#Nd that's only 1 chapter

[waterbearable]

both in an attempt to be more deliberate about the work I'm doing w Personal Project and to stop myself from the pattern I have which is Do No Creative Work/Spend Hours At A Time On One Aspect of Creative Work, I have set a very loose timeline/goals for progress on Personal Project, part of which is to do my best to commit myself to spending at least an hour each on writing, drawing, and reading weekly (with the idea that I could literally just do 15 minute bursts multiple times a week and still meet the goal, since I normally have trouble scheduling things out bc I feel like there's not enough time in my day For A Task)

[ja3yun]

The Sun that Always Burns | S.JY

chapter 2: it falls apart

sim jaeyun x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), protected sex, oral (f.rec), fingering, petnames (baby, princess), slight exhibitionism, the end of this chapter hurts (sorry), angst/fluff, not really proofread, anything else please lmk! w.c: 17.4k synopsis: high school is ending, jaeyun has your future all planned out, but when life throws you a curveball and you make a rash decision to protect you and jaeyun...it falls apart a/n: hi! chapter 2 is here <33 a massive thank you for all the lovely comments and feedback with chapter one, it means so much to me. this chapter is a little sore if you love ynjake but it i also preparing you for much worse so!! enjoy!

chapter 1 | masterlist | chapter 3

As the end of high school loomed over you like sleep paralysis, you found yourself in a nightmarish swamp of college brochures, scrolling through endless websites in search of something - literally anything - that might ignite a spark of interest. That was the big problem, though. You weren’t passionate about anything that could translate into a career. Your teen brain only sought after one end goal and that was Jaeyun. He was all you could think about; the only future you’re certain of.

Jaeyun, on the other hand, has always known what he wants. Apollo College in Busan. It has been his dream for as long as he can remember. He spoke about it even way back when you two were mearley best friends. He was born to study mathematical physics, his mind a labyrinth of theories and equations you could barely wrap your head around - which isn’t saying much, you barely know your times tables. 

But, yet, you listen to him go on about it over and over again because you loved nothing more than the way his eyes lit up whenever he spoke about quantum mechanics, the way his enthusiasm turned the most mundane concepts into something alive. Even though physics itself bored you to tears, listening to him talk about it made it feel like poetry. 

Sometimes, you even make him read out the study material to you just so you actually consume some knowledge. His accent mixed with his drive to help you actually did positively impact your grades even if only slightly.

You, however, had nothing of passion like that. No grand ambitions, no clear direction. And Jaeyun, despite being your greatest love, was not exactly a viable career option. As much as you’d love to be his full-time trophy wife, reality wasn’t so forgiving. 

“What about Apollo, though?” Jaeyun asked, his eyes glued to his phone as he scrolls through yet another website on your bedroom floor. “They offer some ND-level courses. You could do one of those.”

You scoff, tossing a balled-up piece of paper at him from your bed. “Baby, be serious. I am not applying to a college for geniuses.”

Jaeyun catches the paper with ease, smirking as he sets his phone aside, full undivided attention on you. He gets up slowly, moving to sit next to you on your flower-patterned bedding. “You could totally pull it off. Imagine it - my girl, a woman in STEM.” He gives you a slow once-over, his smirk deepening. “It’s kinda hot, actually. Very hot.”

Rolling your eyes, you snatch his glasses off his face and slide them onto your own. Peering at him over the rims, you let your voice dip into something sultry. “Oh? Like this?”

Something dark flickers in his gaze. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you don’t miss the way his jaw tenses, nostrils flaring slightly in arousal. He’s never outright admitted it, but you know he has a thing for you in glasses. You’re not above teasing him about it either. Times when you want him to focus on you rather than his work, you’ll put on a pair of his specs, biting your lip and cradle his lap between your thighs. It’s a sure win tactic.

Now, if only you put as much effort into school and your future as you did seducing your boyfriend into bed.- you could make it to Harvard with top honors.

“My girl looks good all the time,” he murmurs, shifting closer, “but you in STEM? That’s marriage material, baby. I’ll wife you up right now.”

Heat creeps up your neck, his eyes eating you whole as he tries to trap you between him and the bed, ready to fuck a ‘yes’ out of you and get your acceptance to apply for a University you know you don’t stand a chance in. 

So instead of giving in, you finally gain your bones back, prying your eyes away from his love-drunk gaze. You place a finger against his forehead and push him back before he can close the distance. 

“Jaeyun, this is serious.” 

Jaeyun groans dramatically, flopping onto his back and staring blankly at the ceiling, his cock sighing at your rejection. “I am serious. You need a college and - okay, if not Apollo - Busan has loads. One of them has to have something you like. Something you can apply for so we can be close.”

You bite your lip, fingers drumming against the laptop keyboard. “What if I don’t find anything? What if I get stuck here, living with my parents forever, only seeing you once a month or something?”

That gets his attention. 

He sits up straighter, his expression sobering in an instant. “Y/N, if you can’t find something here, I’ll look somewhere else. My grades are good enough to get in anywhere.” It’s a subtle brag but you know he’s right. 

But that doesn’t mean he can just give up his dream school that he has spent countless nights dreaming and studying to get in to. You refuse to watch him throw it all away for you. It’s a ridiculous notion, one you can’t sit and watch him contemplate for more than a second.

“No,” you say immediately, shaking your head. “I am not letting you give up your dream school because I’m too thick to get into a single college.”

“But you’re my dream, Y/N. I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go. I’d give up anything for you, you know that.” His serious expression makes you a little uncomfortable. “I’ll get an apprenticeship or just a job if there isn’t a course for me.”

There is something about hearing him say he’ll throw his aspirations out the window for you that hurts your heart and you don't know why. It’s romantic, most girls would kill for a boy so understanding. But that’s not how you see it.

“Jaeyun don’t say that,” discarding your laptop and shuffling towards him, hoping the closer you are, the further deep your words will reach him, convince him. “I didn’t watch you need an IV drip from studying so hard just for you to not go.”

Something unreadable flickers across his face before he exhales, dropping his gaze. “I might not even get in, y’know.”

Immediately, your hands come up to cradle his face. “Baby, you’re a shoe-in. You’re the smartest person I know.” 

You always wondered why your boyfriend has such a hard time believing in his own abilities. He knows he’s smart, and he knows that colleges are falling at his feet to get his brains and athleticism on their roster. But something about when Jaeyun truly wants something, like this college, like you, he just lacks the self belief that he is even good enough for it. 

You run your thumbs over his cheekbones, watching as he leans into your touch. “I just wish you could see yourself the way I do. You’re born to do amazing things, and one of them is attend Apollo.” 

His lips curl into a small, sad smile, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrists. “You always say stuff like that.”

“Because it’s true,” you whisper. 

He holds your gaze for a long moment studying you, like he’s signing a final document in his mind. A declaration of some sorts. He looks a little nervous, haunted by the prospect of something that he won’t say. 

“Baby?” You nudge him. “What’s wrong?”

Jaeyun hesitates before speaking, kissing your palms slowly before letting go. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll go anywhere you go. I don’t care where. I just - I can’t do long-distance. I know what happens in long-distance relationships.” His fingers curl into the blanket beneath him, hurting at even the prospect of this reality. “At first, we’ll talk all the time. Then life gets in the way, and suddenly we’re only FaceTiming once a week. Then it’s just texting because that’s easier, and before we know it, we barely talk at all. And then you’ll meet someone else - someone less clingy, more attractive, someone who can actually be there. And we’ll break up.”

His voice is thick as he barely manages to push out the final words. 

Your heart aches to see him like this, so doubtful. “Jaeyun,” you murmur, waiting until he meets your eyes. His are glossy, filled with a fear he doesn’t want to voice but can’t hide. “I’m not going anywhere. I will find a school in Busan. I will be right beside you for as long as you’ll have me. And we will never break up. Okay?”

Deep down you feel his concerns too. Of course you do. Long distance isn’t for the faint hearted; there’s more chance to misinterpret words and texts, less chance to keep the bonded knot sturdy between you. And with him saying all this, talking about how long distance wouldn’t work for you both, it make you start to really question the what ifs. 

But right now you have to convince Jaeyun that everything will be fine, all while trying to convince yourself in the process. Doubts that weren’t on your mind now are, but you push them down as far as you can - stamping on them like you’re trying to fit one more piece of trash in the can.

Jaeyun searches your face for any sign of hesitation, but he finds none. Slowly, he nods.

A breath of relief escapes you, and you lean in, pressing a faint kiss to his lips. “I love you, you idiot. Nothing will break us apart, okay?”

Jaeyun chuckles against your mouth, kissing you again, lingering this time. “I love you too.”

When you pull away, you shoot him a teasing grin. “Now come on, use that big sexy brain of yours to help me get into college.”

Jaeyun’s laughter fills the room, and just like that, the weight in his chest lightens. You spend the rest of the night filling out applications, finding comfort in the promise that, no matter what, you will find a way to stay together.

________

Rejection. Rejection. Rejection.

You open the next email, already bracing yourself. Another rejection - your seventh, to be exact. 

With a sigh, you lock your phone and rub at your temples. Time is slipping through your fingers. It has been two months since you sat in your bedroom, applying to a million and one colleges, and now, with just six weeks left, your options are very quickly dwindling. 

He’s moving to Busan. You’re supposed to be moving with him. But if nowhere accepts you…then what?

Your mind drifts back to the moment Jaeyun’s future was set in stone, the day he got his acceptance letter from Apollo.

There’s a frantic knock at the door, so insistent it makes your dad yank it open with a scowl. "Who the fuc—Oh, Jake. What’s the big rush?" he grumbles, irritation fading as he takes in Jaeyun’s breathless excitement.

"Is Y/N here? I need to see her," Jaeyun pants, his eyes already darting past your dad, ready to bolt up the stairs.

Your dad barely has time to nod before Jaeyun is kicking off his shoes and taking the steps two at a time.

"I think Jaeyun got into college," your dad remarks to your mum, who peeks around the corner, watching the whirlwind with a mixture of amusement and wonder.

In your room, you’re hunched over your desk, drowning in revision, completely unaware of the storm about to hit you. Your hair is a mess in a sloppy bun, your baggy sweatpants are the same ones you slept in, and Jaeyun’s old football jersey - the one he gave you after his first high school championship win - hangs loosely from your frame. You look like a typical stressed teenager.

When he reaches your doorway, he stops, his chest heaving, eyes drinking you in like he’s seeing you for the first time. "Beautiful…" he murmurs under his breath.

You look up, blinking at him in confusion. "Jaeyun? What are you doing here? I thought I was meeting you later."

He strides over, thrusting an envelope towards you, his hands trembling slightly with anticipation, mouth too dry to speak. You take it cautiously, eyes flicking to his face before unfolding the letter.

"Dear Mr. Sim," you read aloud, heart pounding. "We have received an overwhelming number of applications for the Mathematical Physics BSc Honours programme. However, we are delighted to offer you a place-"

Your breath catches. The words blur as they register in your mind.

"Jaeyun," you whisper. "You got in?"

He nods, disbelief still written across his face despite the confirmation in black and white. A squeal erupts from your throat before you can stop it, and in the next moment, you launch yourself at him. He catches you with ease, arms locking tightly around your waist as he spins you slightly, laughter bubbling from his lips.

Joy and pride flood the room, washing away the quiet rejection that has lived here for too long. At least once, this space gets to witness a letter that doesn’t end in an apology.

"This is amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you!" The words spill from you, breathless but nonetheless filled with exhilaration. You pull back just enough to cup his face, your thumbs brushing over the warmth of his cheeks. "You fucking did it."

His grin is blinding, eyes crinkled with elation. In this moment, Jaeyun is the picture of someone whose dreams are finally within reach. And God, you love him. You’re proud of him. But deep down, in a place you don’t dare voice, you envy him.

That memory snaps like a rubber band in your mind as you force yourself back to reality. You mutter a quiet, ‘fuck’ stuffing your phone into your pocket before heading to class, the weight of failure dragging behind you. 

Nowhere wants you. Not Busan, not Yangsan-Si, not even Gimhae.

You picked courses regarding subjects you enjoy in school, or rather, got decent enough grades in to hopefully scrape a pity acceptance. But it wasn’t enough. You aren’t enough.

Only two options remain.

One is a short twenty-minute commute from Jaeyun’s future campus. The other? Four hours away, tucked on the outskirts of Pyeongchang. You never mentioned that one to him. You didn’t really think you needed to. It was your ‘just in case’ choice - the one you assumed you’d never have to consider.

Now, it remains as possibly one of your only options.

Your feet feel heavier as you step into class, suddenly feeling the weight of having to tell your boyfriend that one of the only colleges you have left as a viable future is in fact going to induce his worst fear - long distance.

Jaeyun’s face lights up the second he spots you cross the threshold, waving you over with that easy, boyish grin of his. His chair is turned away from his desk as he chats with Jay and Heeseung, completely at ease.

"Baby, come here!" he calls out to you, unbothered by the eyes that shift toward him with his echoing accent. Jaeyun has never been quiet about his affection for you. The class, especially the girls, hate it, but he doesn’t care - could not give a single fuck.

You smile fondly at his gesture, letting the warmth of his presence chase away your spiraling thoughts as best as they can. He has a way of taking everything dark and making them disappear. 

As you move to sit beside Jay, Jaeyun tugs you onto his lap instead, his arms looping around your waist effortlessly, snuggling you into him like a puzzle piece. Jaeyun presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder in response, his smile smug, utterly unashamed. 

"You guys are disgusting." Jay, Jaeyun’s friend, groans, pretending to vomit.

"It’s a good thing you two are going to college together," Heeseung teases, leaning back in his chair as he pats Jaeyun’s arm. "I think my man here might actually die if he’s away from you for more than three minutes."

That sinking feeling starts to rise again, quick and overwhelming.

"Yeah, he wouldn’t last a day long distance," Jay adds, nudging Jaeyun’s knee.

The words dig under your skin, settling like lead in your stomach.

There is one more chance.

Feigning nonchalance, you slip from Jaeyun’s grasp, prying his hands from your waist. "As much as I love being the source of your collective disgust," you joke lightly, "I need to pee before class starts."

Jaeyun pouts slightly, his hand hovering at yours in a weak attempt to hold you captive, but lets you go, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you escape. “Don’t take too long, baby.”

Plastering on a fake smile, you nudge your nose with his as a promise before walking out briskly, weaving through the throngs of students in the hallway until you reach the bathroom. The second you’re alone, you exhale sharply, pressing your hands against the sink, gripping tight at the edges as you try to find some balance in this chaotic mess. 

The doubt creeps in again, insidious and unwelcome.

It’s not that you don’t believe long distance can work. It’s that you know it won’t work for him. He said it himself, he can’t do it. He can’t imagine you not by his side, to hold you every morning, to kiss and cuddle you when he’s stressed or just needing to feel you. He is willing to give up everything to be with you.

A familiar ping echoes through the empty bathroom. Your fingers scramble to unlock your phone, heart hammering as you read the notification.

Mail: Offer Update – Kyungsung University.

Your pulse thunders. This is it. Your last chance. Last chance to make this right and start your life with him in Busan.

With a deep breath and shaky heart, you open the email.

Rejection.

Your breath catches. The world tilts.

There are no more chances.

Shit.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror. The girl looking back at you is unrecognisable - eyes red, lips trembling, the weight of disappointment heavy in her gaze. A choked sob escapes your throat before you can stop it.

You’re going to lose him.

Jaeyun’s voice echoes in your mind. I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go. I’d give up anything for you.

He meant it. He would give it all up. But the thought of letting him do that? Of being the reason he threw away his dreams? That’s a burden too heavy to bear.

Another ping comes from your phone and you squeeze your eyes shut to get rid of the tears that blur your vision. 

Mail: Offer Update: Avanti College

Dear Miss L/N,

We have received your application. After much consideration, we would be delighted to offer you a place at Avanti College for the study of Film and Media. As you may be aware, our school terms begin earlier than others. We will send you by post appropriate packages for you to start in July. For now, we have attached a link to our module selection system. Please choose your classes as soon as possible, as spaces are filling quickly.

We look forward to welcoming you next month.

Yours sincerely,Mr Suh Kyung MinHead of Recruitment. 

You read it once. Then again. Then a third time.

Your vision sharpens, the crushing weight in your chest momentarily lifting. You got in.

Somewhere wants you.

A sharp, disbelieving laugh escapes your lips as you clutch the phone tighter. Against all odds, someone out there believes you're good enough. You have a future. The rejection after rejection, the sinking dread, the hopelessness - it’s all gone in an instant, replaced by the undeniable proof staring back at you.

But then that spark of joy fades as the rain of your situation comes pouring down. It’s four hours away from Busan. Four hours away from the love of your life. It would oddly be easier to accept that you just weren’t meant to go to college at all, but to know that your future is here in this email makes you wonder if it’s a sign.

A sign that Jaeyun is meant to flourish without you, or vice verca. 

So what do you do?

Tell Jaeyun the truth - that you didn’t get into any of the colleges near him. That the only offer you received is one that will take you miles away. But you already know what he’ll do. He’ll throw everything away for you without hesitation. He’ll give up his dream university, his future, everything, just to stay by your side.

Or.

Don’t tell him. Accept the offer, pack your bags, and disappear. Leave behind your friends, your family - everyone who might cave and tell Jaeyun where you’ve gone. If you vanish without a word, he’ll have no choice but to continue on the path he worked so hard for.

The second option feels right - a little drastic. But right. There is no way you are going to be the one to leave Jaeyun’s future desolate, you couldn’t offer him a future better than the one he had already set out for himself. 

So you just won’t tell him. Disappear forever and delude yourself that he’ll move on easily.

Does his happiness and future mean more to you than your own? Absolutely. And for him to propel the way you know he can, you need to let him follow his path, even if that means sacrificing your own joy.

Looking back in the mirror, your reflection is hollow. Distant. The girl staring back at you is already grieving something she hasn’t even lost yet. 

Now, you have another choice; make this the best few weeks with Jaeyun, or slowly break away to make the situation easier on you both. Deep down you knew even if you tried to distance yourself, he would find a way to see you. He would move heaven and earth to get into your heart and eventually rip the truth from the chest you’re keeping locked away in there.

So, you can only do one thing - give your undivided attention to him just as you have all these years. Give him all the love you have, enough to fill the rest of his years with.

You have roughly five weeks. Five weeks before you’re away to live a completely new life. You’ll have to remind yourself why you’re doing this, why you’re hurting yourself by leaving your only love. 

But it’s for him. All of it. 

_______

Two weeks have passed and two weeks remain until you leave for Pyeongchang, and you’ve mastered the art of concealing your hurt. Jaeyun keeps asking if you’ve heard back from colleges, his curiosity growing sharper each time, but you just shrug and steer the conversation elsewhere. He’s getting suspicious, his gaze lingering a little too long when you deflect, but you reassure him with the same excuse - there’s still time. Most of your applications were for clearance spots, and they tend to respond last minute. 

He buys it. For now.

With exams over and school finally behind you, the only logical way for your entire year to celebrate is a party - a big one; one that could rival any American movie you’ve seen. Now that all of you can legally drink, there’s no limit to how much alcohol will be passed around - tequila, Sourz, Sambuca, Jager, all of the above is being checked in. And because the chances of seeing any of these people again are practically nonexistent, you want to let loose. 

No, you need to. 

For weeks, worry and dread have gnawed at you, and tonight, you crave the kind of recklessness that will drown it all out. You want to get fucked up in the most unpolitest way possible. That does run the risk of blurting out your secret to Jaeyun, however, you plan to pass the blabbermouth stage of drunk and go right to blottered.

Ryujin and Yeji are on their way to pick you and Jaeyun up from his house. Yeji, having lost a brutal game of rock, paper, scissors, is stuck as the designated driver and won’t shut up about how unfair it is. Meanwhile, Jaeyun is already dressed, effortlessly stunning in a blue double-denim outfit layered over a white graphic tee. Silver chains glint against his chest, hanging from his black D&G belt, and the rings you’ve felt on your throat more times than you can count adorn his fingers. A pearl necklace - Heeseung’s gift - rests against his collarbones, catching the light as he scrolls through his phone. His hair, styled the way he likes it, is perfectly parted, his forehead on display.

Jaeyun is the most gorgeous boy you have ever seen, and somehow, you find something new to admire about him every single day.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you catch sight of his reflection and pause, noticing the subtle change in his frame. You see him every day but something about the way his clothes are sitting on him places your view on him differently. He’s broader, taller, more…handsome. Some of his teenage features lost from the long nights of studying and passing time.

“Have you been going to the gym?” you ask, adjusting your earrings, your tone casual but your curiosity piqued.

He shrugs with his eyes still glued to his screen as he scrolls mindlessly. “Dunno. Must be all the extra lifting at work. Shit’s heavy, y’know?”

Don’t you know it. You work in a shitty convenience store too, and you know how heavy boxes can be. But you aren’t exactly walking around like Beth Pheonix.

