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onaswife · 3 days ago

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Not so confident

Couple: Kika Nazareth x Reader

Au! omegaverse, alpha x omega

from this request:

You are a 21-year-old junior. You had traveled to Spain after applying for a scholarship to a renowned university to study one of your greatest passions: photography. Since you were little, you had begun to develop a love for the camera, capturing the important moments around you. When your parents gave you a camera for your 6th birthday, you knew that was what you wanted to do for the rest of your life: capturing important moments, or the beautiful things you always managed to see when you went out.

At 13, when they used to ask you what you wanted to do at school, your classmates and sometimes your teachers would make fun of you, although you always thought they were the stupid ones for not wanting to follow what they really wanted but instead following what made the most money.

From police officers and soldiers to soccer players and singers were the most repeated answers in your classroom. When it was your turn to answer the question, a few seconds passed before the entire classroom erupted in mocking laughter. Some even whispered that you would starve to death while you simply ignored them. The passion for it was what ran through your veins; the mockery no longer hurt you.

At 17, you had managed to participate in an exhibition at a local gallery, where you were able to display some of the photographs you had captured throughout your life.

The following year, you applied to a university in Barcelona. You wanted to change your surroundings and see what new things you would discover. It had been three years since you made that important decision, and you were already stretched thin with the rent on your small apartment, not very habitable, but sufficient for the basics (sleeping, bathing).

It was a cozy place. In the afternoons, it was filled with students with their laptops, and in the mornings, it was usually adults or people who obviously worked in important companies. It was always like that, until one day someone you never thought you'd meet showed up in person. Two of the greatest players from the most important and famous local team: FC Barcelona.

It's not that you were entirely ignorant on those matters; you knew Barcelona was a place where soccer was lived and breathed, so you'd learned something from your coworkers and classmates, but it never occurred to you that you'd meet a world-class athlete.

You listened from your seat as Daniel took the order while you felt and listened to Alicent and Grace talking about how good they looked in person. From what you'd been able to hear, it was Alexia and Marta, both team captains, or well, that's what Grace had told you when you asked who they were (after scolding you and telling you you were completely ignorant).

"Your duty will be to deliver the order. I don't trust either of these two to approach them, understand, Guiri?" You looked at him silently, processing what he'd called you, then nodded. "I've been here for three years, and I speak Spanish and Catalan better than you, silly." Daniel laughed at your words and then walked past you, checking on the girls and giving them the order not to deliver anything.

Meanwhile, you started cleaning the counter, waiting for one of your friends to yell out that the order was ready, listening to the murmurs of the customers. You liked that moment; you could always see the different customers as a different world. You often started thinking and creating stories about what their lives could be like, how they got their scars, or what they did for work, what their homes were like. Grace often accompanied you during those breaks and gave you more ideas of what they would be like.

You were staring at a fixed point on the wall until you felt someone tugging at your apron. You quickly turned around to find your best friend, reaching for where the already-made order was placed. You sighed softly before whispering your thanks and going to deliver the order to the table.

You came out from behind the counter, walking calmly, holding two Americanos, a piece of cake, and a croissant. You arrived and, with a soft whisper, asking permission so as not to interrupt the conversation you were having, placed the food on the table. "Do you need anything else?" You stood up straight, waiting for an answer. "No, thank you very much." The one you recognized as Marta replied, "Okay, enjoy." She gave a small smile and returned to your place behind the counter.

"What did they say? Is it true they're prettier in person? What do you think of them?" You began to feel dizzy at the questions that kept coming from your friends and colleagues.

"Stop bothering the Guiri, you two lesbians thirsty for beautiful women." Daniel appeared ready to rescue you, while giving the girls little pushes. "There are more orders to make, go to work, that's what we're paid for." You thanked him and went to do your job as well.

The days had passed, and you were in the middle of a work break in the cafeteria (actually, you'd taken two days off to work on a university project). On Thursday afternoon, you left your apartment and headed to the cafeteria. You thought that by leaving your small apartment, you might have more ideas for the project, and what better place than there.

When you arrived, everything was calm, more so than usual, although it didn't seem strange to you. You sat at your self-proclaimed table, one that was in a small, quiet corner, not too close to the windows but not too far either. You liked that because it made you uncomfortable for people passing by to see you sitting there, but at the same time, you liked it because you could look outside without anyone looking back. The internet was also great there, so the editing software worked wonderfully, even though your laptop couldn't run many programs anymore due to the time you'd had it.

It had been two hours since you'd arrived at the cafeteria. Every now and then, Daniel or Pablo (another cafeteria worker, but on a different shift than yours) would come over to ask if you needed anything or offer you something to eat, which you always declined. You weren't hungry, and you didn't have much money to spend on such a treat. Less than 10 minutes earlier, Daniel had come over to ask if you wanted anything when, once again, you felt a burning gaze.

At first, you didn't think anything of it. Normally, when it happened like this, it was because some guy was trying to convince himself to approach you and buy you something, or sometimes, you assumed, it was because someone was lost in their thoughts while staring at you. This time, it wasn't like that.

When you turned around to see where and from whom the gaze you felt was coming from, you locked eyes with a very pretty brunette who was apparently accompanied by a tall blonde. You stood admiring her, almost as if you'd had a crush on this stranger. The girl looked at you again, this time being caught, and showing a cute blush as she gave you a shy smile. You, on the other hand, stood there doing nothing, your expression neutral as your heart raced, thinking of a thousand scenarios about why she kept looking at you and giving you those smiles that seemed harmless.

But they weren't; there was nothing harmless about them when they were capable of making your heart flutter so hard while you felt your cheeks heat up and it became harder to breathe normally, accompanied by that feeling so movie-like like butterflies in your stomach. Although this felt more like 500 elephants fighting inside your abdomen, trying to get out of there.

When you came to your senses again two minutes later, you no longer saw the brunette standing in front of the counter, causing you to quickly start searching the entire place, still trying not to look like a stalker. But when you didn't see it in the usual places that customers chose, you let out a resigned sigh as you turned your gaze back to the computer that was crying out for your attention so it could end the suffering of working.

You were about to continue working when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow sit down in front of you. You felt that excitement again, wondering if it was the brunette from a few minutes ago, but your disappointment was great when you saw Grace, a colleague and university colleague, as well as your best friend back in Spain, sit down in front of you, also taking out her laptop and starting to work after greeting you cheerfully. You only responded with a small nod.

And so it went for another 30 minutes, when someone stopped your exhaustive work (which consisted of choosing a photo, looking at it, rating it as the best one, only to realize it wasn't, then starting to search for a new one on your camera card, and then repeating the cycle again), you looked up, finding a tall, green-eyed blonde already looking at you with a warm smile.

"Sorry to bother you. You're obviously busy, but my friend thought you were pretty and wanted to know if she could have your number… I'm sorry if I'm the one asking, but she's being really shy, usually she's not" You felt your cheeks blush when you heard the blonde speak. You looked at Grace, hoping she would somehow help you, but when you turned to look at her, her mouth was slightly open, as were her eyes, and she seemed more in shock than you.

You decided to look away when the girl looked into your eyes, nervous to see what she would do or how she would react. You continued with your process of choosing a photo.

"If you don't want to, that's fine. I don't want to bother you either." Hearing her voice again, you reacted as you turned to look at her. "Sure, sure, I can." You sounded more desperate than you intended. You cleared your throat and spoke again with a smile. "Sure, no problem."

You looked for some paper to write on and a pencil that wrote well to begin writing your number. When you finished, you handed it to her, still with a stunned smile on your face.

"There's the number… and the name, you know." When you said the last thing, your voice trembled a little, but it seemed the other girl didn't notice. She simply gave you a small nod while murmuring a soft thank you and left for her table, where the brunette was already waiting for her.

Days passed, exactly 4 since you gave your number to a stranger for her friend, whom you fell in love with, and you were back at work without the stress of having to hand in some project the teacher had come up with to ruin his students' lives.

It was around 9 o'clock when, while you were helping Alicent place the orders, Daniel approached you two. "Y/N, I need you to help Grace deliver the orders. I'll stay behind to help Alicent finish." You turned around as you left the cloth you were previously using on the counter. "Sure, I'll let you know if anything happens or if you need anything."

You began placing the coffees and sides on a tray while looking at the receipts to see which table they were on so you wouldn't make a mistake when delivering. You politely greeted some customers, and with the regulars, you stayed a few more minutes to chat with them before leaving to continue delivering.

You were going for the last coffee, a simple order, coffee with a ham sandwich at table 9. You were distracted as you tried to avoid some small children who had come with their parents and also backpacks lying on the floor that could make you fall.

When you arrived, still looking at the floor and some kids apologizing for the mess, you left your coffee on the table while whispering a soft greeting, this time going unanswered.

You looked up and found the brunette from a few days ago, this time sitting alone at your favorite table, a tender blush covering her cheeks.

You saw her open her mouth, wanting to reply, only to close it again. It caused you a bit of amusement and tenderness; she looked like a fish opening and closing its mouth.

"If you need anything else, you can go to the counter or ask my colleague." You turned around and went back to helping Alicent or Daniel. As much as you wanted to stay and talk to the pretty stranger, if Daniel saw you, he might scold you, and that was the last thing you wanted at that moment.

Half an hour after that brief encounter, you saw her again, this time at the counter, as if she were looking for something or someone. It was Alicent who helped her, since Daniel was on the phone in his office. The moment her gaze met mine, she fell silent.

Seeing this, Alicent followed the brunette's gaze to where she was still staring, almost hypnotized, and found you, who also stood there, like an idiot, staring at her.

Alicent let out a small laugh, which brought you out of the small trance you were in. You moved, not knowing where you were as you heard the brunette talking to your companion again. Apparently, she wasn't Spanish or Catalan, but her accent still made it very clear that she wasn't a local.

You walked over to where the dessert samples were placed and began to place them where they were missing while you were lost in your thoughts, until you felt someone give you a push from behind you. It was Alicent, who was pointing behind you where the brunette was standing calmly waiting for your attention.

"Sorry, do you need anything?" You quickly approached, leaving Alicent behind to see if the girl needed anything.

"Hi… sorry to bother you, but my friend asked for your number a few days ago." You fell silent upon hearing that. Had the blonde made a mistake, or was she trying to play a joke on her? "I wish I could have asked you in person and not through other people." You let out the unintentional sigh you were holding as a smile slowly appeared on your face.

"Ummm… sure, I guess it was the best thing, or well, the ideal… sorry." Your voice trembled with nerves.

