#l2venotes

[l2vedive]

CHRISTMAS WITH YOU w. jeon wonwoo

first christmas together + fluff (557)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader

note: merry christmas eve !!! here's something to keep you warm and giddy before the year ends <3 i hope y'all are having a good one with ur friends n family 🫶🏻 please don't forget to give a like n a reblog w ur thoughts if you enjoyed !!

the soft crackle of the fireplace fills the living room, casting a warm glow that dances off the walls. the scent of pine mingles with the faint sweetness of cinnamon candles, creating an atmosphere that feels both festive and comforting. the christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, its branches adorned with twinkling lights, baubles, and ribbons.

wonwoo is crouched by its base, untangling a wreath he picked up earlier because, as he put it, “it matches the theme perfectly.” your cat, ever curious, bats playfully at the ribbons dangling from the wreath, earning an exasperated but amused sigh from him.

“you’re not helping, you know,” he says, looking at the cat with mock sternness before turning his attention back to the task.

you’re by the record player, flipping through vinyl sleeves, trying to choose the perfect background song for the evening. it feels important to you—setting the tone, making it just right. your fingers pause on a jazz album, but then you hesitate and move to something else.

“(your name), my love,” wonwoo’s voice cuts through your deliberation, gentle and warm, “whatever you pick will be perfect. honestly, i’d rather hear you humming than anything else.”

you glance over your shoulder, catching his soft smile. “it has to be perfect, though. first christmas together and all that,” you say with a grin, though there’s a hint of seriousness in your tone.

wonwoo rises, the wreath now untangled and hanging neatly on a branch. “it already is,” he says as he crosses the room, wrapping his arms around you from behind. his chin rests lightly on your shoulder, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your temple before he presses a kiss there. “but we’ve got a cake to bake and dinner to prep. think you can multitask, or do i need to pick the song for you?”

you laugh, leaning back into his embrace. “fine, fine. i’ll leave it for now. but if the vibe is off, you’re to blame.”

“deal,” he says easily, his arms loosening as he takes your hand. “come on, let me show you how amazing this wreath looks on the tree. it’s like it was made for it.”

he leads you over, gesturing proudly at the wreath now nestled among the branches. it does look good—better than you’d expected when he’d first brought it home. your cat, meanwhile, has abandoned the ribbons and is now swatting at the shiny wrappers beneath the tree.

“well, she’s having the time of her life,” you say, watching the cat with a fond shake of your head.

“at least someone is,” he jokes. “come on, let’s get started on that cake before she decides the wrapping paper is a snack.”

just as you’re about to head to the kitchen, the doorbell rings, a cheerful chime that sends your cat scurrying under the sofa. “that’ll be our first guests,” you say, your excitement bubbling up.

wonwoo squeezes your hand. “i’ll get it. you start setting out the ingredients. don’t worry—i’ll make sure everyone knows the cat’s got dibs on the tree.”

you laugh, giving him a playful shove as you head towards the kitchen. the sound of your friends’ voices fills the room moments later, their laughter blending seamlessly with the warmth of the evening. it’s a scene of perfect chaos—exactly how christmas should be.

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[l2vedive]

TOXIC TILL THE END w. kim mingyu

fighting in the rain + angst (1,085)

pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader

note: thank you rosie for giving me even more writing juice while it rained two nights ago 🎀 if you liked this , please rb with your thoughts and give it a heart. thank you !

the rain drenches both of you, icy and unrelenting, but the cold pales in comparison to the chill between you. mingyu stands there, soaked and trembling, his eyes pleading with you, but you don’t flinch. the exhaustion, the frustration—it all boils over, spilling out in waves you can’t control anymore.

"you don’t get it, do you, gyu?" you start, your voice sharp, cracking under the strain. "all these years—seven years—and you still don’t see it. everything i’ve done, everything i’ve given up, and for what? for you to chase something that’s tearing us apart? for me to feel like i’m always the one holding us together while you… you just get to dream?"

mingyu shakes his head, stepping closer, his voice shaking. "it’s not like that, i swear. i’m not just doing this for me! it’s for us—our future. don’t you see that, (your name)? if i give up now, i’ll regret it forever, and I don’t want that. i don’t want you to unlove me like that."

"unlove you?" you laugh bitterly, the sound hollow, cutting through the rain. "you think this is about unloving you? gyu, i’m falling apart. every day, i feel like i have nothing of myself to pick up and put back together anymore. do you know? what it feels like to come home after working and studying for hours, to be so drained you can’t even think straight, only to feel like you're fighting in this relationship alone? do you even know what it’s like to feel so unseen?"

he freezes, his face contorting in pain, but you don’t stop. you can’t stop. it’s been building for too long.

"you’re chasing a dream that might never happen, gyu. and i’m here, trying to build a life for us—a real one! i’ve been pouring everything into us, into this future we’re supposed to have—we dreamed about. but all i’ve got left is nothing. i’ve got nothing, gyu." your voice cracks, and the tears finally fall, mixing with the rain as you sob. "how many more sacrifices am i supposed to make for you? how much of myself do i have to lose before you finally understand?"

"i do understand!" mingyu shouts, his voice desperate, his hands clenching into fists. "but i’m trying so hard, too. please.. i can’t just let this go—it’s all i’ve ever wanted. please, just give me more time. i’ll make it work, i promise. i promise i'll make it."

"more time?" you repeat, your voice trembling. "seven years, gyu. i’ve given you seven years of my life. my life! and now you’re asking for more? what happens when another year passes? or two? or ten? what will be left of me by then?"

his breath catches, and for a moment, he looks like he might fall apart. "don’t say that," he whispers, stepping closer. "please don’t say that. i love you. i love you more than anything, (your name). and i’ll do whatever it takes to make you stay. just don’t go. don’t leave me."

you stare at him, the rain pounding against your skin, and your heart feels like it’s being ripped apart. you love him—of course you do—but love isn’t enough anymore. it hasn’t been enough for the longest time. a long time ago you had ripped your heart out to put it in his hands and hoped that you both would fight for it. and it's funny because all you can think about in this very moment is when will you both stop trying.

"what will happen to us then, gyu?" you ask, your voice shaking with the weight of everything you’re feeling. "how many years of my life will be wasted if i stay? how many more nights will i cry myself to sleep, wondering if i’m ever going to be enough for you to choose me over your passion?"

he tries to respond, but the words fail him. all he can do is look at you, his eyes glossy, his chest heaving with unspoken loss. and in that silence, you realise it—the answer you’ve been seeing and living with.

"you already chose," you whisper, stepping back one final time. "you’ve been choosing, every single day. and now… now i have to choose, too."

mingyu's hand reaches out for you, but you turn away, your footsteps heavy, your heart shattering with each step you take. behind you, his voice breaks as he calls your name, begging, pleading, but you don’t stop.

because this time, you’re choosing yourself. and even though it feels like it’s killing you, you know you can’t keep drowning for someone who won’t reach for the surface with you.

[l2vedive]

DOUBLE TAKE w. joshua hong

wedding au ; kinda meeting the family trope + fluff and crack (730)

pairing: hong jisoo (joshua) x fem!reader

featuring: kim mingyu as your cousin

note: thought about this on a whim during a car ride to a wedding anniversary party i attended. enjoy !! please rb and like <3

you’re standing in a sea of pastel-dressed guests, the soft hum of chatter and clinking glasses filling the garden. it’s a beautiful evening—peach-coloured skies, fairy lights strung across trees, and the distant strains of a string quartet playing something vaguely familiar. you spot mingyu, your cousin and the groom of the lovely event, laughing with a few friends near the buffet table. he’s always been the golden boy of the family—charming, successful, and annoyingly smug about it.

and that’s when you see him.

joshua.

you’ve never personally met him before, only knowing about him during the wedding rehearsals as a former wedding singer about three years ago from one of the bride's band of bridesmaids. you thought to yourself about how with a face like that, how could anyone still be single. there’s no denial in that.

there was something about the way he carried himself while balancing a plate of hors d'oeuvres with an easy smile. he’s tall, lean, with a soft kind of confidence that doesn’t need to shout to be noticed. joshua looks up, and for a brief moment, your eyes meet.

your mind races. mingyu had spent the last week teasing you about being single, nudging you about how everyone in the family was settling down except you. “what’s taking so long? don’t you have anyone?” he’d asked with that insufferable grin.

and just like that, an idea blooms. a ridiculous one at that. a crazy idea that makes you hope would work despite not thinking about the logistics of it.

you make your way across the crowd, weaving through clusters of guests, until you’re standing right next to him. “hi,” you say, flashing your most disarming smile.

he glances at you, startled but polite. “uh, hi?”

“listen,” you lower your voice, leaning in slightly as you draw out the plan. “i know this is going to sound strange, but could you pretend to be my boyfriend? just for a moment. it’s complicated.”

joshua's brows shoot up in surprise, and you can see the gears turning in his head. “pretend ?” he echoes. “why?”

“i’ll explain later,” you promise, grabbing his arm before he can protest. “please, just trust me.”

before he can respond, you’re pulling him towards mingyu who is chatting up a few of the bride's own guests.

“gyu!” you call out in a tune, your voice bright and cheerful.

your cousin turns, grinning as always. “(your name), there you are!” he goes in for a hug before his eyes flicker to joshua, curiosity sparking. “and who’s this?”

you squeeze joshua’s arm lightly, as if urging him to play along. “this,” you announce with a casual confidence you don’t feel, “is joshua. my boyfriend .”

mingyu’s grin falters for a split second before he recovers. “boyfriend?” he repeats, a touch of disbelief colouring his tone.

“yes, boyfriend,” you reply smoothly, shooting mingyu a pointed look as if daring him to question you further.

joshua, to his credit, doesn’t miss a beat. the man next to you extends a hand, his expression friendly but calm. “nice to meet you, man. (your name) has told me a lot about you.”

mingyu shakes his hand, still looking slightly suspicious. “funny, she’s never mentioned you before.”

“oh, you know how she is,” joshua says with a laugh, playing along effortlessly. “always keeps me as her little secret.” you stand up a little bit straighter when you realise his hand has moved to rest on the small of your back.

you can’t help but feel a pang of gratitude for how natural he’s making this look.

but then mingyu’s eyes narrow, a sly grin creeping onto his face. “you must be serious if she’s introducing you now. what’s next? a wedding?”

you freeze, scrambling to think of an answer but joshua speaks up before you do. he chuckles, pulling you closer. “funny you should mention that,” he says, his tone light and teasing, “we’re actually engaged.”

“what ?! ” you and mingyu exclaim in unison, though for very different reasons.

you shoot joshua a wide-eyed look, but he just shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “you dragged me into this,” he whispers under his breath, lips barely moving, “might as well commit.”

mingyu looks utterly delighted. “engaged? well, this is news! congratulations, you two. shall i announce this during the toast? ooh, the family would be so glad to—,”

you cut him off before he could continue and eventually inform the rest of the guests about your endeavours. "everything's fine, thank you!"

“we’ll let you get back to hosting,” joshua says smoothly, steering you away from mingyu before the other man can protest.

once you’re safely out of earshot, you whirl around to face him. “engaged? really ? ”

joshua grins, entirely unapologetic. “what? you needed help, and it seemed like the logical next step.”

you stare at him, torn between annoyance and reluctant admiration. “you’re unbelievable.”

“and yet, you’re still holding my arm,” he points out, his smile softening.

“so, what’s the plan now, fiancée? ”

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[l2vedive]

FROM THE ASHES w. hansol vernon chwe

supernatural horror au + childhood best friends (5.8k)

SUMMARY: in which you and hansol reunite ten years later to face the horrors of the past that left you both scarred and haunted. (reader and hansol centric)

pairing: hansol vernon chwe x fem!reader

featuring: lee chan of seventeen & lee nakyung of fromis

genres: SLOWBURN, angst, kinda horror, supernatural, action, childhood best friends w trauma, set in the 80s

warning(s): crazy amounts of lore, so much slowburn, hurt/comfort, mild descriptions of violence, character death

notes: wrote this purely for my own entertainment after replaying the game the other day. this is inspired by two games actually! it has elements of choices' book called it lives in the woods and romance club's shadows of saintfour. this has some heavy lore but i've done my best to break down most of it so you guys can understand it without playing ♡

if you liked this read, please don't forget to reblog with your thoughts and give it a like !

i. bravery.

it’s late in the evening, and the air feels heavy. you’re standing in front of the old house, the one that’s always felt both like a home and a prison. your small hands are trembling as you clutch the hem of your jacket, eyes scanning the darkened street outside, the distant sounds of the city muffled by the thick fog that has rolled in. you’ve been told not to go out past sunset, that the pisadeira—that thing from the nightmares—will get you. but your mother has been distant for weeks, locked in a room, her eyes wide with fear, always watching the shadows like they’re waiting for something to come.

you know you’re not supposed to be out here. you know the stories. everyone does. don’t go near the flowers. don’t look into the darkness. don’t listen to the whispers. but your feet move before you can think about it, the pull of the unknown stronger than any fear you’ve ever felt. you cross the threshold into the garden, the flowers there too large, too bright, almost alive. your heart races as the petals glisten like they’ve been touched by some forbidden magic, their beauty something both inviting and dangerous.

it’s then that you hear it—the soft voice, like the rustle of leaves in the wind, and you freeze. "come closer."

your breath catches in your throat. you don’t know why you don’t run.

ii. cowardice

hansol is young, barely a year older than you, but already carrying a weight in his chest that most kids his age wouldn’t understand. he doesn’t like to talk about it, the feeling—the one that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when he’s alone in the dark. it’s not fear, exactly, more like a sense that something should be there. a presence. a pressure. something pulling at him from the shadows.

his family has always moved around. never staying in one place too long. too many unanswered questions about his father’s work, too many late nights with hushed conversations. hansol never really thought it was strange, until that one night. the one when he was alone in his room, playing with his toy cars, and he felt the air change. the floorboards creaked under someone’s weight—someone who wasn’t there.

the whispers started soon after. he couldn’t remember when, but they were always there, following him like a second shadow, calling him to the dark corners of the house. come closer. i’m waiting.

he told no one. even when his mother came in to check on him that night, he lied, said everything was fine. but deep down, hansol knew something was wrong. there was something in the dark, something that waited for the right moment to pull him under.

iii. small

the bell rings, and you’re at the gates of the middle school, your heart thumping in your chest for reasons you can’t explain. hansol is standing at the edge of the crowd, his usual stoic expression softening when he sees you. he waves shyly, like he always does, and you can’t help but smile back.

