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starcandybby · 16 days ago

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love is you - a sim jaeyun fic

summary: Jake knew your father didn’t like him and detested the idea of you, the preacher’s daughter, being associated with such a man. For years, Jake adhered to your father’s rules and boundaries, never questioning them. It was all for this moment- Jake was going to ask for your father’s blessing. Jake is ready to take this next step with you, but is your father willing to accept such a man?

jake x fem!reader | angst, comfort | wc: 4.9k

warnings: religious themes, mentions of Christianity, mentions of the bible and verses, y/n’s father gets angry a few times, anger and tension in y/n’s home, jake has a mental breakdown(s). RELIGIOUS CHRISTIANITY THEMESSS, descriptions of daddy issues, takes place in the south, reader uses she/her pronouns

a/n: This is honestly a pretty personal work,, i have kind of complicated relationship with Christianity as a religion. I’m really sorry if this offends anyone, but I don’t think there’s really a dig at the beliefs, just the patriarchal father (YOU KNOW??!!) anyway, please let me know if i missed any warnings ^^

Jake slowly walks up the unfamiliar porch stairs. If he looks closely enough, he’ll find cracks in the brick and unevenness that adds to his already unsteady figure. The short set of stairs lead to a wrap-around porch adorned with white wooden railing. Again, if Jake looks closely, he’ll find chips and breaks in the white paint, exposing old wood. The front door is no different- slightly faded white paint with cracks around the edges.

Of course, it wouldn’t be your house if there wasn’t a cross hanging on your front door, right at Jake’s eye level, a sign of a preacher’s home.

The southern sun shows no mercy as it shines down- despite Jake being covered by the porch roof, he can still feel its effects. He’s not sure if the sweat trailing down his back and face are from the relentless heat or from his task at hand. Or, perhaps, it’s from his long-sleeve dress shirt and pants that he’s adorned in the peak of summer.

Jake glances down at his hands, littered with bandages matching his honey-toned skin, wrapping around his knuckles and up his wrists that are mostly covered by his shirt. Not an inch of ink is showing. Lip piercing and ear piercings are taken out as well. Jake couldn’t recognize himself when he left home this morning.

His left hand, clammy, tightens its grip on a bouquet of flowers while the right one raises to knock on your front door.

It’s now or never, he guesses.

His fist hits the wooden door three times. The sound echoes in his mind and it becomes all too real.

Jake feels like he’s going to vomit. One more second and he’s turning on his heels, forgetting why he’s here.

But, right before he turns to go, the front door swings open.

There stands your mother as surprise catches her expression, but is quickly replaced by a trained pleasant smile.

“Jayeun,” she begins, unsure, “How can I help you?”

“Hi, ma’am,” Jake says, using most of his strength and focus on keeping his voice steady, attempting to hide any nervousness.

“Is Mr. L/N home? I’d like to meet with him.”

Your mother offers Jake a soft smile at this. She knows. Jake hopes her smile is meant for encouragement and not pity.

“He’s in his office. Let me see if he can see you. You can wait in our living room in the meantime.”

She opens the door wider and Jake steps inside. He’s not sure he’s ever seen the first floor of your home, never seen the family photos, bible verses, and other memorabilia that adorn the spaces. Jake has only ever entered your home through your bedroom window, only witnessing the sanctuary of your room.

Suddenly, Jake remembers what he’s holding in his left hand.”These are for you, ma’am.”

Your mother graciously accepts with the same soft smile on her face.

“Thank you, Jayeun. I’ll ask Y/F/N to see if he’s available to see you.” With that, she leaves Jake to himself.

He takes in your living room more. Framed pictures of you and your siblings sit along the fireplace mantel, big smiles in every photo. Jake recognizes the most recent one- a photo from your college graduation. The cap, gown, and diploma all compliment you so well. But, Jake’s favorite part of the picture is your beautiful smile. Joy was truly shining through you.

Jake remembers that night well. It was late, after all the celebrations had commenced. The whole day, Jake had only seen a glimpse of you at your graduation party held at the church. He could never get too close, not with your father nearby.

