#also i struggled with how to start this chapter

[nofilterwaterfilter]

also on the voice thing, we all know kris is one of the most autism coded characters to ever exist, but i really do love everything that both routes of chapter four when taken in conjunction told us about kris, being nonverbal, and how that's not painted as a bad thing?

it's pretty common i've seen for silent protagonists to be headcanoned as nonverbal autistic, but i think this is the first time i've seen it be explicitly canon, and also have it be pretty intrinsic to the narrative?

and like no, kris isn't entirely nonverbal, they do speak occasionally. but deltarune in general, and particularly ch4, paints a very strong picture of someone who (at least when they have control over their own voice) does not use words as their primary method of communication

like you can start with quiet people piss me off, or the fact that music is such an important avenue of self expression for them (made all the worse when they're not in control). noelle in ch1 asks if kris is okay when the player asks her the same background/lore questions we can ask everyone, because kris talking this much pings immediately as wrong to her. then there's everything we know about kris as a kid, and how yeah they had a bit of a mean sense of humor, but also pranks and fucking with people was a very good way for them to get attention without having to talk at all

noelle's story of the ferris wheel if you listen to all her and susie's dialogue in dess' room sticks out to me for this, and i really do love that anecdote. noelle mentions she and kris were pushed into riding the ferris wheel together as kids, she didn't really want to be there. and kris didn't say anything the whole time, for the first half they were just looking out the window. but then they decided to jump up and down and shake the entire capsule, and that's when they turned to noelle and smiled. susie goes "is that good or bad?" in response to that story and noelle says she doesn't know, but it's one of the things that gets kris' attention! and whether you believe that they were doing it to freak noelle out or because they also thought this was dumb and wanted to make it more fun for both of them (noelle isn't sure which it was either), that is how they communicate!

and when they do use words. this is the bit that makes me most emotional - noelle in weird route describes kris' voice as deadpan and mumbly. they don't like being loud, they don't talk very often, and they really struggle with inflection. all things that are normally criticisms when directed at autistic people, they're stuff autism moms use to justify their "i know my real child is in there somewhere" bullshit. but when noelle hears it again from soulless kris for the first time since the soul stuff started, she starts crying over how much she's missed hearing them talk. the soul (as we know from a variety of susie and noelle conversations) is louder, more charismatic, more confident and articulate, and it's not kris. so all those traits that are normally things autistic people get told to be more, are explicitly condemned by the narrative

and that's what makes kris being largely nonverbal such an excellent additional dimension to their story. because everything the soul does, at least in the normal routes, pretty much aligns with how people are expected to behave? kris under our control has a great social life, has friends, is likeable, isn't weird and hard to understand. and a crueler person, the kind autistic people have to deal with far too often, would say "well it's good we gave them a voice, they're not using theirs anyway"

but that's what makes it evil! it doesn't matter if kris is the kind of autistic that everyone hates, if there are things about them that don't fit in with society but that they either can't or don't want to change. their life and their voice, as infrequently heard as it is, is still theirs. and they deserve the freedom to use it however they want to

[themosscycle]

Kralsei is so interesting

Internet will always have shitty takes (me seeing on twitter that Ralsei is being manipulative and evil after chapter 4 😩)

But it’s so much better now for the most part. I ship Kralsei.

I love the Angst, the yearning and also what it means for both of them. When Ralsei distances from what he was meant to be, and the purpose he is meant to serve… You can see that Kris likes him more and more. When Ralsei humanizes himself and expresses himself Kris is able to connect with him.

When Kris goes out of our control and expresses themselves, Ralsei also grows to appreciate them more. It’s like… their bond can help both of them to get out from the bad parts of themselves.

If the theories are true and Ralsei was originated as Kris “perfect” fursona (or monstersona I guess??), being loved by that version of yourself that was originated by your own self-hate and lack of acceptance is healing.

Seeing that person alss struggling to fit into that idealized role you gave them, and being imperfect, humanized and failed and be able to love him is also healing. Kris obviously will see Ralsei more as his own person if Ralsei steps out from the “perfect monster” act they projected into Ralsei… assuming somehow they created or originated them.

Ralsei on the other hand… will start to allow himself to feel, to express, to be messy, bitchy etc… and seeing Kris accepting and loving that will heal Ralsei too.

Their friendship or situationship or whatever they are gonna be in game it’s gonna be peak!! It’s already peak!! Even if Ralsei was originated for the version of themselves Kris wanted to be…

Ralsei is not Kris so is also not really self-ship… Ralsei even if he was originated in that way, it’s his own person.

It’s not another version of Kris, because it’s like what Kris felt they needed to be, but in that way Kris made Ralsei in a way that it’s totally different to how they are if that makes sense?

Ralsei’s arc is about finding out who he is, building a new identity, personality and all he feels happy with.

[freyafrida]

rilla of ingleside, chapter three

this turned out to be a long one bc i can't shut up about these kids lmao

This is probably the chapter I've reread the most! After hearing about the Blythe-Meredith kids from the gossipy ladies in chapter one, and meeting Rilla, Walter, and Miss Oliver in chapter two, the war generation all finally shows up in this chapter, and we get a sense of them from the way they talk and interact on the way to the lighthouse dance. Since it's the only pre-war chapter featuring all the kids, I find myself rereading it a lot for fanfic personality/relationship references, haha.

“The latter had come over from Lowbridge the previous evening and had been prevailed upon to remain for the dance at the Four Winds lighthouse the next night.”

Sometimes I forget that Gertrude is meant to be living in Lowbridge for parts of the book because she's at Ingleside all the time anyway lmao.

“It’s my first really-truly grown-up party, Miss Oliver, and I’ve just lain awake at nights for a week thinking it over. ”

Something about this sentence reads so much like young Anne to me (maybe the phrasing of "really-truly"); despite Anne's concern over Rilla's lack of ambition, Rilla is her mother's daughter in that sense of dreaminess and earnest excitement over things she loves.

Inch restingly, it seems like Rilla turns fifteen between this chapter and the last (last chapter was June, she's turning fifteen next month, it's now August, per the events of the chapter and Walter's description of "How beautiful the old Glen was, in its August ripeness"). I have thoughts about this bc I was wrestling with her birthday in a fic and realized -- the book doesn't recognize her birthday at all, not in the four years it spans. You'd think Rilla would've had a fifteenth birthday party before the war, at least, but it doesn't appear so. I don't think Anne has a proper birthday party ever, either, although she's mentioned to attend one or two over the course of the series.

“Of course Carl and Jerry can’t dance because they’re the minister’s sons, or else I could depend on them to save me from utter disgrace.”

Carl swooping in to save Rilla from utter disgrace!!! LMM why can't you let me have these things 😭 (Also, I realize they must see each other often, given that they're from two close families in a small town, but I have to admit I find it hard to believe that Jerry even knows Rilla exists.)

Disappointingly for the Rilla/Carl agenda, the bit abut Jerry and Carl not being able to dance was not in the original draft, per Readying Rilla -- instead, it says "but they're just like my brothers and I'll feel they're only doing it out of charity." LMM sniping me from beyond the grave 😩 Also curious if LMM like...forgot that minister's children shouldn't dance, or if it was more of an expectation that not everyone followed, and she made the decision to use it as a reason. (The bit about it feeling like charity is applied to Gertrude feeling that way about Jem and Walter dancing with her instead -- also, it's initially written that Jem and Jerry will take her out, but Jerry is crossed out and replaced with Walter, presumably due to the above edit.)

“I tried to draw back—and I saw that the edge of my dress was wet with blood—and I woke—shivering. I don’t like the dream. There was some sinister significance in it. That kind of vivid dream always ‘comes true’ with me.”

@batrachised pointed out that Gertrude's (I'm going to start calling her Gertrude instead of Miss Oliver because otherwise I'm going to keep going back and forth weirdly) dreams were actually based on LMM's, which, fair enough! That very much tracks with how seriously (almost) everyone takes Gertrude's visions. Idk -- I'm struggling to articulate why it comes off as almost laughably melodramatic to me -- because the war and death do come to Ingleside and touch our characters, and the shattering of their idyllic world is devastating to them (as it was to LMM); it's not as though her dream is wrong, necessarily. Maybe it's just the benefit of hindsight -- like Gertrude's going on about waves of blood on their shores and I'm just in the future like, "maybe you should save some of the dramatics because it's going to get so much worse." (Buuut I am also melodramatic and superstitious so maybe I just do not like looking in this mirror 😔)

“I think the party promises to be pleasant for young fry. I expect to be bored. None of those boys will bother dancing with an old maid like me. Jem and Walter will take me out once out of charity. There will be nobody for me even to talk to. So you can’t expect me to look forward to it with your touching young rapture.”

lmao jesus christ Gertrude. It's especially funny that she says this while also saying that she wants Rilla to have the "splendid, happy" girlhood that she didn't. Let her live then!!! (Also funny that Cousin Sophia is being portrayed as doom and gloom when she says stuff like this, while Gertrude is ~alluringly moody~)

And of course, the war is starting to become a concern for everyone except Rilla -- Dr. Blythe, Jem, and Walter are mentioned to be poring over the paper (none of the girls, even with their interests in 'ologies and 'isms, seem to care -- which sadly tracks, see Anne basically refusing to have a political opinion in House of Dreams. Gertrude, in fairness, is following the war news and mentions it to Rilla). It's interesting that part of the honor in fighting, for Jem, is entwined with defending the British Empire, considering it a family that they're a part of. Iiii...haven't developed any deep thoughts on this, lmao, I've always sort of taken it at face value that Jem -- and Ken, later -- feel this way as Anglo Dudes From 1914, particularly as there is a streak of...insularity, perhaps, in the books re: Anglo Canada. (But it is equally interesting that later on, characters express that they're fighting for Canada instead, not Britain.)

Walter's reaction to the war is telling -- he not only hates the idea (also, lol/sigh that they're just too civilized in the modern age of the twentieth century to go to war) but is kind of in denial about it, refusing to think of it and trying to distract himself with beautiful things.

“Mary Vance is a habit of ours—we can’t do without her even when we are furious with her,” Di Blythe had once said.”

I suppose it says a lot about Mary's character and general self-confidence/lack of self-awareness that she hangs out with people who talk about her like this, because I would not, lol.

“Carl Meredith was walking with Miranda Pryor, more to torment Joe Milgrave than for any other reason.”

LMAO what did Joe Milgrave ever do to Carl? I can't quite make out what this says about Carl -- it doesn't really jive with any of his behavior in Rainbow Valley; he doesn't particularly enjoy getting a rise out of people (e.g. in the chapter where he's not whipped, he feels bad over throwing the eel in the buggy; in the rest of the book, he's almost like, blissfully unaware that his various critters freak other people out). I suppose you could read him as being a bit competitive, or simply that he still enjoys mildly teasing people (which makes his friendship with Rilla pretty funny, given that being teased harrows her soul). Of course, worth mentioning that there's also not much evidence that Rilla and Carl are still close at this point :(

“Shirley Blythe was with Una Meredith and both were rather silent because such was their nature. Shirley was a lad of sixteen, sedate, sensible, thoughtful, full of a quiet humour. He was Susan’s “little brown boy” yet, with his brown hair, brown eyes and clear brown skin. He liked to walk with Una Meredith because she never tried to make him talk or badgered him with chatter. ”

Shirley being the personification of that "best friend I ever had, we still never talk sometimes" Parks and Rec quote, lol. The summation of him is so good, though -- despite what a nonentity he is compared to the other Blythe kids, you get such a good measure of him just from "sedate, sensible, thoughtful, full of a quiet humour." ❤️ I always go back and forth on the possibility of shipping him with Una -- it's lovely that Shirley appreciates her for who she is, that he likes that she's quiet and unassuming. On the other hand, like...what, do they never talk? Lmao. (Una also strikes me as having a bit of...repressed emotion, see her bottling things up and telling them to her mother's old wedding dress as a child, idk that Shirley would be able to draw that out of her...? But he is thoughtful and wholesome, so, maybe!)

“Una was as sweet and shy as she had been in the Rainbow Valley days, and her large, dark-blue eyes were as dreamy and wistful. She had a secret, carefully-hidden fancy for Walter Blythe which nobody but Rilla ever suspected. ”

MY GIRL \O/ I've seen it said that it seems unlikely that no one but Rilla suspects Una's feelings for Walter, but I actually quite like it -- it hints at Rilla actually being empathetic and perceptive under her frivolity, which she'll grow into over the war.

“She liked Una better than Faith, whose beauty and aplomb rather overshadowed other girls—and Rilla did not enjoy being overshadowed.”

Lol, it is very on-brand for early Rilla to feel she's in competition with Faith -- and I'm sure Faith doesn't think about Rilla at all, being 4-5 years older than her. (That said, I sympathize with Rilla not being a Faith enjoyer -- even though she's set up as getting into Anne-like scrapes in RV, the books lean a little too hard on how charming and intelligent and beautiful she is; she loses the flawed, earnestly trying vibe that made Anne endearing imo.) (Also, I love Rilla and Una, but it cracks me up that Rilla basically just likes Una better because she doesn't see her as a threat.)

“ bell was ringing in the little church over-harbour and the lingering dream-notes died around the dim, amethystine points. The gulf beyond was still silvery blue in the afterlight. Oh, it was all glorious—the clear air with its salt tang, the balsam of the firs, the laughter of her friends.”

I haven't been mentioning the nature descriptions because I don't really have anything to say about them other than they're lovely! Such a good sense of those moments when you're just happy, everything around you feels beautiful and you don't mind your problems in that moment -- and of course, the moment here is poised to be shattered very shortly.

“And how humanity responds to the ideal of self-sacrifice!”

Oooooh the foreshadowing! Also a very good summation of the theme of this book, in general -- there are other moments later that I think illustrate it more clearly so I won't go on too much about it now, but -- yeah, there's such a sense in this book of trying to understand and justify the pain of the war as a worthwhile sacrifice.

“We know the real charm of night here as town dwellers never do.”

Hey, leave us town dwellers out of it >:( (I do have a city girl story of visiting family out in the country when I was twelve, and being shocked by how dark it actually got at night, lmao.)

“Rilla flushed. It did not matter to her if Kenneth Ford walked home with Ethel Reese a dozen times—it did not! Nothing that he did mattered to her. He was ages older than she was. He chummed with Nan and Di and Faith, and looked upon her, Rilla, as a child whom he never noticed except to tease.”

First mention of Ken! The funniest bit about this is that his name was originally "Selwyn", and the first like 2/3rds of Readying Rilla have every single mention of him written as "Selwyn Ken". Anyway -- there's kiiiind of a set up for Rilla and Ken here; he teases her and she hates it while secretly liking/wanting more of his attention. There's a short story in TBAQ that adds on to this (honestly, it reads a bit like it's still trying to explain Rilla/Ken twenty years later lmao) -- it mentions that Ken and Rilla fought a lot as children, implying that he liked getting a rise out of her, sort of in a "pulling on her pigtails" kind of way. (Also, again, Nan and Di are set apart from Rilla here 👀)

some stuff from the glossary (minor frustration, the glossary isn't footnoted and is in alphabetical order, so you just kinda have to flip through it and try to remember what each entry is referencing):

More Readying Rilla bits:

After Rilla mentions that Jem and Faith will sit out on the rocks all evening, the next sentence starts with "They're", which is then crossed out and Rilla just starts talking about sailing to the lighthouse. While I'm sure it wasn't a big deal, it reads like someone being cut off right before saying something juicy lmao, tell meeee the Jem/Faith gossip

The line about Rilla being the only one unaware of the worry over the war originally said "only Rilla and Susan", lmao.

Miranda Pryor's name was originally Jennie.

Shirley's originally described as being "full of humor and quiet fun" (instead of "full of a quiet humor"), which does read as something a bit different to me -- the final version makes him sound like more like a quietly amused observer than someone that actually gets into hijinks.

Re: Rilla's silver slippers, the book says that Mrs. Ford (Leslie) sent them to her. The original draft says "Jean gave", which like...who tf is Jean?

[mogruith]

Now that I'm home, I need to add @majorasnightmare's tags to the post:

#i can imagine being chosen to play lolth would itself constitute a THREAT#YOU CANT GET A MORE EXPLICIT ''SET UP TO FAIL'' THAN THAT#so you might even get your political RIVALS put into the position#which inversely gives them the oppurtunity to triumph above you and your schemes#in a ploy im sure lolth adores from both ends#because that dynamic entertains her no matter what#its also a fairly safe move politically too#if your rival fails she displeases lolth and is killed badly for it#however if your rival succeeds youve technically brought great honor and esteem to the web mother!#ITS SO GOOD!!!!

