against your thighs? On that note, he also should stop hanging out with Donghyuck so much if this is how his mind describes sex...

Instead, he presses a kiss to your lips, and apparently Donghyuck's forgotten about his rule of being quiet because he 'ooohh's and laughs dirtily. Renjun simply pays him no mind, unlike you who raises a questioning eyebrow.

"I say I go in first, prepare him for what's to come, and then get him out here so we can all talk," Renjun suggests and everyone nods in agreement. "And Donghyuck-"

"Hm?"

"Leave my girlfriend alone while I'm gone." Renjun squints at Donghyuck.

"I'll try my best." Donghyuck winks at him before brushing his tongue over his front teeth and then biting the air in your direction. Renjun cringes.

"I can defend myself, don't you worry," you confirm with a smile and Renjun wants to kiss the floor you're walking on. Well, maybe not this floor since he is sure that ketchup stain by the fridge has been there since they moved in and got McDonald's on the first night.

"Oh, you know martial arts?" Donghyuck questions with raised eyebrows and great interest.

"No, but I can aim for your balls!" You explain, nodding excitedly.

"Be careful, he might enjoy that," Renjun comments before leaving towards Jaemin's room. He can hear Donghyuck silently arguing his statement in the background before promising you that he would not enjoy that, even though everyone present knows that's a lie. Renjun giggles one last time before turning the corner and stepping into the narrow hallway leading to Donghyuck's and Jaemin's bedrooms while wishing they would open a window every once in a while.

The few steps to Jaemin's door seem endless, especially as Renjun walks past Donghyuck's room that he had forgotten to close the door to, greeting Renjun with the pleasant sight of a fleshlight. Renjun whines quietly, but realizes nonetheless that he is happy to be Donghyuck's friend. He might be disgusting, but it's actually kind of funny.

So, without proper preparation of what to say, Renjun arrives at Jaemin's door. His hand hesitates in front of the "alpha male", "gym bro" and "Fortnite" stickers on Jaemin's door before he actually manages to knock.

The second Jaemin takes to offer him to enter stretches like gum.

"Did you forget something, bunny?" Jaemin asks as soon as the door opens. Renjun is greeted with the sight of Jaemin's massive back facing him as he sits at his desk, an online poker game decorating the large screen in front of him.

Given the nickname, Renjun doubts that Jaemin has any clue that it's him in his room right now. He tries to think of a cocky answer, but he has never been the spontaneous type, so all that comes out is "call me bunny one more time and i might kiss you" and Renjun has no idea where that came from. Still, it does the job of making Jaemin spin around in his chair, eyes wide in shock as he sees Renjun (and not bunny) stand in the doorway.

It's been a while since Renjun's seen Jaemin, and that might be one of the reasons why he finds himself staring at the younger's chest muscles for a bit too long for it to be a coincidence.

Once he's managed to peel his eyes off of Jaemin's nude upper body (he is glad he's wearing boxer shorts, at least) he aims to say something again since Jaemin's sure taking a long time to respond.

"Good day, sir," Renjun says and frowns at how awkward he is. Finally, a chuckle escapes Jaemin. Renjun also isn't sure why he's being so nice to Jaemin. Last time he checked, he was furious and wanted Jaemin to suffer a pussy-less summer. Maybe it's because everything else is perfect right now, and he doesn't have it in him to feel angry anymore.

"Hello, Jun," Jaemin finally says before getting up and wrapping his meaty arms around Renjun who experiences a weird mixture of relief, a spark of arousal, and the feeling of being crushed to death, so he just gently pads Jaemin's body in return. When Jaemin finally lets go of him, holding him by his shoulders and gently shaking him, Renjun reminds himself of all the disgusting things in this room alone so he can stop finding his best friend hot (namely: the dead cactus by the dirty window, the trash can that's spilling over with used tissues and condom wrappers, the countless empty bottles scattered around the place, most of which still containing an unnaturally colored fluid and some of which sporting little white clumps, the pin-up-girl-posters, the old gym socks all over the floor that he can smell from here, and the thick layer of dust on- basically everything Jaemin doesn't touch every day). It helps.

Jaemin steps back, opens a window and lights a cigarette.

"So, uh," Renjun starts, "don't freak out."

Jaemin nods and smiles.

"But I'm here with," Renjun halts to force down a smile and fail, "with my girlfriend. And don't feel pressured right now! It's all good. But we.. we came to talk things out."

Jaemin is not smiling anymore, but nods nonetheless. Renjun feels a bit bad, a bit selfish, even.

"Would you, uh-" Renjun scratches the back of his head before stepping towards the window as well because the distance is making him feel a lot more awkward "Would you mind telling me what happened? Back then?"

"She didn't tell you?" Jaemin questions, and Renjun is trying his best to decipher how Jaemin is feeling right now. Is he upset? Does he care?

"She did, but... I wanted to hear your side of the story. You're my best friend, after all," Renjun admits, eyes wandering around the room awkwardly before looking at Jaemin again. He is a bit glad his fingers find an old gum wrapper on the window sill to fiddle with. "I know it probably didn't feel like that for you in the past weeks. I'm sorry. It should've been bros before hoes but-"

"I know, you're a hopeless romantic, Jun," Jaemin reasons, "no need to apologize. I guess I just didn't like getting confronted with my ugly past."

"I get that," Renjun says and smiles slightly. Next thing he knows, Jaemin's pressing a kiss to his forehead. Renjun turns beet red within seconds. "Stop it, idiot, I have a girlfriend."

Jaemin laughs loudly. "What, am I your gay awakening?"

"You know very well who my gay awakening was." Renjun thinks back to his high school days, especially that one kid, tall, handsome, loud and a little stupid. Oh, meow, his first love.

Jaemin ruffles his hair. "So, my side of the story, huh?" He leans on his forearms and looks out the window, blowing the smoke into the cold air. Renjun, already shivering a little, wonders how Jaemin's not dying from the cold right now. "There is not much to it, really. I was a horny teenager, she was a pretty girl. It was not cool of me to just – y'know – hit and run. I have learned since then. Girls know what they get themselves into when they hop into my bed, I make it very clear."

"Very noble of you," Renjun says, and he hopes it doesn't sound sarcastic to Jaemin's ears. This might not be Renjun's preferred lifestyle, but to each their own, who is he to judge? "I'm just hoping this won't stand between us."

"Oh, don't worry. I won't fuck your girlfriend again," Jaemin promises, snapping the bud of the cigarette out the window.

"Not what I meant-" Renjun says, but is honestly a bit relieved to hear that. Well, he's pretty sure you wouldn't cheat on him, and he knows that Jaemin has about 200 other options just off the top of his head, but it still feels nice to be reassured. "So, are we good?"

"We are so good," Jaemin announces with a grin, pulling Renjun into another rib-cracking hug. This time, Renjun actually manages to hug him back. He loves Jaemin dearly (platonically), even though he's a real pig at times. Renjun daydreams a bit more about how much he loves his friends before Jaemin detaches himself from Renjun to announce that they should probably head out so he can apologize to the real victim of all of this. Renjun swears he's going to twist Jaemin's nipples until they fall off if he goes out there to meet you without putting a shirt on first. Jaemin laughs, slaps Renjun's back so hard the air gets knocked out of his lungs, then complies and slips into the next best sweater.