“hey, hansol,” you say, walking up to him with a grin. “you know what’s worse than studying for a pop quiz?”

he raises an eyebrow, the faintest spark of interest in his eyes. “what?”

“studying for a pop quiz with the teacher standing over your shoulder,” you say, laughing at the face he makes. “you’d think they’d give us a break.”

he tries to keep it in, but the smile breaks out anyway, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. it’s small, but you notice. “you’re a terrible influence,” he says with a shake of his head, but you can see the fondness in his eyes. inside, his chest flutters, and it’s the kind of flutter he wants to squash. but he can’t, not when you’re standing so close, your laughter light in the air, something unspoken between you both.

iv. sleepover

the annual sleepover at your house is always the most anticipated event of the year. even now, with the haunted past of saintfour hanging over your shoulders, it feels like something that should bring comfort. something normal. but things feel different this time.

hansol is the first to arrive, as always, but this time, there’s an unease in his eyes, a look that doesn’t quite belong in a child his age. he brushes it off when you greet him with a teasing smile, ruffling his hair as he steps inside. a small girl follows behind him and you swoop her up in your arms.

"it's not funny, you know," he mutters, brushing off your hand, but the corners of his lips twitch.

“gyul thinks it is, right?” you giggle and so does she, mirroring every expression you make.

hansol rolls his eyes and takes her from you so you could go and get things settled for the others.

as the night wears on after putting the youngest attendee to bed, you and your friends, hansol included, settle into the living room. nakyung is the first to start whispering, chan and hansol are too wrapped up in their snacks and games to notice that the air around you all is growing thicker, heavier.

“hey, do you guys feel that?” you ask, glancing around the room. your voice is shaky, uncertain, but they all brush it off.

“it’s just the storm outside,” nakyung laughs, waving it off. “you’re imagining it.”

but you know what you feel. the chill in the air is different. unnatural. and then you hear it. the soft whispers again, curling around you like smoke. come closer. it’s time to wake up.

before you can react, you feel it—something cold, something sharp, dragging its claws down your neck.

“no!” you scream, stumbling back, but the pain is overwhelming. the petals of the flowers from your nightmares begin to fall, drifting like snowflakes, but the touch of them is suffocating. you gasp, trying to push them away, but it’s no use.

“help! someone help her—!”

your vision dims, everything turning dark as the pain intensifies. you feel yourself slipping, your body falling against the ground as your breath catches in your throat. and then, everything goes black.

when you wake, you find a scar on your neck—a mark of the night you almost didn’t survive. the petals, though, are gone. the whispers are silent. but you can still feel it. she’s still here.

v. whispers

it’s been ten years. a decade of silence. no phone calls, no texts, no letters. you’ve gone your separate ways, drifting through life without the familiar presence of hansol, nakyung, or the others. it’s as if the past—the horrors of saintfour—were a shared dream that none of you wanted to remember. and yet, here you are, standing in the same auditorium once again, the weight of that history pressing down on your chest.

you sit in the crowd of new and old faces, the orientation assembly unfolding in front of you like any typical college event. there’s laughter, excitement, and the usual pre-university buzz in the air. you know hansol is somewhere in the crowd, though you can’t bring yourself to search for him. you feel the pull of your past, that strange, unexplainable tug, but you push it down. this is your fresh start. you won’t let the pisadeira ruin it.

but then, the lights flicker.

it’s subtle at first, just a quick blink, a brief interruption in the otherwise seamless flow of the assembly. no one else seems to notice, but your heart skips a beat. something’s wrong.

the smell of wildflowers invades the air. not the delicate, sweet fragrance of a bouquet—no, this is sharp, invasive, almost suffocating.

not again.

your pulse spikes as the familiar voice drifts into your mind, soft, like a breath against your skin. come closer, (your name).

it’s her. she’s here.

you try to steady your breath, your hands trembling as the whispers grow louder, more insistent, more malicious. i’ve waited for you. don’t run away.

your vision blurs, the room spinning as you struggle to stay grounded in the present. you glance around quickly, desperate to find someone who isn’t caught in the same trap. but everyone else is oblivious, lost in the crowd, unaware of the danger lurking at the edge of your perception.

except hansol, who locks eyes with you. he knows.

you’re back in it. back in the nightmare you thought you escaped.

vi. reawakening

it’s the third week of college when he knocks on your door. hansol. standing in the hallway, looking exactly as you remember, but older, quieter. his eyes are darker now, shadowed by years of things unsaid, but they still hold the same familiarity. you’re caught off guard, unsure of how to react. you weren’t expecting this, not after ten years.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper, trying to mask the shock that’s creeping up your throat.

he hesitates before answering, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. “your parents blame me,” he says quietly, his gaze not meeting yours. “and I’ve accepted it.”

the words hang heavy in the air, a confession of guilt, an admission of the years he’s spent with that weight on his shoulders. your stomach churns, a mix of anger and sadness rising up. how could they? how could they blame him for something neither of you could control?

you swallow, trying to process everything, but all you can think of is the way hansol looks so small now, so paralysed by the memories of things that shouldn’t be real. you’re reminded of the times when you both stood on the precipice of danger, and you couldn’t protect him. you couldn’t fight back against the monsters that seemed so real.

but you will now.

a fire stirs in your chest, something deep inside you that makes you want to protect him this time. this time, you’ll fight.

you find yourself tracking him, watching from the corners of campus, noting the places he frequents when the weekend comes. you never ask him where he’s going—never question it—but you always seem to find the empty seat next to him, always make sure to sit there when no one else does.

he doesn’t question it at first, but soon, he gives you a sideways glance, his gaze sharp but unreadable. “why didn’t you ask me first?”

you shrug, a small, playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “didn’t think I needed to.”

and he doesn’t question how you found him, either. perhaps he’s just relieved to have you there, even if he doesn’t admit it. but his silence is heavy, and you know there’s more to his avoidance than he’s letting on. there always is with hansol.

you’re back in each other’s lives now, and you can feel the weight of what’s coming. you both know it’s not over. it never was. but maybe, just maybe, this time, you won’t be alone.

vii. dive

the party hums with energy, laughter, and loud music, but hansol is nowhere near the centre of it. you find him by the garden, crouched by a patch of daisies, plucking their petals with deliberate precision. with each one, he tosses it lightly into the nearby pool, watching as they float and swirl on the water’s surface.

“you know, that’s supposed to be romantic,” you tease, crossing your arms as you approach. “daisies in a pool? what’s the occasion?”

he glances up at you, his expression unreadable but familiar. “just thought it was nice. peaceful, you know?”

“peaceful? at a party?” you ask, tilting your head. “didn’t think you’d even show up to something like this.”

“figured it’d be less lonely,” he replies, brushing a stray petal from his hand. “knowing the people I grew up with would be here, even if I’m not exactly a part of it.”

you blink, caught off guard by his honesty, but you quickly recover. “well, you’ve got company now,” you say lightly, sitting down on the edge of the pool beside him.

the conversation shifts to small talk, catching up on little details about classes, professors, and the mundane chaos of college life. hansol doesn’t say much, but when he does, his words are careful, thoughtful. he seems more at ease out here, away from the crowd.

then, david bowie’s modern love starts playing from the speakers, the familiar beat making your foot tap instinctively. you nudge his shoulder, a playful grin spreading across your face. “come on. dance with me.”

he leans back slightly, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “me? dancing out there? maybe you should ask chan. he’d love to dance with you.”

you roll your eyes, laughing, but you pause to search his face. there’s no hint of jealousy, no hard feelings—just a quiet acceptance, as if he’s fine watching from the sidelines. reassured, you rise and wave over chan, who doesn’t hesitate to grab your hand and spin you in a dramatic twirl that makes you laugh out loud.

soon, you’re in the middle of a lively group, dancing like you’ve known each other for years. you fit right in, your energy infectious, your smile bright.

from the edge of the garden, hansol watches you. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes.. you’re the same as you’ve always been. plucky, bold, unafraid to dive into life headfirst.

some things never change, he thinks, his lips curving into a small, almost imperceptible smile.

viii. reverse

study hall is quiet, save for the soft rustle of papers and the occasional tapping of pens against wooden desks. you’ve claimed a corner of the room, surrounded by textbooks and open tabs on your laptop—not for your upcoming pop quiz, but for something far more unsettling.

“pisadeira,” you mutter under your breath, scrolling through yet another article on the folklore.

“still on about that?”

you startle at the voice, looking up to see hansol standing there holding a takeout paper bag for iced americanos without waiting for an invitation, he sets the bag down and slides into the seat next to you.

“you’re supposed to be studying,” he says, nodding toward the pile of notes sprawled across your desk.

“and you’re supposed to avoid this topic,” you counter, narrowing your eyes. “why are you even here?”

he shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. “figured you’d need a distraction.”

you scoff, though the sight of him flipping through your notes catches you off guard. hansol hasn’t willingly spoken about the pisadeira since that night ten years ago, and seeing him this invested stirs something uneasy in you.

“you never wanted to talk about her before,” you say, your voice quieter now. “why the sudden interest?”

he doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on one of your highlighted sections. “because she’s not just in your head,” he finally says.

you grit your teeth, frustration bubbling up. “i had another nightmare about her,” you admit. “last week. it was—” you pause, shaking your head. “it felt so real.”

“it’s just a dream,” he says firmly, turning to face you. “you’ll be ready if it happens again. we both will.”

his words are meant to comfort you, but they only add to the weight you already feel. you let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your temples. “you know, sometimes I wish I could just live a normal college life. no nightmares, no supernatural shit, just classes, lazy and terror professors in between and stupid long exams that require all nighters.”

hansol chuckles softly, the sound breaking the tension between you. “if all else fails,” he says after a moment, “you can always swing by my place in the future and help me with boring work stuff.”

you smile faintly, glancing down at your notes. “i might just take you up on that,” you say softly.

for the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter.

ix. time

the sorority house is alive with music and chatter, fairy lights strung across the ceiling casting a soft glow over the room. it’s the first party of the semester you’ve hosted, and your sorority sisters flit around the space, greeting guests and pulling people onto the makeshift dance floor. the air smells faintly of sweet cocktails and the flowers you’d arranged on every table earlier, a hollow attempt to lighten your unease.

it’s been two months since you last dreamt of the pisadeira. the quiet should be a relief, but it isn’t. not when reports have started to trickle through campus about students collapsing, choking on petals of purple flowers and other strange remains. she’s here, you know it, even if she hasn’t come for you yet. but why?

your stomach tightens, not from the pisadeira’s absence but from the creeping feeling of not belonging. this isn’t your scene, no matter how hard you try to pretend otherwise. you’re smiling, laughing, blending in, but for the first time, you feel out of place.

you force the thoughts away, telling yourself this party is meant to be a distraction. another night to blend in, to laugh and pretend like you don’t have a target painted on your back. nakyung has been doing her best to keep you entertained, introducing you to some of the boys she brought along, but none of them hold your attention. they’re polite, but their smiles are shallow, their conversation uninteresting.

“come on, smile,” nakyung whispers, nudging you with her elbow as she gestures toward a small group of guys lingering by the makeshift bar. “they’re cute, right? you should at least try.”

you force a smile, but it feels brittle. “they’re not my type.”

“you don’t have a type,” she retorts, rolling her eyes. “you’re just being stubborn.”

as nakyung drifts off to entertain someone else, you take a deep breath, your stomach knotting tighter with every passing second. the truth is, this isn’t your scene. it never has been. tonight, you feel the weight of that reality more than ever.

you glance around, catching sight of hansol by the snack table. he’s pouring himself a drink, looking more like a ghost than a guest.

he’s been here for five minutes, maybe less, and already he’s drifted to the edge of the room. across the hall, hansol is doing his best to blend into the wallpaper. chan had promised this party would be fun, nudging him along with a grin as they arrived. but as soon as they entered, chan was gone, disappearing into the crowd to charm strangers.

hansol doesn’t join him. he never does. instead, he hugs the corner of the party, his fingers curling nervously around the rim of his glass. his stomach churns, not from the punch but from the persistent tug of unease that’s been gnawing at him all evening. the music thrums against his chest like a second heartbeat, and yet he feels like he’s the only one moving in slow motion, the clock dragging its hands with agonising patience.

he’s by the snack table you meticulously laid out earlier, his shoulders hunched. hansol feels like an afterthought here, a placeholder for a party that doesn’t need him.

he glances at his watch, willing the minutes to pass faster, his chest tight with unease. it’s not the party that’s getting to him, though. it’s the clock. it feels like a countdown to something you can’t name, but every second that ticks by only makes him feel sicker.

he looks in a hurry. like he’s chasing time, trying to outrun something.

and then, as if sensing your curiosity, his gaze finds yours across the room.

you’re across the room, framed by the warm glow of fairy lights, your expression distant. for a moment, he wonders if you’re as uncomfortable as he is. when your eyes meet, it’s like the noise of the crowd fades into the background.

you smile—a small, fleeting gesture, but genuine.

he wants to smile back, to walk over, to say something, anything. but the moment stretches too long.

he doesn’t move, and neither do you

instead, you turn away, letting the crowd swallow you back up. hansol stays rooted to the spot, watching as you slip back into the crowd, a forced laugh on your lips as nakyung waves you over to meet another new face. hansol watches as you disappear into the sea of faces, his grip tightening around the cup in his hand.

somewhere in the corner of your mind, you replay the brief encounter, wondering why your heart clenched in that strange, familiar way. for a second, you’d felt tethered, but now the party feels lonelier than ever.

maybe he could’ve walked over, said something, done anything, if he didn’t already know what was coming.

but he does.

he looks at his glass, his reflection faintly visible in the surface of the drink. for a moment, he swears he sees something ripple beneath it, a flicker of purple that disappears the second he blinks.

x. pisadeira

the ruins reek of blood and decay, the air thick with the copper tang of the pisadeira's end. your dress clings to your skin, sodden with sweat, dirt, and her blood—so dark it looks black under the moonlight. your breathing is laboured, each inhale a desperate attempt to find clarity, but there is none to be found.