I wanna add these to the post 'cause they're an excellent addition. 10/10 love the idea that setting up to play Lolth would be a death trap by itself with the promise of unmatched glory - and who knows it might result in more than just favor among your people.

Some other things I'm throwing in that are tangential is the sound of it. Namely how strange (to us, the audience) it sounds.

Here's a brief description of drow music for reference:

Perhaps the strangest of drow art forms is their music. The children of Lolth enjoy strange, prolonged, wavering sounds that other races consider unappealing or even uncomfortable. These often seem atonal at first, but when combined through the proper techniques they produce a symphony of alien, haunting appeal. The dark elves possess a variety of unique instruments, including the vazhan-do, a complex lute with sixty-four strings that can be plucked swiftly for a torrent of notes, or bent slowly, producing a ghostly wail; and the ezhirkiri, a wind instrument that transforms the air blowing through it into the sound of agonized, yet strangely melodic, shrieks. Drow of the Underdark - p. 29

And there's a scene from Daughter of the Drow that describes an elaborate dance with magical enhancements:

All eyes were upon her as she began to stamp a rhythmic counterpoint to the drum. Her arms started an intricate weave, and one by one other drums joined in, as well as strange percussion instruments known only to the drow. Then a deep-voiced flute began to play a strange, compelling tune, a melody that had once been sung by elves in the Lands of Light, many centuries past. Those long-dead elves would not recognize their song; its fey magic had shifted and changed to reflect the beings who now played it. Beautiful still, the music retained all of the mystery of the elven race, and none of the joy. The drow had forgotten that emotion. But they understood pleasure, and they would pursue it wildly in an attempt to fill the unrecognized void in their elven souls. Daughter of the Drow - Chapter 5

Strange, atonal, alien, haunting. A ghostly wail and agonized, melodic shrieks. Ancient elven song that's now joyless. I think A LOT about what Drow music sounds like and I never have a good answer to this. But I think this paints a pretty good picture, at least conceptually. But I would struggle to offer up a concrete example of what exactly that sounds like.

The brain worm today is drow opera.

Yeah. Yeah, you read that right. Drow opera. [is this a thing already? If not it should be]

I've talked about Coranzan being musically inclined thanks to his mother's instruction and that he was an actor doing propaganda pieces for a while.

So naturally... My brain went to opera as a cross section of those things and now I'm obsessed with the idea. I am putting Coran in there for his pre-Surface days.

It's the perfect venue for entertainment, propaganda, political showmanship and positioning, grandeur, and not to mention the absolute sadism possible as a part of it. For the audience and the singers.

I might yap about this little by little over the day as I find pockets of time.

But. TLDR Wagner. Absolutely Wagner.

[51nn0n]

Good lord! My favorite scene!

[astyr-art]

i have once again jumped to a new fandom LMAO ya bois gettin into BATMAN. i bought the arkham trilogy on steam a lil while ago when they were on sale, and i also bought a couple of comics. but so far ive only played through asylum and only read year one cuz ive been too busy just stalking the batman tag on here LOL

ANYWAY this is my attempt at figuring out how i wanna draw bruce. tbh im not 100% sold on how ive drawn his face but i do think this is how ill be drawing the suit! i wanted to put my own spin on it while still taking inspo from official designs and i like where i landed here (ovo)b

[bunnieswithknives]

sorry if idk this but what do you think about Wordgirl now in 2024 do you still like it do you still want to make art or talk about it or are you just done with all of it forever and plus i seen that you haven't made art of it since 2022 so you just done with all of it oh yeah and what about The Magnus Archives + Wordgirl ao3 fic too like is that just going to be and i know that your working on 2 au's now just wanting to know that's all

My interests tend to come in intense bursts and then fade. Unless something like, big happens like it gets a reboot its unlikely I'll be coming back to it anytime soon. As for the fic I don't have any current plans to finish it unfortunately.

[clegfly]

Small thing I’m cooking for idksomethingclever99’s fic MITPP!! For some reason I’m having trouble tagging them but here’s the fic!!

This seemed fun to do… probably won’t get more done than this page though…

[seventh-district]

several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold

[fantasticalleigh]

WIP GAME!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigued them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Lol this is where I get caught out for being unorganized as fuck

I was tagged by @rogueimperator ! I'm gonna borrow your idea of breaking this down by fandom

Harry Potter: Dramione

Sweet Sacrifice

Dhr Mff entry: (this is the original file I wrote the Sweet Sacrifice one-shot in. As we all know I couldn't leave well enough alone and I became so obsessed with the story I kept writing for it and now it's over 300 pages and messyyyy. I got scared of it crashing so I started dividing chapters into their own files again lol

SS chapter 11 (no title yet)

SS future chapter ideas

What We Know of War (technically abandoned for now though I would love to revisit it some day)

Chapters 1-8 all in one file (I abbreviate it to be faster WWKOW)

Bridgerton: Penelope Featherington/Colin Bridgerton (aka Polin)

Gently Bred

*All in one file again, loosely divided into suggested chapter cutoffs but nothing concrete yet.

Star Wars: Reylo

Untitled so far

*Medieval Reylo fic. All in one page again but not enough material for one chapter yet.

Genuinely don't know who to tag for this but if you see this and want to do your own PLEASE feel free! I am shamefully unaware of how many writers are among you and would love to hear about your WIPs. <3

[cyborg-hydra-girl-thing]

the more you harass me about doing something the more stubborn i am about doing it.

i said i’d do it, i will do it. as soon as i’m capable.

no i don’t like what i’m doing either and am actively trying to be better. just fuckin hear me when i say i’m trying

[thinkinonsense]

Sit Still｡𖦹°‧

—gif credit: not mine!! i can't remember where i found it but if i can find it again or the owner comments, ill add their username <3

logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: cockwarming (sorta?), innocence kink, p in v, logan attempts to teach reader how to ride.

a/n: apologies for this being so short but chapter two of bewitched should be out friday or saturday! also i'll be responding to some requests soon too in case i spam lmao

"a-are you sure 'bout this, lo?"

your timid voice echos around the bedroom, capturing logan's attention again. he's been dreaming for months of this sight in front of him; you sitting pretty in his lap, only wearing a pink lacy bra and a pair of matching panties.

"you want me to make you feel good, right sweetheart?"

a small sigh escapes you as you attempt to grind onto him again. logan places his large hands on your waist to stop you from wiggling around. he knows you can't help it, you're still new to this after all.

it started a month ago when you and logan were left alone together in the mansion. everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away. you were recovering from a cold and logan simply didn't want to chaperone. instead, he offered to stay back with you.

late one evening, he came in to check on you and ask if there was anything you needed. that's when you asked him the question that nearly killed him, 'will you take my virginity?' you didn't see a problem with it. the two of you weren't strangers, you trusted logan, and he obviously has experience since he's much older than you.

ever since that night, you two have been going at it like rabbits. tonight, logan promised to help you get used to being on top. more importantly, training you to take him from this angle.

"c'mon, baby..." he coos with one hand on your hip and the other holding a cigar to his lips. "do it just like i told ya'."

swiftly, logan removes the rest of the material between the two of you before resting back against the mattress. anxiously, you line him up to your entrance and slowly sink down until you're sat fully on his lap again.

"nice 'n slow for me, sweetheart. that's it, stay still..." logan hums, lost in your tight, wet heat. he can hear every little noise coming from your lips. "atta girl."

it's a struggle to take all of him at once. you can feel him deep in your gut, nudging that sweet spot inside of you. logan can tell that your nerves are still tangled in knots, practically strangling his cock.

"lo, i c-can't do it." you huff, upset at yourself. "too full to move."

"poor fuckin' baby." logan teases with faux sympathy. "how 'bout we try something else for now?"

too caught up with the soft grind of his hips, you nod your head mindlessly to his proposal. logan brings his thumb to his lips, replacing the cigar which is now back on the nightstand. he sits up, making you whimper as he does so. you lean forward to capture his lips with your own, whispering how badly you needed him to just fuck you himself. instead, logan's got something else in mind.

"ah!" you gasp as he starts to rub your button with the wet pad of thumb. "f-fuck, right there..."

the soft rocking of your hips makes your toes curl and fingers pull at his little kitten tuffs. logan's mouth moves south to your chest. one nipple in his mouth then the other until both are swollen and kiss bitten. vibrations pour from his mouth as he groans at the tight squeezing of your cunt around his girth.

"ah-ah." he tsks, hand coming up to grip your jaw, pinching your cheeks together gently. "what did i say 'bout staying still?"

"s-sorry, lo.." you whimper voice muffled by your squished pouty lips.

despite having incredible stamina, logan was ready to release just from looking at your pretty face. he never been this close to cumming so soon but feeling you tense around him and wiggle in his lap made his head spin. all of this movement from only his thumb drawing circles.

"christ..." he grunts in your ear, moving faster now and with more pressure. "you're tryin' a kill me, sweetheart."

all logan gets in response is incoherent babbles of 'don't stop' and 'please, please, please'. he knows you are close when you claw at his back and start to bounce on him little by little, just enough to make you see stars. it all feels too much yet not enough at the same time. logan's circles start to get sloppy as he approaches his high too.

"l-logan!" you squeal, heavy eyes trying to focus on his face. "wanna feel you..."

in a rush, logan picks up the pace, torturing your button with his thumb. a loud moan falls from your lips, trying to wiggle out of logan's grip as your orgasm washes over you with intense euphoria. logan growls in your neck from your tight fucking grip on his cock, pumping his load inside of your walls. some of it spilling out of you and drenching the sheets.

the two of you catch your breath in silence for a moment. your nails scratch his scalp softly while logan pulls you down to kiss him. after a second, you move back, smiling down at him in a way that makes him harden again.

"thought you were gonna show me how to ride?" you tease.

logan shoots you a cocky eyebrow raise before leaning back again, one hand on your hip and the other returning to his cigar on the night stand.

"alright, baby..." he chuckles, re-lighting the cigar and paying little attention to the roll of your hips. "let me see what you got."

[jaylaxies]

CALL ME WHEN YOU HATE ME LESS

PAIRING: jake sim x fem!reader (ft. jaehyun and heeseung).

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, eventual fluff, porn with plot, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, choking, blowjob, using panties as a gag, spitting kink, edging, squirting, slight overstimulation, mentions of fighting, blood, usage of nicknames, slowburn if you squint, emotional trauma, lmk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT: 18,321 words. (18.3k)

SYNOPSIS: Jake Sim was a walking academic hazard—hot, broody, and failing just about everything that wasn’t football. Enter you, his new tutor: organized, overachieving, and absolutely not here for his attitude or his annoyingly perfect lips. But between late night study sessions, petty insults, and one very inconvenient almost-kiss, things start spiraling—fast. He’s supposed to be you project. You are supposed to hate him. Instead, you both are one sarcastic comment away from either a breakdown or a makeout, and honestly, it could go either way.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni (the full fic will include smut).

A/N: hihi, angels! if you have seen this before then yes, it is a revamp of my jeno fic as requested by a few anons! i hope you guys will enjoy it! all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

Chapter 1: Raised in Shadows, Told to Shine. 

Comparison. 

The core of all insecurities. The onset of overthinking. The path to self loathing. 

That’s what comparison does to a person—drive them to the edge of insanity in hopes of turning into something; into someone the others will look up to, compare themselves to. 

It was a bad thing per se, but it was motivation enough for Jake to work harder in order to leave the country, to get away from his family. 

The reason? His mother ever so conveniently happened to have fallen in love with a rich guy, someone who never knew what struggle meant, and Jake was just four back then, he didn’t bother changing his surname. It didn’t take much time for him to settle into the lifestyle, however, no matter how much he could have prepared to face his step-brother, he simply couldn’t bother looking him in the eye. 

Why? Because he was known to be the epitome of perfection. Jung Jaehyun was the son every parent wanted, the student every teacher was fond of, the doctor every nurse wanted to work with. 

The sweet dimple on his cheek was a great asset in melting the hearts of everyone in his proximity or afar. 

Jake on the other hand, wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t considered to be enough, especially when he got decent grades throughout his school life, he wasn’t a bother, kind to those who were around them, but it changed. 

It changed when he got daily reminders of how he wasn’t even close to how amazing and successful his step brother was. 

That’s when things started looking down for Jake. He stopped caring about the grades, he wasn’t sure why he was supposed to put up a I’m so good, so smart act in front of others when there was no reason for him to do that. 

Others didn’t bother doing the same for him. 

Rather, he tried to work upon the only thing he was passionate about, the only thing that mattered to him—football. 

Despite winning several trophies for playing the sport, his parents labelled it to be useless, which broke the last fragment of his heart, shattering it to the point of no return. 

Which would explain his current demeanor—moody, permanent scowl on his perfectly sculpted face and no care for the others around him. His sole focus being football, which is also the reason behind his current dilemma. 

“Being an excellent player in the sports team does not guarantee you your scholarship, Mr. Sim,” Jake’s teacher incharge spoke up, taking off her specs right after reviewing his annual grade report, “you’re failing three out of five modules, and if you don’t start getting back on track soon, then I’m afraid you won’t be able to play in the team anymore.” 

Fuck. 

Jake had been neglecting his studies, he admits, yet he never thought that he’d reach this point. It’s not that he wasn’t smart, he simply had no motivation to go on with his studies. His parents could easily pay the university to keep him around, however, he wanted nothing from them, which also explains why he got himself a scholarship in the first place. 

“I’m sorry if I’m late.” Jake’s eyes snapped wide open, turning back to see his step brother entering the teacher’s cabin. 

“Why are you here?” Jake asked, a muscle in his jaw twitching but Jaehyun only smiled. 

Jake’s professor was equally stunned, probably even more with her jaw wide open at the appearance of such a handsome young man. 

“I called him in since your parents were busy,” his professor said, handling Jake a letter, “go and find your tutor in the council room, she’ll be helping you with the upliftment of your grades, Mr. Lee, and now if you’ll excuse us, I’ve got to fill in your brother with your current situation,” she said the last part awfully sweetly as Jaehyun sat down in one of the vacant chairs, smiling at her kind tone. 

Jake scoffed, the demeanor change around Jaehyun went crazy and he wasn’t a fan of it, especially when he was called in to complain about his mistakes. 

He simply wanted to leave the university and never come back. 

He waited, taking deep breaths before punching the wall, not being able to contain his anger. The impact did hurt, yet he paid no heed to it, the blood dripping as he walked towards the council room to get over with the day. 

The name written on the sheet wasn’t unfamiliar to him, rather it only wearied the already infuriated boy as he knocked on the door of the student council room, which was empty except for you sitting there, working on a few papers which appeared to be the newsletter for the month. 

“Come in,” you allowed, not looking up as Jake made his way inside the room, observing the surroundings where he’s never been before. 

Then he looked your way, taking in your appearance. You looked cozy in your university varsity jacket, your specs sitting on your nose as you buried yourself in reading whatever it was that you were reading. He couldn’t deny you looked pretty in a way that’s comforting to eyes. 

With no words exchanged, he pushed the letter towards you, which finally made you look up at the source of disturbance, your eyebrows raising slightly as you most certainly did not expect the star football player to visit you in the council room, which he’s never been to before. 

He simply stood there, hands shoved into his pockets while still looking around, and you took a second to grab the letter, skimming over to read and understand that the letter was given by Mrs. Kim, the teacher in charge of your department, requesting you to take up the few teaching sessions you had applied for, Jake being the student you’ll have to teach for the same. 

You clicked your tongue, folding the letter exactly as it was before pushing it his way, your arms folding across your chest as you finally spoke up, “I reject. I don’t wish to teach you.”

His eyes were quick to snap towards you, finally staring right into your own eyes, irritation clear as he pushed his tongue on his inner cheek, eyebrow raised. 

“Aren’t you supposed to kiss your professor’s feet, given that you’re in student council? And here I thought you’d be a good girl.” Jake rasped, resting his arms on your table, leaning down to your level. 

You chuckled, expecting the exact response from him, “this is exactly why I don’t want to waste my time on you—you athletes don’t wish to study, you just require a passing grade, for which, I don’t have time to spare.” 

“What the fuck do you mean waste your time?” 

“Sim Jake, you’ve got more money with you than your bank account can handle, so I’m sure losing your scholarship won’t do you much harm,” you said with a sickening smile, “you’ve got no interest in studying, your attendance record states that oh so proudly.” 

