#me when this has been in my drafts for actual months

[jaysbaefie]

bullshit | sjy

synopsis: in which months of mocking jake online comes back to bite you, and he makes sure you regret every single word—on your knees.

genre: idol au

pairing: idol!jake x blogger!reader

warnings: dubcon? bratty!reader, petty!jake, mean!jake, big dick!jake, kidnapping (sort of kind of??), oral (m.rec), cum swallowing, reader grinds down on jake’s shoe, mention of daddy kink (but it’s not used), forced submission, manhandling, titty sucking, marking, begging, degrading. self degradation, rough and unprotected p in v, orgasm denial, overstimulation, light spanking slapping and chocking, creampie, spitting, recording for blackmail purposes. i think that’s it….

wc: 15.1k

a/n: this took a lot more time that i initially thought it would … but it’s here now! this draft has been sitting in my archives for years like literal years. back when i used to write on wattpad for bts i had this plot written for tae but scrapped it because i lacked creativity to make it happen. but here we r ! also side note this is not edited to the best of its abilities so if u c a mistake… im sorry :D hope you enjoy, notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy :)

✎﹏﹏

the dorm door slammed open, the sound of sneakers dragging across the floor echoing behind it. the 7 exhausted boys spilled into the living room, all drained and sweaty from the insane dance practice that had run two hours longer than scheduled. jake collapsed face-first onto the couch, groaning into a throw pillow as he stretches his limbs before he feels a cramp in his leg.

"i think my spine is permanently bent," he mumbled, not moving an inch.

sunghoon flopped onto the floor, using his hoodie as a pillow. "i think i disassociated during 'bite me.'"

"you always disassociate during 'bite me,'" heeseung shot back, tossing a towel at him making sunghoon scowl.

jay, meanwhile, had his phone out, thumb lazily scrolling through twitter as he half-listened to the chaos around him. he was about to put his phone down when a thread caught his eye.

"kpop idols who probably have the smallest dick (a very unserious thread)"

"...oh?" jay blinked, intrigued for all the wrong reasons. a grin formed on his lips as he clicked, the list started off wild.

1. jaehyun nct - idc what y'all say. he screams below average. 2. jeno nct - this is a hater post. cry about it. 3. jake from enhypen - golden retriever energy but gives micro vibes. sorry not sorry.

jay let out a loud, sudden laugh at the description given for jake—catching everyone's attention.

"yo, jake," he wheezed, turning the screen toward him. "look what someone said about you."

jake rolled over lazily, half hazy, "what?"

jay shoved the phone in front of his face. jake read the tweet once, then again. then a third time. his brows furrowed deeper with each pass, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was reading.

"...are you serious right now?"

he sat up, yanking the phone from jay's hand to read it himself. his eyes scanned the username, the post and then the likes. 10k likes for a bullshit post, jake scoffed in disbelief. he scrolled down to read the replies which were full of people either agreeing or arguing like their lives depended on it.

"no because she's right and she should say it louder" one of the comments read, jake furrowed his eyebrows before scowling.

"i love him but... yeah."

"nah he gives big dick energy actually"

"this is so mean LMFAOOO"

jake's mouth opened in shock. "why am i even on this list? what did i do to deserve this? how does someone look at me and go, 'yeah, micro dick.' what the hell?"

jay couldn't stop laughing. "it's so random, too. like. where did they get the data? did they run a poll?"

"this isn't funny!" jake snapped, slapping jay's shoulder with the back of his hand. "i'm being slandered in front of thousands of people. tens of thousands!"

sunoo peeked over jay's shoulder. "ooh. and someone made a follow-up post. wait—found their tumblr. they said he looks like he apologizes after missionary.'" sunoo cackles, "i can totally see that."

jake nearly choked on air, "what?!"

he snatched sunoo's phone this time, heart pounding as he scrolls violently across your twitter page. he followed the breadcrumb trail from twitter to a tumblr blog: @s0ftbrat666.

the header was a blurry photo of a cunty hello kitty, and the bio just said: "unserious about everything but dick size."

"who the hell is this? why do they hate me so bad?"

niki, who had been quietly sipping water from the kitchen, muttered, "maybe they're a fan of yours. like, weirdly obsessed. reverse psychology or something."

"no. this is personal. this feels targeted," jake muttered, already downloading and opening the tumblr app on his phone. "i'm not letting this slide."

he made a new account. he picked the most ironic, absurd username he could think of: @goldenjake420.

because that screams, 'i'm the real jake sim!!'

he messaged you immediately, his hands shaking in rage as he smashes his fingers into the screen.

@goldenjake420: hey just saw your post about me having a micro dick on twitter. not sure why you said that but i can assure you that it's not true kinda rude ngl maybe take it down?

"this is so stupid," he muttered, tossing his phone beside him.

jay raised a brow. "you really just dm'd a twitter troll on tumblr?"

"yes. because the truth matters, jay. i do not have a micro dick!" he exclaims, clearly frustrated from his group mates lack of empathy. he looks around the room in hopes of his members reassurance, only to receive looks of disturbance.

"cmon guys, you know i don't have a micro dick.." he trails off when he sees sunoo grimace at his words.

heeseung smirked from the other side of the couch suddenly sitting up right, ignoring his aching body. "you should send a pic to prove it."

jay cackles before agreeing, "yeah, downwards angles always make that shit look like a tower."

"SHUT UP!" jake shouted, face red in a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

the room erupted in laughter as jake sat there fuming, arms crossed, waiting for a response. he had no idea the person he messaged was already rolling their eyes and preparing to block him.

and this was only the beginning.

you were no stranger to the occasional deranged and delusional fan losing their mind over a post. it was social media, not a diplomatic summit. if you said someone's fave had bad fashion sense or gave off weak dick energy, it was bound to stir drama—but you thrived in it.

what you didn't expect, though, was to get a dm from an account called @goldenjake420 claiming to be jake himself. not just a fan defending him. not someone crying in your inbox about how you were "too mean."

no. this person had committed to the bit.

@goldenjake420: hey just saw your post about me having a micro dick on twitter. not sure why you said that but i can assure you that it's not true kinda rude ngl maybe take it down?

you blinked at the message, snorted, and sat back in your chair.

"okay..." you muttered under your breath. "we've reached new levels of delusion."

you clicked the profile. no posts. followed no one. default layout. pfp of a blurry golden retriever. and the username?

goldenjake420.

"oh my god," you wheezed. this was peak fandom brainrot.

you stared at the message for a minute, thumbs hovering over your keyboard before you decided, you know what? fine. you wanna play jake sim? let's play.

you typed:

@s0ftbrat666: omg jake??? THE jake sim??? i am so sorry... i didn't know you had a tumblr account i feel so bad now omg i'll take it down right away thank you for being so mature and respectful about it... ugh i feel terrible lol

you hit send. then burst out laughing, eyes watering as you cackle alone in your room.

and five minutes later, you posted a new post on your blog.

—— post by @s0ftbrat666

just got a dm from someone PRETENDING to be jake sim because they were mad i said he has a micro dick LMAOOO. like babes be serious... jake sim is not on tumblr dot com messaging me with a blurry pic of a golden retriever and the username @/goldenjake420. but since he's here reading my posts, hey jake! if u're mad now wait til u see what i post next

anyway updated my list: "kpop idols who give off submissive missionary micro dick energy: extended version" jake is now first on the list. i've added footnotes and gifs as evidence. enjoy :] ——

you tagged it: #jake sim #enhypen #pls don't take this seriously #except jake if ur reading this then yeah take it seriously

you sat back and refreshed the notes every few seconds. it was already blowing up. likes, reblogs, someone screaming in the tags: "NOT THE FOOTNOTES."

you were thriving, satisfaction filling you as the comments seemed to hype you up.

unbeknownst to you, somewhere in a dorm across the city, jake was screaming into a pillow.

jake was laying on his stomach, face shoved into a couch cushion, aggressively refreshing your tumblr page like a man on a mission. the first message he sent you hadn't gone exactly how he expected. he thought maybe—maybe—you'd feel a little guilty, take the post down, maybe even apologize. instead, he was met with:

"omg jake??? THE jake sim??? i am so sorry..."

at first, he blinked. then smiled. you were going to apologize and take it down..great!

okay, he thought, that was easier than expected.

but then he saw the post you had published just a few minute later.

—— "kpop idols who give off submissive missionary micro dick energy: extended version." jake is now first on the list. i've added footnotes. and gifs. enjoy :] ——

"NO I AM NOT," he yelled into the pillow, voice muffled but full of sheer disbelief.

he rolled over and shot upright, shoving his phone in jay's face. "do you SEE this? i was already called micro dick jake, but now i'm a submissive pillow princess? where is she even getting this from?"

jay looked over the post with a calm expression and said, "well... you did say 'ngl' in a tumblr dm. that's kinda submissive."

"jay."

"i'm just saying."

jake's blood pressure was actively rising. he was pacing the living room now, phone clenched in his fist. "this isn't a joke anymore. she's making footnotes. gifs, bro. there's like a whole academic paper on my dick energy. and worst of all, PEOPLE ARE AGREEING."

sunoo peeked around the corner. "maybe just let it go? like... it's tumblr. no one's gonna remember next week."

"it's twitter too! no. no, she wanted to make it personal. it's personal now."

he went back to tumblr, typing furiously in your dm's.

@goldenjake420: okay first of all?? i was acc being really nice u said some really rude stuff and i still tried to talk to u calmly but now ur doubling down with footnotes?? idk y ur so convinced i'm a submissive pillow princess but ur wrong like so wrong scientifically inaccurate levels of wrong

he hit send. then stared at the screen.

nothing. no response. refresh. refresh.

"error: message could not be delivered."

"...what?" jake frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he desperately tried sending his messages again.

he clicked your profile.

"you've been blocked by this user."

the silence that followed was deafening.

"she blocked me," he whispered, staring at his phone like it had personally betrayed him. "she actually blocked me."

jay cackled from across the room. "maybe now you'll stop fighting the tumblr girl who thinks you're a bottom."

"i'm not a bottom!" jake snapped, defensive. "and i'm definitely not a pillow princess!"

jay peers over jake's shoulder, his face pulls into a grimace as he reads jake's messages. "maybe it's a good thing that those didn't deliver... you're proving her point." jake rolls his eyes in response, not wanting to deal with his friend.

he opened twitter, then paused. was he really about to tweet about this?

he closed the app.

instead, he opened his notes app and started typing:

"debunking tumblr slander: why i, jake sim, am not submissive nor do i have a micro dick."

this wasn't over.

if he had to write a dissertation, he would. he was reclaiming his name. one footnote at a time.

you were in bed, face smushed into your pillow, scrolling aimlessly when the tag notification came in. you were about to ignore it—probably another reblog of your cursed "submissive missionary micro dick energy" thread—but the caption caught your eye:

@s0ftbrat666 you need to see this LMAOOO he made a THREAD. a whole thread.

confused but curious, you tapped the post.

and there it was.

a full thread. by a tumblr user named @truthaboutjake, which already gave deranged energy, but it got better.

"debunking tumblr slander: why i, jake sim, am not submissive nor do i have a micro dick (a thread)."

you nearly dropped your phone, a giggle leaving you as you excitedly click on the thread.

the first slide was formatted like a presentation. bolded title, bullet points, and an unnecessary amount of spacing like someone had spent way too long formatting it.

—— slide 1: addressing the accusations • the tumblr user @s0ftbrat666 has made multiple posts claiming i am submissive • she has also accused me of having a micro dick • both of these are false, offensive, and based on no real evidence ——

no real evidence, he said. like you were in court.

"what in the deranged.." you muttered to yourself, re-reading the text a second time to make sure you were hallucinating.

you snorted, swiping to the next.

—— slide 2: rebuttal • i've been told i give off dominant energy • no one who owns a denim jacket collection that big can be submissive • as for the size... let's just say i've never received complaints ——

you had to pause there, hand over your mouth, wheezing. "denim jackets radiate peg me," you cackle to yourself.

this wasn't a thread written by a deranged fan. no, this was someone personally offended on a soul level. and the way it was written? the tone? the wording?

it was giving him. it was jake.

no one else would be this pressed.

you laughed so hard you had to sit up.

this man had been so insulted by your dumb, unserious thirst post that he created a whole alternate account, wrote a google-doc-tier thread, and was now trying to clear his name in the notes app format. you were obsessed.

you hit reblog.

—— @s0ftbrat666: i have never in my life witnessed a man fight for his dom rights this hard the denim jacket argument almost had me convinced ngl

jake sim if this is actually you: 1. calm down 2. you're literally proving my point 3. post the evidence since you're so confident ——

the comments came flooding in:

"NOT HIM MAKING A PRESENTATION" "'never received complaints' is CRAZY" "he could've just logged off but now he's in too deep" "@truthaboutjake is shaking"

you weren't done though. oh no.

you clicked the original post again and dm'd @truthaboutjake directly.

@s0ftbrat666: wow a thread? you really sat down and made a powerpoint about your dick this is the best thing that's happened to me all week but you still haven't proven anything so until i see hard (and i mean HARD) evidence you're staying in your submissive micro dick era i'll wait <33

you hit send with a shit-eating grin.

this was your roman empire now. you were going to be thinking about this thread forever.

jake stared at your message like it physically slapped him.

"so until i see hard (and i mean HARD) evidence you're staying in your submissive micro dick era"

his jaw dropped.

"e-evidence?!" he sputtered aloud, standing up in the middle of the dorm living room like he'd just been accused of murder.

jay, sitting across the room with earbuds in, pulled one out and glanced up. "what now?"

"she wants evidence."

jay blinked. "like...?"

jake gestured wildly at his phone. "like evidence evidence!"

jay raised both brows before grinning "...so what i said about the downward angle, i'm telling you jake that shit makes it look h—"

"NO!" jake practically yelled. "i'm not sending a picture of my dick to some random troll on tumblr!"

he fumed. typed. deleted. typed again. then, finally, sent:

@truthaboutjake: okay. listen. i'm not sending you a dick pic. i don't care how much you want "evidence" that's weird. this whole thing is weird. i'm literally just trying to correct a false narrative about myself

you saw the message and immediately rolled your eyes so hard you almost saw your brain. you were curled up on your couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, typing with vicious speed.

@s0ftbrat666: omg. are you serious right now?? NO ONE asked for actual dick pics. what the hell is wrong with you. you're literally so deep in this delusion you really think you're jake sim like?? be serious for once you are a grown man on tumblr dot com pretending to be an idol and defending your imaginary dick size this is next level behavior. you need to touch grass and maybe talk to a therapist jake sim would never you are EMBARRASSING yourself rn.

you hit send and sighed, rubbing your temples. it was funny at first but the more you interacted with this person the more brain cells you lost, it shocked you that people would go to such lengths to defend their favs.

this was beyond fandom drama now. this was a case study. and the worst part? you were kind of impressed with how committed he was to the bit. concerned of course, but impressed too.

like... he was spiraling. but passionately.

still. you weren't going to let up. because whoever this man was, he needed to be humbled.

you opened a new post draft and typed:

—— @s0ftbrat666: update: he dm'd me again and accused me of demanding dick pics because i said "evidence"

i rest my case. this is not jake sim. this is some 32-year-old man who unironically uses reddit and thinks being called "submissive" is a slur

log off, drink some water, and go outside before you get a nosebleed from rage

#jake sim #not the real one obviously #this is tumblr not onlyfans relax ——

✎﹏﹏

jake tried to move on.

he really did.

after the dick thread. after being labeled a submissive missionary pillow princess. after the fake fan accusations and being accused of roleplaying as himself—he made the conscious choice to stop checking your blog. he muted your username. closed tumblr for a solid 24 hours. he even turned off his notifs.

he was healing. growing. rebuilding his sanity.

until a member sent him a screenshot.

it was sunghoon.

of course it was sunghoon.

sunghoon: yo y tf she got sm time on her hands icl tho she funny asf

attached was a photo of your newest tumblr post.

jake opened it, eyes squinting. then he saw it.

—— @s0ftbrat666: watched enhypen's most recent stage and i just wanna know WHO chose those pants for jake like bffr. i can see his entire situation

the dick print? front and center. and it's not giving what he thinks it's giving

it's giving: he begged the stylist to let him wear those pants so he could prove me wrong and i'm here to tell you... babe... don't ever do that again.

i'm LAUGHING.

#enhypen #jake sim #pls don't wear tight pants if ur not ready for the scrutiny king #it's not looking good ——

jake froze.

his phone was literally vibrating with how hard he was gripping it.

"she's watching performances now?" he whispered to himself, horrified.

jay looked up from across the room, warily. "...oh god. again?"

"she's analyzing my crotch, jay. she made a post about my dick print."

jay blinked. "that's... new."

"and she said it's 'not giving'!" jake practically screamed, spinning his phone around to show him. "not giving what?! not giving big dick energy?!?!"

jay read it silently, lips twitching. "...it does kind of sound like she thinks you're trying to prove her wrong. which, to be fair, you kinda are." he pauses for a second, "but i thought she deemed you as a deranged fan, does she think that you're actually texting her?"

jake shrugs, "who knows what she's thinking, clearly way to much of this is the shit she posts. also i wasn't even thinking about her when i wore those pants!"

"you literally made a thread defending your dick size last week."

"NOT THE POINT."

jake felt like he was going to combust. it was like every time he clawed his way back to peace, you dropped another post from hell and dragged him back into the pit.

and this time?

this time you targeted his outfit. his styling choices. his crotch visibility. he couldn't even enjoy the stage anymore without wondering if you were out there in a hoodie, behind a screen, zooming in on freeze frames of his pants.

"this is psychological warfare," jake muttered.

sunghoon looked up from his phone, his face annoyed. he was tired of hearing about this, "just block her again."

jake clenched his jaw. "she'll post about it. she'll brag."

he scrolled back up, reading the caption again. and again. his fingers hovered over your username.

he didn't message you. not this time.

instead, he posted on his burner account:

—— @truthaboutjake: some people spend their lives spreading negativity online because they have nothing else going for them. if you spend your free time zooming in on people's bodies just to make fun of them, seek help.

also, the pants looked fire. ——

he hit post. and then, two minutes later he opened the group chat.

jayke: whoever styled me last week. never again. we're going back to loose pants. i'm not doing this with tumblr anymore

✎﹏﹏

jake tried to stay composed. he tried.

but every time he opened tumblr, there you were—lurking in his psyche like a demon with wi-fi.

at first it had been a few jabs, sprinkled here and there between your usual posts about other idols. someone's hair, another's dance move, one guy you kept thirsting over for his "evil smirk" and "long fingers." whatever. jake didn't care.

until suddenly—your entire blog became about him.

not in a cute, stan-like way.

no.

it was relentless.