"leave them," hansol says, voice sharp as a whip, pulling you away from the remains of her carnage. the “dogs”—summoned guardians nakyung had managed to control—snarl and lunge at the creatures spilling into the ruins, their teeth gleaming like moonlit steel. "we have to go."

"we can’t just—" you start, but he grips your arm, the pressure of his fingers like iron.

"there’s no time!"

the urgency in his tone silences you, but the unease in your gut only grows as he pulls you, nakyung, and chan into the woods. branches claw at your ruined dress as you stumble after him, feet numb from the cold. the shadows seem alive, writhing like snakes in your periphery. hansol moves with a singular purpose, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

you glance back at chan and nakyung. chan’s face is pale, his usual easygoing charm replaced with grim determination. nakyung looks shaken, her lips pressed into a thin line, but she follows without question.

"hansol," you say, your voice trembling. "what’s going on? where are we going?"

"somewhere safe," he says, but there’s a crack in his voice, a crack you don’t miss.

"safe?" nakyung repeats, her tone laced with suspicion. "what do you mean safe? safe from what?"

"just trust me," hansol says, not looking back.

you want to trust him. god, you want to trust him. but something about the way he moves, the way his hand keeps brushing the pocket of his jacket, makes your heart pound with something other than exertion.

the forest thickens, the trees closing in around you like skeletal fingers. the air grows colder, the smell of wildflowers creeping into your nostrils. your steps falter.

"hansol," you whisper, panic threading your voice. "she’s here, isn’t she? the pisadeira’s not—"

"it’s not her," he cuts you off, his voice low and haunted. "not anymore."

you stop in your tracks. "what do you mean?"

he turns to face you, and for the first time, you see it—the torment, the guilt, the unbearable weight he’s been carrying.

"hangyul," he says, his voice breaking. "it’s my sister."

the world tilts and you feel like the wind’s knocked you off of your feet. "what?" you breathe, stepping back.

"she’s the one," he says, his voice trembling with the effort to stay steady. "the one who’s been hunting us. the one who’s been killing them."

"no," you say, shaking your head. "no, that’s not—she’s dead, hansol. she’s been dead for ten years."

"because of you," he snaps, the venom in his tone slicing through you. "because you failed to save her. because you let pisadeira take her."

the accusation hits like a physical blow, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

"that’s not fair!" nakyung interjects, stepping forward. "you know it’s not her fault."

"isn’t it?" hansol says, his eyes locking onto yours, sharp and unyielding. "she was the one who insisted we stay in that house. the one who convinced us it wasn’t real. and now my sister—she was innocent ! ” hansol turns to you, exasperated and eyes blurred with anger. “you turned her into a monster."

"she wasn’t your sister anymore," you say, your voice trembling. "not after what the pisadeira did to her. you know that."

"and you think that makes it easier?" he shouts, his composure shattering. "you think that makes it any less my responsibility to save her now?"

"save her?" chan echoes, his voice sharp with disbelief. "by doing what, hansol? what are you planning?"

silence falls, heavy and suffocating. hansol’s hand moves to his pocket, and when it emerges, it holds a knife.

"no," you whisper, your blood turning to ice.

"i’m sorry," he says, his voice hollow. "but this is the only way."

"you’re not making any sense!" you scream, backing away. "hansol, stop ! "

but he doesn’t stop. he steps forward, his grip on the knife tightening.

"i can’t let her keep suffering," he says, his voice breaking. "and i can’t let her come for you again. if i have to end this—if i have to hurt you to save her—then so be it."

"you’re insane," nakyung spits, stepping between you. "you think killing her—killing us—is going to fix anything? you’re just as much a monster as she is!"

"hansol, please," you say, your voice cracking. "don’t do this. we can find another way."

but he shakes his head, tears streaming down his face. "there is no other way. i have to end this. i have to end her."

and then he lunges.

your survival instincts take over, your body moving before your mind can catch up. you grab a fallen branch, swinging it with all your strength. the knife slices through the air, grazing your arm before you manage to knock it from his grip.

"traitor," you hiss, your voice filled with betrayal and heartbreak. "you brought us here. you led us into this."

"because i had to," he says, his voice breaking. "you don’t understand—"

"then make me understand!" you scream, the weight of ten years of pain and regret crashing down on you.

but he doesn’t answer. instead, he stumbles back, his hand clutching his side where your makeshift weapon struck.

"hansol," nakyung says, her voice trembling. "don’t make us do this. please."

he doesn’t respond. instead, he looks at you, his eyes filled with an agony you can’t begin to comprehend.

when the knife finally finds your back, the betrayal hurts more than the sting of the blade.

xi. bravery

the room is a warzone of exhaustion and regret, every shadow crawling with the remnants of what had just unfolded. nakyung and chan lie unconscious but breathing, their bodies splayed across the cold stone floor like broken dolls. the silence that follows is heavier than the chaos it replaced. the spirit of the pisadeira looms ahead, a gnarled figure of fury and vengeance, her form almost too grotesque to look at directly. but your eyes are drawn instead to hangyul’s ghost—her face streaked with spectral tears, her cries thin and keening, a sound that seems to reverberate inside your chest.

your body is screaming at you to stop, to lay down and give in to the pain radiating from your back where hansol’s knife had found you earlier. you clutch the wound with trembling fingers, sticky with blood, but your legs stay steady beneath you. barely.

hansol moves towards you like a puppet with its strings cut, dragging his feet as though the weight of his guilt has made it impossible to walk properly. his face is pale, streaked with sweat and grime, his eyes hollow and faraway. when he finally stands in front of you, you see a boy unravelling, a man drowning in the consequences of his choices.

he whispers, “i’m sorry,” but the words fall into the abyss between you, too light to matter now.

you can feel the fury bubbling in your chest, threatening to spill over. “sorry?” your voice trembles with anger and anguish. “you think that fixes this? you think that fixes her?” you gesture to hangyul’s ghost, to the weeping figure of the sister he’s chased after for so long.

his head dips low, his shame radiating like heat. “everything I did… was for her,” he says, his voice cracking. “i thought—i thought if i gave her what she wanted, if i made it right—”

“you betrayed us,” you cut him off, your voice sharper than you mean it to be. “you betrayed me, hansol.”

the words land like blows, and he flinches visibly.

but then you see it—the way his hands shake, the way his lips press together as though holding back a sob. he doesn’t want to fight anymore. he doesn’t want to keep running.

and despite everything—despite the knife in your back, the blood on his hands—you see the boy you grew up with, the boy who once handed you the last piece of bread during a sleepover, who once told you your laugh was louder than the cicadas.

“you can’t fix this by throwing yourself into it,” you say, softer this time. “don’t you see? the pisadeira doesn’t want justice, hansol. she wants suffering. she’ll take you, and it’ll never end.”

he looks at you then, truly looks at you, and you can see the cracks in him deepening. “then what am i supposed to do?”

you glance at hangyul’s ghost, her ethereal form flickering, fading in and out like a candle struggling to stay lit. your mind is racing, calculating the options. the pisadeira’s form trembles, growing impatient, her sharp, distorted voice rasping through the air.

“one soul,” she hisses. “one soul to replace the one lost. a fair trade.”

hansol starts to step forward, his movements deliberate, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.

“no,” you say firmly.

“(your name), please,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “this is my fault. let me fix it.”

“if you want to fix it, you stay alive,” you snap, your breath hitching from the sharp pain in your back. “you stay alive, and you remember this. you live with it. and you make it mean something.”

he stares at you, wide-eyed, as you step past him. your body feels like it’s made of lead, every movement torturing him, but you don’t stop. before he can stop you, you turn and step toward the pisadeira, the wound in your side burning like fire, your legs trembling but unyielding. the creature watches you with a twisted smile, her skeletal fingers outstretched. hangyul’s ghost weeps behind her, mouthing a silent plea for you to stop.

“no!” hansol lunges forward, grabbing your arm, but you wrench yourself free. you feel hansol’s scream more than you hear it, but you don’t turn back. bravery is all you have left.

"let her go," you say, your voice clear and strong. "take me instead.".

“don’t make me watch this again,” you hear hansol plead, his voice desperate, tears streaking his face. “please, (your name). don’t—”

“it has to end. you told me yourself. this happened because of me.” you say, your voice steady despite the fear coursing through you. “so it will end with me too.”

you step into the circle at the centre of the room, where the ritual had been poised to complete with hansol’s sacrifice. the pisadeira snarls, her twisted face splitting into something that might have been a grin.

you glance back at hansol one last time, your eyes meeting his. you see the devastation there, the love, the regret. and for a brief moment, you smile. “be brave and live well, hansol,” you tell him. a tear falls and you can’t bear the thought of looking back and seeing him broken.

you see hangyul’s ghost move closer, her lips forming the words "thank you." before she vanishes like a light. at the same time, the pisadeira’s grin widens as her claws pierce your chest, the pain white-hot and all-encompassing. as the darkness closes in.

and then, nothing.

xii. cowardice

when the silence falls, it is not the peaceful kind. it is the suffocating quiet of loss, the heavy weight of a world newly broken. hansol’s knees give out beneath him, and he crumples onto the cold, uneven ground. his head falls into his hands, shaking as sobs tear from his throat.

"no," he whispers hoarsely, his voice trembling and thin. "no, no, no…"

the ruins are bathed in an eerie stillness, illuminated only by the dim glow of the moon. nakyung and chan stir on the floor, groaning faintly as they start to come to, but they are not awake enough to witness the wreckage left behind. hansol feels the briefest flicker of relief that they’re alive—alive, because of you—but it is fleeting, swallowed by the sight of you lying motionless, your body crumpled on the stone floor, your skin pale and cold to the touch.

this is his doing.

"it wasn’t supposed to be this way," he rasps, his hands trembling as he cups your face, brushing his thumb against your clammy cheek. he pulls you close, his tears falling onto your lifeless skin. "you weren’t supposed to—" his voice breaks, and he clutches you tighter, as though holding you close might bring you back.

the sound of sirens pierces the distance, their wailing cry growing louder with each second. hansol freezes, his chest heaving as panic sets in. he can’t be seen here. not like this. not holding your body, your blood on his hands, his knife discarded somewhere in the wreckage.

they’ll blame him. they should blame him.

"no, not like this," he whispers, his hands shaking as he gently lowers your body back onto the ground. his fingers brush your hair away from your face, his breath catching in his throat as he takes in every detail of you—the softness of your features, the way your lashes rest against your cheeks, the faint traces of the bravery you wore so fiercely etched into your expression.

a daisy lies nearby, untouched amidst the chaos, and he picks it up with trembling fingers. carefully, he tucks it into your hair, his movements deliberate and tender, as though this small act might undo the horrors of the night.

"i’m sorry," he whispers, his voice breaking. "i’m so sorry."

the sirens are close now, too close. hansol’s heart pounds in his chest as he looks at you one last time, memorising every detail, every part of you that he couldn’t save.

and then he runs.

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[l2vedive]

BUTTERCUP w. kwon soonyoung (hoshi)

province boy x rich girl au (915)

pairing: kwon soonyoung (hoshi) x fem!reader

note: loosely based on the filipino romcom crazy beautiful you . please rb ur thoughts and give a like if you've enjoyed this read , thank you !

you’re trudging along the dusty road, fuming under the late afternoon sun, the straps of your heels biting into your feet. this place feels like the embodiment of everything your mother knows you hate. dirt, roads that lead to nowhere, endless fields, and the smell of livestock. your punishment couldn’t be more humiliating.

but you’re done playing her game. the bag over your shoulder holds just enough cash and a charger for your phone. you’d figured out the bus schedule last night; all you needed was to sneak out unnoticed. no more dealing with nosy neighbours or the suffocating boredom of country living.

but of course, nothing goes as planned.

"hey, miss," a voice calls from somewhere behind you. instinctively, you clutch your bag tighter and quicken your pace. it’s not the friendly sort of tone you'd expect from a stranger.

then, as if out of nowhere, someone grabs your arm. panic shoots through you as you try to yank yourself free, but the man is faster, rougher. your bag is ripped from your shoulder, and your heart lurches as you realise you can’t overpower him.

"get off me!" you scream, but the road is deserted, the fields stretching endlessly on either side. the man runs off, your bag slung over his shoulder.

before you can decide whether to chase after him or collapse in despair, someone else appears, jogging towards you.

"what the hell was that?" you demand as soonyoung stops in front of you, hands on his hips like he’s just finished a casual morning run.

“relaaaaxx,” he says, eyeing you like you’re some kind of puzzle. “you alright?”

"do i look alright?" you snap, but your voice wavers. you hate that you sound scared.

soonyoung doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks in the direction the thief ran off. then, without warning, he bends down, sweeping you off your feet and hoisting you over his shoulder like you’re some kind of sack of rice.

"put me down!" you shriek, pounding at his back with your fists. he doesn’t even flinch, the muscles under his worn shirt taut as he starts walking down the road.

"you’re welcome," he says, smirking.

"welcome for what? you didn’t do anything!"

"you were about to pass out from panic. i’m saving you."

"by carrying me like this?!"

he chuckles, the sound low and infuriatingly casual. "you’d rather stay here alone? the thief might come back, you know."

you stop struggling for a moment, because damn it, he’s right.

he brings you to a small, slightly dingy motel on the edge of town. the sign flickers in and out, and the smell of damp wood hits you as soon as he sets you down in the doorway.

"you’ve got to be kidding me," you mutter, brushing yourself off.

"what? not five-star enough for you, princess?"

you glare at him. "why are you even helping me?"

“let’s just say i’m… invested in your journey,” he says with a smirk that sets your nerves on edge.

you fold your arms, not buying his vague answer. "and what’s that supposed to mean?"

"well," he starts, leaning casually against the doorframe, "it means i know you’re trying to run off back to the city. and i also know you’re not going anywhere now."

"how do you know that?" you demand, your voice rising.

he gives you a sheepish smile that somehow manages to infuriate you more. "because the guy who stole your bag is a friend of mine. and, uh, your mom hired us."

for a second, you think you’ve misheard him. "what ?"