Renjun sighs as he realizes the writings on it. Better than nothing, he guesses.

He isn't really surprised as they enter the kitchen to find Donghyuck flexing his very little gain of biceps in front of you and you booing at him with your thumb pointing downwards. Once you notice Jaemin, Renjun notices how you tense up a bit, and he immediately comes rushing to your side to feel you slightly relax with his arm around your shoulder.

"Long time no see-" Donghyuck squints at the lettering on Jaemin's sweater, "orgasm donor."

"Might have not seen you, but I definitely smelled those stinkers you leave in the bathroom for me to find," Jaemin responds. Renjun is a bit surprised to find that this whole situation must have affected Jaemin enough to not even interact with his platonic soulmate in the slightest.

"You make it sound like I don't flush," Donghyuck mumbles, but it goes unnoticed since Jaemin has now turned to you.

"I want to apologize, which I should've done way sooner," Jaemin starts, and the tension in the air is scaring Renjun a bit. "I was young and a total dick, but that's no excuse. I'm sorry."

No one says anything, not even Donghyuck, who has an opinion or at least a thought on everything. It is quiet for a good while, and Renjun fears that you are not ready to forgive Jaemin, which, in all honesty, is fair, given you've lived with the trauma he gave you for years now. Renjun has tried fairly often since he found out what you went through, but he can't imagine how he would've reacted (and lived on) if his first love (who took his v-card) just left without saying anything. (He had to move to fulfill his dream of becoming an idol a year later, sadly, but they're still in touch, on and off. This also makes his encounter with you on the living room floor the other night a bit ironic, but that is besides the point right now.)

Finally, you breathe in. The anxiety in Jaemin's eyes tightens. Everyone is holding their breath.

"I forgive you." You reach out and shake Jaemin's hand. Hell breaks loose in Renjun's chest because, wow, what did he do in his past life to deserve such luck. He is so happy, he smooches your cheek. You giggle, Jaemin smiles and Donghyuck hollers in the background. This little party goes on for a moment before the atmosphere relaxes again. Donghyuck pipes up again to fill the silent moment with an unnecessary comment, "is it just me or does this situation call for a gang bang?"

"Donghyuck, I swear to God, I am going to stuff you head first into Jaemin's nut-napkin-trash can and send a picture of it to your mom," Renjun hisses, but Donghyuck seems unfazed.

"Nothing she hasn't seen before." He shrugs. Renjun decides not to question it.

_____

Renjun's life is so wonderful, he wishes someone would write a story about it. With him by your side, you actually managed to get a job which occupies you half of every other day. Although, you still live with Renjun, which he doesn't mind at all. He loves having you come home to a freshly cooked dinner, to then snuggle on the couch until you either fall asleep or start diddling.

Renjun likes when it's the second option, just like tonight, where he's seated on the floor in front of the couch with your legs draped over his shoulders as he eats you out slowly and softly. Your gentle gasps are music to his ears, the prime time movie playing in the background long forgotten and tuned out as his attention is fully on you.

The slight tugs on his hair make his stomach churn with desire, hands and mouth suddenly too eager to keep his teasing manner up as he moves up to kiss you instead. You giggle into the kiss at his fiery passion, suggesting to take things to the bedroom instead.

Renjun does not need to be told twice as he pulls you against him, making you chuckle even more, and moves you to the bedroom.

Your back hits the mattress with a soft thud as you smile excitedly at Renjun who comes climbing over your body to be at eye level with you again. His hands find your hips, caressing their way upwards while pushing the silky fabric of your shirt up in the process, allowing your braless chest to meet his hungry eyes. The rest of your clothing follows suit, Renjun feeling the flame of lust relight once again as his bare skin touches yours.

"Can we try something tonight?" You suddenly whisper, gaze trained on Renjun's face waiting impatiently for his answer. With his mouth slightly agape, he nods. His eyes jump to where your hand is suddenly touching his, following as you move it upwards to your neck, gently wrapping his smooth fingers around it and applying pressure.

Renjun gulps in awe.

"Press here when you push in," you say, eyelids fluttering as you mimic the action with your fingers against his. Renjun nods carefully, pupils blown probably as wide as yours with lust and desire, heart pounding in his chest as if it was the first time all over again. He will always feel like this around you.

Finding your entrance, Renjun coats his tip with your essence, teasing your awaiting body for another moment or so until his tip catches at your hole. He remembers your words, the grip of his fingers tightening around your throat as he slowly pushes forward, length sinking in slowly.

He's not even all the way in and he can already feel you clench around him, walls hugging him as if they're afraid of letting him go, hole almost fluttering at the feeling of being choked. All that paired with how heavenly you look wrapped up in ecstasy, pretty moans flowing freely only impacted by the way Renjun restricts the flow of air into your lungs and of blood into your brain.

Renjun loves you. He is so deeply in love with you he feels like he could laugh and cry simultaneously, stomach tickling with the all too familiar butterflies every time you look at him. He can't ever get enough of you, he needs you close to him. Never is he going to let you go. He will fight for you, whatever that might mean.

"I'm so in love with you," Renjun can't hold back saying, gently gaze caressing you lovingly. The slow pace he sets makes both of you see stars, length dragging along your walls perfectly to bring you to your shared high.

And it's probably this what makes it sting 100 times more the next morning. You were up early to go to work, kissing Renjun's forehead goodbye as he was still idling sleepily in bed. His mind is still groggy when he peels himself off the sheets and picks up his phone for the first time that day, weak hands struggling to remove the charger. Although, all sleepiness is wiped from his body the second he looks at the screen.

The pretty lock screen picture he has showing you during golden hour is hidden behind a bunch of messages that came in over night. But Renjun is not interested in the four messages he had gotten from Donghyuck ("TW: dickpic", a photo, "can i send it like this or does the slit look off to you??" and "or is it just me?????") or the Instagram reel Jaemin sent to the group chat with the message "me when i was in renjun's gf ha haaa" and Donghyuck responding with "clean".

What makes Renjun's heart drop, beat 20 times its usual speed and then drop again is the following E-Mail notification:

Dear Renjun Huang,

we feel the need to inform you that during our yearly check-ups, we noticed that there has been an incident with your account. Unfortunately, it seems like there has been a mistake made on the company's side regarding your profile.

It seems that someone has hacked into our system, gotten to your private information and pretended to be your Soulmatch™.

We dearly apologize for this mistake. To protect your safety, we have now deleted your account and all private information regarding your person. Please get in touch with us if you want to press charges against the intruder.

Of course, we will pay back the amount you have spent on our Premium Love Package immediately.

Again, our deepest apologies.

Sincerely,

The Soulmatch™ Team

Renjun is not sure how to react to this. Immediately, he checks the app, but he is logged out already. He tries to log in, but his profile is nowhere to be found.