"jake sim update: still looks like a man who apologizes during sex."

"new era, same micro dick energy."

"his pants looked like they were holding in a lie."

"i know he fumbles the aux every time. just look at him."

your followers ate it up. reblog after reblog. tags like "#he's just so bashable" and "#jake sim slander is self-care" filled the notes.

there were polls. there were graphics.

you made a tier list of idols based on who looked like they cried after sex, and jake was placed right at the top with the caption: "he looks like he'd say 'was that okay?' while tucking his soft dick back in his briefs."

jake was spiraling.

the worst part? you didn't even seem like a hater. you didn't hate him.

you just... targeted him like it was your job. your content was crafted with care. effort. borderline affection.

jay leaned over one afternoon while jake doomscrolled through another one of your polls—this one titled "which idol do you think would last the shortest in bed (no offense)", where jake was winning by 68%.

"you know," jay mused, "i think she actually likes you."

jake looked up, eyes wide with horror as he looks at jay disgusted. "what?"

jay shrugged. "she's obsessed. it's giving weirdly specific attention. enemies-to-lovers coded."

"jay. she made a gifset of my crotch."

"exactly."

jake nearly threw his phone across the room.

it wasn't just slander anymore—it was becoming personal. and the most infuriating part?

you were so sure. so smugly sure.

every post was laced with casual cruelty and the sharp confidence of someone who truly believed they knew him. his vibes. his music taste. his dick size. like you'd studied him and filed a damn report.

and the urge to prove you wrong? it was eating at him.

he'd see one of your posts and get this itch. this slow, simmering burn in his gut. like he had something to prove now. like he wanted to walk up to you and say—

"say that shit again. to my face."

he'd fantasized about it more than once.

cornering you at a fansign, maybe. or catching you backstage if he ever figured out who you were. you with that smug little expression, your arms crossed like you knew everything. and him, leaning in, low and sharp, and making damn sure you knew you were wrong about everything—especially that.

he wasn't even mad anymore. not just mad. he was determined.

this wasn't just tumblr slander. this was a challenge.

and jake sim? he didn't lose.

✎﹏﹏

jake laid in bed, phone hovering above his face, lit only by the blue glow of tumblr's godforsaken app. it was well past 2 a.m., and he'd already scrolled through your entire blog—again.

he told himself it was just to see if you'd posted anything new. which, of course, you had,

but really, he was spiraling.

another post. this one read:

—— @softbrat666: something about jake sim just screams whines when it doesn't slide in all the way like he'd pause mid-thrust to ask if you're okay because he came too fast

he'd definitely say 'but you just feel so good...' as an excuse ——

and the worst part?

jake read every single reply. studied them, even. like they held some kind of twisted insight into how you saw him. how you imagined him. you were building this whole persona of him in your mind and then broadcasting it to thousands of followers like it was gospel. and the most messed up part?

you had just enough accuracy to make it sting.

and yet—you remained anonymous.

faceless. untouchable.

he'd tried to find out who you were. he dug through old posts, clicked your tags, searched your url on twitter and insta.

all he found was:     •    you lived in seoul     •    you were 21     •    you drank too much iced americano     •    and you had audacity in excess

that was it. no selfies. no personal posts. no full name. you were just a sassy username and a collection of jake sim hate posts.

meanwhile, he was a public figure with his whole government face on blast while you dragged him through the mud constantly.

he hated how much he thought about what you looked like.

were you soft and bratty, like your tone suggested? did you smirk when you wrote those captions? were you the type to twirl your hair and say, "what? it's not that deep," while ruining a man's reputation?

he imagined you walking around seoul, laughing with your friends, ordering overpriced coffee with that smug, evil-little-gremlin energy.

he imagined running into you.

he'd play it cool at first—polite, casual, maybe even a little flirty.

watch you ramble. watch you squirm. and when he caught you slipping—maybe when you made some offhand comment about k-pop or tumblr—he'd hit you with it:

"so how's that blog going? still think i'm a submissive pillow princess with a micro dick?"

he rolled onto his side, fuming into his pillow. you lived in his head rent-free and you didn't even know what he looked like at night when he was losing sleep over your bullshit posts.

it was unfair.

you got to stay invisible while he was out here analyzing his own stage outfits to figure out what clip you were gonna slander next.

he scrolled back to that gif set you made of his recent performance. paused on the close-up. the zoom-in.

the goddamn caption: "not jake sim trying to start a dickprint redemption arc. spoiler: it's not working."

his eye twitched.

"this girl is the devil," he muttered.

and yet... he couldn't stop checking. he needed to know what you'd say next.

✎﹏﹏

you wake up to absolute chaos.

your phone is buzzing. not one or two notifications—hundreds. group chats. twitter and tumblr dms. unknown numbers. missed calls. it's like your phone caught fire overnight.

you blink against the morning light, groggy and confused, heart picking up speed. something's wrong. you can feel it. you squint at the screen, drag down your notifications, and the first notification you see makes your stomach drop.

"girl you're trending rn... what did you DO???"

then another.

"is that actually your name???"

your pulse is pounding before you even open twitter. your fingers shake as you type your own @ into the search bar, and the second you hit enter, your breath catches.

it's you.

your name. your photo. your phone number. everything.

someone—no, a group of people—had clearly gone full fbi. they'd taken all your casual, dumb little posts over the years and pieced them together like a fucked-up puzzle.

and now your full name was in a viral thread titled: "this the girl behind the jake sim micro dick blog?"

with a photo of you at a party two months ago, smile beaming.

people were quote-tweeting it with comments like: "she built like someone who'd have beef with jake sim for no reason." "oh she definitely owns a stan twitter burner too." "her blog is my roman empire i need her in therapy immediately."

your blood turned to ice. you were exposed.

fully.

not just as a shitposter but as the jake sim hater. your inbox was flooded—death threats, confessions, apologies, people asking if it was really you. tumblr dms screaming:

"TAKE THE POSTS DOWN BEFORE HE SEES THEM."

too late.

you scrambled to log into tumblr. your hands fumbled across the keys. it took three tries to get your password right.

the second you were in, you did the only thing you could do.

you hit deactivate.

the blog was gone. years of posts. thousands of notes. all of your followers, your drafts, your hate-poll templates.

deleted.

and then the panic really set in.

your hands were trembling. your ears were ringing. and all you could think about was @truthaboutjake, your mind racing. it was him, you realized that it was him.

"he knows. jake sim fucking knows who i am."

and the worst part?

you had no idea what he'd do with it.

✎﹏﹏

jake found out the same way everyone else did—waking up to a string of texts from jay and sunghoon absolutely losing their shit.

jay: bro. check twitter. sunghoon: she got exposed. jay: HER NAME IS OUT LMAOOO jay: bet she's sweating rn sunghoon: she's kinda cute tho

he blinked hard, still groggy, and tapped open the thread that seemed to be trending.

your face stared back at him.

his heart flipped.

you looked... nothing like what he expected. he'd imagined someone smug. cold. maybe with villain bangs and a cigarette habit.

but no—there you were, face flushed in a group photo, laughing mid-sip of iced americano. you looked normal. it almost hurt to admit, but you were pretty.

you looked real.

and now, you were reachable.

he did what anyone would do: searched your name on instagram. he found your linked facebook.

scrolled. scrolled.

paused.

you had your workplace tagged in an old comment.

"juniper bean café - seoul branch."

he stared at it for a long moment. then, very calmly, he stood up, threw on a hoodie, cap, and mask, and left the dorm.

✎﹏﹏

the café was a little tucked away spot with plants hanging from the ceiling and a chalkboard sign outside that said "kiss me, i'm caffeinated."

jake walked in, glancing around. he spotted you immediately, behind the counter, head down as you punched in an order.

he could tell that you had a rough morning, good. your posture was tense. your hair was pulled back messily. your voice was strained. you looked tired, your eyes that seemed so full of life in your leaked photos had disappeared.

he stepped up to the counter. waited. his eyes trailed down your figure, your frame was draped with a loose fitted sweater and some baggy light wash jeans. you wore a black apron, cinching at your waist—allowing his hungry eyes to capture your curves.

you were trying to look invisible. trying not to stand out. but to him—you were glowing with guilt.

he watched you fumble with a stack of napkins, pretending you didn't feel his eyes burning into you. finally you cleared your throat, still not looking up.

"hi, what can i get you?"

he smiled behind his mask, slow and wicked. he pulled it down just enough to speak—voice dripping low, sharp with mocking sweetness.

"you gonna spit in my drink too?" he asked. "or just keep running your mouth somewhere i can't see?"

you froze.

head snapping up. eyes locking with his. and there it was—that flash of horror, recognition, disbelief. it was him.

you had to admit, he was just as if not more handsome in person. your mouth dried up when you watched his lips curl into a smirk and his eye twitch.

your mouth opened. closed. no sound.

"hi," he said, almost sweetly. "miss me?"

you fumbled a reply—something, anything—but he leaned in, resting his elbows on the counter like he had all the time in the world.

"you disappeared fast. what happened? got leaked and lost all your guts or did you burn through all your micro dick material?"

your coworker looked between you both, utterly confused and in awe that jake was standing in front her. you took a breath. straightened your spine. tried to salvage your dignity.

"this is harassment," you muttered.

"this is karma," jake shot back, his smile dark. he twitched in anger, how dare you call this harassment—what about what you had been doing for the last couple of weeks? "i wanted a latte, by the way. no sugar. unless you're finally ready to be sweet to me."

you nearly dropped the milk jug.

he didn't care. he was so amused. you were the girl who wrote entire essays dragging his dickprint and his imagined bedroom habits? you, flushed and stammering behind a café register?

he wanted to laugh. he wanted to lean in closer. he wanted to ruin you back.

and this? this was just the beginning.

your hands were shaking. milk frother sputtering. heart pounding in your chest like it wanted to escape. and he—jake fucking sim—just stood there.

smiling.

smug.

head tilted slightly like he was thrilled by your discomfort. "you gonna make that latte, or you gonna keep fumbling around and glaring at me?" he drawled, voice low and casual.

you gritted your teeth, turned back to the machine, and fumbled through the motions of making the drink. you could feel his eyes on you the entire time—watching, drinking you in like you were the fucking joke.

you finally slid the drink across the counter, trying not to slam it.

"here. now leave."

he didn't move. just sipped slowly, then licked a bit of foam from his lip like it was the most dramatic thing anyone had ever done in a coffee shop.

and then—he leaned forward. elbow on the counter. voice quiet, words slow and deliberate:

"what time do you get off?"

you blinked, "excuse me?"

"your shift. when does it end?"

"why the fuck would i tell you that?"

his smile widened, all teeth now, sharp and smug. "because there's going to be a black car waiting for you outside." he continues, "when you clock out, you're going to get in. and then you're going to follow instructions."

you stared at him, genuinely floored. "are you insane? what the hell are you talking about?"

he tilted his head, mockingly sympathetic. "i get it. you're scared. probably embarrassed." he grins, "but see, that's the thing about defamation—once it's public, i can take legal action. and you've been very public."

your stomach dropped, "you're bluffing."

he shrugged. "wanna bet your savings account on that?"

you opened your mouth. closed it again. because—fuck. he wasn't bluffing. he didn't have to. you'd posted too much. said too much. and now he had your face, your name, your location.

"you can't just—kidnap me," you said, weaker than intended.

he laughed.

"it's not kidnapping if you get in willingly, sweetheart."

then he slid the latte off the counter, turned, and started to walk toward the door. before he left, he glanced back, over his shoulder.

"9 p.m., right?" he called out. "don't be late. i hate being stood up." he grinned, fuck him.

the bell jingled as he left. the door shut behind him.

and you stood there, in your apron and sneakers and sweaty palms, absolutely rattled. what the fuck did you just get yourself into?

✎﹏﹏

9:03 p.m.

you were pacing behind the café. your shift ended three minutes ago, but you hadn't stepped outside yet. you couldn't. your feet felt like bricks. your stomach twisted with anxiety, hands clenched in the pockets of your jeans.

what the fuck am i doing?

you shouldn't go. you know you shouldn't go. this was literally stranger danger 101, except instead of a stranger it was a kpop idol whose dick size you flamed online for weeks.

your brain was screaming at you. your nerves were a warzone. your inner monologue sounded like one long anxiety spiral:

"you're insane." "this is how people get murdered." "he's rich. he could make you disappear and blame it on anxiety meds." "but also... maybe he just wants to talk?" "or maybe he's gonna sue you in person with his scary legal team and laugh while you cry." "or—worse—what if he takes a picture with you and posts it with some shady ass caption like 'finally found her :)' and now you're really cooked?"

your fists clenched tighter.

this was your own fault. you were the one who made that blog. you were the one who said he looked like a pillow princess. you were the one who photoshopped a pacifier into that one fansite photo and captioned it "baby boy can't handle coochie."

and now?

now he knew your name. your face. your shift schedule.

and there it was, waiting on the curb like a horror movie prop—a sleek black car, windows tinted, headlights glowing like eyes.

you stared at it.

and then, finally, took a deep breath and walked towards it.

the back door opened before you could even touch it. you slid inside, hesitating, clutching your bag to your chest like a shield. you looked around the dimly lit interior. leather seats. no jake.

just a stone-faced driver in a black cap.

"um," you said cautiously. "where are we going?"

no response.

you leaned forward slightly. "hello? i just—can you at least tell me if jake is—"

silence.

he kept driving.

great.

you sat back, heart still racing. the lights of the city blurred past the windows. you couldn't even track the direction—you were too jittery to focus. every turn felt like it took you farther from safety.

and god, the silence was suffocating.

you hated it. you hated him.

jake sim and his smug face and his legal threats and the fact that this whole thing was so humiliating.

how the hell did he turn it around on you? curse those people who leaked you.

you were supposed to have the power. the upper hand. you were the one who had thousands of people laughing at his expense. you were the one whose posts got quoted like bible verses on stan twitter.

and now?

now you were alone, in his car, being driven to god knows where because he told you to.

you should've never fucking posted about his dick. you should've stayed anonymous. kept your mouth shut. deleted the pacifier post when it hit 10k notes.

the car slowed. you peeked out the window. it wasn't some mansion, like you feared. wasn't a dungeon either—at least you think so.

it was a private-looking building—modern, sleek, tucked down a quiet alley with a gated entrance. definitely expensive. definitely secluded.

you were dropped off at the curb. the driver didn't say anything—just nodded toward the front door.

you stepped out slowly, phone gripped tight in your hand, ready to fake an emergency call or scream if necessary.

a man, different from the driver, opened the front door. another silent guy in all black gestured for you to follow.

you hesitated, then followed him down a short hallway, up a narrow flight of stairs, until you reached a door with a single number carved into it: 17.

he knocked once, then opened it.

you stepped in—and stopped.

jake was inside.

he was leaning casually against a wall, dressed in all black—hoodie, chain, jeans, hair tousled, like he hadn't even tried and still looked like a good.

he was scrolling on his phone when you entered, then looked up.

and grinned, "hey." he stops, letting his gaze travel down your trembling form, "glad you could make it, hate blogger."

you wanted to punch him. you wanted to turn around and leave. but most of all—you wanted to know what the hell came next.

and by the look on his face?

he was very ready to show you.

room 17 is quiet. too quiet.

you stand near the door, gripping the strap of your bag like it's your last line of defense. jake hasn't moved from his place against the wall, but his eyes haven't left you for a second. he looks too calm. like this is just some casual meetup and not the most batshit confrontation of your entire life.

"you still haven't told me why i'm here," you say finally, voice tight, trying to sound unbothered even though your throat is dry.

he doesn't answer right away. he just studies you, eyes flicking from your clenched fists to your shifting posture to the tiny, almost-invisible tremble in your knees.

then he lets out a soft little chuckle, the kind that feels mean. smug and quiet and condescending.

"you really don't know?" he asks, stepping away from the wall at last. his strides are slow, deliberate, like he knows you won't run—but that you should.

you take a step back automatically, bumping into the door behind you.

"if this is about suing me," you mutter, chin lifting defensively, "you could've just emailed your legal team. this whole drama king act—" "i'm not suing you." he cuts you off, voice calm but sharp. he walks past you and locks the door with a soft click. your stomach flips.

"then what the hell is this?" he turns back to you, expression unreadable, "this is about correction."

you blink, "what?"

"you posted things that were... inaccurate." he steps closer. you press yourself further into the door. "about me. my body. my performance. my preferences." another step. you swear you stop breathing, "so now i'm giving you a chance to see the truth."

you stare up at him, wide-eyed, "you're joking."

"does it look like i'm joking?" he murmurs.

you're momentarily speechless. your brain is whirring, trying to process what's happening. jake sim—international idol, global heartthrob, the man you've memed within an inch of his digital life—has dragged you to a private room to debunk his dick size?

you should laugh, but you can't.

because he's standing too close. because he's looking at you like prey. because his voice is dipped in amusement but his eyes are furious.

"you're out of your mind," you whisper, eyes wide and your jaw slacked.

he shrugs, "maybe."

his hand lifts, knuckles brushing your chin—just enough to make your breath catch.

"but you made this personal. you dragged it out. you turned it into a running gag." he leans down slightly, until your noses are nearly brushing. "and now you're gonna watch what happens when you say shit you can't back up."

your throat works around a swallow. your persona starts to crack.

still—you can't not be a brat.

"so what, you're gonna just pull your dick out like some frat boy in a scandal?" you snort. "you're so mad over a joke, you're—"

"baby," his voice cuts you off again, soft but dangerous.

"a joke is calling me clingy or annoying. a joke is editing me into a pink onesie." he steps even closer, "but accusing me of being a submissive pillow princess with a dick that couldn't break a hymen?" he tilts his head, mocking, "that's slander."

you flush. deeply, "you saw that post?"

"i've seen every post," he says coolly. "and the reblogs. and the tags. and the memes."

you suddenly feel so small. not because he's taller—though he is—but because you'd spent months building this image of jake sim as a joke. a punchline. a target.

and now he's right here. and he's pissed.

"you're really that bothered?" you ask, but your voice is quieter now, unsure. "bothered?" he repeats, almost scoffing. "sweetheart, i was obsessed." his hand lifts again, brushes your hair away from your face, fingers dragging a little too slow behind your ear.