“You don’t know shit about me,” Jake seethed out, messy hair strands falling over his eyes. 

“I know everything I need to know about you. Now excuse me, unlike you, I actually have work to do,” you said, passing him a tight lipped smile, not letting the proximity faze you. 

“You—” 

Jake’s sentence was cut short with two sharp knocks on the slightly ajar door, a head peeking in, successfully garnering your attention. You could feel your mood doing one eighty with the sudden intrusion of this stranger—whom you didn’t wish to be a stranger around anymore, your eyes softening, lips parting as you stared at him in awe. 

Meanwhile, if Jake thought that the day was done being a bitch to him, then he was wrong because the level of irritation that bubbled up in him the moment he saw the change in your expressions. 

“Sorry to interrupt, may I get in?” Jaehyun asked, smiling his usual dimpled smile, which had you swooning in record time. 

You could practically see veins of frustration popping out on Jake’s neck, “no. Your work is done, you should head back home,” he groaned, but Jaehyun only looked you way, continuing to get in, looking your way. 

“I’m Jaehyun, Jake’s elder brother. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing on giving him tutoring lessons, especially with how busy you must be with council duties,” he spoke up, shaking your hand, which was smaller in his warm, big hands. 

Jake scoffed, “she’s not—”

“Of course, Jaehyun! It’s my pleasure to help him out, and it’ll only help me better with my extracurricular credits! It’s no problem,” you nodded, a gentle smile on your face as your eyes practically twinkled with excitement, taking in the beauty that Jaehyun beheld. 

It was ridiculous. 

It was absurd how just two sentences; paired with a sweet smile from his brother, were enough for you to change your decision, in the span of two seconds at that. 

He tightened the hold he had on the strap of his black bag, “no fucking need. I’ll find another tutor,” Jake deadpanned, walking out of the room, not paying attention to Jaehyun who called out his name in the background. 

He wouldn’t let you use him to get to his brother. 

With that thought, he decided to detour and make his way to the gym, trying to blow off steam by practicing punching, each one getting progressively stronger as his mind replayed the difference in your behaviour when it came to him and his brother. 

It didn’t bother him that his knuckles were bruising, he knew he needed this extrinsic pain to get rid of the obvious hurt he felt each day. 

And he couldn’t understand why he felt so affected by your actions, especially when it was the first time you had met. 

Jealousy was indeed a bitch. 

Chapter 2: Surrendered to the skirt. 

Two days passed by and Jake’s mood showed no progress in terms of improving, rather, he felt worse each time the memory invaded his brain. He tried his best to sit down and open the first module of the unit he had to study. 

It’s not like he was bad at studying, he was just a bit out of practice, and well, his mental health wasn’t doing much to help him get any better. 

Just when he was about to actually get a hang of getting into the topic, the doorbell rang. His parents were out for business, as usual, and his step brother was busy doing morning shifts, which meant that he was alone at the mansion, minus the myriad of worker staff they had to take care of the place. 

Essentially, he had to get down to see who it was at the door, only to spot you leaning against the doorframe as one of the attendants had asked you to wait. He stopped, observing you from the staircase as you typed something on your phone. 

Why were you here after clearly rejecting him? Why were you here when he’s clearly told you he doesn’t want you to be his tutor?

Scoffing, he walked down the stairs and towards you, standing right in front of you, clearly invading your personal space as he decided to lean against the same side of the thick door frame with his brows raised.

You took a second to take in his appearance as he was clad in casual gray sweatpants with a blank tank, which honestly did nothing to hide his muscles. 

“Why are you here?” Jake asked with a bored tone. 

“I’m here to teach you, remember?” You gave him a pointed look. 

“And I clearly told you I don’t wish to study from you, it’s better if you leave now. I’ll just tell Mrs. Kim that you taught me,” he said, almost turning back to go inside. 

“And have them wondering how you failed even after getting tutored by me? Yeah, I don’t think so,” you shook your head, inviting yourself in without second thoughts. 

“Y/n, I’m not fucking kidding, you should leave. Besides, the one you came for isn’t at home at the moment,” he muttered bitterly. 

That caught your attention, “oh? Busy with a job then?” You asked, looking around the exquisite paintings hung at the entrance of his place. 

“Are you gonna leave or do I have to call the guards to escort you out?”

You chuckled, “you really don’t want the previous year questions I have? The council students get them each year you see, they’re bound to guarantee you good marks,” you explained with a smirk. 

Jake groaned, his lip bitten as he tried to think if tolerating you would be worth the questions, but his football career was at stake and there was no better option but to accept it. 

“What’s the catch?” Jake asked after a few seconds, sighing with defeat. 

“Nothing at all. We both know that you need these papers to get the grade that you wanna achieve and I’ll get my extra credits,” you reason. 

“You just wanna meet my brother,” he said dryly, “either way, you won’t get to see a lot of him, he’s always at the hospital, working and being the perfect son he is. Plus, he’s definitely not into uni students,” he looked you up and down, soon gulping and looking elsewhere. 

You were clad in a pretty skirt which showed off your legs—which you did wear in hopes of crossing paths with Jaehyun, but you completely missed how Jake was staring at your body. 

He wasn’t sure if it was out of hatred that he stared at you, or it was admiration because you were one of those people he despised—overachievers.  

You were in the student council, got good grades and professors favoured you, it wouldn’t be a surprise if your parents loved you for being the ideal daughter. It most certainly didn’t help that your appearance seemed as if you were the sweetest, kindest angel on earth, which wasn’t the case when you were around Jake though. 

“I’ll manage,” you shrugged, “so, I need your final word, Mr. Sim.”

“I am sure I can find better tutors than you,” he raised his brows, challenging you and you didn’t look fazed at all. 

“I am quite literally the best, professor Kim asked me to tutor you for a reason, besides, no one’s gonna agree to help you out with exams being only one month away,” you made your point, extending your hand for him to finalize his decision. 

Overconfidence. He sighed. 

Jake stared at your extended hand, thinking of the bigger picture here. He’d get tutoring and would be able to score decent grades if he gets back to his usual routine of studying. 

Downside? He’d have to face you each day. 

Sighing and keeping his feelings in check, he simply nodded, taking your smaller hand into his as he accepted the offer, suddenly aware of the warmth of your palm and how it leaves a tingling feeling behind as you shake his hand firmly with a smirk. 

“So, where are we gonna study?” 

Chapter 3: Silent room, a loud mind. 

Turns out, it’s not that easy to sit down and just teach Jake. 

Given the amount of classes he had missed, or rather, the amount of classes he had managed to attend, it was clear that he didn’t even have the basic idea of the syllabus for the semester modules. 

Moreover, you had already pissed him off by mentioning how you didn’t expect him to have such a clean and organized room, as if you had already decided that he was going to be a messy human. 

Moving forward, you both sat down next to each other with your laptop open in front of you as you made him write down all the topics he needed to cover for the next month, forming a sort of timetable of a kind. 

It was surprisingly peaceful between you two, as if you both wished to get over with it as soon as possible, behaving as civilly as you could but there was this one thing that Jake couldn’t stop doing. 

Overthinking. 

It’s the way you looked his way with disappointed and concerned filled eyes whenever he messed up, the way his jaw clenched when you told him to do better, the way he couldn’t help but stare at your glossed up lips as you looked around his room, eyes settling on his childhood pictures which were framed. 

It was also new to him to actually interact with people outside of his football team, especially girls. He couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to one. He wondered what was going on in your mind, he wondered if you were silently judging him through it all.

That’s all what people in his life did anyway. 

“You were cute as a kid, what happened to you now?” You joked, chuckling as you looked his way, only to find his mouth slightly agape.

He hadn’t expected you to say that, and he certainly didn’t want to retort back with something that would ruin his mood, “I grew up to be hot is what happened to me,” he replied smoothly. 

“Oh, so you do know how to joke around,” you raised your brows in surprise. It was indeed the image he had formed over the years. The image of him being nothing more than a rude jock who wouldn’t even reply to someone nicely. 

Now that you were actually interacting with him, you were going to find out how many of the rumors were true about him. 

He only leaned closer at your statement, you could see his muscles flexing as he rested one arm on the table in front of you both, “it’s not a joke, love. I am hot.”

You scoffed at the term of endearment, suddenly aware of his scent now that he was so close to you, “and egoistic too,” you helpfully added. 

“Rightfully so.”

Your childish argument was interrupted that very second as the door to Jake’s room swung open, revealing the exact man you came to see. 

Jaehyun was smiling, dressed in black slacks and a button up shirt as he welcomed you here, and you were quick to notice Jake’s mood turning fowl that very second. 

“Thank you so much for coming here, Y/N. Let me send a few snacks and drinks for you both while you study,” he smiled, and you rushed up to stand, not even bothering about the pen that fell down as you did so. 

“Jaehyun,” you walked up to him, much to Jake’s dismay, “oh, you don’t have to do anything,” you smiled sweetly, and he only shook his head softly, grabbing your arm. 

“Don’t worry about it, just sit and relax, okay?” He squeezed your arm, going downstairs and you sighed with a smile. Even his scent was perfect to you. 

“You done daydreaming?” Jake asked, deadpanning once his brother had left. 

“You done solving the question?” You retorted. 

He sighed, as if his energy was drained already, “yeah, just check and get this over with,” he said, handing you the binder and looking elsewhere. 

It was probably the first time you actually paid attention to his dejected tone, as if he didn’t have the energy to fight back, and you obviously didn’t wish to irk him more, especially when he looked so frustrated right now. Thankfully, a lot of his answers were indeed correct, which was another surprise to you. 

He was smart, he just simply didn’t wish to study. 

“Something wrong?” He asked, cocking his brow and you blinked, “you’re actually not as dumb as you portray yourself to be,” you mumbled, checking everything thoroughly. 

It should’ve been insulting to Jake per se, but even the slightest amount of approval was a big thing for him, causing the corner of his lips to curl up. He felt insane, the amount of emotions he felt in a single day was perhaps the reason for the same, courtesy of you. 

He was glad Jaehyun didn’t enter the room again, sending in a servant staff to give you the snacks instead, which maintained the peace throughout the session. 

You couldn’t help but notice how well he concentrated once there was silence in the room, your eyes focused on his hand gripping the pen, making it seem more veiny than it already was. 

Also, you didn’t miss the hint of a smile ghosting his face when you told him he did a good job right before leaving, which made you think of a few things, one being— 

He looked beautiful with a smile. 

Chapter 4: You can’t read my mind, so read my lips. 

As much as Jake loved the comfort of his room, he really wanted to avoid you bumping into Jaehyun again.

Even the thought of your interactions, your fake sweet smiles, made him wanna punch the wall. Jaehyun really had it easy and Jake never understood why, it was no joke that Jake was decent looking as well, talented in his own way, and a kind hearted person who just happened to have a protective wall around him so as to not get hurt any further. 

Which is why you had been tutoring him in the library from the past ten sessions, his own personal request to avoid having privacy with you. 

Heck, even Jake didn’t know it was his own mind trying to protect him, which is why he couldn’t let anyone in, anyone.  

Which made this situation far from ideal as he had you pressed against the library wall, no distance between you both as you closed your eyes in pure distress. 

“What the actual fuck is he doing here?” Your question was directed more to yourself, which confused Jake further.

He poked his tongue into his cheek, annoyance creeping through, “what the fuck is going on?” He asked. 

“Shhh, not so loud,” you pressed your palm against his mouth, “just hide me.”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrist effortlessly, pinning it above your head, “you don’t tell me what to do, yeah?” He mumbled, flustering you under his gaze before your eyes travelled back to where you were looking initially. 

He sighed in annoyance, looking back at the direction of your supposed fear. 

Lee Heeseung. Another of Jake’s football teammates. 

“Why are you hiding from Heeseung,” he asked, brow raised as he leaned into you. 

“Ugh,” you groaned, “he’s my ex, he shouldn’t even be in the library, he’s never here!” You were stressed and Jake smirked devilishly. 

“Fucking hell, you’re the girl he keeps on stalking and crying about?” He chuckled, “let me call him,” he turned away for a second. 

You used your free hand to grab his nape, “don’t fucking move,” you mumbled. 

Perhaps you were too harsh with the grabbing, also not calculating the proximity enough, because Jake’s nose was brushing against yours, lips close to the point of touching, and a low groan escaping his lips as your name rolls out his tongue in the most angry grunt ever, “what the actual fuck are you doing?” 

“J—just let him leave,” you mumbled, gulping and closing your eyes, his mint breath fanning your face as heat crept up your neck, up till your ears. 

“What will I get out of it,” he asked, his free hand resting on your waist now, “why should I help you?”

“I’m literally helping you study, Jake,” you seethed out.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he groaned, making you open your eyes, staring into his deep ones now, suddenly feeling small under his gaze, and well, his body. 

“What?” you asked, looking away to check if Heeseung had left, pushing Jake away the second you confirmed it. 

Jake, however, wasn’t having any of it. 

With a scoff and the shake of his head, he grabbed your wrist again, twisting it behind your back, not putting too much pressure so it just hurt but still made it clear how he would not let you go so easily, “you can’t run from me.”

“Let go, I fucking swear—” you let out, squirming around and pushing him, he didn’t budge at all sadly. 

“You do realize I’m a lot stronger than you, right?” He chuckled. 

“Fuck—what do you want me to do?” You rolled your eyes, jaw clenching as you looked at him. 

Before he could answer, your eyes widened in fear yet again as you yanked his arm so forcefully, he had no chance to balance himself, a yelp leaving his mouth as you ran and he was following right after you. 

Heeseung was back and you could just not deal with his ass anymore, hence the overwhelming response. Fight or flight? Flight for sure. Dragging Jake into it might be a stretch but hey, whatever helped you run away from the gremlin, right? 

“Y/N,” Jake hissed yet again, once you stopped by your seat, gathering both yours and his belongings scattered across the table from when you were studying a few minutes back, before getting up to find a book, before seeing Heeseung roaming around the halls of the library. 

It was quite amusing to Jake if he was being honest, a mix of feelings as you grabbed his wrist effortlessly yet again, your eyes set on the exit door leading to the parking lot where Jake’s Ferrari Purosangue stood proudly. 

“Get in!” You screamed even though you were far from the threat (read: Heeseung) now. 

“That’s my car in case you forgot—”

“Now.” 

“So fucking annoying—” He grumbled, with a small smile playing on his lips. 

You looked so bothered as if you were chased by Ghostface and not Heeseung, even though you probably wouldn’t run away from the prior. It was comical regardless, the long breath you exhaled once you were comfortable on his premium quality car seat, head leaned back fully. 

You opened your eyes after a few seconds only to find Jake’s eyes on you, face curved into an amused look. You stared at one another for a second, two seconds, three seconds—and he burst out laughing. 

It was probably the first time you saw him laugh like that—so freely, without any care in this world. It was loud but breathless, making his eyes crinkle with small crescents forming, his perfectly aligned pearly teeth showing as he went on, laughing at your disheveled state and crazy response to everything that happened the past twenty minutes. 

You were calm and composed for the most part, it was rare for you to look this frustrated over anything, which came as a surprise to Jake, the whole situation seemingly pure comedy to him. 

You observed him so carefully, your own lips twitching into a smile and before you knew it, you were laughing alongside him so normally as if two friends were laughing over a joke. 

A weird sort of warmth spread over your body, it made no sense honestly, you were pinned to the wall just a few minutes back and Jake looked as if he’d burst into flames with his anger, and now he’s laughing at your disheveled, non-composed state. 

Once Jake caught you staring back at him with glittering eyes, and a little smile, he froze. It was easy for him to come back to his senses (read: put his walls back up) which only made your smile drop too. It was awkward, both of you looking elsewhere while clearing your throats, definitely not something you expected. 

“Uh—sorry about that, yeah,” you mumbled, playing with the loose threat of your sweater sleeve. 

“Yeah, no problem,” he retorted, turning the car engine on to start driving. 

Why was it awkward? Because you laughed together like two absolutely normal individuals? Because you had Jake pinning you to the wall to avoid your ex? 

Or because you almost kissed. Almost. 

The ride back to your apartment was silent, no songs playing in the car, just the small buzz of engine, and the nail tapping on the screen of your phone—to avoid any kind of conversation happening, also clearly missing out on how Jake glanced at you every few seconds, the speed of his thoughts running faster than his own car. 

“I’ll—see you tomorrow then?” Your voice cracked as you said so, wincing slightly at your own tone. 

Jake was about to chuckle again, yet he covered it with a low cough as he mumbled a yes, as you opened the door once he stopped in front of your apartment. 