So, he did the next best thing. He snuck into your window that night, graduation gifts in hand. You always kept the window unlocked just for him. Jake climbed through the window to see you sat on your bed, book in hand. The light from the lamp gives you a soft glow and Jake nearly crumbles.

“Hi beautiful.” He walks right to you, purpose in his step. He plants a soft lingering kiss on your lips that leaves you giggling in adoration when he pulls away.

“Congratulations.” He whispers, staring right into your eyes.

“Thank you.” You reply, shyly. No matter how long Jake has been doting on you, you still can’t help but get shy around him.

“I have something for you.”

“Jake,” You chide, “You know you don’t have to get me anything.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

Before you could protest more, Jake begins pulling things out of his gift bag. He places a piece of cake covered by a plastic box, a cassette tape reading “4 my girl”, and a card on your bed.

A year later and Jake still prides himself on the joy that overtook your face at his gifts.

A slice of cake from your favorite bakery- a sweet you can’t have often so as to avoid the sin of gluttony, the words of your parents.

A mixtape that Jake made himself, a mix of your favorite songs and Jake’s, along with some new ones. He knew your parents were quite strict on the media you consume, but he knew how you loved music so he gifted you access to it.

And a handwritten card. This was the hardest gift for Jake. He’d never been good at expressing his feelings through words, but he wanted to try for you.

He’s sure that if he were to reread the card right now, it would be a bunch of nonsense. But, he hoped that you would be able to piece together the simple truth: he loves you.

Your eyes overtake the gifts in awe.

“Oh, Jake.” You start, trying to contain the tremble in your lip, “Thank you so much.” Your genuinity made his heart swoon.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I wanted to.”

You share your cake with Jake, because of course you would, and when you finish, Jake laid by your side as you recounted your graduation day. He insisted you shared every detail- he wanted to feel like he was next to you the whole day.

Eventually, you fall asleep from exhaustion. Jake watches as your eyes slowly fell shut and your breathing evened. He never allows himself to fall asleep next to you, the fear from being found out by your parents is too great. If that ever happened, Jake knew he would be okay. You, on the other hand, would not face such an easy out. Knowing your father, he had an idea of what kind of punishment you might face.

Your parents know about Jake; they know you had some kind of feelings for him. But, your father hates it. He despises the boy, thinking of him as nothing but trouble. Hates his hair, claiming it’s unkempt; hates his tattoos and piercings, claiming it as demonic vandalism to his body; hates his attitude, claiming it as unholy.

Despite your father’s hatred towards Jake, you couldn’t stay away. Curiosity got the best of you at the beginning and you started seeking out the boy in town. You found his hair and piercings attractive and his tattoos artistic. You weren’t sure where your father discovered Jake’s attitude problem- he had only shown kindness to you and those around you when you were together.

At the beginning, your father forbade you from seeing Jake. It broke your heart and desperation crawled its way out of your voice as you begged your father not to keep him from you. Months and months passed, yet your pleading did not cease. Your father soon realized your soul remained pure, no detection of Jake’s corruption in you.

So, he eased up on you. But, rigid boundaries remained in place.

You could see Jake, but only at church on Sundays and Wednesdays. Phone calls stopped after 8 p.m. He was only allowed on the first floor of your home, never venturing upstairs to your room. And, if he wanted to see you at all- he must attend your father’s men’s bible study group at least once a month.

As frustrating as your father’s rules were, Jake followed them to a T. Over the past three years, he never missed a service, covered his tattoos around your family at all times, phone calls ended by 7:55 p.m., and he even attended your father’s study group at least twice a month.

It was worth it. Even to see just glimpses of you, it was worth it.

Of course, your parents didn’t know about Jake sneaking through your bedroom window most nights or the few occasions you were the one to climb out of your window.

Those years of following every social rule, something Jake had not been accustomed to since his youth, had led to this moment.

Two pairs of footsteps snap Jake out of his daydream.