Putting his phone down, he falls onto his back. His mind is racing with thoughts, but they do not seem to make any sense. Someone pretended to be his soulmate? He has never gotten any matches except-

Except you.

Was this... all a hoax? Were you not his soulmate? Have you been lying to him all this time? Why? What does this even mean? How did you do it? And most importantly, what is he going to do now?

Before he knows it, tears start pooling in his eyes, and soon after they drip hotly down his cheeks.

You lied to him.

Have you just used him all this time? Is everything a lie? Do you even love him back? Where did the lies begin? Does he even know who you are? Is this why you've been so secretive about every single detail of your life? Because everything is just made up?

And he just let you. He put up with all of it because he is a pathetic romantic who believes in soulmates. Because he is so desperate to find love. You lied to him with every fibre of your being. And he kissed you. He made love to you. He held you and comforted you. Hell, he even let down his best friend because of you. How could he have been so stupid?

Renjun simply has no words. And he doesn't think he has anything to say to you ever again. He just wants to know why, and how, but he doesn't want to ask you because you're going to lie your way out of it anyway, no?

Shaky legs allow him to get up and walk over into the living room where all your stuff is scattered around.

He is so stupid. He let you live with him. He trusted you without question.

And you used him.

He never wants to see you or any of your stuff ever again, he decides as he kicks against your backpack leaned against the couch, wincing in pain immediately as the contents of the backpack appear to be much more solid than he presumed. His hands grab ahold of his injured foot, causing him to pathetically jump around on one leg until he gives up and falls onto the couch. Wow, he can't even have his dramatic meltdown without being an embarrassing idiot.

The next few hours he spends mostly crying or angrily pacing around. He's thrown all your stuff into a corner and covered it with a blanket so he doesn't need to get reminded of how he's just a pathetic loser every few minutes, although it doesn't help.

He is not sure whether to be upset about the fact that you can't use your phone at work or not, he only knows that by the time 2pm comes around (the time you get off work) he starts to panic.

He is not going to face you. Not now, not like this, preferably not ever. He debates if he should call you, but knowing how easily influenced he is, he'd probably let you lull him in again. No way is he going to face you, nor your voice, nor your texts. All that's left to notify you that Renjun wants you out of his life immediately is a handwritten note to leave while he goes and takes a walk, and hopefully by the time he comes back, you and all your stuff are gone.

Unfortunately, before he can even get a pen and a piece of paper, he hears the keys jiggling as the door is being unlocked. Renjun briefly debates whether jumping out the window would hurt less than this encounter.

"Honey I'm h-" your face comes into view, and Renjun feels his heart beat up his throat. He feels so uncomfortable, so bad, so stupid, so pathetic. "What's wrong?"

Okay, great. It seems to be written all over his face how his morning went.

"Don't you have anything to say to me?" Is all he gets out, cringing at how shaky his voice is, how weak and cracked it sounds after he's dramatically sobbed for a good half of his morning.

"What do you mean?" Your brows contort, and Renjun is glad that he for once does not feel any sexual attraction to you while you're fighting. This was too much.

"Maybe how you lied to me about every single aspect of your life?"

"Huh??"

Renjun wipes his face with one hand. "Didn't know you could hack."

The utter confusion on your face turns into an expression of shock, fear even. "Oh God, oh God."

"That's right, now you remember," Renjun says passive aggressively.

"I think I'm gonna throw up," you say, not meeting Renjun's eyes as you hold your stomach.

"Listen. I'm not going to scream at you. I just want you out. Out of here and out of my life," Renjun says and is surprised at how calm he appears.

"No, no, no, please. I can explain-"

"You can explain all you want, how can I ever believe something you say ever again after all you did was lie? Do you even love me?" Renjun raises his voice against his own better judgement, tears appearing in his eyes once again, but he doesn't let them spill out. He can't give you that kind of satisfaction.

By now, you're kneeling on the floor. The one and a half meters separating you from him feel endless, you're crying restlessly and Renjun doesn't even feel a pinch of empathy for you.

"I do! I love you, please, Renjun, please, you're all I have," you beg.

At this, Renjun feels his heart shatter a little more. Maybe he does have a bit of empathy for you. At the same time, a new wave of anger arises.

"I trusted you. I gave you everything. And you just- you lied. All you did was lie!"

"That's not true! I-" you suddenly crawl over to him and Renjun takes a step back. "I promise. I love you. Maybe the beginning was- fucked up, but everything after that was sincere! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please!"

At this point, the gates of pride can no longer contain Renjun's tears and he breaks down as well, his knees hit the floor in front of you and he begins sobbing. "How could you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," is all you reply, hands reaching out to touch him, and he flinches back, but somehow still lets it happen, lets your arms wrap around him and burry your face in the crook of his neck as you pathetically whimper into the fabric of his shirt.

Renjun follows suit. Of course, he hates you right now, but a very big part of him is in love with you – or rather with the version of you that you made up (???). Not listening to the part of his consciousness screaming at him to stop, he wraps his arms around you as well, crying wholeheartedly against your shaking body.

He has no idea how long you sit there, his legs have gone numb at this point, everything hurts, and then you finally speak up.

"I can explain. It's not good, it's not nice, it's no excuse, but I at least want you to know the truth and not whatever truth you've made up in your head."

Renjun nods. He shouldn't, but he wants you to tell him what really happened.

He also hates that you know him so well.

You somehow find yourselves on the living room floor a few minutes later. Renjun's brought two bottles of water to hydrate after that crying fest out there.

"So, the app," you start, not meeting Renjun's eyes in the slightest. "I used to- work for them."

You take some time to let that sink in. Renjun decides he does not want to respond until the end.

"There was a huge data leakage, and I thought I had it under control, but turns out I didn't, which is why I had to meet you to get you to delete your profile- it's complicated. Or maybe I just made it complicated. But that is why.. you got that weird match. Usually, you can visit that person's profile, but obviously I couldn't have you see it was me because of- our previous encounter, which by the way wasn't planned! It was really just a coincidence!"

Renjun is unsure how this is making him feel.

"Anyway, so I came over. You went to the bathroom and I deleted the app of your phone. Silly me apparently forgot that i had to delete the profile, which is why I came back. I didn't plan for us to hook up again- or whatever. I just needed enough time to delete your profile, which I fucked up. This is already bad enough, but it gets worse."

Renjun does not like where this is going.

"Obviously, I got fired. And you know my situation by now, this was literally all I had. With what I had saved, it lasted me about half a year until I had no money left, I had no idea what to do. I applied for jobs everywhere, but no one was willing to hire me after finding out why I got fired last time. This is where it gets really fucked up. I'm sorry."

Your nervous fiddling makes Renjun believe you, even though he is not sure if he should.

"I- thought that... oh, God, this is so bad."

"Just say it," Renjun says and is not really surprised by how dead inside he sounds.

"Well, I thought that maybe if I like had sex with you again, you'd let me stay with you? I really don't know what the plan was, but... literally you're the only person I knew and... I don't know, I just thought- I guess I didn't think. But then you said you didn't want to have sex anymore, but wanted me to stay anyway- so I... used you... I mean, I still... liked you? Obviously, or else I wouldn't've slept with you.. twice! I mean- God, I'm such a horrible person.."