Jaeyun still sits there, attention averted to some weird TikTok video that only he could get on his fyp. You huff, watching him intently, waiting - willing - him to notice the effort you put into your appearance. The white two-piece you bought for tonight leaves little to the imagination, hugging you in all the right places. You feel powerful, sexy. But he doesn’t even glance up.

Dragging your tongue over your teeth, you step behind him, your hands gliding over his shoulders, fingers pressing gently into his muscles. “You have gotten bigger,” you purr, letting your touch linger.

Jaeyun hums in response, still distracted, and that simply won’t do. If he won’t pay attention on his own, you’ll make him.

With slow, calculated movements, you step around to his front, one knee pressing onto the chair as you straddle his lap. His body tenses as you come closer into proximity, but his eyes remain trained on his phone. Not for long. You settle your weight against him, tilting your head as you wait for him to look at you.

And then he does.

His mouth parts slightly, eyes dragging over your moisturised body, darkening with each passing second. The phone is forgotten, locked and tossed aside without a second thought.

“Fuck, baby.”

You smirk vitoriously, lips curving as you bite down on the corner of your lip. “Do I look good?” Your fingers skim up his chest, curling around his neck as you shift your hips, pressing against him just enough to tease.

Jaeyun’s hands find your waist instinctively, gripping you tight. His voice is lower, rougher when he speaks. “Shit, Princess, you look ethereal.” His fingers flex against your exposed skin to make sure you’re really there. “Do we have to go? I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this.”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest but is cut off as he leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a lingering kiss. His thumbs brush over the fabric of your outfit, possessive, debating whether to peel it off or let you wear it just so he can show you off. He’ll be the envy of everyone in that house, he knows that for sure.

“Yes,” you breathe against his lips, pulling back just enough to see the frustration flicker across his face. “I wanna get drunk and dance.” You slide off his lap, tugging at his hand. “And you get to tell everyone that this” - you gesture to yourself, “is all yours.”

Jaeyun rolls his eyes, but the smirk playing at his lips betrays him. “Baby, don’t tempt me. I’ll go into that party and put on a show so they know who you belong to.”

A quiet moan slips past your lips when his hands beging to kneed your ass, fingers pulsing enough to bruise. His brow quirks at your reaction to his words. “Oh? Do you like that idea?” His grip tightens. “Should I just bend you over in the middle of the party and fu-”

Your hand flies over his mouth, cutting him off as you dissolve into laughter. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

Jaeyun just grins, shrugging as he pulls your hand from his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm before intertwining your fingers with his. “We should head downstairs and say goodbye to my parents.”

He turns to leave, but you yank him back, stealing another kiss. It’s deep, slow, filled with a desperation you can’t name. You love having him here, so accessible, so tangible. 

Jaeyun groans against your lips, tasting the familiar cherry lip oil that has lingered on his tongue for three years. His fingers tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against him, as if he can’t get enough.

And honestly, he doesn’t think he ever will.

“Jaeyun,” you murmur against his lips, but he only deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth so he can steal the words straight from your breath. His grip tightens around your waist, and you feel the way he presses closer, as if sheer proximity could fuse you together. “Baby, we need to go,” you try again, but your voice is weak, betraying how much you don’t really want to stop either.

“No,” he whines, lifting you effortlessly, his hands firm under your thighs as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. “If we don’t go then I won’t start swinging at guys for looking at you too long.” His voice is a low rasp between kisses, playful yet dark with promise. You throw your head back in laughter, his words of possessivness making you giddy, loved.

But Jaeyun sees an opportunity in your exposed throat. Quickly, his lips latch onto the delicate skin just above your freckle, the one spot he knows makes you quiver with need. The first kiss is featherlight, but then he sucks, a slow, deliberate pull that makes warmth pool low in your stomach. His teeth scrape against you before he soothes the bite with his tongue.

A gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Jaeyun,” you warn, but your voice is breathy, and he knows it’s not real resistance.

He hums in satisfaction, his mouth not relenting, lavishing the same spot with nips and licks until heat prickles under your skin. When he finally pulls away, he inspects his work, and a smirk curls his lips.

“There.” He presses one final, chaste kiss to the fresh mark before looking at you with innocent eyes, as if he hadn’t just branded you in the middle of his bedroom. “Now everyone will know you’re mine.”

You scramble to the mirror, fingers brushing over the forming hickey - deep red and already threatening to turn purple. You sigh, caught between amusement and mild exasperation. “What are you? Thirteen?”

A low chuckle rumbles from behind you. “Just possessive,” he says so simply to his actions claiming to you like a territorial wolf. Then his voice drops into something quieter, something laced with an emotion that knots your stomach. Vulnerability. “Can’t have another Sunghoon situation, now can I?”

The mention of that birthday night makes your chest tighten. You never bring it up. You try to forget it ever happened. A stupid drunken mess that makes your stomach curdle if you give it more than a second thought. But Jaeyun never truly let it go.

His gaze softens as he looks at you though the mirror, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I can’t lose you. Not for anything.”

His words turn over like acid in your belly. You think about what’s coming in two weeks. About the choice you’ve already made. About how he’ll wake up one day, reach for you, and find nothing but an empty space.

You have to tell him.

But you can’t.

So you do the only thing you can - you plaster on a fake-ass smile, slip your arms around his neck, press a lingering kiss to his nose, and lie through your teeth “That won’t happen, babe.” 

A car honk from outside saves you from lingering too long in the moment, from staring too deep into his eyes and spilling your darkest secret. 

You hear Ryujin’s voice faintly through the window, impatient as ever and Jaeyun takes your hand, fingers lacing through yours like it’s second nature. Together, you rush downstairs, slipping into the night, into the reckless distraction of the party that awaits.

—

By the time you arrive, the place is already alive. Music pulses around the walls, bass vibrating under your feet. Crowds spill onto the lawn, half-drunk students laughing too loud, some already absolutely out of their face, others tucked away into dark corners with frisky hands wandering. The dim lights and shifting strobes give the illusion of being in some underground club rather than a house party.

A bit extreme but who are you to complain? You get a night of free alcohol and a few hours to forget everything plaguing your mind.

“Whose house is this?” you ask absently, eyes flicking over unfamiliar faces. 

“Kobayashi Daigo,” Yeji answers, turning toward you with an amused shake of her head. “He was in your class for, like, two years. You don’t remember?”

You blink. The name rings the faintest bell, but you have no memory of ever speaking to him. Which, honestly, isn’t surprising. You were never the type to branch out much beyond your friends. Beyond Jaeyun.

A warm breath ghosts against your ear as Jaeyun leans in. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you a drink.”

His voice is low, teasing. When his tone drops an octave like this, it makes you want to pounce on him instantly. But he doesn’t give you time to respond let alone star in your very own party-porno - his hands find your hips, guiding you through the sea of bodies toward the kitchen. His grip is tight, making sure you don’t slip away.

Ironic.

And maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s selfish to let him believe you’ll be here forever - but for now, you let yourself melt into his touch, let yourself pretend you’re not counting down the days until you disappear.

The kitchen is warm, hazy with the scent of alcohol and something faintly sweet. Amongst the scattered bottles and half-empty cups, your eyes land on a familiar pink liquid - the unmistakable blush of Tequila Rose. Your favourite drink in the entire world. Like fate, it sits on the counter waiting just for you. But just as your fingers curl around the neck of the bottle, another hand - larger, stronger - grips it, stopping you in place.

“Princess, you want a double?” Jaeyun’s voice is smooth, teasing as he tilts the bottle in his hand, already pouring his own. His eyes flick to yours, awaiting confirmation to the answer he already knows. 

You hum, pretending to consider it, before flashing him a knowing smile. “Double.”

Jaeyun grins, pouring the shot to the very brim of the tall glass. The pale pink liquid swirls under the kitchen lights as you lift it to your lips, never once breaking eye contact.

“Cheers,” you say softly.

“Cheers, baby girl.” He knocks his own shot back with ease, slamming the glass onto the worktop with a satisfied exhale ripping from his chest. You watch, mesmerised, as his Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow, the tendons in his neck flexing ever so slightly. His tongue darts out to catch the last lingering drop at the corner of his mouth, and suddenly, the room feels too warm, your own shot burning its way down with more intensity than you expected. It’s not usually this nippy - the milky shot normally a breeze.

“You’re so hot,” you say before you can think twice, the words tumbling from your lips unfiltered.

Jaeyun’s chest rumbles with laughter, his hand already reaching for the bottle again. “I will say the exact same thing about you.” He pours two more shots. “To us, to Busan, to forever.”

The words settle deep in your chest, too heavy for a moment meant to be light. You force a smile and clink your glass against his, swallowing the second shot. The burn is sharper now, the aftertaste bitter in a way it wasn’t before.

You’ll need at least fifteen more to forget that the man in front of you is the one you’re leaving.

—

Three hours later, and the world tilts just slightly.

You aren’t wasted - not yet - but you’re perched on that fragile edge where every movement feels like floating and every sound is cushioned by the pleasant buzz in your veins. The air is heavy with laughter, with the clinking of glasses and the bass of some pop song shaking the walls. Bodies move around you, some swaying, some stumbling, all drowning in the euphoria of the night.

Jaeyun presses in close, his warmth wrapping around you as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Baby, dance with me.”

A shiver snakes down your body as he licks along the shell of your ear before guiding you toward the makeshift dance floor - formerly a living room, now an unholy mess of spilled drinks and swaying bodies. The bass thrums beneath your feet, some pop song pulsing through the speakers, though you hardly register it. Not when Jaeyun presses himself against you, his body molding to yours like second nature.

You move together effortlessly, your hips rolling against him, back arching so that your arse is flush against his front. A moan nearly escapes when you feel him harden beneath you, the heat of it seeping through his jeans. One of your hands reaches back, fingers tangling in his hair as you let yourself get lost in the feeling.

But then something shifts.

Jaeyun’s body goes rigid, his hold on you tightening - not in desire, but in something else entirely.

Curious, you glance up at him, only to find his gaze locked elsewhere, sharp and unrelenting. Following his line of sight, your stomach twists.

Sunghoon.

He’s across the room, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand, his dark eyes fixed on you. He’s not being obvious, but it’s clear enough for Jaeyun to notice, and that’s all it takes.

An uncomfy tension crackles in the air

It’s been over a year since that night - since Sunghoon made it clear he wanted you, since Jaeyun made it clear he wasn’t going to lose you. And while Sunghoon has been nothing but respectful since then, keeping his distance, Jaeyun never truly let it go. He never stopped seeing him as a threat. And now, even after all this time, Sunghoon’s gaze lingers too long, his expression unreadable.

Jaeyun’s tipsy instincts take over as his hand slides lower on your sides, the tips of his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

“Jaeyun,” you warn, voice barely audible over the music. You know where this is going.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, his fingers slip up the material covering the one place Sunghoon wants. That makes his blood boil. He bypasses your underwear with ease. The first brush of his fingertips against your clit has your breath catching in your throat.

“Jaeyun, there are too many people. Let’s just go some-” Your words die as he presses down, a slow, torturous circle. He doesn’t want to go somewhere private, he wants the dark haired boy across the room to see the way you crumble under your boyfriend’s touch.

Your body betrays you, melting against him as heat blooms low in your belly. The music fades into nothing, the chatter of the party a distant hum. It’s just his touch, his breath against your skin, the steady drag of his fingers as they dip lower to your entrance.

“I’m serious, Yunnie,” you manage to whisper, though it’s weak, barely a plea. “There are bedroom’s upstairs-”

He cuts you off again with a sharp press of his thumb, and your words dissolve into a soft, choked whimper. He knew exactly how to get you to see his way, and drunk you is a little less anxious about getting caught because this would not be happening if you weren’t six shots and three double vodka cranberries down.

Jaeyun smirks against your skin, his lips brushing over the mark he left on your neck earlier, tracing it lazily with his tongue. That fire you felt before leaving suddenly rises back to the hickey as it begs to be nipped and soothed. 

And he is giving it to you. His tongue over exaggeratedly flicks over the mark as he rolls his eyes back, thumb rubbing a bit more roughly on your clit. He isn’t touching you for your pleasure alone. He’s making a point. A very, very public one.

His eyes stay locked on Sunghoon’s bewildered ones. 

You don’t know that this isn’t the first time Jaeyun has asserted his dominance over the tall, slim boy. He usually does it subtly; a hot kiss, playing with your hair, or even pulling you into his side as you roam the hallways. Some instances were simply because he wanted too, others were because Sunghoon’s beady eyes were trailing on your figure.

But now he’s stamping the statement into Sunghoon’s mind forever. You are his and no one elses. 

Your knees nearly buckle when he pushes two fingers inside you, curling just right, hitting that spot that has you gripping onto his arms for support, nails digging into his veins as you gasp.

He chuckles lowly, his mouth grazing your ear. “You want me to stop, baby?” His tone is mocking, knowing full well you can’t answer, and even if you did, your answer would definitely not be yes. Not when his fingers are moving faster, his thumb rubbing you raw.

You toss your head back against his shoulder, mouth falling open in a silent moan. Jaeyun buries his face in your neck, whispering sweet nothings into your heated skin. You barely process anything beyond the rush of pleasure building, the coil tightening, your body completely at his mercy.

“Good girl,” he breathes, voice thick with satisfaction.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Not here. Not with the entire party swirling around you, bodies just inches away. But no one notices. No one but Sunghoon, whose jaw is tight, eyes dark with a cocktail mix of envy, disgust, and defeat.

And Jaeyun sees it, eliciting a smirk smothered with satisfaction.

“Cum for me, princess,” he murmurs, fingers relentless as he works you over the edge. “Show them it’s me that makes you feel this good.”

His wrist flicks as he sets a steady rhythm that will have you leaking over his digits in a matter of seconds. The tip of his fingers massage your sweet spot, coaxing every atom in your body to let go, to give him everything. 

And just like that. the coil snaps.

Your orgasm crashes over you, and it takes everything in you not to moan like a desperate little thing in the middle of the party and alert everyone to you and your boyfriend’s exhibitionism. Your nails dig into Jaeyun’s arms harsh enough to leave dents as you ride out your high, body trembling against him as you clamp his hand with your thighs.

Across the room, Sunghoon coughs awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably before turning away, jaw tight, expression unreadable. 

Jaeyun, victorious, only chuckles behind your ear, pulling his fingers from you before turning you to face him.

“Good?” he asks, voice still tinged with amusement.

You let out a breathless laugh, still lightheaded from the intensity of it all. “Fantastic.”

His grin widens, something almost predatory glinting in his gaze. The without warning, he brings his hand up and slips his fingers into your mouth. You gasp, but your lips close around them instinctively. He watches you, utterly transfixed, as you lap your tongue over his digits, tasting yourself, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your swollen lips as he pulls his fingers free.

Your heart pounds as you stare into his eyes, love and guilt journey through your heart - both long staying passengers.

The night is still young, the drinks still flowing, and the music still loud. 

This party was exactly what you needed.

________

Two days. That’s all the time you have left before you leave everything behind. The weight of it sits heavy in your chest, pressing down with every breath, an ache that refuses to leave you alone. It has all went in too quickly, this past month filled with so many memories that you will never ever forget.

It makes you wonder if you made the right choice by not breaking up with Jaeyun once you found out you wouldn’t be going to Busan. 

You try to push your thoughts aside as you doddle about the convenience store for your last shift. It’s a shitty job but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it in some strange, sentimental way. The regulars, your boss, the co-workers you spent mindless hours with. Even the tedious restocking and the beep of the register have become part of a routine you weren’t quite ready to let go of.

You won’t miss the bright blue uniform, though.

The memory of when you first got the job sneaks up on you, unbidden. You can still hear Jaeyun’s excitement, see the way his eyes lit up as if you’d just been appointed CEO of a million pound company. “My beautiful, hardworking girl. I can’t even begin to describe the pride in my heart,” he had gushed, lifting you up effortlessly, spinning you around in his arms before preppering kisses all over your face. That grin of his, so wide and earnest, the sheer adoration in his gaze - it still floods your senses now, making your stomach turn in happiness and grievance. He had even suggested celebratory sex, because of course he would. Any excuse to have you bouncing on his cock.

The thought is cut short when a pair of familiar arms snake around your waist, strong and certain, pulling you back against a firm chest. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. The warmth of his body, the way he fits against you so perfectly - it’s a feeling you know too well.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jaeyun murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck as he places featherlight kisses along the skin. His scent washes over you - citrus with a woody undertone, grounding and intoxicating. You sink into him for just a second before forcing yourself to stand firm. You can’t get lost in him now. Not with just over 48-hours left.

“Miss me?” he teases, his breath warm against your ear.

You sigh, but there’s no real exasperation in it, a playful annoyance almost. “Jaeyun, I’m working.”

Turning in his arms, you meet his gaze, and instantly, regret coils tight in your chest. He looks at you with so much love, so much trust, so much unguarded sincerity that it makes everything you’ve been doing - everything you’ve been hiding - feel like a slow, cruel betrayal.

He doesn’t deserve any of this.

Jaeyun smiles obliviously as he presses a lingering kiss to your lips, then another, and another. Each one is soft and sweet, savouring the simple moment, like he never wants to stop. You can feel his grin against your mouth, the way he breathes you in.

“You get off soon,” he murmurs. “Just bail early.”

His lips trail down your jaw, pressing against the sensitive skin just below your ear. It’s so easy to give in, to let yourself melt into him and forget that you’re meant to be working.

“Baby,” you whine, pouting as you try to focus on stacking the cans on the shelf. “Let me finish.”

Jaeyun’s grip on your waist tightens slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “I can make you finish if you want.”

His voice is low, teasing, sinful. His teeth nip at your earlobe, and you swear you can feel the smirk forming on his lips. Your breath hitches, and Jaeyun chuckles, because he knows. He knows exactly what he does to you. He can hear your heart pounding, can feel the way your body tenses ever so slightly in response to his touch. And in his mind, that’s proof enough that you were made for him.

You shake your head, trying - and failing - to suppress a smile. “I will attend to your every need when my shift is over, but for the next twenty minutes, these cans of butter beans have my full attention.”

He groans dramatically. “Oh…butter beans. I love it when you talk dirty.” He snaps his teeth together, biting the air mischievously. 

You swat at his chest playfully, laughter spilling from your lips before you can stop it. You’ll miss this. God, you’ll miss this. Maybe you should just tell him. Maybe you should change your plans. You could find a job in Busan, surely. Stay here, with him. 

The thought lingers for a moment, dangerous and tempting, but you push it away, tucking it deep into the back of your mind. If you do that, you’ll be reliant on him, causing unnecessary stress and endangering his future. 

Instead, you reach up, wrapping your arms around Jaeyun’s neck, holding him close. “Sim Jaeyun, you are the most infuriating person I have ever met,” you say, shaking your head fondly.

Sunlight filters through the store windows, casting a soft glow on his face. His golden skin practically gleams in the light, his dark eyes glinting with mischief as he beams down at you.

“You love me, though,” he says confidently.

You swallow, your chest tightening. “So much.” 

Too much.

Jaeyun grins like a lovesick puppy, dropping a quick kiss to your lips. “Good. Then hurry up and get this shift out of the way so I can have you all to myself.”

With that, he pecks you one last time before pulling away, leaving the store in a hurry. His movements are eager, excited. He has plans.

And you? You have no idea what’s coming.

___

Jaeyun taps his fingers anxiously against the steering wheel as he dials Heeseung’s number. The call connects after two rings.

“Yes, Jake, for the millionth time, everything is set up,” Heeseung sighs, exasperated but amused at his best friends constant calls for reassurance. “I followed your strict, to-the-point plan exactly as instructed.”

Jaeyun exhales, running a hand through his hair, a bit of relief swirling in his chest despite the nerves still sitting in his stomach. “Thanks, mate. I owe you one. And the r-”

“In the glove compartment. I told you, everything is sorted.”

Jaeyun checks quickly, flipping the compartment open. There it is - a small, neatly wrapped white box, tied with a pink satin ribbon, the edges dusted in silver glitter. He stares at it for a long moment, fear creeping in despite himself.

“She’s gonna love it,” Heeseung reassures him. “You know she loves anything if it has to do with you.”

Jaeyun’s throat tightens slightly, but he smiles. If there was one person who believes in this relationship almost as much as he does, it’s Heeseung. He has been here through everything - every late-night phone call where Jaeyun rambled about how perfect you were, every moment of insecurity, every little update about your favourite songs or perfumes. Jaeyun is obsessed, and Heeseung has certainly suffered the consequences of it.

“Jake, stop overthinking it,” Heeseung laughs. “You guys are meant to be. If this doesn’t work out, then I don’t believe in love.” His best friend isn’t lying either, he has never seen a couple so destined to be with one another, not even his parents who are sickeningly in love.

High school sweethearts come together and fall apart as they grow into new people, the pieces that used to meld with one another growing and shrinking too much to fit together anymore. But you and Jaeyun? Anyone can see - especially Heeseung - that your relationship is not a puzzle but the tree the cardboard is made from, each just developing branches to fill out your love rather than break it. In the winter nights when the leaves fall and darkness looms, you grow ringlets in the trunk of your love, never snapping under the wind.