That’s it, you were leaving, and his eyes didn’t leave you till you disappeared into the apartment. 

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, groaning as he banged his head into it, a low horn sound only frustrating him further. It was hard for him to drive after, the scene of you being so vulnerable yet glaring at him like a scared little vixen trying to look brave, replayed in his mind. 

No, he couldn’t drive, couldn’t focus on the road anymore, stopping the car at a random parking lot of a fast food chain, grabbing his phone to pull up Instagram, specifically Heeseung’s account. 

He didn’t have to scroll much to find the picture he was looking for—his teammate, Heeseung, standing right next to you with his arm resting on your waist. Jake didn’t know why that picture left a bitter taste in his mouth all of a sudden, knowing well how badly Heeseung fucked up when he cheated on you. 

And now the asshole is running after you again. 

You didn’t deserve that, you deserve someone better—someone perfect like you. 

He went back, not having it in him to look at the picture again, instead, going to your account now. It looked professional, all your posts being highly calculative to make your feed look pleasing. Your highlights, however, had this one particular picture—a picture of you smiling without a care in the world, so raw, so genuine, so beautiful. 

Beautiful. 

Jake thought you looked beautiful, and it made him angry. 

He was angry—because deep down, he desired to be the reason for your smile. 

Chapter 5: Pretty in pink, but my head’s in the dark. 

Jake made you smile. 

You did know that laugh was contagious, however, you didn’t think you’d actually give in to Jake’s sweet chuckles. 

Sleep didn’t come to you easy when the constant reminder of the study session poked the back of your mind, not to mention what happened in the library earlier, where you and Jake almost kissed—

No. 

You shook your head. Such niche experiences never falter you, so why was this such a big deal? 

Another groan left your mouth, but alas, your body was relaxed enough to sleep so you woke up energetic the next day. It felt oddly friendly when you saw Jake at the University, and he threw a two finger salute your way, you waved back before going your way. 

“You’re zoned out, again.” Karina, one of your classmates, pointed out and you sighed as she rambled about how you needed to let some guy in, quite literally, to blow off some steam, which you clearly weren’t doing, hence the stuck up energy. 

Being descriptive about it didn’t help either—yet another reminder of how Jake’s body was pressed against yours this hour, yesterday. 

Heat crept up your neck, urging you to pack up and leave the room. It was hot, stuffy almost for you to do anything, which is why you found yourself studying at the empty seat of the University park. 

You had to face him again, of course, there was no escape to that, and as if the universe was testing you, the time passed by way too quickly for your liking and soon, you found yourself standing in front of the main door of Jake’s place. 

Before you could even ring the bell, the door opened to a huffing Jake, almost as if he ran downstairs, but how did he know—

“Hey,” he whispered, looking around. 

He didn’t wait for your reply, simply grabbing your wrist and dragging you inside, your skin burning at the unexpected touch, but you didn’t shake him off of you, only asking in a low tone, “what are you doing?” 

“Shh,” Jake mumbled, as though he was trying to avoid someone, or rather, trying to hide you from someone. His efforts were futile, however, once he heard that stern voice of his mother booming through the walls of his mansion. 

Now you get why Jake was in a hurry, the look on her face had a chill going down your spine. 

You felt Jake stiffen alongside you, his hold on your wrist now tighter, uncontrollably so. 

“You must be the new tutor for Jake,” she said, scrutinizing every bit of your existence, Jake’s jaw clenched at her unwavering gaze. 

“Yes ma’am, It’s a pleasure meeting you,” you tried to say, only for her to cut you off. 

“Trust me, darling. There must be no pleasure in helping Jake, but I do hope he learns a thing or two from you—you look like a smart young lady, hopefully, a positive influence on him.” 

You looked at her with your mouth open slightly, not believing the sight in front of you. No mother should look down on their children like that, ever. 

“Mrs. Jung, I hope we’re talking about the same Jake because he is amazing at studies, he grasps concepts faster than I do, and then I believe I’m the one who’s learning from him right now!” You smiled, full of enthusiasm, feeling Jake’s hand dropping down from your wrist. 

“In fact, I’ve never seen anyone play football so perfectly while also being so brilliantly academically smart, I firmly believe his grades will shock you this time. Now, if you’ll excuse us, it’s time for our tutoring session.”

You passed her a small smile, the shock clear on her face, before grabbing Jake’s hand and taking him along with you—to his room. You didn’t look back, simply closing the door as you breathed out with a pissed expression. 

Jake’s heart was beating fast, he wasn’t sure if he had words to speak at this moment, so staring at you was all he could do. 

You spoke for him. 

You defended him. 

No one’s ever done that, no one cared enough to understand, moreover, it didn’t help how you looked angrier than him at the situation. 

“W—Why?” Jake couldn’t keep his voice in check, “you didn’t have to—say all that.”

That’s when you turned around, facing him. All your anger disappeared once you focused on his face, so vulnerable, so confused, so desperate to know your answer. 

“Jake,” the gentleness in your voice only made him gulp and look down at the floor, “I hope you don’t believe a word she says, because that’s not true,” you spoke, inching closer. 

You were not one who was good at making people feel better, Jake of all people at that, however, this gave you an insight of why Jake is the way he is—closed off, hence the lack of words from your side, but you knew you had to say it. 

That’s the thing, we judge people too quickly, you always had snarky remarks for him, not knowing how deep they cut him. He looked shaken right now, traumatized, especially because you experienced a part of his life which he never wanted to share with anybody. 

“Jake, you’re doing so well, you know that right?” You whispered, as genuine as possible, your fingers grabbing his own, which made him look up at you finally. 

He was shaken, not from his mother’s words—he was used to them—but from yours. 

“No one’s ever said that,” he spoke so silently, you almost missed it. You held his hand tight—being almost angrier than him while answering his mom back—he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be over that. 

Jake didn’t realize his eyes were glistening. 

“What?” You breathed out. 

He gulped yet again, jaw clenched now as he struggled to get his words out, the floor being the most interesting thing to him, “defended me. No one’s done that.”

“I—is that why you hate Jaehyun? Because people only see him?” You asked, wincing at the question when you saw him stiffen again, a sharp pang in your chest once he brushed your hand off of his. 

“Don’t. Don’t fucking go there.”

“I didn’t mean—” 

“Oh I fucking know what you mean. Everyone sees him fuck—you see him, because he’s perfect, right? That’s what he is, perfect,” he seethed out, “you don’t know what it’s like—to live in someone’s shadow,” there was a flash of pain in his eyes. 

You stayed mum, letting him speak. 

“Every place, every room, every fucking person just sees him,” he muttered, “I need to be better, but it’s never enough, because he already did it—Jaehyun did it better. You look at him the same way as others do, and me? The afterthought—the failure.”

Your heart broke a little, guilt settling in because unknowingly, you fueled the same anger and trauma for him. 

“Jake,” you mumbled, “you’re not a failure.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’m starting to,” you spoke, and he looked up, “and thank god you’re not Jaehyun,” you chuckled, fingers ghosting near his jaw, your touch featherlight, making him suck in a deep breath. 

“Why?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes hopeful, which scared him. 

“Because you’re real, you don’t fake your emotions. You don’t smile at somebody who you don’t care about, you get angry, messy, you let yourself be shown how you are,” you lip twitched slightly as you said so, your own heartbeat rose at the sentences you so easily uttered, “that’s what makes you a human, Jake, a human who’s trying his best, which is what matters.”

He blinked. 

He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t, simply leaning into your touch with his eyes closed. 

“You’re you, the stupid jock who’s not scared of anything, yeah?” You tried to make him smile, which helped as you saw his lips curving up. 

Midway through your sentences, you genuinely questioned yourself about why you even like Jaehyun, it was honestly just your mind playing games with you. 

“You scare me,” he muttered. 

“Why?”

“Because you say things so convincingly, it makes me wanna believe you.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Just—don’t say it when you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” you said in a breath, his eyes on yours now, more intense than ever, “I mean every word.”

He stared a little longer, staring at you unamused as if you’d laugh in his face right this second. You didn’t. 

“You’re serious,” he said, voice hoarse. 

You nodded softly. 

Jake took a single step forward, the air around you so tight, it felt like a rubber band stretched to its max, on the verge of snapping back. 

You inhaled sharply once Jake’s cold hand brushed the hair on your shoulder, grazing against your bare skin, moving up your nape. 

“Do you have any idea what you just said to me?” He murmured, eyes locked on yours, turning you around easily to pin you against the wall—something he liked to do, apparently. 

“Tell me,” you mumbled. 

If someone told you two days back that you’d be in Jake’s room, calming him down before getting into a compromising position with him, you would have laughed in their faces. It was reality for you now, something that made you feel so unconventionally flustered. 

The way he brushed his thumb along your jaw, slow and deliberate, made you shiver, “you’re making me forget that i’m supposed to hate this—feeling anything.” 

You were hanging on the last bit of your sanity, drowning in Jake’s scent, his nose brushing against your cheek, hand gripping your waist, heat radiating off of your body. 

“Jake—”

“Say it again,” he whispered. 

“Say what?” You breathed. 

“That you’re glad I’m not him.”

You chuckled under his hold, your voice still shaking, “I’m so glad—so fucking glad you’re not him.” 

His breath sounded like a curse, lips hovering a breath above yours, you could feel his hesitation against your skin. He wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch someone as perfect as you, yet you didn’t stop him, the space in between you was so tight, it might as well elicit electricity. 

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, only leaning into his touch, resting your hand over the top of his on your jaw. The touch was faint, yet you could feel it everywhere. 

You held your breath as he leaned in—

Knock. 

Jake swore under his breath as you flinched, it physically hurt him to step back. 

“Jake?” Of course, it was Jaehyun who had to interrupt you two. 

Your hands trembled as Jake moved to the door, and you quickly turned towards the desk, rushing to sit down, pretending that nothing had happened—that you didn’t almost kiss Jake a few seconds back. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes furious with a hint of daze in them. “Yeah?” His voice came out strained as he asked Jaehyun through the door. 

“Mom wants to talk to you,” He said.

“Be right down,” he answered, shaking his head, staring at your way one last time, holding eye contact for a second, letting you see just how much he hated this situation, veins popping in his neck.

Then he opened the door, closing it behind him and disappearing from your eyesight. 

You stayed there, overwhelmed, lips tingling, pulse racing. 

A truth burned your skin in an excruciating pain. 

If he had kissed you, you wouldn’t have stopped him. 

Chapter 6: I can go from A to Z, but U is what I want. 

Jake hadn’t texted you all night. 

Not that you waited, except, you did. 

He never came back to the room after Jaehyun called him out, you waited, till you couldn’t anymore and had to rush out before your mind drove you to the edge of insanity. 

So you grabbed your bag, rushing to the first place you thought of—the courtyard behind the Science block. It was calm, no student in sight, thankfully. 

Your five minutes of calm ended a second too quickly, a voice calling out your name in its full glory. You cursed the universe for treating you like this and you didn’t have to turn around to figure out who it was.

Heeseung. 

“I gotta admit, I didn’t peg you to fall for the broken type.” He stepped out smiling as insane as a villain who hasn’t moved on does. 

“Still stalking me?” You rolled your eyes, “get a fucking job.”

“I call it being invested,” he smirked, shoving hands in his pockets, “it’s honestly a downgrade, going from me to Jake.”

“Not again,” you muttered, grabbing your book which you had just taken out. 

“I mean, trading me for Jake?” Voice full of pity. 

“As if you were an option, Heeseung,” you turned sharply. 

That shut him up for half a second.

“I just don’t get it,” he said, voice colder now. “He’s always angry, I was angry, I made you feel something, can he say the same?”

Your head was hurting by now, as you mumbled yet another shut up, only to be stopped by Heeseung as he grabbed your arm. 

“What? He’s the angry, tortured type. You’re into hopeless projects now?”

“I’m into honesty,” you snapped, “something you don’t offer.”

“What does he have that I don’t?”

“Self awareness maybe,” a voice came from behind you, low, cold, almost lethal. 

Jake was here. 

“Let go of her,” he said, dead-eyed, he was ready to snap. 

And Heeseung did, a scoff leaving his mouth before he smirked, “great, speak of the devil.”

Jake raised his brow, “you done?”

Heeseung chuckled, “not even close.”

You sighed, “of course not,” this day couldn’t get worse. 

“You really think this is love or whatever?” He said, looking at Jake but his words were directed to you instead, “he’s gonna burn you someday, and you’re gonna let him.” 

Oh god, you were not having any of this, why was this conversation even happening? It made absolutely no sense. 

Jake moved faster this time, but you blocked his chest with your arms, “enough,” you said sharply. 

“Ask him to leave.” Jake said, voice low. 

“Heeseung, just leave,” you said, turning to him. 

But he didn’t, and so Jake did, shoving past you as you rolled your eyes, Heeseung’s sinister smile only widening, getting so close to him, he had to lean back slightly. 

“Don’t test me, and don’t come near her again, or else I won’t be this patient.” Jake spoke. 

“Aw? You’re gonna hit me in front of her, Jake?”

“I don’t need to, she already cut you deeper than I ever could.” 

Heeseung stilled once, clenching his jaw, before turning to you, maintaining eye contact, “she’s not your girl, Jake.”

“You don’t know that,” he gritted his teeth. 

“You’ll come back,” Heeseung’s jaw ticked as he said so. 

“Hold your breath until I do,” you replied.

That was it, he left. It wasn’t silent, nor dramatic, but with enough tension to let you know that he will be coming back. 

Once he was gone, you shoved Jake, hard. 

“The fuck was that?”

“What? I came here trying to find you, only to witness you talking to him.”

“I didn’t want it to happen either, but the world hates me,” you mumbled, grabbing your bag and walking away with Jake following you behind. 

“I fucking hate that he still gets to talk to you, why does he have access to you?” His voice rose and you prayed no one would hear him, thankfully this area was empty. 

“He doesn’t, and why do you even care?” You asked, with distress clear on your face, “pretending like I mean something to you in front of Heeseung is just as worse, Jake.” 

“I—”

“No, you won’t even talk about last night, as if it didn’t happen,” you snapped and he froze, “you didn’t even come back to your room.”

His silence was your answer, and you knew this conversation wasn’t gonna go any further, Jake couldn’t do that—he was scared of opening up, and he was scared of answering those questions, so even though you were hurting on the inside, you let him be. 

“Tomorrow, library, at five. Be on time.” You mumbled, leaving him behind you. 

“Fuck—fuck!” Jake punched the wall next to him. He didn’t want you to go—the first person who ever tried to understand him, took his side, defended him. He was beyond scared of letting his guard down, so he groaned, sliding down the wall. 

“How do I even tell you I want you?”

Chapter 7: I know that I’m hard to read, but you got me here to stay. 

The library was too quiet for how loud your mind was. The sound of your pen dragging across the paper felt almost intrusive as you tried to finish your assignment. 

It had been three nights since the library fiasco. 

Two nights since the almost kiss. 

One night since the blow up with Heeseung.

You almost didn’t wish to come here, yet here you were, with the sample test papers ready, clad in your little black skirt, a cardigan too loose for you, waiting for Jake to show up—hoping he would. 

The clock ticked. He was a solid nineteen minutes late now, another minute and you’ll get up to leave. That’s when you heard the lazy footsteps approaching your side, the farthest corner of the library. You expected him to sit in front of you, yet he opted to sit right next to you, so close you could feel the fabric of his jeans brushing against your thigh. He took a seat without permission, like he had the right to be, like nothing had happened. 

He came in like guilt personified, shoulders hunched, hoodie loose, hair an unbrushed mess of indecision. And when he saw you?

He hesitated.

You didn’t look up, simply sliding him the sheet of questions to solve, the air around you turned weighted. His pen scratched, your leg bounced, you sipped water and he watched the corner of your mouth, practically burning holes into you. 

It was unbearable. 

This tension—it’s not a war but there’s rarely ever any peace. Catherine and Heathcliff reincarnated, except you weren’t on a moor, you were in a library, trying not to fall apart across the wooden study table. 

Just yesterday, he burned through Heeseung like jealousy was oxygen. 

He couldn’t stop staring, yet he solved the questions for forty minutes, sliding the sheet back to you for checking, expecting some sort of conversation now, anything, even a little hum of acknowledgement from your side, but none of it happened. 

He watched you scribble your pen over the margin, circling a few things, ticking the others, lip bitten in concentration. He observed you so intensely, how your eyes flicked across his answer sheet, but you didn’t look his way, not even once. 