"you don't understand what it's like to be degraded by someone who's too cowardly to even show their face." he pauses, his eyes dropping to your lips, "but i'll show you."

you swallow hard. "so what?" you ask, trying not to waver. "you want me to apologize? to... take it all back? post a formal retraction about your dick?"

he grins. slow and sharp, "nah."

"i want you to see it," he pauses, lets the words sink in. "and then i want to see the look on your face when you realize you were dead fucking wrong."

your mouth opens. no sound comes out. your heart is pounding so fast you think you might throw up. because there's teasing and there's joking and there's flirting with danger—but this? this is crossing the line, and you don't know if you want him to stop.

you laugh, it comes out breathy and nervous and completely unconvincing. "okay," you say, holding your hands up a little, trying to cut the tension with sarcasm, "haha, very funny. you got me. you've officially scared the shit out of me, and if that was your goal, congratulations."

jake just stands there. watching you. expression unreadable, unreadable and dark. you shift on your feet, trying to find a way out of this, trying to reclaim some sense of control.

"look," you continue, "i'll take everything down, okay? every post. every meme. every stupid out-of-pocket caption." you swallow. "i'll issue an apology. hell, i'll write a thread. a whole google doc. whatever you want."

you inch away from the door, toward the side of the room, trying to put some space between you.

"i crossed a line. i get that now." you laugh again, weaker this time. "like—clearly."

jake still doesn't speak, he starts walking.

slow. silent. like a cat with its prey cornered.

your back hits the wall.

"i'll stop posting about you," you rush out, your heart beating frantically when you feel jake's breath fan against your cheek. "seriously. no more degrading content. no more jokes. you win, okay?" his palm hits the wall beside your head with a sharp thud.

you freeze.

he leans in.

"i don't want a fucking apology," he murmurs, voice thick and low, the sound of it making your legs weaken. you try to hold his gaze, but it's hard when he's this close. when you can smell his cologne—clean and warm, like cedar and skin. when you can see the heat in his eyes, the tension in his jaw.

"i want you to look at me," he says, "and admit you were wrong."

"i just did—" "no." his other hand comes up, fingers ghosting your chin, tilting it up. "not because you're scared. not because you think i'm gonna sue your ass. i want you to say it because you know."

you suck in a breath as his fingers graze your throat. not squeezing. not threatening. but claiming, staking a presence.

"you think i'm some submissive little pushover," he whispers, "who just lays there and takes it. soft. boring. harmless."

your heart pounds in your chest so loud you swear it echoes. "you think you own the narrative. that you get to decide who i am, what i'm like in bed, how big my fucking dick is."

you flinch at the way he says it, so vulgar and harsh it shoots straight to your core.

"but the second i show up—" his thumb brushes your bottom lip. "you're quiet. nervous. twitchy. like you already know you were talking out of your ass."

you suck in a shaky breath and try to bite back the heat that's crawling up your neck. "you're insane," you whisper, but there's no bite behind it.

his body is so close now, you can feel the heat radiating off him. he hasn't even touched you properly and you already feel like your knees are going to give.

"what do you want from me?" you ask, voice barely holding together. he leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"i want to fuck the lies out of your mouth." his voice is so low, it vibrates down your spine. "i want you to choke on everything you said about me and realize i was never the one being dominated."

you let out a small, shaky sound—and that's when he finally kisses you.

not soft.

not slow.

possessive. like he's claiming what he's owed.

like he's trying to shove every insult back down your throat, one filthy kiss at a time.

your mind blanks the second his mouth claims yours. his tongue pushes past your lips without hesitation, his hand gripping your jaw to keep you right where he wants you, and you feel it deep—too deep. like he's trying to crawl inside your ribcage and brand himself there.

his kiss isn't gentle. it's punishment. all teeth and tongue, your back shoved harder into the wall as he presses against you. his body completely, deliberately dominating yours.

"still think i'm soft?" he growls against your lips when he pulls back, breath ragged, thumb digging into the underside of your chin to keep you looking at him.

you don't answer. you can't.

your mouth is open, panting, lips wet and swollen from how violently he just kissed you. your knees barely hold.

his gaze drops to your mouth. then lower, and lower.

he smirks.

"you look scared," he says, tilting his head slightly. "thought you liked writing filthy shit about me. what happened to all that confidence?"

you swallow hard, still in absolute disbelief, "you're—you're actually insane."

"and you're actually still turned on." his hand drops to your hip, gripping hard, pulling you flush against him—and fuck. he's hard. painfully hard. pressing right against your lower stomach. and he knows you feel it.

your eyes widen. you try to squirm away but there's nowhere to go, your back hits the wall again and his thigh wedges between your legs.

"not so micro now, is it?" he breathes against your neck. you let out a broken sound—half gasp, half groan—and that's when jake loses it.

he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, other hand sliding beneath your shirt, grazing skin and pulling a shocked noise out of you. he doesn't give you room to breathe.

"say it," he growls. "say you were wrong."

you shake your head. still stubborn. still you.

"no?" he scoffs. "fine." his thigh presses harder between your legs, rocking up once. your clit throbbed pathetically at the feeling, it was just enough friction to make your eyes roll back. you try to keep your composure, but he watches your face change—watches your pride falter.

"don't lie to me, baby." his voice drops lower—hungrier. "you're dripping. over the same guy you dragged for months."

you gasp, trying to turn your face away from him, but he leans in again, his nose brushing your cheek.

"you gonna blog about this too?" he whispers. "tell your little followers how jake sim manhandled you and made you eat your words with his cock halfway down your throat?"

you whimper and it disgusts you how fast your body betrays you. how wet you already are. how much you want him to ruin you just to prove you were wrong.

and he can tell.

he sees the shift in your expression. how your resistance is slowly, deliciously, falling apart.

your wrists are still pinned, your breathing uneven, chest rising and falling fast as jake leans in like he owns the air around you.

"i'm done hearing you talk," he mutters, dragging his mouth along your jaw. "i think it's time you showed me just how sorry you really are."

he releases your hands and steps back. you don't move. your legs are trembling, your pride hanging on by a thread.

"on your knees," he says simply.

you scoff, arms folding defensively across your chest, "you can't be serious—"

he tilts his head, "i'm not asking again."

there's no loud threat. no yelling. just the terrifying calm of someone who already knows he's won. you hold your ground—barely. but something about the way he looks down at you, already palming the bulge in his jeans, makes your body respond before your mind does.

you sink, slowly. knees hitting the floor like it's a confession. he watches you with quiet satisfaction, like he's waited for this exact moment.

he had been dreaming about the moment he would get you to himself, on your knees—right where he wanted you.

"look at me," he says, and you do—eyes meeting his as he unzips, the sound ridiculously loud in the silence.

he's already thick in his hand when he pulls it out, and your mouth goes dry. you don't want to admit it, but fuck. it's big. way bigger than you ever gave him credit for. your throat tightens at the sheer weight of it, thick and flushed and veined.

his smirk deepens when he sees the way your eyes drop.

"what was that again?" he mocks, giving himself a slow stroke. "micro?"

you glare up at him, heat crawling up your neck. "i was clearly misinformed."

"say it properly."

you hesitate, his free hand tangles in your hair—firm, but not painful. just enough to tilt your face up toward him.

"say. it."

you grit your teeth, "i was wrong."

"about what?"

you groan. "about your dick. okay? you don't have a micro dick."

he raises an eyebrow, "that all?"

"it's big," you mutter, cheeks burning. "you made your point." he laughs—low and satisfied—and guides your face closer, "not yet."

you gasp when you feel his tip touch your cheek, he grins at your expression—feeling satisfied with your shock. he does a few experimental taps, dragging his length over your lips. you hold in a whine when he smears his pre cum over your bottom lip, almost as if he was applying lipgloss on you.

and then he pushes in.

there's no easing into it—he gives you the thick weight of his cock all at once, making you choke. your hands scrambling to grip his thighs as he holds you there, watching with dark, satisfied eyes.

"look at that," he murmurs. "mouth so full of me you can't even talk shit now." you gag again, but his grip stays steady, fingers flexing against the back of your head as he rocks his hips in slow, controlled thrusts. just enough to make you feel how deep he is and prove how wrong you were.

he could feel how warm your mouth was around him, basking in the feeling of not only pleasure but the satisfaction of shutting you up.

"this what you wanted?" he groans. "to see what i've been hiding in those pants you loved to degrade?"

you can't respond. not when he's using your mouth like a cock sleeve, fucking every insult out of you with a punishing rhythm. spit drips from out of your mouth and onto your chin. tears prick at your eyes and yet—somewhere deep in your gut—you like it.

jake's grip on your hair gets stronger, the pain causing your jaw to slack as you continue to take his brutal pace. you could feel the head of his cock  rub against the back of your throat, the force not strong enough to make you gag but enough to cause a stream of tears to run down your face.

your nose touched his pelvis with every thrust, indicating how deep he was going. "fuck. look at you, __. who knew cock being in your mouth is the only way to shut you up."

you whine at his words, looking up at him with pleading eyes—yet you didn't know what exacting you were begging for. you rub your thighs together in hopes for some temporary relief, the scene so lewd that you could feel yourself gush in your panties—holding in the urge to let your hands wander down to touch yourself.

jake looked down at you with hungry eyes, his lip twitching as his grip in your hair grew tighter with each thrust. he let low moans slip from his mouth every time his dick grazed the back of your throat.

"aren't you a dirty little whore.." jake drawls out, his chest heaving with pleasure when he notices how tightly you have your thighs clenched. "getting all worked up for someone you've publicly shat on for having the least sex appeal."

you moaned around him when suddenly he pushed your thighs apart with his foot, wedging his sneaker between your legs—giving you something to ease up the tension in your core.

you mewl when he pushed against your clit, almost urging you to grind down against him while he used your mouth to his hearts content. slowly, but surely—you allowed yourself to ground yourself against him. it sickened you how desperate you had become in just a span of a few minutes.

jake almost cums when he sees you move your hips, desperate for any kind of friction to relieve you from your throbbing clit.

the familiar feeling in his stomach begins to tighten, his grip on you becoming unforgiving as he loses self control and allows himself to push himself into your mouth as much as he could. his tip hits the back of your throat repeatedly now, a mixture of his cum and your spit dribbling out of your mouth.

"f-fuck," he groans. "m'gonna cum.. you're gonna take it? yeah? take it in that bratty mouth, hm?" jake murmurs to what seems himself just before he combusts in your mouth. you swallowed a chocked moan when you feel his warm cum coat your mouth, gagging around him as he twitches.

jake felt as if he was on cloud 9, his head lulling to the side as he keeps your head planted where it is—ensuring that you swallow what he gave you fully.

when he finally pulls back, cock glistening with your spit and his cum, your jaw aches as you swallow the salty yet sweet taste of his release.  your chest heaving like you've just survived something.

"mouth open and tongue out," he demands. you hesitantly open your mouth, your tongue out as you show him that you swallowed everything.

you whine out desperately when he slides his foot away, leaving you aching again. jake tsk's, "desperate slut."

he crouches down to your level, thumb wiping the corner of your mouth.

"still think i'm a pillow princess?" his voice is a little breathless now. dark and smug. "or you finally ready to admit you don't know shit about me?"

your throat still burns. your lips are swollen, coated in spit and shame, and jake's leaning over you like he's just getting started.

"on your feet."

you hesitate, still panting, still dazed from the way he fucked your mouth like it was owed to him. but something in his voice—firm, expectant—makes you move. your knees tremble as you rise.

jake doesn't give you time to adjust. the second you're upright, he steps in close, hands on your waist, guiding you backward until your thighs hit the edge of the bed.

you're pressed back against the mattress, thighs parted under his hands, still catching your breath from how rough he'd just been with your mouth. but instead of backing down, you do what you do best—deflect.

"look—how about this," you say, voice shaking but holding onto some scrap of cocky defiance. "i'll just say the blog was satire. irony. you know, performance art or something. no one has to know i meant any of it."

jake's expression doesn't change.

"or better yet—i'll make a new post trashing someone else. redirect the attention. easy." you flash a grin that's all teeth. "maybe i'll even throw in a little praise for you. balance it out."

he just blinks at you. slowly.

"you think you're negotiating right now?" his voice is calm, but the grip on your thighs tightens.

you blink. "i mean, i'm trying to be reasonable—"

"reasonable?" he laughs, but there's no humor in it. "you publicly dragged me for weeks. humiliated me. and now that you're caught, you want to rewrite the narrative?"

"i'm offering solutions—" "you're offering bullshit," he snaps, and in a second he's climbing over you, his body slotting between your legs like it was made to be there. "and you think you still have leverage? cute."

your breath hitches. your hands push at his chest, but he grabs your wrists and pins them down again, harder this time—your body arching into him involuntarily.

"here's what's really gonna happen," he says, leaning in, nose brushing yours. "you're gonna try to flip this. act like you're still in control. try to turn the tables on me."

your throat tightens.

"but you won't. because the second you try, i'll remind you who made you beg. who had you gagging on the dick you said didn't exist." his voice drops lower, dangerous. "and then i'll ruin you all over again."

you glare up at him, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and defiance."you know what? fine." your voice is sharp, shaky. "you wanna play games? i'll play. let's see how fast you fold when i turn this around."

he raises an eyebrow. "is that right?" you reach down between your bodies—slow, deliberate—wrapping your hand around him. he's still hard. unfairly so. hot and heavy in your palm.

"maybe i was wrong about the size," you murmur, stroking him slow, his breath hitching. "but maybe you really are just a pillow princess. maybe you like being praised more than you like fucking."

his jaw ticks.

you press a kiss to his neck, voice a taunt against his skin. "what happens if i ride you instead? if i make you cum all over yourself."

he freezes.

"what if i write about that next?" you sit up dragging your tongue along the edge of his jaw. "'jake sim—big dick, zero stamina.' think the internet'll love that?"

you think you've got him.

until suddenly—he flips you.

you yelp, back hitting the mattress again as he rips your hand away from his cock and shoves your thighs up around his waist. the shift is fast, dominant, practiced.

"you really thought that'd work?" he's laughing now—mean, breathless, hungry. "thought you'd rile me up and get the upper hand? you forget who tracked you down and got you here in this room." his voice is pure venom now, thick with want. "who had you gagging and drooling on your knees while you fucked yourself on my shoes not even 5 minutes ago?"

his hands expertly yank off your jeans, his thumb hooked around the waistband of your baby pink cotton panties—teasing you. you writhe beneath him, but he doesn't budge—he presses into you, cock sliding between your clothed folds just to tease, just to show you what you don't get to control.

"you wanna test stamina?" he growls. "i'll fuck you 'til that smug little attitude disappears. 'til you're begging me to stop. 'til you're crying and calling me daddy."

you gasp—rage, arousal, panic blending in your gut—but you can't deny the throb between your legs. the way your body betrays your pride.

he feels it too.

his free hand runs up your sweater, your breath shaking as you feel him run his fingers up your stomach and make themselves comfortable on your tits. letting your hands go momentarily, he's yanking your sweater off and throwing it across the room.

"didn't know bratty girls like you wore baby pink. ruffles, lace trim—bows?" he grins, his hands playing with the frills of your bra as you twitch beneath him.

"fuck you," you spat out, voice coming out weaker than you wanted it to. jake only smirks, his hand reaching up to pull the straps of your bra down—letting your tits fall out. "oh i will," and with that he's taking one of your nipples hostage in his mouth. his grip on your wrists stays planted, not allowing you to move or struggle against him when he nips at the sensitive skin of your breasts.

he switches from left to right for a few minutes, basking in your whimpers and mewls before he kisses down your stomach. pulling away he's back to being face to face with you, a smug look on his face before he plants a kiss to your jaw. the kiss turns into bites, nipping at your neck and chest as he leaves behind purple splotches.

"maybe you can post the marks i left and then bash me," jake grins against your skin. you roll your eyes in response only for jake to shoot you a look that says: behave.

he moves your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt to his hungry eyes. he runs his thumb through your slit, gathering your slick.

"so wet," he mutters, dragging the head of his cock against your slit. "guess your body knows who's in charge, even if your mouth doesn't." he slams into you—deep, all at once—and you scream.

no teasing now. no easing in. no prepping.

just punishment. just proof. just him, ruining you from the inside out like it's the only way to shut you up.

"gonna make you forget every insult," he grits, hips snapping into yours over and over. "gonna fuck the hate right outta you."

he could feel your velvet walls convulse, sucking him in like a vacuum as he thrusts into you. you cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders, back arching, mind blurring. you hate how good it feels. how right.

"gonna ruin you," he whispers, lips at your neck. "and you're gonna thank me for it." his mouth traveling down to your tit to engulf one of your nipples once again.

your body jolts with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping and moans filling the room as you struggle to adjust to his girth.

you're still trembling when jake lifts your chin. his touch is deceptively gentle, but there's nothing soft in his expression. smug. commanding. dangerously patient.

"you still think you were right?" he asks lowly, voice scraping down your spine like velvet over steel. you blink up at him, lips parted, but your throat is dry. no sass now. not with the way your body's still recovering, knees weak, throat raw from every choked sound he pulled from you.

when you don't respond jake stops his movement, his hips go still as he simply stares down at you with a dark look in his eyes.

you were falling apart.

his cock was deep inside you, filling you so completely you couldn't even think straight— but jake wasn't moving. he just held you there, pinned beneath him, wrists trapped against the mattress, his hips grinding slow and mean against yours.

you whimpered, hips twitching up against him helplessly, desperate for more. he smirked down at you, cruel and smug, loving the way your body shook, the way your face twisted in frustration.

"what's wrong?" he murmured mockingly, leaning in so close his lips brushed your ear. "thought you'd be tougher than this."

you rationed with yourself for a moment, were you really going to beg? yes.

you tried to twist your wrists free but his grip only tightened. "please," you gasped out, tears welling in your eyes from how badly you needed to cum. "please, jake, i need it—"

he laughed, low and sharp, and snapped his hips forward once—deep and brutal—making you cry out. but then he stilled again, ignoring your desperate whines.

"you need it?" he repeated, pretending to think. "need my cock? need me to make you cum like the stupid little whore you are?"

your cheeks burned, shame rolling through you, but you nodded frantically.

"say it," he ordered, voice dropping, rough. you squeezed your eyes shut, humiliated, but the words still poured out.