"it was her idea. she wanted to scare you into staying put." he shrugs, like this is all perfectly reasonable.

you stare at him, mouth open. "you’re joking."

"not really," he says, looking annoyingly unbothered.

"so you’re in on this?"

he raises a hand in mock surrender. "hey, i’m just doing my job."

“your job ? ” you step closer, glaring up at him. "so you’re what? some kind of low class actor now?"

"general helper," he corrects, flashing you a grin. "i do odd jobs. sometimes legal, sometimes… less so."

you groan, dragging a hand down your face. "this is insane. my mother is insane."

"maybe," he says, his tone annoyingly light. "but she’s got good taste in collaborators."

you want to slap that smug look off his face, but you also can’t help noticing how sharp his jawline looks in the dim motel lighting. you shake the thought away.

"you’re lucky i don’t call the cops," you mutter, turning away.

"on who? your mom? " he teases, following you into the room.

“you’re infuriating,” you snap, spinning to face him.

"and you’re spoiled," he fires back, leaning in closer. his smirk is still there, but his voice drops an octave, taking on a flirtatious edge. "but i guess that’s why i took on such a strange yet fun request."

"fun?" you echo, eyes narrowing. "you think this is fun?"

he steps closer, close enough that you can see the gold flecks in his brown eyes. "admit it," he says, voice low. "you like the trouble."

you hate that your heart skips a beat at his tone, hate the way he’s looking at you like he knows exactly how to get under your skin.

"you’re delusional," you say, but it comes out weaker than you intend and you mentally slap yourself for it.

"hmm, maybe," he murmurs, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "but that's probably because you’re stuck with me now, buttercup."

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[l2vedive]

GUTS w. sim jaeyun & park jongseong

scream au + graphic description of violence, murder and mention of character deaths (923)

featuring: park chaeyoung (isa) from stayc, ning yizhuo (ningning) from aespa mentioned, lee heeseung from enhypen

pairing(s): jake sim x fem!reader, park jongseong x fem!reader

note: PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !!! in honour of spooky szn, here's something i came up with after a scream binge. might turn this into a series but lmk what u guys think by rbing and liking , enjoy !!!!

you stand there, surrounded by chaos and deception, as the truth becomes clearer and more sinister by the second. jay's unconscious form lies on the floor, a pool of blood forming around him. you can't help but glance at jake, his face twisted in pain and desperation.

"where have you been?" you demand, your voice trembling.

jake winces, clutching his bleeding side. "i got attacked. it was brutal— fuck! — it was so fucking bad, yn." he rambles.

with scepticism still gnawing at you, you hesitate to accept his explanation. the phone rings persistently, a deafening reminder of the danger closing in. jake's voice grows more urgent: "don't answer it. it's ningning, i'm telling you!"

but you can't ignore the ringing any longer. your curiosity gets the best of you, and you reach for the phone. just as you pick it up, the closet door flies open with a loud crash, and ghostface emerges, armed and menacing.

fear courses through your veins as you face the killer, and jake immediately steps forward to shield you. it turns into a frantic, deadly chase through the dimly lit room. ghostface lunges, and you dodge, narrowly avoiding the blade.

desperation surges within you, and you scramble for safety. jake spots the closet nearby, and in a heartbeat, you both rush inside, slamming the door shut. the confined space offers minimal refuge, but it's better than facing ghostface head-on.

darkness surrounds you both, and you're acutely aware of your pounding heartbeats. jake's hushed voice breaks the silence. "stay quiet; they won't find us here."

"oh my god, holy shit. fuck, jaeyun, i don't wanna die," your mind races as you try to make sense of the situation. the closet feels cramped, and you're pressed against each other, refusing to fall over and make a sound. in the tense silence, you suddenly feel something wet seeping through your clothes and a sharp, delayed sting.

your eyes widen in shock, and jake's chilling words cut through the darkness: "you really shouldn't trust anyone, princess."

instincts take over, and you push the closet door open, ready to bolt. but you collide with jay, who's bleeding even more now, his eyes fluttering open. a knocked-out ghostface lies just a few feet away, the horrifying truth of betrayal and deception becoming more twisted with every passing moment.

suddenly, jake's hand grips your shoulder tightly, and before you can react, he stabs you. " ah! " pain shoots through your body, and you gasp in shock and agony. weakness overwhelms you, and you slump against the closet door, struggling to breathe.

jake's voice, now devoid of any sympathy, echoes in your ears. "you really shouldn't have trusted anyone."

with trembling hands, he reaches for the light switch and flicks it on. the harsh, fluorescent light reveals the gruesome truth behind the door: chaeyoung's lifeless body lies there, a horrifying testament to the betrayal that has unfolded.

you're standing there, gasping for air, with pain coursing through your body as you clutch your wounds. jay, groggy and confused, finally stirs, his eyes widening as he takes in the bloodstains on your clothes.

"oh my god, are you okay? what happened?" jay's voice trembles with fear and concern.

your words tumble out incoherently as you point shakily to the closet door. " jaeyun. jake's the killer. jay, we need to leave. call the cops."

jay's hands fumble for his phone, shaking uncontrollably as he dials for help. panic fills the room, and you move to help him stand, your trust wavering. but just as you reach out, he stabs you again, the knife plunging into your side with a sickening twist.

pain courses through your body, and you gasp in shock, betrayed once more. your world spins, and you slump against jay, your heart heavy with disbelief and agony.

he takes out a small device, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "surprise, yn. bet you didn't see that one coming."

tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to comprehend the relentless betrayal. "jay, why ? " you manage to whisper, your voice filled with hurt.

but there's no remorse in his eyes. instead, he taunts you, "because i did, baby."

except jay doesn't finish that sentence. the other ghostface, the one who was knocked out earlier, begins to stand up from the floor, making his way towards the scene.

jay presses the knife against your throat, forcing you to watch as ghostface removes his mask, revealing heeseung, your boyfriend, whom you thought you had watched die.

your heart sinks as confusion, anger, and betrayal swirl within you. this nightmarish reality has blurred lines, leaving you grappling with a revelation that defies understanding.

the room definitely feels colder now, and the air is heavy with tension. heeseung, or rather, ghostface, fixes his gaze on you, his voice laced with a chilling calmness. "you thought you'd come out of this on top, baby? think again."

fear grips you as you realise that nothing is as it seems. the person you believed was dead is standing before you, wearing the mask of the very thing that haunted your nightmares.

jay, still holding you hostage with the knife to your throat, smirks. "we planned this all along, babe. a little lesson for you."

your mind races, trying to make sense of the deception. you thought you knew these people, trusted them with your life, and yet here you are, trapped in a web of lies and betrayal.

as heeseung advances, you're left with the sickening feeling that there's no escaping this nightmare.

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[l2vedive]

TAKE IT HOME w. sim jaeyun

f1 monaco gp 2024 inspired au + fluff (356)

pairing: sim jaeyun (jake) x fem!reader

note: felt inspired to come up with something after watching the race a few weeks ago :) // yang jungwon for mclaren mention <3

sim jaeyun, the rising star of ferrari's f1 team, is at his home race in australia, the grand prix buzzing with excitement. he's chasing yang jungwon of mclaren, just seconds ahead, vying for that coveted p1 position.

as jake zooms down the straight, his heart racing not just for the victory but for something more personal, he flicks on his radio. "team, patch yn through," he requests, his voice a mix of nerves and determination.

you, the girl he's been courting, listens in from the pits, her heart pounding with anticipation. when jake's voice comes through, you hold your breath, knowing this moment could change everything.

"hello, yn," jake's voice crackles through the headset, adrenaline fueling his words. "if i take this race home, will you officially be my girlfriend?"

your eyes widen, a smile spreading across your face as you nod enthusiastically, even though jaeyun can't see you. "yes, yes, of course!"

"copy that, love," jake replies, a grin tugging at his lips as he gears up for the final push.

the race intensifies as jake pushes his ferrari to its limits, closing in on jungwon with each turn. the crowd roars as they witness the battle for first place unfold, the tension palpable in the air.

jake's driving is a mix of precision and aggression, every move calculated to gain that extra edge. he dives into corners, accelerates out of chicanes, and overtakes with expert skill, all while keeping his eyes on the prize.

the laps fly by, and as the checkered flag looms closer, jake makes his move. with a daring maneuver, he slips past jungwon, claiming the lead with a surge of cheers from his team and fans.

crossing the finish line in first place, jake lets out a triumphant yell, his heart soaring not just for the victory on the track but for the new chapter in his personal life. as he pulls into the winner's circle, you rush to meet him, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

"i did it," jake exclaims, his eyes sparkling with joy as he embraces you. "we did it."

you laugh, your eyes shining with pride. "you were amazing out there. i'm so proud of you."

jake kisses your cheek, the taste of victory and newfound love mingling in the air. "this is just the beginning," he whispers, knowing that with you by his side there's nothing he can't achieve.

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[l2vedive]

CITY OF ANGELS w. lee heeseung

inspired by la la land + slight angst (511)

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

note: this is a part of an actual long fic i'm writing but i decided to post it as an individual oneshot and as an excuse to post smth LOL hope you enjoy !!! pls lmk by reblogging and liking ><

in the dynamic world of the korean music industry, you stand at the precipice of your solo debut as yn, surrounded by a whirlwind of nerves and anticipation. the practice room buzzes with energy as your team of managers and staff work tirelessly, preparing for the big day.

suddenly, the door swings open, and in strides heeseung—your first love, your first supporter, and the one who broke your heart four long years ago. his presence fills the room with a tumultuous mix of emotions, stirring up memories you thought you had buried deep.

heeseung, now a successful choreographer, has been assigned to mentor you for your debut. but he has no idea that you, yn, are the artist he's been tasked to work with. your management has kept your true identity hidden, adding another layer of complexity to your already tangled history.

after a brief introduction from your staff and managers, the room empties, leaving you and heeseung alone in a charged silence, the weight of your unresolved past hanging heavy between you like a thick fog.

"congratulations," you both start simultaneously, the words feeling heavy and laden with unspoken emotions. your eyes meet briefly and a laugh spills out. endearment. nostalgia. his laugh's melody was always your favourite song.

heeseung takes a hesitant step closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of recognition. "are you ready to start?" he asks, his voice strained with the weight of what remains unspoken between you.

you meet his gaze, your heart aching with the memories of what used to be. "always," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath.

and so, you dive into the dance practice, the music wrapping around you like a bittersweet melody. every movement, every touch, is laced with the ghost of your past—a past filled with laughter, tears, and the echoes of a love that was never meant to be.

as you dance, you can feel heeseung's eyes on you, his gaze lingering on the curve of your smile, the arch of your back. subtle touches and longing glances pass between you, speaking volumes of the words left unsaid.

in those fleeting moments, you both linger on what used to be, on the love that once burned bright between you. but as the music fades and the dance comes to an end, you're left with the harsh reality of the present—a reality where your paths have diverged, and your hearts remain forever entwined in the bittersweet melody of what could have been.

"i've missed this," heeseung admits softly, breaking the silence as he offers you a wistful smile.

you nod, your heart aching with the weight of his words. "me too," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper.

but amidst the ache of your past, there's a flicker of hope—a hope that maybe, just maybe, the music of your shared history will lead you to a new beginning. and as you exchange one final glance with heeseung, there's a silent agreement between you—a promise of what could be, if only you're brave enough to reach for it.

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[l2vedive]

EXILE w. hansol vernon chwe

spiderman hvc & angst (389)

pairing: vernon chwe x reader

note: making my svt writing debut and my comeback on this account ,, have this as a crumb n lmk if you liked it ty enjoy <3

in the heart of manhattan, spiderman swings gracefully through the city, his senses tingling with an impending danger he can't quite place. little did he know that his world was about to shatter.

perched atop a towering clock tower was you, who was precariously over the edge. fear and hope mingling in your eyes as you catch the sight of him approaching.

nightingale, the villain once known as minghao, an old high school friend, stands nearby, grinning wickedly. "hansol, my old buddy," he sneers. "you're right on time."

spiderman's heart pounds as he shoots his webs toward you, determined to save you. but fate has other plans. the webs misses their mark, and it doesn't even register in your head as your scream echoes through the night, voice fading into the abyss as you plummet to the harsh concrete.

"no!" spiderman's cry of despair pierces the air as he dives after you, but it's too late. your body had disappeared into the darkness, and your haunting scream slowly faded away.

nightingale laughs cruelly, relishing in spiderman's agony. "you've failed, hansol. just like you always do. you couldn't save me, couldn't save uncle ben and now you couldn't even save your precious yn."

spiderman lands heavily on the ground, tears streaming down his masked face as he mourns your loss. "hey bubble.. yn," he chokes out, his voice trembling with grief.

from the shadows below, your voice, weak and fading, reaches his ears. "spiderman.. hansol , i've always known it was you," with trembling fingers, you reach for his cheek. "..wish you had asked 'bout that movie."

hansol leans into your touch, tears staining with his mask as he whispers, "i should've.. god, i really should've."

you muster a weak smile, your strength waning. "i would've loved to go see that movie with you."

hansol's voice breaks as he responds, "i would've loved that too."

your smile fades as you close your eyes, your final breath leaving as the clock strikes midnight; almost like a taunting reminder for spiderman. in that moment, hansol leans down, pressing his masked lips gently against your forehead, a silent farewell filled with sorrow and regret. nightingale's laughter echoes in the distance, but all hansol could hear was the crushing weight of his failure and the memory of your smile fading in his last song.

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[l2vedive]

I LOVE YOU (SJY).

PAIRING: sim jaeyun/jake x fem!reader

GENRES: includes smut (minors dni), heavy angst, hurt no comfort, slowburn, one sided pining, fluff at the end, friends with benefits, classic communication issues trope, university au

WARNINGS: smut, profanity, making out, implied alcohol use, smoking, semi graphic descriptions of smut (fingering, thigh riding, handjobs, cunnilingus, slapping), one line for dirty talk, reader calls jake baby a lot, name calling (bitch and whore directed at someone), jake constantly gets played, made up female character, jake is hopelessly in love with reader (pls get up), reader is a walking red flag invented by park jaeeon, cheating if you squint, one sexual joke lol, other idols have guest appearances (yeonjun of txt, isa / chaeyoung of stayc, mentions karina of aespa), heeseung doesn't talk much i apologise 🙏🏻

SYNOPSIS: in which yn and jake are in a friends with benefits situation. sort of.