Jake comes face to face with your father, who’s in a pressed suit and tie, as he always seems to be, with reading glasses perched on the end of his nose and eyebrows raised as he stares down the boy.

“How can I help you, Mr. Sim?” Each character pronounced in the perfect Southern accent, carrying the cadence of a pastor. His tone is skeptical, as it typically is when he talks to Jake, or talks down to him more like.

“Hello Sir. I would like to talk to you about a matter concerning your daughter.” Jake’s practiced response comes out instantly. He has to physically steady his voice and force himself to look your father in the eye, refusing to let his intense gaze intimidate it.

This is for you. For you. For you.

“Come with me.” Your father turns and heads toward his office. Jake follows.

Your father’s office is a pure reflection of himself.

Dark-wooden bookshelves and a desk serve as the holding places for copious religious books, including bibles, further readings, and analyses. His pastoral robes hang on the back of the office door. Jake spots communion bowls, acolyte candle lighters, service table cloths, and candles. He recognizes every single thing from church services.

Your father sits in his chair and motions for Jake to sit in the matching chair on the other side of the desk.

“So, you wanna talk about my daughter?” Your father’s voice remains stern and unwavering.

It’s now or never for Jake. He’s practiced this a million times, and now the moment has come. He has to have faith.

“Sir, I would like to ask your permission for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Silence, but your father’s gaze hardens and that is enough for Jake’s breath to hitch and heart to falter.

“You think you’re good enough to marry my daughter?”

Jake prepared for this. He knew he’d be met with at least some sort of resistance.

“I love your daughter so much, sir. I know I can give her the kind of life she deserves- I can give her stability and-“

“And what about her spiritual well being? How will you nurture her holiness?” He fires back, voice raising slightly.

Jake wasn’t sure why your father started to get upset- he’d hoped the conversation wouldn’t get heated, even if the outcome wasn’t what he wanted. But, he came prepared.

“Sir, first Corinthians says love is patient, love is kind. It says that love protects and trusts and hopes and perseveres. I intend to mirror my marriage with your daughter after this verse.” Jake rehearses- a verse he remembered from his required Sunday services. In his nervousness, he couldn’t remember the verse word for word, but he got the message across and that is all that matters.

“You think reciting a bible verse will impress me?”

Your father is impossible to please it seems. Jake’s heart softens for you.

“We will attend service together, every Sunday and Wednesday, and we will volunteer-” Jake continues, voice stricken with panic.

Truth is- he doesn’t know how involved you’ll be in the church when you get married. That’s your decision to make. In the moment, Jake says anything to move the conversation in the direction of his desired outcome.

But, unfortunately, your father sees right through his white lie.

“Don’t you lie to me!” Your father yells, pointing an accusatory finger in Jake’s face.

“I’m not- Sir, I-” Jake’s stuttering begins as his panic intensifies. Of all the scenarios he imagined, he somehow forgot to predict the worst case. Hope took the form of rose colored glasses and discolored the reality of these star crossed lovers.

The speeches, talking points, bible verses, arguments- everything Jake prepared, disappears from his mind in the midst of panic. The angry vision of your father made all other thoughts fleeting.

Jake’s silence allows your father to continue, words led by rage.

“How dare you come in here? How dare you ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage? You are no man of God. You will lead her down a sinful path and I will not accept it. I let her play this little game with you while we waited for a good Christian man to win her heart. I see now, I should have never let things progress this far- you are clearly troubled to think you would ever have the chance to wed Y/N!” Your father’s harsh words echoe off the office walls, echoing from his raised voice and the genuinity of his speech.

Jake’s heart drops further and further into his stomach as your father’s tirade continues. He feels hopeless. He feels as though he just lost you.

Your father stands up from his desk and crosses the room, signaling his final decision and end of this conversation. Jake can only think of one thing left to do. He will beg.

The man had never begged for anything in life. But, in this moment, when he feels you slipping through his fingers, he sets aside all his pride.

Jake literally falls to his knees in front of your father, like a man pleading before God.