“You won’t even talk to me now?” He asked, keeping his voice in check. 

“Four answers wrong, you did pretty well, can do better still,” you mumbled, passing him the paper. 

“Y/N,” he sighed, tired, he was afraid of this happening—letting you down, and that’s exactly what he did. Running away from his problems was what Jake always did, he wasn’t perfect, he knows it, but he wants to try and be better, better for you. 

“You came late,” you said, still not looking up. 

“I didn’t sleep last night,” he exhaled, jaw clenched as if trying to control his words.  

“Not my problem,” you retorted. 

“I was thinking.”

“You should study instead.”

“You hate me now, huh?” Jake leaned forward, voice flat. 

You blinked. The question hit out of nowhere.

“I don’t hate you,” you replied carefully. “But I don’t know how to deal with you either.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No, Jake. It’s the truth. And that’s more than you’ve been giving me.”

He looked at you then, really looked—eyes narrowed, like he was keeping a war behind them, trying his best not to show his emotions. His eyes were empty, yet so full of you, you being the only person he wanted to see. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, quietly. “I don’t know how to be—good at this, with you, I’ve never done this before.”

“And yet you’re good at disappearing. You’re good at leaving me hanging like none of it mattered, Jake. Even a text would have made it better, just one text.”

You weren’t yelling. You didn’t need to. Your disappointment was louder than any raised voice.

Jake sat back in his chair, breathing shallow. “You kissed me back.”

Your throat tightened, “you didn’t kiss me at all.”

“Exactly,” he muttered. “Because I would’ve ruined it. Ruined you.”

You shook your head slowly. “No, Jake. You didn’t kiss me because you’re scared of how much you actually want to.”

His fingers were now balled into fists. “And you’re not?”

“We’re not talking about me.” You looked away. 

He scoffed, turning to look at you fully, leaning in with his hand now resting on your thigh, burning the skin with his touch. 

“You want honesty, huh? So here it is—I’ve been thinking about you, about everything that’s happened in the past few days, no one’s ever messed with my mind so much and it fucking scares me. You’re messing me up—”

You couldn’t hear more, not when he was so close, not when he poured his heart out to you. Nothing about you two was normal, even your heartbeat was synced with how abnormally high they were. 

“Shh,” you mumbled, covering his mouth with your palm, and even the rude gesture calmed him down—your touch calmed him down. 

“You have an exam tomorrow.” You said and he stared, “study, pass the exam, and we’ll talk, yeah?”

He blinked, almost as if you showed him mercy, and gave him a chance to do something, to prove that he’s worthy of being near you. His scholarship, football, future—everything was at stake, but did he care? No. He cared about not letting you down. He wanted to prove himself to you. 

“You—you promise?” He asked, gripping the extra sheets and notes you passed his way.

You nodded, eyes softer now. You didn’t wanna hurt Jake, you could see just how hard he tried to fight with his demons, but this time, you wanted him to win.

“I’ll be waiting.” 

You turned to leave then, leaving Jake with his thoughts as he watched you leave, eyes on your legs. He gulped, looking back to the paper to find a line scribbled in your handwriting. 

You already know the answer, you’re just afraid of getting it wrong. 

It wasn’t about the question, it was about him. 

He just wanted to be worthy enough to stand in front of you and say I didn’t fuck this up this time. So he started, he worked all night, solved as many sample problems as he could, everything felt like a punch in the gut but he couldn’t give up, not this time. 

Jake couldn’t sleep at night, 

I’ll be waiting. 

That’s what you told him, and he was looking forward to it, because for the very first time in his life, someone wasn’t waiting for him to fail. 

He woke up before his alarm had the chance to ring, didn’t care about his mother’s remark on how he woke up on time for once, or how Jaehyun gave him a long, unreadable look. Jake didn’t react, he had bigger problems to tackle today. 

You were just as restless as him if not more, checking your phone every few minutes as if you’d get any text from Jake. He must be busy studying, you hope that was the case. 

He walked into the exam hall calm, focused, terrified. He didn’t skip questions. He didn’t zone out.

He solved the final problem two minutes before time and rechecked every line like his life was hidden in the margins.

When he walked out of that room, his shirt clinging to the back of his neck from sweat, his palms aching from gripping the pen too hard—he knew. He’d done it. Or at least, he hoped he did. 

Yet, he didn’t text you, he wouldn’t until he got the results. 

Chapter 8: Jealousy is but a red thread around my throat. 

You waited, not loud, but silently. 

Two whole days, you held your breath, even planned on visiting the football practice to just get a glimpse of Jake, yet you couldn’t muster enough courage to do so. God, you were so affected by everything he did, and this felt so very suffocating, waiting on someone. You knew what you felt, there was no point in denying it, however, you couldn’t figure out how it happened, so quickly at that. 

Heck, even Jaemin was more present in your chat inbox, even though you never replied to him, it just made you wonder if your time with Jake was just a hoax. 

Did you imagine it all? 

On the other hand, on the other side of the city, sitting in a dim room with sunlight pouring in, Jake was drowning in darkness. 

The exam portal was open in front of him, he refreshed the page every two seconds, not being able to sit still. His hands were shaking, not from fear but from want.  From the feeling of your voice telling him that you’ll talk to him once he proves himself. 

He gave up the wait, the result wasn’t out the whole day. It was three in the morning when the notification woke him up like a jolt. 

Results were out. 

He rushed to check it, the numbers stunning him as his jaw hung open. 

83%

Not perfect. But more than enough.

Enough to pass. Enough to stay on the team.

Enough to say, Look. I did it. I’m not a fuck-up. The first thing he thought of was you. So he typed—just two words.

Jake: I passed.

Because he didn’t know how to say what he really wanted to—I passed, and all I could think about was your voice. I passed, and I still don’t feel whole unless you tell me you’re proud. I passed, and it’s not enough if I can’t show you.

Your reply came back six minutes later.

You: I knew you would. 

It was soft, gentle. But was it enough for Jake? No. It should’ve been enough, but it wasn’t. 

He didn’t reply, he didn’t text you again. He opted to skip the lectures for the day and stay in his room, blinds closed, only darkness consuming him. 

You knew it was hard for Jake, you knew you shouldn’t wait for his reply or him approaching you—he was too scared to do that, which is exactly why you grabbed your bag and went to his place the first thing in the morning. Maybe Jake needed time, but you had to check. 

You rang the bell, your heart pounding as you did so, expecting Jake to open up and see you. Once the door opened, your pulse stuttered. 

Jaehyun. 

Of course, it had to be him. 

“Y/N,” he said your name smoothly, “didn’t know you were coming by.”

You hesitated with a small chuckle, exhaling the breath you were holding, “is Jake home?” 

He nodded, stepping aside to let you in, “yeah, he’s in his room, didn’t come out this morning at all.”

“Oh,” you said softly, wondering if he was alright. 

There was a pause, an awkward silence after that, you felt heavy, wanting to go upstairs but you weren’t sure if you were allowed to. 

Jaehyun closed the door behind you. “He’s been off since the results,” he said, voice low. “I thought passing would help, but I don’t know. He kind of shut down again after telling us he passed.”

You gulped, chest tightened at the revelation. 

“I came to check up on him, I’m not sure if he wants to meet though.”

“He’d want to see you.” Jaehyun said, smiling sincerely, “you’re good for him.”

Your eyes widened at that, “I’m not sure he thinks that.” You tried to smile, “can I go to his room?”

“He locked the door, I think he’s sleeping,” Jaehyun said apologetically. 

“I don’t wanna bother him.” You smiled sadly, “those are good pictures,” you mumbled, looking at the wall full of frames, particularly the ones with Jake in them.

“Yeah, I took most of those,” Jaehyun replied with another smile, he knew you wanted to talk to Jake so he suggested something, “Maybe if you take him something to eat? I can give the breakfast he skipped—”

“Oh no, I can run to the bakery and get something—”

Then you noticed a movement in your peripheral vision, you turned around to find Jake. He was standing down the hall, his fluffy hair a mess, eyes wide as if he didn’t expect you to be here—especially with Jaehyun. 

“Hey,” you breathed out. 

No reply. 

“Y—you didn’t reply, I came to see you,” you tried speaking again. 

However, his expression didn’t change and suddenly, you felt like you shouldn’t have come here at all. He was frozen even when you said you wanted to make sure he was okay. Then he came back to his senses, clearing his throat. 

Jaehyun left the room, letting you two be alone. 

“Why didn’t you ask for me?” He whispered, just sadness in his voice. 

“I did, that’s what I came for,” you tried to explain.

Jake stared at you, he was so broken inside he couldn’t let himself believe it. You dressed up, all pretty, your eyes so soft, your lips turning into a pout of disappointment. You looked perfect, and you came here for Jake? He just could not believe it. 

“You were talking to him,” Jake said, referring to Jaehyun, his voice broken. 

“He opened the door, what can I do?” You shook your head, trying to explain, “you didn’t even text back, Jake.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he replied, “I’ve never done this before, I’ve never had someone wait for me and mean it.”

Your lips parted to reply but he wasn’t done. 

“You said you’d talk to me after the exam,” he went on, voice sharper now, “but when you showed up, you let him open the door. You let him tell you how I was.”

“I didn’t—” your voice faltered, “I didn’t come for him.”

“Didn’t look that way.”

That hurt. You flinched. “Jake, why are you doing this?” 

“Because I waited for you,” he snapped. “I sat in that room like a fucking idiot thinking you’d come to see me. Not make small talk with my brother or compliment his photography.”

“You heard that?” You froze, it wasn’t your intention to do any of that. 

“I heard everything, every second you spent without taking my name,” he said. 

Just like that—he hurt you. Every conversation was about Jake, every single one. He just couldn’t see it. 

“I thought I was getting better,” he admitted, quieter now. “I thought passing the exam would mean something. That it would be enough.”

“It was,” you whispered. “Jake, it is. I am proud of you.”

“Then why didn’t it feel like it?” His voice broke on that line. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a step away, then back, like his own body was a prison.

You stood frozen. Every word hit somewhere different.

“I wanted you to come,” he said, softer now. “Not to check in. Not to ask if I’d eaten. I wanted you to come for me. Just for me. You don’t get it, Y/N.”

“No,” you stepped forward. “You don’t get it. You think everything is about being chosen or abandoned. But not everyone’s trying to leave you, Jake. Sometimes people show up. But you keep slamming the door in their face.”

He turned away. “Then go.”

“I came for you.” You said one last time, your eyes watering, not being able to contain the hurt you held in them. 

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have.”

That one landed like a punch.

Your mouth opened. Then closed. You nodded. Just once.

“Fine.”

You turned.

And you left.

And this time, he didn’t stop you.

Chapter 9: I know that I’m hard to read, but you got me here to stay 

You spent most of your morning crying alone in your student council room, but it just wasn’t enough, not when you were being wronged every second of the day, not when the person you wanted kept running away from you no matter how hard you tried. At least you did. 

You couldn’t run away though, you had an important meeting with your council at six in the evening, by that time, you had done everything to make yourself look normal again, but your mind was entirely elsewhere, in another realm, a realm where things were different. 

Jake, on the other hand, left his room as soon as he realized how wrong everything had gone. All afternoon his own words replayed in his mind, how he asked you to leave and how you left a single tear drop on the floor before you turned around and left. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have.

It felt like biting into something rotten, saying that out loud to you. Like watching the one and the only thing he wanted turn and walk away. You didn’t yell back, you didn’t beg, you went still, and left. He saw you leave—he made you leave. 

And he let you go anyway. Because that’s what he did. Because pushing people away was easier than asking them to stay.

Until now.

Now he was pacing in his room like a caged animal, hoodie still damp, heart in his throat. He kept hearing your voice in the hallway. Kept seeing your face. Kept remembering the way you reached for him and he didn’t reach back.

His chest felt tight, his limbs tense. He couldn’t stay here, not in this house, not knowing you might never come back.

He had to find you.

So he ran. He ran to the courtyard, not caring about the rain pour, soaking him up from head to toe. You weren’t in the library, not in the council room, the classrooms were empty. He was panicking. 

That’s when he heard a voice, turning around the corner of the athletic department, he walked straight into one of his football teammates he couldn’t stand at all—Minjae, a loud-mouthed asshole, smiling like a madman. 

“Fucking hell, Lee Jake, you look like shit.” He grinned. 

Jake didn’t answer, he was in a hurry, he had to find you, to make things right with you, he was about to push past Minjae when—

“Oh, by the way,” he smirked, “Heeseung told us a lot about how you finally landed his ex, the pretty goody two shoes, Y/N.”

Jake froze, jaw clenched at the mention of you and Heeseung in the same sentence, coming from an asshole at that. 

“Didn’t think you’d have a go at someone like her. She seems to like guys who have more brains than biceps.” He laughed at his own joke. 

“The fuck did you just say?” 

Minjae laughed. “Chill, man. I’m just saying—props to you, seriously. Girl like that? All polished and pretty and loyal? I mean, not that it’ll last. Girls like that don’t stay with guys like us. She’ll figure it out eventually.”

Jake’s vision turned black.

“Say that again,” he said, voice like static.

Minjae raised his hands. “Relax. You don’t need to get all—”

The punch landed before he could finish.

Minjae hit the ground hard, water splashing up from the impact, the rain pouring down heavier now. He tried to shove Jake back, but to no avail as he bent down, his fist colliding with Minjae’s jaw again.  

Jake wasn’t fighting Minjae per se, he was fighting every single voice that told him he wasn’t enough, that he could never live up to his brother, that he could never be with someone as perfect as you. That’s what he believed too, till you actually became real for him. 

His mind was elsewhere when he took a blow to his jaw, lip bleeding now, Jake stumbled but scoffed before punching him again, and again, till his knuckles were shredded, a throbbing in his jaw which almost felt like fire. 

It was only when someone pulled him off of Minjae, Jake stopped, spitting out blood in the rain slick grass. Everything hurt, but not as much as his burning chest. 

“Are you insane?” Someone yelled his way, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jake didn’t bother answering, pulling out his phone and rushing away, typing out texts to you. 

Jake: where are you? please say something i’m so fucking sorry Y/N i didn’t mean it  i didn’t mean any of it i swear Y/N please 

No response. His messages were just there, unread, and unanswered. He simply didn’t know why. 

He didn’t know how you had been in the private meeting room for the past hour, student council prep being a whole scheduling disaster, handling arguments about clubs and their out-of-the-worldly budget demands. 

You were half awake at best, distracted by the storm that brewed outside. Your phone vibrates once, then again, and when you finally pull it out to check the numerous missed calls—your screen goes dark. Perfect, just on the day you didn’t bring your charger or powerbank. 

The feeling in your gut—it wasn’t good, which is why you excused yourself mid meeting, something you never do, to rush back home. You were soaked as you ran to your apartment, close to the University, thankfully. You plugged your phone in to charge as you rushed to take a shower, hoping the hot water would soothe your nerves. It didn’t. 

You kept thinking about Jake, about the fight at his place earlier, how he asked you to leave with the saddest look in his eyes, and how badly it hurt you. You were out of the shower in fifteen minutes, toweling your hair with one hand and rushing to check your phone with the other, not expecting a myriad of notifications. 

17 Missed calls. 

6 Voicemails. 

26 Unread texts. 

The last of which made your blood run cold. 

Jake: Y/N please  i’m outside 

You rushed to the front door, and he was there—leaning against the wall beside your entrance, hoodie clinging to him, hair wet and plastered to his forehead, eyes closed and him wincing like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Like it hurts too much to exist. Hands bruised, lip split, and he opened his eyes—bloodshot, glassy. 

“Jake,” you gasped out loud, “w—what happened?” You said, going close to him. 

“I tried to find you,” he said, voice wrecked, “I tried but I couldn’t, I thought that maybe you blocked me.”

“No—I was in a meeting and my phone died, god I’m so sorry—fuck, come inside.” You shook your head in distress.

“Y/N,” he groaned, and you gently helped him when he didn’t move, like he wasn’t allowed to, “I fucked up.”

“Shh, come inside, it’s cold,” you whispered and he nodded after a moment of hesitation. You tried to be calm, you tried to take control of the situation for once and he listened, this time he did when you took him to your room. 

You didn’t ask how this happened to him, only guiding him to the bathroom, “you’re soaked and bleeding, take a shower, i’ll put your clothes in the wash and dryer.”

He opened his mouth to say otherwise, but you didn’t let him, grabbing a fresh towel and handing it to him. 

“Are you sure you want me here?” He asked, vulnerable. 