WORD COUNT: 9320 words.

PLAYLIST: here.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: aaaand it's finally here !!!! this was originally written for itzy which is still published on my ao3 acc , however , i decided to rewrite it for enhypen to get over my writer's block rhksjdjed . i hope you enjoy it regardless <33 the dialogue jake says in june is from richard siken's masterpiece "crush", which i suggest you read because it is a very good book. jake stans this one's for you !!! :DD

TAGLIST: @help-i-cant-find-a-username @cherrybxmbby @woozisnoots @fairyofhee @asyleums @cha0thicpisces @aliensrme @enhygene-phen @slut-4-jake​ @princesjy​ @axartia​​

i.

It's September when the papers on the desk slide down to the floorboards: the steel painted blue table is cold against your skin, almost burning you with intensity until Jake pulls you back up to his mouth by your hair, and has you pressed up on the wall just by his bedroom door. Jake's tongue smoothes over the fresh set of hickeys on the nape of your neck, your collarbone, your tits, and your chest bursts with fire with every touch and feel. It gets hotter when he hears the needy whines coming from you and, Oh my god, Jake thinks. I need to kiss her. I need to. Your jeans, that you never got to take off completely, are tangled by your feet and your thoughts stop when Jake slips another finger in, curling it just right.

"Fuck," You glance at the window over at Jake's shoulder, the light of your computer reflecting on the pane as the clock hits 12:00 AM.

"Hm?" Jake hums against you and it sends vibrations throughout your body, enough for him to hit the spot.

"Happy two years, pretty." Jake mumbles when he finally pulls away and puts his fingers in your mouth. The sight alone is enough for him to feel hot and bothered all over again as you suck off the boy's fingers. Jake smiles through his plump lips, smeared by your leftover lip gloss from when you kissed him earlier.

You hop on the beans of your toes as you get your jeans back up. Your bra's still hanging onto one shoulder and your shirt is nowhere to be found. The hickeys on your neck are still fresh and sore, forming hues of purple. Jake hands you his shirt instead. For you to wear and for you to take home to wear. (He sort of hopes you sleep in it too. Hopes you think of him before going to bed.).

You pop a cigarette in your mouth and he lights it up for you, leaning in close. His skin burns as the flame meets the hilt of his thumb and his heart sort of aches when you immediately soothe it with a kiss.

"Happy two years, Jaeyun," You say casually. "Do you have a wish this year?"

"None that I can think of," Jake replies. You watch, blowing smoke as he attempts to shrug a new set of clothes back on, running his hand through his disheveled hair. Out of habit, he moves to brush the strands of hair that might poke your eyes away before tucking it behind your ear delicately.

Jake loves you. Despite that this is always how it goes and not just everytime you celebrate your "friendship" anniversary.

Because with you this is always how it goes.

"Yeah, same," You say. Your eyes are dark and they're focused, playing into his. He knows. For as long as Jake has known you, you've always had one. And it is always a secret.

You always ask him first. So that when it's your turn to be asked, you can pretend. You can say no and end it there. Because that is always how it goes with you. You've got a habit of keeping skeletons in the closet even with your best friend.

But Jake isn't stupid. He always knows what you're up to. It's in the way of how you carry yourself after every fuck, how your eyes seem to lower and darken, how you don't fix up your hair neatly like you always do for school every morning, letting it fall just like that.

(He thinks you're setting up a metaphor for it. Like, you have this prim and perfect picture exterior to outsiders but when night falls, he gets the real you: unpredictable, messy, needy, full of want and unashamed to say it.).

Jake always knows.

He wonders if this is why you don't say anything. Jake wonders if this is why you always seem to hide from him, despite being friends since forever. He wonders why you look at him in ways he knows that would make him feel things, why you're picking up his shirt, helping him put it on, and giving him an open-mouthed kiss before walking out.

The bitter aftertaste settles on his tongue. "Please stay," Jake says. "I love you."

Instead, you hear it as, "Don't smoke and drive." 

ii.

It's October and Jake doesn't dress up for Halloween.

But you do, and you are undeniably hot in a skimpy impractical security officer uniform, with a devastating amount of cleavage that Jake wants his mouth on.

Jake had never really planned on going tonight, but he kind of had to, because all his friends were going and you were definitely going. He really wished he hadn't though. His friends are long gone, flirting with the other partygoers left and right, and by the time he has reached the bathroom to pee, he could hear obnoxious loud moans.

He is considering going home and slipping into his bed to watch a movie until you emerge from the crowd of people, looking pretty, hot and sexy as hell. Do not fucking look at her.

But it's no use because you're walking towards him with a devilish smirk tugging on your lips. "Hey, Jae," you say. "C'mere." You smell like fruit punch and alcohol and you're too close for Jake to be at ease.

You promptly push Jake onto the couch, plopping yourself onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, your legs on either side of Jake's. It's hot in the room all of a sudden and Jake's breath hitches in his throat.

You're in public. Where people could see you. You never do anything sexual in public.

"YN," Jake starts. "What are you doing?" His brow furrows, obviously confused.

"Shut up," Your breath is in Jake's ear and it's warm and tingly and enough for the hairs behind his neck to stand. For his cock to twitch in his jeans. Jake finds that his hands are gripping your ass.

Jake moves his head away to look around the room before looking back into your eyes. You have contact lenses on and he feels like falling into it. But he knows that by the time he has, when you approach him on campus tomorrow, you won't remember anything. It's blue and it's powerful and it's pulling him in. He thinks blue suits you. His favourite colour with his favourite girl.

Despite his hazy view of you on top, Jake is about to stop you and ask what you mean until you lace a fistful of his hair in your hands behind his neck and kiss him.

And even though you've kissed a lot, this was extremely different. For so many reasons.

For one, oh my god. You are on his lap, half-naked with your ass in his hands and your tits pressed up close, and Jake actually prays his boner doesn't build up a tent through his jeans. Second, you're in public. And third, you never had sex in public. At least not with him. But now he gets to feel the experience of doing so in your kiss. You are so good. You are so fucking good . Jake knows that you know what you're doing with every soft bite on his bottom lip, every flick and suck of your tongue dancing with his, every moan devoured by him.

He's not so bad himself and he knows it too. You taught him how.

You aren't finished when you start grinding your hips against him and Jake fights every bone in his body to move with you. "Fuck, YN," And it comes out as a hiss rather than a warning. You were too good . Too addicting .

It's even harder when he feels your hand fall back and in between you both, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, palming him through his boxers. "Come on, Jake," You say, but Jake feels like you're pushing him rather than asking. "Do you want this or not?"

So Jake lets you. For a second until he pulls away and is out of breath. His heart hammers inside of his chest and he's quick enough to get ahold of your hand, stopping you.

He moves to get up, pushing you off of his lap and embarrassingly, you stagger on your heels before falling on the couch. You don't say anything. And even though he's confused, you know he's pissed. You are too.

"I don't always want to fuck you, YN,"

"You're so boring," You say.

"And you're drunk," Jake replies, straightening his posture. Because when you got drunk, you were out like a mad woman. Between the two of you, he was the lightweight and that was actually how the two of you became friends; he was sure he could keep up with you the moment Heeseung had introduced the both of you to each other at his last house party, immediately taking an interest in you. Long story short, he liked you and you liked having him for company, and it just snowballed from there.

But for now, his mind is racing and his clothes suddenly feel tight on him—and no, it's not because of his boner—worse, his throat almost chokes up when he hears: "I'm sober." 

"I don't care," I do. I care so much. "I can't let you do this."

Suddenly, you get up, your faces in close proximity. Jake feels like it’s just the two of you in the room and if that were the case, he would've already screwed you all over the couch himself.

"You want to fuck me, Jake," You say lowly. Your face is stone cold and it almost feels like you're challenging him. (You are.). "I know you do."

Jake shakes his head. He looks at you and swallows. You almost allow yourself to break down all your walls for him with the way he's staring at you.

"Come on, Jaeyunie," You press, the cute tone hanging off the nickname you give him. "I know you want to." You giggle as you curl your finger around one of his belt loops, tugging him closer.

Your voice knocks him out of his windpipe and it's enough for him to know that he's failed from holding himself back. From getting mad at you.

"I do," Jake manages. "I love you, let's stop this. Let's go home."

But he says it like this: "No, I can’t do this tonight." And turns away, disappearing into the crowd.

iii.

It's November and it's raining.

You're all gathered around your living room, watching a horror movie that Jake knows he won't be paying attention to.

It's dark with all the lights off and it's creepier with the faint sounds of raindrops hitting the backyard's porch. There are only two sources of light, however. One from the television where Scream plays and another is from Jake's dimly lit side where you seemed to be texting under the blankets propped over the both of you.

It's quiet most of the time, except for the occasional bickering from Sunoo, who teases Jay for his reactions, and you look bored throughout the film. Jake is, too.

He is about to lean over and make a funny comment about the scene that was currently rolling on screen but he catches a glimpse of your screen and immediately, he feels guilty for looking. Because right there on your screen are messages between you and god knows who, and a picture of you almost topless.

And suddenly, you excuse yourself, phone in your hand before heading down the hallway to the bathroom. Jake doesn’t move, wondering if you knew he was looking. Instead, he waits and settles that you probably had an emergency to take care of.

It's been fifteen minutes and Jake grows worried. By now, almost everyone has fallen asleep and you still haven't gotten back from the bathroom.

Quietly, Jake tiptoes away from his position and instantly jogs down to the bathroom. It's silent and his heartbeat is loud in his ears; he's not sure why he's nervous. "YN?" He calls out. Nothing.

To his surprise, there's no one inside and the door is unlocked for her to look. It's empty and Jake swallows thickly. Once, twice and third is the hardest as he starts to panic. Where did you go?

Immediately, Jake heads upstairs to search for you in one of the rooms. He heads to yours first and it's locked. "YN?" He questions, knocking on the door. He can hear shuffling and movements, and Jake doesn't know what to think of.

"YN!" He raises his voice slightly, afraid not to wake the others up as he slams his hand against the door. No oxygen. No oxygen. It’s heavy, he's aching, his heart is a mess. Breathe, Jaeyun. Breathe . Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Breathe, Jaeyun. Fucking breathe.

The door swings open and he sees you half-naked in bed. In front of you, is Heeseung shuffling to get his pants up. Jake's eyes dart back and forth and the older boy slides behind him.

You say nothing at all as you sit up and put your hoodie back on.

"Hey, man," Heeseung says, but it comes out as a question. "I actually have to be somewhere else right now. See you, Jake." He's gone before Jake could reply.

Frozen, Jake doesn't say anything. It takes him a moment to process what just happened.

"I—," He starts. There is so much that he wants to say but nothing comes up. He feels dizzy almost and his nail beds are bloodied from piercing them into his skin. He releases when he feels your lips on his.

Your lips are soft and it's sweet, and it's nothing he's used to. He's so confused, god, you were so confusing. "I'm sorry," Jake blurts out, because nevertheless, he still loves you. So much.

"Don't be sorry, baby," You say fondly. "You got me." But I don't , Jake thinks . I don't get you. I can never have you.

His eyes are closed when he allows you to kiss him. To touch him so softly and whisper sweet nothings that he knows he'll never stop thinking about when he pictures your hand as his own when he gets himself off at night.

Jake knows that his friendship with you is unusual. You both know it. You turn up every day if you can, allow him to finger you until you're crying and writhing your hips, let him use your mouth on his cock in return until his entire body is rattling with aftershocks by the time he comes. You seem to get whatever you seem to want from him, and stupidly so, Jake allows you.

He loves you. And you hate him. He knows you do.

Jake breathes hard, and he's kind of embarrassed by how easy it is of him to completely melt under your touch. How easy it is for him to get turned on until he gets so primal, lust clouding his head and pulsing his veins. He suddenly realises your positions have switched as his back hits the duvet and he's tangling his hands into your hair, hands brushing down to tilt your chin and have you look at him in the eyes.

You giggle and teasingly untie the laces of his sweatpants, brushing your fingers softly near the areas Jake wants your hand to touch and more, trailing a teasing path that only makes him needier and harder than he already is. Your hand travels down his abdomen, carefully advancing its way into his boxers as you begin to pump his cock. Hot and spilling with pre-cum in the middle of his hips.

"Please kiss me again," He chokes out. "Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like you love me, even if it's just for tonight."

You hear it as: "Fuck, YN. Keep going, please."

It's chaos .

iv.

It's December and you have a boyfriend. And it's every December, every year that you have a boyfriend.

Jake is trying to busy himself with the nape of your neck and the way he breathes fans in your hair like he's tired. He is so tired.

You recognise it and kiss him more intensely, shoving him against the car window. Jake feels it and draws back, the taste of your cherry flavoured lip gloss lingering in his mouth, weighted on his tongue like a stray "I love you" caught between his teeth. You attempt to get Jake back into your hold, your hand sneaking underneath his hoodie, but Jake opens his eyes.

"Come on, Jaeyunie, we only have tonight."

"I don't want to do this anymore." Jake says.

You constantly keep the air conditioner on full throttle and never care about anybody else, except when you take what you want from them, and Jake is so fucking sick of it. You are self-centred and a cunt, and it takes it all out of him to not push you away again when you come leaning forwards, kissing him everywhere and pulling his hoodie up. Selfish, insistent, oblivious, insensitive.

"Can you stop?" Jake says, scooting back to the seat. "I'm so tired of this."

The car engine revs up and the lights flash for a second, igniting color into the dark neighbourhood. You hesitantly step on the gas pedal. "What's wrong, Jake?"

"I'm right here, always," Jake says. "I'm right fucking here, in front of you, next to you, and yet you don't see it. You never think of anyone else, YN. It's always about you."

You drum your fingers against the steering wheel and switch on your turn signal. There's another cigarette hanging on your lips. You drive down the lane and into the main road. You're going to drive in circles and it's a perfectly sick metaphor. (Another one to add in Jake's book.).