That’s exactly how Heeseung sees you both. Destined. Molded. Forever.

Jaeyun chuckles, shaking his head. He doesn’t even entertain the possibility of not being with you. Of course, you’re meant to be. That’s not a question. It’s a fact.

A glimpse of you walking out of the store catches his attention. “Shit, she’s coming. Thanks again, mate.”

He shoves the box into the side pocket of the car door just as you open the passenger side, sliding in. You’ve changed into a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but to Jaeyun, you might as well be wearing a Vivienne Westwood dress with the way you look like the most beautiful person on earth.

“Hey,” he greets softly, his voice airy.

“I wish you would’ve told me we were doing something. I would’ve brought nicer clothes to change into,” you pout, suddenly feeling stifled in the simple mum jeans despite their comfort.

Jaeyun scoffs playfully, his eyes flicking toward you as he starts the car. “You say that like Aphrodite herself doesn’t worship the ground you walk on, even in jeans.”

Your stomach flips. He always had a way with words, a gift for making you feel like the most breathtaking thing to ever grace the earth - and to him you are. Beautiful and gorgeous were never enough for him - those words are too ordinary, too overused. Jaeyun needs something grander, something worthy of you. Even when words fail him, he still tries, determined to make you feel as exquisite as he saw you.

Still, you can only roll your eyes, cheeks warm in a rose blush as you buckle your seatbelt. He busies himself with the music, fingers expertly flicking through cassette tapes in the centre console. His car - an ancient black 1998 Honda Civic he bought for pennies from a distant uncle - came equipped with a cassette player instead of an aux, something Jaeyun delighted in. 

It gave him the perfect excuse to make mixtapes, just like in those early 2000s films. He even made one for your Christmas road trip, packed with songs that reminded him of you. Most of them were love songs, but one track - Hotel Room Service by Pitbull to be exact — had snuck in by accident, and he’d never figured out how to remove it. It became your song after that, something that made you both dissolve into laughter whenever it played yet still held sentimental value.

“I think I’ve created the best mixtape of all time,” Jaeyun boasts, wagging a cassette between his fingers before sliding it in. “You’re gonna love it.”

The first song hums through the speakers, the familiar melody of Love is All Around by Wetter filling the car.

Your heart clenches with joy. “My favourite song.”

Jaeyun’s lips curl into a triumphant smile as his hand finds yours, bringing it to his mouth for a soft kiss. “It’s slowly becoming my favourite, too.” His eyes linger on you, and the warmth in them nearly undoes you. “You know, they’re playing a show in Busan this autumn. If you want, I’ll grab us tickets since we’ll be up there anyway.”

Your breath catches. The sickness rising from your stomach, a tight, suffocating thing that robs the colour from your face. He’s already planning for the future, your supposed future where you live happily ever after. 

Tell him. Just tell him.

“Jaeyun, I-”

“I’ll get them next payday,” he cuts in easily, like it’s already decided. “They’ve had tickets available for ages, so I don’t think they’ll sell out in the next couple of weeks.” He squeezes your hand, focused on the road, thumb tracing soft circles into your skin.

You swallow the lump in your throat, force a smile, and thank him. Then, you turn to the window, staring out as the world blurs past. You mentally curse yourself, hating yourself for giving him another nugget of hope. All these tiny threads of future that he’s weaving into your lives are about to be cut loose, and that will only make it harder for him.

Jaeyun isn’t dumb though, he notices the shift in you - the way you clam up, the way your fingers twitch slightly in his grasp - but he doesn’t say anything. Not yet. He knows you well enough to wait. 

The drive takes exactly thirty-two minutes, and for thirty-one of them, Jaeyun holds your hand, squeezing it intermittently. The other minute, he spends drinking water to ease the dryness in his throat, a nervous habit when he’s overthinking. He’s been rehearsing everything in his head, making sure every detail is perfect. You deserve perfection.

When the car finally rolls to a stop, he turns to you, smiling. “We’re here, princess.”

Lost in your mind, you unbuckle your seatbelt, not registering exactly where you are. As he steps out of the car, he swiftly rushes around and opens your door for you. One hand gestures grandly toward the grassy hill before you, the other extended to help you out.

“Right this way.”

You side-eye him as you step out, wary of the incline. “Making me walk after a six-hour shift should be illegal, you know that?”

Jaeyun beams, like he was waiting for you to say that, always predicting your next move. Although, there seems to be one he is oblivious too. “Ah, see, I knew you’d complain about that.” He turns his back to you, kneeling slightly. “That’s why I’m going to carry you.”

Your eyes widen. “You cannot be serious.”

He twists his head to look at you, scandalised. “Does my girlfriend not have faith in her very strong, very capable boyfriend?” He raises a brow, scoffing when he sees the doubt written all over your face. “Trust me. Get on and have some faith in your man, please.”

A genuine laugh escapes you as you see him puff out his chest. He’s impossible sometimes, but still, you oblige, climbing onto his back and wrapping your arms around his shoulders as his hands secure your thighs. He hoists you up with surprising ease, and you gape at him. “Have you been working out, be honest this time?”

Jaeyun grins, flexing one arm dramatically as he starts walking. “Babygirl, I’ve been packing these guns since birth. John Cena is jealous.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder, giggling. “Oh yeah? That so?”

“Mmhm. He looks up reference pictures of me when he’s trying to achieve his goals. A bit of motivation for him.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek as you giggle at his ridiculous notion. “Now, hold on tight. We’re heading to the top.”

“To the top!” you echo, laughing, as he takes the first step up the hill.

Surprisingly, Jaeyun reaches the top without stopping once, and although his breathing is heavier, his grip on you is unwavering. When he finally sets you down, his arms tense, veins pronounced from the strain of holding you up. They stand out boldly beneath his skin, and you can’t help but stare. God, they’re perfect.

It’s the one thing you’ve never been able to get over about your boyfriend. Those forearms have haunted one too many wet dreams of yours - and he knows it. 

At school, he’d make a habit of rolling up his sleeves when you shared a class, his smirk barely concealed as he caught you ogling him. He took pride in it, in the way you practically drooled. Before coming over to yours one night, he’d even spent time flexing, clenching and unclenching his fists to make sure his veins were as defined as possible. His efforts had paid off - the night had ended with you riding his fingers, nails digging into his forearms, desperate to feel them beneath your touch.

“Baby?” Jaeyun’s voice pulls you back to the present. He’s bent forward slightly, head tilted as he waves a hand in front of your face, his grin lopsided. “You in there?”

Blinking, you shake off the haze of memory. “Hmm?”

“I said - ta-da!” 

He hops on the balls of his feet, throwing his arms out as if presenting the grand finale of a magic trick, sort of like the Will Smith meme but less ridgid, more comical despite his obvious nerves.

Your gaze follows the sweep of his hands, and suddenly, your breath catches in your throat, pulse thumping as you get overwhelmed with the sight.

A pair of trees stands before you, their trunks wrapped - no, tangled - in strings of fairy lights, their golden glow casting a soft halo over the picnic laid out beneath them. A bouquet of flowers sits in the centre, spare petals scattered across the blanket like fallen stars. Two woven baskets accompany the arrangement, lids slightly ajar, revealing glimpses of the feast inside. A trail of rose petals leads up to the setup, their deep red hues stark against the grass.

For a moment, you can’t speak. How can you when you’re facing one of the most romantic settings you have ever witnessed.

Jaeyun shifts his weight, rubbing the back of his neck, his usual confidence wavering at your silence. “I know it’s cheesy and cliché,” he says with an axnious chuckle, “but I remember you reading about this in one of your books and saying you loved the idea of a midnight picnic.” He exhales through his nose, sheepish. “I know it’s not midnight, but-”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, your lips press against his, cutting off his rambling explanation, hoping that even a slither of your gratitude can be passed through the movement of your lips. Jaeyun exhales into the kiss, tension melting from his shoulders as his hands settle on your side. His relief is palpable. You like it. That’s all that matters.

When you finally pull away, he’s grinning, fingers lacing through yours. “Come on,” he murmurs, guiding you forward.

The rose petals crunch softly beneath your feet, but you barely notice. Your eyes remain fixed on him - on the way his dark hair falls slightly over his forehead, shorter than when you first met; on the way his side-parted bangs frame his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw. He’s grown into himself over the years, but he’s still your Jaeyun. Still the boy who whispers puppy love nothings in your ear any chance he gets. Still the boy who looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

He’s yours.

At least for now.

“I got you all your favourites,” Jaeyun continues, oblivious to the turmoil brewing in your chest. “Kimchi pancakes, tteokbokki, some chicken and spinach samosas-”

His voice fades into the background. Your heart is so full - but a filled heart means there is more to break. And yours is just about being demolished.

“I love you, Jaeyun.” The words escape before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered. It’s the only thing you can say at the moment, scared that if you attempt another word you’ll blubber.

Jaeyun has heard you say it a thousand times before, but something about this time feels different. The weight behind it is heavier, more deliberate. So beautifully raw but…sad.

His body stills for half a second before his hands slide to your hips, grounding you in place. His gaze flickers over your face, searching, but he doesn’t question it. Instead, he lets out a soft breath, voice steady.

“I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much.”

His heart swells, so big he thinks it might rupture.

It’s incredible how two people can have a heart so full yet while his structure is solid, determined, yours is being chipped away at with each passing second of the ticking clock. This will end soon, and you can’t tell who will have a harder time building back the pieces. 

The kiss he gives you next has tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. It’s slow but filled with a confession of its own. He kisses you like he’s memorising the way you taste, like he’s trying to etch this moment into his bones. It’s amatory yet pure, a love so deep it defies any logical explanation. It’s not something that can be theorised or dissected.

It’s yours. It’s his.

And in two days, you’re giving it up.

Jaeyun pulls you down onto the blanket, settling beside you as he begins unpacking the baskets. The scent of the food fills the air, and your stomach rumbles in response. Everything looks perfect.

Jaeyun watches the way your eyes light up at the sight of the spread, and he makes a mental note to thank Jay when he sees him next. “Here, take a bite, baby girl.” He lifts a piece of tteokbokki with his chopsticks, holding it out for you.

You oblige, opening wide and letting the flavours burst on your tongue. 

And that’s when you know he didn’t make this.

Jaeyun can barely cook a frozen lasagne without setting off the fire alarm, let alone pull off a meal like this.

Suddenly, laughter bubbles up from your chest, causing Jaeyun to cock his head in wonder. “What’s so funny?”

You wave a hand dismissively, memories flashing through your mind - It had been your 100-day anniversary, and he’d wanted to cook for you. It ended with Jaeyun, flailing a green and yellow dish towel under the fire alarm, a burnt pizza in the oven, and his dad standing nearby, arms crossed, delivering a very long-winded lecture on the importance of life skills. 

“It’s nothing,” you say, grinning. “I’m just happy.”

Jaeyun beams at that, your happiness of the upmost importance to him.

The rest of the evening unfolds in golden hues and easy laughter. The fairy lights flicker softly, casting a glow over everything, making the moment feel almost unreal. You pretend, just for a little while, that nothing is wrong. That there’s no expiration date on this love.

But while you’re pushing down your anxiety, Jaeyun’s is flared with each moment ticking by. He has been waiting for this moment for a long time.

As the last remnants of food disappear, his heartbeat grows louder, pounding against his ribs. He grips the edge of the blanket, trying to steady himself.

“Um, Y/N?” His voice is hesitant, uncertain. You immediately set down your plate, your full attention on him as you begin to notice the tiny shake in his hands.

“Yeah?”

Sweat beads along his forehead. He swallows thickly, his fingers flexing against the fabric beneath him.

Your stomach knots instantly at his apprehensive stature. Does he know? Is he about to tell you that he’s known your plan all along? That he’s doing all of this to convince you to stay? Is he giving up everything for you?

Or…is it simply too warm this evening?

“Hoo, okay, so-” Jaeyun exhales sharply, shifting his entire body to face you. His hands tremble as they clasp yours; they’re smaller, delicate in comparison, yet still manage to steady him in a way nothing else can. “I love you so much,” he begins, then falters, sucking in a breath. “And, uh, okay, um-”

He had rehearsed this moment a hundred times. Sat on Heeseung’s bedroom floor, the elder pretending to be you - going as far as threatening to put on a wig and eyeliner for authenticity and immersion.Heeseung takes his roles very seriously.

“I need to get into character!” Heeseung had proclaimed dramatically, sending Jaeyun into a fit of laughter, the boys barely making it through one runthrough.

Now, though, standing before you, his mind is blank. The words he’d carefully strung together dissolve the second he looks at you - obviously this was much easier with Heeseung and a bad lipstick job. 

No you are much more intimidating. The golden hour sun kisses your skin, turning you ethereal, unreal. He has no choice but to take another deep breath, shaking off the nerves, or attempting to at least..

“I love you,” he tries again, steadier this time. “I have ever since that first day at school.” His gaze drops to the sun necklace resting between you collarbones - the one he bought you for your birthday - before flicking back to your eyes. “You took the breath from my lungs, and honestly? Every time I look at you, I still forget how to breathe.”

A wry smile tugs at his lips as he continues.

“I don’t know if soulmates are real, or twin flames, or matches made in heaven…but, baby, you’re all of them to me, I know it. I curse the stars every night because people admire them for being beautiful, when you are the brightest thing in the universe. You’re my sun, my moon, all my stars.”

He inhales shakily, as if steadying himself, his hands running so cold that he feels pins and needles starting to tingle the tips of his fingers.

“You deserve all the admiration they get. And if I can spend the rest of my life looking at you, studying you, loving you like some devoted astronomer -  then I’ll know I’ve lived my life well.”

A beat. Two hearts, thundering against ribcages. The love between you, palpable, enough to heal nations - enough to ruin you.

Jaeyun reaches into his pocket, retrieving a small box. His fingers shake violently as he hands it to you. “I want you to know,” he murmurs, voice nearly cracking with emotion, “I’m so serious about us, Y/N.”

The weight of the box settles into your palm, and suddenly it feels like the entire world is sitting there, waiting to be opened. His words mixed with the unexpected gift saw at your heart, guilt overwhelming your bloodstream.

“Open it,” he huffs, exhaling like he’s spent months holding his breath.

You peel away the soft pink ribbon, lifting the lid to reveal two delicate silver rings rest side by side. Small, simple bands with a single heart at the centre - nothing extravagant, yet everything that matters. Beside them, two identical silver keys.

Jaeyun shifts, scooting closer, his fingers brushing against yours as he lifts one of the rings.

“Before you freak out—I’m not proposing,” he chuckles weakly, though his laugh barely makes it past his lips. His thumb smooths over the band as he stares at it, his mind lost somewhere between the past and the future.

“This is my promise to you,” he continues, voice quieter now. “That from now until forever, I am yours.”

He lifts your left hand, taking your pinky between his fingers before slowly, deliberately, sliding the ring on. “A pinky ring,” he murmurs gently, “until I can get you a real wedding ring.”

The tears welling in your eyes spill over, laughter bubbling from your lips despite yourself. You recognise the lyrics embedded in his words, his love language tucked between the sentiment. The ring fits perfectly. Of course, it does.

You don’t even have to ask to know - he saved up for these. Every penny from his part-time job, every late-night shift worked with you in mind. They are not designer rings. They are not diamond-encrusted. But they are everything. Because they are his. Because they are yours. And his devotion to you is priceless.

Jaeyun hesitates for a moment before picking up one of the keys, rolling it between his fingers. “This,” he says, his voice a tiny bit more confident now that you’re wearing the ring, “is the key to our flat in Busan.”

Your breath stutters.

“I know we should be living in dorms,” he continues, his eyes flickering between the key and your face, gauging your reaction. “But I struck a really good deal with the landlady—she’s sweet, she likes me. And I just-”  His voice dips as the truth sits on the edge of his tongue, being pushed forward by raw emotion. “I don’t think I could go a day in this life without seeing you. And if we live together, I won’t have to.”

He places the key in your open palm, his own curling over yours, holding it there with promise.

The tears streaking down your cheeks, once born of joy, are suddenly unbearable with sorrow.

He doesn’t know you’re leaving.

You have told yourself it’s for the best. That leaving now, cutting ties cleanly, would hurt less than watching him drift away piece by piece. That letting him go would save you both.

But staring at the key, at the boy in front of you…your resolve crumbles and your heart splinters.

Jaeyun shifts, sensing your hesitation. Panic flickers in his eyes. “Baby, if this is too fast, we can-”

You don’t let him finish.

Your lips crash against his, swallowing whatever reassurance he was about to offer. You don’t know what to do. You feel remorseful and devastated but his hopeful smile and readily beating heart are calling out to you to just melt into the moment. Even if it’s selfish, even if it’s cruel to lead him on like this, your heart yearns for him.

His breath stutters, but he melts into you instantly, fingers threading through your hair, each strand wrapping around his fingers like an anchoring rope. Your hands slide over his shoulders, gripping, grounding. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, familiar and safe.

Jaeyun doesn’t need words. This - your touch, your kiss, your hands clutching him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this world - this is enough to know you feel the same way he does.

But while his heart and mind are at ease, his body needs more.

Jaeyun scoops you up in one swift motion, carrying you down the hill and to his car, leaving the evidence of your love behind in the branches. He wonder if Heeseung’s help extends to a clean-up job.

“I need to make love to you so bad,” he grumbles, his voice thick with longing as his lips smooch at yours messily. “But not in this car.”

____ 

The drive to his house is a blur of desperate touches, your fingers trailing over his wrist, his palm resting on your thigh. He speeds recklessly, tunnel-visioned, the pinky ring on your hand glinting in the dim light.

You are his. He is yours.

By the time he parks, Jaeyun is already reaching for you, his hands making way to your hips as he all but pushes you up the stairs. The second the bedroom door shuts behind you, he’s pressing you against it, his lips urgent, messy, needing.

“Princess,” he groans when your hand presses against his growing arousal. “You’re dangerous.”

You laugh - genuinely, fully. The last real laugh you’ll have for a long time.

Jaeyun doesn’t notice. He’s too focused on yanking his T-shirt over his head, the fabric slipping off in a single, fluid motion. His bare chest is in front of you now, the fading hickeys from last week still scattered over his skin.

He doesn’t waste another second.

Bending slightly, he grips your thighs, lifting you with ease. His lips find your jaw, your cheeks, your temple - whispering against your skin in a voice filled with reverence. “So beautiful. All mine.” 

Your heart aches. You wish you could tell him. But instead, you let him love you for one of the last times.

Jaeyun groans against your skin, his breath warm as he presses you onto the bed, his chest never leaving yours. His hands explore your body with deliberate intent, fingertips mapping out every inch of your exposed skin as though memorising it. A soft hum vibrates through him, an unspoken appreciation of the heat radiating from your body.

“I know, Princess,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting along your jaw, his voice thick with amusement. “But you’re gonna be a good girl and wait for me, yeah?” The smirk laced in his words only makes you ache more. 

You whimper, desperation evident in the way your body arches toward him, and he chuckles, his voice husky with satisfaction. With deft hands, he unbuttons your jeans, dragging both them and your underwear down in one fluid motion, leaving you bare beneath him.

His dark eyes devour the sight of you, hunger etched all over his features as his fingers trace feather-light patterns over your skin. “All mine,” he whispers, the words more reverent than possessive, a quiet declaration of something deeper than lust. His lips follow the path of his fingertips, pressing slow, lingering kisses up your inner thigh, his pace torturously unhurried. He thinks he has all the time in the world.

You’re drenched, your body trembling with need. He exhales sharply with an undercurrent of amusement peaking through. His fingers ghost over your slick folds, spreading them open for a better look. “So wet, baby. I don’t even think you need me to prep you.” The teasing lilt in his voice makes you whimper, and the featherlight press of his lips against your clit sends a jolt through your body.

“No, Yunie, please.” The nickname slips from your lips in your desperation, your voice breathless, utterly undone. You love his cock and the need to get fucked is actually unbearable, but honestly, you love how he plays with you. His laughter is warm against your skin, the vibration making your toes curl. He’s so close but so out of reach that it’s almost painful.

His hand tightens on your thigh, spreading you wider for him as he trails deliberate kisses across your core. The heat of his tongue dragging over you makes your breath stutter, and your hands fly to his hair, fingers weaving through the soft strands, tugging, pulling him closer. He groans at the sensation, the sound sending a fresh pulse of arousal through you.

“Tell me what you need, Y/N,” he coaxes, his voice low, husky, vibrating against you as his tongue continues its agonisingly slow exploration, like a tourist with weeks left of their holiday.

“F-fingers,” you gasp, shame abandoned in favour of pure desire. “I want your fingers.”

He hums in mock contemplation, dragging the pads of his fingers along your entrance. “These fingers?” The playful edge to his voice is maddening but before you can protest, he pushes two fingers inside you, slow but insistent. Your mouth falls open, head tilting back as pleasure washes over you. He watches you intently, his gaze dark and fixed on the way your body reacts to him.