"Francisca, but my friends call me Kika. Nice to meet you." You saw her hand extended towards you and without hesitation, you took it in yours. It felt soft.

The visits to the cafe where you worked were becoming more frequent, sometimes with teammates like Ellie, Esme, Frido, Alexia, Aitana, or Ingrid. All her friends had noticed Kika's crush on the girl who usually served them, so they always made more orders when she delivered their coffees. Sometimes they ordered things they wouldn't even eat, just to see Kika being a nervous mess who couldn't utter a word, which was unusual for someone like Kika, who couldn't stay quiet for more than two minutes.

"Y/N, nice to meet you too."

It had been at least five months since Kika met you and started hanging around where you worked, and also since you started writing to each other.

Kika was everything you wanted in an alpha: she was sensitive and affectionate, and she always seemed like the kindest and most tender person to you.

And Kika, well, she was falling more in love with you every day. She'd been trying one week to ask you out to dinner or a date, but every time she was about to ask you, she'd get cold feet and ask something she'd come up with in a moment of nerves.

The first time, she was actually willing to pop the question. She kept telling herself it wasn't something to be so nervous about, it wasn't like she was asking you to marry her or anything like that. It was just a simple date so she could get to know you better and see you for more than the 20 minutes she spent in the cafeteria.

She ordered the same thing as always while she sat down at her usual table, which over time had become her favorite. Hilariously, it was your favorite table, and even more hilarious, you both liked it for the same reason.

I waited about five minutes before Grace approached to ask her (mostly out of habit of serving the customers who always came to sit down), but when she saw who it was, she simply greeted her, turned around, and returned to her place at the bar while giving Alicent her order. While you were waiting on a table not far from where Kika was sitting, you were looking for her with your eyes.

Kika kept repeating the same words she'd been saying to herself since she woke up that day. It was normal to ask someone out. She always asked girls if they wanted to go out with her to walk the streets of Barcelona, but they weren't you; they were friends, and she felt a sisterly affection for them. However, things were still a little confusing regarding you. Every time you spoke, Kika felt her heart beat faster, almost as if she were training or playing a 90-minute game, and she'd dare say even faster. She always wanted to be present in your day. And of course, every day, every minute that passed, Kika continued to fall in love with you, with how you told her about a class you had that day, with the photos you'd taken—that was something that made her fall even more in love.

So yes, it was more difficult to ask you out, because unlike the other girls, she didn't feel that need to be your chosen alpha. To be your partner.

When she saw you minutes after finishing her coffee at the bar, she bravely approached you to talk to you and finally pop the question, but she regretted it halfway through when she saw you talking happily with a boy, the same one you had been serving when she arrived.

Many thoughts flooded the alpha's mind when she saw you in that situation, so she decided that this wouldn't be the day to ask you out. And maybe it could be the day to ask if you had a partner or not.

The second time was two days after that brief moment of doubt about whether you were single or not. The answer to the question felt like it had won the World Cup for Kika; she screamed, jumped, and ran all over her apartment celebrating your refusal.

That day was in the afternoon. She knew from your words that you had switched shifts that day because you had to do some university paperwork and hand in some work, so she arrived fully motivated to talk to you.

Already feeling like she owned the place from so much going on there, she sat down in her seat and waited patiently for you to uncover some clients. When you fixed your gaze on the new customer who had arrived and realized it was Kika, a big smile spread across your face, and you waved to her, which Kika waved back.

When you were free, you walked quickly, almost anxiously, to her table, already with her coffee ready. You placed it on the table in front of her and sat down facing her.

"How was your day today? How was training? How many goals did you score, huh?" Your smile never left your face. Every time something related to Kika was involved, it was inevitable that your face would be smiling and pink.

Kika couldn't think of anything else but how soft your hand felt on hers. "Yeah… sure… really hot, yeah." Her words came out as whispers, and she couldn't form coherent sentences as she felt your touch, even if it was just like that.

"It was good. It's so hot. I don't think I've gotten used to all the heat in Barcelona yet," you laughed. You understood perfectly what she meant. When you first arrived, you had a lot of problems with the heat and also heat strokes. You couldn't imagine how bad Kika was having it being a professional athlete.

"I totally understand. To be honest, it wasn't until my second year that I was able to get used to the hellish heat here. Now it's more bearable. Poor you." You reached out your hand until you placed it on Kika's hand resting on the table, pouting slightly as you finished speaking.

"What else did you do today?" You were going to ask her about her day again, but unfortunately for both of you, the little bell above the entrance door rang, signaling that there were new customers. You quickly apologized to Kika and returned to your spot behind the bar.

Kika sighed when she stopped feeling your hand, and almost defeatedly, she lowered her head. She felt like she was going to cry from the embarrassment of not being able to form a coherent sentence when she spoke to you face to face.

She slowly got up from her seat and left the money on the table, leaving after watching you fill up with new customers. She didn't want to look at your face because of the embarrassment she felt. She told herself she wanted to be her normal self and show you that she was a worthy alpha, an alpha who served, not an alpha who couldn't speak because of nerves. But when she saw that smile that lit up your face like a giant lantern, she gave up on all those thoughts.

This time, it took her four days to plan how to ask you out. She had to ask Ellie to pretend to be you to practice what to say. It must be said that Ellie still makes fun of it, even though she secretly found it very sweet on Kika's part.

Now Kika was returning home with two problems: the first was practicing how to properly ask you out, and the second was dealing with the erection that was starting to grow in her pants when she saw you bending over to clean a table.

She talked to all the alphas she thought might be able to help her. It started with Alexia, then Irene, Marta, Caro, and even close friends. Everyone agreed that she had to be authentic, put aside the nerves they'd all felt at the time, and be honest with the person she wanted to ask out. That day she went with renewed spirits and a single mission: to leave that cafeteria with a date with the beautiful omega she'd fallen in love with.

She arrived earlier that day, sat at her table, and waited. 10 minutes passed, and she waited. 20 minutes passed, and she continued waiting, until her phone rang with a notification.

"Sorry I didn't let you know. Maybe you're not interested, but I won't be going to work today. I asked for the day off to rest a little since I'm feeling ill. xo"

Kika sighed, a long sigh as she thought about what she could do. She had less than 15 minutes left to leave for the Johan Cruyff, where she had a match today. She'd have to be late.

With that idea in mind, she got up and walked straight to her car. Before she even left the cafeteria, she was stopped by Ingrid and Mapi, who were just entering. That day, she couldn't make it, or at least not Kika.

The game was against Valencia, and you were excited, accompanied by Grace and David, another of your friends from university. They had both convinced you to go see a Barcelona game, and to be honest, you really wanted to see Kika play.

You went to a mall and found a jersey store. The guys said it was a cheaper option than going to the club's official store, so you bought it there. You had the number 18 on the back and Kika's name.

You got up early and did everything you had to do. By 10 a.m., you were already free, so you told your friends to get together. You had to buy a jersey to support the team, although you weren't sure if you'd have enough money to buy it.

Unconsciously, she was already leaving her mark you.

You were carrying a backpack with a jacket in case it got too cold, your cards, and a poster. You were going to ask the boys for help, but for fear of being made fun of, you only asked Grace for help. It was a question you'd been wanting to ask her for a long time, but you'd been too afraid to ask. You'd seen many times how Kika seemed to want to tell you something, but she never did.

Thirty minutes before the game started, you entered the stadium. You'd always heard about the team; it was impossible not to, but watching it, experiencing it, seeing so many people turn out to watch them made you feel so excited.

You saw Kika come out to warm up; from what David told you, Kika would be a starter. You didn't even listen to him or pay attention anymore; you were so focused on watching Kika socialize with her teammates and hearing so many people chanting her name made your chest swell with pride, so much so that it could explode.

The match started off pretty well until the 15th minute, when a small defensive error led to a goal. From what you could see on the big screen, it was scored by the other team's number 7. You turned your gaze to where Kika was talking to the rest of the team, cheering them on.

0-1, 15th minute.

Three minutes later, a goal was scored for Barcelona. You celebrated with the kids, while everyone chanted Alexia's name. You couldn't help but do the same, following the crowd's behavior. You cheered Alexia's name, watching Kika hug her and look so happy. When the ball rolled back onto the field, you sat back down while taking a sip of water, your throat beginning to feel dry. The following minutes were completely in Barcelona's favor. They had good control of the ball and had created several good scoring opportunities, and the ball had rarely dropped so far back as to touch their own half.

1-1, minute 18.

The game started in the 21st minute with a ball from number 5 (you hadn't learned all their names yet, so you were guided by their numbers on their backs). A direct pass to the tall girl wearing number 2 followed by a short pass to Ingrid, number 23, who took the ball and crossed halfway across the field, giving a through ball to Frido, the blonde girl who had asked for your number for Kika and who also frequented the cafeteria with her partner. She made a center pass to number 11, whom you recognized as Alexia, and she gave a through ball straight to the penalty spot, where Kika appeared and finished the play with a beautiful goal.

Watching Kika receive the ball, you couldn't help but stand up, nervously biting your nail, eagerly waiting to see how it would end. When you saw it was a goal, you started screaming and jumping while celebrating with the other fans. You turned to see Grace, and she was just as euphoric as you. The two of you hugged each other while continuing to jump.

2-1 in the 22nd minute.

"God, girl, I love your girl for showing up at the right moment and giving us the lead!" David was the one who shouted close to your ear so you could hear clearly over all the noise.

The first half ended without any more scoring chances. Both teams were already looking a little tired, but eager to keep going and finish the game with a win.

In the 62nd minute, you saw the big screen show that Kika would be substituted and Pina would be brought onto the field. You saw her happily wave to her other teammates on the bench.

You continued watching the game, reacting to each opportunity. When you saw number 17 find the ball and look at the goal, you knew it would end in a goal. According to the statistics provided by David and Grace, Ewa, number 17, was becoming the team's top scorer.

3-1, minute 66.

The goal started with Ewa recovering the ball, then she turned and shot straight at goal, scoring a magnificent goal that the entire crowd began to celebrate.

The match ended 4-1, with the fourth goal scored by Frido and Aitana, also great players.

When you saw the players shake hands and begin to interact with the crowd, you quickly walked over and took out of your backpack the poster you and your friend had made a few days ago. You stood proudly near where Kika was taking pictures with fans, responding to them, joking, and happily signing shirts.

The moment her gaze met yours, you saw her almost drop the marker she was holding and her mouth slightly opened, then she formed a big smile. She looked down at the poster you were holding and felt her brain begin to short-circuit.

"Kikinha, do you want me to get a coffee? Or a date?"