“I wouldn’t have opened the door otherwise, Jake, I do.”

He nodded, swallowing hard as he disappeared into the bathroom without another word and you worked your washing machine and dryer, sitting down right after, exhaling and letting your guard down, hands shaking with worry. 

You were glad Jake was taking his sweet time inside, because you had no clue how to go on with this situation. Jake stalling coming out simply because he was ashamed, also consumed in how good your shampoo smells. He was at your place, in your bathroom, all bloodied up, why? Because he couldn’t be normal for once and let you in. 

His walls came crashing down each time you came closer to him, but this time, he didn’t want them to go back up the second he touched you, this time, he wanted you inside with him. 

His clothes were dry very soon and you kept them in your room, waiting outside by the sofa, letting him come out all dressed up. The water stopped soon, the door creaking as he came out, and you were sitting on the sofa, hair still wet. 

Then Jake opened the door, you stood up at the noise, and he looked your way in a silent plea to ask you if he could sit next to you, and you nodded. He held up the bloodied towel, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and you smiled softly, taking it away from him. 

The silence was too loud after as you both sat next to each other, you waited for him to say something, waited for the reality of tonight to settle in—to make sense, to stop trembling beneath your skin. And then he spoke as you took out your medicine kit, gently grabbing his hand to take a look at his bruised knuckles. 

“Y/N,” he took your name as if it was the only thing he knew. 

He watched you kneel in front of him, your eyes not angry, just steady, quiet, and unbearably kind. His fingers trembled in yours, you gently pulled the sleeve back, pressing a warm damp cloth to the wounds, making him wince slightly at the contact. 

“Sorry,” you breathed out. 

“I deserve worse,” he breathed back. 

“No, you don’t,” you said, looking up at him. 

He laughed under his breath, “why are you so kind to me? I don’t deserve it, Y/N.”

“You don’t get to decide what I give you, Jake,” you replied, “you’re bleeding, again.”

“Not my first time.”

You gripped him tighter, “and that’s supposed to make it better?”

“No,” he said, voice low, “just means I’m good at it by now.”

You didn’t answer. Just ripped the antiseptic packet open a little more forcefully than necessary and pressed it to the bruised line of his knuckles. He flinched.

“Good,” you muttered. “Means you still feel something.”

“God, Y/N—”

“No,” you snapped, trying your best to act normal but you both were far from that, “not yet.”

You cleaned the split in his skin with the kind of precision that only comes from anger—controlled, careful, but deeply furious.

“You don’t get to act like none of this mattered,” you said, eyes locked on his wounds. “You don’t get to disappear into your guilt and then show up bleeding and say I didn’t know where else to go. That’s not enough.”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t come for a reward.”

“Good,” you said coldly. “Because you’re not getting one.” You wrapped gauze around his hand slowly, tight enough that it would sting.

He didn’t pull away.

“I came because I thought I’d lose you,” he said through his teeth, “I came because I’m fucking terrified that I already did.”

“Who’s fault is that?” You said, standing up, “you keep doing this thing, you pull me in, let me see you and then the very second it gets real, you shut the door in my face.”

“I know,” he said. Loud. Frustrated. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see the way you look at me when I say the wrong thing? Like you’re trying so fucking hard not to walk away?”

“You told me to go!”

“I didn’t mean it!”

“Then don’t say it!” You shouted, “don’t look at me like I’m everything one second and then act like I mean nothing the next!”

“I didn’t think you’d stay.”

“I stayed!”

You were both breathing hard now. Staring at each other like you didn’t know whether to cry or kiss or throw something, You still stood in between Jake’s legs, him looking up at you.  Jake ran a hand through his damp hair, pacing a few feet before turning back to you, eyes wide and glassy.

“I ruin things,” he said, “I always have. I don’t know how to love something without fucking it up. But I wanted you anyway—I still do.”

Your throat tightened. “And I’m supposed to what? Carry all of that? Be your exception?”

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I just need you to see that I’m trying. Even if it’s ugly. Even if I’m bleeding and loud and afraid. I need you to see me, and stay anyway.”

You stared at him.

He looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. Someone who’d gone through hell and walked straight into another fire because you were at the center of it.

Your voice cracked, “you don’t make it easy.”

“I know.”

You looked down at your hands—his blood still faintly on your fingertips. He reached out slowly. You didn’t move. Not when his fingers curled around your wrist. Not when he pulled you in his lap, not when his forehead leaned into yours like he was holding on for dear life.

“I hate that I hurt you,” he whispered. “But I’d rather burn with you than freeze without you.”

“I wasn’t gonna leave, Jake.”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because I’m sick,” he said suddenly. “Sick of being the one who’s always too much. Too angry. Too wrong. I get one thing right—one fucking exam—and even then I screw it up by throwing a punch at someone who talks shit about you and then picking a fight with the only person who’s ever actually looked at me like I could be more.”

Your breath hitched. You grabbed the gauze, wrapped it around his hand. Tighter than needed.

“Then be more, Jake.”

He stared at you.

“Be more,” you repeated, “because I’m tired of being in love with someone who’s so determined to hate himself.”

That silenced him. Fully. Until he spoke again.

“You’re in love with me?”

The words dropped like a bomb between you.

You froze. Swallowed. Refused to take it back, chuckling to yourself at how easily you let go and told him that, “yeah—god help me, I am.”

Then you tried to move back, only his arms wrapped around your waist tighter, holding you in place, “you don’t get to say that and walk away.” He growled. 

“Who said I’m walking away?” You mumbled, holding onto his shoulder for support. 

It was unreal, how close you guys were but still not close enough, it was never enough. 

“You’re mad at me,” Jake stated. 

“I should be mad.” 

“I’m mad too,” he added. 

“Good,” you rolled your eyes, trying to move again.

But he didn’t let you, not this time, his thumb brushing your cheek. 

That was it. That was when Jake finally let go. He couldn’t delay this anymore, not again, not when you were right in front of him, not when your soft lips brushed so tenderly against his bruised ones, not when you told him you were in love with him—not when he knew he had to have you. 

He surged up and into you—hands gripping your face, mouth pressing against yours like it was the only way to breathe. It wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t neat, it was everything you’d been holding back.

Lips slotted together, you could taste blood on your tongue from where he was hurt before, which only made you groan into the kiss, he was frustrated, so frustrated, not having it in him to let go for even a second. 

You gasped, arms flying up to clutch at his shoulders, pressed chest-to-chest, his body was warm—too warm—and you could feel his tension in every line.

You broke the kiss first, panting, eyes wide. “You shouldn’t—” you tried to say, especially when his body was hurting. 

“I have to,” he breathed, leaning in again. “Let me, just once. Please.”

You didn’t stop him, grabbing his nape and pulling him into you once again, because when Jake kissed you again, it felt like pain, penance, and pleasure all in one. It was as if he was trying to earn your forgiveness with his mouth, trying to pour out everything he couldn’t say to you, groaning into your mouth when your hips shifted over his lap. 

“I fucking—” He said midway the kiss, “god I—”

You shushed him gently, “you don’t have to say it.”

“I love you,” he breathed out, forehead pressed against yours, eyes earnest and full of life for the first time since you saw him, “I don’t care if it’s too early, I can’t fucking not say it, I love you, I—”

Before he could ruin the moment with the spiral in his throat, before he could pull back in fear, you pressed your lips against his like it was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

He responded like he’d been starving. Mouth hot, desperate, hands gripping your waist like the world was falling apart and he only had seconds left to memorize you. The kiss was brutal in the way it made you feel, there was no choreography to it, no elegance—just lips, teeth, breath, and aching hunger.

His mouth was swollen. Your lips, bruised from how much he kissed you like he didn’t know how to stop.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed.

You stared at him. “I don’t want you to.”

Then you grabbed his jaw once you heard him wince, “does it hurt?” You asked, pecking his jaw, trailing kisses all over. 

“It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt,” he whispered, letting your lips take over, tracing every bit of his face and neck, his eyes closing with the fire that you ignited within him. 

“This feels like a dream,” he whispered.

“It’s not.”

“But it could be,” he added, almost to himself. “You—like this, in my lap, in your apartment, touching me like I’m not a monster.”

You cupped his face again, guiding his eyes to yours, “you’re not a monster, Jake.”

“You don’t know the things I’ve thought.”

“Then tell me.”

His voice cracked, “I thought I’d die if I didn’t see you again. I thought that maybe I’m already ruined and maybe I don’t deserve you but I can’t stop loving you anyway. I thought—”

You kissed him again. Slow this time. Deep and aching, “then stop thinking,” you whispered, “just be here—with me.”

His fingers trembled as they curled into the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?”

You nodded.

He pulled the fabric up carefully, reverently, and you helped him, raising your arms until it was off. His breath hitched. Not because of how you looked—but because he was looking at you like that.

Like something sacred.

You grabbed the back of his hoodie, tugging. He hesitated for a split second before pulling it over his head. The sight made your breath catch.

His torso was littered with bruises, some dark purple, some already fading yellow. His ribcage dipped where the muscle was taut with tension. You reached out, fingertips grazing over a particularly harsh mark near his side.

He flinched. “That one’s from earlier.”

Your jaw clenched, “you shouldn’t fight because of me.”

“I wasn’t,” he said, “I was fighting every voice in my head that said I wasn’t worth your love.”

You kissed the bruise.

He gasped.

“I hate that they ever made you feel like that.”

His hands slid back up to your sides, lips brushing your jaw. “You make it go quiet.”

“I want to,” you whispered.

Your kisses grew slow again, heavier with emotion than desire. You could feel his heartbeat where your chest pressed into his, your hands in his hair, his head tilted just enough to deepen the kiss. You rolled your hips slightly in his lap, and he groaned again, burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck, Y/N—”

“Jake,” you murmured, your nails dragging softly along his back, “look at me.”

He lifted his head. His eyes—wild, glassy, full of everything he couldn’t say.

“I love you,” you said again. “I’m not afraid of it. So don’t be either.”

He leaned forward, pressing your foreheads together. 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“You’re so fucking pretty, did I ever tell you that?” He mumbled against the skin of your neck, brushing his lips all over before placing open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your clavicle, “so fucking pretty.”

Jake wasn’t gentle anymore, not when he’d been craving your presence, craving you. He couldn’t help but treat you like a reward, like he finally had won the only thing in life that actually mattered to him. 

He was quick to grab your waist and flip you over, getting on top of you on the couch that was too small for things he had planned in his mind. It was almost like a dam breaking the way his mouth was on your neck, biting, sucking, claiming you. 

“Jake—” you mumbled, your back arching as you felt his body pressing into you, fingers wrapped around his wet locks as he marked your skin with every ounce of desperation he had, his fingers mapping out every inch of your body as if he’s afraid he’d forget it—as if he could ever forget anything about you. 

The warmth of his hands brushed over your bra clad nipples, a whimper leaving your mouth. Jake wasn’t undressed yet you could feel him getting hard, and god you wondered just how big he was, grinding into you as if he was already inside your cunt. 

“I hurt you so fucking much,” Jake mumbled, lips ghosting over your tit, “now I’ll hurt you in the way you want me to,” he said with dark eyes, yanking your bra down enough for your nipples to show, latching his mouth to you all in light speed. 

All his life Jake couldn’t take control of anything, but seeing you shiver under him just made sense to Jake, he had to take control—he had to make you feel so good, you wouldn’t ever look at anyone else. 

“You’re fucking crazy,” you whispered, already disheveled with how needy you were, wetness pooling in your panties, soiling the new pair you had put on not too long ago. 

“Yeah? You drive me crazy, baby,” he chuckled, and that sound went straight to your pussy. Jake was hot, so fucking hot, but him using nicknames on you with his deep tone—only god knows how you would survive this. 

You bit your lip to conceal your moans, which only infuriated Jake, biting your nipple harshly to make sure you scream, “don’t fucking hide your pretty voice,” he said. 

His hands went to your other breast and he gave it a tight squeeze, your eyes were on him as you watched his lips parting, letting his tongue make contact with the tip of your very hardened nub. He bites down on your nipple, making you cry out, but quickly soothes it with his tongue before switching to the other side, he wants to drive you wild with pleasure, to possess every inch of your body.

Lost in the haze of pleasure, you surrender yourself completely to Jake’s possessive touches, letting him have his way with you. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and his desperate sucking, a symphony of carnal desire. In this moment, there is nothing but you and Jake, and the burning hunger that consumes you both. 

Jake’s hands roam across your body, his touch electric against your skin. He grabs your hips, pulling you flush against him as he claims your lips in yet another searing kiss, tongue delving into your mouth, hot and hungry, making you more hungry for his touch—for him. 

“I—can’t,” you whimpered, wanting more of him. 

Jake chuckled, “can’t even speak now, hm? What happened to the feisty lil’ girl who couldn’t shut up?” 

“Fuck, shut up,” you mumbled, tugging on his hair harder, which only made him groan and squeeze your tits harder, coming up to brush his lips against yours, hot breaths intertwining as he smirks, hand travelling down your body, very close to the hem of your shorts. 

“Want me to shut up?” He asked, squeezing your neck with slight pressure, your mouth opening in a gasp—he took the opportunity to spit in your mouth, watching your eyes widen as watches you gulp it down, “good fucking girl,” he mumbles. 

You were too gone to function anymore and you had just started, but you knew one thing—whatever Jake wanted, you’d let him do it to you. 

That man was no less than a Greek god with how sharp his features looked, especially in the dim light of the room, muscles flexing, abs on full display as he held himself up on top of you to press kisses all over. 

In a swift second, he pulled you up to unclasp your bra, throwing it away somewhere to continue pressing hot mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts, and down your tummy, caressing it with the pad of his thumb, spending a good few seconds covering the expanse of your skin. 

You breathed harder once he reached the waistband of your shorts, his hooded eyes, almost drunk, looking up at you before he swiftly pulled them down, throwing them on the floor somewhere.

He couldn’t be gentle even if he tried, not when he was this thirsty, holding your legs open as he settled in the limited space that the couch held for him. Madman—that’s what he was and you couldn’t help but moan when he got closer to your panty clad cunt, burying his nose in the wet fabric, sniffing the scent of your arousal, groaning as he locked your thighs under his arms, which flexed harder now. 

You moaned his name as if a broken record repeating the same thing over and over again and he only mumbled things you couldn’t hear in your cunt, licking the already wet cloth, biting his lip at the first taste of you, “fuck—you’re so fucking perfect,” he says licking you harder, kissing your inner thighs alongside, leaving bites all over—he was feral. 

He slid your panties to the side, and the sight he had in front of him drove him to the edge. Jake was an impatient man, yes, he was messy, he was not the softest, but seeing you like this just made him realize how much crazier he could be. 

That first taste emboldens him and he dives in like a man starved, lapping at your folds like he’s trying to consume you entirely. 

His desperate tongue delves deep inside, fucking you with rapid strokes and curling to hit your sweet spot. You cry out sharply at the intense sensation, fingers tangling in his tousled raven hair to hold him in place. He grips your thighs tightly, holding you down and open for his onslaught as he devours you. 

Jake zeroes in on your clit, flicking and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves rapidly. Your back arches off the couch as he suckles hard on the throbbing bud, two fingers pumping inside your clenching hole.

“Fuck—Jake, I’m gonna cum!” You wail, thighs trembling violently around his head as your climax approaches rapidly. He doubles his efforts, fucking you harder with his fingers and lashing your clit mercilessly with his tongue.

He curls his fingers to stroke your G-spot with every thrust, drawing out more of your copious arousal to lap up greedily. Your walls start to flutter and clench around him as the pressure builds unbearably.

 Jake chuckled, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. “You like that, baby?” He practically purred, before sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. 

“Fuck—yes,” you gasped, your head falling back against the couch. Jake was relentless, his tongue exploring every inch of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your thighs trembling as you stared at the ceiling with your mouth open, desperate for air. 

Jake pulled back for a moment, looking up at you with a wicked grin, “you want more, kitten?” He teased, running a finger along your slit, “go on then, beg for it.”

You groaned in frustration, but you were too far gone to care, “please, Jake,” you begged, fueling his ego. 

“Shhh, be a good lil’ kitten for me, yeah?” He mumbled into your core mindlessly, sending shivers up your spine as your thighs shake. He didn’t stop, but just when your ecstasy was about to crash—

He stopped. 

You let out a frustrated groan and Jake only got up with the essence of you sprawled over his chin, his hard on begging to be freed. 

“Fuck?” You asked, trying to get up on your elbows, looking at him incredulously. 