Watching you wriggle and writhe gets him hard, his cock swelling with lust and pride. You’re so responsive to his touches that it’s addicting, it makes him want to just play with your pretty pussy forever. And honestly? If his cock wasn’t so greedy, he would.

As his fingers curl, finding that perfect spot, a shudder wracks through you. You grip his sheets as you arch, simultaneously trying to escape while seeking more. Your body erupts with excitement as it feels Jaeyun’s lips back on your cunt, making out with it gently, working in tandem with his fingers to coax an orgasm from you.

“You taste amazing, baby,” he compliments sincerely, lapping you up like a thirsty pup. “So fucking sweet.”

You’ve never believed him when he says that, but the way he groans into your pussy and slurps at you like you’re the last remnants of a Capri Sun, you’re inclined to believe him. You boyfriend worships you, adores everything about you and that includes your pretty slick.

Jaeyun’s biggest fear is drowning but if he was to be sucked under into an ocean of your essence, he will happily let his lungs fill with liquid. 

Groaning, Jaeyun huffs into your pussy, his fingers curling as if he’s calling you forward - or rather, you orgasm. The tip of his fingers scrape along the soft part of your walls and you squeal out, trying to run away, the sensation too much to handle.

“Shhh, baby,” he soothes, kissing softly to your clit, a tender gesture compared to the grip one of his hands has on you to keep you in place. “Was it too much?”

He peers up at you through his lashes and sees you nodding desperately, chest heaving and eyes rolling in a daze. He has you exactly where he wants you; on the brink. He just needs to push your buttons once more to get you soaking his features with your juices.

Picking up his pace, he laughs into your folds as he jackhammers it home and you thighs instantly clamp him into place. He’s in heaven. This is what being a saint gets people - not an eternity in paradise but the opportunity to suffocate between their lover’s legs.

“Gonna cum for me already, Princess? So soon?” His muffled voice drips with satisfaction, but he doesn’t relent. He adds another finger, stretching you in the most delicious way, his tongue flicking against your clit in perfect synchronisation with his thrusts.

Your walls tighten, your body teetering on the precipice. “Let go, angel,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. That’s all it takes - his fingers thrusting, his tongue teasing, the sheer dominance in his voice. Your orgasm crashes over you, a broken cry of his name spilling from your lips as pleasure floods through you.

He doesn’t stop until your body begins to tremble with overstimulation, his movements slowing, easing you through the aftershocks. You’re lost in the labyrinth of euphoria and you need him to help you out, to guide you back to reality as he gently pulls out his fingers. His mouth still showers your core with gentle kisses, though. 

He’s not so cruel to rip everything away from you just yet.

After a few moments of panting and gasping for oxygen, you push yourself up on your elbows, eyes locking onto him. His lips glisten with you, his expression dark and unreadable, pride evident in the way he studies you. The image sears itself into your memory, something to cling to when he’s not by your side.

“You’re so fucking hot when you cum like that,” he murmurs, kissing his way up your body, each press of his lips softer than the last. “Like I’m the only one who can do that to you.”

You let out a breathy laugh, fingers threading through his hair, pushing the damp strands from his face. “Jaeyun, you are the only one I’ve ever had sex with so yes, you are the only one who can do that to me.”

He chuckles, his forehead pressing to your stomach, but his next words make your heart clench. “And I’ll always be the only one. You’re mine forever, Y/N.”

The heaviness of his words sits uncomfortably on your chest. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what’s coming.

Before he can notice the shift in your expression, you push it down, forcing a sultry smirk. “Then fuck me. Show me exactly what you can do.”

His pupils darken and expand, melting into unrestrained desire. He reaches for the drawer, retrieving an ultra-thin condom, slipping it on with impatient ease. He won’t lie, he’s desperate to be engulfed by you, so in a flash, the head of his cock drags along your folds before pressing against your entrance, teasing. A sharp gasp escapes your lips at the sensation, need pooling low in your stomach.

“Say please, and I’ll think about it,” he taunts you, his voice smug, but you know he’s just as needy -  if not more.

“Please,” you whisper, “Please fuck me, Jaeyun.” The plea is barely past your lips before he captures them in a searing kiss, pushing into you with a deep, slow stroke, his hips rolling beautifully flush against you.

A ragged breath leaves him as he bottoms out, your walls squeezing around him in a way that makes his jaw slacken and eyes scrunch shut. His pace is slow at first, allowing you to adjust to him for at least a few minutes before restraint gives way to need. His thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, and his left hand finds yours, fingers intertwining, a silent tether that brings you even closer together.

His lips brush against your pinky, a soft kiss against the silver ring he gave you, a promise to always be yours embedded in the gesture. And before you know it, it’s all too much and you begin to cry feel the tears before you realise you’re crying. 

All your emotions come out at once due to his sweet actions because suddenly it’s too hard to bottle everything up. The love, the fear, the disappointment, the guilt, the anguish. It’s all flooding from your eyes as your heart bursts with ache.

Jaeyun notices how your chest begins to vibrate, and not in the gasping for air because he’s fucking you so good kind of way. No. It’s shaking through sobs and he immediately pauses his ministrations.

“Hey,” he kisses your tears, his voice laced with concern. “Princess, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat as you try and rid yourself of the abundance of emotion. “No, baby,” your voice wobbles, raw and filled with everything you can’t say. “I just love you so much, that’s all.”

Jaeyun has his doubts for a second, your eyes glinting in sadness - it’s so fast he almost doesn’t catch it. But concern is washed away as you lean up to kiss him, soft and gentle. The love in your lips conveying enough to put his mind at ease. 

Drawing back and brushing the tears from your cheeks, Jaeyun smiles down at you. “You had me worried, sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I love you too. Till my last dying breath, okay?”

Your heart twists painfully, but his slow thrusts pull you back to the moment, grounding you in the way he moves, in the way he makes you feel.

And right now, that’s all that matters.

He groans against your ear, his pace growing rougher, more desperate now that he knows your okay. The heat between you is overwhelming, bodies moving in sync, chasing that inevitable bliss. His hand slips between you, fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing tight, pressuered circles.

“You’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” His voice is thick, strained with pleasure. “I can feel it. Let me have it, baby.”

The pressure builds, overwhelming, the pleasure winding so tightly it feels like you might snap apart. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, his thrusts driving deeper, hitting all the right places. And then it happens again - the coil within you shatters, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your entire body trembling beneath him.

He groans loudly as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, your release pulling him over the edge with you. His thrusts turning erratic as his control frays and he follows you into bliss. His body stills, buried deep inside you, his breath coming in ragged pants against you, spilling into the condom.

For a moment, neither of you move, caught in the haze of each other. Then, with a shaky laugh, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips. “Perfect,” he murmurs, still breathless. “You’re perfect.”

You curl into him, letting the warmth of his body envelop you, not one of you bothering to part just yet - enjoying the intimacy of just being connected to one another like this.

If only you could stay like this forever.

________

The morning sun spills through Jaeyun’s window, casting a dawning glow over the room. Your boyfriend’s body is draped over yours, the warmth of his bare skin pressed against you like a safety you know you can no longer allow yourself to have. His breath is slow and steady, the rise and fall of his chest soothing as he sleeps peacefully, a contrast to how you are feeling right now. 

The silver ring on his pinky glints in the sunlight, catching your eye like a cruel reminder of what you are about to do. Why the fuck didn’t you tell him last night?

You now have one more day with him - one more chance to hold onto this love - but after last night, you know you can’t risk another second in his presence.

Every inch of you screams that this is a mistake. If you love him this much, surely you can make long distance work. But it’s just not that simple. You’ve already made your choice, and now you have to live with it. 

Jaeyun will be fine. Busan is full of beautiful girls - girls who are interesting, spectacular, and everything he will need in a partner. He won’t need you anymore. He will find someone else, someone who won’t run. 

Deep down, you know this will hurt him, but he’s strong. He’ll get over it.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slip out from under his arm as gently as possible, heart clenching in panic when he stirs - luckily for you doesn’t wake up. You keep your movements careful, as if the universe might give you more time if you just move slowly enough. Every glance at him - his tousled hair, his puffy lips that you love to kiss so much parted slightly in sleep - makes it harder to breathe. 

You are so stupid for this. Leaving him because you are terrified of losing him later on. It’s ridiculous and you’re being selfish.

I can’t do long distance. His voice echoes in your brain, pushing down your apprehensions regarding your next decision.

Your fingers tremble as you slide the ring off your pinky. Despite only having it for a few hours, it feels wrong that it’s gone. You hesitate, just for a second, before placing it on his dresser. The thought of leaving a note crosses your mind, but as Jaeyun shifts in his sleep, you realise there’s no time. You need to go before you lose your last bit of resolve.

Placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, you hold back tears. He looks so innocent and unaware…you can’t imagine what he’ll be like once he wakes up. You can’t be here for that. 

So you get dressed quickly, shuffling down his stairs and out the front door. You’re met with the sharp bite of the morning air. The sun is dulling and the wind carries an unforgiving chill that cuts through you. You already know it’s going to pour later. As if the universe is mourning your decision before you can.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, hands still shaking, scared that he’s noticed already. But surprisingly, it’s from Avanti.

Dear Y/N L/N,

Mail: From: Avanti College

RE: Housing Enquiry.

I am responding to your inquiry regarding accommodation. The room is available as of today, however, there is no concierge available to give you your keys as there has been a slight altercation in housing arrangements. Your assigned roommate has been made aware of your occupancy and will let you in once you arrive. Your key should be ready for you next week. Sorry about the miscommunication as I know you are eager to get settled.

Kind Regards,Cho Min WooHead of Accommodation and Living.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. It’s done. You have somewhere to go. No turning back now. 

You start running. You need to grab your bag, book the bus, and go before your heart betrays you. No hesitation. No overthinking. Just leave.

Thankfully, you had packed days ago, anticipating that you might need to flee at a moment’s notice, feelings overwhelming causing you to overthink and overpack. But you can’t just disappear. If you vanish without a trace, your parents will panic, call the cops or do something drastic. But if you tell them where you’re going, they will for sure tell Jaeyun your whereabouts. The last thing you need is him chasing after you, sacrificing everything to run to you.

Once you’re home, you grab a notepad and scribble a rushed message to your parents. You don’t explain, don’t justify. Just the bare minimum: you need a fresh start in a new city. You need space, everything too overwhelming. It’s not much, but it’s enough for them to know you’ll be safe.

You sign your name with a shaking hand, placing hugs and kisses as if that will ease the blow.

This is it. No more seeing your room. No more home-cooked meals. No more Jaeyun.

You’ve fucked up so badly, but you have to see this through. You made your bed, now it’s time to lie in it.

___

The bus jam packed. You were lucky to get one of the last two seats on the coach bound for Pyeongchang. The hum of conversation surrounds you but you don’t earwig on any of it. Your hands won’t stop shaking as you stare at your phone, scrolling through the endless missed calls and messages.

Incoming Call: my love <3

You watch it ring until it stops. Then you scroll through the notifications.

Missed Call (67) my love <3Missed Call (34) dadMissed Call (23) mum

Your chest tightens as you finally open Jaeyun’s messages.

The messages go on and on, each one more desperate than the last. Your vision blurs with tears as you scroll down. The latest ones, sent only minutes ago, send a shiver down your spine.

07:30am princess, where are you?

07:30am are you coming back to bed? xx

07:49am Y/N, i’m getting worried.

07:52am pick up your phone, baby. please talk to me.

07:52am if i pushed you too far yesterday, i’m sorry…

08:16am why are your parents saying you’ve left?

08:16am baby, don’t do this.

08:17 m what does your letter mean? ‘I need a fresh start from everyone and everything’??

08:17am you aren’t leaving, right? you’re not leaving me, are you?

08:23am please, please, please.

10:32 am i ill search every part of this country until i find you.10:32 am you can’t expect me to just forget about you. 

10:35 am: will you please answer your fucking phone!10:47 am Y/N…i can’t make you answer me, or love me, but please just know i love you and i’m sorry for whatever i did. i’m leaving for Busan in two weeks so you should come home then. you won’t hear from me again but don’t leave your parents like this, baby. they can’t lose you.10:48 am I can’t lose you either to be honest but if it’s what you want…I’ll go.

Another message appears just as the tears spill over onto your cheeks.

10:51 am i love you so fucking much, Y/N. i won’t ever stop. my heart is yours, always. until the sun stops burning.

A sob rips from your throat, loud and raw. The sound fills the bus, drawing the attention of every passenger. You slap a hand over your mouth, bowing in silent apology as the embarrassment burns hot in your chest. Then, without another thought, you block his number.

You will get a new phone when you reach Pyeongchang. A fresh start. No more attachments. No more looking back.

But as the bus pulls away from the station, leaving your past behind, you press your forehead against the window and let the tears fall.

Jaeyun will be fine.

Eventually, he will be fine.

You just have to keep telling yourself that.

_______

Jaeyun’s heart has not stopped breaking since you’ve left, the pieces crumbling in a silence so loud it nearly suffocates him. He believed, with every fibre of his being, that the future you painted together was real - that your love is something solid, something unbreakable. To learn that you have already planned a life without him, that you are gone without a word, tears through him like a blade. 

It fucking hurts - not just in his chest, but deep, right down to his bones. He can’t find the strength to confront it, can’t make sense of what’s happening. 

Had he misunderstood? Had he pushed you into a life you didn’t want? Had his love, his promises, meant nothing to you? He can’t reconcile the girl he has spent so many nights dreaming of a future with, the girl who smiled at him through late-night talks about forever, with the one who has left him behind without a trace.

When he pulls into the driveway of his home after spending hours searching for you, he sees Heeseung’s car is there, an unwelcome reminder that the world has unfortunately keeps moving while his has shattered. He doesn’t have the energy to face his friend, not now, not when every thought in his head is tangled up in confusion and heartbreak. 

He loves Heeseung, of course he does, but right now, he needs to be alone. He needs to think and process, try and make sense of the wreckage of the morning. But he trudges up the stairs regardless, ignoring his parents’ concerned questions, ‘Where have you been?’, ‘Are you okay?’. He doesn’t know anything other than the fact that he has a hole in his chest.

Pushing his bedroom door open, Heeseung’s voice meets him with a bitter cheerfulness - clear he hasn’t noticed the way Jaeyun’s eyes are still swollen from the tears. “Jake, my man! How did it go? You went radio silent last night, so I’m assuming that means things went well,” Heeseung wiggles his brows as he waits for the fairytale update from his best friend.

But that’s the last thing he’ll receive today. The fairytale quickly turned into a Brothers Grimm nightmare.

Jaeyun’s gaze is fixed on the floor, his head hung low to hide the evidence of his heartache - not that it does much good. His throat is tight, his words caught behind a wall of emotion he can’t seem to break through. This makes Heeseung perk to attention, finally seeing the distress.

“Jake?” Heeseung’s voice softens, concern lining it now. “You okay?”

Jaeyun can’t answer, his eyes fixated on the silver ring. The one that belongs to you. The one meant to seal your futures together. It sits on his bedside table taunting and bitter. A new wave of sadness floods him and he tilts his head back in an attempt to stifle the tears, but they come anyway, hot and relentless. 

The sight of it is too much and Jaeyun’s remaining composure cracks. The sobs are impossible to control now, and Heeseung, without hesitation, pulls him into a tight embrace, squeezing him tightly. He holds him as if he could absorb some of the hurt, but nothing will ease this ache.

“She…left,” Jaeyun manages to choke out, the words hardly forming in his mouth before the tears take over.

Heeseung freezes, a stunned silence hanging between them. His hands grip Jaeyun’s shoulders, pulling him back to look at him with disbelief. “What do you mean, she left?”

Jaeyun’s voice breaks, his chest heaving with each ragged, uncontrollable sobs. “She left everything. Me, us...her family…she left it all behind.”

The words seem to cut deeper than the pain itself. Heeseung’s face twists in confusion, his jaw tightening. This is not like you. You wouldn’t go anywhere without Jaeyun let alone leave him without even so much as a goodbye. She’s been kidnapped is Heeseung’s first thought but thats ludicrous. This isn’t a Liam Neeson film.

“Let me call her,” he offers, reaching for his phone, though he knows it’s futile.

“No use,” Jaeyun replies, his voice hollow, devoid of any emotion other than pure agony. “She won’t answer. It’s gone straight to voicemail. Not even her mum can reach her.”

With shaky hands, Jaeyun pulls the note you wrote for your parents from his jeans pocket, handing it to Heeseung in silence. As his friend reads it, Jaeyun turns towards the ring on the table, staring at it as though it were a foreign object. His fingers tremble as he picks it up, turning it over and over in his hands. Every promise he made to you - each word, each moment spent dreaming of a shared future - feels like a cruel joke now. 

The ring should have been reassurance. Hadn’t it been? 

Why would you fucking leave?

Heeseung’s voice breaks through his thoughts, sharp and angry. “What the fuck?” The elder is pacing now, holding the letter like it’s something foul. “What the fuck is she thinking?”

His quetsion is met with a shrug from the heartbroken boy.

“So she didn’t accept the ring and decided to just fuck off?”

Jaeyun shakes his head, the tears flowing freely now, blurring his vision. “She accepted it. Last night was perfect. It was this morning that she left.” He meets Heeseung’s gaze, a tear slipping down his cheek. “What did I do wrong, Hee?”

Nothing. Heeseung knows he did absolutely nothing wrong. He can see the pain in Jaeyun’s eyes, he can feel the weight of his friend’s heartache pressing in on him. It’s suffocating and clinging to every fibre of the room.

With a frustrated sigh, Heeseung pulls Jaeyun into another hug, holding him tighter this time, trying to ground him. Jaeyun has always been the one with the softer heart, and right now, that heart is breaking in a way that even Heeseung can’t fix.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Jake. I don’t get what’s going on in her head, but you didn’t mess up. She’s just-”

But Jaeyun pushes back, his voice low and protective as he cuts his best friend off from saying something he’ll regret. “Don’t. Don’t talk about her like that. You don’t know her. She wouldn’t do this without a reason.”

“And what? She couldn’t tell you what the reason was and instead pussied out and left?” Heeseung is seeing red. “She should have told you she was leaving last night before she got your hopes up and accepted that ring, no? That’s fucked up.” 

Jaeyun knows somewhere in his heart that Heeseung is right, but his love for you is still as strong as ever and his instincts kick in to defend you. He pushes Heeseung away, his voice dangerously quiet. “Fuck you. You don’t get to speak about her like that. I might not understand it now, but I don’t doubt in my mind she did it for a reason she thought was valid. She wouldn’t have told me last night to protect my feelings.” 

Heeseung’s eyes flare with frustration, and for a moment, it seems like he might say something else. But instead, he scoffs, his words bitter. “Yeah? Well, how does it feel now? Do your feelings feel protected?” Silence. The whole house is still as he scoffs and sticks his tongue in his cheek, landing the final blow. “Think about that and tell me she did this out of love for you.” 

Jaeyun stands in stunned silence as Heeseung storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Jaeyun’s fists clench at his sides. How can Heeseung speak like that, when he doesn’t know the real reason behind your departure? Jaeyun is furious, but there’s something else - something even more painful. He’s envious of Heeseung’s anger. He wishes he could just let it all out like that, wishes he could scream and rage, but instead, he just lets the pain sit, lets it fester. He needs a few more days of this hurt, of this confusion, before he can face what’s coming.

And what’s coming…is a life without you in it.

taglist: @yzzyhee @dollyyun @sunpov @dreamy-carat

@ioveseong @katarinamae @viagumi @jakeswifez

@shuichi-sama @m1kkso @no1likeneo @pshfan0812

@fancypeacepersona @hoonieyun @jaepen @lovingvoidgoatee

@parksunghoonsgf @capri-cuntz @yvnempire @mei3425

@enhastolemyheart @ikeulove @riribelle @nshmrarki

@firstclassjaylee @ikeuwoniee @ang0308 @jaykesgirl @addictedtohobi

@jayeoniee @jakessrealwife @zyvlxqht

[stinkydod]

A little more pics, cause there's only a couple days left until my comic 🐬 

Here are some parts of the special art that will be in the 2-nd paid chapter (DON'T WORRY. It's only $1, and it will be free on July 2)

Thank you all for waiting! I’m REALLY WORK HARD!!!

[beabadoobiefanatic]

I Want You (She's So Heavy) ✥ Remmick

Chapter 3 ✥ Lil' Friend

Other Chapters: ✥1 ✥2✥3

-ˋˏ ༻🎕°⋆༺. ✥ .༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ-

.༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ-chapter summary: In which Remmick meets the family. Or well, *a* family member. .༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ- chapter warnings: mentions of the Klu-Klux-Klan (again)

.༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ- story summary: The Smiths have long borne sons and daughters of hunters for centuries, tracking and eradicating the cryptids that ran through the Mississippi Delta like blood roots; thus, it would only be assumed that [F/N] Smith should take the legacy on as well. However, her passion for music-- her gift and inclination of it ran within her, deeper than any blood and any 'fate', and so she took her bearings up to Chicago, indulging in the sin of the nightlife. But no matter how far she ran, Remmick couldn't get her songs out of her head-- he couldn't ignore a chance to once again be reunited with his own people, a chance only granted through the turning of a Smith girl. And thus, he sought out to take [F/N] as his little pawn, his little tool, and his little wife.

.༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ- major warning(s): explicit sexual content, mention of the Klu-Klux-Klan, graphic depictions of violence and gore, blood, blood consumption, minor religious imagery and symbolism, gaslighting, manipulation, rough sex, verbal degradation, very minor amounts of period-typical racism

.༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ-tags: black! female! reader, F/M pairing, usage of [F/N] [L/N] instead of Y/N, crossposted on Archive of Our Own (AO3), erotica, vampires, southern gothic, angst, comedy, slow burn, forced marriage, strangers to lovers, roommates, (eventual) mutual pining, enemies to lovers, love/hate, awkward tension, Remmick is a cannon mix of offputting and charismatic, miscommunication, pre-canon, alternate universe - canon divergence, hurt/comfort, mental instability, vampire slayers, soul bond, sexual fantasy, rough sex, hate sex, cunnilinguis, irish language

chapter wc: 6,034

fic wc: 13,908

chapters: 3/ ?

publish date: 5/7/25 story last updated: 5/21/25

-ˋˏ ༻🎕°⋆༺. ✥ .༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ-

The stars twinkled in a way they never did back home in Mississippi. The moon was high and cast a beautiful, bright blue light that illuminated [F/N]’s face, head resting on the window as she bore a disgusted expression. 

She watched as Remmick fumbled with their luggage again, still steaming from the night before. She wasn’t one to shy away from the fact that she was upset either; she’d sassed and tugged away from him all while he’d undone her binds, taken forever in the (unfortunately windowless) bathroom. However, all her disobedience and attitude were eclipsed by caution when they finally came down the stairs, bearing luggage for the car. 

The group of while folk from the night before had been sitting in the lobby with their stained button-ups and patchwork slacks, and yet they stared at both Remmick and [F/N] with a sense of superiority. They held up their newspapers and smoked their cigarettes in the motel’s little couch area, showing off their shotguns that were laid up against the armchairs and the coffee table. They muttered amongst themselves when the two of them had been making trips out to the car, repeatedly spitting on the carpet and making snarl-lipped comments to each other that revealed their crooked, yellow teeth.

“Pretty lil’ nigra, ain’t she?” A word which they’d invented, and yet they could barely pronounce it correctly. Fucking hicks. 

But it was the oldest of the motley crew that was almost seething with hate, nd yet, he was the most reserved. The rest of his compatriots hooted and hollered enough for the motel staff to repeatedly tell them to ‘shut that shit up or get the hell out’, to which they mocked even louder.

 

The oldest, however, just sat in his armchair in a manspread, hands on his knees and leaning forward with a mean look on his face. What made him look even crazier was the fact that there was no hair on top of his head– instead, it was all scooped to the back in a long, white ponytail. 

He looked pink and sweaty, and slightly chubbier. Every part of his body, except the top of his head and the area in which facial hair would grow was covered in hair. He looked like a piece of  bubblegum dropped on the barbershop floor. 

And guess who he’d been eyeing so hatefully? 

Not [F/N], but Remmick.

She could tell that he was bothered, even if she couldn’t exactly tell why. She knew he didn’t endorse nor tolerate the Klan, but this specific man… Remmick had caught one small glimpse of him and had immediately looked away, trying to obscure his face.

Even then, as she watched him load the car, he was barely organized or careful; he’d been back there all of thirty seconds before he’d come back up front and immediately hopped in the driver’s seat, fumbling to pull the keys out of his pocket while he cursed.

She watched him fumble for a moment, clearly resentful of him and hesitant to say a word to him. However, she could feel her curiosity getting the better of her, the question sitting hot on her tongue like a pepper.

A few minutes later, and they’d been on the road, the air whipping their hair around and the moon blue-ing their skin, and even though they were out of harm’s way, she couldn’t keep it off her mind. 

Remmick, who felt suffocated by the silence, was watching the way her fist clenched and unclenched in her lap, her breaths careful and planned; in, hold, out, hold, repeat. She was an axnious little thing from what he could tell, and as someone who heard and saw everything with a heightened sense, it drove him crazy. It made him shift in his seat and restlessly tap his fingers on the wheel. 

He could hear the skin of her thumb rubbing against the gold band and glanced at the ring on her finger, noticing the way she twisted and fidgeted with it. He’d seen soldiers with those same habits, antsy and yet they bore stone faces atop their worry.

He had to say something, but the words weren’t given a chance to come out.

“You never told me how you knew them white men back there,” she blurted quickly, like the words had been waiting on her tongue.

He didn’t respond immediately; he didn’t flinch, nor did he look over, as if pretending he hadn’t heard her at all.

Suddenly, fakely, he flinched as if he’d registered her question a whole thirty seconds later and giving her big, ‘apologetic’ eyes.

“Oh, my apologies. You say somethin’?” He asked. He couldn’t hold in his agitating, degrading simper and let it form, his eyes focusing back on the road as he bore a mixture of smugness and annoyance. “Figured you still had that lil’ attitude of yours, didn’t think you was talkin’ to lil ol’ me.

She sucked her teeth her teeth. “Which one’s worse: a girl bein’ sassy or a grown man bein’ sassy?” 

His smile didn’t fall, but it lost its humor, and he responded immediately. 

“I don’t mean to be, but you bring it out of me. It’s a gift of yours, but dont worry, lil’ miss; youse more than worth the trouble.”

He’d been married before, and this is exactly how it felt, but he didn’t usually get into the ‘I hate you’ stages until about ten years in. Of course, by then, he’d just eat them. That wasn’t an option here. Not yet, at least.

He kept one hand on the steering wheel, his left resting on the outside of the car as he drove. His button-up sloppily clung to his body in the heat. His messy, oddly-curled bangs stuck to his forehead, and his jaw moved ever so slightly as he suctioned his tongue to the roof of his mouth so tightly he could taste every muscle. Still, he smiled.

The way she got under his skin was like nothing else, and that feeling looked to be mutual. He could see it in the way she’d sat up and turned her whole body towards him, and yet somehow, she’d managed to extinguish herself. She retracted her pointed finger and clenched her fist before slumping back into the seat.

“Doin’ all that just to not answer my question.” 

He looked once, and then he looked twice, and then he looked back at the road again. 

His fingers drummed on the steering wheel for a good long while, his face bitter while the cogs turned in his head.

He then parted his lips to speak, and then closed them as if he wasn’t sure he should. He did it a couple more times until he surrendered some kind of answer.  His lips went tight, and he looked like he was about to say something else, but he went limp in the seat like all the fight had left his body. 

He started slowly, his voice indifferent as he focused his eyes on the road. Still, he bore a subtle smirk.

“Didn’t think you was so worried ‘bout me, but, don’t worry; they only knocked me around a lil’ bit,” he said, clearing his throat with discomfort at the memory. “Not them, clearly; some friends of theirs. But, you seen the old n’ hefty one?” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, well, that one got away. But,” he tapped the steering wheel. “I made out with some wheels n’ keys. So, I didn’t bother to chase him down n’ kill him; I could smell it on him, n’ he ain’t got longer than a month left. His arteries was so swollen they was ticklin’ his lungs.” 

When he looked over at [F/N], he could see the way her eyes were wide with something sick, her eyebrows knitted together. He couldn’t decipher what this look meant until he heard her heart, and the way it beat fast and irregularly. 

She licked the roof of her mouth to salivate, but she was left with worry-induced cotton mouth. The words came out of her like an inhuman croak he couldn’t understand. But after a dry, sick swallow of air, she spoke weakly—

“Oh, fuck..”

She shook her head and broke her eyes from his, mumbling softly to herself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

She was working herself up with worry, he could hear it, but he didn’t blame her for it. Admittedly, he’d complicated a rather easy job; to kill that old man would’ve been like squashing a small spider beneath a large shoe, but that’s precisely why he didn’t care to finish the job. That old man was nothing more than a soft, old bigot; he wasn’t remotely threatening. 

But to [F/N], being chased by a group of rowdy racists was horrifying, especially given that they’d managed to land hits on Remmick. She figured that if she could take him as a small girl (yet albeit well-trained), then a group of six or seven liquor-filled hicks would hurt him. 

And if they didn’t hurt him, they’d hurt her. 

“I knew I should’ve brought somethin’,” she mumbled, cursing herself. “A lil’ handgun or a pistol,” she said, looking around the car. 

She coiled herself around the seat, tapping the floors and seats of the back until Remmick’s arm snaked around her. The car swerved a bit as he pulled her back to the front.

He could see the protesting ‘why did you do that?’ look on her face and immediately spoke, his tone absurd;

“Are you out of your mind?” He asked, scoffing. “Hell, almost made me whip this goddamn hunk of metal; you already know I can’t drive for shit— done lost your mind, girl!”

She huffed, her face contorting into confused frustration.

“What, so I’m ‘sposed to rely on you in case they come down the road lookin’ for us?!” She spat. “I almost whopped yo ass, but they gon’ do it for sure. And then what happens to me, huh?” 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, like a parent listening to a child’s irrational fears. He wasn’t taking this seriously, and that only wound her up more.

“I said they landed a couple hits on me, but it was eight on one. Now, if eight lil’ cats jump one gator he’s gon’ be confused for a minute, but he’s gon’ clear ‘em out, ain’t he?” 

“What? Wh-? Eight cats? Why would eight cats be jumpin’ a gator—“

“[F/N], come on,” he scoffed, getting hotter and thus stammering more. “M-Maybe that was a bad example, but you know that ain’t the point. You gotta believe me now. What, I let one lil’ porkchop escape n’ all the sudden you think I’m incapable of handlin’ business?”

She didn’t say anything and sat with her arms crossed while refusing to look at him.

He tutted, his expression a bit pained.

“That’s a lil’ hurtful darlin’. Now, youse in good hands— for now, ‘til I bite that pretty lil neck,” he said.

His voice came in an odd, low rasp that made her heart rethink itself, his voice chock full of filth and devoid of flirt; it reminded her of how unsettling he was. The back of his curled knuckles gently brushing up against her nape. 

Confused and morbidly offended, she cast him a side eye. He took no offense when she smacked his hand away, re-folding her arms. He simply nodded and pulled his hand back slowly.

He continued. “But for now? Oh, don’t even worry ‘bout them. You safe as can be, which ain’t too safe given our lil’ predicament but believe this, cause it ain’t nothin but the truth: ain’t nobody but me gon’ be layin’ a finger on ya.”

She wasn’t looking at him throughout his little speech, but when he went quiet, she took a peek at him.

His eyes were on the road, left hand on the wheel. His right arm rested on the center console, his hand sticking up with his pinkie out, inviting her to wrap her own around it.

A pinkie promise. 

Something about it was so characteristically elementary, she just had to scoff. She looked him up and down for any signs waning or humor, but there were none. He even shook his arm a little bit, giving her a small smirk and a side eye.

“I ain’t got much morality left in me, but I don’t break promises—‘specially not the pinkie kind.” 

Annoyed, she turned away again. But every time she looked back, his pinkie remained out and straight. 

“…do I get a choice?”

“‘Course. I could take my hand away n’…” 

He tapped his lip with his finger in faux thought, playing with her. 

“Well, I can’t let em’ kill you, but I could not keep my hands off you, if that’s what you sayin’ you prefer?”

He smirked with something sinister, not because he was teasing her for a reaction, but instead because of his sick imagination. He liked that idea, nodding to himself as he spoke real slow, giving her a predatory eye.

“Yeahhh…I could feed on ya ‘stead of containin’ myself, n’ bleed you dry. ’Sides, pretty lil’ think like you? Wouldn’t be hard to find other uses for ya. Up t’you, really.”

She let his words simmer in her mind for a split second before jumping away from him. 

“Jesus Christ—?! Whore, the hell’s the matter with you?!” She spat with degradation. “That’s just filthy! Ain’t thinkin’ bout nothin’ but smut, is you? Big nasty ass…”

He chuckled and shook his pinkie again, but there was no need. The thought of that last part made her pinkie magnetize to his, her embarrassment driving her actions. 

He nodded triumphantly, taking his hand away and putting it back on the wheel. “Aw, darlin’! I swear I ain’t mean it!”

-ˋˏ ༻🎕°⋆༺. ✥ .༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ-

Not even ten minutes later, the car began to make odd, sputtering noises and emitted a low, mechanical growl.

Every time the car stuttered in movement, [F/N] would look over at Remmick, and as she’d suspected, he never reacted to it. Maybe he’d shift the sticks a bit and knit his eyebrows together, but he just kept going. 

They were out of the countryside and up in some small town’s backroads when she finally said something, coming down a hill as they rode closer to a seedy little gas station. Emphasis on seedy; the white paint of the little wooden-buily shack was chipped and covered in speckles of moss, the gas pump being the only thing that looked new.

She gently patted his upper arm, which was bare by now since he’d slipped off his button-up. He looked down at her and back up, noticing where she was pointing.

“Somethin’s off,” she mumbled softly, peering over his shoulder and at the cluster of meters and trackers behind the wheel to try and look for the gas meter. “We don’t need gas, do we?”

“Uhm…” he squinted hard, “which one issat?”

“Are you serious? Wh–”

“Darlin’, I’m tryna drive– I can’t stop n’ figure out which one of these is for the petrol, now! You just gon’ have to tell me.”

She groaned and popped her seatbelt off, contorting her body to lean her his lap. Taken off guard, he swerved a little bit while he struggled to see over the top of her head. That, combined with his annoyance at her close proximity and the heat it brought to his face, made his tone a bit harsh. 

“Christ– the hell ‘er you doin’?” He spat, sitting up in his seat.

“Lookin’ to see how much gas we got in this old thing,” she murmured, “ain’t nobody tryna touch on you!”'

A bit insulted, he quickly shut up. 

She finally managed to glance at the meter, and it was more than low. She almost wasn’t sure she’d seen that correctly, but the minute she was sure, she crawled away from him. 

“Aw, shoot– well, I hope you got gas money…”

“Why?” 

“Why?” She balked, her tone testy. “Wh–?” she rapped at the glass on the dial repeatedly. “Look at it!”

He rolled his eyes and glanced down a few times, his expression only growing more confused. Finally, the realization hit him, and he inwardly groaned. 

“Ah, holon.. shit, how the hell’d it get past E?” He gawked. 

He peered over at the gas station as they came down onto the road, pulling closer as the engine began to spit and sputter, rattling the two of them around. 

The old thing had barely made it to the pump when Remmick sighed, patting his pockets. He’d turned them inside out and came up with a small handful of old-looking gold coins that were decorated in strange inscriptions she couldn’t make out.

She looked down at his palm, then up at him, and then down, and then up. “You gon’ pay with them?”

He bit his lip and responded after a beat, closing his hand and stuffing the gold back in his pockets.

“Not directly, no.” He beckoned for her to bring her hand closer. “But, we gon’ have to see if we can get somethin’ for one of em’.”

He dropped one ice-cold coin into her hand. She drew it back and brought it closer, running her thumb over all its little ridges and bumps, taken with the object. Remmick found himself a bit amused yet confused at her fascination with the old thing. 

“Typa money is this?”

“Solid gold kinda money, nothin’ phony ‘bout it. Feel that weight to it?”

She lifted her palm up and down, weighing it.

“Yeah well, fake or note, somebody’s gon have to take it. What kinda folks live ‘round here anyway?” She asked, stuffing the coin in her pocket.

He scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “The kind that’d be a lil’ on-guard if a lanky ol’  white man came up to em’.”

That earned a small chuckle from her, and she nodded, popping the door open. 

“You not comin’ with me, right?”

Remmick opened his mouth to respond, but the words died in his throat. He scrunched his face and pointed at her, turning his head to the side like he hadn’t heard her right.

“Why’d you ask it like that?”

She paused. “...cause I was wonderin’?”

“No, why’d you ask like that? Like you was hopin’ I’d say no n’ just let you roam off?”

“...cause…?”

He paused for a beat. 

After a minute or two, he hummed to himself affirmingly and grabbed his button-up off the back seat behind him, climbing out of the car and throwing it on. 

“You was gon’ wander off n’ never come back,” he said, annoyed that he was essentially forced to babysit her while she solicited an old Celtic coin for gas. The whole thing was trashy, but it wasn’t entirely beneath him.

“No I wasn’t,” she retorted, even more annoyed that he’d assumed that. “Whatever! Come yo’ stankin’ ass on so we can get some gas, smells like booze out here.”

The deceivingly spacious inside of the gas station smelled like the very products it sold; antigfreeze and tires. Tne floors were wood planks that looked freshly polished, and everything was in rows; snacks, basic necessities, and papers. The were about four or five other people inside and two behind the counter, all of them not paying much mind. Well, until Remmick had entered behind her. 

Everyone’s heads shot up to look at him like prairie dogs, and in his headlights, he dropped his shirt mid-tuck, letting it awkwardly cling to his body. 

“...h-howdy?”

Right, clearly a little weirdo. 

Everyone slowly went back to their business, and it wasn’t until the eyes were off him until he finished tucking his shirt in. His face was a little red, and he leaned down to quietly mutter to [F/N];

“Gon’ head n’ pawn that thang off,” he patted her back, “n’ don’t go too far, else I’mma eat real good tonight, y’hear?”

She began to believe him less and less every time he said that. So she pushed him away and soccfed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah whatever, there’s some mags over there, go look at that.”

He smacked her arm lightly; “listen, you gon’ stop with this lil’ whore accusation. Just a mean thing, ain’t you?”

With that, she stepped a couple of feet away, standing in the middle of the store, looking around at everybody. The women were dressed in long skirts and corseted tops, while the men were dressed similarly to Remmick. Speaking of which, she found herself repeatedly looking over her shoulder and caught him sneaking suspicious glances at her, shooing her.

She rolled her eyes and scanned the room a little closer, looking for a kind face or a face that would at least meet her eyes. She pretended to walk through the aisles and arbitrarily picked up things and read the labels, careful not to linger for too long. She could already tell by the look of the older, more lightskinned man behind the counter that his eyes were glued to her hands. 

Nervous, she stepped away from the aisles and instead took a more direct approach before coming up to a fairly young couple. The woman was a bit pudgy and short, but her eyes were gorgeous and almond-shaped, her hair pulled back in cornrows, and her body adorned in blue gingham cloth. The man wore the same slacks and button-up as everyone else, except his set was cleaner; even his shoes looked shiny, and it was a subtle thing to pick up on, but [F/N]’s skillset included being observant. 

She had a slightly higher-pitched, welcoming, and airy voice. She’d been dressed in a black pinstripe frock, with a simple string of pearls and dress shoes. So when she approached them, she expected them to be a little uppity. Still, there was room for more surprise.

They’d been talking to each other, laughing a little here and there as they spoke in a hushed tone, the man flicking through his wallet. It was when [F/N] was about a foot away that the woman had looked over her shoulder and stopped laughing, her face falling a little. The man noticed, and that accompanied by the way the woman side eyed him and then looked back at [F/N] made his smile drop too.

The two of them sighed somewhat dramatically and [F/N] could swear she heard pne of them mumble about ‘these goddamn kids’, the man quickly tucking his wallet in his back pocket. 

The older woman spoke first, a little apprehensive still. Most likely because she’d seen the girl walk in with some little white boy. 

“Well, hi there,” she said, her words polite but her tone a bit suspicious. She swayed her hips a bit as she tapped her male companion’s shoulder, and he faced [F/N] instinctively, shaking her hand.

“Evenin’ ma’am, sir,” she said, putting her hand band in her pocket as she nodded over to the white man who was now holding up one of the girlie mags and letting the poster picture unfold, whistling. 

God, how much more embarrassing could he be?

Disturbed and clearly seeing that the couple was equally disturbed, she cleared her throat and continued.

“Ah.. We’re musicians, y’see. We been–”

The couple side-eyed each other.

“-- travelin’ tryna get to our next gig but, we ain’t got the typa currency we need for gas, n’ we fresh out. But, if y’all don’t mind makin’ a conversion of currency,” 

She tapped her frock pockets and pulled out the coin, presenting it in her palm, the couple not moving at first. The man passed a look to the woman and she knit her eyebrows together, before looking at [F/N] with a scrunched up face, and after her inspection, she drew back.

“...Uhn uhn… what typa of money is that? Where y’all get that from?”

“We been told it’s gold,” she said, taking it back and flipping it over to look for herself. Hell, she was trying to pawn it off and she didn’t know if she’d been given bullshit or not. 