"i need your cock," you sobbed. "please jake, please—i'll do anything, i'll be good, just let me cum—"

he laughed again, so fucking satisfied with himself.

"should've thought about being good before you started running your mouth online," he muttered, dragging his cock slow and deep inside you, making you arch and cry out.

you were shaking now—your whole body burning, every nerve stretched tight and ready to snap.

"you want it that bad?" he asked casually, grinding his hips just enough to make you sob.

"yes," you choked out. "please, jake—please, i need to cum, i can't—"

he grinned wickedly and finally, finally started fucking into you hard—deep, punishing thrusts that made you see stars. your walls clung onto how dick like a suction in attempt to milk him dry.

your moans spilled out loud and wrecked, your whole body bowing off the bed.

"good girl," he murmured darkly, "you're gonna cum when i say. not a second before." you nodded frantically, not trusting yourself to speak without crying. and when he finally, finally leaned down and growled, "cum for me, slut,"

you shattered.

you came so hard you were sobbing, spasming around him, your body giving out completely under his.

jake fucked you through it, laughing under his breath, dragging every last bit of pleasure and humiliation out of you until you were left shaking and gasping for air.

and even then, he wasn't done with you yet. he hadn't cum yet, and at the end of the day that's what you were here for—to be his little cum slut.  you barely had time to breathe—your body still spasming from the orgasm he tore out of you before jake grabbed your hips and pulled you back down onto him, grinding even deeper.

you yelped, broken noises spilling out of your mouth, trying to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

"no," he snapped, voice sharp and final, one hand locking tight around your waist to keep you from moving. "you don't get to run."

your head lolled back, tears slipping down your cheeks, your body a twitching mess.

"too much," you sobbed, trembling violently.

he laughed—laughed—at your misery.

"too bad," he muttered against your ear. "you're not done." he set a brutal rhythm, fucking into you hard, fast, merciless. your thighs shook, your nails dug into the sheets, your mouth fell open in helpless, gasping cries. you could feel yourself spiraling again—pain and pleasure tangled together until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

"you think you're in control?" he grunted, slamming into you harder, making you scream. "you think you can say whatever you want about me and not pay for it?"

your whole body jolted with every thrust, the humiliation making your head spin.

"say it," he growled. "say you were wrong."

you whimpered, stubborn even now, biting down hard on your lip. he slowed down, grinding his cock against your sensitive walls in deep, deliberate circles that made you keen helplessly.

"say it," he repeated, cruel and low, "or i'll edge you until you're fucking crying."

your pride crumbled fast.

"i was wrong," you gasped out, voice cracking. he smirked, hips snapping forward again. "about what?"

you squeezed your eyes shut, shame flooding you. "about—about your dick," you choked out. "i lied, you're big—you're fucking huge—"

he chuckled darkly, like he already knew. "good girl," he breathed, voice dripping with mockery. "what else?"

you shook your head frantically, body jerking with overstimulation. he pulled almost all the way out—your cunt squeezing around nothing— before slamming back in so brutally you cried out.

"what else?" he hissed against your throat.

"i—i'm just a stupid bitch who doesn't know what she's talking about," you sobbed, face burning hot.

he laughed again, so fucking satisfied, so cruel.

"that's right," he murmured. "a stupid little whore who can't stop begging for the cock she said was too small."

you whimpered, broken, humiliated beyond repair. and still—your body clung to him, desperate for more. you realized with a sick twist in your gut that you would do anything—say anything—just to have him fuck you harder.

and jake knew it too.

he leaned down close, mouth brushing yours cruelly.

"beg," he whispered. "beg me to ruin you."

you could barely think. your body was burning, trembling, stretched tight around him— your mind a broken mess of shame and need. and still jake kept fucking you deep, rough, relentless.

his hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, your throat, your jaw—manhandling you like you were nothing more than a toy for him to use.

you whimpered when he grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him.

"beg," he ordered again, voice dark, breathless with lust. "beg me to ruin you, slut."

you shook your head at first, a broken little sob tearing from your throat. he growled low, slammed into you even harder—your back arching, a scream ripping from your lips.

"you don't get to say no," he hissed. "you wanted this." tears streamed down your cheeks, your body trembling violently.

"please," you gasped out, the word slipping before you could even think. "please jake..ruin me, use me. fuck me however you want—"

he laughed, so fucking smug, dragging his cock out slow just to make you whine. "good fucking girl," he murmured. "finally learning your place."

you babbled desperate nonsense, sobbing into the sheets, your pride shattered into dust.and jake fucked you through it all—using you like a fleshlight, pounding into you until your legs gave out, until your voice was wrecked and broken.

"this what you wanted, huh?" he sneered, slapping your ass hard enough to leave a sting. "to get fucked dumb? to get put in your place like the stupid little whore you are?"

you nodded frantically, gasping, sobbing, brain completely mush. "can't even speak anymore," he muttered, mocking. "just a cockdrunk mess." your nails clawed helplessly at the sheets, your cunt squeezing him so tight he groaned.

you felt another orgasm building—sharp, unbearable—but you were too gone to even ask permission. you just sobbed and gasped and let him take everything from you.

"yeah, that's right," he growled, voice thick with pleasure. "cum all over my cock, slut. make a fucking mess."

you shattered, your whole body convulsing around him, screaming his name like a prayer, a curse, a broken confession. and jake fucked you through it, dragging every last bit of your pride and resistance out of you, until there was nothing left but a crying, ruined mess on his cock.

you were shaking. your body was limp, wrecked, trembling under the weight of everything he made you feel.

and jake still wasn't satisfied.

he kept moving, grinding his cock deep inside your overstimulated cunt—mocking every broken sob that fell from your lips.

"what's wrong?" he said, voice dripping with fake sweetness. "too much?"

you could only whimper, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. he grabbed your face again, rough, forcing your glassy eyes to meet his.

"you wanted to run your mouth so bad," he sneered. "now you can fucking thank me." your brain barely processed the words, too fogged with shame and pleasure. he slapped your cheek lightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to snap your attention back.

"say it," he barked. "say thank you."

you whimpered, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"th-thank you," you stammered, voice barely a whisper.

he smirked, cruel and satisfied.

"louder," he ordered, snapping his hips forward viciously, making you cry out. "thank you!" you sobbed, your voice hoarse and broken.

he chuckled darkly, his hand sliding down your throat, pressing lightly just enough to make your head spin.

"thank me for ruining you," he muttered, rolling his hips slow and deep, dragging another helpless moan from your lips.

your pride was turned into ash, your mind gone.

"thank you for ruining me," you gasped out, shaking uncontrollably, completely destroyed. he groaned, clearly getting off on how ruined you were—your body slack, twitching, drooling, your cunt spasming weakly around him.

"pathetic," he muttered against your ear. "look at you." you could feel how wet and messy everything was—your thighs sticky, the sheets underneath you soaked.

and still—still—he wasn't finished.

"gonna fill you up," he rasped, voice rough with the effort of holding back. "gonna fuck you so full you'll be leaking for days."

you sobbed, the humiliation sinking deeper into your bones.

"please," you whispered, because you didn't know what else to say anymore. he grunted low in his chest, thrusting faster, chasing his release. he could feel that familiar tinge in his stomach, he was close.

"such a good little cumdump," he growled. "just a hole for me to use." you broke again, another weak orgasm rolling through your abused body.

and jake finally spilled inside you—deep, hot, filling you up exactly like he promised.

he didn't pull out immediately. he stayed pressed deep, making sure you felt every drop. when he finally did pull out, you collapsed completely, a ruined, twitching, crying mess.

and jake just chuckled, so fucking smug. running his fingers down your slit before plugging your fluttering hole, making sure that his cum stays in you for as long as it could.

"maybe next time you'll think twice before running your mouth about me," he said, releasing your wrists before he gets off the bed. he left you there, spread open, dripping, humiliated beyond repair.

and you realized with a sick twist of your gut— you liked it.

you fucking loved every humiliating second of it.

✎﹏﹏

your body aches.

not in the romantic, soft-lit, post-orgasm kind of way.

no. it's raw. it's degrading. it's embarrassing.

your legs are trembling so badly you have to lean on the sink just to stay upright. your thighs sticky, sore. your throat dry and stretched thin from the pathetic, wrecked sounds he pulled out of you.

you yank your clothes back on as fast as your shaking hands allow, muttering curses under your breath. you can't even look at yourself in the mirror. because you know what you'll see: the ruined, wrecked version of yourself jake created.

and you hate him.

you hate how smug he looks when you finally stumble back into the room—hair mussed, shirt untucked, standing like he didn't just break you open with nothing but his cock and his fucking mouth. you hate how he leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a look that says he's already won.

you hate that he was right.

and you really, really hate that you liked it.

you roll your shoulders back, force yourself to stand straight even if your body is begging you to drop.

"that what you wanted?" you rasp out, voice wrecked and scratchy. "you win. congrats. want a trophy or something?"

jake doesn't say a word. he just watches. calm. amused. smug.

and it pisses you off. burns you alive from the inside.

"you got what you wanted. you ruined my pride," you snarl, stepping closer even though your knees are ready to give. "so what now? supposed to kneel and thank you? beg you to keep ruining me?"

he cocks his head slightly, lips twitching.

you hate how unbothered he looks. you hate it so much it makes you reckless.

"you don't actually believe i meant all that, right?" you spit. "you really think i meant it when i said you're big? when i cried about how good you fucked me?"

you scoff, shaking your head with a cold, sharp laugh.

"you're pathetic. you got played because i moaned a little."

and that's when everything shifts.

because jake steps forward—smooth, controlled—grabbing your jaw so hard you gasp, slamming your back against the wall without even looking like he's trying. his face is inches from yours, breath warm, eyes dark and furious.

"still lying?" he murmurs.

your heart pounds wildly. you try to twist away but his grip on your jaw tightens, bruising.

"you begged for my cock," he hisses, thumb dragging across your trembling bottom lip. "you fucking cried for it. and you're gonna stand there and lie to my face?"

you choke on your words, humiliation pouring down your spine in cold waves.

he laughs bitterly, the sound vibrating low in his chest. "guess you really are as dumb as you look."

you flinch.

and jake leans in closer, voice dropping lower, meaner. "you wanna pretend you're still in control?" he taunts, dragging his fingers down your throat slow, almost tender. "you wanna act like you didn't cum so fucking hard you couldn't even say my name?"

you tremble.

but you don't back down—not yet. pride and fear tangled up, keeping you frozen.

he chuckles darkly.

"fine," he says, voice a low threat. "i'll remind you."

his hand snakes between your thighs, shoving your jeans down again, your underwear dragging with it, baring you completely in seconds. you gasp, struggling—but he's too strong, too fast. he grabs you by the hips, throws you onto the bed like you're weightless.

and then he's on you.

he presses your wrists to the mattress with one hand again, his weight pinning you down, his other hand roughly forcing your legs apart.

you barely have time to gasp before he's inside you again—deep, brutal, fucking the defiance out of you one savage thrust at a time.

you cry out, throat raw. he fucks you like he's furious, every slam of his hips meant to punish. "not so fucking smug now, huh?" he pants against your ear.

you whimper, broken sounds spilling out without permission.

"what happened to all that fake confidence, princess?" he mocks, rolling his hips harder, forcing your body to take every inch. "thought you said you could handle it."

you sob, writhing under him, but he doesn't let up. he leans down, dragging his teeth across your jaw, making you shudder helplessly.

"gonna make you beg again," he growls. "gonna make you say it like you fucking mean it."

you try to shake your head—but you're drowning. he's everywhere. he's everything. and no matter how much you try to cling to your pride, it crumbles between your shaking hands.

you're crying now—humiliated tears streaking down your flushed face—as he pounds into you mercilessly.

"please," you choke out, voice cracking.

he chuckles, cruel and satisfied.

"please what, baby?" he taunts, slowing his thrusts to a deep, punishing grind that makes your whole body twitch and seize.

"please," you sob again, shame burning you alive. "please let me cum."

he leans back slightly to look at you—hair a mess, eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

"you don't deserve to cum," he says, voice mocking. "whores who lie don't get rewards."

you whimper, hips stuttering against his, desperate, broken.

"but," he adds slowly, almost lazily, "if you beg real nice... maybe i'll consider it."

you sob harder, pride shattered into dust. and then—you beg.

you beg like a good little whore.

"please, jake," you cry, voice wrecked and hoarse. "i need it—i need to cum—please, please—"

he grins, dark and cruel, and finally—finally—lets you fall apart again, your body convulsing, cunt clenching around him helplessly as he fucks you through the brutal, soul-crushing orgasm. and you barely have a second to breathe before he's moving again—pulling out, grabbing your face in both hands, forcing your mouth open.

"open wide," he orders.

you're so wrecked you don't even think to disobey. you just open—lips trembling, eyes wide and glassy.

and jake leans over—spits straight into your mouth, thick and wet and humiliating.

you gag slightly, tears burning your eyes.

"swallow," he commands sharply.

you do.

you obey without even thinking.

and he smirks—grabbing his phone, flipping open the recording he just made of your pathetic begging, letting you hear it on loop while you lie there ruined, body trembling, throat raw.

he tucks his phone into his pocket, grabs your chin again, forcing you to look up at him. "remember this next time you wanna talk shit," he says, voice low and smug.

he kisses you—mocking and possessive—and leaves you there: used, wrecked, humiliated, and so thoroughly owned that you can't even pretend anymore.

jake sim ruined you and there's no taking it back.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[artvscvntymullet]

ONE LAST TIME - WILLNE

content warnings : conflict, mention of burnout, argument and alcohol cosumption

word count : 2300 words

A/N : this was in drafts for a long..long time and so i've tried my best to tweak, but it may need to undergo more editing (when i can be bothered) hope you enjoy !

masterlist here !!

You weren’t supposed to be home for another hour.

The hallway was too quiet, but not in the comforting way. There was no music playing, no stream highlights echoing from his office, no Will humming under his breath in the kitchen, just still.

You slip your shoes off. Your keys barely make a sound when they hit the bowl by the door.

Then you hear them, muffled voices — low. Will's voice, thick and hoarse around the edges. “—I dunno anymore, mate. It’s constant. Feels like I can’t even breathe without screwin’ somethin’ up.”

James answers, quieter, an answer you can’t make out.

You stop at the edge of the living room doorway. Your fingertips graze the frame, your stomach sinking.

Will’s slouched on the couch, hoodie half-off his shoulder, bottle of whisky hanging loose from his hand, the cap abandoned on the coffee table. His cheeks are red - not drunk, not yet, but flushed in that way he gets when he's trying not to cry.

James sits perched on the edge of the chair across from him, he's sober, still.

You speak before you think. “Wow.”

Will flinches and the bottle tips slightly, but he catches it clumsily before it spills.

James jolts upright. “Shit Y/N I didn’t know you were—”

“Do you mind, James?” you cut in, not looking at him. “This isn’t on you.”

James grabs his jacket without a word and you hear the door shut behind him. It clicks like punctuation.

Will stands slowly, stiff as if he’s been there for hours. “I didn’t mean for you to see it like this.”

You blink. “Like what? You talking shit about me to James? Or you drinking your way out of another bad week?”

He winces, “That’s not fair.”

“No?” You take a step into the room. “I heard you. You said I’m always there, like I'm some kind of - I don't know? An obligation, or dare I say it, a burden? Do you even begin to understand how that makes me feel Will?.”

His jaw clenches. He doesn’t say anything. His thumb brushes along the label on the bottle, like he’s trying to peel it off.

“I’ve been walking on eggshells around you for months, Will. I let the moods slide and the silent days and the convenient excuses. Because I knew you were tired, and I understood work has been brutal but I begged you to take a break. I thought, fucking hell, I actually thought you’d come back to me when you caught your breath.”

He looks up at you for the first time, and he really looks, like your voice just reached him for the first time. His eyes are glassy, the bags under them are deep.

“You think I don’t see how hard you’ve been trying to hold it together?” Your voice shakes now, heat rising in your chest. “I see it, I’ve always seen it. But somewhere in all that holding on, you let me go, you've let us go.”

He moves forward, slow and unsure, bottle still clutched like a shield. “It’s not like that.”

“Then tell me how it is, Will. Tell me why the second you hit your breaking point, you turned to James and a bottle instead of coming to me.”

His grip tightens around the glass.

“I needed to switch off,” he says, voice low, accent thicker from exhaustion. “Just for one night. Just to feel like I wasn’t bein’ judged.”

You inhale sharply. “You think I judge you?”

“No - fuck, no, not like that.” He rakes both hands through his dark mullet, bottle clinking against the table as he sets it down. “It’s just, when I’m around you, I don’t wanna be a mess. You’re the only good thing I’ve got. I'm scared that if you see me like this, you’ll leave.”

Your chest caves in and you fold your arms tight across it, just to keep from shaking.

“I saw you like this, and I stayed. Over and over, Will, but you never let yourself open up, despite my efforts, and you know I would've helped you, and listened to you. You know I'd do anything for you.”

He turns his back to you, and runs a hand down his face, sobering up. “I know.”

“You said I don’t understand.” Your voice is quieter now. “But I do. I understand more than you think. I’ve been loving a version of you who never has time, who is now a hollow man who can’t meet my eyes. Who needs me, but never wants me.”

His face twists like it physically hurts to hear you.

You don’t stop, you can't stop. Every bit of upset, and disappointment, and longing is rearing it's ugly head and you cannot stop, the feelings have been supressed for too long. “I sit next to you on the couch and feel alone. I lie in bed beside you and feel cold. I kiss you and wonder if it’s just muscle memory now.”

Will takes a shaky breath. “Don’t say that.”

Tears burn your eyes, unrelenting. “Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?”

His fists curl at his sides. “Because I never wanted to make you feel like that. Because I still love you, even if I’m shit at showing it.”

“But love isn’t supposed to hurt like this, Will.”

He steps toward you, close now - closer than he’s been in weeks. His hand hovers like he wants to reach for your cheek but doesn’t dare. “Please don’t give up on me, I need you.”

You breathe in. It catches halfway down your lungs.

“I've put my all in and only received 50%, I love you but we can't go on like this,” you whisper. “I just didn’t want to admit it.”

The silence between you is unbearable. His chest rises and falls too fast, while your fingers twitch at your sides, desperate to touch something — him, the couch, the air, anything to anchor you.

His voice cracks. “Just one more kiss. Please. Just if this is it.”