He only gave you a once over, tongue poking his cheek from inside before he came closer, swooping you up in his arms easily as you yelped, eyes wide as he carried you to the bedroom, “no patience, huh?” He asked. 

He was proud of himself for making you this weak, for cracking your high wall down so he could see you, so he could ruin you. Jake was possessive, especially after knowing what you and Heeseung went through, he wanted you to have the best, and he was willing to be the best for you. 

“I—I was gonna cum!” You said, holding on to him for support.

“Did I say you could?” He replied smoothly. 

“What—Jake what the fuck?” You whined and he only chuckled.

“Be patient, love, or else you won’t be coming all fucking night, yeah?” He said as he let you get down on the bed. 

You looked so innocent, eyes watery, hair messy, looking up at him like an angry little kitten trying to look tough. He climbed the bed and you moved back, till your back hit the headboard and he hovered above you, caressing your cheek as he cupped your jaw, tilting your head up to look him in his eye. Your heartbeat speeding up yet again, and good lord you loved being manhandled by Jake. 

“What are you thinking?” He asked, thumb pushing on your lower lip. 

“Nothing.” You mumbled. 

He leaned in closer, “not thinking of my cock inside your pretty little cunt, hm?” He asks, watching you shiver at the thought, “by the time I'm done with you, you’ll be begging me to let you cum.”

Your jaw clenched as you slide your hand up Jake’s torso, tracing all the way from his abs to his neck, his own body reacting to your touch, cock twitching inside his pants by the time your hand rested on his nape, pulling him even closer so your noses were touching. 

“You know, Jake, you talk big game. Don’t make promises you can’t back up,” you mumbled to rile him up. 

Jake’s eyes flashed with a mixture of lust and irritation at your challenge, “oh, you’re going to regret those words,” he whispered, his hands gripping your hips possessively. “I’m going to make you beg for my cock, baby.”

He punctuated his statement with a sharp thrust of his fingers, two of them plunging deep into your sopping wet pussy. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he worked them in and out, stroking along your sensitive walls.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he panted, his thumb rubbing firm circles on your clit. “I can’t wait to feel this perfect little cunt wrapped around my cock.”

You moaned, your hips rolling to meet his hand as he fucked you with his fingers. “Then stop talking and do something about it,” you shot back, your voice breathy with desire.

Jake chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers only to bring them to his mouth. He sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours as he savored your taste. “Mmh—delicious,” he purred, “but I’m not done playing with you yet.”

Before you could protest, he was pushing your thighs apart and settling between them. His tongue delved into your folds, lapping at your arousal like a man starved. You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he devoured your pussy with single-minded intensity.

He worked you over mercilessly, his tongue and lips and teeth finding all the right spots to drive you wild. You bucked against his face, your thighs trembling as the pleasure built inside you. Just when you thought you might burst, Jake would back off, leaving you desperate and aching for release.

“Jake, please,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair in a futile attempt to guide him back to where you needed him most, “I need to cum. Please let me cum.”

He lifted his head, his chin glistening as he looked up at you. “Not yet,” he shook his head, his fingers continuing their maddeningly slow circles on your clit, “I want to hear you scream first.”

“I fucking can’t!” You breathed out, trying to control your moans again, “someone’s gonna hear and—ah—complain about it,” you said, which only made him scoff. 

“Is that it, hm? Have it your way then, princess,” he mumbled, yanking your soiled panties down all the way, balling it up in his first to make a gag out of it and shoving it down your mouth, “now you can scream all your want, Y/N.” He said, taking your name in his deep voice. 

And if you weren’t crazy before, now you had reached your limit of madness, even a poke from his side was like a pleasant burning wound to your skin, his actions also made you realize just how hungry Jake was for being the one in control. 

You squirmed beneath Jake, feeling utterly at his mercy as he continued his torturous teasing. The gag in your mouth muffled your moans but couldn’t silence them completely, much to Jake’s enjoyment. Your body arched, yearning for more, desperate for release.

“Such a needy lil’ thing, aren’t you?” Jake growled, his fingers still circling your sensitive bud, “I can feel how wet you are, taste how wet you are, dripping for me, hm?”

His words made you clench, fresh arousal coating his fingers. He gathered some of your slickness and slowly dragged it up to your throbbing clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. Your hips bucked up in hopes of seeking more contact.

“Hm—so responsive,” Jake purred, looking pleased with himself, “I could do this all night—keep you on the edge, begging so desperately for me.”

“Please—” you tried to say around the gag, your eyes pleading, you were so close, teetering on the brink of an explosive climax. Just a little more.

But Jake seemed determined to deny you that satisfaction, easing off right as you were about to fall over into your state of euphoria, frustration bubbled up inside you, mingling with the overwhelming lust coursing through your veins.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, baby,” Jake taunted, nipping at your inner thigh, “I want to hear you scream my name—let everyone know who you belong to.”

His fingers circled, feather-light touches that drove you wild with need. You thrashed beneath him, incoherent noises of desperation spilling from your lips. Jake just chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your plight, removing your gag to hear you gasp loudly, his name on the tip of your tongue. 

Jake was cruel, so cruel the way he denied your orgasm yet again with a smirk playing on his face, a whole one eighty from how he was an hour back and you were crying by now, something he seemed to enjoy too as he licked your face, tasting the salty teardrop you let out, “this makes me wanna ruin you more, y’know?” 

“Fuck—Jake, let me cum please,” you sobbed as he took you in his arms. 

“You wanna cum, hm?” He asked as you settled on his lap, his hard on pressing against your thigh as you nodded, “fuck, you look so pretty crying like that for me, like a doll, a doll for me to use, hm?”

You couldn’t take it anymore, getting off and undoing his pant buttons as he watched you with amusement how you struggled to take off his pants and boxers, only to find his cock waiting for you, hard and proud. 

Jake’s cock was throbbing, hard and ready to burst, as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip in a teasing manner. You could taste the salty beads of precum leaking from his slit, the flavor sending a jolt of desire straight to your core.

“Fuck—baby,” Jake groaned, his fingers threading through your hair as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper into your throat. “Your mouth feels so good. Keep going just like that, good girl.”

You moaned around his length, the vibrations making him shudder. Your own arousal was dripping down your thighs, coating them with your slick essence. The wet sounds of your slurping filled the room, mingling with Jake’s heavy breaths and grunts of pleasure.

“Shit—fuck, take it easy, I won’t be able to hold back," he panted, his grip on your hair tightening, “I’m gonna fucking come down your throat if you keep sucking me like that.”

You redoubled your efforts, eager to taste his release. Your tongue flattened against the underside of his shaft as you sucked harder, determined to milk him of every last drop. Just as you felt him start to swell, signaling his impending orgasm, you pulled away with a pop.

Jake’s eyes jolted open, a mix of confusion and frustration flashing across his face. “What the fuck, baby? Why the fuck did you stop?”

You just smiled coyly up at him, licking your lips. “Because I want you to cum inside me. I want to feel you fill me up with your hot cum, or are you too much of a coward to fuck me?” You teased, your grin making him scoff. 

God he loved you. 

Jake growled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. In a flash, he grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your side, your back pressed firmly against his torso. 

Before you could even process the sudden change in position, he was lined up at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging your slick folds.

“Teasing me will only get you punished,” he warned, his voice low and husky with desire. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

With that promise, he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching as he filled you completely. Jake set a brutal pace, pounding into you with wild abandon.

You let out a sharp cry as Jake’s thick cock stretched you open, filling you so deeply that you could feel him bulging through your lower abdomen. The feeling of his hard length pulsing inside you sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you arch your back and press your ass against him.

“Lord—ah yes,” you gasped, grinding against him, “you’re—so fucking big.”

Jake grunted in response, his fingers digging into your hips as he continued to pound into you at a furious pace. The sounds of skin slapping against skin and your needy moans filled the room, mixing with the creaking of the bed frame beneath you.

“Shit, your cunt is so tight,” Jake mumbled, his breath hot against your neck. “Squeezing my cock like a desperate doll—you were made for me, baby. Made to take my dick and milk me dry.”

His filthy words only heightened your arousal, making you clench even tighter around him. You could feel your orgasm building again, the tension coiling in your core as he hit that special spot deep inside you with each thrust.

“Please don’t stop, not this time,” you pleaded, your nails digging into his thighs. “Fuck me harder, Jake. I’m so fucking close.”

He was quick to flip you over again so you were resting on your back, his hips settling in between you as he held your thighs up, your legs resting on both his shoulders with ease as he snapped into you harder, plunging his cock with more need, as if he was a monster hungry for lust and only lust.

Jake snarled, his hips snapping forward with a newfound vigor. One hand moved around to rub firm circles around your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body began to tremble, your breath coming out in short gasps as you found yourself on the brink of ecstasy.

“Cum for me,” Jake demanded, pinching your clit hard, “I want to feel you cum all over my dick, baby.”

With a scream of his name, you practically exploded, your pussy clamping down around him like a vice as your orgasm crashed over you. Your body convulsed, your back bowing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed through you, which shocked Jake because you weren’t just having an orgasm. 

You were squirting all over his cock. 

Jake followed shortly after, his cock pulsing as he spilled his release deep inside you, as he breathed hard, watching you with surprised eyes.

“Fuck,” he groaned, grinding against you to prolong your shared climax, “you’re so fucking hot, so fucking mine.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his hot cum painting your walls, the sensation making your pussy flutter around his shaft. Jake held you close as you both rode out the aftershocks, his softening cock still buried inside you.

“You’re mine,” he mumbled, “say it.”

“Yours—I’m yours,” you breathed as best as you could. 

“Again.”

“I’m yours, Jake.”

“Fuck—again.”

“So so fucking yours, I’m all yours Jake.”

“Mine,” he whispered, so possessive. 

After a few moments, Jake carefully pulled out and rolled you onto your back. He pressed gentle kisses along your jawline and down your neck, his touch soothing and tender in contrast to the rough passion from moments before.

“That was intense,” he murmured, nuzzling against your collarbone, “I don’t think i’ll ever get enough of you, baby. You’re fucking addictive.”

You smiled up at him, reaching up to cup his face. "I could say the same about you. The way you fuck me, it’s like you’re a fucking beast.”

“Was I too harsh?” He asked, placing soft kisses all over, “I’m sorry I just lost control—you have no idea how badly I need you, I don’t think I can stop,” he confessed. 

You kissed him again, “then don’t stop, just don’t.”

That’s all he needed to hear for the night, that you were finally his, and he was yours. He smirked, the night was just getting started. 

Chapter 10: Hate me less? You love me more. 

You don’t remember how the night ended, not when Jake kept his promise of how you wouldn’t be able to walk anymore once he was done with you, and he was precise about it. He was far from done when he made you fall apart on his cock so many times, you lost count. 

It was a crazy switch up once you both were done, he took care of you, almost like he was made for it, helping you clean up in little bathtub which was definitely too small to fit the both of you, yet he helped you bath, a faint blush on his face as you laughed once he tried to act sly, touching you again when you were so sensitive and overstimulated. 

Turns out, Jake can be super clingy when he has to be, also not letting you go once you get out of the tub, helping you dry your hair, helping you moisturize your body, helping you smile by kissing you every few seconds. 

He held you to sleep, not before hearing you say you actually want him and it’s not a dream. Jake doesn’t remember if he ever felt this way before, this warmth called happiness that you provided him so easily. 

“I love you,” he mumbled to your sleeping figure, he was whipped, already thinking of your future together. Yeah, maybe it all happened too quickly, he still wouldn’t have it any other way. He wouldn’t mind getting through all the hurt again if it meant that he’d wake up to you sleeping next to him—to you loving him. 

It was perhaps the best day of Jake’s life. 

The air felt different today.

Not because of the weather, which was finally warm and breezy after days of storm and stress, but because Jake was walking beside you—not behind, not ahead—beside you. His fingers were laced with yours, his thumb brushing over your skin every few steps like he was still checking if this was real, he still couldn’t believe it. 

It was.

You passed the main quad slowly, in no rush. The two of you didn’t need to say much. Conversations dimmed as you walked through. You could feel the glances, the whispers.

Someone definitely said your name. Then his.

And then, clear as day, they whispered. 

“Wait—are they actually holding hands?”

Jake didn’t flinch.

Not like he would’ve, weeks ago. Not like the boy who couldn’t stand being seen, being known. Instead, he just grabbed your hand a little tighter—casual, sure, and completely unbothered. His expression said it all—Yeah, and?

You chuckled. “Think they’re combusting?”

“Oh, definitely,” he said, tugging you closer with a smugness he barely bothered to hide anymore. “Especially that one girl who’s walking with me, who swore she’d never even look at me.”

“She wasn’t entirely wrong,” you teased. “You were kind of a menace.”

He groaned, tossing his head back, “were?”

You laughed, and it made him smile, soft and full, the kind of smile he used to hide and now gave you freely.

“You’re doing that look again,” he said, side-eyeing you. “Like you’re psychoanalyzing me.”

“Maybe I am. Can’t help it. You’re a walking dissertation, y’know?”

“Yeah? What’s the title?”

You looked up at him with a shrug. “How to fall for someone you’re supposed to hate.”

That made him stop walking.

You blinked, startled, but he was already turning to face you, his hoodie sleeves pushed up just enough to show the fading bruises on his knuckles—old reminders of the version of him you never gave up on.

“I’m glad you did,” he said. “Fall for me, even when I made it so damn hard.”

You smiled slowly, the kind of smile that made his breath catch. “You still do.”

“Yeah, well,” he squeezed your hand, “at least I’m hot.”

You were too busy rolling your eyes to realize you’d just walked past Heeseung and his friends until the entire bench went awkwardly quiet. Heeseung looked up, eyes flicking from your joined hands to your face, and then to Jake—who didn’t even spare him a glance.

He was too focused on you. Too content stealing a bite of your ice cream like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Let’s go,” you muttered, trying not to laugh as you nudged him forward.

Jake followed. No hesitation.

Because this, the hand holding, the quiet teasing, the stares that didn’t matter anymore, this was normal.

And for the first time in his life, Jake finally understood: Normal didn’t mean boring.

It meant chosen. It meant enough.

It meant being yours.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[tahbhie]

Creating Emotionally Devastating Scenes.

Crafting a scene that earns the total sympathy of your readers can be challenging, but it's not impossible. Most emotionally devastating scenes fail at two things, but when these are done right, the results can be powerful.

⚪ The Important Concepts for Writing an Emotionally Devastating Scene

1. The Build-Up,

2. Breaking the Dam.

Before I explain these concepts, let me share a case study.

⚫ Case Study

I wrote a story about a young orphan named Jackie and her younger brother. Their village was burned down, leaving them as the only survivors.

For the next few chapters, readers followed their painful journey and their struggle to survive. The younger brother had a heart problem, and Jackie vowed to become a cardiologist to save him.

She was very ambitious about it, but at the time, it was very ironic. Later in the story, when they encountered a tragic living condition with a family, the brother died while telling his sister how much he missed their parents.

When her brother was fighting for his life, she was sent out of the room, only to be let in again to see his cold, lifeless body.

⚪ Explanation of Concepts

1. The Build-Up

The build-up is extremely important when you aim to convey strong emotions. Here's a secret: if you plan for a scene with strong emotions, start leaving breadcrumbs from the very beginning of the story.

Take the previous case study. I carefully built up their journey so people could easily relate and feel the pain of the older sister during her brother's sudden death.

You need to give the situation enough reason to feel utterly hopeless and devastating. Gradually cultivate the tension until it's ready to let loose.

⚫ Understanding the Use of Breadcrumbs.

Breadcrumbs in stories ensure you utilize the time you have to build up certain emotions around your characters.

At the beginning of my story, Jackie’s fate was already pitiable, but she survived every hurdle. This gave the readers enough to feel for her while still leaning away from the outcome. When I built enough, I introduced her brother's sudden death.

Hence, leave your breadcrumbs while leaning away from the outcome.

⚪ How to Properly Leave Breadcrumbs

When building up your story, consider these elements:

☞⁠ Character Relatability: The characters need to be realistic to draw readers into the story. This helps readers invest themselves in your story.

☞⁠ Realistic Emotional Pain: Just as characters need to be relatable, their emotions need to be realistic and not appear forced.

☞⁠ Create a Strong Emotional Attachment: Give them something they care about or that has the power to ruin their lives in any way. It could be something that makes them happy or something their happiness relies on. When it's time, snatch it away without remorse.