“Sir, I’m begging you. I have done everything you required of me for the past three years. I attended extra services, volunteered extra hours. I respected your boundaries- I never called after 8 p.m. and I never questioned you, once. Please, I would do anything for Y/N. I love her so much. I would never ask for your blessing and waste your time if I was not one hundred percent serious about her and this marriage.” Jake’s voice trembles as he speaks his truth. But he doesn’t care. He no longer cares if your father perceives him as weak- he just wants his blessing.

In all honesty, Jake himself couldn’t give a fuck about your father’s blessing. This begging, this pleading is for you. A blessing means holidays and long weekends at your parents’ house. A blessing means your father walking you down the aisle. A blessing means you avoid the devastating effects of your family disowning you.

As much as your father is strict, encouraging a sheltered life within the safety of your small town and your church, you love him. Your feelings toward him are complicated, love mixed with resentment, anger, and pity, but the love was still there.

You never told Jake that your father’s blessing was required to move toward a future together, that a holy blessing would make or break his proposal. In fact, you assured Jake many times, under the stars and under your bed sheets, that nothing could sway your love for him. Nothing could crack the foundation you both had laid over the years for building your future.

But, Jake knows the reality. He isn’t as hopeful and sweet as you. He knows the consequences of marrying him without your father’s blessing.

So he begs.

But, it seems your father’s eyes are clouded with judgement, a juxtaposition to the empathy he preaches every Sunday. Jake doesn’t understand.

How could your father not feel the love Jake has for you?

The frown deepens on your father’s face and he opens his mouth to speak. In a most calm yet unsettling voice, “I think it’s best if you leave Mr. Sim. I will not tolerate this mockery and deception in my home.” your father says, voice not wavering or stuttering for a second.

This is the final decision.

Jake slowly rises from his knees, head hanging low as he resumes standing. He’d never felt so defeated.

Refusing to look your father in the eye, Jake starts the walk of shame out of your home with your father following closely behind.

When Jake steps out of the front door, your father decides to have the final say again, seemingly reveling in Jake’s humiliation.

“Mr. Sim, take our discussion as a sign to let my daughter go. Let her be. She has a place here in our town, in the church. Y/N will not know peace so long as you are in her life. Let me make myself clear.”

Jake’s fists clench at the final words of your father. He couldn’t be more wrong.

But there is no use trying to argue. Your father obviously has no interest in what Jake had to say; he’d be wasting his breath.

So, Jake walks away and he didn’t look back. He walks away from your house, head down and defeated.

But, he’d never walk away from you. Jake needs you now more than ever.

When you arrive home later that evening, you have no idea what transpired a few hours earlier. In complete bliss, you sit down to eat dinner with your family. Usual conversations carry on with your siblings but you do notice how your mother avoids eye contact with you and your father fails to inquire about your activities of the day.

“Did you prepare well for Sunday’s sermon today, father?” You extend a potential olive branch, unsure of the reason behind your parents’ behavior. Did they find out about your late night rendezvous with Jake? After dinner, would they condemn you from seeing him ever again? Your mind races with endless explanations.

“No, not much progress today. But, I’m sure the Lord will guide me tomorrow.” Your father offers a short reply and ends with a tight smile.

An odd reply. Nevertheless, you nod, understanding the conversation isn’t progressing any further.

Silence resume between you, your mother and father, while your siblings chat about whatever happened at school that day.

You hate the silence. This is not a typical family dinner. There must be something that they’re not telling you. You can’t let it go.

“Is everything alright? Did I miss something?” You press, addressing your mother and father. Your mother freezes, spoon halfway to her mouth, but still refusing to look you in the eye.

Your father on the other hand doesn’t miss a beat, “Nothing you need to worry about sweetheart.”

There’s a feeling in your heart that he’s not telling you the whole truth. If there really was an issue that you and your siblings didn’t need to know about, your parents usually mask their feelings in front of the family and discuss matters behind closed doors. That’s how your family worked.

But, now, you can read their tense posture and avoidant behaviors too well. You just want to find out the reason. So, you continue to ask.