“Really, I’m not tryna be dishonest. We can’t just stay parked outside all night n’--”

Whilst gesturing outside, the sight of a familiar face made her look twice at the glass doors. A funny-looking man with a tan, spiffy suit was reaching over and pulling the door open. Beside him was a petite, full-chested, and round face brown skin girl with pretty almond eyes and full lips. Her hair was short and styled into fingerwaves that shined in the station lights, her expression disgugruntled as she fanned herself. 

The heat made her black slip cling to her skin, only furthering the looks she received, and the makeup? [F/N] could swear someone had taken hold of their husband.

The woman’s gaze finally came up off the ground, her husband departing from her with his wallet as she took a look around, hands on her hips. 

The look of surprise that fell upon her face when she looked up and spotted [F/N] standing by the young couple was almost theatrical. Her husband had already been turned around and was getting ready to walk away when she shoved him and practically slammed the door over his head, squealing like a schoolgirl.

She adjusted her frock over her chest as she ran over.  

“Is that–? Well I’ll be damned! I know that ain’t lil’ [F/N] all grown up!”

Remmick perked up at the sound of all the hollering, not knowing where to look. It was only when the passenger door opened that he locked in and nearly flew over to [F/N], assuming this was some sort of rescue mission.

Instead, she was aghast, running out with her arms open wide.

To go from being in a fit to seeing her favorite cousin was certainly overwhelming, but she didn’t care. She didn’t even think about what Remmick might do, and instead buried herself in the woman’s arms, the two of them spinning and hollering like children. 

“My, my! Girl, where you been at?!” The dark-skinned beauty exclaimed, her hair all permed and short in a mature yet flouncy bob. 

Her clothes were flapper-esque and black with fancy beadwork, the tassels on the end making noises as the little gemstones splashed together from all the movement. 

Her voice was sweet, high, and chipper; it was why they’d called her ‘Baby’ for the longest time. Then, she got older and started running off and being fast. She quickly lost that nickname and he’d family’s sweetness, although she still shared a heart with [F/N]. They were one and the same in that regard, after all. 

“Marie! I-I don’t even know what to say!” [F/N] had exclaimed. And when she’d come down from her excitement, a sort of ‘oh-shit’ look crossed her face. She looked off in the distance.

Cousin Marie noticed this, and her mood dampened.

“What? Why you makin’ that face?” She asked, before looking over. 

She nearly jumped off [F/N] to reach under her dress for her pistol when she saw that white man running over, her free hand out as a signal for him to stop as she scrambled. 

“W-woah now, h-hold on ma’am!” He put his hands out, still managing to chuckle. God forbid she’d shoot him and thus discover his true nature. 

When the woman froze, he gestured to [F/N]. “We’se together, you see?” He held up his hand and let his ring glint. “I’m her fiancé.”

[F/N], still fuming, had half a mind to put everything at risk and tell Marie that yeah, he was lying, and he was in fact up to no good and had been holding her hostage. However, because her cousin couldn’t even quick draw, she doubted any possible success in a two-on-one.

She forced a small, bemused smile as she gently rubbed her cousin’s arm. 

“Yeah, that’s… that’s mine,” she said, poorly disguising her disgust with a laugh. 

Marie whipped her head around. 

“Girl—?,” she gawked. “You mean to tell me this lil’ glass of milk is yo husband?”

Little. Huh. He’d remember that.

Marie’s face scrunched up, and she gave [F/N] a pitiful look, her eyes lingering on Remmick as she examined him up and down. 

“Well… don’t go around tellin’ everybody that. Most folks ain’t gon like that, ‘cept they gon go after you n’ not him. Excuse me for askin’ but, ain’t y’all scared?”

Remmick came up and wrapped his hands around [F/N]’s waist tightly to keep her close, even when she’d lurched forward, leaning in and placing a fat, wet, and sloppy kiss on the nape of her neck with a low, rumbly chuckle. 

“Every single day, but I’d do anything to keep her safe. Hell, I’m lucky I snatched her up ‘fore anybody else did,” he said, his eyes seemingly squinty with joy. That squint had been his way of saying ‘suck it up, or I’ll kill you both right now.’

She nodded, never breaking her eye contact with him as she smiled, fighting back the bile coming up. Her eye was borderline twitching.

“Careful, people gon’ get to talkin,” she said as she placed a very reluctant peck on his cheek. 

Why’d she say that? She could picture it; a bunch of ankle-biting halfbreeds running around her little Chicago apartment. That thought made her so very, very sick. 

Marie felt equally confused. But, they were basically married; who was she to judge?

“Ah…” she trailed off, before she shook her head and bore a smile. “So, what y’all doin’ out here?”

“Well, we…” she stammered; she was blanking.

Remmick’s eyes widened a bit, and he, too, stammered to conjure up a lie—

“W-well, we was on our way up to Mississippi to visit her folks. Y’see, I ain’t ever met ‘em, n’ so—“

“Wait, wait, wait,” Marie interjected. She looked at him like he was crazy. “So— you ain’t even ask ‘fore you proposed?” She looked at [F/N]. “That’s a lil’ too fast, ain’t it? Why y’all rushin’? Been hunchin’ n’ ended up with a lil’ baby?

[F/N] rubbed her temples, feeling her face heat up a little. How would that even work? She figured that once people were turned, they didn’t have blood and thus didn’t have any… gravy. Could he even—?

She shook off the thought and cleared her throat for composure, feeling herself grow more and more disgusted. Great, now she was getting a very, very detailed mental image. 

It didn’t help that when she’d glanced over at Remmick, he wore a shit-eating grin on his now rose-colored face, fanning himself as they quickly stumbled back towards each other. His hands assumed their previous position on [F/N]’s waist as he spoke, clearly amused at her reaction. He was a little taken aback, sure, but she nearly jumped out of her own skin. But she remained committed to her little performance despite her repulsion to him, leaning up against him with her hands on his chest, rubbing in small circular motions. 

She really knew how to play the part, and he was impressed. 

“N-no-no—no! Just— when you find true love, you just got to act on it, right? Wasn’t it like that with you n’ Chicle?” 

“Yeah, that’s why we got married so fast; we was hunchin’.”

She and Remmick stared blankly at Marie for a moment, managing to let out small, awkward chuckles that Marie interpreted as applause to her humor, and not as evasions of the awkwardness amidst them.

[F/N] cleared her throat.

“S-so, what you n' Chicle n’.. The baby, ehem, doin’ out here?” She asked, finally mellowing out upon returning to a topic she wouldn’t blow up over. 

Marie gestured off in the distance, and despite the darkness of the night, the faint figure of a man coming around to the trunk of the car with luggage up to his neck was barely made out. They all watched as he stuck his leg out a little too far and lost his balance, tripping off the curb as his luggage avalanched atop him. 

“Ouh…”

She winced and stared at him for a moment. It wasn’t until he began to get back up that she nodded slowly, assuring his well-being. 

“He-he’s alright,” she said, turning back to them as she continued. 

“We got a deal goin’ with some white folk where we get a good amount of corn liquor for cheap for The Black Cat. ‘Course, you gotta pay extra for ‘em to smuggle it across state, so we do that ourselves.” She said. 

The Black Cat. The name of the bar sparked a childish glee within [F/N]. She shook Marie’s shoulders, shrieking. Marie wore a concealed yet proud smile, looking away to keep herself from bragging. Still, it was hard when your little cousin was spinning you around and yipping. 

“So y’all really opened that old thing up? Well, hell, where y’all at?”

“Definitely not ‘round here,” she looked around. “These some uppity ass niggas; couldn’t get em to dance if you had the barrel pointin’ at they feet. Naw, we ‘bout an hour down the road from here, up in southern Tennessee.”

Marie paused and cracked a smile as she looked between the two of them. 

“Why? Y’all wanna see what we got goin’ on?”

And risk delaying this trip any longer? Remmick scoffed and shook his head. 

“Oh,” his voice was all proper and polite. “We’d hate to intru–”

“Yes!”

The sudden yell from [F/N] had sent Marie and Remmick into a state of silent shock. Marie, who’d noticed the fiancé’s hesitance, chuckled awkwardly.

“Really, it would be our pleasure!” She reasoned while a small smile came up behind [F/N] and gave her shoulders a firm squeeze. “You gotta keep your lil’ missus happy! ‘Sides, I heard rumor that y’all is musicians n’ it’s been so long since we heard lil’ Junebug sing somethin’ fore us!”

He gave her an awkward smile and laughed, nodding– all the while he was staring at [F/N] with murderous intent. Still, he hated to admit it, but he was impressed; had he said no, Marie might get to talking to the family and mention [F/N] running around with a random white man. Someone might ‘check up’ on them, worst-case scenario. [F/N] clearly knew all this; he could tell by her wide smile and her awkwardly squinted eyes, communicating with a look that said ‘I got you right where I want you.’

He prepared to say something, but was swiftly caught off guard. He cracked a genuine laugh.

“J-Junebug? Whose Junebug?” He dealt her a look of fascination and tease, clearly reveling in her sheepish expression. “N’ when was I gon’ hear about this?”

She rolled her eyes, pulling away from Marie in the way embarrassed children did. “Marie, c’mon, I’m grown now; too old for Junebug,” she remarked bitterly.

Marie smacked her hip and earned a sharp little ‘ow’; “Stop actin’ funny, it’s cute! And if you gon’ be my guest you gon’ be singin’, n’ we gon introduce you as Junebug.”

Clearly, she was kidding, but [F/N] didn’t wanna hear anymore, stepping away from the two of them with her arms crossed. She managed to laugh a little despite the horror and the fact that Remmick now had more ammunition to tease her with, and in turn, she now had more reasons to strangle him.

“Alright, alright, I’ll do a lil’ one-two for y’all,” she said. “I ain’t got rusty; been singin’ ever since I left the Delta anyhow.”

“You gots to tell me all about it. Y’all good to drive? Heard y’alls broke asses in here beggin’for loose change,” She said, pulling out a ffat wad just to present a five dollar bill. Instead of offering it to [F/N], she paid her fiancé a little bit of attention, a little suspicious of the conservatism of his words.

Remmick extended his hand and gingerly took the money, his voice humble and sweet.

“Aw, that’s real sweet of you, darlin’. ‘S nice to know all that attitude as well as generosity runs in the family,” he said, chuckling. “Makin’ me real scared to meet the rest of y’all, though.”

His eyes cast themselves upon [F/N] with a sinister look that made her spine tingle. And she could swear she saw a glint of those same simmering coals in his eyes, his voice low.

“Can’t wait, neither.”

-ˋˏ ༻🎕°⋆༺. ✥ .༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ-

a/n: SURpRISEEE SHAWTAYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i owed this to y'all about 5 days ago but after today I shouldn't have anything left to do! So, I'll be free to give this fic the attention it deserves. In the meantime, this chapter is setting up the next couple conflicts that our little lovebirds (they wanna kill each other) will encounter! As you can see, it may be hard for them to overcome the bullshit they're finna go through if they can barely get along but, you see a little bit of less-mean banter between them this time. And its gonna get way better, but then its go down exponentially. a/n #2: I also just wanna thank y'all for all the sweet comments! deff motivated me to finish this chapter! Six thousand words, good god... yeah this mf finna cap off well past 40k words if I keep up w/ my current plans but, I may poll it and see how long of a fic y'all want cause I could easily go longer. But, to keep from updating every 2 seconds and burning myself out from overly crossposting and formatting, we'd be upping chapter wordcounts to abt 8k. Mind you, they wouldn't get boring because I'm a pretty productive yapper (like I think I write with minimal filler, right? RIGHT--????) but that's still cray. Might poll kit, idk. Anyways, LOVE YOU GUYS! Keep being sweet teehee!!

[oozebrain]

Art x gender neutral Reader. Art and reader are both ND.

Chapter summary: A new neighbor moves into the house beside you. Being the only other kid in the neighborhood, you’re excited to meet him and hopefully make your first friend.

Warnings include: implied child abuse, verbal abuse, abusive parent (mother), angst, ableism (including r slur), swearing. Minors dni.

Laughter in the Dark

Chapter 1

The sound of a moving truck woke you up. You grumble sleepily and pull your covers over your head. It’s so piercing and loud in the quiet. You look to your alarm clock and it reads six thirty in the morning. It’s the weekend and you were looking forward to sleeping in, but with the incessant beeping it was impossible. Once the beeping subsided, you thought there would be peace, but loud banging and thudding followed after.

Annoyed, you toss your blanket off and go to the window to see what has so rudely woken you up. In the yard you see a tall woman and a smaller figure next to her. He seems restless, looking around this way and that as he soaks up his new surroundings. He looks to be about your age and excitement blossomed in your chest. 

In a hurry you put on your clothes and comb your fingers through your hair. As you enter the living room you see your mother. She is also getting ready, her own curiosity piqued. You were both nosy, there was nothing that could be done about it.

“Are we going to see the new neighbors?” You ask, pulling on your jacket. 

“That goddamn truck woke me up. I’m going over there to ask them who the hell moves in at six in the fucking morning on a Saturday.”

You hoped she wouldn’t. You desperately want to make a good impression. You want a friend, an acquaintance, anything. Anyone. You try to placate her, “Maybe we can all be friends and have cookouts and stuff.”

She ignores you, muttering to herself as she puts on her own jacket and grabs her purse and keys. You silently follow her out the door, the bracing breeze of the fall morning tearing through your neck. You pull your jacket closer, the thin material doing little to actually block out the cold. You’ve gotten used to it over the years but the breezes always managed to rip you up.

The neighbors are less than a few feet away and the pair turn to acknowledge you as you walk up. The boy turns away and retreats by the garage, away from the group that’s been created. Naturally, you separate as well and migrate over to the teenager.

He is gangly and taller than you are. In the cold morning he is bundled up with a jacket and hat with ear flaps. You could barely see his face from the scarf wrapped around it, which he pulled up over his nose when you walked up. Despite being bundled up, he was still huddled up into himself and withdrew from you when you approached by taking a step back. He eyed you warily so you stopped short, offering a friendly wave.

He doesn’t speak but continues to stare at you with apprehension. He looks down at the ground and awkwardly kicks a pebble out of the way. It scoots over to you and you gently kick it back. He pauses and stands rigid for a moment before looking back to you. He says nothing but kicks the pebble back, this time with more enthusiasm and you reciprocate.

The boy doesn’t seem interested in conversation so you don’t force the subject and continue to play in a silence. You notice he keeps looking back to his mother, and you notice this because you are doing the same. Every now and again you check over your shoulder to see if she is watching you, but she is still talking to the boy’s mother.

You look back to him and offer him a smile. You can’t see his mouth but you see his eyes crinkle slightly in the smile hidden beneath. It seemed like he was shy, just as you were. You idly sway, hands behind your back and fingers fidgeting as you coax yourself through this encounter with a new person. 

It’s difficult to meet new people. You’ve lived here your whole life but can’t name a single person. There were no other kids in the neighborhood, so seeing him step out of the car gave you hope that things could change. You tried not to appear over eager but you truly were hopeful you would be able to make a friend.

“Arthur, who’s this?” Comes a voice to your left. You both turn your heads in unison to look at his mother. He doesn’t answer or move, he merely stares with wide eyes, hands in his pockets and huddled into himself. His smile is gone. Again, you notice his behavior because you do the same, your own gaze wide with apprehension now that attention has been drawn to you. 

She closes the distance and smiles down at you, “Sorry dear. He doesn’t mean to be so rude, he’s just retarded.”

You grimace some at this statement. She takes your scowl of disdain as confusion and continues to rub salt in the wound, “Retarded means he’s slow. He can’t talk. I think he can, but someone just doesn’t want to because they like making things hard for mommy, don’t they?”

She punctuated her overly sweet sounding condescension by pursing her lips and looking down at him over her glasses. He averts his gaze and stares at you instead. He is silently saying something to you with his eyes. It speaks loudly to you, it screams, it roars. He hates her. After a moment he looks away to stare off into the distance while she stands over him in her own silence.

“Well I think we’d better be going. It was great meeting you both.” Your own mother cuts in, sensing the awkward tension. You wanted to leave the situation, but didn’t particularly want to leave him. Arthur glanced back at you before dropping his gaze again. He turned and left without a word, footsteps plodding heavy on the concrete steps up to the porch. The metal screen door closes behind him with an angry slam.

Arthur’s mother sighs, throwing her hands up in the air and looking to your mother apologetically, “Kids. You give them everything and they still want more.”

Your own mother says nothing, but a look crosses her face having her own words repeated to her from a stranger. She makes a noncommittal noise and motions for you to come with her. You give a half-hearted wave goodbye and begin your walk home, just a short distance across the yard. 

As you turn to wave you can see Arthur staring at you from the living room window. His scarf is off to reveal a healing lip and your stomach tightens. You really don’t want to leave him here, but if you don’t comply that would be you next. But still, you have to do something, anything.

“Can me and Arthur play later, mom?” You put her on the spot. All the pressure was off you and now rested on her shoulders. She said nothing for a moment, flicking her eyes between you and Arthur’s mother before nodding.

“As long as it’s okay with his mom it’s alright with me.” She agrees and the two of you look to her. She folds her arms over her chest, shifting her weight to one leg as she thought. You didn’t know what was going on in her head, but she was visibly thinking long and hard about something, and you didn’t like it.

After a time she relented, “They have to stay in the front yard. I don’t want Arthur wandering around until we know our neighbors better.”

Your mother seems a little peeved at that statement, taking it as a personal offense, but doesn’t address it. Instead she chuckles awkwardly and motions again for you to follow, which you do. The two of you make it to the house and once you are inside the truth comes out.

“I do not want you hanging out with that kid.” She turns to you, “He’s fucking weird, what if he hurts you?”

You didn’t say anything. He didn’t come off as threatening, in fact he was the one who had initially withdrawn when you approached. Arthur didn’t seem like a mean or bad kid, he looked... scared, stressed, absent. He looked the same way you did after a long night of berating, or the look of dread when you heard ‘just wait until we get home’.

“I do not want you hanging out with him. I’m going down there later to tell her you have a stomachache.”

You look at her with a pleading, but angry, expression. Your ears burn and you clench your teeth. You are twelve years old but she manages you like a toddler, “I don’t have any friends, why can’t I play with him?”

“Because he’s a freak. You have no idea what his mom told me, he’s a fucking nutcase.” She sighs, “Kids like him are why they should bring back asylums. You’re not going, that’s final. I am not sending you out with him.”

“It’s just in the yard!”

“You’re NOT going!”

“You never let me do anything!” You scream at her, fists balled and ready to fight back. You were more worked up than you should be, and part of it was your worry for Arthur. You needed a friend, and he needed a friend too. In your short time meeting him, you could tell he understood you, and you understood him. There was an unspoken solidarity. He knew, and you knew. You just wanted a friend, what the hell was wrong with everyone?

“I’m doing what’s best for you, I’m looking out for you. You should be more thankful that I actually give a shit about you and don’t let you run around with fucking psychopaths who hack up animals!” She screams back, taking an intimidating step toward you. 

You aren’t having this, not today. You scoff at her and trudge to your room. The door slams behind you, an echo from just moments before. You lock the door behind you and flop onto your bed, tightly hugging the pillow beside you. The door wasn’t allowed to be locked but you didn’t care right now, that was a problem for later you. You didn’t want to even hear her breathe right now.

Frustrated tears come and you bury your face in the pillow. You were so angry and crestfallen. She always did this, she always agreed to plans in the moment then changed them as soon as you were behind closed doors. Any attempts to make friends had been foiled, and now that it had been so long without a friend you deeply struggled to make connections.

But you felt a connection with Arthur. You wanted to see him again. You wanted to talk to him, to give him someone to confide in, and you wanted someone to confide in as well. After a small cry you sit up on your bed, still hugging your pillow in your lap. From the corner of your eye you can see a small flash of light blinking over and over.

You get up to walk to the window and shield your eyes at the flashlight. Across the way is Arthur framed by the window pane. His bedroom seems to be across from yours. He turns off the flashlight and offers you a small, shy wave which you reciprocate. He flashes the light at you again. You hold up your finger to tell him to wait a moment and retrieve your own and flicker it at him.

And then you see it, a smile. It’s small and stiff, but it’s there. The two of you sit there at the window in the dim morning light, sending nonsensical Morse code that only the two of you can understand. Fate held you both in its hands as it linked the two of you together through these small flashes of light. You were exhilarated, and judging by the growing smile on his face, so was he. 

[fisheito]

This was my introduction to bunny waiter eiden,which warrants a cut because I'm me🫢😑😐

I wuz screaMun because ppl weRE FAST ON THAT SHITE the dash was lighting up with eiden intimacy room details and i was Aghast LIKE NO!!! I CANNOT LOOK UPON YE .

I must RUN INTO TH3 QI LALAPP .APP. POSTHASTE

Oh got THERE HE IS . DIVERGENT DREAM? PLEASE ohhh look he's doing magic tricks just like he was just showing off to kuya in sleepless fun fair awww the continuity!!!-----

SHUT UPPPP I AGREE WITH YOU 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🥺😭

So I FINISH READING the chapters that are released and i get to the Battle stages and OhMo what's this i see

Multiplier?+?+?+++!!!