Renjun doesn't have to say anything to that.

"Well, and then things went so great – except for the Jaemin thing – and for the first time ever, I felt loved? Because I was? Literally, half the time I wished I would've stayed the time we first hooked up so we could have a normal relationship that isn't based on me trying to save my ass and using you... But everything was so beautiful. You made me feel safe, and I pretty much forgot about the app. I really just enjoyed being with you. I enjoyed falling in love with you. Even meeting your parents and friends, how you sorted out the Jaemin thing for me..."

Renjun believes you are genuine.

"That's it... I think.. I just- I'm sorry... I shouldn't have lied to you.. I should've just been honest from the beginning and said I made a mistake or whatever but- I don't know, I didn't. I guess I was scared? I don't know.. But please, I need you to believe me when I say everything after that was real. I love you. I like you, everything about you, and not only because you're kind and offered me a home... basically, no. I like you for you. I love you. Even if you-" you choke up briefly "decide that you don't want to be with me anymore, I just need you to believe me when I say... that I truly love you. I never lied about that, ever. Not once. And I wouldn't in a million years."

"Is that all?" Renjun asks after a minute. You, looking at him for the first time, nod. Before his heart can start beating again, before the butterflies can come back, he needs to remind himself that you used him. You used him and you lied.

"I mean, this is a lot," Renjun starts. You suddenly seem to be unable to look at him anymore. "I feel- actually I don't really know how I feel, but thank you for.. being honest, I hope?"

"I promise."

"I'm going to be honest, I feel... betrayed?"

"Rightfully so."

"I need some time to think about it... Is it.. okay.." Renjun rethinks his decision of asking you beforehand, "I'm going to need to take a walk.. clear my head, make up my mind. I'm not going to ask you to stay, but I'm also not asking you to leave. Do what you will..."

"I understand," you nod, and Renjun gets up. "Wait-"

Renjun halts and turns around to look at you getting up from your place on the carpet. "This might be.. wrong? Toxic? But... can I... if this is the last time I can... if you decide to.. not be with me... can I kiss you one last time?"

Renjun feels his throat close up at your words. Either you're a really, really good liar or you're being honest about your feelings. His breath hitches, his heart performs summersaults in his chest, and his voice trembles, "you can."

Carefully you lean in, slowly pressing your lips against his. There is not much going on, your hands gently hover on his shoulders, barely touching him at all, and your lips just stay still against his. Still, Renjun feels like a thousand silent words and a million hidden emotions clear up as his eyes close to feel you against him. His breath is shaky, he feels himself getting hot as more tears well up behind his closed lids. He really doesn't want to let you go.

As you part from him, his lips chase you for a split second before he realizes what he's doing. "I should get going."

"Be safe." You nod again and Renjun hears the threatening tears in your voice. God, how badly he wants to believe you.

'I love you, I love you!', his heart screams at him to scream at you, but he doesn't. Instead, he steps out of the room, grabs his keys, slips into his shoes and jacket, and heads out without looking back.

The cold air hits his face. Yet, unlike in the movies, he still doesn't feel any clearer. He still feels used and betrayed, he still feels like shit, but he knows he loves you. But is that enough of a reason to forgive you?

He tries to be logical, debate his options, but he can't focus. All that swirls around his brain is how your lips felt on his, and he wonders if kissing you was a mistake. This stupid, romantic mind of his...

Inevitably, after walking around the neighborhood for a good hour, thinking of nothing and everything, he decides that maybe he still isn't in the right mind to make a decision on his own. But who is he going to ask? Fucknut #1 and Serial-Fucker #2? Definitely not.

Therefore, he is glad his mother answers the phone after the second ring. Immediately, she knows something is up, and Renjun repeats the things you have told him (with less sexual details, as to be expected) to his mother who listens patiently.

Except for a "that's where I know her from!" and a short explanation how she saw a picture of you amongst your colleagues when she read that article about the love app, she just listens. Maybe he should've asked her about it back then, about the article. Maybe none of this would have happened. But then, he wouldn't have you in his life.

When he is done and asks for advice, she appears calm.

"Oh, Junnie. Love can be a funny thing. See, when I met your father, it wasn't easy either. Both of our families were against us, our lives were so different from each other, and still, there was so much connecting us that it had to be fate. I know it's hard to trust after something like this, I can only imagine what you're feeling right now, but you're a smart kid, you'll know what's right."

"But what would you do? What do you think?" Renjun asks.

His mother sighs and chuckles slightly. "Maybe I'm just a hopeless romantic like you are, but... people make mistakes, Junnie. The universe brought you together so many times, I think it's fate. I don't know if you should forgive her, but I know I would."

"You would? You don't think I'm crazy? You don't think I'm letting her walk all over me?"

"Not that this should matter, but you haven't been completely honest with her either if I remember correctly?" His mom reminds him, and Renjun suddenly feels a bit lighter.

"The psychic," he mumbles.

"That's right. She told you you were going to be alone forever if you didn't meet someone by the end of this year, and that's the reason you signed up for that app in the first place. And a part of me believes that that's the reason why you even let her stay with you, why you were so willing to ignore all signs that something was up. Maybe you already knew?" His mother suggests and Renjun doesn't like it one bit how similar they are. Or maybe he does.

"How do you know me so well?" He whines, feeling a bit more confident about letting that kiss linger in his mind for so long.

"I raised you!" She chuckles and Renjun can feel himself smile. He thanks her again before ending the call before turning on his heels to head back home. God, he only hopes you're still there.

______

When Renjun unlocks the door to the apartment, his hands are shaking. It took him a good three attempts to finally get the key into the lock. Admittedly, he is nervous because, well, for obvious reasons, but he also isn't sure if you're still there. Your past of skidaddling when things get serious gives him every right to feel anxious as he listens for any signs of you still being around as he takes of his shoes.

He doesn't dare call out for you, instead he begins searching the place. He's not sure what's going to happen when he finds you since, well, it hasn't been nice of him to just leave you behind, but what was he going to do?!

His search is pointless, he realizes as he steps out of the last room, the bathroom, and you're not there. Honestly, he wasn't really confident that you'd still be there, but he had hope. What raises his eyebrow is that your stuff is still there, no longer cramped into the corner he threw them in a few hours ago, but neatly sorted and packed in case this was really the final day of your stay. But, point is: it's still there. Now why in the world would you head off and go your own way and leave all that behind.

It's then when the door is unlocked once again, your figure slipping in, red and puffy eyes meeting the puzzled Renjun standing in the hallway.

"Y-you're back," you deduct correctly, taking off your shoes and stepping inside.

"Sure am." Renjun isn't sure why he still sounds so pissed when he is here to forgive you. On a second thought, maybe he's too quick with it? Should he really listen to his mom and just- forgive you? Just like that? Oh, he already knows Donghyuck is going to put out a whole speech about how Renjun is "high on pussy" and "not thinking straight". But... he wants to. He wants to forgive you. He wanted to from the very first moment he saw that weird E-Mail. He just couldn't. And now he can... can he?