When the green lights come on, you pull slowly with the brakes and come to a dead stop at the yellow lights, constantly waiting for the red lights and stop signs so you can reach over the armrest and kiss him again.

"You know that's not true, baby."

"Stop that," Jake reprimands. "You know it is."

You take a drag and exhale out the smoke, not bothering to roll down the windows. You glance behind him in the street among the smoke and briskly pull over. "What the fuck is your problem today?" you ask, turning to him.

"Forget about it." Jake says. His skin stings where you've bruised him with your teeth. Where you've touched him. Where he pretends to say it hurts when he's screwing other girls so they won't touch him there. Won't touch him where you've marked him. He feels sick.

"Do you want to talk or are you going to leave?" You shuffle, rolling down the window and throwing out your cigarette. You're angry, Jake can see it.

"Do you have feelings for him?" Jake finally says. His voice embarrassingly breaks in reaction to the question, making him want to leave, walk away, throw up, and cry. You've barely made it back to the block.

You sigh, running your fingers through your hair. "Fucking hell."

"Just answer the question, YN." Jake replies.

"Of course, he's my boyfriend. You're my friend."

"Yeah, no shit, I am!" Jake says a little too loudly, sitting up and staring up at the mirror he's pulled down earlier. He's laughing and it's sour when he says: "God, you weren't kidding when you said you had an amazing sense of humour, were you?"

"Get out." You say. Your voice is so low Jake doesn't recognise you.

Jake pales and he's as white as your knuckles, grip tight on the steering wheel. "What?"

"You heard me, Jake. Get out of my car."

Jake reaches over for a kiss, trying to get you to kiss him again and forget about it. Trying to get you to fuck him over, and all over just like how he does when he fucks you until you both can’t think of anything other than each other's names.

You nod your head. "I gave you two choices. You chose this."

"No, I chose you," Jake seethes, suddenly angry. "I always, always fucking choose you."

"It's not like I asked you to." You snap, closing your eyes. You're too defeated, too tired of Jake's antics.

Heartbeat ringing in his ears, Jake falls back down on his seat. "You're unbelievable," He says. "I can't believe you."

You say nothing at all. It's quiet and it's too long until you turn the car off.

Jake stares at the road ahead of you. "I love you, I didn't mean it," he says.

He says it in this way: he puts his hoodie back on, pulls on the lock and pushes the door open, he gets out and slams it closed.

He cries the whole walk home.

&

It's still December when you're sprawled all over Chaeyoung's bed, watching the other girl type away her essay due upside down.

"You know, YN, someone called me baby the other day,"

You hum in response. "Yeah?" You ask, sitting up and lying on her stomach. "Who was it?"

"Some boy I kissed at Jimin-unnie's Christmas party."

The Christmas party in question is nothing special, just a gathering of friends at Yoo Jimin's place, at least that's what you remember Jake telling you over the phone. Jimin's Christmas parties were a hit and you knew how crazy it usually went. Her Halloween party that you attended last month too (the same one where you and Jake had a confrontation, the one that you remember, the one that always replays at the back of your head), proved how truly popular the girl was. 

Parties were usually your setting. You hung out with most of the popular crowds for this reason. You liked going out, dressing up and having the adrenaline rush kick in your body's system as the loud music booms in your ears and colourful lights wash over you and a bunch of other dancing bodies. You lied to Jake on the phone, laying out those reasons for your shitty excuse not to go. Besides, you weren't really interested in partying and dancing after what happened that night with him. You learn from Sunoo the next day that Jake didn't go either.

"Well," You start. "Jake calls me baby too." You say it like it's nothing and Chaeyoung immediately turns around.

Chaeyoung looks like she's choking down a laugh until she realises you're not following it up with something else. "Like, as a joke right?"

You stop drawing invisible stars on the girl's bed sheets, delaying a response. "Jake calls me baby. Only he calls me that," Your voice lowers down to a whisper, so fragile that it breaks. (A crack in the walls.). "I do too. When we're fucking around."

Chaeyoung blinks at you. "But you're his friend."

"I am. We're friends," You reply, sighing. "I know that."

"Well, if one of you likes the other—I'm assuming it's the both of you , by the way," Chaeyoung hesitates with the way you're blatantly staring at her. "Why won't either of you say anything about it?"

"Because I can't do that. We're strictly friends. You know me, Chae, I can't just change what we have. It's a bit more complicated than that." You're frustrated and you know you have no right to be for the way you've treated him. For the way you're still  treating him. It's not complicated, you think. He's a teenage boy and you're a girl. 

You're LN YN.

You always had things figured out.

Girls are always supposed to have the upperhand with these kinds of things. You learned this the hard way when Chaeyoung had called you during graduation night in high school when she had let her guard down and had a boy shatter her. You’ve always been protective of her; the same kind of energy had channelled into the way you’ve had your situationships, never spilling more than you let on.

You sit in silence for a few more seconds and Chaeyoung clears her throat, saying she has to get back to her work. Before you allow her to continue, you say: "I'll say it. I'll tell him I love him too."

You pronounce it as, "I'll be off. Good luck on your assignment, take a break when you can." before getting your stuff, heading out the door and downstairs, and finally leaving.

v.

It's January when Jake opens the front door and sees that you're parked on his driveway, leaning against your car. You both stay a good ten feet away from each other until you say: "Happy New Year, baby."

And Jake smiles, falling in love all over again, feeling ecstatic with the sudden rush of euphoria in his body. It's the summer-like smile, warm and nice, that shows you're being sincere. You walk over to him and tug him down by balling his white shirt into your fist, kissing him and smiling.

"YN," Jake says. There's an edge in his voice that makes him feel unsure, despite wanting you then and there. "People can see us. We're in public."

The smile on your face widens and it makes Jake's heart hurt. God, she is so beautiful. 

"Let them see. I don't care." You kiss and kiss, Jake pulling firmly on your shirt (his shirt) until you push yourself onto him and he walks you backwards into the house. Jake manages to kick the door shut with his shoe, mouth still on you as he drives you to the edge.

"Jake," You say as he runs his hands up your back, clutching you close to his chest. His heart. His face, pressed into the comforting skin between your neck and collarbone.

"Yeah," He says, more like a sigh.

You don't remember what you were going to say. " Shit , Jake, I—,”

Jake has his thigh locked in between your legs, pressing onto your core. The scene between you two is prodded perfectly against his warm skin. You can't think. You can't think at all.

Jake feels you grinding your hips up and down, rubbing your clothed cunt excruciatingly slow on his thigh and right over his crotch which earns him a mewl from you. Your eyes are closed, and your fingers have found its way under his shirt, nails clawing into his back.

"Jesus Christ, YN ."

Your eyes flutter slowly, and you see Jake appearing more flustered than you've previously seen him. His eyes are filled with astounding desire. "Shut up and kiss me," You say.

And because Jake loves you, he does. Over and over and over again.

vi.

It’s February and there are roses and pink balloons everywhere. It's Valentines' Day.

There are couples kissing and holding hands in the hallway and all Jake can do is lean by his locker and watch. But not in a creepy, stalkerish way, in a way that he sort of pictures you and him like that, and pretend that you both could be like normal people and have a normal relationship.

He's about to turn away when he sees you. You, hand in hand, with your boyfriend, Lee Heeseung. His best friend.

You walk right past him, not batting an eye at him; not even a smile. Because this is always how it goes. It's always like this with you.

You were expressionless yet Jake could see right through the façade, and he knows that the reason why you never look at him is because the moment you do, you lose. 

Jake prays to his lucky stars that you do. Because he loves you. God , does he love you. He always will.

&

It's still February. It's raining again.

You're over. 

You've been over a lot recently, every other day, every Friday. Not to fuck though, which Jake finds weird. Usually, you only ever come over to: A) Fuck each other's brains out and have him fuck you until you're sore in all places, and B) Make him cry; whether the context is him hopelessly trying to get you to fall for him or to abruptly leave to "have to be somewhere else", knowing you say it like that to try and not to hurt his feelings. Jake never knows. You only ever come over for your sexual arrangements and nothing more.

He prompts himself to think nothing of it, taking it as a good, little surprise for himself, and asks you if you wanted to do anything specific. 

"It's your house," You say casually, sliding your phone into your back pocket. "Do you wanna do anything tonight?"

Jake stares at you, reading your face and looks for any signs that show disinterest. You smile, warm and tingly that it's fuzzy in Jake's stomach, as if to let him know that you'll stay regardless.

Another surprise: you make an effort and allow him to make an offer without implying a second.

Jake declares tonight is different and asks you if you want to watch a movie, to which you respond "yes" before suggesting that you head to Jake's bedroom once the movie ends.

So tonight is different, indeed. Tonight he has you cuddled up to one of his plushies on the couch with five metres to spare as Patch Adams plays on the screen. You're not touching, in any way, because you intricately hold yourself off from Jake unless it's in a state of undress, positioning your bodies so that non-sexual contact is non-existent.

It hurts only a little.

You both are friends but that is never how it is between you and him. Truthfully, it hurts.

Halfway through the movie, you have fallen asleep while Jake stays awake to finish as he watches Patch graduate to receive his Doctor of Medicine and bow to his professors and the audience. Occasionally, his eyes dart over to you, whose breathing is quiet and beautiful as your chest rises and falls with your hair sprawled messily on the pillows.

He wants to reach out, hold your hand, touch you, and fit into the perfectly good space between the two of you and lay his head on your shoulder, because, logically speaking, you have had your tongue on his dick and Jake has reciprocated with his on the apex of your clit, and you've seen each other naked countless of times, and all of your fingers have mapped out the pleasures of the others' genitals, but it doesn't work that way.

Jake knows it. For a long time, since the day he has agreed to this illicit affair that you have proposed, he has.

But you're right there, asleep next to him, and the love bite on your collarbone isn't from him, so there’s no point in keeping score.

Jake falls asleep a little later, the words, "Please love me like I do with you," on his lips.

In the morning, it comes off as him cooking breakfast for the two of them and you walking up to him to give him a kiss. You both know where this is going and he lets it happen.

vii.

It's March, and you're over again.

Mostly for good things.

You sometimes do homework together, cook dinner and breakfast together, depending if you stay over, watch Netflix when there's nothing tolerable on the television, and talk about other things that aren't about asking if the other could cum or not.

Jake isn't used to this, but it is something he could get used to. A few weeks ago and years before that, there were rules, obvious rules that you had laid out right from the start.

You still have sex. Just not all the time. It's every Friday that you plan out all the things for you to do other than sex. It's every Friday that you're over at Jake's house to do couple-y stuff and it makes Jake laugh. She has a boyfriend , he reminds himself. You're just a friend. His feelings don't matter to you.

Sometimes Jake wonders if you only ever see him as somebody to screw, nothing more than a fuckbuddy , telling him you're friends just to keep him around. He's not delusional, of course. He could be if he wanted to, or tried, but he also knows that you can't love him like he does and that's okay.

So right now, you're sitting by the kitchen counter, working on some English assignment. There isn't a lot of work going on, to be honest. You've been playing footsie under the table for the past hour, smiling until your cheeks are rosy and until eye smiles have come out of hiding.

It stops when Jake's phone vibrates to the tune of his ringtone, the default iPhone melody; it's distracting and he has no choice but to take it.

"Hello?" He asks into the phone.

You watch as Jake goes from unsure, nail biting, eyes darting to you for approval of some sort, and finally away to lips parted slightly, blush cheeks and bright smiles.

"I guess, I'll see you then." Jake says, tapping his nails on his textbook. He lets out a laugh before ending.

You don't skip a beat. "Who was that?"

"Jiyoon from—, "

"Dance? Yeah, I know her. She’s a bitch."

"She's pretty chill." Jake replies, eyes squinting as he fixates on the polaroid taped on the wall above his desk.

"Is she really?" You say. You haven't looked away, not once, and it makes Jake slightly nervous.

"Well, how do you know she's a bitch?" Jake quips. "She's actually nice, you know. She hugs me whenever she says hi."

You snort. "That's because she likes you, Jake. Like, romantically."

"What is going on with you?" Jake gets straight to the point. Whether you know it or not, he did notice all the staring from when he was on the phone. It's sort of pissing him off that you're getting so hostile about it when you literally have a boyfriend of your own.

"You're going to her stupid party then, aren't you?" You ask. By now, you've turned your chair to the side, your leg crossing over the other and closing your notes to talk.

"She invited me, of course,"

"And how do you know her?"

Jake laughs. He laughs because you're being ridiculous. He feels like he's sitting for interrogation by his older brother after he caught him coming back home at the dead of night at 3 am once.

"She lives on the next block, YN. We were friends in high school. She's nice to me and she's a good person." Jake shifts in his seat to return to his assignment, hoping you would drop it.

But you aren't finished. Jake can feel you burning holes in your head and the intense clicking from your pen is slowly getting to him. 

You're asking too many questions: "Have you seen her?" , "Don't you know that she almost broke my leg during practice because she wanted the center position?" , "Do you really want to go?" Shut up. Shut up. Shut up . Each of them, and he knows you're only doing it to get to him.

And finally: "Are you going with her because you want to know what else she's good at, Jake?"

"Can't you just," Jake harshly slides his chair back, the steel leg screeches against the tiles of his marble floor. "Can't you just leave it alone?"

When he looks up, you're sitting up with your thighs pressed together, hands by your sides as you lean forwards inquisitively. Eyes mirroring each other, Jake stares you down.

"Don't fucking do this to me, YN," His hand curls into a fist, the corner of the notebook page crumpled under his touch. "You've got a boyfriend, don't you? Stop putting your nose in my business."

"It's my business too," You stand, towering over him, your palm flat on the surface of the table while the other rests on the arm of his chair. Your faces, just a few inches away. You breathe hard, your hand curls into a tight fist to keep you from losing it. The paper almost tears apart just by the way you've scrunched it.

(Your walls begin to crumble.).

You can feel Jake's heavy breaths, chest heaving at you, and your heart picks up its pace when his eyes fall on your lips.

"Baby," You start. You can hear his heartbeat racing. Your cells are going insane, screaming at you to kiss him. To touch him. To tell him. But you can’t do that; not when you've already done enough damage to ruin each other. Done enough to ruin him. "Jaeyun. Jake."

"I love you." Jake finally says, his voice barely above whisper.