You nod once and he kisses you like he’s trying to memorise it - like maybe if he presses hard enough, you’ll stay. His hands slide into your hair, gentle and frantic. Your fingers fist in his hoodie, he tastes of whisky and grief.

When you pull away, his forehead rests against yours. “Don’t go,” he whispers, his eyes filled with tears, threatening to spill

You press your lips to his one last time, soft and final.

Then you step back, grab your bag and open the door - tears bubbling over and falling down your cheek.

And you leave, you don't slam the door - you don’t need to.

Door clicks shut, quiet follows like a ghost.

She didn’t slam it. Thought she might, thought she should’ve. Who knows? It might’ve made this easier if there’d been shouting, or thrown keys, or something. But nothing apart from that soft, final click.

That’s worse, that means it’s real.

Will stands in the middle of the room, hoodie half-off, hair a mess from pulling at it. He looks around like maybe she’s still here, like maybe this was some dream, but the apartment’s empty.

It still smells of her favourite perfume, still has her hoodie hanging off the back of the dining chair.

He almost says her name, just to break the silence. Instead, he slumps down, hard, on the edge of the sofa like someone’s knocked the wind out of him. Hands on his knees, breathing like it hurts - and it does.

The bottle’s still on the table. He pushes it away with the back of his hand, he doesn’t want it now, he never really did.

What a way to end it, hey? One night, one bottle, one shitty, pressure-choked spiral, and he couldn’t even keep it between the two of them. He had to run his mouth like she wasn’t everything he’d ever wanted.

She walked in and looked at him like he was a stranger. He didn’t recognise himself either.

She stood there with her voice breaking and her arms crossed like if she didn’t hold herself together, she’d shatter. Told him she felt alone, unwanted. Every word hit like a punch to the ribs because she was right.

He'd been spiralling for months. Tired, worn, snapping under lights and cameras and fake laughs.

But she’d never once asked him to perform, at least not with her. She never asked him to be anything but present. And still — he shut her out.

Not because he didn’t love her. Because he did, so much it was now suffocating him. Because when he looked at her, he saw something good, something whole, and he didn’t know how to hold it without fucking it up.

So he avoided it and buried it, pretended he had time to fix it later.

Later came and she was gone.

Will scrubs his hands over his face. His palms are shaking. He lets out a breath that turns into something cracked and sharp. Sits back, stares at the ceiling.

She kissed him like she already knew it was goodbye, while he kissed her like maybe he could make her stay. How could he be so blind to the feelings of the only woman he's ever loved? How could he have missed so many signs? He didn't. They were just easier to ignore.

His throat tightens. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and lets his head drop into his hands. Fingers press into his scalp like pressure might undo regret - like maybe if he pushes hard enough, he’ll stop replaying her voice over and over.

“I gave you everything.”

He doesn’t cry. Not right away, he sits there, still, stiff, silent. Then his shoulders start to shake, and it all crashes in.

[intoblonde6ftwbbplayers]

Thank God for that stupid interview

Not proof read Im sorry!! rushed ending a bit but wtv. Can be read as stand alone but part 1 is stupid interview

pairings; page x famous actress reader

Summary; flashbacks to Paige being lowk obsessed with Josephine then into the relationship up to the draft.

Warnings; none, (bad writing), they say fine shyt (bc Paige is fine shyt)

||

Paige pov:

1 year ago;

"Paige you dont even like horror movies why do you want to see this one so bad?" Kk asks but before I can respond Azzi laughs and replies for me

"She's been obsessed with the actress in it forever thats the only reason" Azzi finishes which makes everyone we're out with turn to look at me with teasing smiles and more questions about who it is.

The only reason Azzi knows exactly who is because when we were 20 she forced me to watch some crappy rom-com where I saw her for the first time. That was the first time I ever understood the appeal of a celebrity crush.

"Oh she's seen like every movie Josephine Carter has been in. It's actually insane" Azzi says

"Oh my god is that what she's always watching on her iPad smiling like crazy?" Kayla asks

"okay bro ya'll gotta shut up. Yes she's my celebrity crush but can you blame me? She's insanely hot and a good person. Like bro come on half the people in the theater probably are here for the same reason I am"

"Yeah thats true I looked her up you're right Paige she's fine" Kayla says turning the phone to show the group of us in line for popcorn.

A litany of damns and I see you Paige followed from the group as they all smiled as Paige got visibly red.

"Aight now that y'all know im right 'nd shit how 'bout we turn around 'cause we're up next in the line"

6 months ago;

"Bro that movie was so good oh my god"

"Paige you just liked it because she wore a practically skin tight suit the entire time" Kk says laughing at me

"Nah the plot was so good bro like come on"

"Mhm WE know the plot was good but I looked over at you a couple times during the movie and you were locked out on the plot" Ice says

"OH MY GOD she looked like that TikTok sound thats like blah blah proper names place names backstory stuff" Azzi says laughing

"Okay maybe you guys are right but I payed attention to most of the movie. Not my fault she's so fine"

3 months ago;

"Ok so boom! I brought trufru for you Paige!" Kk says when she enters my room where we're all hanging out

I barely even register her though because im scrolling on my phone and am currently on a search rabbit hole of Josephine Carter clips and edits. I feel a dip in the part of the bed next to me and know it's Kk that just threw herself onto my bed with Azzi and Carol.

"Watching edits of yo bae?" Kk ask me looking over my shoulder

"Im deep into this search rabbit hole"

"P you've been starring at your phone like a little kid at Christmas for 20 minutes" Azzi says

"yeah whatever" I say as I switch back to my fyp with Kk still looking over my shoulder. But even when I switch back every other video is an edit or clip of Josephine

"BRO SHE'S ALL OVER HER FYP TOO" Kk says

the night of the interview;

I watched the interview live obviously, I always do.

She knows me. The Josephine Carter said she watches women's basketball and that she likes uconn.

"SHE KNOWS WHO I AM"

everyone in the room turns to look at me confused.

"Paige who or what are you talking about?" Jana asks confused

"Josephine Carter... SHE DID THIS INTERVIEW AND SAID SHE WAS A FAN OF US OF UCONN OF ME LOOK OH MY GOD"

I hand them my iPad for them to watch for themselves and quickly grab my phone and open TikTok where people already started tagging me in clips of her.

"OOOO P looks like you're her favorite for the same reason she's yours!" azzi says smiling at me

"This is actually the greatest day of my life"

Today;

I see her name pop up on Kk's phone requesting to be on live. Oh my god oh my god ohmyogd this isn't real I mean I know she's a fan after last night but she's actually a fan if she's on our live right now. I can feel myself blushing so hard knowing she's watching me and I cant do anything to stop it.

Kk added her to the live and I tried to talk but no words come out, she's so beautiful and her voice and her sense of humor everything about her is so perfect I forgot how to speak a couple times.

She leaves the live and goes to walk her dog but I see she followed both me and Kk on instagram. We immediately follow her back and I dm her.

Suddenly I have this new found confidence now that I remember I actually have rizz.

'So im fine shyt?'

its lighthearted because kk practically exposed me on live on how obsessed with her I am but she also exposed herself last night on the tonight show so I think we're pretty even right now.

25 minutes later I get a reply. not that I was counting how long it had been or anything.

'ok bro u know ur fine shyt or u wouldn't be talking like this'

'nah but srsly u comin to a game or what?'

'I want to but honestly id only go to the final four game'

'so what ur sayin is that if I win a natty I can finally see u in person?'

'yeah thats the requirement'

'alr but if ima be winning a whole championship JUST to see you then your gonna let me take you out after'

'ill go out with you. but only if you win'

'oh ima win the natty...then the girl'

Josephine pov:

ive officially died and gone to heaven because there's no way the finest woman ive ever seen is talking about wanting to take me out on a date after winning herself the championship her team deserves.

There's actually no fucking way.

time skip to sweet 16 game;

Me and Paige have texted non-stop. We FaceTime everyday multiple times a day and fall asleep while on the phone too. We've been talking since the end of February and I really want to see her.

Over the course of us talking these past weeks ive also become well aquainted to her teammates / best friends. I get along with them and we reply to each other stories now and everything.

That's why I asked Azzi if it would be crazy to buy tickets to see the Sweet 16 game. She said it was a great idea and even insisted I take her extra court side ticket so I could have a good view. She made a joke about how I wear contact and that my prescription was so strong that even with them on I still wouldn't be able to see Paige from any other seat. She kinda had me there.

Paige didn't see me at first. She was so locked in and was playing so good. It was insanely hot watching her in her element. Obviously Ive watched her play over the year of watching Uconn but seeing it in person is a whole different thing.

At halftime Azzi told me to go to the tunnel so there I was standing when Paige came back out from the locker room by Azzi pushing her. Paige was about to complain and say something but the second she saw me she instantly dropper her attitude with Azzi and gave me the biggest hug ever.

"you came?"

"I had nothing better to do on a Tuesday night then see my favorite teams game"

"I dont even know what to say im so glad you're here and that I get to see you're pretty face in person finally"

"My pretty face? Paige you look so good when you're locked in, it should be illegal"

Paige laughed lightly at my comment then tells me she's gotta get back but that we'll talk after. She says something about having to turn it up a notch now that she knows her girl is here making me and Azzi, who's been waiting to say hi to me herself, laugh. I hug Paige goodbye and then say a quick bye to Azzi as well before going back to my seat.

Paige really does turn it up and end up with a new career high at the end of the night. 19 points in like 5 minutes before she gets subbed out because they're so ahead. Woah. Obviously she's Paige Bueckers. Talented, Amazing, Passionate, but tonight was a whole different level and it was incredible.

Later she finds me and we all go out with the team to celebrate their win. A few of them bring their girl friends too who I meet and really end up liking Aubrey girlfriend. We all party and have fun until Paige came back to the booth where I was sitting with Ice, Carol, Kk, and Azzi, we were all tired from dancing and our feet were hurting by now.

"Hey ma you having fun?" Paige asks me putting her dirty Shirley down to slide into the both next to me.

"Yeah but my shoes were just making my feet hurt so I had to sit down" I say glaring down at my feet

"c'mere" she said grabbing my feet and putting them in her lap then using her hands to rub soothing circles into my legs

the rest of the night was like that mostly. Paige didn't have to do anything the next day and I had an open 2 weeks until I started filming in Dallas for 10 months for a new movie.

We played in bed and doordahsed some wingstop and talking about everything from how proud I am of her for her 40 points to how draining it can be to pack up my life for months at a time having to restart with every project I do.

timeskip to draft (im so lazy sorry guys);

They won. Uconn finally got their storybook ending and more importantly my lovey amazing girlfriend Paige Bueckers got hers. Now we're here at the draft sitting at her table with her family. I thought the purple set was bad but when she came out in the all black suit I knew I was done for. The DEEP slit has me salivating to the point where im sure people at home have already clipped the way im practically eye fucking her right now but can you blame me?

She;s going to go as first pick in the draft. FOR THE DALLAS WINGS. to say im so excited is an understatement. The second her name got called our plan solidified. I was going to be living in Dallas for at least the next 10 months for a movie am going to start soon. But my agent called saying that they want me to do a series that got picked up. Which is also filmed in Dallas. Adding a year to my timeline. At first I was scared to tell Paige I was going be moving to Dallas Texas.

My lease for my apartment in New York was almost up so It's the perfect time right now. But since she will officially be living out there now too. It ended up working out perfectly.

Paige pov;

Me and Josephine are both moving to Dallas. I can help but think god has had the way I feel right now planned out for me. After everything I;ve endured. The way I feel right now is worth it. National Champion with my best friends in the world, #1 pick in the draft just like ive always dreamed, and moving to a new city would have been a bit sad compared to alll this but my girlfriend has to move there too. I cant help but Thank God for that stupid interview.

||

sorry for the rushed ending I lowk lost motivation but hope you guys enjoyed!

Im thinking about writing an actual series soon so lmk if u have any idea for it in the comments

athletic trainer reader?? Hopkins P?? Lmk!!

[s-talking]

⌘ 𝓞𝓞𝓒:

B O O !

got you, didn't i? lmao

so i'm back & honestly never-minding the reason why i was gone ( since it's the very same one as mentioned in my january post ), i will instead talk about changes happening on my blog. first of all, the art! my ancient divider has been finally re-drawn & brand new icons added, why, just look at them! especially that beautiful, beautiful cursed smile

he can totally be your angle

or yuor devil xDDDD * wheezes *

second of all, posts! i've actually been drafting inspirational aesthetics as well as replying to responses whenever i was able, so yes, writing with you guys has never really left my mind despite the rather lengthy absence. i will be posting them all bit by bit & also, on similar note, for the sake of my creative spark i will be dropping all the starters i've written but have not been replied to for months ( by dash-active muns ). those who are on hiatus or not really role-playing, however, are fine.

if you happen to be someone that the starter-drop includes but still wish to reply, please do reach out to me. i may consider continuing that particular post depending on whether i remember my plot for it or not.

third of all, following! i've just went through a little spring cleaning & cleaned-up blogs that have been completely inactive for many years, archived, or didn't share any incentive for us to write / generally interact for months on end ( even when i was pretty active myself ). if you are reading this, that means i will be either posting a reply or reaching out very soon ♥

also, if you have unfollowed me due to inactivity as of late, don't feel bad. it's all good. i understand that blogs on perpetual semi-hiatus are not everyone's cup of tea, so if at any point you change your mind & wish to follow back, feel free. just know that my spots of inactivity are sadly out of my hands & not due to disinterest or something similar. again, refer to the january post if you don't know the reason.

& last but not least, i just wanna say thank you to those that messaged me during my break & left me such kind, supportive messages ( including the birthday ones! ) you have no idea how much it means to me, especially during this time. i honestly, from the bottom of my heart, cherish them. as to those who are either new or didn't much chance to connect, know that i'm always excited to start new things or pick up those we already have. i can't express how much i adore writing with others & make all sorts of stories, let them be dark or light-hearted.

so either way, thanks for the wait ♥

[sharksnshakes]

Matchmaker! Steve Rogers

You've been friends with Steve Rogers for a while now, and he just knows that you'll be a fantastic fit. It's not like he's actively trying to find his best friend, Bucky Barnes, a romantic partner, but he's not not trying to. And hey, who would he be to look a gift horse in the mouth?

If only Steve would take a step back and realize that the warm, fuzzy feeling he's getting in his chest isn't because he's playing matchmaker, but rather because he's the one with the crush on you.

[crystallizsch]

ouagh yuusha i miss youuu

[walkingstackofbooks]

You know when you read back your writing and you're like man, this is actually good???

Editing the next bit of Garak in Vision Awry and I remember that scene as being fiendishly difficult to get through, at times every word feeling like a chore.

And now I'm like -- but this feels like Garak and Julian. it flows! It makes sense as a conversation! And yeah, there's no point to this really but I am just very excited to share it and hope other people might feel the same and just like... feelingsssss.

Also like every time I write Garak&Bashir I'm like "nope not again for a while this is too hard, not for me" and then reading it back I'm like "but i love them though this is so fun" and so... idk. i'm just rambling. But this has made me think I might actually try and continue that second Garashir prompt I have sitting in my drafts rather than carrying out my plan to post it as-is unfinished as a "no i'm sorry this isn't for me but i did try" thing...

[3amsnek]

new icon time bc the moment we hit double digits on the halloween countdown my brain genuinely straight up forgot it was still summer

[meirimerens]

i'll write it down so hopefully i don't have to walk anyone else through that for the twelfth time since i've had this blog it's been a Long Time Comin especially since a previous version of this has been in da drafts since 2021 i'm also going to try to be as loving and like clear and concise (i am Not mad this is is not a Mad post i'm not sure how the tone will come across because. it's a poast innit but i'm just trying to be. at the very least informative)

i promise you that the homosexual blogger who has a homosexual headcanon about a character whose interactions with the opposite gender can be read as entirely platonic and even demeaning in ways Does Not need to be told on their own blog, in which they extensively share their art or writing or discussions about thinking of this character as homosexual, after they haven't asked, that you personally think that character likes the opposite gender (too) actually. they know. they do know. most people think most characters like the opposite gender. most people think most living people do.

you are within your god-given rights to make your own posts and your own writings and your own arts and talk about it when asked it's a free fucking website babeeyy and to associate and discuss between people who share the same headcanon as you do dearly and heartily but i Promise, I Promise you no homosexual with their homosexual headcanons for characters whose interactions with the opposite sex can be read as completely devoid of romance needs to be reminded, when they didn't ask, that you don't see it that way. they've seen it around. they've been around. we've seen it. we know.

[scarlet-bee]

[Plain text:

Wheel of Saw traps

Spin the wheel here

Are you surviving your test?

End plain text.]

WHEEL OF SAW TRAPS

Spin the wheel here

[winter-spark]

SSR Family Event in a Nutshell

Itaru: Alright so my sister's getting married and I need to get her a good gift, ideas?

Izumi: You should invite her to the next Spring Play! I mean you'll be the lead.

Itaru: No way.

Sakuya: You really respect your sister, huh?

Itaru: Yea but don't tell her that.

Sakuya: (I think he should invite her to the play.)

Masumi: You sure you don't want to invite her to the play?

Itaru: Surprised you care, but yea no. Absolutely not inviting her.

Chikage: So your gift?

Itaru: Picked out I just need to pick it out & send it to...

Itaru: So she already has one coming. So I still need a great gift. I don't want to just give her money... Citron?

Citron: I can say with absolute confidence, you should invite her to the play. It'll mean a lot.

Itaru: ...Alright.

Itaru: Everyone I've decided to invite my sister to the play. And as special thanks to Citron for this, I want him to have a special role in it.

[exopelagic]

I know the world is cruel because I finally wanna draw again and yet I am forced to pack :(

[hwaflms]

HAPPY NOW? ★ [ j.jh ]

your family has been pressuring you for months to bring your boyfriend, jaehyun, over for dinner, and you think it’s really sweet that they like him so much. the only problem is that your “boyfriend” jaehyun, hates you.

———————————————————————

[☆] PAIRING. ex!jaehyun x f!reader

[☆] GENRE. angst, smut, fluff | fake dating?, exes to ??? au

[☆] WC. 19.9k (i don’t even know)

[☆] WARNINGS. angst, reader has anxiety, mentions of anxiety attacks, fighting, reader be lying a lot, reader has a little sister, crying, reader is kind of a dumbass, explicit content (piv smut), unprotected sex (don’t do this gang!), fingering, sex in public kinda, pls lmk if i forgot anything!!