It was an understatement to say that Kika wasn't expecting any of this, not even your presence in the stands, much less the poster. She kept thinking you were sick at your apartment and that she should stop by a pharmacy to check on you.

She hurried over to you, feeling her heart pounding and her hands sweating and shaking.

"I thought you'd be at your apartment… I thought you were sick." You leaned over the protective grille. "It was a white lie. I couldn't tell you the surprise. I would have ruined it." Kika smiled as she shook her head and reread the sign. She really wanted to keep reading it to see if it was true or a product of her imagination. "By the way… whose shirt are you wearing? As I remember, you said you didn't know anything about soccer." You both turned around when you heard a girl calling her to sign her shirt.

"I don't care who's shirt you're using, but I don't like it."

You gasped when you saw her take off her shirt and climb onto some chairs so she could be closer to your eye level. She held out her hand, holding the shirt, waiting for you to take it. As soon as you did, she grabbed your hand and gently pulled you closer to her, her face very close to yours.

"This time, I'm not going to hold back." She closed the distance and gave you a kiss, a simple lip-lock as she brought her free hand to your cheek. When you separated, you both blushed as you felt everyone around you looking at you. "Is that… yes to the coffee or the date?" you asked timidly, clearing your throat.

"It's a yes, to everything you want today, tomorrow, and in the future."

Hearing her words, you became excited and firmly grabbed her face to kiss her again. This time, it wasn't a simple lip-lock; you kissed her properly, but in a way that was acceptable for the place you were in.

"Now you have one of my shirts, occupied by me." Her voice sounded a little possessive as she hugged you.

"The shirt I'm wearing is yours. I bought it in the mall before I came," you said from your place near her neck.

"Now you have a new and better one. If you need another one, just say it and I'll give it to you." You laughed as you pulled away from her and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Go finish your work. See you later. I love you."

Kika smiled at you, feeling a strange shyness creep through her bones. She blushed, and while looking directly into your eyes, she answered.

"I love you too. The date is a done deal."

Sorry if it's too long, but I had a lot of ideas and I tried to make them all fit together.

Thanks for reading!

Bon dia, Bona tarda, Bona nit.

-Onaswife

#woso x reader #woso omegaverse #barca femeni #kika nazareth #kika nazareth x reader

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jaylaxies · 4 hours ago

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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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#fic : call me when you hate me less #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jake smut #enha smut #kpop smut #jake sim #jake imagines #enhypen imagines #jake x reader #jake x you #jake sim smut #jake hard hours #enhypen #smut

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mssnoozable · 15 hours ago

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I can't tell if this person is saying that hw has been proven to be ineffective or that hw has not been researched to be effective. I'm not conceptually in favor of busy work. The best example of how hw can be done dynamically is khan academy. If you already know the subject it can take about 5 minutes to finish, if you don't, you could take up to an hour... of course, the biggest problem is for the "soft" subjects where we don't have an easy way to score it through a computer...

Ultimately, I think of hw as structured studying. There's very little pressure in elementary (at least in the US) to learn study tactics bc tests are crazy easy. I didn't feel challenged at anything until middle school. idk if hw really taught me to study, but it did kinda force me to study. I would arrogantly say I don't need to do hw in elementary and passed all the tests, I said the same thing in middle but didn't pass the tests. It was a tiny metric that could show progression.

Unfortunately, a lot of education is pomp and circumstance. I proposed once at our coding after school program that maybe it'd be more efficient to not make accounts for every kid when we do group stuff. The problem with that is that the parents might want to see their kid's progress, and if you don't have it saved then there is nothing to measure.

Even stuff like grades have some evidence of being bad for students... which I can kinda agree with when I heard the argument. Doing that would be an extreme upheaval of schools. But then we have to ask what school even is for. If you can't measure someone's ability, how do you know that they are qualified for a job? How do you know if the teachers are properly teaching? Grades aren't for students, they are for everyone else.

I agree that there had been too much at one point. There was a lot of discourse when I was in high school abot kids just can't even get proper sleep. I think I even did a presentation on it at some point and advocated that school should start later. I think some schools did shift, but only by half an hour. There was a lot of consensus on the data but it's hard to make every parent drop their kid off at 9 when their job starts at 9. Kids are primarily dropped off here and can't just use public transport. School Buses are also available here, but you have to get up earlier than the average student bc the bus is way slower.

I also don't know why this person's post says at the end like teachers think "it's the children who are wrong". Maybe sometimes, the rhetoric isn't properly placed and accidentally gets directed at the kids. It's more like I get mad at kids when I tell them "don't use AI" and they just go "fuck you you can't tell me what to do" I don't blame kids for using the "tool" that many adults are using around them, I blame AI companies, school districts, and parents. Almost every teacher I talked to has the same sentiment. I haven't worked super long, but most of th.

I think ultimately a majority of teachers nowadays have their heart in the right place. I remember a few really grumpy jaded teachers (maybe I'm that to some of these troublesome kids). It 's just so many systemic things. Like I said, data showed school should start around 9:30-10. Teachers agreed. The district couldn't possibly follow through on that. I can confiscate phones, but the more times parents sue the district, the more times those parents win lawsuits, the more the district has a chilling effect on confiscation. There are so so many problems just like with any industry. I get that from the outside you can say all you want that hw is bad, but it doesn't help. If I grade kids who use AI they will all pretty much have the same scores. Maybe not 100% but close to the same. If they put in college applications that A doesn't mean anything anymore your GPA can't be a metric for college or anything else. Maybe the students don't care about this or the parents, but society at large still does.

Ultimately, I'd be fine with getting rid of hw or substantially slimming it down. The problem is kids use AI IN the classroom. Then when does the learning happen?! Teaching can't operate if you never force them to think. They don't read the question they might as well not even know what class it is. Literally even typing out the question is gone bc ai bots can parse images now so they just take a picture and then handwrite the answer in front of me. I could give 0 hw or the most hw and all the kids would still get the same grades.... Idk .... again if I was a proper teacher (I'm only a sub rn) and I could just ignore all this other stuff, I might consider no HW. I'd maybe try it for a semester and see how they do. I've shifted a bit on that from talking to @greenflamethegf. But I probably need to fight tooth and nail for something that might just give me more of a headache. You'd be fighting the principal, every parent whose kids have good grades in other classes, every parent whose kids have bad grades in other classes, the district policy on curriculum standards (might need to check that one), and other teachers (the kids will complain to their other teachers that they shouldn't get hw bc I don't give it).

I know this is rambly. My apologies, I don't tumblr. Hope you enjoy the text wall I guess.

A couple of years ago we were all terribly concerned about the fact that a lot of American high schools are assigning such crushing homework loads that some kids literally don't have enough time to eat or sleep (and all this in spite of the fact that there's no good evidence that assigning homework actually improves academic outcomes at the pre-university level), but now we're hearing stories about those same schools struggling to stop kids from using ChatGPT to write their essays and suddenly It's The Children Who Are Wrong. Like, do you think maybe there's a certain level of cause and effect in play here?

#education #ai in education #homework

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dior-luxury · 3 days ago

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𓂃 . 𐑞 Dating Straykids In Highschool ⟡

ꔫ﹒genre﹒⟢ - friends 2 lovers/highschool!au/fluff/wholesome . f!reader

⏆﹒⿻ ch . bangchan . leeknow . changbin . hyunjin . han . felix . seungmin . i.n

﹙◞◟﹚﹒warnings ﹒ Emotional Vulnerability & Mental Health Themes . Romantic Intimacy (Mild) . Mentions of Physical Strain or Injury

Bang Chan (방찬)

Setting: Seoul, autumn, your second year of high school. Bang Chan is the transfer student from Australia. He’s fluent in Korean, but every now and then, an Aussie accent slips through.

You first notice him during music class. He's sitting near the back, scribbling something in a weathered notebook. While the others chatter, he stays focused, headphones around his neck. You’re paired together for a group project—composing a short song.

At first, he’s a bit formal. Respectful, kind, and quietly driven. But there’s a warmth in his eyes, and when he laughs, it’s genuine—like a burst of sunlight breaking through morning clouds. He never brags, even though it’s obvious he knows more about music than most of the teachers.

One day, after practice in the old, dusty music room, he lets you listen to a melody he’s been working on.

“It’s not done yet,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. “But it reminds me of... you, actually.”

Your heart flutters. You don’t say anything—just press the headphones closer to your ears and listen. The piano is soft, hopeful, full of longing. That’s the moment things change.

Dating Bang Chan feels like coming home after a long day. He walks you to class, waits for you after club meetings. He writes notes in your notebook when you’re not looking: “Don’t forget to smile today. You’re stronger than you think.” He’s not flashy, but his affection is deep, rooted.

Sometimes he talks about his dreams of forming a team—people who want the same things. Music. Growth. Connection. You can see it in him: that relentless fire.

On weekends, you go to Han River with convenience store snacks and his beat-up guitar. He writes silly songs about you and sings them in a mock-serious voice, making you laugh until you cry.

But he’s also burdened sometimes. The pressure he puts on himself, the feeling that he has to carry others. One late night, you find him alone in the practice room, tired eyes, cracked knuckles from too much piano. You wrap your arms around him from behind, and he lets himself collapse into you just for a moment.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “For seeing me.”

Dating Chan in high school is like holding hands with someone who’s always reaching for the stars but never forgets to hold onto you, too.

Lee Know (리노)

Setting: Gyeonggi-do, wintertime. Snow settles on the schoolyard like powdered sugar. Minho is the quiet guy known for his dancing—reserved, mysterious, a bit intimidating.

You first meet in library detention. You were caught doodling on your desk, and he—well, no one knows why he’s there. He just shrugs when you ask. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

He doesn’t talk much at first. You catch him peeking at you from behind a book, then pretending he didn’t. When he finally does speak, his voice is soft, a little teasing.

“Your doodles aren’t that bad. Could use better shading, though.”

Over time, you discover his quirks. He loves cats. He dances when he thinks no one’s watching. He pretends to be indifferent, but he’s quietly observant. The first time you trip over your own feet, he doesn’t laugh—he catches your arm and says, “Be careful. The floor’s not as soft as I am.”

Minho doesn’t go out of his way to impress anyone. That’s what makes it feel so special when he opens up to you. He shares videos of his choreography, raw clips he never shows anyone else. You watch together after school in the dance room, the smell of sweat and wood polish filling the air.

Sometimes he gets frustrated—with himself, with the world, with the way people expect him to be “normal.” You sit with him in silence until he speaks.