"I just went out to get your favorite snack from the little store down the street.. I thought it might... make you feel better," you finally reveal why you left the apartment and Renjun's heart jumps. "I dunno, I just- wanted to do something nice regardless of your decision." You nod to yourself.

Renjun just looks at you as you are unable to meet his eyes.

"They didn't have it, so I went to the other store, the one by the subway station, and they actually were out of stock, but I begged the guy to go check if they had some left somewhere," you inform him, shyly looking up at him, "my current state must've convinced him it was urgent." You smile weakly and motion to your face.

Renjun can't keep his strong demeanor up any longer. Two big steps (wow, he has to inform his doctor that his legs must've grown a few centimeters) and he's right in front of you, cupping your cheeks. "I love you," he simply says, your face so confused that you can only stutter a few syllables before Renjun crashes his lips to yours.

And, God, does it feel good. Honestly, he has so much more time to actually think about what you did, and what it means in the future, but he needs you here with him, right now, always and forever. Sure, it's going to take a bit for him to built his trust again, but for now, he doesn't actually care.

"I love you too," you manage to breathe out when Renjun parts from you.

"I realized a few things. And I may have been a bit dramatic? But, well, I also have a confession to make."

_____

Renjun pushed the admittedly tacky (and stereotypical? Renjun did get slight cultural appropriation vibes) curtain aside to slip into the dimly lit room, although once he entered, the aura of the room changed his mind completely. It's not that he had a sense for spirituality, but he has always been deeply interested in the matter, which made him glad his mother suggested to try it out once.

So this was it, Renjun's first Tarot card reading.

The lady had been super nice, Renjun could tell by one single glance she was competent and very able to perform this life changing reading for him.

"What question brings you here today?" She asked, shuffling her deck of cards which Renjun could not take his eyes off.

"Ask about your love life!" His mom urged beside him, giggling like the sunshine she is, and Renjun chuckled quickly before averting his eyes to look at the lady in front of them.

"Just- my future? If there is anything important I should know?" He decided since that would not exclude his mom's interests.

"Very well," the lady nodded and began shuffling the cards quicker, her hands rushing until one card fell out.

"Ah, The Fool," she explained, and Renjun frowned. His mother couldn't contain a chuckle. "Do not worry, dear. This is no description of your self. Instead The Fool can symbolize new beginnings. There is most likely change waiting for you."

Renjun felt his heart beat up his throat in a positive way, making him giddy to find out more. The lady shuffled her cards some more until two cards fell out at the same time.

"Here we have The Ace of Cups, upright, and The Lovers. There appears to be a new relationship waiting for you, a romantic one."

Renjun gently elbowed his mom next to him who seemed as erratic as he was right now.

"Oh dear, The High Priestess in reverse... this new relationship might be full of secrets, which can be good or bad, exciting or dangerous," The lady deducted, and Renjun gulped.

As she started shuffling again, three cards sprang out of the deck immediately, making even Renjun feel the urgency.

"Two of Wands, The Hermit, The Ace Of Pentacles," the lady read out, sounding worried.

"Why? What does it mean?" Renjun asked, worry also evident in his tone.

"Two of Wands might represent the urgency of this. You have to take action soon, or else – here comes The Hermit – you may find loneliness. The Ace of Pentacles shows us the time frame: one year. I get the strong feeling these cards are telling you to hurry finding that love, or you might be alone forever."

_____

"So basically that's why you've been this patient with me?"

"Basically," Renjun responds, feeling a bit bad about it, "I feel like I should've told you sooner?"

"Jun, don't worry. You're not the one who messed up here. If anything, this makes me feel a tiny bit better about how manipulative I've been..." You admit, frowning.

"Well, I'm not the only one calling the shots here," Renjun summarizes, "so I'm asking you: Do you still want to be my girlfriend?"

"Are you joking? I feel like you are," you say, a wide grin spreading over your face.

"Nope, I'm super serious," Renjun chuckles and pokes your shoulder for reasons he is not aware of.

"Wow, and here I was contemplating to offer you anal to make up for it," you joke (?).

Renjun blinks at you, his smile falling into a crooked smirk at the proposal of your kind offering. "I mean... is the offer still on the table?"

"You are such a man," you pinch him, but do not reject the idea.

"What if we did it right now? Right here?" Renjun suddenly grabs your waist, pulling you closer to his body and starts kissing your neck. His tone (hopefully) brings across that he's joking, that you obviously won't do it right now, but not never either, if you're still up for it.

"You'd be the first," you chuckle before kissing Renjun's nose.

"Stop making me hard," he mumbles before attacking you with more kisses. "I know it's only been like a few hours, but I missed you so much. Let's not fight ever again, yeah?"

"I agree," you say and Renjun pulls back to look at you. Maybe this is silly, maybe he forgives too easily, but it just feels right. The look in your eyes is so genuine, as was the offer of doing butt stuff, that Renjun is just pretty much sure that this was this one big thing every relationship has and now it will only get better.

"Or is there anything else you need to tell me," Renjun teases.

"Not a thing, you now know everything there is to know about me, which, admittedly, isn't that much.. do you have a confession to make?"

Renjun thinks for a second. "Well, just this one thing. Remember when we went to Jaemin's to talk things out? He was practically naked when I went in there and I may have stared a bit until I remembered that he is disgusting."

"Oh, word. His chest is super-"

"Hey." Renjun furrows his brows half playfully joking, half dead serious. "I get to say that. You don't."

You mimic zipping your mouth shut, locking it and throwing the key away. Renjun laughs and takes your hand in his to hold. "So, all this talk about anal and Jaemin... why don't we take this to the bedroom?"

"You really won't let this go, huh?" You smirk. "I'd say: what comes around goes around. Whatever you do to my butt, I'll do to yours."

"I believe I have never loved you more than right now," Renjun sighs before kissing you once again, on the mouth this time, and he feels like time stands still and rushes past double it's normal speed. His hands wander over your body, taking everything in, feeling you against him because you are his, once again, finally. Your hands are as excited touching him, and it dawns on Renjun that you're probably not going to make it to the bedroom, which is fine since he owns this entire place anyway (it's a rental, but you get the point).

Both of your clothes are off in no time, leaving Renjun's hands to freely roam over your naked skin, and it feels just as exhilarating as if you'd never had that fight. That stupid, stupid fight, right now, Renjun can't even remember what it was about, but that could partly be because of the lack of blood in his brain. His heavy erection is currently pressed heavenly against your lower stomach as you make out wildly, and Renjun can't even think about the usual foreplay he finds so important as you start rubbing your wetness all over him. He just wants to be in you, be connected to you, feel all of you against and around him, have the both of you desperately grinding and panting against each other.

Although, he feels kind of more dominant today, maybe there is still a very slight aftertaste of your betrayal lingering and he feels the need to show you that he can be in control over you if he wants to, or maybe he just feels extra manly and prideful today after you did everything to prove to him that you want him in your life. He decides that being on top would be enough to satisfy that need, so he gently pushes you back and lays you down on your back.