“So nothing’s wrong?”

“No.”

Another cursory reply. Your frustration fuels your boldness, Holy self-control faltering for a moment. “God said not to lie, father.”

Your father slams his palm on the table, startling the whole family, yourself included. “That’s enough, Y/N. I don’t know where that attitude has come from. You do not question me. End of discussion.” He stands up and exits the dining room with his plate in hand.

You stare down at your leftover food and you’re suddenly not hungry anymore. Childhood memories rearing their ugly heads: this is why you don’t question your father. The reaction is always the same, you should’ve known.

Your mother stays rooted in place and your siblings look at you with wide eyes. With their eyes on you, you know you must put on a brave face.

“Alright then, I’ll get started on the dishes. Bring your dishes to the kitchen when you’re finished, okay?” You pat your sister’s head and leave the dining room.

Later that night, you still feel the sting from your father’s reaction at dinner. His slap on the table resounds through your mind. To make you feel worse, Jake didn’t call tonight. You waited until 8 p.m., still holding onto hope at 7:59 p.m.

But, your phone remained silent, not even a text. 8 p.m. comes and you leave your phone in your parent’s room, dragging your feet up to your bedroom.

You underestimated how severely that would dampen your mood. Now, tucked in bed, you just want to sleep. Sleep away everything that happened, or didn’t happen that evening.

Right before your eyes flutter shut and your breath evens out, a knock comes from your window, echoing in your otherwise silent bedroom. You’ve never sat up so fast.

You hold your breath for a moment, waiting for Jake to climb through the window as he usually does.

But, the window remains shut. Your confusion only grows.

A minute or two passes, another knock comes through. And, this time, it pulls you out of bed.

You open the door to see Jake, perched on a sturdy tree branch with his head down.

“Jake!” You gasp, despite knowing it would be him.

“Hi, pretty girl.” He leans through the window and places a chaste kiss on your cheek. Even from three words, you can hear how defeated he sounds.

Before you can question and comfort him, he continues. “Can you please come with me?” There is no answer other than yes. You would follow him anywhere.

Jake holds his hand out and helps you out of the window. With careful maneuvering down the tree, you and Jake make it onto the ground safely. Your bedroom faces the woods behind your house, so the lack of light from street lamps makes it difficult to see Jake’s face. You can’t get a read on him.

He takes your hand and leads you. You know he’s taken this path a million times before, so you follow him blindly. You trust and love him so much, you can’t think of a time you won’t.

Eventually you see Jake’s car parked at the end of your street, far enough away to not be seen by wandering eyes within your home.

He opens the car door for you, helps you in, and buckles your seatbelt; you offer him a soft ‘thank you’ and he returns with a soft smile, but, still refusing to look you in the eye. You want so badly to cradle his face and ask him what’s wrong, comfort him and put any fallen pieces back together. But, you hesitate. Only because you have a feeling, Jake will tell you what’s going on. You trust him to communicate with you, to let you inside that beautiful mind of his.

When Jake starts to drive, his hand finds yours and it calms your racing thoughts. The ride is silent except for soft music coming from one of the many mixtapes Jake made for you. Soon, you understand where you’re going. Jake has a special spot; his ‘thinking spot’ as he calls it. Somewhere off the main road, tucked between vast pastureland, a creek runs through, creating the perfect ambiance for Jake to clear his head.

You’ve been invited to this spot multiple times before. Jake took you here after your first major fight, stepping away from everything was the perfect way to settle the dust. Jake came here when he decided to propose to you. He set up his bible on the hood of his car and studied- reading up on verses and preparing his speech for your father. He came here when he first realized he was in love with you. Needless to say, this spot is very special to Jake. You can only assume the conversation you’re about to have is serious.

When Jake parks the car, you already hear the soft sound of the creek running outside. He gets out of the car and immediately moves to open your door. Ever the gentleman.

Once you’re out of Jake’s car, you lean against it and observe the man before you. It’s rare to see Jake lack so much confidence. He looks at the ground and then to his left, to his right, but never at you. His hands are in his pockets as he rocks back and forth on his heels, tattoos on his hands and wrists peeking out.