[☆] NOTES. i’m so fucking annoyed with tumblr it’s not letting me insert images properly UGH this took me over 2 hours to upload man 🗣️ im pretty proud of this one ‼️ idek how it got this long but it’s my longest fic yet and it’s been sitting in my drafts for ages until i finally got the inspo to write it :p i want jaehyun so bad it’s not even funny tbh but anyway PLS GIVE ME FEEDBACK/A REBLOG LITERALLY ANYTHING IS APPRECIATED <33

———————————————————————

six months.

you haven't seen this door in six months.

it's funny because, this was a door you used to push open and walk through every other day, yet now you stand on the opposite side of it, unsure as to whether you should even be thinking of knocking.

your hand is raised to the door, shaped like a fist but you make no move to actually knock. you were aware that you still had time to bail out of this, that you could turn on your heel and make your merry way back to your sad little house and go back to pretending you're happy with the choice you made six months ago.

or you could just do what you came all the way here to do.

the weather seems to be in your favour, at least. the sun shines radiantly, making the temperature warm, but not too warm, and a cool breeze travels through the air in short intervals. the summer had begun early, birds chirping in their habitual singsong way and wild bougainvillea already flowering in various shades of pink and lilac. usually when the day starts off with good weather, the rest of it follows suit, and thus your day is made better. hopefully, this is the case for you today.

pausing for a short, morale-boosting intake of air, you tighten your fist and knock, knock, knock on the mahogany door, immediately regretting your decision as you feel your stomach churn and plummet. a good ten seconds pass, and you hear no reply nor movement from the inside of the house, and part of you is relieved because that means he may not be home.

more than happy to do a 180° and skip along joyously back to the metro that would take you home, your feet begin to make for that trip but your mind decides against it. you know that you are being overly dramatic, but even with being aware of this, your heart rate does not slow down one bit. you also know that what you've come here to do is more than just selfish, its pathetic and rather embarrassing. it's also a hugely unsavoury request, and if your roles were reversed, you'd most definitely laugh in his face and shut the door.

finally somewhat making up your mind with a quiet groan, you raise your clenched fist and rap against his front door again in a set of three. you nervously shift your weight from your right to your left foot, then back to your right and then once again to your left, the anxiety and anticipation not allowing you to stand still and relax, thinking that if he doesn't answer this time, you really will just return home.

"hold on, i'm coming!", a hurried, muffled voice calls from inside the house and you don't think your heart has ever beaten this fast in your life. not even during the one time you ran a marathon to prove a point to your friend chenle, and while you did show him that you didn't only run to get away from spiders, your body took its own sweet time to recover from that.

now you hear footsteps approaching the door from the opposite side of it, and you don't think you can handle anymore of this tortuous, build up of a wait because you are quite literally one step away from calling it a day and just sprinting your way out of there, just like you did on the last few metres of the aforementioned marathon, and you know he's nearing the door because the footsteps are getting clearer and clearer, and soon he's going to open the door, take one look at you and just slam the door right in your face, but not before spewing verbal explosives at you, which would be totally deserved since he has every right to just spit on you and tell you how you're a terrible, downright horrible human being completely unworthy of forgiveness and-

"sorry for making you wait so long, i was-"

if your heart rate was at its maximum speed before, now it just stopped.

standing in front of you, in the flesh, was the man who's heart you broke six months ago.

jaehyun had just about opened his door in a way that his body was sticking halfway out of it, but he was now frozen in that position, neither in nor out, just stuck there looking like he was contemplating his next move. he adorned a loose, white shirt that clung to his defined shoulders and chest, paired with a pair of red plaid pants with a patch of some different material stitched just above where his knee was. you'd recognise those pants just about anywhere, having worn them a number of times and being the cause of that strange patch with mismatched material (you'd tried to balance a pot of steaming hot ramen on your knee in order to move something, resulting in it causing a burn in the pant).

his attire tells you that he was either just about to eat breakfast, in the process of eating breakfast, or about to finish breakfast; jaehyun was not an early riser and he liked to take his time getting ready for the day.

apart from his slightly changed hair, jaehyun looks the same as he did before, if not better. his once shorter, straight, brown hair, was now a darker kind of black and longer in a silky, mullet-y, layered sort of way, the mullet part stopping just above where his shirt met his neck and the front bits falling on to his face in thin, soft wisps.

everything about the man was captivating and entrancing, but if you had to pick a specific feature that really takes the cake, it would have to be his eyes. his eyes, deep-set and fierce, always gave the impression that he was cold or unapproachable, whereas in reality, he was the opposite. as striking as they may be, they always carried a certain warmth to them.

while they still held the same intensity to them, the warmth was missing as he looked straight at you now. after the brief moment of confusion when he first opened the door dissipated, the familiarity had sunk in, and his expression now was more or less unreadable, but you still tried to make out what he was thinking and feeling- was it shock? anger? maybe even disgust?

"okay, are you going to just stand there or are you going to say something?"

you think it was largely a combination of the last two. in all your fidgeting and gawking, you'd forgotten to actually speak to the man who's door you'd just knocked on, leaving him standing there wordless and confused, an eyebrow raised as he waited for you to open your mouth.

you try to do so, so many words wanting to tumble out your mouth but an invisible gate seems to block it, so now you're just stood still with your mouth opening and closing soundlessly, looking like an idiot.

c'mon y/n, fucking say something, anything-

"how have you been?", is what you decide to go with to break the silence in the end, an awkward smile plastered on to your face. you realise before the sentence is even fully out of your mouth that that would be a really weird thing to start off with, seeing as you and jaehyun have had absolutely zero contact for six months, and are obviously not on the most wonderful terms.

jaehyun's eyebrows furrow, a look of clear disbelief on his face as he clutches his door handle a little tighter. he looks away with a sarcastic smile, shaking his head before turning back to look you dead in the eye. oh, he's going to slam the door on you, you just know it-

"really? 'how have you been'?", he questions incredulously, licking his bottom lip while an exasperated smile plays at them. funnily enough, his response is somewhat relieving to your pitiful self, because you weren't even expecting to hear a reply to what you said, you figured he'd just walk away. you would've. "we haven't seen each for six months since we broke up and 'how have you been' is the best you've got?"

you wince apologetically and bite your lip, playing with your fingers nervously as he quite literally stares you down, irritation written all over his face.

he waits a couple more beats for you to break the tense silence and speak but you are inwardly (and outwardly) struggling to word your thoughts, so he simply scoffs and backs away to return inside.

"okay wait, i didn't tell my family that we broke up and they keep pressuring me to bring you home for the holidays, so i would really like if you'd pretend you don't hate me and come with me."

you don't even want to open your eyes to witness his reaction to your blurted little confession, so you merely stand, frozen in place with your eyes squeezed shut tightly. a couple seconds pass yet you don't hear a door slam, a good sign, so you take that as an affirmative to open your eyes.

he doesn't say anything, or do anything either really, he just leans against his doorframe with another indecipherable expression. this irks you even though you know you have no right to feel irked, but the fact that you once had the ability to know what he was thinking and now don't bothers you to the core. plus, it leaves you feeling unsure as to whether to continue. he might just start laughing at you manically or angrily tell you to get off his property like some bitter, 60-year-old man, and either of these scenarios would be completely fair of him to do.

the heavy realisation that your request sounded absolutely delusional and conceited dawns upon you, and something about his irksome expression makes you feel like you should keep talking. "you have literally every right to just tell me to fuck off, and i don't even expect an answer, i don't really know why i even came here, oh my god- this is so fucking stupid, i'm so fucking stupid and honestly i don't know why you're still standing here listening to me ramble-"

"i need to get ready then. give me ten minutes."

✧ ──────── ✧ ──────── ✧

the front door you're stood at now holds a very different ambience to the previous one. while jaehyun's was quiet and peaceful, the front door to your parents house reveals that the inside is just bustling with activity. the chorus of kate bush's 'running up that hill' plays faintly from behind the door, so you figured that your dad must have brought out his old record player from the dusty attic.

jaehyun stands beside you, hands shoved into the pockets of his light grey hoodie that you feel he must be boiling in, because you're wearing a black tank top with some loose cargoes that you think you might have drenched with sweat.

the sweat would be from the burning heat, but also from the agitation you're really starting to feel. there are so many different ways this dinner could go. what if jaehyun suddenly tells them the truth? then everyone in the room would hate you, and rightly so. you don't want to have to explain to your parents why you broke up with him; it's a stupid fucking reason, if you can even call it that, and it made you completely miserable. how were you supposed explain to your little sister that you and jaehyun aren't together anymore? you suppose relationships are a totally foreign concept to her young mind, but you were sure that she knew you and jaehyun loved each other very much. and you knew she loved jaehyun very much.

he does not look at you, instead choosing to really focus on the christmas themed welcome mat that your parents put out during the winter of '09 and never bothered to change. how he even agreed to come here with you, you don't know, but to say you're grateful would be an understatement.

"you still have time to back out, you know.", you mumble softly, trying to give him one more chance to escape, but he doesn't even spare you a glance, shaking his head and squinting at the door.

"let's just get this over with."

with a small sigh, your raise your hand to press your parents doorbell, the embarrassingly loud 'ding dong' ringing out from behind the door. "oh, that must be her!", you hear the muffled voice of your father speak from the inside, making a slight smile form on your lips.

within a couple seconds, you hear the sound of the muted metal bolt as your dad struggles to open the door to let you in. a grunt of "this damn door..." makes both you and jaehyun release short giggles, and you peek over at jaehyun to see his lips curl upwards into a smile, a small one but it's still breathtakingly pretty . he clears his throat and it's gone in a flash, but the image doesn't leave your mind, and you're still seeing it when your dad finally manages to open the door. "i really need to start using the new lock", he mutters, shifting his eyes to you with a big grin, leaving against the doorframe with his arms folded. "hello, sweetheart."

you chuckle and throw your arms around him, squeezing him a little as he laughs and pats your back in return. releasing you, he turns to jaehyun with a smile, who promptly sticks his hand out politely. "hello, mr. l/n, long time no see."

your dad ignores his hand, throwing his head back with a gruff laugh. "what's with all the formalities, come here, son.", and with that he gives jaehyun a hug as well, a slightly shorter one albeit, but a hug nonetheless. the word 'son' repeats in your mind like an echo, sounding more and more distorted the longer you focus on it. you can't even begin to think of what was going through jaehyun's mind. this was not your brightest idea.

you notice your mom waiting by the door with her hands behind her back, eyes bright and shiny. "hi, mom.", you beam, and she laughs cheerily, opening her arms for you to run into, which you do. she presses numerous kisses to the crown of your head, making you groan lightheartedly and try to escape her hold, but it only tightens. "oh, how i've missed you."

"i missed you too, mom.", you say but she's already let you go and is making a bee line for jaehyun with her arms open, who falls into the hug so readily and comfortably. "i may have missed you, y/n, but i missed jaehyun ten times more.", she jokes, pinching jaehyun's cheeks affectionately.

jaehyun is turning bright red, but he has a toothy grin on his face, a real one, you can tell. his eyes travel the front room where all of you are stood with a nostalgic smile, having not seen it or your parents in over six months. you watch as they look from the various photo frames hung up on the wall alongside the staircase, to the curtains that they recently changed, finally landing on the record player thay was sitting on the table. "wow, mr. l/n, where did you get this?", jaehyun asks, and you wonder whether he's trying to make conversation or if he's genuinely curious. you think it may be the second one.

while him and your dad engage in small talk about his record player, you turn to your mom to ask of the whereabouts of your little sister, and as if on cue, you hear an excited squeal from the top of the stairs. all four heads turn to see your sister bounding down the stairs hurriedly, paying no mind to your mom's strained shout of "careful!".

"y/n!", she piped, finally reaching the bottom of the stairs and running straight to you, wrapping her arms around your legs. she barely reaches your hip so her hug is really just her face pressed into your thigh with her arms squeezing your legs together, while you pat the top of her head.

somehow managing to pry her off of your legs, you kneel and give her a proper hug in return, now happy that you made the decision to come home for a bit of your holiday. she lets go and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and jutting her hand out to you, urging you to take it.

you smile and furrow your eyebrows with confusion but you take the paper anyway, opening it as carefully as you could so as to not tear it anywhere. smoothing it out flat on your knee, you're greeted with a drawing; two people stand holding hands under a deep blue sky, a large yellow sun shining in one corner along with some "birds" that are really just little 'v's scribbled in black. they're stood on a beach, at least you think they are because there are two shades of blue on the paper, one of them probably being the blue hue of the ocean.

you assume the two people are you and your sister, since one of them has shorter, shoulder length hair and is miniscule compared to the other person, who's hair length and height are similar to yours.

you hold the picture to your chest and pull your sister in for another heartfelt hug, kissing her temple. "is this us?", you ask her, pointing at the two people in the drawing. she gives you a proud nod in return, taking the picture from your hands and holding it in front of her face. "yup! the big girl is you and the small girl is me! we're gonna go swimming.", she informs you, flashing you the toothiest of smiles. "thank you, it's perfect.", you tell her, ruffling her hair a little as she hands you the drawing back.

she clearly doesn't appreciate that, because she whines and swats your hands away, but soon her eyes focus on something behind you and they enlarge, the second excited squeal of the day emerging from her lips. "jae!", she just about screams, completely abandoning you in favour of running off to jaehyun, who has a wide smile on his face and looks equally as happy as her. he scoops her up in his arms and lifts her in front of his face, doing a little spin as peals of laughter escape her.

he finally puts her down but she holds on to his hand, looking at the male with absolute adoration. "hi, cutie.", he boops her nose affectionately to which she giggles, turning to look at you. "you didn't tell me jaehyun was coming!"

"i wasn't sure if he could make it", you reply to her honestly, looking at jaehyun as you speak because only the two of you know what you really mean by that. he holds your eye contact for perhaps a millisecond longer than he did before, but again, it was gone in a flash. he clears his throat a little and straightens up, rocking back on his heels.

sensing a shift in the air but mistaking it for some form of awkwardness, your mother shoos the rest of your family away in the direction of the kitchen. "they probably want to freshen up together, let's let them do that."

once they're gone, it feels like you can finally release your breath, truly seeing this situation going wrong in so many ways. they don't suspect anything yet, but how much longer until they eventually connect the dots? or what if they don't even need to do that, because jaehyun only agreed so he could embarrass you by telling them the whole story? you don't acknowledge the tense silence until jaehyun speaks up. "can i use the guest bathroom? still the second door on the right, yeah?"

you don't respond immediately because you're processing the fact that he still remembers these minute details. you also realise he's only asking because he doesn't want to share your bathroom with you, and that clears your thoughts up a little. you nod in affirmation and he begins climbing up the stairs, and you wait until you hear he's reached the upstairs landing before you move.

it's so tense. the last time you were in this house with jaehyun, you had taken a short road trip to get there. you say road trip, but it was just a couple hours long, but the playlist you and jaehyun had curated said otherwise. you arrived at the house and everyone was all smiles, your parents just happy to have you home and happy to see him as well. you think that part's just as hard as thinking about the two of you together. the fact that your slightly judgemental parents adored him, your little sister looked at him with stars in her eyes– you had lucked out in every department, and you were always aware of it, the joint guilt you felt from breaking it off and lying to your parents really getting to you now.

you swore that after this was over, you would apologise to jaehyun and finally break the truth to your parents.

finishing off in the bathroom, you step out into the hall, only to bump straight into jaehyun. backing up awkwardly, you both try to get past each but keep going in the same direction, resulting in a bunch of 'sorry–'s and 'wait– just–'s being blurted out by the two of you. finally getting past you, he doesn't look back at you again, just walking down the stairs mumbling something about "they're waiting...".

wincing, you make your way down the stairs as well, arriving at the living room to see your mom standing beside your dad with an excited expression on her face. you approach with caution, noting that your dad has his hands behind his back. "so...", your mother starts, raising her shoulders a little out of anticipation. "since we haven't seen the two of you in a while...we got you some presents! nothing too grand but..."

"mom, it's not even christmas", you whine, ready to argue with them because you feel bad that whatever they got was still overpriced, but your mother shakes her head, urging your dad to reveal the presents. "just take a look first..."

in one hand he holds a small, white box, no bigger than his palm, and your mom picks it up, holding it out to you. the print on the box is small and typewriter-like, the material it's made out of just screaming fancy. you narrow your eyes at your parents but take the box in your hand anyway, pushing it open. inside, it reveals maybe the prettiest necklace you've seen; dainty and silver, the chain is simple but it's the pendant that's the real charm– it's an uncut stone of some kind, a pale, translucent white crystal that's pretty much shapeless but it's wrapped in this thin silver wire that forms little loops and hearts over the stone and it makes it so alluring.