“People think I don’t care. But I do. Too much, sometimes.”

When you hold his hand, he grips it a little tighter than necessary, like he’s scared to let go. He makes fun of you playfully, but buys your favorite snacks without asking. He walks you home but acts like it’s just “on the way.” He never says “I love you” outright—but he shows it in the way he waits in the snow outside your cram school just to walk beside you in silence.

One time, you catch a cold, and he shows up at your house, red-eared, awkward, holding a thermos and a cat plushie.

“Don’t tell anyone I’m sweet. I have a reputation to keep.”

Dating Minho in high school is like unraveling a mystery—slow, careful, endlessly rewarding. He doesn’t give his heart easily, but once he does, it’s entirely yours.

Changbin (창빈)

Setting: Busan. Late spring of your second year in high school. The air smells like the ocean. The boys play soccer after school, and the ramen shop down the street is always full of uniforms and laughter.

Changbin isn’t the kind of guy you’d expect to fall for. At first, he’s loud, a little cocky, and known around school for his energy. He’s on the track team, part of the hip-hop club, and never seems to sit still. He walks through the halls like he owns them, tossing inside jokes at teachers and always surrounded by friends.

But one day, you’re late for school, rushing up the hill, and trip over your shoelaces. While others snicker, Changbin’s the one who actually kneels down to help you up. He doesn’t say anything flashy—just dusts off your books, hands you your bag, and says, “You okay?” And that’s when you notice his eyes—genuine, kind, much softer than his reputation.

You start talking more after that. You sit next to him in homeroom, and every time you answer a question right, he leans over to whisper, “Genius,” with a grin. He insists on walking you to the bus stop, even if it makes him late to his own club meetings.

One day, you catch him in the music room, completely alone, scribbling lyrics in a beat-up notebook. His head is bobbing, mouth moving silently. He looks so serious, so focused. He doesn’t notice you until you step inside.

“You write music?” “I try,” he replies, suddenly shy. “It’s kinda... embarrassing.”

But it’s not. His words are honest—about self-doubt, about wanting to be someone that matters. You realize then that all the noise he makes? It’s covering up the fear that maybe no one’s really listening.

Dating Changbin is like riding a rollercoaster that always ends in safety. He’s the guy who gets defensive when someone talks down to you, who jokes about fighting your teachers if they give you too much homework, who buys you snacks with notes attached like “Food is my love language.”

He brags about you to anyone who will listen, but when it’s just the two of you, he gets adorably quiet, resting his head on your shoulder while pretending he’s just tired from practice.

When he lets you listen to one of his first full raps—voice shaking, cheeks red—you look at him like he hung the moon.

“It’s amazing,” you say. “You think so?” “I know so.”

And that’s when he kisses you—clumsy, soft, with a breath of nervous laughter between you.

Dating high school Changbin is like having a storm that clears the skies for you, every single time.

Hyunjin (현진)

Setting: Seoul, late autumn. The leaves fall like confetti across the school courtyard. The school uniform fits him too well—his tie always slightly loosened, hair a little too perfect. He’s the guy you notice even when you don’t want to.

Hyunjin is the school’s walking contradiction. Quiet one moment, wildly expressive the next. He’s known for his dancing, his visuals, and that aloof charm that makes people afraid to approach him—but you see something else.

You meet by accident. Literally. You bump into him in the art room while trying to escape the noise of lunch period. He’s sketching a portrait, pencil dragging quickly across the paper. You apologize, but he just looks up, shrugs, and offers you a seat beside him.

For the first few weeks, you don’t talk much. But he starts leaving small things behind—an eraser, a folded doodle, a single sunflower in your locker with a note that just says “Monday.” You ask what it means. He just smiles, a little crooked.

“Mondays suck. I wanted to make one of yours better.”

You slowly get to know his moods. He’s unpredictable—sometimes walking with you in silence, other times bursting into spontaneous dancing in the hallway just to make you laugh. He’s a romantic, but not in the traditional way. He doesn't text much, but he’ll send you a picture of the sunset with “This reminded me of you.”

He tells you about how dancing saved him from feeling invisible. He doesn’t talk about his insecurities often, but when he does, it's raw.

“Everyone thinks I’ve got it together. But sometimes I feel like... if I stop moving, I’ll disappear.”

You don’t always know how to respond. So you hold his hand. You show up to his dance practices, even when you're tired. You bring him cold drinks and sit on the floor while he spins and sweats and throws himself into each movement like he’s trying to outrun his own thoughts.

And when he gets frustrated—when the routine isn’t clicking, when the teacher criticizes his form—he doesn’t lash out. He finds you. Sits beside you on the rooftop with his knees drawn to his chest.

“What if I’m not good enough?” “Then I’ll remind you that you are.”

Dating Hyunjin is like dancing through a storm—chaotic, passionate, deeply emotional. He writes your name in the fog on windows. He reads you poems under blankets. He fights with you when he’s overwhelmed—but always comes back, eyes wide with apology, holding your favorite candy like a peace offering.

The first time he kisses you, it's raining. You’re under a small, leaky awning after he walked you home. He looks at you like you're made of stars, his fingers trembling slightly as he brushes your cheek.

“You’re the only place I feel like I’m not pretending.”

Dating Hyunjin in high school is like falling in love with art itself—beautiful, messy, fleeting, unforgettable.

Han (한)

Setting: Incheon, late summer. The air is heavy with cicadas and distant laughter. The school building buzzes with energy after vacation. Jisung is the guy everyone knows, but few really understand.

You first meet in a shared elective: Creative Writing. He’s loud, always cracking jokes, drumming on the desk with his fingers like there’s a beat constantly playing in his mind. At first, you think he’s just the class clown—charming, chaotic, probably doesn’t take much seriously.

Until the day he reads one of his stories out loud.

It’s about a boy who dreams of being heard, of turning the noise in his head into something beautiful. You look over at him, and for the first time, his face is calm. Serious. He finishes and sits down quickly, eyes low.

After class, you tell him his writing was amazing. He shrugs, tries to laugh it off, but his ears turn pink.

“Thanks. I usually just write when my brain won’t shut up.”

From that moment, he starts hanging around more. You study together in the library, though he mostly doodles in the margins of his notes. He sends you memes at 2 a.m. and apologizes ten seconds later when he realizes you probably have normal sleep habits. You laugh every time.

Jisung is all impulse and heart. He’ll buy you snacks from the vending machine before you even ask. He’ll text you, “I thought of a stupid song idea but I need your opinion ASAP,” and drag you to the music room after school. You listen while he nervously raps over a beat he made on his cracked phone.

You see his mind working constantly. The way he gets anxious when he’s not “doing enough,” the way he brushes off compliments because he thinks people are just being polite.

“You’re allowed to be proud of yourself,” you tell him once, watching him stare at his notebook like it might judge him. “Yeah... maybe when I actually get good.” “You are good, Han.”

He doesn’t respond, but he smiles, soft and a little sad, and holds your hand under the desk.

Dating Jisung is like riding a rollercoaster with no map—moments of dizzying joy, random explosions of affection, sudden drops into deep vulnerability. He tells you he loves you like it’s the most natural thing in the world—while eating ramyeon, while sharing an umbrella, while watching cartoons on his phone.

But he also panics when he thinks he’s hurt you. He overthinks everything. One day, after a minor misunderstanding, he disappears for a few hours. You find him on the rooftop, looking miserable.

“I don’t want to be someone who lets you down,” he says quietly.

You sit beside him, head against his shoulder. “You never do. You just forget how much you already matter.”

Dating high school Jisung is falling in love with someone who feels too much, says too much, cares too much—and it’s exactly what makes him unforgettable.

Felix (필릭스)

Setting: A cozy neighborhood school in Seoul, winter approaching. The mornings are crisp, and your breath hangs in the air like whispered secrets. Felix is the quiet transfer student from Australia. His Korean is shy, his smile is warm, and no one quite knows what to make of him at first.

You meet in Home Economics, of all places. The class is baking cupcakes for a school fundraiser. Your partner bails last minute, and Felix—tall, freckled, with flour already dusting his sweater—offers to help with a nervous smile.

“I’m not great, but I’ll try.”

Turns out, he’s better than great. He’s careful, deliberate, and makes everything feel like a scene from a Studio Ghibli film. When you compliment his frosting design, he blushes so hard he nearly drops the piping bag.

After that, you start talking more. He’s always kind—helping clean up the classroom, holding the door for others, checking on classmates when they look down. But with you, he’s especially thoughtful.

He waits outside your classroom with a snack and a soft, “Did you eat?” He draws little sunflowers in your notebook margins when you’re not looking. You discover he loves gaming, stargazing, and quietly watching sunsets on his phone.

He doesn’t talk about himself much at first. But slowly, he opens up.

“Back home, I always felt like the odd one. Too Korean to be Aussie. Too Aussie to be Korean.”

You reach across the table and gently touch his hand. “You don’t have to fit into one box to belong.”

Dating Felix feels like waking up slowly on a Sunday morning. He’s gentle but playful—tickling your sides when you least expect it, sneaking notes into your locker with silly drawings and hearts. He takes photos of you when you're not paying attention—not to post, but to save.

He teaches you a bit of English slang, giggling when you say something wrong on purpose just to hear him laugh. He loves music and sometimes hums when he’s happy. You once caught him dancing alone in the hallway, earbuds in, completely free.

On a cold December night, you walk together after cram school, the streetlights glowing like fairy dust. He stops suddenly, then turns to you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice so low it almost gets lost in the wind.

When you say yes, he steps closer, brushing a gloved hand against your cheek before kissing you—soft, slow, like he’s afraid to break something precious.

Dating high school Felix is like being loved by a sunbeam. He doesn’t shout his feelings, but they’re in every small action, every lingering look, every whispered “You mean the world to me.”

And when he finally calls you “love” in that lilting accent of his—you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Seungmin (승민)

Setting: Seoul. Late spring. You’re in the third semester of your second year, just before the chaos of exam season sets in. Seungmin sits in the second row of class, by the window. Everyone knows him—not because he’s loud, but because he’s consistent. Dependable. Witty in that deadpan way that makes the classroom burst into laughter before the teacher catches on.

You share Literature class. You’re not quite friends at first—more like nodding acquaintances. That changes one day when the teacher assigns partners for a poetry project. You get paired with Seungmin.

“Lucky you,” he says with a small smirk as he pulls up a chair next to yours. “I’m secretly a romantic.”

You laugh, not realizing yet how true that will turn out to be.