His tip brushes over your clit and you whine, a sound that is music to Renjun's ears, and when you speak up and practically beg him to just "put it in", who is he to deny you that wish?

Aligning himself with your hole, he gently pushes forward, allowing his tip to disappear between your velvety walls, and he loves how your eyes roll back and you gasp at how good he feels.

"Only the tip and you're already drooling," he observes, biting his lower lip smugly before pulling back out and repeating the action of fucking just the tip into you several times before giving in to your quiet pleas and pushes all the way in.

You choke on your moan at this, eyes glazed over with lust finding Renjun's under eyebrows furrowed by pleasure. Renjun can already feel you pulsating around him and God does that stroke his ego.

Although he decides he could be having more of an effect on you right now, so he places your legs on his shoulders instead of around his waist, and practically folds you in half to open you up for him so he can fill you deeper, so deeply his tip grazes at your cervix. To intensify your pleasure, his fingers come up to rub at your wet clit, three fingers massaging the nub in quick circles, the wetness allowing him to glide over the surface perfectly.

And your body seems to agree. In no time – Renjun's sure he must've set a new record – you announce that you're ready, seconds away from reaching your high, and Renjun thinks twice about letting you taste it. Well, you did kind of fuck up, but fuck it. Renjun loves the look on your face when you cum just too much to deny you it, instead spurring you on by telling you just how good you are for him, what a perfect girl you are and how much he loves having you cum on his cock.

Seconds later, you orgasm, clamping walls choking his dick in the best way possible, the look on your face and the moans sounding from your throat so pretty that Renjun feels like he's fallen in love all over again. When you come down, he praises you and kisses you, never missing an opportunity to tell you just how perfect you are.

"More," you whisper to him, eyelids heavy as your blurred view tries to find Renjun's eyes, and he briefly chuckles before granting your wish.

"Greedy are we?" He sets a faster pace this time, balls slapping against your ass where your wetness had already dripped down and probably seeped into the couch. Renjun feels so good, so happy, so fulfilled, and he is once again reminded why it was the right decision to forgive you. He is such a man, he thinks, and is reminded of a few minutes ago when you said that to him.

"Can you turn around for me, baby?" He asks, suddenly in the mood to watch your ass as he repeatedly disappears into you, and you comply, allowing him to pull out before getting on your hands and knees. Renjun grins seeing your beautiful ass in front of him, he gently slaps it two times before gently pressing on your back to get you to lie down for him again, though this time on your stomach. He enters you again, filling you up perfectly once again, like you were made for each other, and he puts his entire weight on you to be able to still whisper in your ear.

His fingers find your hair, not to pull, just to be there so you feel it, and as he rams himself inside repeatedly, he mumbles the dirtiest things to you, about how well you're taking him, how beautiful you look underneath him and how much he just loves to fuck you. And yes, he even goes into detail (damnit Donghyuck) about how perfectly tight you are for him. A hand sneaks between your body and the couch, fingers quickly finding your clit again and you whine.

"'s so good," you say, voice trembling, "love you s'much."

"I love you too, baby," Renjun responds, grinning ear to ear like a maniac because he just loves this effect he has on you. This might just be a fantasy, but he's sure he's the only one who could ever make you feel this good. And admittedly, even right now when you're not doing much except take it, you make him feel just as good.

"Fuck, I think I'm gonna cum," he grunts, and you whine, cunt clenching around him at the mere prospect of him reaching his high.

"Me too, God," you manage to bring out.

"Where do you want it?" Renjun asks. Although he already knows your answer, he loves hearing you say it.

"I-inside, please," you mewl, arching your back a bit more to give him perfect access, "cu- cumming, cumming, cumming."

And just as you orgasm around him, walls wrapping around Renjun's cock impossibly tight, he follows suit, pressing his hips against your ass to fill you as deeply as possible. He pushes in a few more times to really get it all in there, have all his cum so deep inside you'll still feel it the next day.

"God, fuck, I love you so much," he pants, now a little exhausted as the adrenaline washes off. He pulls out, allowing you to turn around on your back and smile at him. God, he loves seeing you fucked out like this.

"I love you," you reply, then your nose scrunches and Renjun remembers that, when you shoot cum inside someone, it's going to inevitably drip back out, and he doesn't have to ruin his couch any more than he already did.

______

Renjun's arm is draped over your body, cuddling and talking in bed after the intense 4 rounds you just had, and maybe Renjun should've seen it coming, but honestly? How could he? So he jumps as he hears the doorbell ring.

"Who the fuck..." he mumbles as he gets up, puts on some underwear (at least) and stumbles to the door.

"Tell them to come back tomorrow, I'm not done with you," you giggle behind him as you slip into one of Renjun's shirts and a pair of panties you find laying on the floor. Renjun grins and throws you a wink before turning on the speaker.

"Hello?"

"Congratulations!"

"What the fuck are you asshats doing here?" Renjun groans and hides his face in his unoccupied hand. You have stepped over and are now pressing your ear against the speaker to be able to listen as well.

"We heard the news and came to celebrate?" Jaemin says.

"Actually, we didn't know how it went so we brought booze either for celebrating or for condolences. We took a wild guess," Donghyuck adds.

"How do you even-"

"Your mom told me."

"I don't think I appreciate you being involved with my mom..."

"Your words, not mine. Now open up."

"We're not exactly... dressed appropriately," Renjun informs and he can hear Jaemin howl and Donghyuck laugh.

"Let us in, we'll give you 2 minutes," Jaemin says.

"As if I'm going to believe you'd be passing an opportunity to barge in and see my girlfriend in her undies," Renjun says.

"Open up!" Donghyuck pushes.

"We just fucked four times!" You chime in, and Renjun isn't sure why you needed to clarify what didn't need to be clarified. Especially since, except for a few cheers that die down quickly, it's silent for a good 20 seconds until Donghyuck informs you that the old lady living two floors below just came home and most definitely heard that.

"Just let us in," Jaemin shouts right into the speaker and Renjun has to hold it away from his ear to not go deaf.

"Are you okay with this? I'm sure I could make them leave... somehow..."

"Sure! I could take two more," you joke and Renjun squints at you, making you teasingly roll your eyes. "Kidding."

"Okay, give us a few," Renjun says and just hangs up before they can complain. You both run into the bedroom and get changed into relatively acceptable clothing and Renjun has the decency to at least open a window to make the strong smell of sex lighten a bit before he checks in with you again, then opens the door.

Donghyuck and Jaemin's hollers can be heard echoing through the hallways until they finally show up at Renjun's door step.

"Nice work, man," Jaemin compliments as he sees the state of your still slightly tousled hair, and pats Renjun's back. They take off their shoes and let themselves in. While Jaemin stores the alcohol they brought in the fridge, Donghyuck skips into the living room to occupy Renjun's phone charger.

Oh, no. The living room.

Renjun darts after him, holding onto the door frame to not fall from the immense speed of his sprint, but it's too late. Donghyuck is already grinning at the used tissues scattered around the place and Renjun's underwear dangling from the uplight.