"it's a seaglass necklace", your mom speaks, taking the necklace out of its box for you and inclining her head for you to turn around. you're now facing jaehyun, who looks curiously at the new piece of jewellery with the faintest of smiles on his face. pushing your hair to the side, your mother places the necklace around your neck and clasps it (though it takes her a while, squinting and looking at the necklace hook from every angle because she forgot to wear her reading glasses). she leads you to the mirror by the entrance of the hall so you could get a better look at the necklace hanging on top of your collarbones, reaching up to touch it. "you remember? from that lady who owned the fancy place by the beach last summer?"

you do remember. that was the first trip jaehyun had joined you and your family for, under the suggestion of your little sister. when you brought up the fact that jaehyun was going back home to see his parents a little later than he had anticipated, your sister immediately asked if he would want to come with all of you, who were heading to the beach in a day or two for a little family getaway. and much to your surprise, your parents were very warm to the idea of jaehyun accompanying the lot of you. he must have severely impressed them the first time he met them, bringing a bouquet of flowers for your mother and a hearty bottle of whiskey for your dad– it's like he had won their hearts before he had even stepped inside the house.

of course, he had met them a couple more times again after that, but your parents had never raised any issues about your then boyfriend. your dad had claimed that he wanted jaehyun to come along so he could "keep an eye on him" and "see how he treats you in front of us", but you knew all too well he just wanted someone to talk to about his interest in sound systems. the trip had gone so smoothly, so perfectly and you think that it had planted the seeds of doubt in your mind about your relationship.

the position of the window and sun allowed for the light to bleed on to half of your face, the necklace glinting under the rays as you stood in front of the mirror and surveyed it. the last couple drops of the golden hour sun slipped through the windowpane and painted your skin like it was a canvass and the necklace was the cherry on top. you were radiant, and the look in jaehyun's eyes told you that he knew it too. when your eyes meet in the mirror, it's like he tears his eyes away from you, forcing himself to look at his shoes.

snapping out of your soon-to-be miserable thoughts, you fix a smile on to your face so as to not seem ungrateful, turning to hug your mother. "i love it", and you really do, knowing that you wouldn't be wearing a single other piece of jewellery for the next couple months.

jaehyun stands in the doorway soundlessly, just taking in the scene. he had always told you that he wished his family was as close and tight-knit as yours, but due to his dad always being away on some business trip or another and his mother having her own job to attend to, it resulted in a lot of time spent by himself.

you think that might be way he slotted right in with the rest of you, from the very first meet, because his desire to belong worked very well with your family's lively, chaotic home, which welcomed him right away. this was the main reason why couldn’t bring yourself to tell your family that you had broken up him mercilessly. they wouldn’t blame you of course, but you know everyone would be immensely disappointed when they realised that he hadn’t even done anything wrong in the first place; he was so good to you, and they just wanted to see you happy.

while your mom cooed at how pretty the necklace looked on you, your dad faces jaehyun with a wide grin on his face. "you didn't think we'd forget about you, did you?"

he probably wasn't expecting anything for himself, because you weren't either, so you and jaehyun simultaneously furrow your eyebrows. "oh, mr. l/n, you didn't have to–", he starts but your father is quick to cut him off, waving his hands. "what nonsense. of course we had to get you something, it's no big deal", he tries to appear nonchalant but the smile that creeps on to his face is a telltale sign that it is, in fact, a big deal. "besides, if you're family to y/n, you're family to us."

it's as if someone just stuck a large knife into you, the pang you just felt in your stomach. you can't even begin to think about what must be going through jaehyun's head, because even he can't hide the way his eyes soften at your dad's words. watching your sister spring up from the couch, she runs behind your father and plucks whatever he was holding out of his hands, now revealed to be a medium-sized bag. "i wanna give it to jaehyun!", with that, she's running over to him with the toothiest smile plastered on her cheeks, holding the bag out to jaehyun with stretched arms.

he ruffles her hair just like you did, but she makes absolutely zero complaints as he does it– if anything she's revelling in it. this makes you want to scoff, but you smile instead without thinking about it, taking a couple steps away from the mirror and towards them. "are you gonna open it or should i take it back to the store?", your dad jokes and jaehyun chuckles quietly while you don't even bother forcing a laugh, and he takes the bag from your sister's hands, mumbling a soft 'thank you'.

from where you're standing, you can't see what's inside the bag, but you can see jaehyun's eyes widen when he looks inside and back up at everyone. "me and mrs. l/n, i can't take this."

"of course you can", your mother tuts in response, dismissing him with her hand. "if i recall correctly, you had said something about your airpods not working properly?"

realisation dawns on your face when jaehyun pulls the shiny headphones from the bag, turning them over in his hand. "i think i did mention it, yeah...", he nods, eyes scanning over the clear box he holds. you remember that only one of his airpods would function properly, the other deciding whenever it wanted to do its job. you didn't realise your parents remembered, as well. "but these are so expensive, i can't–"

"do you like them or not?", your dad asks, shrugging his shoulders. jaehyun's quick to nod, "yes, i love them but–"

"then end of story." your father's not hearing anyone out, even going so far as to cover his ears jokingly when jaehyun opens his mouth again. after your sister tugs on his pant leg and urges him to try them out, jaehyun slips them over his ears, whipping his phone to connect them to it. he thought it was too expensive to try fixing his airpods so he resorted to listening with just the one ear in, or using your headphones till you broke up.

by the look on his face, they work just fine, and he couldn't be happier. a wide smile is pressed on his face, a real one that doesn't even drop when he makes eye contact with you. you smile back at him slowly, but he doesn't look away immediately, slowly turning to look at your parents. "i don't know what to say. thank you."

you'd had a couple boyfriends before, not none as close to your family as jaehyun had been. none of your previous relationships had lasted very long and you could never pinpoint the exact reason why, you just knew at some point that you had to break it off. your mother always thought that this was a result of your first ever relationship, the first and last man that ever dumped you. it crushed you at the time, though you were able to power through, but since then, relationships were never your strong suit. change seemed promising when you met jaehyun through a mutual friend, however. he was kind, he was smart and he was genuine, three traits that you didn't typically see in guys you dated, but you didn't see any reason to dwell on your biggest fumble yet.

the rest of time until dinner continues in a steadfast manner with all of you sitting in the living room. the scene looked like something out of a corny movie montage, but the beautiful part of it was that it was reality, all the laughs, the eye-smiles, the stupid jokes and conversations, all of it. your parents had recently returned from a holiday together that they took to celebrate their wedding anniversary, which meant that you two deserved to look through all eight hundred and sixty two of the photos they took. super proud of the new projector he had ordered off amazon, your dad had connected his phone to it and was going through his gallery slideshow-style, with your mom making offhand comments about every other photo.

"that's from when we went on a date to this fancy restaurant, that's from the shoe store your dad wanted to go to...oh! that's when your dad just learnt how to take 0.5x pictures on his new phone!"

your mom speaks animatedly while each photo is being shown, pointing out various different things without any prompting. there were badly taken selfies of your parents that made both you and jaehyun laugh, pictures of the different kinds of food they ate, the said 0.5's of your mother taken from the top of her forehead– your dad was slapping his knee even though your mom wasn't too impressed.

after what seemed like years, they ran out of vacation pictures and moved on to pictures and videos taken during your little sister's talent show. this was especially endearing, because your normally high-energy sister was suddenly all shy and avoidant of eye contact in the presence of jaehyun, particularly displeased with a video of her singing on stage.

jaehyun wipes the pout right off her face however, poking her cheek with a smile. "you sound amazing, s/n", he pipes genuinely, and she's back to smiling again, even offering to sing the song for everyone towards the end. no one has the heart to turn down so innocent a request, so for the next couple minutes you are subjected to a very slightly off-key rendition of some song from the movie 'frozen'. everyone cheers when she is done, jaehyun even throwing in a little "whoo!" for good measure, and your sister performs a small curtsey before seating herself between you and jaehyun's legs.

you're situated on the same couch, but only so that things don't look weird. you invited him here to pose as your boyfriend, and he agreed, so you have to play the part too. that part wasn't as hard as you expected, the acting like a couple, no, it was the avoiding questions that was really getting to you. at some point in the conversation, your dad had congenially asked jaehyun when the next time he'd be coming home was. normally, he would congenially reply with something like "as soon as possible", but this time, he just froze. he appeared to attempt a reply, but was cut short at "uh–", the rest of the sentence never following through.

hoping to repair the awkward moment, you start to construct a fib. "jaehyun's been uh– you know, working at one of those um, nursing homes–", this is too out-of-the-box a reply even for jaehyun who turns to you, trying and failing to the hide incredulous look on his face.

"a nursing home? oh, i didn't know you were training to be a nurse!", your mother is surprised but definitely not disappointed, placing her hand on her chest with a sympathetic look on her face as she looks at jaehyun. he looks as if he's trying to speak to you using only his eyes, widening and squinting them at a rapid pace, tilting his head towards you so your parents don't see his expression. there are clear signs of confusion and you're aware he's questioning your decisions, but that's as far as you get with his eye signals and you let him know by shrugging and wincing, so he closes them while sighing inwardly and turns to face your parents, a fake smile stuck on his lips.

"yes! haha, funny story, this one...", he grits his teeth but furthers your stupid concoction of a story, snapping his fingers while trying to think. "i'm not really training to be a nurse, i just volunteer there sometimes. love being around old people, you know, makes me feel full of life–"

you cut him off before he can make this even worse for the both of you, taking in your mother's furrowed eyebrows and your dad's slightly opened mouth. "yes, well, it's hard for him to catch a break, you know, with all the...", you slap your hand over his knee and give it a little squeeze, turning to him with a grin while he smiles tightly back at you, eyes focusing on the hand on his thigh without changing his expression. "...hard work he does."

jaehyun's eyes don't leave your hand, seeing as this is the first act of skinship in six months, albeit casual. your hand feels so hot that you think you might be burning a hole through the material of jaehyun's jeans, finally ripping your hand off of him.

"of course...", your father trails off in confusion, and no one can seem to make head or tails of the situation. in a moment, your mother pauses before clapping her hands, seemingly already forgotten about the strange situation as she chimes "dinner in five!~". your sister scampers off with claims of helping your mother out in the kitchen (and probably to try and secure a spot close to you and jaehyun), and jaehyun stands up and heads to the cupboard containing all your placemats without out even being asked. you offer to help but he shakes his head, and you opt to go sit back down on one of the arm chairs facing the kitchen area, just observing.

this was one of jaehyun's qualities that made you fall in love with him, but also pissed you off to no end. first of all, didn't he ever get tired of just being so good all the time? second of all, why couldn't his own parents see what everyone else saw in him? and thirdly, why did you choose to ruin your life six months ago? as for the last one, you knew why, but the extent of your stupidity was real apparent to you now.

you look away when he meets your eyes and catches you, your heart beating fast when you see out of the corner of your eye that his gaze lingers for a moment or two. underneath all that hatred, was there still a small part of him that cared about you? after you broke up with him, over call that too, he attempted to call you back two or three times, but you couldn't bring yourself to pick up. out of fear or maybe even shame, you never answered his calls and since then, you'd had no contact.

it was impossible. with a break-up like that and six month's worth of time to sit and think about it, you imagine that one could hold a surprising amount of hatred for someone–especially after a relationship as real as yours. if you switched the roles, you think you wouldn't feel much different.

at your mom's signal, you heave yourself off the couch and to the dining table, seating yourself next to jaehyun (everyone expected you to sit with him, they left the chair empty on purpose). your sister has already claimed the spot opposite jaehyun and was patiently awaiting the vegetables that she knew your mother was going to pile on her plate, a little pout forming on her lips at the sight of broccoli. "you can't make that face every time, like i'm feeding you dog food", your mother scolds her with a smile, giving her a generous helping of veggies. the pout deepens and she folds her arms with a cross look on her face. "you guys don't have to eat the broccoli. why do i?"

she's got a point, you think, but before you can tell her to just eat them, jaehyun speaks. "that's exactly what my little cousin sungchan said...", jaehyun tells her, looking around the table with a dramatic sigh. "and we all know what happened to him..."

little cousin sungchan? as far as you know, there is no little cousin sungchan, and you know a lot about jaehyun's family, so you put your fork down in favour of listening to his story at the same time your sister curiously asks, "what happened?".

"well, like you, sungchan didn't like eating his veggies", starting off the story with a shrug under your mother's listening ears, he talks in a low voice. "he'd always argue with my aunt till one day, he refused to eat them.

your sister is knocking food around her plate while she listened to jaehyun, and she's not impressed with the story so far. "see! why can't i do that?", she asks indignantly, and your mother shoots jaehyun a look to which he winced and continues. "nothing happened for a while, so sungchan thought he had proved his point. but he hadn't heard of the veggie monster."

the story is heading in such a stupid direction that you almost laugh out loud, but you catch yourself when you notice your sister's expression, guarded and wary. "...the veggie monster? ...that's not real...", she speaks like she's not fully sure of her words herself, pausing her attack on her food.

"sungchan thought that too", jaehyun agrees, lowering his voice like one would when telling a scary story, looking around him like it could be listening before continuing, for the story's sake. "but he didn't know that without veggies, a child's body is weak. their bones don't grow strong, they stay small and their minds aren't sharp at all. that's how the veggie monster chooses his targets."

you hold back a snort at your sister's wide-eyed expression and how serious jaehyun looks, he's even got your dad attempting to look nonchalant as he followed the story. "the less veggies a kid eats, the weaker they get, and that's easy pickings for the veggie monster. he comes late at night, and there's no point in hiding because he knows. he can smell when a kid doesn't have enough vitamins and it makes him hungry."

with your sister, your parents and even you hanging on to every word, jaehyun lowers his voice to almost a whisper, and all of you lean in closer to listen. "legend has it that he looks so scary that you lose the ability to move or speak, so he just takes you. sungchan was never seen again. the police said he was missing but i knew what happened to him."

you have to admit, jaehyun can tell a story. the atmosphere felt more eerie as he concluded the story cryptically, but your sister looks positively gutted. "did he take him?", she questions, face white and voice small. he nods slowly, like he didn't want to be talking about this, and all you can think about is how this man deserved an award after the show he put on. "i had my suspicions. no one believed me, but i'm ninety-nine percent sure that at dinner, i saw a pair of dark, red eyes staring straight into the kitchen from the window."

as if nature was a paid fucking actor, a slight crash sounds from outside the window on cue, like if a cat knocked over a plastic bin, but you're pretty sure your sister shit her pants. you've never seen her shovel vegetables into her mouth at that kind of record speed before, even your parents are looking at her astounded. with her food in her mouth, she pleads with glazed eyes, "please– i'm sorry, i'll have my veggies, don't let him take me!"

it takes all of you a little while to convince your sister that she'd be completely fine if she ate all the veggies given to her and that the veggie monster wouldn't even think of her, but it's safe to say that she'd never leave a bit of stray carrot on her plate ever again. your mom comically mouths 'thank you' to jaehyun which makes you laugh, and you turn to smile at him, and he gives you a nod in return. small steps, you think, because a nod is a whole lot better than a glare.

the rest of the dinner continues as if nothing changed. sure, you and jaehyun knew things were different, but it didn't fully feel like it at the moment. your mom had prepared a lot of nice food for the occasion, and your dad even helped, particularly proud of the way his stir fry turned out. jaehyun made sure to compliment both your parents on their cooking, and they all but melted– he still knew exactly how to talk to them. conversation was easy; you talked about work, you talked about how university was going, you talked about the school play your sister was going to take part in, about jaehyun's parents, nothing was forced.

you'd fall into comfortable silences at times in favour of sitting back and observing, listening, just being a part of the moment. for someone who was so reluctant to be here, jaehyun seems comfortable, the familiarity of the situation helping ease the tension between the two of you. expecting some bumps along the way, you were rather pleased with how things were turning out, but you were also anticipating the end of the lovely evening– where you and jaehyun would eventually go your separate ways. you don't want to think about it just yet, not when everything was going so smoothly, and your opportunity to snap out of your thoughts is presented to you, just not in the way you would have liked.

your mother's question seems to have thrown jaehyun for a loop as well, because his eyebrows are furrowed and he looks blatantly confused. at some point during a lull in the conversation, your mother had politely asked jaehyun how his christmas in japan had gone; the only problem with this question was that he never had a christmas in japan, not to his knowledge anyway. this, was yet another lie you had told your parents, when they had asked why jaehyun hadn't accompanied you home to celebrate christmas, like he had originally planned to. unbeknownst to them, you had already broken up with him prior to the christmas holidays, so jaehyun wasn't exactly going to come along anyway. so, you told them that he had to spend christmas with an aunt in japan, for familial reasons.

you didn't exactly have time to prep jaehyun and give him a run down of every single lie he had to play along with, so he turns to you with a look of uncertainty and desperation in his eyes. "my, uh- christmas? in japan?", he puts emphasis on the two keywords, not blinking when he speaks directly to you in hopes that you would take the hint and help him out.

"yeah, your christmas. in japan. with your aunt", you reply to him with the same tone and expression as he does, trying your best to sound subtle so your parents don't catch on.

"yes, with your aunt! we were so sad to hear that you couldn't make it for christmas", your mother is unknowingly helping jaehyun catch up with the fake story, and he releases a short "ahh" during his moment of 'recollection'. "right, my real aunt who definitely lives in japan."

he grits his teeth when he talks, making you grimace and the fact that your parents look completely puzzled doesn't help. you need to save your dignity anyway, so you try to cut jaehyun off before he can make things worse. "haha, jaehyun of course she's your real aunt, silly", you awkwardly chuckle, feigning nonchalance when you bump his shoulder with your fist, wishing you could telepathically communicate with him right now, but you'd probably only be saying "please, please, please" on repeat.

he sighs but speaks up again, much to your relief. "it was slightly boring, my aunt doesn't do much", he laughs softly, fully back in character. "but you know, it's still nice to spend time with your family."

if your parents are suspicious, they don't say anything, seemingly satisfied with jaehyun's answer. dinner continues with few hitches until jaehyun insists that he washes the dishes. "it's the least i can do, after you both made such delicious food."

your mother at least tries to argue with him for a bit, but your dad is quite happy to not have to wash dishes, patting jaehyun on the back before standing up. what surprises you however, is jaehyun turning to you with the sweetest, most fake smile you've seen in a minute plastered on his face. "you mind helping, y/n?"

smiling tightly, you nod and begin clearing the table. this is done in silence, neither of you even looking at each other as you pick up dishes and carry them to the kitchen. your sister has run off to the living room to watch some t.v with your dad, and it feels like you're finally allowed to breathe when your mother exits the room as you’re picking up the last dirty dish. walking into the kitchen, jaehyun's back is facing you while he washes dishes, the environment and the little tune he's humming making everything seem so domestic in your eyes. this is how dinner used to always go when he came over, with you and him washing the dishes together in the end, taking breaks to splash each other with the soapy water or making out secretly by the counter.

but the air is foreign now, none of the former warmth or softness remaining. he turns to you with a frown when you place the final dish on the side of the sink, and he really doesn't look too happy. "visiting an aunt in japan? really?", he scoffs, looking incredulous while you look sheepish, avoiding his eye contact entirely.

you were expecting something like this but you hated being put on the spot. "i don't know, okay, what else was i supposed to say?", the exasperation in your voice is evident but it only fuels jaehyun, and rightfully so.

"i got an idea, how about 'oh, he can't come because i dumped his ass over call for no reason, sorry'?", he digs snidely, voice laden with scorn. there it is. "or is that too close to the truth for you?"

he doesn’t even let you open your mouth, chucking the cloth he was using to dry the dishes on the counter somewhere, folding his arms while he looks at you in a hostile way. “you wanna know how i really spent my christmas, y/n?”, he sneers sardonically, a sarcastic smile etched on to his lips. “alone in my house. miserable. i wish i had an aunt in fucking japan that i could’ve spent it with.”

you hate to admit it, but his words sting and you are well aware that you deserve it. just asking him to join you for this dinner was a huge reach, a request you really didn't expect him to accept. you don't fully understand why he did, though. he clearly despised you, so many be it was out of love for your family? you know jaehyun cared for them, but doing all this was uncharacteristic even for him. when you don't say anything but wear an agonised expression on your face, jaehyun further questions you.