Working with Seungmin is like discovering a book you didn’t expect to love. He’s focused, but makes dry jokes under his breath that make your face ache from smiling. He’s thoughtful in everything—editing your lines gently, asking questions that make your writing better.

But it’s outside of school where you get to know the real Seungmin.

You start spending afternoons at a quiet café near the campus. He always orders iced americano, even when it’s cold. You bring your notebooks and headphones and study across from each other in comfortable silence. He’ll occasionally pass you sticky notes with sarcastic comments like:

“If you highlight one more paragraph in pink, the textbook might explode.”

The more time you spend with him, the more you notice the little things. He remembers your favorite snack and brings it to school during test week. He teases you when you’re stressed, but always knows the right thing to say to help you breathe again.

One afternoon, you catch him staring at you while you're reading. When you look up, he doesn’t flinch.

“What?” you ask, self-conscious. “Nothing,” he says, smiling softly. “You just look really focused. It’s cute.”

It’s the first time he drops the sarcasm—and you feel your heart skip.

Seungmin doesn’t rush into things. He’s not the type to declare his feelings loudly or dramatically. But when he confesses, it’s simple and sincere.

“I think I like you,” he says one evening as you walk home from the library. “I don’t want to make it weird, but... I’d regret not saying it.”

He holds your hand, gently, like he’s been waiting for the right moment—and now that it’s here, he’s not letting go.

Dating Seungmin in high school is like being in a slow-burning novel where every chapter gets better. He challenges you, supports you, and makes you laugh until you can’t breathe. He’s your anchor in a sea of school pressure and teen chaos—and even though he pretends to be annoyed by how often you borrow his pens, he keeps bringing more.

And when he finally kisses you—under the cherry blossoms outside school, when no one’s looking—it’s perfect. Thoughtful. Certain. Like everything else he does.

I.N (아이엔)

Setting: A small town on the edge of Busan. Late summer, just after school has started again. Jeongin is a first-year, and you’re a year above him. He’s known for his big smile, his tidy uniform, and the way he trips over his words when he’s nervous.

You meet through your school’s music club. He’s there with a borrowed bass guitar, looking completely overwhelmed. You’re helping with club orientation and notice him standing awkwardly near the juice boxes.

“First time?” you ask, smiling. He nods. “I’m kind of... winging it.”

You end up showing him around, and that’s where it starts. At first, he calls you “sunbaenim” with the most polite bow he can manage, even though you tell him over and over to just use your name.

The more time you spend together, the more his shyness begins to fade. He starts texting you—at first formally, but soon his messages get longer, full of exclamation points and emojis. He starts seeking you out at school, waving too enthusiastically when he sees you across the hallway.

He confesses (sort of) in the most Jeongin way possible.

One rainy afternoon, you’re walking home under one umbrella. He keeps glancing over at you like he’s working up the nerve to say something. Finally, he blurts out:

“You make me nervous. But like... the good kind. Like... butterflies-in-your-stomach nervous.”

He goes so red afterward that he trips over the curb.

From that day on, you’re dating—though he still calls it “hanging out” for the first few weeks out of sheer nerves.

Dating I.N is like living in a coming-of-age movie. He texts you pictures of the sky when it looks pretty. He walks you home every chance he gets, even if it’s out of the way. He insists on carrying your books, your guitar, your backpack—anything, really.

He tries hard. Really hard. He wants to be good for you. He practices guitar late into the night so he can play you a song without messing up. When he finally plays it, hands trembling, voice cracking just a little, you nearly cry.

“I wrote this thinking about... how I feel when I see you smile.”

You kiss him first—he’s too shy to initiate it. You’re sitting on a park bench after cram school, the air thick with summer heat, the cicadas buzzing. He’s rambling nervously about school, and you lean in. He freezes, eyes wide, and then melts into it like he’s waited his whole life for that moment.

Dating high school Jeongin is innocent, full of discovery, full of clumsy but earnest affection. He makes mistakes, says the wrong things sometimes, gets flustered—but he never stops trying to make you feel special. You’re his first love, and he wears that fact like a badge of honor.

And years later, you’ll still remember the sound of his laughter echoing down the hallway, the warmth of his hand in yours, and the way he once looked at you like you were his whole universe.

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lacemyimpurities · 3 days ago

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office worker!toji ⤬ runaway!reader

office worker!toji who wants nothing but to get home and knock out in his bed, head a little fogged after a few drinks with the guys. he's been exhausted from his co-workers asking if he could finish up some of their work. and of course, he agrees. they all have families to come home too, while he doesn't. meaning it wouldn't be trouble for him if he stayed back for a few hours. a curse, really. but now that he's finally got a chance to let loose, he feels like a heavy weight has been lifted upon him.

office worker!toji who walks down the streets to his apartment from the station. it's gotten colder the past few nights, and the thought only adds a returned weight to his shoulders. his steps are slow as he tries to think of what to do with winter approaching. meaning bundling up, overtime, and gifts. great.. gift-giving was never toji's strong suit, considering that thinking about others was always deemed a hassle to him. he never was able to keep a girlfriend in high school, either addressing the wrong names, or even forgetting important dates as simple as a anniversary. essentially resulting in no more girlfriend, and a completely clean slate to rebuild some sort of connection if he hopes to settle down with someone.

office worker!toji who sees a figure under a streetlight hunched over like a ball, looking like a terrified cat. he stops a little before the figure to see whats going on, squinting as the light shines down upon them brightly. "hey, do even you know what time it is?" he says a little harsh, but it didn't seem to elicit a response. he's about to open his mouth once more, but he's met with the eyes of a girl. ones of a high school student it seemed at that.

office worker!toji who is so confused why some highschool student is out this late, wearing a uniform that is definitely not used by any of the schools around the area nonetheless. "i'm aware," you say, too calm for his liking.

"you should go home."

"no trains are running."

"so y'r just gonna stay out here?"

"it's too cold to."

"so what are you gonna do then?"

"..."

"i'll go home with you."

office worker!toji who is bewildered. either kids have gotten really dumb, or people have simply left their instincts behind after the new generation. "you shouldn't go home with some stranger you just met. nonetheless, a man." he rubs his temples, but you just smile.

"but i don't have anywhere else to go.."

"why don't you stay at one of the internet cafes down 3 blocks?"

"can't really do much without any money."

"you.. you want to stay at my place, because you're broke?"

"yeah, pretty much."

"...in return, i can sleep with you."

office worker!toji who blinks, trying the process the words that just came out of your mouth. "don't say things like that, even as a joke." he mutters, the night seemingly stretched longer. "i really will sleep with you.." you deject, voice unwavering. "i'm not doing that to some girl half my age." you sigh, recollecting yourself before tilting your head a bit.

"then, i'll stay for free!"

"..this is your place? it's... filthy." you mutter, eyeing all the empty beer cans. toji just grunts, beginning to slip off his shoes. "which is normal for a single middle aged man-.. living in a single bedroom apartment." he retorts, getting his shoes off and immediately going for his bed.

his large form takes most of the bed, his back is turned to you. "you're going to sleep?" you ask, padding closer. "yeah, feel free to do the same." he replies, unmoving. you unbutton your dress shirt, leaning in behind him.

"my offer still stands, y'know."

"not interested, go to sleep."

"right, okay mister." and you slip off your coat, settling in beside him staring at the ceiling. he's nice. you think, getting a roof over your head without payment. you're thankful, but you feel weird about not being able to give him something in return.

you hear his light snoring, he knocked out already...?

ah, well. you should too, you can worry about a payment tomorrow morning.

#lacemyimpurities #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji fluff #jjk fanfic #jujutsu toji #toji x reader #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you

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kalims · 5 hours ago

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⭒ㅤwhose (not) random kid

premise. crash landing from the future is apparently your kid, not that you know that anyway... in the form of a mixture between you, and your... supposed counterpart, clues are bound to pile up as to whose child this is.

parts. rosehearts, kingscholar, ashengrotto, al asim, schoenheit, shroud, draconia

cont. gender neutral reader, use of 'mada' which is just 'mama' and 'dada' cut in half for our resident shrimp (aka yuu), octavinelle's shady business deserved it's own tag, 7.0k words

note. hiii again! it took a whole month for this to come out hehe. my honest opinion, the kid here is the cutest I've had to write. I really love em' 🤎 most of the good parts of this fic is near the end where they start interacting with yuu!

azul

ashengrotto did not do things himself–it sounds bad, by extension. like he was incompetent but most of the student body of the school knew better than to assume so, much less say it out loud. associating with him came with consequences, but much larger rewards to sow if you were actually useful for him to keep close.

why should he exert much effort from the body when his mind had already done the work? he rewarded his employees well after all.

his grip was iron. figuratively, and literally. no slip through for an exit, if he let go then it was because he wanted to. he does things when he wants to and watches it all play with a critical eye. he let his actor take point center, relish the spotlight where in the end, he can bask under the light. what was rewards without hardships?

azul does things for you despite himself.

like now, he’s desperately trying to pluck out every thought of you like a needle stuck in hay from his mind because he was not at the local store for you, but for a business opportunity.

like before, when he would inevitably grace you with pointers for advanced lessons for better preparation. muttering something about him not nurturing employees that lack the essence of his dorm–intelligence, and wit.

like after, he’s not so sure if there is one now. who would take back what he said? him? ashengrotto?

everything is so within a script he plays that he tells himself that he let you storm off because he willed it.

“you wouldn’t know what it’s like to be special,” he shouldn’t have regretted the remarks that flew from his mouth as a defense mechanism that wrapped around himself and inevitably pushed you away. azul was special because he made himself to be (and you were special to him in a way that was irrevocably lost to him).

what did you do? how did you do it?

azul did not want to hold onto someone so sought after, he wouldn’t handle it well if you chose another warmth to run into, he only made investments that he was sure he would win.

he watched when you straightened abruptly from his words. like his voice struck you even when he made sure it was a sound that drew joy from you, you don’t look happy. you breezed past him like the wind, not unkindly but something fleeting that he can’t grasp at.

after all, no one can hold onto the wind.

a pair of eyes follow his frisky movements with amusement–since when did the perceptive, at ease azul struggle to focus picking off the most ripe ruby berries? he’d been staring at the fruit for so long that even floyd, whose attention was frayed by other aisles.

jade had only been interested in the mundane task of shopping when he spotted a tray of fungi on sale, his eyes sparkled. so azul compromised to purchase some free of charge if he was diligent in his work afterward. over time the interest faded, it was simply routine until he exited the aisle after a quick skim and found azul in the same spot.

then floyd got interested at whatever jade was standing by and idly observing.

now, they’re both looking at azul.