"You really are just high on pussy, it seems," Donghyuck teases, clearly hinting at how Renjun forgave you too (?) quickly. "You're not thinking straight. Or too straight..."

"You don't even know the whole story," Renjun defends himself while crossing his arms.

"Don't worry man, I'm not judging. I feel like this is the right thing for you," Donghyuck says and Renjun is surprised at his choice of words... such a... lack of disgusting-ness? Donghyuck even trots over and places a brotherly hand on Renjun's shoulder and gives him a smile.

"Thank you," Renjun says and means it. Donghyuck takes a few steps back, bows, then his eyes lock in on something on the floor.

"I think I'm taking these with me," Donghyuck announces before bending down further and holding up your panties with his forefinger.

"Don't you dare-" Renjun warns, but Donghyuck already started pushing the fabric into his pocket.

"Take it out," you say, suddenly appearing behind Renjun. Donghyuck seems taken aback, especially as you step over and grab his hair. "Give. Them. Back."

You pull hard, only once, and Donghyuck moans, but complies, and Renjun is party impressed and partly enraged.

"Starting without me?" Jaemin grins as he, too, has appeared in the room by now.

"Guys, I think we need some boundaries regarding my girlfriend," Renjun hisses through grit teeth. You agree, finally letting go of Donghyuck's hair who falls to his knees. Jaemin shrugs and sits down on the couch just as Renjun stuffs the used tissues into his pocket.

"What do you say?" You address Donghyuck who whines out a pathetic apology. You grin. "Sorry, this is kind of fun," you whisper to Renjun.

"I mean if you want to, you could talk like that to me every once in a while-" Renjun mumbles back, immediately feeling you cling to his side.

"Yeah?" You bite your lip.

"There was some talk about boundaries?" Jaemin recalls and you back off a bit. "When I can't have it, at least don't rub it in my face- unless you're going to literally rub it in my face-"

"I swear to God-"

© 2023 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

[gotham-daydreams]

Warning long ask ahead I apologize in advance

Hi there :), I'm here to drops some angst

So you said that friend!reader does some shady buisness, and I imagine it takes a while for the whole turn yandere for reader takes a while to happen

So what if the batfam threatening them and interfering in their life so they leave the idol alone is what eventually pushes them that way?(They did it as the Wayne family, in this scenario reader doesn't know the identities)

As you said, they are the richest family in Gotham and can easily get you fired from your job, or expelled if you're in college

And let's say Barbara is the first to starting turn

Maybe it's when she just happens to be investigating some crime trough cameras and she come across reader, shes likely annoyed but decide to investigate anyway, she is still vigilantes after all

And that eventually leads her to finding out the reasons why reader doing it, because they need it to afford groceries, and they can't get a normal job because of her and the family

it wouldn't be immediately yandere but I feel like the shock of it would be a good Kickstarter

And to make it worse? The reader is not out for revenge, they are not plotting to kill someone or trying to ruin Wayne industries, they are just trying to afford food

She can deal with someone hating them and wanting to hurt them, but instead the reader pretends that they don't know them, either the Wayne's , or her own family

And that really digs deep , not just because of the batfam but because she knows that if reader were to ask Gordon for help, he would do so in a heartbeat

But reader won't, because they're afraid, afraid of the batfam hurting them, afraid of *her*

That stews in her head for a while, she remembered back when she still worked with her father, on how she wanted to help the criminals in Gotham, because a lot of them where people in bad situations pushed into this life by someone with more power, people like two face, penguin, black mask ,... And now her

Her younger self would be absolutely be disgusted by her right now

So Barbara steels herself and decides to help reader, she knows she can't go on person, reader would be rightfully too angry or too scared to listen to anything she had to say,

There nothing she could do as Barbara Gordon, but reader would be willing to listen to a text send to them by oracle

-----------------------------------

so yeah the idea is, Barbara starts talking to reader as oracle to keep them safe, and that eventually that turns into obsession, I had no real reason to focus on her, I just wanted to have someone different than the obvious Jason or Bruce

Also not gonna lie, the reason I mention Gordon in this is because I had the less angsty idea of Gordon helping the reader out of the bad situations like the batfam pins a crime on a reader and he's like "oh hold on you guys got this wrong"(he doesn't know it was intentional) and proves the reader innocent, so reader starts clinging to him and when the batfam eventually turn yandere their like >:0

Because the reader prefers the grizzled old detective instead of super cool vigilante group (warning the batfam might be biased)

YESSS!!!! I definitely see it! And honestly, the reason the reader does shady stuff in the first place is exactly as you said pretty much- they have no choice. They're living on their own, as their own sole provider, and have nobody to help them but themselves - and what's the quickest way to make money in Gotham? Especially semi-good money? Crime.

Not that the reader kills anyone or anything like that, they just do what they have to, but they still hold morals and such.

I will also say that how the Batfam becomes obsessed is through them just... not knowing much about the reader the more they think about it. Like, sure the reader would answer their questions they'd dismissively ask just for the sake of it and to keep appearances, but the reader wouldn't really give anything of substance.

Do they work? Yeah! Where do they work? Just as some shop What do they live? Somewhere in downtown Gotham/With a friend! What are they studying? You think they study?

And so on and so forth. Things to move the conversation along, but also not really give anything, y'know?

So it's through learning more about the reader (and outside of what they deem necessary to learn so that they have more leverage and such over them) and such, is a big part of their 'transition'/switch from the idol to the reader themself.

It sucks too because the reader wants to do something else, and is actively working towards being able to work a 'clean' job, but of course, since this is Gotham and they aren't rich by any means - it's hard to do that. It's hard to put themselves in a better position by themselves, especially considering their position.

They are terrified of the Batfam when they go out to do their shady stuff, just knowing that the vigilantes are lurking is enough of a fright, but the thought of facing them and the aftermath... that fills them with dread too, because they can't afford to get caught. They can't afford to get their lights knocked out, and be sent to prison. They're just trying to make their life better, and want to do it themself. To prove to themself that they can do this... and also not seem a certain way to their more well-off friends.

It's a struggle, and the Batfam, even before they begin to act malicious and everything - added to that by just doing their jobs and such at night. So with what goes down and everything... yeah, it doesn't help.

If anything, that first message from Oracle definitely freaks them the fuck out. It 100% takes them way too long to even open the message, expecting some kind of threat or something along those lines. A threat, or a promise against them - and so on and so forth. So you can imagine how they react when they finally see the message and it's actual contents.

Regardless, I love your input and seeing your thoughts!! It was an awesome read, I really enjoyed it :]

[thepeaklegendoffirstgen]

I'm not sure if I missed the chapter but is Gitae from a relationship Gap had before Minseon? I thought he was from one of the women Gap was with even after he married Minseon. I was thinking the sibling from the relationship before Minseon would be older than Gitae.

Also on another though unlikely to happen what if they had a younger sibling like I mean the sibling is like only 6 or something, like the sibling was from a relationship Gap had before the day Gitae attacked him.

This is what Jake’s mom told him in Ch 395. So, based on that, Gap had Kitae even while he was with Minseon—using her inability to get pregnant as an excuse to sleep around. Absolutely vile. You're right: Kitae is byproduct Kim. He was born to one of the many women Gap was involved with, even after marrying Minseon.