☞⁠ Have a Backstage Struggle: This struggle keeps readers occupied, so they won't see the outcome coming. For example, Jackie’s constant struggle to find food and shelter keeps readers engaged while the impending tragedy looms in the background.

☞⁠ Attach Believable Elements: For a realistic character, emotion, and struggle, attach believable elements. It could be death, ailments, sickness, disorder, disappointment, failure, etc.

Now that we've covered the build-up, let's move on to the next crucial part.

2. Breaking the Dam

This is when you make your readers feel the strong emotions alongside your characters. All the tension you’ve been building up is released, making all emotions come into play.

☞⁠ Break Your Strong Attachment: Cut off your strong attachment from your character when they least expect it or at a point when they couldn't use more struggles (i.e when they are helpless).

This will not only evoke readers’ emotions but also pique their curiosity as they wonder how the character will survive the situation.

☞⁠ Description of Sensory Details to Invoke Emotions: The advice of "show, don't tell" will be really helpful here. It's crucial to ensure that the final execution matches the build-up.

A well-crafted build-up can fall flat if the emotional release isn't handled effectively. To avoid this, blend the climax seamlessly into the narrative, making it feel natural and impactful.

Reblog to save for reference! 💜

[azamonvoid]

Whenever I get reminded of this my urge to both reread the manga and reanimate bsd myself grows more

the reason why people think skk hate e/o is bc bones took out all the silly moments away

this panel will be missed

so will this one

how does bro even know his address

i miss this panel, without it it makes their relationship sm more hostile than it is 💀

the expression will be missed

[moonlightdreamzz]

somewhere between yours, and his

chapter one — what we don’t talk about. | chapter two — half-truths and jungle juice

summary. you and jungwon are just best friends. housemates. you know, the kind who kiss when no one’s looking. the kind who sleep too close and never talk about it. the kind who swear it’s nothing, even when it’s everything.

then jake’s cousin sunghoon shows up—quiet, sharp, a little too pretty, and acting like he’s above it all. he’s only supposed to be visiting. just passing through. but he stays. and he watches you. and he starts saying things no one else dares to say.

jungwon’s the one who’s always been there. sunghoon’s the one who makes your skin burn. you’re stuck in the middle of something that isn’t quite love—but it’s not not love, either. it’s messy. it’s reckless. it’s kind of a problem. but it might also be the best kind of trouble you’ve ever been in.

pairing. jungwon x reader x sunghoon.

genre. college!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, smut.

themes. love triangle, messy relationships and decisions, love or lust?

authors note. really hope you all enjoy this. i love a good love triangle with a complex plot—nothing hits harder than wanting two people for completely different reasons. this one’s close to my heart, so buckle up. it’s soft, it’s messy, and nobody’s playing fair.

the morning smells like cinnamon, overcooked eggs, and the same damn candle jake always insists on lighting when girls are coming over—vanilla something. you hate it, but you never blow it out.

light filters through the living room windows in wide, lazy rectangles, catching on dust in the air like static. it’s a thursday that feels like a sunday. slow. syrupy. too warm inside, too cold outside.

you’re sitting on the kitchen counter in shorts and someone else’s hoodie. you’re not sure if it’s jake’s or jay’s or jungwon’s, but it’s oversized and smells like detergent and boy, so you keep it. bare legs swinging. phone in your hand. not texting anyone back.

there’s music playing—lofi, soft and beatless—because jungwon hates silence in the mornings.

he’s in the kitchen with you, halfway through scrambling eggs he’s already messed up once. tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek like he’s solving a puzzle harder than breakfast. his sleeves are pushed up. hair still messy from sleep. he hasn’t shaved.

his voice is hoarse when he says, “you could help, you know.”

you look up from your phone. blink at him, bored. “i could. but i like watching you struggle.”

he cuts you a look, quick and half-smiling. he always does that when you flirt with him like it doesn’t mean anything. you do it more than you admit.

“you’re the worst,” he mutters, but he’s smiling for real now. you see the dimples.

“and you love me.”

he doesn’t answer. just hands you the first plate and turns back to the stove.

jungwon and you have this… thing. it isn’t a thing. but it is.

you’re best friends. but not like “haha we’re besties” best friends. more like i-know-how-you-like-your-toast, i-know-what-time-you-cried-last-week, i-know-you-well-enough-to-sit-in-your-silence best friends. you have history, but not the kind you tell people about. not the kind you even tell each other about.

just moments. stacks of them. sleepovers that turn into shared beds. movie nights that end with you curled into his chest pretending not to feel the way he stiffens when your hips shift.

he never pulls away. he also never makes a move.

you bring the plate to the couch, plop down cross-legged. he follows, and sits beside you, thigh to thigh— remote in hand like always, already queuing up something silly on youtube.

“why do we watch food vlogs while we eat food?” you ask.

“motivation.”

“you’re literally eating.”

“doesn’t mean i’m not planning my next meal.”

his knee bumps yours and doesn’t move. you’re not paying attention to the screen. you’re watching his hands.

he doesn’t wear rings like jake or bracelets like jay. just clean wrists, long fingers, callused in the places his engineering tools left behind.

you like his hands too much.

breakfast turns into scrolling. scrolling turns into dozing. you’re not sure who falls asleep first, but when you open your eyes, you’re leaning into him, his head tilted against yours. breathing even. he’s warm. always so warm.

you don’t move. just stay there, eyes half open, watching the soft rise of his chest beneath his crewneck. watching the light move across the floor.

his arm shifts. wraps around you. not tight. just enough. like habit.

like he forgets he’s not supposed to do that.

you stretch. slowly. limbs falling away from jungwon’s like you weren’t just nestled against his heartbeat. like you haven’t had his mouth on yours before.

not that it means anything. just drunk. just heat and music and mouths moving too close.

just that one night in jake’s room after everyone else passed out—when you ended up on top of him, grinding slow to whatever song is playing. his hands stayed on your waist. yours in his hair. his breath breaking when you moaned into his neck like it’s nothing.

or that second night in the hallway, when he kissed you so hard you almost fell over—half-dressed, giggling—until he pulled away too fast and said,

“we should stop.”

so you stop. you never tell anyone. he never brings it up. but it lingers like a bruise you keep pressing.

you blink hard, shake the memory off, and look over at jungwon. his hand rests against his stomach, head tipped back on the couch. his eyes meet yours. soft. unreadable.

the front door opened. you heard it before you saw it.

then a voice,

“yo.” it’s jake.

“couch potatoes,” jake called from the kitchen. “my cousin’s coming soon.”

jungwon grunted. “huh?”

“sunghoon. remember? i told y’all. he’s visiting for a few days. thinking about transferring.”

“oh. yeah.”

jungwon sits up. rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm like he didn’t just almost hold you all the way to sleep. he sees what you’re wearing. the hoodie. oversized and too familiar. not his.

“you should change,” he says.

you raise a brow. “why?”

“you’re wearing jay’s.”

you smirk. “jealous?”

“just saying.”

but there it is. the flicker in his eyes. that flash of memory neither of you ever name.

you pull the hoodie tighter around you anyway.

that moment hums in the space between you. like an unanswered question. like something half-written.

jake walks into the living room like he owns the place. (which he kind of does—his name’s not on the lease, but somehow he always has the aux and the fridge key.)

he’s barefoot, eating dry cereal out the box. he glances at you on the couch, then at jungwon, who’s now pretending he wasn’t just emotionally undressing you with his eyes.

“so listen,” jake starts, crunching mid-sentence, “y’all know that party at gamma tonight?”

you raise an eyebrow. jungwon grunts like yeah.

jake waves it off. “yeah, well, i’m thinking we skip it. bring the party here. you feel me?”

you blink. “wait, what?”

he shrugs, like it’s nothing. “just for the vibe. for sunghoon. bro’s swearing we’re lame over here. like we don’t got it. like this whole school’s boring as hell.”

“so you wanna throw a whole function just to prove a point?” you ask.

jake points at you with a finger full of cereal. “exactly.”

you glance at jungwon. he shrugs like he’s indifferent, but he’s already pulling out his phone to text jay.

“i mean,” jake continues, flopping down into the armchair like he’s pitching a business plan, “we’re already here. it’s our house. no one’s gotta worry about getting home drunk. and he’ll get the vibe. and maybe finally shut up about how ‘lit’ the city is compared to this place.”

“what city is he even from?” you ask.

“malibu, by way of seoul. but, like, the rich part,” jake says, making a face. “he thinks he’s better than everybody.”

“is he?” jungwon mumbles.

jake throws a cushion at him. you dodge it instead.

“nah, he’s cool,” jake says after a beat, “he’s just got that face, you know? the kind you wanna punch even when he’s being nice.”

you snort. “sounds promising.”

“don’t worry. you’ll love him.” jake grins at you. you do not return it.

jungwon taps something into his phone. “jay says he’s down. sunoo too.”

you sigh. “so it’s really happening.”

“oh, it’s happening,” jake says, standing up and already heading toward the bluetooth speaker like a man with a mission. “by the weekend, this house is gonna remind sunghoon exactly why we don’t need to transfer anywhere.”

he disappears down the hall, yelling something about liquor and chips.

you and jungwon sit in silence for a second, and the air changes.

he stretches his arm behind the couch, eyes on the ceiling. “you gonna get cute for him?”

you look at him sideways. “who?”

he doesn’t look at you. just shrugs, like the question was nothing. “the rich cousin.”

you smirk. lean back against the cushion, letting your bare leg press against his jeans. “you want me to?”

he doesn’t answer. but he doesn’t move away either.

the silence stretches.

not awkward. not yet. but thick—like you’ve both just remembered something you’re supposed to forget.

the tv’s still on, playing some random food vlog neither of you are watching. your leg stays pressed to his, warm through the denim. his hand is right there. resting on the couch cushion between you, fingers curled slightly like he’s about to move but doesn’t.

you glance down at it. then at him. his jaw is tight. his eyes are still on the ceiling like he’s trying not to look at you. you slide your fingers across the space. slow. just enough to brush his. and when you feel his pinky twitch against yours—you don’t stop.

your hand finds his. you don’t hold it, not really. just… let your fingers tangle halfway. and he lets them.

his breath hitches, barely audible.

you look at him. he’s already looking at you. eyes low. soft. like he’s scared to blink.

you both lean in at the same time.

no one speaks. your nose brushes his. your fingers tighten just a little. his lips part—just enough. your eyes flick to his mouth.

and that’s when it happens.

his phone rings.

it’s loud in the silence. ugly and immediate. the default ringtone, buzzing across the table like it’s mad.

jungwon jolts back like he got burned. you both jump a little, breath caught mid-moment. he pulls his hand away fast, clearing his throat like it helps.

“…it’s jay,” he mumbles, already grabbing his phone.

you sit back slow, trying to look chill while your heart hammers against your ribs.

he answers.

“yo… yeah, we’re here. no, she’s—she’s right here. yeah, we told her. yeah, it’s fine.”

you stand quietly. walk past him. don’t say a word. you head straight for your room, the door clicking shut behind you.

he watches you go, phone still pressed to his ear, heart in his throat. he doesn’t say it out loud, but it’s all over him. he wishes the phone hadn’t rung. he wishes you had kissed him. he wishes he’d let it happen.

even though you never talked about it, you still slept in his bed that night.

he didn’t say anything when you walked past your room and climbed under his covers—just lifted the blanket like he always does, turned off the light, and let you curl into his chest like nothing almost happened.

he held you all night. he didn’t try anything. he didn’t say anything, either.

but you felt him kiss your forehead when he thought you were asleep. and when he finally drifted off, you stayed awake a little longer, watching the way his fingers twitched against your arm like he was dreaming about holding you tighter.

you didn’t bring it up the next morning. neither did he.

and then last night—same thing. no talking. no explaining. just his bed and his body curved around yours like a habit that never got broken.

now it’s friday, and jake’s tearing through the house like a man possessed.

he’s blasting music from the kitchen, half-dressed, holding two bags of red solo cups and yelling about how no one’s done anything he asked.

“we literally skipped class for this,” he shouts, tossing chips onto the counter like that solves something. “the least y’all can do is act like you’ve been to a party before.”

sunoo is lighting candles in the living room like it’s a spa retreat, muttering to himself about ambiance and scent mixing.

jay in his room changing for the third time.

jungwon’s wiping down the kitchen counters, pretending like he doesn't get the best sleep of his life when it's you on his chest. like he isn't utterly in love with you. it doesn't help that you're still in his hoodie, the same one you've been sleeping in for the past two nights. all he can think about is how you’re so...beautiful, and so his. at least that's how it makes him feel when you crawl into his arms. when you wear his clothes. when you kiss his cheek in the middle of the night because you think he's sleeping. so why can't he just...go for it?

and you? you’re sitting on the edge of the armrest, sipping something pink and dangerous out of a plastic cup, watching the house shift into something new.

the lights are dimmer. the music’s louder. the vibe’s getting blurry around the edges.

that’s when you hear it— the knock at the door.

not loud. just one, then another. like he’s not here to make a scene. like he doesn’t have to.

jake practically leaps across the room to open it, and there he is.

sunghoon.

black jeans, black hoodie, black duffel slung over one shoulder like he didn’t try but somehow still looks better than everyone in the house. his expression is blank. his face is sharp. he gives jake a nod, steps inside, eyes sweeping the room.

and then he sees you.

he doesn’t smile. he just looks.

and something about it makes your skin feel too tight.

you don’t say anything. neither does he. but the shift is immediate. like the air’s not yours anymore.

he’s taller than you expected. taller than jake, even. but lean—built like someone who moves fast but never runs. he doesn’t look like someone you’re supposed to be impressed by. he looks like someone who knows you already are.

his face is sharp. every angle defined like it was drawn with a ruler and no eraser. a high nose bridge. cut jawline. straight brows that make his expression unreadable. but it’s not just the bone structure—it’s the stillness. the way he doesn’t fidget. doesn’t smile too fast. doesn’t feel the need to do anything but exist.

your eyes meet for half a second. long enough to register how clear his skin is. how cold his stare feels. you look away first.

“this is my cousin,” jake announces, slapping a hand on sunghoon’s shoulder. “sunghoon. just got here from cali. he’s here for the weekend. maybe longer, if he likes it.”

sunghoon nods. looks around, taking in the living room like he’s scanning for threats. his eyes settle on you again.

“yo,” he says, voice low and casual. he nods once. “you’re…?”

jake says your name at the same time you do. sunghoon’s mouth twitches like he wants to smile, but doesn’t.

“cool,” he says. “nice to meet you.”

his voice isn’t cocky. it’s calm. a little too calm. you just nod. no words. just sip your drink and look somewhere—anywhere—else.

but he keeps looking. not long. not creepy. just… like he sees something he doesn’t quite get yet. and he’s deciding whether or not he wants to.

“you good?” jake asks him, grabbing a cup off the counter.

“yeah.” sunghoon sets his bag down by the door. “just tired. this place is nice though.”

“he thought we were lame,” jake tells you, clearly offended. “texted me last week like, ‘if your school’s so fun, why’s everyone online acting depressed?’”

“i said that once,” sunghoon mutters, taking the drink jake hands him. “and i wasn’t wrong.”

“he’s a hater,” jake says, then points at you. “she’s gonna change your mind.”

you blink. “what?”

“you got main character energy,” jake grins. “you’ll bring him around.”

you scoff. “he looks like he’d hate main characters.”

sunghoon actually smiles at that. just a little. and then he says, “not always.”

jungwon watches from the kitchen, still wiping the same spot on the counter that’s already clean.

he’s not eavesdropping. not really, he just… hears everything.

the way jake’s hyping sunghoon up. the way your voice dips when you respond. the way you don’t say much, but your body shifts to face him just a little more than usual.

you’re still holding your drink. still wearing his hoodie. but it’s like you’ve already floated somewhere else.

sunghoon doesn’t say much, but that’s the part that bothers jungwon the most.

he doesn’t need to. he’s got that look—cool and unreadable, like he knows exactly how he’s being perceived. like he knows the effect he has.

and you’re not falling for it, not really, but jungwon can see it. the little spark of curiosity in your eyes. the way your lips twitch at sunghoon’s joke. the way you sip your drink slower now, like you’re giving yourself a reason to stay planted in that moment.

he presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek.

he knows he’s not allowed to feel some type of way. he had chances. too many. he never says the right thing.

but watching sunghoon look at you like he’s already picking you apart—like he’s interested and not even pretending otherwise—it makes something cold settle in his chest.

he wipes the counter again, but he doesn’t realize his grip on the cloth has tightened. fuck.