To you, you hear it as: "We're done studying tonight. Go home, YN." So you do.

He breaks a few minutes later after you leave, locked in his bedroom, crying into his pillows.

viii.

It's April and it's the party.

Jake regrets going.

He's with Jiyoon, who hasn't gone a single minute without trying to impress him. It's nice and he appreciates it, but she’s trying so hard that it's almost embarrassing. But whatever, it's fun. Her party is fun and he tries to forget about her constantly acting cute to enjoy himself. He isn't trying to be an asshole but he always found it uncomfortable when girls around him do not understand the concept of boundaries, which is kind of hypocritical of him to think about because there is absolutely none of that when it comes to the both of you.

It doesn’t really bother him that she's sort of stiff with her dancing, but the music is good and easy to settle in a groove, so he lets her guide him to the makeshift dance floor where he thinks he can see you pressing up to Heeseung and tries not to look your way, trying not to get his heart broken again.

It doesn’t bother him.

He ends up indulging in five more cups of pineapple mimosas and a last minute glass of vodka to top everything all off, because why not?

And he's on the dance floor with Jiyoon, guiding her hips to some new pop song that's currently blaring on the speakers, his hand resting on the small of her back, feeling every movement at once. It makes sense. It's a party and she's enjoying herself. They both are.

What doesn't make sense is how you and your boyfriend have moved a few inches closer to him, dark eyes analysing every movement. Jake knows you're doing this to rile him up, and it's working enough for him to piss you off too. 

You're annoyed.

You wanted nothing more than to yank that bitch off of him and be the one who's dancing with him. But you know you can't so instead, you bring your hand up to the back of Heeseung's neck, and it's like he knows what you're trying to do when he presses his lips to your jawline and starts kissing, sucking and biting, travelling lower to the base of your neck. You can feel him smirk when a moan escapes your mouth. You've noticed Jiyoon has turned to your direction to see why Jake seems to be distracted. You fight back a taunting smile.

Heeseung's hand snakes around your waist before resting it on the small of your back, pressing your bodies together which immediately makes you grind your hips against him as you burn your gaze into Jake's. It feels good, you won't lie.

He tears away when Jiyoon turns away from you, flustered, leaving you triumphant. Good . 

The next time you look back at them, Jake is no longer to be found. Instead, Jiyoon has found someone else to dance with, and probably take back to her room. Called it .

You're not drunk. Not even close. You haven't had anything since you arrived, agreeing with Chaeyoung, who dragged you here in the first place, that the alcohol was cheap shit.

It's a few minutes later (minutes, not moments. You're not pretentious.) when you feel a hand on your wrist, dragging you away from Heeseung, not bothering to excuse you. You get into the first room Jake decides.

"Clothes off, now."

You rebuff. "I was busy with my boyfriend,"

"I don't give a shit," His voice sounds deeper than usual and you wonder if it's because you've actually managed to make him mad.

Jake ignores you and shuts the door behind you, pushing you against the wall and touching you everywhere while leaving open mouthed kisses by your jawline.

"You say we're friends and yet you pull up some bullshit stunt every chance you think is good for you." He says in between.

"Good for me, good for you, same thing," He doesn't even meet your eyes, looking everywhere as he pulls the back strings of your top, letting it fall to the ground.

"Did you want her to be me tonight?"

He still doesn't look at you as he gets on his knees and pulls your shorts down. "No."

You roll your eyes against your will as Jake sucks on your clit without warning, your hand immediately tugging on the boy's hair, having his face nuzzle closer.

"Don't lie to me—fuck—You and I both know why we're constantly in the same place," A moan slips out, and you can feel the ghost of the boy's smirk on you. You don't say anything else, too out of it to tell him to stop. 

You don't have to tell Jake because he knows. Jake knows your body more than anything. Knows your games and the way your mind works.

Jake doesn’t respond and does exactly what he never thought of doing. He adjusts his position, swings your leg over his shoulder, and raises his hand enough to collide with your cunt, where the pain immediately warms up to your pleasure. The slap resonates within the room and it earns him a gasp.

"Watch your mouth, baby," You writhe against the firm grip that Jake has on your hips. "You don't want everything to be ruined now, do you? That's what you always say to me."

"What kind of game are you playing?"

Jake doesn't reply and dives back in between your legs, this time much rougher than earlier, sucking on your clit while his only other thought was how the girl who asked him to come must be trying to look for him now, and he knows exactly how long it will take her to search every room until she finds her own and sees you completely at his mercy. This was the kind of game he knew you would play if your places were switched, if he had a girlfriend that wasn't you.

"I always want to fuck you, Jake. If that's what's getting you worked up. And I have been for two years," You manage as you feel him insert two digits inside you. "What else would you want?"

Jake can tell he's got you all to himself by the way you gasp to fight back another moan that's threatening to spill from your lips, by the way you sink your chipped manicures into his scalp as he draws whimpers and whines out of you, never stopping as he leads you to your orgasm.

Your voice mocks him. Teasing, challenging, driving him insane. "You. I love you," Jake lets out.

You hear it as, "Let's put that pretty mouth of yours to good use. Get on your knees, baby."

ix.

It's May.

You don't have a boyfriend.

Jake only knows this upon eavesdropping on your conversation with one of your previous special friends , Choi Yeonjun. The guy's rash, definitely more of your speed, and much cooler than him if he wants to be honest. He doesn't know the full story, sort of just finds out about it by himself, but basically, you two have hooked up for a few months, until Yeonjun realised he was falling for someone and broke off the affair. And five months later, Jake had just moved into town.

A cute story, he guesses, or whatever. But it makes Jake feel twisted, remembering that you've been with other guys, have called other guys baby , and have kissed them where you've kissed him. It's practically the same with everyone.

He wonders, though. Wonders if he's the first guy you have managed to keep around. Wonders if you fuck anyone else behind his back, other than your boyfriend. Wonders if you have ever had a boyfriend during your affairs with other people, or if you were just plainly into fucking him over specifically.

But he's right behind the school building, supposedly here to pick you up, the pungent smell of smoke gravitating under his nose and whirls of curses means that you have company.

The crackle of the cancer stick is faint but it doesn't drown your husky tone when you say: "Shit's stressful."

Yeonjun snorts, backing against his shiny motorcycle. "Trouble in paradise, lover girl?"

"Now, why say it like that. You make me gag."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Whatever," You stand before the flagpole, left hand tucked away in your (Jake's) denim jacket's pocket, dominant hand flicking ashes onto the ground. "But yeah, there's something of the sort."

Yeonjun's eyes sparkle with obvious mischief. "Do tell, LN YN."

You roll your eyes. "Broke up with him. Found out some whore was leeching off of him. Felt like the right thing to do."

Jake doesn't mean to intrude, and he hadn't meant to stay either. He didn't know you broke up with Heeseung, but then again you never really tell him about anything related to that. He hasn't spoken to the older boy in weeks either. But he hears his name in between and now he's all too interested to hear what you have to say about him when he isn't around.

"Wait, what?" Yeonjun interrupts. "I thought you were going to tell me about Jake."

"What about Jaeyun?"

"So we're on a first-personal-name basis with the secret lover now? You weren't like this with me, YN," All out of it, Yeonjun stomps the cigarette with his boot, aggressively digging its grave.

"Oh, shut up," You laugh incredulously. "Where did you even get that idea from?"

"You're so," Yeonjun trails off. "Here's a little bit of spice—do you like him or something? Is the LN YN finally retiring from her cock parade?"

You scoff. "Idiot."

Yeojun ignores your comment. "Do you?"

You don't answer. The ego lies in your throat like the suspense of a bullet in Russian roulette, steadily pulling the trigger. Jake breathes, never letting go.

Say it. 

Then it strikes him sharply, tearing the barriers of his heart apart. "I don't. He's just someone."

Yeonjun stares, his pierced eyebrow raised. "A friend?"

Of course.  

"No," You say quickly. "I mean, yes. But no."

"You're whistling in the wind here. What is he to you exactly?"

You sigh exasperatedly. Jake doesn’t get why you have to ponder on it so much. You usually just say you're friends and move on.

"He's a friend that I fuck whenever I feel like it,"

"Meaning," Yeonjun is looking at you like you have all the answers to solve every problem there is in the world, waiting for you to unfold them. 

"Friends with benefits, are you slow?"

"Fuck off." 

You shrug, toying with the grey lighter in your hands, lighting it every fifteen (Yes, fifteen. It's been your favourite number recently.) seconds and burning its flame into the rusting steel behind you.

"YN," Yeonjun starts again.

"What," You look up at him, clearly done with the topic.

"Reality check right now," Yeonjun pressed. "You have feelings for him and you have no idea how to tell him, so you keep stringing him around at a distance enough for you to control it."

You take a puff, taking in the kill. "Don't be delusional." You exhale.

"Delusional because I'm right, aren't I?"

"Just drop it already." You snap.

Yeonjun raises his hands defensively, nodding his head as if to say he's letting the topic go. It's quiet again.

Jake tries to figure out if you've been quiet like this before, stuck driving in circles and telling people to get out of your car, sending them home crying. Or if he had been the first for everything. Maybe this whole time he'd been the one complicating things.

You seem to put yourself in similar situations, Jake notes. 

Jake decides he's heard enough. It's enough and it's all he ever hears anyway. He's a friend . You're friends. This is always how it goes with you, despite everything.

You with your dumb (pretty) hair colour, cold dark eyes, rocking your (his) dumb signature denim jacket with your dumb cherry flavoured lipgloss that makes him weak, you who parades around town with guys fawning over you, you who gives them little to no attention at all, and you who picks one of the lucky ones to be your conquests before screwing them over.

You are selfish and you never try.

x.

Jake chases down with your hair flowing against his cheeks to kiss away what dried wetness remains, and eventually crashes alongside you after you get off of him, breathless.

It's June.

The euphoria, however, is short-lived, and you eventually stand and rush awkwardly to pick up your clothes, and get dressed. “You wanted me to go rougher than usual, are you okay?” Jake calls. He knows, he knows that you know. He hopes at least.

“Everything's great,” You say, shimmying into your shorts. “I need to get home, though. It's my turn to cook tonight. My dad isn't home again.”

Jake reaches for a kiss and you don't pull away. He keeps on kissing you, his wet mouth chasing the corner of where your lips would flick upwards into a smile that he's fallen for.

Jake pulls away frowning, sliding your bra strap up your shoulder, and helping you put on your (his) hoodie. He says, "I love you, I'm sorry. He wasn't worth it. I'm sorry that you had to take the things you love and tear them apart, or pin them down with your body and pretend that they're yours forever."

And you haven't moved, you're frozen, and Jake's kissed you, and he knows you'll never forgive him for showing you such vulnerability, for getting past all your thorns, and maybe now, you will leave him alone.

To everyone else, most importantly to you, it comes out as, "Good night, YN. Get home safe."

xi.

It's July, and Jake kisses Jiyoon for the first time. 

It's unplanned, really. He hadn't meant to but it was a spur in the moment with the picture of your smile and mischievous dark eyes in his head. He's always thinking of you. 

But you haven't called or texted since that night and he's scared he might've done so much.

He does, however, kiss her. It happens because things are easy with Jiyoon. It's easy to laugh. It's easy to be happy. It took him a long time to get there, but he tried, tried, and tried.

So, to cut a long tale short, he wants to forget the fact that he messed it up with you and decides that this girl sitting next to him would be the perfect person to start over with.

Jake promises himself that it will be simple, uncomplicated. Everything is simple with Jiyoon. He's nervous (not because he likes her—he doesn't—at least, not like that. Which he feels guilty about since he started seeing similarities with you but whatever.). When she turns to him, he's drumming up the courage to reach over the seat and kiss her (like he would with you.).

"Hey, what's wrong?" Jiyoon ponders, her fingers sluggishly tapping the steering wheel, her brows pinched together in worry. Her eyes are dark, alluring, familiar, Jake thinks. Just pretend they're YN's and fucking kiss her, you idiot.

Jake moves in a little closer, trying to latch onto the belief that he can see those familiar hues in Jiyoon's eyes. He licks his lips, recalls the moments with you, and inhales slowly.

"Jake?" Jiyoon asks, perplexed and befuddled, as Jake places his hand on the head of her seat and moves perilously close. "What are you doing?"

And it's there. He takes control with a forced smile pressed against her mouth, snaking his hand around her neck and pulling her close. 

Her eyes are closed when he flutters his open and he sees it. Out through the foggy window, he sees you. Your figure fades away when Jiyoon pulls away, and he realises he's stopped kissing her.

"You're a good kisser, Jake."

He pulls away with regret, reality hitting him, and feeling his skin flush. "I'm sorry, I can't—,"

Jake wishes he could go back in time and undo the previous twenty seconds of his life the minute his heart leaps into his throat and he sees the comfortable colour of blue.

"This was a mistake, I'm sorry."

He grabs his phone on the dashboard, unlocks the door, gets out and heads home.

xii.

It's August.

It's dark out, and Jake is in your room.

You called him over.

There's fire in just the right places, in your touch cautious on his ribcage, in your mouth asking sweetly on Jake's, in the tepid cooling fins from the vents, turned to just the right power.

You don't have sex with him. Jake softly kisses you on the mouth. It's not your birthday. It's the month you and him met at Heeseung's party. It's not even an occasion to be celebrated. (Unless, you're fucking cheesy then sure.). It's not what people do unless they're in a relationship, but with you, he's found that there are a lot of things a person could do with no strings attached.

You take a step back, partially to catch your breath and half to check the time. The digits are slightly obscured by Jake's fluffy head of hair, but they're still: 12:17 AM.

"It's that night," Jake whispers.

You kiss Jake's cheek, jaw, and bottom lip with your lip glossed, kiss-mouthed smile.  "Yeah, it is." You untangle yourself from Jake carefully, as if you have all the time in the world.

You have a lot of things. A lot of secrets, unsaid promises, sacred thoughts he knew that could kill you inside. Jake thinks about this a lot.

"Do you think we still would've met if it weren't for that party?" You wonder aloud, sliding under your covers.

Jake leans his cheek against the head of the bed, cold steel scarring his skin, face turning to you. He's in deep thought as he drums his fingers on the grey pillows.