This all happened during that 7 year period. First came Kitae, followed by the rest of the brothers, and finally, Jake. Even after Jake was born, Gap didn’t stop his disgusting behaviour. He kept justifying it by saying, “A real man loves all his ladies.” No. A real man loves his woman wholeheartedly. Gap—you’ll never be a real man in my eyes🖕🖕

Now, coming to your question, let’s break it into two parts:

1. If the sibling is older than Kitae:

Pretty much everything I mentioned in the previous post still applies, except the protection and nurturing dynamics will shift.

If it’s a big brother:

Kitae will likely look up to him. But if that brother likes Gap, then... 🪓🪓

On the other hand, if the brother dislikes Gap for the same reasons Kitae does, then wow ! what a duo they’d make. Kitae would constantly seek his approval:

“See what I did?”

“Did I do good?”

A lot of the emotional void Gap left in Kitae could be filled by such a brother. But it comes with a catch: if this big brother ever fails or shows weakness, it could shatter Kitae’s sense of self.

If it’s a big sister:

That’s a tricky road. At first, he might not pay much attention to her. But if she’s strong—physically, mentally, emotionally, it could catch his eye.

A true big sister who asserts her authority might make him feel a sense of companionship. Still, the wound of an absent father lingers, so he’ll likely project a lot of pressure onto her to be “strong.”

And I don’t mean Gojo Satoru level of “I’m the strongest.” No, strength here could mean intelligence, clarity, and conviction. She’d need to earn his respect, even if she’s older.

For Jake, it boils down to one thing: Are you a good person?

You can hate Gap or love him, but if you're not a fundamentally good person, Jake will see you as a threat.

2. If the sibling is younger than Jake (very unlikely, but for you anon, I’ll paint the picture):

Kitae:

If he discovers Gap had a child after Jake, he will go searching for them. And if the child is still very young, an impressionable age—he’ll approach them gently. He’d likely kneel and ask,

“So, young man/little lady, what do you think of Gap?”

If the child says something positive about Gap, Kitae won’t lash out at them. Instead, he’ll be furious at whoever taught the child to idolize Gap. That person? 🪓🪓

Kitae would take the child under his wing.

“You shouldn’t think that man was kind. Let me show you how life really works. I’ll help you grow stronger, wiser.”

This younger sibling wouldn’t be harmed—they’d be shaped. He’d see an opportunity to mold them into someone who understands the truth. There's space in his heart for that.

Jake:

If the younger sibling is living a stable life, he won’t interfere much.

But if they’re struggling, abandoned, or hurt? Jake will step up immediately.

He’ll take them in, raise them, and protect them from everything, including Kitae. He’ll never let even Kitae’s shadow near them.

Jake will take full responsibility and love them with all he has.

Hope, I make sense! Lots of ramblings but if you still have questions ask em🌸✨️

[fantasyinvader]

It’s just all clicking into place.

The Kingdom’s culture promotes the idea of living without regrets. As @randomnameless pointed out, in the Japanese script the way of it’s renowned knights is to follow your heart and the justice that you believe in, and Annette will point out in Wind how there’s a belief there that people who die with regrets will suffer underground from them.

Now think about Dimitri. Dimitri knew the people of Duscur were innocent, that what the Kingdom was doing to them sure as fuck wasn’t justice. Even the Church’s teaching about it being okay to kill with reason wouldn’t work here because Dimitri knew there was no real reason to go after Duscur. But Dimitri lacked evidence. He was sent by Rufus to help put down a rebellion while fighting a general involved in the Tragedy. But at the same time, Dimitri did something he viewed as wrong by killing others even if it was punishing bad guys. This is where something in Dimitri broke and he scared Felix into pissing himself. Dimitri came to Garreg Mach in order to investigate the truth and bring the real perpetrators to justice and clear the people of Duscur’s name. But Dimitri is still suicidal in part because of this past and his actions, believing himself a monster because of them. His character growth in Moon is him learning to not live for the dead but for himself, doing what he believes is right. He attempts to talk to Edelgard about the war to solve things peacefully, and on top of that realizes that he actually wants the duties and responsibilities of a king in order to help people.

And it’s not just Dimitri in the BL house. Felix and Ingrid have different endings in AM than the rest of the game. We know Felix in Flower views himself as a monster over his father’s death and will mourn Dimitri while wondering if he could have saved him, and Ingrid doesn’t follow her dreams of being a knight and instead manages her family’s territory and it’s noted in her ending with Ashe she isn’t received warmly by the people she left, spending her life working for their sake. Felix loses his sword-arm in their paired ending in Moon saving her, and is said to not regret it.

Dedue returns to Duscur without the sadness caused by Dimitri’s death in SS and VW.

Sylvain regretted what lacking a Crest did to Miklan, so he worked towards making it so that Crests and Relics weren’t seen as necessary. In addition, he improves relations with Sreng, which makes sense in light of Hopes revealing they killed Miklan’s mother.

Annette can only bring her father home in Azure Moon.

Mercedes gets an extra scene during Emile’s death only in Azure Moon, making it so he doesn’t die as the Death Knight with his helmet removed. Kinda like Darth Vader dying as Anakin Skywalker at the end of Jedi.

Ashe quits working for House Rowe when they become a vassal to the Empire according to his bio, so he isn’t recruited as a turncoat. (randomnamless: His ending with Caspar confirms they hold the same views on justice, and Ashe is trying to live up to his ideal as a kingdom knight. Just more proof that Caspar is what the kingdom knights idolize). In his AM ending with Ingrid, they both go down in history as peerless knights serving Dimitri.

Rhea won’t die under any circumstance in Moon, so Catherine and Cyril are able to save her.

(Also this tidbit about Catherine’s solo ending if Rhea dies really shows that she isn’t the monster people accuse her of being “Catherine left the Knights of Seiros and set out to travel across Fódlan. With Thunderbrand in hand, she wandered the countryside, seeking always to defend the innocent and punish the wicked. Her many years of heroics ensured that she would always be remembered by the people as a beloved folk hero.”)

AG wanting to look at the Knight culture of the Kingdom also makes sense of the ending. Dimitri was a hero until the defeat of Thales, as evidenced by the light symbolism (or rather, Shez’s influence not bringing about a dark dawn). But his dawn of darkness is coming, he’s going to wage a punitive campaign against the Empire over the war, believing that it’s justice even though they were manipulated. And when you consider what happened to Duscur when they were accused of killing Lambert and now the people knowing that forces within the Empire were involved? And Rhea isn’t going to be around to broker a peace if Claude manages to assassinate her. Despite being the One-Eyed Demon post-timeskip in Houses (Bar Flower), Dimitri was still seen as a folk hero for his actions against the Empire. Dimitri is always a heroic figure of sorts within Houses, but in the ending of Gleam he lives long enough to see himself become the villain because Dimitri is going to end up doing what he believes is right.

In a sick way, he becomes like Edelgard in this regard just like how GW sees Claude become like Edelgard as well.