“he’s still sulking?” floyd scrunched up his nose as azul threw a perfectly decent ruby berry back into the basket, in his opinion anyway why was there a need to spend so much time finding perfect ones? azul was not as interesting to poke at considering he hadn’t blown up at floyd yet.

marine creatures are much more fun when they puff up. he had told his brother who agreed without any insight.

azul can only take much of floyd, and if he’s still keeping to himself by now it must have been serious.

and! more fun to see if pushed too hard. chuckled floyd in his head.

jade does not stray his eyes from azul. “it appears so.” he agreed with a light hum, he took the pack of eggs from floyd’s hands and set it in the basket before the latter got any ideas of breaking it–more so if it was related to throwing them at azul’s head specifically.

“but i would say it is brooding rather than sulking.” he added unhelpfully to azul’s case to which floyd merely shrugged in response.

“you do know i can still hear you both?” azul drawled from the stands. seemingly finding two more ruby berries adequate enough so he discards them at the basket hanging from his inner elbow. when he has forcefully moved his gaze from the fruits to the two, he is given the full extent of the amusement on their faces.

for floyd, lack thereof.

“indeed.” jade flashed him a smile.

floyd continued for him, shifting on his feet with one hand buried beneath his pocket. “that’s why we’re talking, azul.” cause you can hear us.

in response, azul merely crinkled the two of his brows. he briefly pondered to grace them with a response, but what would simply be adding more oil to the flame and he greatly disliked fire. the twins offered a brief respite from the hurricane of thoughts that was you, he supposed he could at least be grateful for that.

even if they clearly didn’t intend so and relished his disdain.

he pushes up the rim of his glasses. “all done?” azul interjected. there were far better thing to use with time rather than spend it all teasing him–or for thinking of good old you that didn’t fit into any equation he drew.

he still snuck you in.

thankfully none of the two had the ability to read minds, as it happens jade might be eerily good at reading but peering into his thoughts was out of his range. if they did, he would simply never hear the end of it, could have left them all alone just so he could have a hint of privacy.

jade nodded, azul hands him the list. “double check in case floyd,” he glared pointedly at said male. “forgets something like last time.”

the last time azul was negligent in checking twice, floyd hadn’t been able to grab a bottle of witch’s essence. mostly because of the presence of you, where floyd had found trailing after you far more interesting than browsing the aisles for what he was supposed to get.

he was supposed to be irritated, he was until he was simply just a bit grateful floyd was near to ward off a persisting customer of the shop who found your ‘less than interesting magic-less capabilities’ apparently interesting enough to poke fun at.

azul didn’t take you with them anymore. due to floyd’s distraction or the possibility you’d be bothered again he isn’t so sure.

of course, he tied off that loose end with jade.

“i don’t get why we couldn’t have done this at sam’s shop.” grumbled floyd, stopping in front of their paths and is then ushered by jade forwards once more. the voice shakes azul from his recollection, that unfortunately was once again related to you–who shall not be named.

jade momentarily eyed azul who stares ahead as if to shake off his piercing stare. “of course, azul would only stop at the best for the prefect.”

the remark burned him. you who shall not be named burned him, and azul sort of liked it. his cheeks flared with warmth and he cleared his throat, fearful that it would come out as a scrawny, weak, affected croak. “this is for our new exclusive offer.” azul retaliated.

“so the birthday bash offer was not for the prefect whose birthday is today?” jade retorted.

the excited it’s shrimpy’s birthday? from floyd was only entertained by his brother who nodded in confirmation. he looks away from azul who made it a point to drill him a stare on the side of his head.

“that makes sense.” floyd said, stopping to lean by the register where the other two transfer their item of goods from the basket to the counter. “everyone else doesn’t deserve anything but nothing except for shrimpy.”

besides the other students that you had ‘beast tamed’ that extended to the twins, jade took you in steadily when you proved to be a fascinating specimen while floyd took more convincing when you pointedly ignored his attempts at intimidation.

now the tweel won’t even leave you alone. azul is only ever grateful a few times for it.

when thought about once, you embedded deeper in the mind. it must be what floyd as doing because he spoke again. “i haven’t seen shrimpy in a looong time,” he pouted, the cashier had rung up half the items at that point. looking sleep deprived, and their chatter was merely background noise.

“it’s only been 7 days.” azul corrected, unwilling to voice the and 2 hours that lingered in response to floyd’s quip.

“you could just say a week.” teased jade. “have you been keeping tabs?”

floyd off-handedly took jade’s phone from his pocket, having forgotten his back at the dorm. the latter does not argue considering it was better to let floyd run amok when the things he desired was innocent.

“i simply like to be informed well.”

ignoring the other two was easy as trein’s class (which was easy because he slept through mot of it). floyd inputted the password of his other and peered as the screen flared to something other than an ominous screen of a forest fungus. he, for one was glad to be free of the sight.

his face does sour into a blach when he finds the last thing jade was on is an online cart full of plants he didn’t bother to remember, and a few he associated with the list of fungi crewel gave them with the book to study for an upcoming test.

floyd isn’t sure if jade was trying out hands on learning or doing something weird with those… things again, like cooking them up and force feeding it to him.

he shuddered.

“about yuu?”

azul glared, floyd spared a glance to quietly laugh at the expression before returning to the device.

way too bright, he sniffed, swiping down to lower the brightness that was obnoxiously raised to the maximum setting and stopped at the myriad of notifications of missed calls.

“you buddy-buddy with oyster?” queried floyd as he found the number seven next to the red ping of a missed call.

jade tilts his head.

“or yellowfin tuna,” he read. “or flounder, or mackerel..”

floyd listed out the names as he scrolled, only pausing when he found the end to be an answered call from you four days ago. azul turns his head after handing off the newly bagged items as they made their way to the exit.

likely, he recognized those to be the species of his employees.

“we are dorm mates.” jade answered, they weren’t friends, colleagues at most but most prominently dorm mates.

floyd held up his phone. “you got like ten million missed calls from everyone at the dorm at this point,” he snorted. “and message from tuna hours ago about the lounge being in chaos.”

“what?” azul sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “i left flounder in charge, he’s capable.”

“clearly not capable enough, did azul make a lapse in judgement?”

“why you–”

“floyd.”

___

the dorm was in fact.

not in chaos?

the three stood befuddled at the surprising serene peace of the lounge. azul in particular crossed his arms and wondered when his employees got off making lies about the state of his lounge. if anything the atmosphere was better simply because everyone on the shift seemed to be in a good mood right now.

oyster passed along a bottle of coral sea refresher to a table of savanaclaw students with a smile which could be the sign of the impending doom of the world because all they knew how to do was brood, and brood, and brood about their state of finance as if azul isn’t their answer to that particular problem.

“did you teleport us to the wrong place?” floyd scratched his head.

“how dare you imply i could make a mistake.” azul snapped, reigning his temper in before he could fully grant floyd the satisfaction of seeing his patience fraying.

“you exerted your magic suddenly without pausing for mistakes.” jade chided. usually a teleportation spell could have moments to spare before the final incantation to polish beforehand to ensure the body is in one piece after the travel. a spontaneous one consumed larger magic due to lack of perfection.

if the reservoirs weren’t enough the spell would simply hurt the body instead.

azul sighed. “what can i do? the lounge cannot run well, or at least i was told.” his face twists into a cold stare of annoyance, eyes skimming the room, likely looking for flounder.

to his displeasure, he does not see them. only the startling smoothness that the lounge operates in at the moment. it was a sight that should have brought him satisfaction–just another variable in his equation to separate from his worries.

instead the sourness that had lingered for days now churned in his gut. no matter how much water he drank to flush it out, it stayed and that was strange because you did not.

floyd shrugged his shoulders. “eh, looks good enough to me. since it’s operating so well, we shouldn’t disturb them.” which was the less subtle form of i don’t want to work. azul could not read jade’s expression as usual, so he was unsure if he agreed with floyd or not.

he stared longer around. looking for a crack in the pristine management to put floyd as a temporary bandage

azul slumped his shoulders. “fine.” he relented, not without a heated glare at the side of floyd’s head.

then the eel was huffing, striding to the back where the dark halls extended to the inner dormitory of octavinelle. intimidating on purpose of course, to ward off just in case any stray, wandering customer came to close.

and of course, if they still looked past that. any octavinelle hungry enough for a fool was welcome to name it their prey.

he glanced sideways. “find flounder. we have much to discuss.” jade nodded, did not pry. a more favorable trait between the two brothers if you asked azul.

azul was just about to turn to the direction of his office, sort out his plans for the following week. ensure his current plans are not falling through, ponder about the state of you or maybe he can pick himself out of his towering, fragile pride that he’d let you tip over if you came back.

maybe.

you likely would not though, once he’s chased off someone they don’t come back. he does not give them a reason to, nothing in him to stay anyway. you had nothing but had something that briefly makes his heart stammer in a way that warms him even in the frigid cold of octavinelle.

he would need several hours to shrug off afterwards, lamenting over the time his thoughts scattered and he scampered around in his mind trying to pick off fragments. azul did not waste time, didn’t make the same mistake twice but still sought you out like a symbolic voice.

he’s never heard you sing, but he wants to hear it more than your stifling silence.

frazzled, azul grasps at the edge of his hat. tilting it down to hide even the slightest of skin over his distraught expression. forget about them! he protested against his mind, now his mind won’t even listen to him lately. stop thinking about them…

“azul,”

“not now jade.” he hissed, eyes shut.

“azul,” again.

“i told you to look for flounder just a second ago.”

“i suppose you don’t want to talk about the child skimming through your contracts?”

“whatever you do is none of my–”

blue eyes snap open to jade, tracing the line of sight.

a cold chill shriveled his spine. he had not fully registered the entirety of jade’s words, the word your contracts is what he zeroed in on with lazer focus as his legs jerked to move towards the bar. where he certainly did not keep his contracts and where a child was certainly skimming through quite a few diligently.

where did they find that? his eyes twitched, eyes unrelenting on the little thing. the better question was, who let it inside of mostro lounge! do any of them know he’s not allowed to bring any in here?

well, no one does.

still! a child? his contracts?

“excuse me,” he halted in front of their tiny frame, their legs barely even meeting the floor and hovering from the stool. if azul had to guess… they required some semblance of assistance to even reach it, begging the question who and why in the world when they are clutching onto his–! “i do believe you should not take what is not yours.”

azul could not help the frown that tugs at his face. he probably looks unfriendly, and frightening to a child now no matter how soft he forced his voice to be. he reaches out and grasps at the edge of the pristine parchment, tugging, smoothly rolling it to tuck into the inside of his coat without another word.

to make up for the sudden motion, he breaks into a smile. “you are not supposed to be here.” he states flatly, half aware of jade’s footsteps coming to a stop beside him.

the eel leans down slightly.

curiously. the child peers up without a sense of startle, just calm observation.