Ohhhkaaaaayy that means i have to roll for eidento get my max rewards NoOooo;;; he's always eluded me I'm gonna lose all my comtracts qnd BE EMOTIONALLY CRUSHED 3 YEARS IN A ROW (ノД｀)ノ eiden PleaSe come to me i want your furniture my floors are barren i am in desperate need of chairs for my tables and your little nightstand of beverages PLEQSE. I HAVE SO MUCH OF YOUR FAVOURITE FOOD. PLEASE.

PSPSSPSPPSPSSPSPSPPSSPS

GasP NO...ITCANTBE!!!!

>?! In THE FIRST 20 PULLS. wsit who are u protecting what is the story behind your line--

MY NEW FURNITURE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOU BEAUTIFUL BLESSED GENEROUS EIDEN MWAH I ML OVOE U

now. what are you. Are you going to help me in battle what's your deal

Light guardian!!! That's cool!! Don't have a light guardian in my battle roster!!

Wtf is going on!!!!! This doesnt look like a set of pure guardian skills!@!!! WHATEVER! IT'S FINE! IT'S EVEN BETTER, ACTUALLY BECAUSE I DOUBT ANY REGULAR GUARDIAN CAN OUTCLASS SR MORVAY ANYWAY

Hmmm...... does that mean i won't really need this eiden for most battles? Morv has been carrying me and idk if it's worth it to build eiden to 3 stars because i only have 1 of him... that would cost a LOT of memory shards... :/

BUT EVERY EIDEN HAS BEEN SOOOO USEFUL UPON RELEASE. I CANNOT MISS OUT ON HIM THIS TIME!!!

CRYSTALS FOR YOU, .YMY LIEGE 🫴🫴🫴🫴🫴🫴 . Did i just drop the 5400 memory crystals I've been saving for years oh whatever i still have SOMe left

WAughH i NEED TO LEVEL HIM NOW I DON'T KNOW WHEN I'LL NEED HIM IN BATTLE BUT I NEED TO BUILD HIM *NOW*

MUST REACH MINIMUM TIER 6 SPECIAL ABILITY!!!!! I CAN (PROBABLY) AFFORD THAT MUCH I CAN BUILD HIM MORE WHEN I ACTUALLY USE HIM IN BATTLEA AA A A A AAAAAAAAAA WHER E IS MY GOLD I NEED COIN

AND NOW FOR THOSE INTIMQCYROOM BUFFS

Aaahhhh..... eiden is now the default face once i enter the Intimacy Rooms..... yes, this feels proper. Arrival of the king. Positioned Where he rightfully belongs.

Oh Glorb I FORGOT THAT GIFTING EIDEN PORTRAITS DOESNY USE ANY POINTS LET'S GOOOWWEEEEEEEEEEE

FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS SALTED AND SEASONED I nEED TO HEAR HIS 18 SECOND ORGASM NOISE (<- so the legends say.idk. i never counted. I should count now. what The FriauK wAS TGAT SQUEAK)

How did it only take ~200 portrsits to unlock all 5 rooms what have i been hoarding for why didn't the other eidens come to me SIR I'M KEEPING YOUR FAVE SNACKS IN MY PANTRY FOREVER SO YOU'LL BE ENTICED TO VISIT. EIDEN YOU'RE KILLING ME IM RUNNING OUT OF ROOM FOR MY OWN SNACKS BECAUSE YOURS ARE TAKING UP ALL THE SPACE--!!

5-room-buffed now. BReathes. ok. Fine, we're good. We're o k ay. I cant watch the rooms yet, though. Not until the full event is released. I need to know everything before i dive in. AAAAAHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHH I FINALLY HAVE AN EIDEN AT TIME OF RELEASE!!!!! A CURRENT EIDEN!!! HE IS WITH ME AND I'M NOT BANKRUPT! WWAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

..nd this is me after that whirlwind of emotion, which all happened in <10 minutes

Eiden put me in some sort of trance

Whe4rn am i.?

Why are my coffers empty

[ar1suu]

UNDERST☆ND — ( streamer!scara x fem!idol!reader )

synopsis. when the famous streamer Scaramouche, reveals being in a long term relationship with a mysterious person, no one thought he would be married to the famous idol, YN.

or in which yn and kuni are the perfect couple and they show it.

PARING! kunikuzushi x fem!reader / husband!kuni x wife!reader / streamer!kuni x idol!reader

( genre : married au!, slice of life, modern au!, fluff, smau, comedy, lil to no angst ) | playlist!

featuring! Kunikuzushi, Hutao, Lumine, Childe, Kazuha, Xiao + random cameos of other idols

warnings! s3x jokes, curse words

status! on-hold

taglist! open

started: 24/ 07/ 23

finished: ??/ ??/ ??

take you by the

hand you’re the

only one who

understands.

PROFILES!

⍟ me & my husband | ⍟ yncara shippers!

CHAPTERS!

⎯ STREAM 0 ➤ he’s married?!?

⎯ SREAM 1 ➤ oh, I didn’t expect that

⎯ STREAM 2 ➤ Q&A?

✮ 2.25 ( interview )

✮ 2.5 ( interview )

⎯ STREAM 3 ➤ streaming???

⎯ STREAM 4 ➤ special cameo

⎯ STREAM 5 ➤ new release

⎯ STREAM 6 ➤ who?

⎯ STREAM 7 ➤ welcome home

⎯ STREAM 8 ➤ home

⎯ STREAM 9 ➤ chats

⎯ STREAM 10 ➤ tbd

taglist!

@nillajhayne @aeongiies @scaramoo @alatusorrow @ainnofinway @lxkeeeee @lyzisbitchingagain @cofijelli @sakiimeo @beriiov @yukii-1 @yelleloww @nnasv @k1an4a @kiokiee @kyon-cherri @kokoscutie @ashurzs @kunikya @reivelmin @gyuhairclips @moonplethxra @yuminako @fangygf @phoenix-eclipses @deepdinosaurwizard @hiraetvh

[ ask to be added to the taglist! ]

[maxinehufflepuffprincess]

Not me fighting with my brain over which collection to update.

Like I have LAFF's Su-ho and Si-eun going toe to toe with Love Line's Chishiya and Niragi

On the one hand, you have 'Love at First Fight'. Su-ho is practically bragging about how focused I've been on that collection. I've been really enjoying this one; it's a lot of fun. I'm loving Su-ho and Reader's relationship, and I'm enjoying exploring them with Si-eun. Just a few more chapters, and then we can have the confession.

'Love Line' is ready to throw punches because it went from being the golden only child to suddenly having too many siblings. Niragi and Chishiya want attention. And I'm trying to decide if I wanna do the Kings of Clubs first or a fic for the collection that's based on one of the boys. Still need to make the family series as well.

Then you have 'Heart and Diamond'. Arisu and Chishiya are watching and enjoying the chaos cuz the next chapter is about halfway done. But like I'm still figuring out the vibe, you know? Like, is the vibe fine how it is, or would it be better darker? What would that even mean? As a reader, what would you prefer to see?

'Life Line's Arisu and Karube are chilling in the corner, drinking hot chocolate, waiting to be noticed after I've neglected them for so long. Karube is reassuring Arisu that their time is coming. I miss them.

Lastly, Cheong-san nd Su-hyeok from 'Not So Secret' are just happy their first chapter is out. But we still have one more chapter before we can actually start season 1, and a few more before all the fun 'All of Us are Dead' zombie stuff.

------

Then in my drafts, I have ideas. I've got a moodboard for 'The King, The Queen and the Rook', which is gonna be a Baekjin x reader x Seongje fic. But only if I can figure out how to get them into the relationship. A part of me wants to gloss over them getting together and just start with the three already dating. But all my collections have a chapter on how they got or how they'll get together. So it feels wrong not to do it for these three. Ya know? Because if I do start with them dating, I'd feel the need to write a 'Here's how it happened' chapter at some point. I want the reader in this story to be a good leader. She's feared but fair. She's a dancer who can throw a punch, but only when needed. She'd have her boys wrapped around her little finger.

Then you have 'Matched Rhythms'. I'm rethinking the name, idk. Let me know if you like the name. But it would be a Baku x Reader x Gotak collection. I think this could be a really fun one. I'm thinking Best friends to lovers vibes. Very sweet, protective moments. A little angst. I like the idea of the reader being into ice skating for this one. I feel like for my collections, it's fun having readers enjoy different things, you know? But I don't wanna start this one until Love at First Fight is finished with season one.

Then there is an unnamed Gotak x Reader x Jun-tae one. That has a moodboard and that's it. Also kinda wanting it to be a slowborn one..possibly. I do want the reader's passion to be art for this one, though. I don't know why, just seems like a fun idea. This one is more like not even a full idea, just yet.

Lastly, I have a small idea for Arisu x Reader x Usagi. I think I'd call it Heart and Spade. I'm still figuring out how I'd want this one to go. So it's more of a mess of words and no real idea just yet.

-----------

But yeah... any out of the ones in the drafts, which sounds more interesting or what would you look forward to reading most? Keep in mind they won't be out for a long time but I'm asking so I know and so I can organize things a little better.

[sabine-smitten-obviously]

Good Omens - December reads part #2- fanfics recs 🤓🩷🎄

I ´ve decided to write a short summary each month about the books i read. I need this to let go of the stories, its a nice way of saying good-bye to them and to spread the love to the authors and to you. 🩷

I only read finished stories and rarely one-shots. You will find no WIPs in here, as i really like to dive deep into the plot and i keep losing track of WIPs. Also you will only find happy or at least hopeful endings here - i couldn´t handle anything else.

Also i try to find every author here on tumblr to link-to, but sadly some times i am out of luck. If you happen to know them, please tell them, write to me in the comments or DM me and i will update the post!

Ratings in ()

Multichapter Fanfics

Devour (E) by @tastymoves

Human AU. Ok, look here. I started with That´s what happens when you sign on the line - thinking it is a completed fic of 4 chapters. Turns out it actually stops kind of midst-story, because its a whole series. So i had to keep going through and read all the other (10!) fics to get the whole series, right? Crowley is in search of a professional dom and Aziraphale is not whom he would have chosen but very much who he needs. The stories are mostly about them having sessions in one or another way, their relational development is only a background-telling. Consists of 10 fics with timeline and another 10 oneshots with no clear timeline. Smut:Plot-Ratio = 90:10!

The Angel´s Gambit (T) by @dragonfire42

Crowley questions his angel, why he has a chessgame put up in his shop. So Aziraphale tells him, that he plays chess with Death. And why. A tale through their shared history. And an explanation, just to why Crowley slept as much as he did.

Artwork by @theeinkibus

Artist in residence (E) by @caedmonfaith

Human AU. Crowley is a famous glasblower and has a 1 year residency at the Ineffable Museum. Aziraphale is a shy preservationist with a secret crush on Crowley. They meet and the rest is ineffable. Besides the typical plot there is a great part dedicated to dealing with anxiety and neurodiversity. This was very informative for me and i will have to take a deeper dive on ND too.

Most funny quote: "Pardon me, sir, but I think you might have lost your halo." 😇😅

Seriously, @caedmonfaith is an incredible writer, everything they put out there is just a safe read. Go ahead and if you like her work just hit the subscribe-button to be on the safe side.

Beyond Understanding and Incapable of Being Put Into Words (E) by @beet-feet

After the end of S2, Crowley stays in the bookshop - more or less just to keep him occupied. When Aziraphale shows up months later, they talk - but not only. And it has consequences ... A little bit of angst, a little bit of smut and a little bit of plot - nicely put together. Mind the tags!

Most funny quote: "Someone help me, there are two of them, he thought to himself as he stood in the doorway to the kitchen shaking his head." 😅

Call me, my Dear (E) by @MimiRay

AU, though not only human. Aziraphale is a priest in a small town. One dark night on his way home he stumbles upon a starved and frozen creature and takes it in. Unbeknownst to him, Crowley is an incubus - a demon that feeds on sex. At least usually. But the priest has a secret on his own, too. As the walls are quite thin, it doesn´t take Crowley long to detect it.

A soft and hot and somehow still tender story.

Most touching quote: "Immortal or not, he was, after all, a human at heart." 🩷

Drive me to the moon (E) by @captainblou

Human AU, Crowley is a rally driver and Aziraphale is a professional dancer. For a charity event they get to drive a rally together. Wouldn´t be any problem, if they would like each other. Which they don´t. Enemies to friends to lovers-story you really can dive in to. 🤓 What i really liked about it: Crowley has a vulv🩷 but wears a binder and goes by he/him. Gave me a lot to think.

Caramel delight (E) by @ajconstantine

Human AU. Crowley is happy, when his shitty neighbours finally move. He is even more happy, when he sees his new neighbour moving in. It is only polite to welcome him with a glass of homemade caramel sauce, right? Or to show him the best restaurants nearby or how to cook the sauce himself. Lucky for him, Aziraphale has an other strength than cooking ... 😅

I just tumbled upon this author but will definitely read more of her/him/them!

Oneshots

All i need, darling, is a life in your shape (G) by @mortuarybees

Set after S1, the angel and the demon find themselves spending more an more time together. But what does it mean? Aziraphale wonders.

A nice and possibly acurate story about them getting together. Christmas and only-one-bed-trope included! 🎄😅

Remember us just like this forever (E) by @HazelSage

A while after they saved the world, the demon wants a baby. Aziraphale books a holiday at a beautiful resort for them. Sun, Sand and S🍆. More tender than expected!

So that´s the next 9 fanfics and makes 22 so far this month. I don´t like it when the list gets too long, therefore i will post a part #3.

My lovely co-readers, GO-lovers and ineffable loves - have a wonderfull christmas-time! Keep your hearts and minds safe🎄🩷🤗

[imaginespazzi]

Ok Nivi, first of all - Happy new year!! Wishing you an amazing 2025 ahead filled with love, laughter, joy and good health (plus a UConn natty and a Pazzi hard launch!)

Second of all - when can we mayhaps expect the next chapter of GH? Only after you've rewritten it so that it involves Paige waking up to her two favorite people in the world ofc!

Third of all - we're two months into the wcbb season now and while i know conference play has just started, who are your early Final 4 picks??

Lastly - favorite Pazzi moment of 2024?

Ok that's all, love you 🥰

Happy new year my love and here's me wishing all of those things right back at you!

I'm reeeeeeally hoping this weekend but like y'all know me...but I'll try fs!

Alright here are my final 4 pics:

UConn (call me a fan, call me a homer, call me delusional idc idc, we're gonna be there)

SC (sometimes you just gotta go with what's most obvious and I'd be shocked if SC didn't make it)

UCLA (there's definitely time for them to prove me horrendously wrong and they've played a relatively easy schedule but something about them just really clicks)

USC (sometimes all it takes is a player who's generational and we've seen that and Juju has a better cast around her than other players did)

And I know it's highkey hater of me to not have ND there and yeah part of it is definitely just pure old-fashioned sport rivalry hate but I do wanna say that there's a part of me that thinks ND is either gonna win it all or be a 2nd round exit and since I don't like the first option, I'mma choose to believe it'll be the 2nd.

And favorite Pazzi moment? I genuinely can't choose so I'll give you top 3:

The Draft Soft Launch (because it was in fact a soft launch and it was just so unexpected that it deserved #1)

Cruisegate (I mean when you think of unexpected...just insane all around from the first tweet to the Azzi repost, just insane)

US Open (again who the hell woulda thunk it? And again, lowkey gave soft launch)

Honorable mentions: Azzi posting Paige sleeping on her story, Paige's comments/birthday post, NYC fashion week and just everything domestic/family-oriented they've done, be it literally anything with the Fudds or Bueckers cabin week.

[sunnybyler]

i’ve been sitting on my thoughts for so long but i just have to get this off my chest. i don’t like to yuck ppls yum so if you like e/riel pls scroll away nd keep having your fun it’s not my problem. however some of y’all can get mean as HELL and as an elucien i have to get this off my chest. (also warning for gwynriels i’m with y’all i defend y’all here however i do go in a bit on az in this so fair warning). i truly have no idea why e/riels cling so hard to the azriel bonus chapter in acosf because that chapter, more than literally anything else in the series, proved to me that e/riel is absolutely NOT going to be endgame. let me explain:

1. it is explicitly stated that azriel did not think of his relationship with elain outside of a sexual nature. i think some ppl get kinda annoyingly puritanical when trying to make this point when it’s like 100% certain lucien had sexual thoughts of elain too. the point isn’t the thoughts themselves. the difference here is the explicit mention that he didn’t consider anything with her outside of that.

2. the point above ^ is further exacerbated by the fact that az did not give a flying fuck if he killed elain’s MATE. even if elain hasn’t accepted the bond, it would still be extremely painful for her based on what we’ve seen with rhys, feyre, and even rhys’s parents (who weren’t good for each other, yet we saw how rhys’s dad lost it when she died). now of course us lucien lovers know damn well he would never in a million years call a blood duel to try to claim elain (and fuck u rhys for saying that, i usually have your back but come ON you are not the only male who can respect their mate’s autonomy). but az doesn’t know that!? in fact seems to agree with rhys that he could. ppl argue on who would win that fight — my opinion hinges 100% on if powers are fully unleashed but that’s not the point at all. no matter WHO wins, elain is going to feel responsible for someone’s death. of course it wouldn’t be her fault if men decided to be fucking stupid, but with the little we know about elain shows that she would feel so guilty if that happened. but azriel doesn’t seem to give af that anyone fighting to the death over her is the last thing she would ever want. not only did az not think of elain outside his fantasies and therefore not fully care for her, but he doesn’t seem to even KNOW elain in this chapter. now, i could go in on this in acosf as a whole. but i’m keeping it to this chapter alone.

3. and further on THAT point, az doesn’t really give any reasoning on his interest in elain outside of this insane “three brothers/three sisters” thing he fully pulled out of his ass. tbh i almost thing this is sjm’s way of addressing the fan theories on that. now i get it to some extent from az’s pov — seeing his brothers happy with these sisters must fuck with your head after you’d all been bachelors together for 500 years. especially considering how he’s felt unworthy of love his whole life and this seems to support that insecurity of his. i get that it makes him feel ostracized from them, and that he’s now an outlier not being with an archeron. i get that. i do. i sympathize with him here. however that does not change the fact that he isn’t speaking of elain like she’s her own individual here — hell he fully calls her “the other”. i think part of this conversation was him being frazzled, i give him a bit more grace than some do (tho he pissed me off BAD in this scene), but we were fully in this man’s head. did he give us a full reason why he liked elain besides his brother’s mates and his sexual thoughts?? they would’ve at least crossed his mind when rhys was grilling them if sjm was trying to set up her next romance here. as it is, we have literally nothing to imply azriel actually likes elain herself and not the idea of being closer with his brothers.

4. az has kinda a habit of ignoring the reality of the women he’s attracted to in some way. he has his own version of them in his head that he puts on a pedestal. now i could do a whole psych eval on this man and how he thinks he’s unworthy of love and therefore only allows himself to have feelings for women he knows/thinks he can’t have. but to focus on this chapter alone, my points above ^ about how he doesn’t really think of elain outside his fantasies/bringing him closer to his brothers and not really understanding her pretty much wraps it up there. i mean he even talks about how he thinks his scarred hands don’t belong on her because she’s so perfect in his eyes. that’s not love, that’s obsession and it’s unhealthy. he clearly thinks himself below elain and ignores that she has her own flaws too.

5. aaaand i saved the biggest for (almost) last….. GWYN. this is a genuine GENUINE question. why in the fucking hell. would sjm make half the chapter focusing on az & gwyn if she was teasing e/riel. like that makes no sense. not to be annoying and mention chekhov's gun but that idea applies to relationships too. i’m sorry but she couldn’t be more explicit about her future romances. you could argue “oh well it’s because there’s gonna be a love triangle”. y’all. elain has. elain has a mate. there already IS a love triangle. there was absolutely no reason for her to bring gwyn into this chapter other than her preparing us for a future relationship, literally none. especially with all the romantic subtext (hell not even subtext, just TEXT). gwyn getting him to talk about himself so easily when he’s so quiet usually, him taking the idea of making her happy and he “buried the image down deep, where it GLOWED QUIETLY” (which SCREAMS mating bond to me but even if it’s not it’s clearly something he cherishes deeply), the SHADOWSINGERS SHADOWS SANG FOR HER!?