“Love, can you tell me what’s going on? Are you okay?” You ask softly, wanting so badly to pull him close. But, he surprisingly put some distance between you, simultaneously putting an ache in your heart.

“Baby, I-” Jake starts, voice already trembling. With a deep breath, he continues, “I failed you baby. I’m sorry.” His resolve crumbles almost immediately, tears falling fast and he hides his head in his hands. It’s your queue to embrace your love.

“What? Jake, what are you talking about?” You gently pry his hands away from his face as you try to coax an answer out of him.

He steps back from you, intensifying the ache in your chest as you watch the man you love so much pull away from your comfort.

WIth a shuddering breath, Jake tries to explain himself. Usually, when he’s with you, his mind is clear. But, tonight, his thoughts are entangled and he doesn’t know quite how to tell you what happened. Fear is the reason why Jake’s words are trapped in his throat. Fear of losing you.

“I tried. I really tried. But, he wouldn’t listen. Baby, I’m sorry.” Jake’s crying and trying to breathe in between his words, but they leave you even more confused.

Who is ‘he’? What did Jake try to do?

“Jake, I’m-”

“I asked your dad today. For his blessing. Because, I want to marry you, sweetheart. But, he said no. I failed you and I’m so sorry.” Jake’s cries have eased and he now sounds tired and defeated. He studies the ground once again, unable to look you in the eye right now. Jake is afraid to find out what resides in your eyes. What if love is replaced by disappointment? What if you’re disappointed he couldn’t fight for you? Will you leave him for the man he can’t be?

“Oh, Jake.” Your voice is as soft and comforting as you will it to be; tears build in your waterline. He wants to marry you. You don’t feel disappointment toward Jake- you never could, especially not after what he did for you. Confronting your father? Not an easy feat.

You take slow steps toward the man, worried he might take another step back. When you reach him, you gently lift his chin up with your hand. You need him to look you in the eye for this.

“You could never fail me, ever. Do you hear me? You didn’t fail me today.”

Jake takes a deep breath and you continue. “Jake, if anything, you did a great act of love today. You didn’t have to talk to my father, but you did anyway. I love you so much and I want us to spend the rest of our lives together. Nothing my father said could change anything about how we feel about each other. But, thank you, my love, for trying.” You hope Jake can feel the genuinity and love in your voice and see it in your eyes. But, your hope begins to falter when Jake starts to shake his head while you speak.

“You don’t understand,” Jake takes another shuddered breath, “Do you know what will happen if we get married without your father’s blessing? I can’t- I can’t ruin your life like that.”

It’s your turn to shake your head, “Nothing will matter if they keep me from you. They might be mad at first, but Jake, if my father and mother really love me, they’ll have to accept that you and I are together. You aren’t ruining anything baby, I promise.”

Jake’s mouth trembles and tears fall from his waterline. You pull Jake into a tight hug, arms wrapping around his torso as his head finds the perfect place in the crook of your neck. Murmurs of sweet nothings fall from your mouth as you rub Jake’s back, offering comfort in any way you can.

Some time passes, you’re not sure how much, but you’re still holding each other, reveling in the peace that you offer one another. Jake stopped crying a while ago, feeling much lighter than he did a few hours ago. Earlier that night, he convinced himself there was no happy ending to this night. That, when you heard of his failure, you’d walk away, move on, and find yourself a good Christian man. You’d think of Jake as only a flicker in your life, a mere act of young adult rebellion.

But, you only wanted Jake. He is the good man that you need. You weren’t sure where you were going from here, how your parents would react, or how you would build a future with Jake. But you did know that love is patient, love is kind, and love is Jake.

disclaimer: This work is purely fictional. Nothing in this work reflects real life and reality.

#enhypen fanfic #enhypen fic #jake sim #jake x reader #jake angst #enhypen angst #enhypen imagines #enhypen imagine #jake imagine

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starcandybby · 21 days ago