“mister jade.” they murmured.

said male’s brows quirked. “i would have remembered such a… small specimen.” he says, a subtle jab to their knowledge. a nicer way of prying he typically does not spare for problems, after all, it is a kid.

his eyes drift from the child to azul. not to share a look of confusion but to compare the eerie shade of blue that reflected back at him.

in a surprising act of sincerely, the child blinked and glanced at the hand that used to hold his contracts. “I'm sorry, papa.” they murmured, bowing their head in a show of what seems to be genuine atonement. their hand reaches out and clutches onto the coat of his dorm uniform, azul is feeling more surprised to the fact he hadn't recoiled away.

papa? he's not a papa! he blanched, forcing a wobbling smile.

at their point of eye contact only does he notice the striking similarity of his eyes. it reminded him of himself when he was young, that sort of innocence before it was tainted.

gravely. he shook it off.

though they seemed to have mistaken his silence for anger. their lips purse. “don't be mad.”

jade eyed the interaction with a glint of surprise. “you clearly shouldn't have a child in the future if you've made one so upset already.”

azul spares him a heady glare. “be quiet, jade.”

the child frowned lightly at that. “don't be mean to mister jade, papa.”

the eel in question grinned lightly. “that's right, papa. don't be so mean to the kind mister over here.”

azul is tempted to make his stare more harsh, and throw in the good old threat. it always worked for employees out of line, even if it was scarce to work on jade. so he had always pinned the punishment on floyd, who would then pester jade about being dragged about his mess.

that was how to keep jade in line.

halfway into it, he remembers the innocent child in front of him. holding onto him like he was their father. well, they certainly thought so. which was an extremely silly thought. still, azul bites his tongue before he can spew any semblance to ink on land.

once, jade had received the unfortunate end to his ink and wasn't too pleased.

safe to say he had never tried to dent his pot ever again.

azul clicked his tongue but for appearances sake, he manages another practiced smile at the kid. turning his head to hide a grimace as they tugged on his coat. “ahem… dear child, you are not supposed to be here.” he started. he wanted to back track, he did not want to sound like that crow! “how did you get here?”

“how about we inquire about this charming little one's name first?” jade cut smoothly.

the child perked up.

“i’m solon!”

azul's lips twitched–

“I haven't thought about a name yet.”

“don't tell me its another business thing? it's just to differentiate marine life!”

“hmph, I am not always so driven to success. I have time for other things, like pondering, and indulging your silly excuses for passing time like naming these creatures..”

“what would you name that little cutie there then?”

a shy little octopus in the corner? he paused. “a wise one named solon.” proudly said.

–downwards.

he wants to knock on his head this instant. how dare he betray himself again by drifting his thoughts to you? azul cleared his throat and feigned a cough. “is that so?” he croaked.

“and azul is your father, is that why you're here?”

the former shot him a look so incredulous that it was easy to read. you’re kidding. azul’s face read, both a non-verbal message to himself and jade. do i look like a father to you?

jade was almost tempted to give azul a nod out of spite, to see if his expression twist into deeper offense but then again the two had known each other for a while enough to read more clearly than others. they did not use the term friends to describe one another, more of a lasting companionship than anything else.

as long as he continued to be amusing, jade and floyd would stick by him. be occasional thorns on his side but nonetheless still there.

azul opened his mouth to reply before he could get prodded at further.

solon already answered for him with a nod. “yes, my papa.” to which azul’s eyes bulged through the fogging lens of his glasses. jade had never seen him so discombobulated that he could not help an amused, low chuckle under his breath,

always so interesting. he thought with a simpering smile. he’ll stay by for a while it seems. shouldn’t he call floyd to share the laugh?

it was not azul that pushed up the rim of his sliding glasses up the bridge of his nose, but his seeming younger counterpart. “papa’s establishment was failing so i saved it.” they added.

that solves the why is the lounge operating so good. so that means flounder was out of azul’s red zone. for now anyway!

“excuse you?” azul stammered. “mostro lounge is many things, but it is not a failing establishment!”

solon blinked. “oh, it's a mostro lounge? i thought it was an aquarium.”

“azul was always thinking of having something other than a restaurant for business.” jade mused in reply.

azul could not believe the audacity of this child. coincidentally looking the same as him or not… sharing the same name he shared only with you or not… mostro lounge could only be his only real child, something he raised from ground up with his own blood, sweat and tears yet here was this strange child…

he glanced up, watching the lounge around. azul will not deny that if solon really took care of mostro lounge in his absence, and flounder’s apparent incompetence…

his eyes glimmered. a business opportunity! his mind swooned. “would you like to work for me?” azul grinned lightly, voice tinged with sweetness.

again, jade unhelpfully cut in. “you’ll be arrested for child labor.”

oh, right that was a thing.

azul’s smile faded immediately as he sighed. if only chances came to him like this little one on a silver platter everyday, his business would simply be booming. he would even entertain jade’s idea of variety in his line.

it wouldn’t be too bad.

that way the names you bestowed upon those oblivious fish would be put to use.

ah! internally, he slapped himself.

on the other hand. jade was having the highlight of his day. he would say time of his life but that was only ever reserved for the time azul was scampering around to find a suitable gift for you for… well, no reason that he can remember at all.

after all, he had not been given the pleasure of seeing a pink octopus until then.

in hindsight. he noticed azul was quite down under the works, and even that description was too far off to describe the spiral of a mood that azul seemed to be going through. funny for a while but now quite boring. thankfully, this random child that spoke of odd things made azul interesting once more.

that interest transferred over to them in an instant as he surveyed their form. he had never met this one so he was not so sure how they knew of him, or even spoke so politely with respect for that matter. jade is used to seeing being held in high regard out of fear, not such positive emotion.

a grin breaks his lips apart as he spots the dangling shell initially hidden by their little sweater.

once upon a time he spied on azul giving you the exact same thing…

seems like my theory is correct.

wouldn’t it be hilarious to slap azul with that kind of truth?

“azuuuuul!”

the said male immediately groaned.

solon eyes brightened, letting go of azul’s coat instinctively as the latter quickly straightened his uniform. azul sighed deeply, bracing his remaining brain cells to stick together as he turned. “floyd, how many times do i have to tell you that yelling is unbecoming in the–”

he shuts his mouth at the sight of a blank faced you.

floyd, proudly it seemed, shook his arms in your direction as if you were a surprise. a surprise yes, but certainly not a pleasant one–! “tada!” cackled floyd, sliding an arm around your shoulders and tilting to the side. you wordlessly followed. “i got a tilting shrimpy with me!”

“kidnapped.” you corrected. not too pleased with the sight of azul either which only seemed to fuel floyd’s amusement.

oh. is that what it was? floyd was bored and in dire need of a drama to watch?

at first. you did not notice the little kid. neither did floyd considering he only ever paid attention to his area of ‘people’ which happened to be very few right now. so solon slipped from his radar, only paid attention to when he barrelled to your side.

startled. you hold a hand to their head in case they toppled over from the speed and force they ran over to you with.

floyd shamelessly pointed. “an fry shrimplet sticking to the shrimpy!”

all three of you send him incredulous glances.

“mada!” solon exclaimed with bright eyes, briefly glancing at floyd. “and mister floyd!”

the male in question tilts his head, looks at you, looks at solon, looks at azul then back at solon. “the fry talks!” he blinked.

“of course i talk. you’re always weird, mister floyd.” solon replied, not an ounce of intimidation on their chubby little face at floyd hovering until he leaned down to curiously peer at them. he pokes their chubby cheeks with a grin.

“you’re weird.” floyd retorted like it was obvious, another poke to their cheek has his teeth widening. “and round, hey, hey… you kinda look like az–”

“floyd!” azul snapped with rapidly warming cheeks.

when the male frantically waved floyd over–several times until the latter relented and swaggered forwards, you take the chance to adjust your grip on the child. feeling a sort of responsibility to treat youth with care came naturally as you settled one of your hands on the back of their head, letting them nuzzle all they liked on your stomach.

the other smoothed down the curve of their solider. you felt movement against your front, no doubt a delighted quirk of their lips. it brought a light smile of your own despite your initial wariness to be in the same presence as the intruder of your thoughts.

thoughts that came in either harsh hurricanes, memories less than pleasant swirling around in your head like a storm you can only brace yourself from or a gentle breeze, lighter memories that you couldn’t hold onto as they passed.

nor did you want to remember it again.

“hello there,” you greeted politely at the child who tightened their arms in response. when they looked up their lids were blown open, staring upwards at you with what you presume to be marvel. being the object of such a sentiment has you warming, absentmindedly patting their head. “i’m yuu.”

you also miss the look of offense flashing through azul’s face before he schools it into stubborn neutrality.

“i know!” bubbled the increasingly excited child who promptly bit the inside of their cheek lest they overflow. control what you show. solon thought to themselves but that was so incredibly hard when they could only focus on what they feel!

and what they felt was incredible admiration. even if you were unmistakably younger, more expressive due to the passage of time not caressing your soul long enough for you to be a cultivated version of yourself… this was still the same person that made your house a home alongside their father, who took a more prominent role in managing the smooth flow of the home.

you smiled wider, pinching their cheek. you could melt into a puddle with how the adorable fat stretches as you tugged lightly. would it be possible to shake this little one into oblivion out of cuteness? “i’m solon.” newly introduced solon adds, clearing their throat. “but mada, and papa calls me sol.”

mada? your smile doesn’t falter but you do blink slowly. papa?

you sniffed, glancing up the trio who appeared to be watching you with deep fascination. jade, more so, floyd, less so. azul… was staring pointedly at solon.

“is there a teen father at night raven or did you kidnap some child?” you snorted, tone laced with skepticism.

jade in particular side eyed azul and you followed his sight and could not help your train of thought as you peered back at solon, noting their similar features. huh.

“not at all.” the eel replied smoothly. “azul was just about to recruit a new hire though.”

you blanched. “that’s illegal!” or at least in your world it was… hopefully in this world it is? azul in question immediately straightened up at the feel of your disappointment rolling in waves and he could not help but sputter in defense of his already shattered reputation by you.

“i knew that!” he cried. too aggressive in the manner he shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose to actually know that. “why wouldn’t i?”