6. the fucking necklace regifting. oh it’s bad. OHHH ITS BAD. when the girls realize it’s gonna be SO messy but im hoping sjm doesn’t go the stupid cat fight route bc neither of them did anything wrong. az did. i’m sorry i’m dunking on him so much in this post i rlly don’t hate him i just think he needs like decades of therapy (which tbf don’t we all) which i unfortunately don’t think sjm is going to give him before giving him his romance. but even the biggest azriel lovers have to admit that this was insanity. a few points on it here. first, if it’s so easily regiftable then it couldn’t have been that well thought out in regards to elain. say what you will about lucien’s gifts, even argue that he gave her jewelry too. but elain was actually shown wearing pearls. az’s gift seemed shallow to me — it was something pretty, and elain’s pretty, and it had a flower, and elain gardens. it’s clear lucien put SO much more thought into his gifts, whether he succeeded or not (which i need to remind y’all — we still don’t know. maybe she liked the gifts maybe she didn’t, but regardless she acted the way she did bc of her feelings about the bond, not the gift). and azriel has spent so much more time with elain than lucien has. if that necklace really felt like elain to him, he could’ve kept it or returned it. but nope. buddy gave it to a whole other girl bc he could easily associate it with someone else. he clearly felt some special pull towards gwyn too, going out of his way to give it to her. he had ONE meaningful conversation with her. i already discussed the quote earlier that makes me think mating bond personally. but no matter what, him giving her the same gift he gave someone he was pursuing romantically is a clear sign of what’s to come (and probably a setup for some sort of drama that i don’t think im mentally ready for).

so there we have it! why i think that the bonus chapter thoroughly proves that e/riel is not going to be endgame. i honestly think it’s possible they might be a thing for a minute (tho i could also see this being the closing of that chapter), but i don’t think it’s going to last. sjm just gave us too many blatant hints that elain and az would NOT work together long term, and that azriel in particular is more suited for someone else. i might’ve missed some points bc there is SO much that goes down in this tiny chapter so lmk if there’s other stuff you picked up on!

[ambivalens999]

hi! really been enjoying your fic! the dynamic between Tom nd Harry is exquisite. the recent smut has me wondering though, because of the way you characterize Harry, is he ever going to call Tom a whore back?

i would really love to see Harry give back as good as he gets in the sexual insults department! I'm kinda confused as to why he doesn't, since he meets Tom head-on in other things.

I also saw you've been writing this fic for 5 whole years? that's fucking amazing! i really admire your dedication to this fic and i'm really glad you've continued to write the fic because it is a freaking masterpiece!

hi anon! great question! so, technically, harry does sort of turn that word back on tom in ch. 25, though perhaps not in the way you mean. leading up to this point in the fic, tom has mostly weaponized the term "whore" to denigrate harry's (very natural) need for human affection / emotional connection -- this is the narrow interpretation that harry weaponizes as well in ch. 25.

only recently has tom actually co-opted "whore" more traditionally (e.g. in dirty talk). in my mind, harry hasn't used that word yet in a sexual context for two main reasons: 1) his mouth was pretty occupied in the latest chapter LOL, 2) harry is less of a talker and more of a doer. To expand on point 2, I think tom could verbalize filthy poetry while having sex, but harry is less interested in name-calling and more interested in seeing tom lose control/autonomy.

in my view, tom's verbal "wins" thus far fall short of what harry achieves by action... but who knows what the future holds! :D

[demxters]

—GLITCH

jake seresin x f!reader (aka star)

top gun maverick au

synopsis: when star moves in to her late grandmother’s beach house, she meets the man of her dreams. the only problem, he’s from seven years in the past and when she meets him in the present, he’s unlike the man she fell in love with. unable to recognize the man in front of her, star takes it upon herself to bring back the man she once knew. the man before hangman. the man that was jake seresin.

series warning(s): 18+, talks about death and grief, swearing, mature content (see individual chapter warnings)

✧ plot and details of this fic are based on the novel “the seven year slip” by ashley poston

✧ part 1

✧ part 2

tgm taglist: @joaquinwhorres @harrycherrylove @smoothdogsgirl @t-nd-rfoot @dempy @ollyoxenfrees @averyhotchner @2guysonascooter @loveforaugust @blue-aconite @fandom-life-12 @stiles-banshees @iamdannyday @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @breezemood @eli2447 @angelbabyange @finelytaylored @pono-pura-vida @hecate-steps-on-me @blueoorchid @aviatorobsessed @blackwidownat2814 @hallecarey1 @averagereader35 @laneylovesglen @atarmychick007 @kajjaka @urfavelocagirl @clancycumber230 @memeorydotcom @kmc1989 @percysaidnever @thestarspangledcaptain @wkndwlff @shanimallina87 @dracosluvbot

[oozebrain]

Slow burn Art X Reader. Reader is ND, has anxiety, and low self esteem. I tried to make the reader gender neutral but there will be instances the reader’s transmasc status comes up.

M rating, warnings will vary from chapter to chapter.

General warnings for this chapter include implied abuse, mention of eating disorders, angst, an instance of a homophobic slur, adult themes, descriptions of starvation, poverty, and food insecurity, and thoughts associated with low self esteem. Minors DNI.

Chapter summary: You receive a great kindness from a strange man you meet in an alley.

“I lean on you, in peace,

Everything stood still, and you You sang to me so softly, You sang to me so softly. In the moonlight I see you in a ditch, In the moonlight you turn into a blue hum, And I thank you for the hope you have given to me, I thank you for the hope...”

Chapter 1

“Am I… am I being fired?” You ask, voice trembling despite your best efforts.

“Yes, this is your last paycheck. I took out what you owe me and left you with two hundred dollars.” Your boss taps on the exact decimal point before handing you your final paystub and check. Two hundred dollars. That’s all you had in the world. Rent was due tomorrow and so was your electric bill. You are descending into hell. You are shell shocked and all you can offer is a polite and awkward goodbye as you part ways for the final time.

Your boss had been waiting on the bench along your usual route to work. You knew when you saw him sitting on that bench with a paper in his hands it wasn’t good news, but you never expected this. And the reasoning behind it...

The reasoning made you feel sick to your stomach. A million questions race through your head and shame floods your face. Once you are out of sight the tears come, the anger, the humiliation. You feel betrayed and hurt, so deeply wounded that you are unsure if you will ever fully recover. You swallow a lump in your throat and snivel as you look down at your phone. You’re going to have to tell people. But what will you say?

Will you admit what you were fired for? It wasn’t bad enough just eating trash. No, not only that, but your love interest had thrown you under the bus and accused you of harassment. For a year he has flirted with you regularly, and loved driving you wild. He’s felt you up discreetly while the two of you worked together and he always found a thrill in breaking the rules. You were only wanted when it was a secret.

As seemed to be your norm, your status as a trans man made the situation messy. In your heart, you knew he was ashamed of his feelings for you. In his shame, he denied any interest in you. You felt as though he had forsaken you and your heart was broken. But still, you took the fall to protect him so he would not lose his management position. Of course he would not claim you and out himself as being attracted to “a faggot”, as your coworkers had put it. He said he loved you but his true love was his reputation.

You aren’t worth it. You never were.

You duck into an alley as a place of solace, just somewhere quiet and dark to put the pieces together. You had no food in your home, nor have you in a little over two months. You work in the food service industry and the smells, the sights, the sounds...

Your stomach cramps again at the mere thought of food. You manage to stave off a dry heaving spell and rest against the cool brick wall. You feel small, insignificant, and like you’ve been kicked while you were down. Despite the rapid weight loss, the dizziness, the headaches, they all looked the other way. You knew that they knew but they were not required to help, they were merely your coworkers.

Still, you feel betrayed that one of your crew saw you saving food dropped on the ground instead of throwing it away. It was regarded as theft in everyone’s eyes and the coworker had purposefully done it to be rid of you. This wasn’t paranoia or anxiety, it was just the hard truth of what life was like in the adult world, a world you struggled to navigate.

After a few moments reprieve you are faced with a decision: what can I do?

Dejection overcomes you. What can you do? Can you do anything? No, you know you can’t do anything right, something that has been drilled into your head every day for as long as you can remember. Tears come again and you walk further down the alley, further away from the sounds of traffic and passersby. You don’t want anyone to see you like this.

You’re starving, exhausted, and unmedicated. In addition to food, you’ve had to forgo your medication and the withdrawal still wasn’t easing up. You have to take your medicine with food and that hasn’t exactly been an option. You’ve barely been able to keep it together to go and work a twelve hour shift. Today would have been your second week in a row without a break.

‘At least I finally get a day off I guess.’ You think to yourself as you wipe your eyes with your sleeve. You take your glasses off to clean them and find yourself tripping over something solid. With a thud, you and the ground collide.

Collecting yourself, you stumble to your feet and adjust your glasses to your face. Turning around, your heart flutters in fear as you realize you’ve not just tripped over something, you’ve tripped over someone. His attention was fully on you as he stared at you with a stoic expression. Was he upset?

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there. Are… are you alright? Are you hurt? Im so sorry. Are you okay?” You inquire nervously, your words coming out a befuddled torrent of noise. The thought you’ve done something wrong again stabs you in the heart and as the knife twists you feel tears return to your eyes. No, not here. You don’t want people to see you sniveling and snotting around, “I’m sorry I... it’s been a really hard day. I hope I didn’t hurt your leg.”

Strangely, he offered no response. He was a thin, tall man, about six foot and dressed like a mime. Or perhaps he was a clown. Regardless, his clothes were dirty and the makeup on his face smeared to reveal the sections of the person underneath. The most striking thing about him was his eyes and you found yourself unable to meet them. Staring down a lion would be easier than meeting his gaze.

His lack of response revs up your anxiety a few more notches. You avert your eyes to the ground shyly, a prickle of humiliation creeping up your neck and spreading over your cheeks. Your ears burned hotly. Was he angry with you? What would he do to you? Did you hurt his feelings? Did you break his leg? Did this ruin his life? You ruin everything else, after all, don’t you?

‘Look at what you’ve done you stupid bitch’ the words often bespoke to you frantically cycle through your head.

The unrelenting hurricane of thoughts halt when out from the mutual silence, your stomach grumbles angrily. Its a miserable sound, different than an ordinary stomach pang. You grip your stomach and involuntarily double over slightly, a strained grunt of pain escaping you. It was as though you could feel your stomach shriveling up and imploding on itself. It screamed at you for something, anything, besides water and garbage.

Your forehead broke out in a sweat and you steadied yourself on a nearby pallet. You find yourself apologizing again and try to minimize, “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well. I’m not contagious, just stomach problems.”

He watched you for a good minute before he started rummaging in an oversize black trash bag next to him. The man said nothing as the heavy plastic crinkled loudly. His mouth was slightly agape and his eyebrows raised as he peered inside, clearly on a mission to find something specific. After a moment he withdrew... a sandwich?

The speed and ferocity in which he thrust it out to you made you start slightly. It was as though he meant to throw it to you but stopped just short of actually doing it. You were dumbfounded. He was offering you food? But out of the trash, of course. How ironic.

However, it was in its original packaging, he hadn’t made it himself, so it was probably safe...

Your stomach growls again and the nausea overtakes you. Though you are ravenous, the thought of food is simultaneously sickening. You fumble slightly in your stance and grip your stomach painfully. The last time you’d eaten was four days ago, and right now a sandwich from a gas station that had been in a stranger’s garbage bag of curiosities was looking pretty good right now. It was either this or go another day hungry.

“Th-thank you...” You close the distance and tentatively take the packaged sandwich from him. He lowers his hand but continues to watch you. You can’t tell what’s going on behind those shark-like eyes of his, but he’s calculating something. It unnerves you, as though this is some sort of trap, yet still he makes no move to come towards you. He is still and silent like a statue.

A part of you goaded it was all just one step in his plan to overpower you. This city was not known for its inviting community. Still, at this moment, you did not get that impression. Instead, you notice something else. He seems overly comfortable sitting among the rubbish and disarray, as though this is a common occurrence for him, and it makes you wonder if perhaps he is homeless. A feeling of empathy and concern washes over you. He was so gaunt; he was starving too.

Though you were without food, at least you had a home. Taking food away from someone in a more difficult position than you seemed... greedy. Your anxiety ramped up at the thought of essentially taking food out of his mouth. At least have a look inside…

You open the cardboard packaging and the smell hits you like a brick to the face. Cajun roasted turkey breast, provolone cheese, tomato, some kind of fancy aioli, and greens, all on a seasoned ciabatta roll. You want to tear into it like a rabid animal but still yourself. You salivate so much you can feel it drip from your lip. You wipe your mouth on your sleeve with a hint of shame and look to him sheepishly.

“Here.” Withdrawing one of the halves, you hold it out to your gracious host. His eyebrows furrow, he frowns, and it appears it is his turn to be dumbfounded. You nudge it at him, “I don’t feel right taking it all from you, so let’s share. I think we could both use a bite to eat.”

With hesitation, he takes the sandwich and holds it, but makes no motion to eat. You, however, cannot stand the hunger anymore and, with restraint, take a small bite of your sandwich half. It makes your jaws and teeth ache sharply at the cold texture and invitation of something that has become foreign. Another small bite here and there… and then you break. You chomp, tear, and devour. You wolf it down in a matter of four bites, nearly choking at the speed and quantity of which you were eating.

You knew he was watching you but you didn’t care; you were starving and this was ambrosia. This was your salvation. Something primal within you awakened and you could not eat fast enough.

You stuff your mouth so full you cannot fully close it to chew and end up swallowing pieces whole. You ate through the nausea as your stomach tried to expel the contents and forced it back down. All you had been eating for the past week were ketchup packets and honeysuckle flowers. Finally, something sustainable, something edible, something safe. Something not dropped on the floor or left in the trash. Real food. It is less than a minute before you are licking the residual mustard and crumbs off your fingers.

After your hunger fueled trance you once again pay attention to your companion. You feel ashamed, less than. You feel as though you are a beast in human skin and shrink away some. You expect him to laugh at you or call you names, but it never comes. In fact, nothing ever does. He remains quiet, posture so still he could be mistaken for a mannequin.

He still has not eaten his sandwich and has been staring at you this entire time. The man gazes at you with a look of... what was that look? His face held a strange expression. It wasn’t disgust, it was something else. His mouth was slightly agape, showing his darkened yellow teeth.

You felt a strange kinship with him because of his teeth. Yours, too, were in a state of disrepair. Past years of daily vomiting and smoking had not been kind to you and, to top it off, you had not been able to afford toothpaste. You hadn’t brushed your teeth in a month and had several cavities and a broken molar. It didn’t help you’d been uninsured for two years. You felt like he wouldn’t judge you and you offered him a nervous smile, showing your teeth.

His lip curled into a sneering smile to mirror you. He was studying you so critically you wondered if he could reach into the depths of your soul and read it like a tangible object. It was strange, scary, and disconcerting. His look held no malice that you could perceive, but it was still unreadable and therefore unnerving. Whatever look he was giving you, you hoped to your god that it wasn’t pity.

“Thank you. I was just... I guess I was hungrier than I realized! Uh… Oh, um, If you need to charge your phone, the gas station nearby has charging ports, and the corner store gives you free ice water if you’re thirsty after you eat your sandwich.” You offer this knowledge in an attempt to be helpful but also change the subject. His expression doesn't change, his gaze is transfixed on the half of a sandwich clutched in his dirty hand. Slowly, he looks back up at you, eyes burning with curiosity, but at what you were uncertain.

You feel immediately uncomfortable. This is already a place you know you shouldn’t be, and a situation that you shouldn’t be in. Being eyed up and down by a strange man in an alley sounded like the start of a true crime podcast. Though you were seeking an exit, that was not the kind you were seeking.

You clear your throat to find your voice and offer a brief, polite, smile, “Thank you. Um, I’m sorry, I have to get going soon. But, thank you, again. My name is (y/n). It’s nice to meet you.”

He held his hand up as though to speak, lips parted but instead he drew shapes in the air with his pointer finger. No, they weren’t random shapes, they were letters. A…R…

“Art?” You ask and he nods joyfully with a wide, tooth filled smile spread across his face. You return his smile, be it with less enthusiasm, and feel yourself relax a little, “It’s good to meet you, Art. Are you ok? Did I hurt you?”

He waved you off and made a theatrically nonchalant expression before pointing to himself and then giving two thumbs up in response. You give a small smile again and finger spell his name in ASL. Art looks at you with confusion, miming you awkwardly, and you offer an explanation with every letter you make, “A-R-T. That’s how you spell your name in sign language.”

He gives a wide eyed ‘a ha!’ expression and repeated the letters with his fingers time and time again. He seemed enthralled with this new information and looked at you, expecting more. You weren’t opposed to talking to him, but you needed to get home. Now that you had relief from your hunger you were starting to get groggy.

Art waves at you to grab your attention and he points to himself then you before drawing a question mark in the air. After he repeated the motion a few times you realized he was asking how to spell your name and you happily showed him. He frantically signed both your and his names, his fingers flying furiously. Was this the first time he’s heard of sign language? Surely not… but the way he acted…

What a lonesome existence.

You were lonely too, and felt a connection with him. You offered a polite smile as your anxiety returned with a ventence at the idea of being alone, but it had to be done. Your body was screaming for rest. “I have to get going Art, thank you so much. Will you be here tomorrow?”

He smiled and nodded enthusiastically, the little hat he wore bobbling and wobbling around with each shake of his head. Art patted the ground where he was, indicating he would be right here in this very spot. The smile he showed you felt… warm? Perhaps excited, giddy even. Was he really that happy to know you? It made something in your chest flutter nervously. You were apprehensive of everyone after today, but if Art had bad intentions he could have well acted on them by now. You were curious about your new friend, and the idea of seeing him again evoked a flicker of happiness in your chest.

“Well, I’ll come by and see you tomorrow, okay?” Your response earned a joyful applause from him. He batted his eyelashes at you and gave you a playful wave goodbye and you couldn’t help but offer him a genuine smile which only made his own grow. You mirror his playful wave as you begin to leave, “See you later, Art! Be safe!”

You turn and leave, his wide smile lingering in your mind as the distance between the two of you grows. You look behind you to see if he is following, but there is no one. it seemed like he was a decent guy who was down on his luck, a similar position to your own. Perhaps this could be the start of a new friendship. You didn’t have faith you’d find him tomorrow, but you did have hope.

[fickledame]

When The World Falls - Veronica Mars Fic

I have a new fic! The first three chapters are up. It's complete and will be posted regularly.

Just over 35k words.

Summary:

The Hemora Virus is tearing through the world causing chaos. With the world falling apart, the last person Logan expects to see is Veronica Mars when only months after their messy breakup, she shows up at his mansion with nowhere else to go.

How will the two navigate their relationship while surviving a world spiralling out of control? Secrets, longing, and unresolved feelings threaten to boil over as they’re forced to rely on each other in ways they never expected. Will it break them apart for good - or prove that some connections are impossible to sever?

Set very early season two. Paring:

Veronica/Logan Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6jW9W2rWAk7ogobN1BHJFD?go=1&sp_cid=9a90390993276a14368b1624ca8db8bf&utm_source=embed_player_p&utm_medium=desktop&nd=1&dlsi=fa0882974d9a4b3c

[sportspuckball]

Currently reading the whole addie serie, i’m only at the u15 year 1 part, but i wanted to say that i really really love your work!! Kinda shy so i didn’t want to leave a comment straight up but i did want to let you know how much I’m enjoying it all anyways, just anonymously :)

it’s funny but deep at the same time and the characters are all so well constructed!! I mean, i know they’re not actually characters or anything (except for like addie & friends) but you know what i mean. Like you characterize them well i mean.

The whole series is so fun, reading a chapter or two every day before bed & everything!!

saying that bc i was reading and this one passage made me laugh so hard (“Which fast food place are we eating our nerves at?” Leon asked the car. Addie voted for A&W, Matthew for McDonald’s, and Taryn asked how far the nearest Chipotle was. Leon promptly pulled into a Domino’s and they all babbled over each other to ask why he bothered to ask them when he was always going to go there.”) and i had no one to talk to about it and then i remembered you were on tumblr and i could just directly tell you how much i’m appreciating it all and i know i’m not the only one so thanks a lot!!!

also thank you for not letting the mattdrai fandom die, some of us just got into it nd stuff and it’s sad when you realize a fandom is dead right after you joined it and got invested yk?

First of all, I am totally safe to chat to, I promise! I only bite with prior consent. I know commenting can be so hard, so thanks for summoning the bravery to message me here! I like it just as much so we can chat back and forth - I believe fandom is communal and I want to hear thoughts/feelings/ideas that are kind and made of good faith as much as possible.

(Which yours certainly is)

So second of all, OHMYGOSH THANK YOU for your lovely words! Typing alone in cafes and airplanes is often so weird and it means the world to know that all of the proverbial blood, sweat, and tears are worth it.

I'm delighted for you that you have so much ahead of you! I'm sure some readers are clapping with glee for you on where the journey is about to head. My Dadthew Support Network and I are always hard at work to make sure the things I'm building now match the things we're building for the future.

And 'characterizing them well' is exactly what I'm going for. I have created these folks out of scraps of gossip, really, but I want them to be consistent to who they are within each piece. I don't write them as smarmy assholes to each other - not because they're not, but because I can't seem to be able to, lol!

In terms of the fandom - I'm new here, too. I just started writing Mattdrai in the middle of July last year! I'm hoping that this final and then the Olympics is going to feed so much more nonsense. In the meantime, I have a WIP list about 10 fics long and people add to it all the time, so I'm not going any where anytime soon.

Thanks again, I can't wait to see how you feel about other bits of the story.