"Maybe," He finally makes up his mind, a goofy smile on his face. "I actually have a secret."

"Sounds interesting." You say, smiling. You move to your nightstand to tug on the switch of your night lamp open awkwardly as the last street light outside your window goes off, so as to not pull your left hand away from Jake.

"Leaving me again? This is your house, you know." He jokes.

"Shut up. I need the light," You curl back into the position you were in a few minutes prior, sliding under the duvet next to the boy. "I can't see your face."

Jake chews his lower lip and suppresses a grin. Adoration. It's crystal clear from him.

"Would you want me to know?" You ask. Jake's heart pounds, the last summer rain falls, you soothe him with circles from your thumb.

"I think so," Jake says. You kiss him on the mouth, pure and warm, encouraging him.

And Jake loves you. Nevertheless, since, until.

"I love you." Jake says.

You smile.

It doesn't sound like anything else.

please like and reblog with feedback !!!

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere !!

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[l2vedive]

LIGHT-YEARS (399).

lee heeseung x reader , established relationship , long distance

you had hair all over your face as your pillows laid atop your head, somewhat shielding you from the brightness of your phone screen that cast shadows on your face. the comforter tightly hugging your figure while remaining breezy.

you usually get up and head to the bathroom to freshen up before your video calls with him, but tonight, you had no energy to do so. it was 4 AM, after all, and you felt like passing out soon anyway.

the device in your hand vibrates and rings, and your thumb hovers over the screen, sliding it to answer.

heeseung's voice comes through. "hey, (name)—oh, were you asleep?"

you shake your head no, but he only looked at you in confusion, resulting in you groggily holding up a thumbs-down to the camera. he responds with a hearty chuckle and a little bit of baby talk, telling you to get some sleep afterwards.

as you adjust the position of the pillow your cheek lies on, you laugh, love filling your heart. "okay, i will," you say. "show it to me then."

the "it" in question are a pair of brand new shoes that he had gotten earlier from a shopping trip with jay.

heeseung ends up rambling. ends up showing you his favorite details and explaining how he was initially at the mall to buy something else (definitely not video games) but ended up buying a pair of shoes after seeing them on a mannequin.

you're trying your best not to sleep, really. you wished you were in the same place right now. wished you were on his bed as he excitedly shows you everything personally. because even though you were six hours apart, it felt like light years to you.

"that's great, baby." you manage. but your eyes fail you, becoming heavier and heavier as your eyelids droop. you hum as if to let him know that you're still awake and listening.

he seems to notice. on your screen, heeseung's eyes dart down to the shopping bag on his desk and back to you, halting his rambles as he watches sleep take over you. he lets out a chuckle. he wishes he was there with you. he really does. 

but for now, he smiles at his phone screen and whispers, "goodnight baby," before ending the call.

he makes sure to text and call you again when you're awake.

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[l2vedive]

SONGS ENHYPEN WOULD LISTEN TO WHILE THINKING OF YOU (OT7).

enhypen ot7 x reader , headcanons , literally just a song dump , fluff and romance for the soul <3 , full playlist is here

... LEE HEESEUNG 𓆩♡𓆪

ᝰ eyes off you by prettymuch

ᝰ "i never thought someone would make me feel so high but here you are."

... PARK JONGSEONG (JAY) 𓆩♡𓆪

ᝰ summertime in paris by jaden, willow

ᝰ "summertime is meant to fall in love; i wrote you a poem for your surprise, it's right by your side."

... SIM JAEYUN (JAKE) 𓆩♡𓆪

ᝰ i don't wanna be okay without you by charlie burg

ᝰ "...your love casts its shadow on the things i do, and i can hear so clearly all the words i wish i said. you're stuck in my head."

... PARK SUNGHOON 𓆩♡𓆪

ᝰ you're all i want by cigarettes after sex

ᝰ "there is no other love, it's only yours. you're all i want, all i love."

... KIM SUNOO 𓆩♡𓆪

ᝰ those eyes by new west

ᝰ "cause all of the small things that you do are what remind me why i fell for you."

... YANG JUNGWON 𓆩♡𓆪

ᝰ invisible string by taylor swift

ᝰ "and isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?"

... NISHIMURA RIKI (NI-KI) 𓆩♡𓆪

ᝰ the louvre by lorde

ᝰ "our thing progresses, i call and you come through. blow all my friendships, to sit in hell with you. but we're the greatest, they'll hang us in the louvre. down the back but, who cares—still the louvre."

© l2vedive on tumblr

[l2vedive]

SUNGHOON AS YOUR BEST FRIEND IN HIGH SCHOOL (HCS).

park sunghoon & reader , headcanons , fluff , comedy , cursing ig idk , mentions of other members (jungwon , sunoo) , high school au , more on classroom shenanigans

ᝰ now this bitch (affectionately)

ᝰ sunghoon is a nosey person

ᝰ he goes through ur things just for the fun of it (probably makes towers out of ur pencils, he's easily entertained)

ᝰ one time you came into class with a fancy keychain hanging onto your bag’s zipper and he was like :0

ᝰ “what’s this”

ᝰ “sanitizer, lotion, yk the like”

ᝰ “man, you girls have so many cool things why don’t guys ever get anything like this”

ᝰ bored and curious, he uncaps all of them and starts sniffing everything before trying it on 😭

ᝰ (his favourite is the birthday cake scented sanitizer that he almost finished)

ᝰ he asks you to get him one so you do HFJDFDK

ᝰ he ALWAYS fucks around with you just for shits and giggles (ie. him catching you snack in class and then raising his hand to snitch but instead he asks to go to the bathroom)

ᝰ being petty, you tell him spoilers from a show ur both watching (they’re not true) and—

ᝰ “NO”

ᝰ “(name), what the hell i was just messing with you :(”

ᝰ “that was so low…”

ᝰ you feel bad but #deserved

ᝰ he starts sulking while doing his work and turns back every three minutes to ask if you were being fr with those spoilers (you say no and he’s like “thank god” before the teacher catches yall talking)

ᝰ noisiest bitches in class

ᝰ 99% of the time he's louder than u with the way he laughs 😭

ᝰ clingy.

ᝰ yk those friends who start moaning for no reason when you’re on the phone with your family? that’s him 💀

ᝰ the way you met is one of the funniest things you two laugh about to this day

ᝰ okay so first things first, you were the new student he had heard about who also shared the same interests as him but seeing that sunoo was the only one of his friends who already had your number, he jumped on the chance to send yours to his own phone

ᝰ honestly just an excited dude because he’s never met someone in his group of friends who liked the same interests as he did

ᝰ so when you get a random ass text from him an unknown number, asking you what’s your favourite netflix show, you block him immediately bc 😵

ᝰ the next day at school he approaches you and lowkey, at first you were like ?!?!?! but then he says he got your number from sunoo and proceeds to explain himself

ᝰ you get along well after that bc he insists you guys are automatically best friends now

ᝰ but it also took him a while to ease up because ur energy felt like a child on sugar rush compared to his and he was simply not built for that 😭

ᝰ he does sometimes match ur energy and it only comes out when he's around u (and sunoo)

ᝰ it’s all good though, because you balance each other out

ᝰ plus he doesn’t mind you doing the talking bc he likes hearing u talk

ᝰ u both are giving that calm x too much energy meme with both of u switching it up from time to time LOL

ᝰ hes the kind that doesnt show much affection so he often does it discreetly

ᝰ this kinda confuses u for a bit bc he ends up tapping ur shoulder or ur wrist like three times and ur like ???? "are u ok hoon"

ᝰ "yes" and ur like 🧐

ᝰ three taps = i love u 😕 (platonically or romantically take it however u want)

ᝰ u find out from jungwon what those three taps mean so now it always make u smile whenever he does it

ᝰ above all else though , hoon as ur best friend is like having a soulmate for life :)

[l2vedive]

I LOVE YOU (TEASER).

PAIRING: sim jaeyun/jake x fem!reader

GENRES: includes smut (minors dni), heavy angst, hurt no comfort, slowburn, one sided pining, fluff at the end, friends with benefits, classic communication issues trope, university au

SYNOPSIS: in which you and jake are in a friends with benefits situation. sort of.

TEASER WORD COUNT: 472 words.

RELEASE DATE: READ HERE.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: originally posted in my old account and originally written for itzy, i decided to repost it for enhypen to get over my writer's block lol. so for now , i present you with the teaser of i love you !! i hope you enjoy this sneak peek :))

TAGLIST: CLOSED.

Despite his hazy view of you on top, Jake is about to stop you and ask what you mean until you lace a fistful of his hair in your hands behind his neck and kiss him.

And even though you've kissed a lot, this was extremely different. For so many reasons.

For one, oh my god. You are on his lap, half-naked with your ass in his hands and your tits pressed up close, and Jake actually prays his boner doesn't build up a tent through his jeans. Second, you're in public. And third, you never had sex in public. At least not with him.

But now he gets to feel the experience of doing so in your kiss. You are so good. You are so fucking good . Jake knows that you know what you're doing with every soft bite on his bottom lip, every flick and suck of your tongue dancing with his, every moan devoured by him.

He's not so bad himself and he knows it too.

(You had taught him how.)

You aren't finished when you start grinding your hips against him and Jake fights every bone in his body to move with you. "Fuck, YN," And it comes out as a hiss rather than a warning. You were too good . Too addicting .

It's even harder when he feels your hand fall back and in between you both, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, palming him through his boxers.

"Come on, Jake," You say, but Jake feels like you're pushing him rather than asking. "Do you want this or not?"

So Jake lets you. For a second until he pulls away and is out of breath. His heart hammers inside of his chest and he's quick enough to get ahold of your hand, stopping you.

He moves to get up, pushing you off of his lap and embarrassingly, you stagger on your heels before falling on the couch. You don't say anything. And even though he's confused, you know he's pissed.

"I don't always want to fuck you, YN,"

"You're so boring," You say.

"And you're drunk," Jake replies, straightening his posture. Because when you got drunk, you were out like a mad woman. Between the two of you, he was the lightweight and that was actually how the two of you became friends; he was sure he could keep up with you the moment Heeseung had introduced the both of you to each other at his last house party, immediately taking an interest in you. Long story short, he liked you and you liked having him for company, and it just snowballed from there.

But for now, his mind is racing and his clothes suddenly feel tight on him—and no, it's not because of his boner—worse, his throat almost chokes up when he hears: " I'm sober."

© l2vedive on tumblr | please do not copy, rewrite, repost or translate any of my works in other platforms.

[l2vedive]

AFTERGLOW (784).

sim jaeyun / jake x reader , short drabble inspired by that one scene in the summer i turned pretty , angst

"i'm sorry?" jake says genuinely. or so, you thought it would be. the hasty apology tumbles out of his lips, the five letter word you've been meaning to hear from him after last night. however, his indifference to the elephant between the both of you is enough to set your emotions spiralling again.

"are you sorry?" disbelief hangs in your tone as you rebuff him for the way he's acting.

"i don't know what you want me to say, (name)." he shrugs, tossing the basketball back and forth in his hands. call it irrational, but you hated it when he did that. jake always did this—always kept his attention elsewhere whenever you tried to have a serious conversation, wearing it off like it means nothing.

like you meant nothing to him except when he deemed it convenient for him.

your eyes stare his down as you inwardly tell the tearducts of your eyes to stop welling up. your hair dances around the frame of your face, the summer breeze whistling in between. you are not going to cry.

"maybe heeseung was right," you say as you press your lips thinly.

something switches inside the boy in front of you. he looks at you, baffled. eyes looking like he's got it figured and is ready to pounce on the chance to call it out.

"is this whatever this is—," he points to the space between you two. "about? you're with heeseung now?"

"what? no! don't turn this on me, jake," it's getting ridiculous at this point, the back and forth between you two.

"if i had known you'd be like this, then i shouldn't.." you halt yourself before you could finish.

this whole summer, the moment it started, you hoped that one day he would be able to fall in love with you like you always dreamed of. away from the popular crowd and the girls that fawned over him in school. you hoped that when you confess your feelings to him, he would too.

you didn't want to do it like this.

you were getting angry. you brush your hair back, collecting yourself as you will yourself not to cry.

"you shouldn't have kissed me." you strained, voice barely above whisper. you hate how much he has an effect on you.

"i thought you wanted me to kiss you, so i did! and then i see you get in a car with heeseung later that night from my window. how do you think that makes me feel?"

bitter laughs fall out of your mouth. "so you decide to ask chaeyoung out? god, you're such an asshole."

"why are you being like this?"

"me? you're the one who's been confusing this whole time. you say all the right things, do the right thing and then when shit hits the fan, you're out,"

the first tear rolls down your cheek and you don't let it affect you. you didn't want to let jake take the win home. you're not sure when this has turned into an unspoken competition but it's there, and you were determined not to lose. albeit, you weren't sure how long you could keep up.

"i never know what's going on in your head anymore, jake."

jake falters, the basketball long forgotten as he steps closer to reach out to you. "what.. what are you trying to say?"

you briskly wipe your tears with the knuckle of your index finger. "i'm saying i'm tired, jake. i'm not going to sit and wait for you anymore."

"(name), come on. don't do this."

you don't want this to mean anything for whatever lingering feelings you still have for him, despite the mind games. but it's hard when you feel like there's a gun being held straight to your heart; to all the feelings you keep close, and you're not sure if you like feeling this way.

the boy takes one step forward, his hand reaching out to hold yours. you take three steps back in return, in fear that if you didn't, he'd be able to reach you, hold your hand, cup your face, look into your eyes, and say "i'm sorry, i love you".

but you know he won't and you know that even if he did take those steps, it would be you taking the fall with no one to save you.

jake doesn't say anything. you take this as a sign to turn your heel around, drag your feet into the house and upstairs to your room.

you crawl into your bed, making sure to hide under the covers as the water dam breaks. you break into a sob, too tired to fight it all back, and crying yourself to sleep.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[l2vedive]

REJECTED (ONESHOT SMAU).

in which jay asks you for your phone number and you reject him by saying you don't have a phone while holding it.

park jongseong (jay) x fem!reader , profanity , mini social media au , crack au , comedy

... BONUS 𓆩♡𓆪

© l2vedive on tumblr