“probably only seeing madol rather than the law.”

floyd snickers from his side–having grown bored of remaining idle, and instead striding towards you. he grasps at solon’s arm, about to pull them up and you frantically correct his manner of holding a child before letting him lift them up.

he holds him up under his arms and tilting his head. “you’re even smaller than shrimpy.”

floyd ignores you boldly smacking his side when he feigns dropping solon, who surprisingly does not even yelp in surprise. only blinking when they were temporarily suspended in air, and caught again. this time closer to your side as you tugged on floyd’s arm with a simmering glare.

“that’s a child, floyd!”

“eh? i just see a sticky fry.”

“you need to handle solon with more care. they’re not like me who you can throw around for a bit, i won’t stand for it.”

“shrimpy survived all the rough stuff and now, look. you’re tougher than all those other kids.”

the heat of your stare heightened until floyd pouted and deposited solon to your side. you shuffled several steps backwards. “that’s not how it works.” you pinched the bridge of your nose, refusing to open your eyes when floyd barked out an sure it is!

you also ignore floyd now attempting to rile you up once more–looking for entertainment, which is apparently you brawling with him.

“how did you even end up here?” you sighed defeatedly. at least you weren’t roped into reconciling with azul, which was what you initially thought when floyd popped out from the octavinelle’s mirror in the chamber. he had spotted you chatting with your heartslabyul companions and when they departed back to the space of their dorms he pounced on you.

no polite requests of letting you go loosened his grip as he hauled you to the lounge.

now you were, not talking to azul but instead holding a smaller version of him it seemed. well, good thing this one was cuter than that idiot.

you were spiralling back to azul and your face must have darkened because solon had paused to eye your microexpressions carefully. the squinting of your eyes, the displeased curl of your lips that only pulled down further the more you unconsciously glanced at azul…

he muttered something under his breath.

again, you sighed. “sorry–what was that?”

strangely enough, floyd stopped speaking.

… so did jade who joined floyd to pester solon with endless questions. do you only stick to shrimps? what do you do for your past time? why are you an algae? would you inform authorities if we took you under our wing?

you didn’t even want to question the last part.

when you look up floyd’s mouth was open in an intermittent yawn–one of his eyes was shut and there was moisture gathered on the corners. he was still staring quite interestedly at solon while jade seemed to just… stand still as a statue.

neither of them blinked.

feeling just like the day you found out magic was apparently real and people here could just levitate a remote back to them across a room, you snapped your gaze around. even the customers remained unmoving. you spotted a group of savanaclaw, one pointedly having hurled a glass towards a half dead server of octavinelle who had their back turned.

you contemplate walking over to save that guy from a possible injury before identifying said student to be one of your previous perpetrators–getting your stuff (especially when it was from professor crewel. back then you went to classes without much simply because you were too shameful to ask once more for a replacement) dumped in the fountain was indeed no fun.

goodluck with that. you mused in your head. call it your petty way of payback.

you glanced around for moments longer, lingering on kalim’s midst at some table.

“what in the world…”

apparently azul could move, like you. you’re not sure why and even dreading your predicament. in what world would time freeze and the only one unaffected is you, oh, yeah. your enemy that you self proclaimed in your head? twisted wonderland apparently…

besides your increasingly disgruntled face that you no longer try to mask in the presence of others considering azul is only ever the one you’d show such blatant dislike to now, he looks positively floored. while the turn of his head is slow as he stared around, his eyes are wide through his rims.

the arms encircled around your waist slid off, bringing your attention to solon who frowns lightly. their previous look of sparkling warmth was still present in their eyes, simply dwindled to highlight their look of seriousness. they crossed their arms.

“you’re my before mada,” solon pointed at you, then to azul. “you’re my before papa so now you have to go back to being lovey so i can go back to my mada and papa.”

both of your jaws drop.

“what?!”

“wait a second–this is going too fast.” you blurted, feeling a bit flustered. who would drop a big bomb like that so suddenly? this kid was saying you and azul have a kid in the far time ahead!

didn’t that mean you chose to stay here? or perhaps you never really did find a way back…

implications aside, it was certainly… an experience to hear it being said so outright. azul seems to think the same due to him gasping out an: “y-you mean…” he gaped, eyes darting to you and solon with reddening ears. “they’re my… we… have a…?”

gosh he was going to faint.

it was at least a pleasure to witness the eloquent azul struggling to conjure a coherent sentence. the more he glanced at you the more prominent his change of color was. it didn’t help that his attire helped it contrast from his complexion.

solon giggled, momentarily dropping their face of seriousness. “you said i’m the product of your love.”

azul squawked. “i said that?!” but, that was just so… embarrassing to say! why would his future self say that?!

you frowned. “is this a joke?” you asked seriously only deadpanning when solon nods.

“please make up,” they said sincerely. sensing both of your skeptism, they reached under the collar of their shirt pulling out a shell necklace that eerily seemed similar to–

your hand instinctively flew over your collarbone. panic giving way to unwanted relief. azul watched the motion.

he thought you threw it away since he did not see it.

“i want to go home.”

you simpered bitterly. you did too.

“mada please forgive my weird papa.” solon beamed, ignoring azul’s look of offense.

“if you do you’ll go home too.”

your throat twisted.

“you said me and papa is your home.”

before solon can spot the look of frozen shock from your face, they whirled around, smacking azul on the leg. the latter winces but didn’t look as reluctant as before. he’s even staring at you in the eye with something unreadable and heavy in his.

azul seemed to be weighing his pride the size of a mountain and the depth of his feelings for you that could probably only be measured by the neverending sea. it wasn’t infinite like some cheesy someone would proclaim, but it was calm at some parts, rough at the other but certainly deep.

something he can’t pinpoint a how but he knows.

he sighed deeply. “i apologize.” he said finally, voice low like he only wanted it to flow between the space of the three of you despite the time frozen. azul felt like that was how he spoke to his business transaction partners so he rephrased himself, there was a lot of them and only one of you. “i’m sorry.”

you squinted.

“my mind was clouded before.” he pursed his lips. “i… don’t want you to be special. that only meant you would be something others would be reaching for, i don’t want that. i’m selfish. you’re so special in a way that i can never take ahold of and keep to myself. i dislike it.”

“you’re terrible at communicating.” you pointed out gruffly. albeit less hostile than before, more inclined to hear him out. was being terrible with emotions an admission requirement here? is the concept of affection illegal?

azul chuckled at that. he did not smile–tried to but it fell. “with you it seems so.”

“yeah.”

“i don’t know how to atone.” he admitted and you only furrowed your brows.

“being mean to me isn’t a sin but it sure was unfair.”

you only heard a quiet agreement from him and pointed accusingly. “you’re going to listen to my demands until i say so, okay?”

iffed but carrying a plank to bridge the distance between two mountains, azul nods. “we should discuss it over a contract. i won’t change any terms.”

which was his sad version of an apology. you’ve come to learn that individuals here deviated from the normal and morally right way of doing things. the most you could do was to recognize that this was this world’s version of grovelling on the knees.

you only focused your attention on the brightening solon–literally bright like he was about to get sent to heaven or something. he was only smiling lighty, no teeth. something you’d see on azul’s face but solon did well in expressing something so little sincerely. his expression was brighter than the light he was encased in.

“you’re going home?” you sniffed, aware of azul quietly shuffling to the side where you were in your peripheral vision as if his small steps weren’t noticeable. you didn’t comment on it.

solon nodded enthusiastically. “mhm. thank you.”

they did not bother with a goodbye, it wasn’t a goodbye. they’d see you soon.

“bye, sol.”

you elbowed azul who had somehow managed to awkwardly stand by your left in the span of a few seconds.

he coughed, side eyeing you. “farewell, sol. keep that necklace safe. it is very precious.”

the child laughed. “don’t worry. papa has all the stuff he gave to mada in a box under your bed.”

azul’s eye twitched. “off you go.” it was more of to finally drag you off somewhere himself and a little bit of not letting any of his future secrets be jeopardized.

when the last proof of solon’s existence fades before your eyes, the world starts again.

“-our wing–?” jade finished, frowning when the spot where solon used to be, in front of you, was replaced by nothing.

he blinked. directing his gaze to azul, noticeably lighter who seemed to be quietly exchanging words with you.

“the heck?” guffawed floyd, rearing his head to squint at the two of you. “when did they make up!”

“go back to work.” azul snapped, grasping at your wrist and dragging you off to the direction of the back.

“are you two getting started on solon already?”

“jade!”

trivia

if you guessed, the time stop was solon’s unique magic: “a chilling stop” very boring name, i know. i kind of just spew the children’s UM names off the top of my head! like you have observed it is simply pausing time within a decimated space for a period of time. in this case, solon only paused time inside the lounge. everything outside remained in motion. the larger the range, the harder it is to keep up.

solon is written to be a ten year old cutie pie male! the necklace he was wearing is what past azul gave to past yuu, and future yuu will eventually give it to solon (yes, azul actually does have a box of trinkets he collected. some things from you, the other reminds him of you. it accumulated over the years and he couldn’t stop)

like the other kids who had specified conditions to return, in solon’s time, future yuu and future azul was in a fight, and he coincidentally (or intentionally?) got warped to a time where past yuu and past azul was also in a fight. their conditions to return home was to reconcile their before parents.

when they came back future parents also made up <3 (idk i am just yapping at this point)

yeah. azul was out here trying to recruit a kid just because they ended up doing pretty well with managing the lounge lol.

i accidentally deviated from my outline lol! originally azul was supposed to start interrogating the employees currently on shift as to why they’re letting a kid run the lounge. it was chaos before and solon made it run smoothly so they kind of just accepted it. better than azul coming back to chaos, right?

floyd’s nickname for solon “fry shrimplet” deviates from the babies of shrimps.

as you can see i didn’t see that particular line and i was writing the ending when i saw it!

the names of the employees are not their actual names lol but rather their species, just like what i did for leona’s part with the side characters.

🔖: @lostsomewhereinthegarden @staplertwst @rinis-reality @rhyzoma @iamprodigious @irzali-imagines @glitterandgoldfinds @luna-looniesblog @wokasiv @readrecieptoff @miyaswmire @dakissomewhere @yourfavouritecitizen @rei-vii @colombia-chan @ceramic-raven @leitor-sonolento @night-shadowblood-writes2 @ms-shroud @bju3c0re @usernamesarehardtomake @wonderlandcrown @los3rtown | @squishychongyun @brights-place @mochiclouds @sol3chu @runu-chan @random-fandoms7 @minkyungseokie

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