"do you not have anything to say for yourself?", he tries again, his voice a little softer and more hopeful than before but you look like you're fighting some internal battle that doesn't involve him. he exhales deeply, clearly disappointed in your lack of an explanation and just walks past you and out of the kitchen.

you remain in the kitchen for a couple beats more, trying your level best to collect yourself. you can feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes and your breathing is quicker, but this is the absolute worst time to have a little panic attack in the kitchen. how you wished the two of you could just forget about everything for a minute so you could wrap your arms around his figure and fall into his embrace, feeling like that would solve all your problems. it's selfish and wrong, but you know that you're not getting over jaehyun anytime soon.

you'd come to that conclusion a couple months back. the first month after you broke things off with him was possibly the worst time of your life, struggling to eat, sleep or even get out of bed. your friends urged you to reach out to him like they knew you wanted to, but you remained stubborn, convinced at the time that you had made the right decision that would hurt the least for the both of you. you were wrong, you could see that now, but you knew it was much too late. you'd already gone through all the stages of grief, but seeing jaehyun again in this environment had really gone and thrown a spanner in the works for you, all because of your terrible decision-making skills.

any hopes you had of the two of you at least being on semi-friendly terms had just flown out the window as well, and you suddenly think that this might've been the reason why jaehyun even agreed to come. an explanation. a well-deserved one at that. you don't know why you find it so hard to give him one, but you suspect it's because you're not ready to face all that yourself.

upon hearing your mother faintly call out your name, you realise how long you've been standing in the kitchen, taking a couple more deep breaths before you join the rest of them. it's clear that everyone's winding down, your sister curled up on your dad's lap, trying to blink away her sleepiness, while everyone else mutedly watched the television. "didn't mean to keep you all up past your bedtime", you try to joke lightheartedly because your parents look like they're about to hit the hay themselves, but it's really so that no one suspects you were having a little breakdown in the kitchen; especially jaehyun.

"you're not wrong", your dad agrees gruffly, stretching a little before tapping on your sister's cheek to wake her, much to her displeasure. "it's technically your mama's turn to put you to bed, isn't it?", he attempts, but is quickly shot down by your mother, pinching his arm after claiming it was certainly not her turn. after their grand performance, both of them comically turn to look at you with a suspiciously bright look in their eyes. you don't even have time to argue, because the second the hint of a sigh leaves your mouth, they're saying "thank you" and "how nice of you to offer", urging your sister to wake up to let her know that you'll be tucking her in tonight.

she perks up a little at this, nodding with a little glint in her eyes. hopping off your dad's lap, she sleepily totters over to you. "can jae come too?", her voice is hopeful and small, and she yawns in the middle of her sentence but she just has this certain charm that makes everyone unable to say 'no' to her. this includes jaehyun, because one look from her with her arms raised and he's picking her up, pretending to complain about it. you can't help but smile at the whole interaction.

"oh quick! before i forget...", your mom gasps in remembrance, picking her phone up from the coffee table with a tired smile. "don't know when i'll get to see the two of you again so, pictures!"

this may be the only part you were slightly prepared for. your mother had a special affinity for taking photos; not that she was any good at it, she just enjoyed capturing these little moments and treating her gallery like a scrapbook. she had more or less documented the entirety of you and jaehyun's relationship, from the first few months where all the photos were cheesy smiles and awkward poses, to when you had grown more comfortable around each other. in fact, a photo she had taken of jaehyun was your wallpaper for quite some time (it took a lot of effort and explaining to help your mom airdrop you the picture)– it was a shot of jaehyun and your sister grinning from ear to ear, both adorning aprons that were covered in flour after a failed attempt at baking cookies.

the point being, you're pretty sure jaehyun was also expecting the pictures, so it didn't really surprise you when he plastered a smile on his face and came to stand beside you. his hand finds the small of your back soon enough and it makes your body stiffen while simultaneously sending a jolt through it, and jaehyun feels it. mistaking the action for uneasiness, he immediately lifts his warm hand off you so that it's now hovering awkwardly over your body, though no one can see that from the front. while you are disappointed, you lean into him anyway, clasping your hands together behind your back as you both give the camera wide smiles. you're so close you can smell his cologne and it's making you dizzy, not because the scent is overpowering but because it's just so familiar and you can't get enough of it.

the moment is gone in a flash because your mother takes three to four photos while cooing at the two of you before she decides to call it a night, and then jaehyun is ripping himself from you. you don't think anyone else recognises it, the way he seems to want to be as far from you as possible because he's so good at masking these things, but you can feel it. you can feel this heat radiating off of his body whenever he's near you and it's not the warm, fuzzy kind of heat. the spot on your back where his hand rested still burns a little.

your parents are exhausted and look more than happy to be able to jump straight into bed, but not before thanking you and jaehyun. you hug and kiss them goodnight, promising that your next visit will be sooner than this one before they exchange pleasantries with jaehyun, making him promise the same. you know this has to be hard on him, making a mental note to apologise profusely before you part ways. with a reminder that the door now locks from the inside, they bid you goodnight and goodbye, trudging off to their room while your sister scampers up the stairs to hers, suddenly full of life.

you understand why your parents were more than happy to hand over bedtime duties to you and your "boyfriend", because putting your little sister to bed turned out to be a piece of work. she started off by blatantly refusing to brush her teeth, but jaehyun had that one sorted when he reminded her that the veggie monster had a lot of friends, so that was done. she changed into her pyjamas all on her own which was a relief, but you were at a loss over how to actually get her into bed.

you both humoured her for a bit, understanding that she was just happy to have her big sister and her big sister's nice boyfriend home again, so a little excitement was expected. jaehyun played along with her, which was a sight to see, following along with the characters she assigned him in her imaginary games. but when bouncing on her bed turned into running around the room like a crazed bunny, it was a little harder to convince her that she needed to sleep now. "look at me, i'm wide awake", she insists, widening her eyes with her fingers to show you both just how awake she was. jaehyun tried a couple times to catch her, but you're both taken by surprise at her remarkable speed and agility. in the end, you had to resort to just sitting down and hoping that she'll tire herself out, which eventually does happen.

she climbs into bed of her own accord, rubbing at her eyes while you pull the duvet over her body, up to her shoulders. "when are you coming next?", she mumbles curiously while you sit on the edge of her bed, jaehyun standing close by. "soon", you reply honestly, knowing that you'll always have a safe place to come to whenever you need. "maybe i'll even stay for a whole weekend next time."

she likes the sound of this, smiling tiredly with her hands peeking over the edge of her cover, holding it closer to her. "will you come too?", this question is directed towards jaehyun, who looks defeated when he opens his mouth to answer. it's not fair, expecting him to lie to your family like this, but you know you've gotta come clean soon. you'd made up your mind at this point and come up with a plan; you'd explain yourself to jaehyun and apologise after which you'll go your separate ways, then you'll tell your family the truth after tonight, or at least make up a more recent break up, and that's that.

when jaehyun looks to you for help, you play with your hands a little, not fully knowing what to say. "if the old ladies at the nursing home let him go, maybe...", is what you decide is the safest option to go with, and your sister seems satisfied enough, giggling drowsily. you know she's close to falling asleep, and you're about to inwardly celebrate a job well done when she pops her next, unexpected question. "will you both be together forever?"

oh. there's a hint of teasing behind her voice, but everything else about the question is innocent and genuine, blinking her eyes open so she can look at the both of you when you answer. though you're not touching him, you can feel jaehyun stiffen next to you, his voice sounding more than a little awkward when he lets out an involuntary "uhh".

"what do you mean, cutie?"

you don't know why he asks that, because it's a pretty straightforward question; will the two of you be together forever? you want to laugh at the irony because you know that if she had asked the same question last time jaehyun came home, you both would have exchanged knowing smiles, giggling shyly while you tried to answer. the answer would've been 'yes', and you know deep down that it still should be.

she clicks her tongue like it's the most obvious and easy question in the world, shrugging her shoulders when she speaks. "you know, that's what people do when they're in love,", she answers with no hesitation, and you want to roll your eyes because who kidnapped your little sister and replaced her with dhar mann? "just like mommy and daddy!"

"daddy and mommy are married, sweetie, it's a little different–"

"i know that", she cuts off your little improvised answer in a deadpan voice that almost makes you feel stupid, but all her questions have your heart thudding against your rib cage, and you're praying to god that jaehyun can't hear it too. "but still, they love each other, and that's why they're together forever. don't you love each other?"

you're pretty sure the world stopped spinning and your heart stopped beating simultaneously, most definitely not expecting these kinds of questions from your sister. how do you even prepare an answer for this kind of situation? you know for a fact that your cheeks are coated in a dark sheen of red, and out of the corner of your eye (because you refuse to look at him), you’re pretty sure you can see the distinct pink colour paint the tips of jaehyun's ears, like they always do when he's shy or embarrassed. you can't not give her an answer, because that looks weird and she's clearly waiting for one, but answering meant that you either tell her the truth, that no, you will not be together forever because your dumbass went and ruined everything for the both of you six months ago, or you can lie and say that she's right, which would be admitting a lot of things that you didn't want to admit–

"nothing's for sure, but you're right, if two people really do love each other...", jaehyun's deep voice brings all your spiralling thoughts to a halt, and you look at him for the first time in a bit, only to find that he's already looking at you, gaze raw and piercing. you hold your breath when he speaks, because you don't trust yourself at the moment. "...they'll end up together forever."

you hear your sister make some kind of a reply, but the heartbeat in your ears is so loud that you don't quite catch it, the eye contact you're holding with jaehyun so intense that it feels wrong to look away. what could he have possibly meant by that? or was it just some half-assed answer to get your sister to go to sleep? you realise that staring at him while trying to use your sixth sense to nonverbally convey these questions to him isn't going to work, but you can feel the lump forming in your throat, needing to get out of this situation quickly.

it takes everything in you to break the eye contact in favour of pressing a quick peck to your sister's temple, and she looks about ten seconds away from just crashing. "night y/n, night jae...", and with that she's out like a light, and you two wait wordlessly until her breathing evens out before silently exiting the room.

once her bedroom door is shut, you make a beeline for the front door, way too scared and vulnerable right now to look at jaehyun. he doesn't say anything, so neither do you, making sure the door is actually locked before taking your phone out of your pocket. the time on your phone screen reads '11:43', and you know it's too late to try and catch the metro or a bus, but you're too stubborn and embarrassed to ask jaehyun to drop you.

the air is cold outside, much colder than it was inside your warm house. at the current moment, there is no breeze either, the trees are still and there are only a few lights on around the street, and it just makes everything seem so still and loud. you look out at the road, eyes zeroing in on this one lamp post where you shared one of your first few kisses with the man standing beside you. it's crazy how time can change things, you think, because never would you have believed in the moment that jaehyun called you "the most beautiful girl in the world" before leaning in to sweetly connect your lips that he could ever be something so close to a stranger within months.

ultimately opting to look at him, you're once again unable to read the expression on his face as you try your best to speak your mind to him. "um, i'm gonna book a cab, so you're officially free to go. thanks again for tonight, you really didn't have to come with me, so i owe you one. or i don't have to owe you one, because we're not going to see each other again- anything's good with me, just uh...thanks."

he waits patiently for you to finish, and aside from the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes, you're at a loss over what he's really thinking, but his face is so stupidly handsome that you're feeling angry and a little awkward, choosing to look around, and at the floor, playing with your fingers as you spoke.

"you're so dramatic y/n, i can drop you home, it's no big deal", he's already walking towards the road and biting his lip, and you can't tell whether it's out of habit or if he's trying to hide a smile, yet something tells you that it might be the latter.

"so you just let me say all that even though you were gonna offer to drop me? dude..."

the initial ten minutes of the drive are uncommunicative, both of you choosing to look at the dark road instead of acknowledging the awkward silence that was swallowing the car up whole. you don’t talk about your argument in the kitchen, you don’t make small talk about dinner, you don’t talk. you'd normally play some music in the background and you know that your phone is definitely still connected to his car's bluetooth, but somehow it just doesn't feel right– punishing yourself by sitting in this impenetrable silence should do you better.

the roads are more or less empty, save for the lone car or bike that speeds past you. jaehyun knows the way to your house from your parent's because of the amount of times you've driven back and forth, so you don't feel the need to tell him to turn right or to keep going down a certain road, making for even more silence.

part of you is still a little thankful that it isn't the most short drive, even though you aren't even speaking to each other. all it takes is picturing your empty house, devoid of the homely domestic feeling it used to carry when jaehyun was a frequent visitor. what would you even do when you got home? wallow in self-pity over your life choices? play 'sweet' by cigarettes after sex because it reminds you of him, then put on his hoodie that doesn't even smell like him anymore, just so you can curl up in bed and have a good cry while you reminisce? you're starting to think that maybe attempting to talk to him isn't the worst idea, at least it'll give you something to cry about later.

you're going crazy wracking your brain, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make the atmosphere even more uneasy, but all you got was "hey, thanks again for coming" and "hey, sorry for breaking up with you, what's good though?". you can't even help the wince creeping on your face, finally choosing to go with the former before you have a heart attack and die in jaehyun's front seat.

"thanks again for agreeing to come", you start, absolutely hating the break in your voice from not talking for some time. "you really didn't have to do that. and for dropping me."

he offers you a quick nod in your general direction and fixes his eyes on the road ahead like he was zipping through a crowded highway, though you're sure there isn't a car in sight. "like i said, it's cool", is all you get in return, and you have to remind yourself that he has every right to be short with you.

but still, you try again. "and you don't have to worry about my parents", chewing on your bottom lip, you actually look at him this time, hoping it'll prompt him to do the same, but it doesn't. "i'm gonna tell them the truth."

he releases a short breath from his nose like he finds your statement funny, but continues to not really say anything, just nodding to indicate that he heard you. you subconsciously clench and unclench your jaw at that, because god, he's so fucking annoying, but you swear you don't mean to release the slightly irritated sigh that you do. if you hadn't seen his knuckles turning white from how hard he's gripping the steering wheel, you might not have known that your little sigh pissed him off, because you can't tell it from his face, save from the barely-there eyebrow twitch.

you don't know what it is about car rides with only one other person that make you feel so vulnerable, but you think paired with this kind of silence, you could potentially confess to murder in this setting. it's infuriating, how unresponsive he is, and part of you thinks you're jealous of the control he's exerting, because you're dead sure that if you were in his position, you'd have a fair amount to say. it must be satisfying for him in a way, watching you squirm like this out of guilt and discomfort, but you know in your heart that jaehyun simply isn't like that.

"look, jaehyun", your mouth is working faster than your brain, the silence proving to be too much for you to handle. "i know i fucked things up a bit. with how i ended it and everything..."

perhaps you should've taken a little more time to properly articulate your thoughts, because even jaehyun can't control the astounded scoff that slips out of his mouth. you yourself can't believe that you chose to deliver your words like that and it makes you sound so self-righteous, but they're out, and now you're bracing yourself to finally hear what jaehyun really has to say.

"fucked things up a bit? are you serious?", you can hear it in his voice that he's holding back, but he chooses to laugh in disbelief instead, which you think is actually worse than him straight up screaming at you. "y/n, you didn't even bother telling me in person. you dumped me over the fucking phone, saying it wasn't working."

you now kind of wish that you had just kept quiet and sat in his awkward car, and exchanged awkward niceties when you reach home, never to see him again. but this is your final chance at some form of redemption, and now that jaehyun was actually speaking his mind instead of giving you tight nods, you tried to explain yourself.

"jaehyun, i know, i just–"

"i called you a bunch of times. i tried to come see you and everything, but you went and changed your lock and all your friends were saying you didn't want to see me?"

there goes trying to explain yourself. so you sat and listened instead, and it was the least you could do. jaehyun's voice became more and more strained as he talked, the emotions he was feeling now a lot more evident. he was angry, but more importantly, he was confused, and sad.

"i just- i didn't know what went wrong, you know? we were completely fine as far as i knew", he continues on in a laboured way and he's not looking for you speak right now, so you don't. "fuck i- i thought we were in love."

the little laugh he lets out in between his words more or less breaks your heart, the whole scenario sounding all too familiar. those exact words were the last thing you'd heard from jaehyun before you fully and cruelly broke things off, letting him know the decision was final before cutting the call. you remember that day so clearly. you had meant to go see him and explain all this in person, that’s the whole reason you were in the car, but for some reason, you just couldn’t do it. you remember how much your hands were shaking as you waited for him to pick up the call, sitting in the car by yourself in the middle of your driveway. how long you sat and cried after you ended the call, tears falling until there weren't any left. how it began raining the very second you stepped out of your car to go back inside.

the weather was a funny thing, choosing to mirror your mood only when it saw fit. it was warm and sunny on the day you broke up with him, gentle breeze and wispy clouds all around. it was warm and sunny this morning, the weather ever so pleasant as you plucked up the courage to walk to his door. it was still unusually warm and sunny for the couple months following your break up, feeling sour as ever that the weather was so lovely and all you could do was sit in your room and feel sorry.

you took note of all these occasions because it always used to piss you off. though you shiver now in the car, you think it's kind of satisfying in a way, because the only two times your mood and the weather lined up was right after the break up, and the second you stepped outside your house with jaehyun; it feels like a premonition, or a revelation of sorts. the grey of the stormy sky matched the absolute devastation you felt after breaking up with him, rain pouring from the heavy clouds like they were crying for you. now, the cold, still air feels like baited breath, awaiting your next move.

"and nothing, i hear nothing from you for six fucking months until you're suddenly on my doorstep, asking me to pretend to be your boyfriend for a night. that's fucking insane!", he sounds a little wild now, very exasperated, but you figure it's probably better to just let him get it all out of his system, and you'd do good to listen to him as well. everything he's saying makes complete sense, all the emotions he dealt with akin to what you would've gone through had it been you in his place. "and you know what's more insane? i agreed. after all that, i agreed."

that’s the part you don’t understand. your heart is racing listening to him and you have so many thoughts swimming around in your head, it's difficult to filter them. you feel similar to how you felt back in the kitchen, although this time you can't take a minute by yourself to get over it. you absolutely refuse to cry in this moment, not wanting to seem like you're trying to victimise yourself when you are aware you're the problem. but you can feel your heart breaking all over again.

"why did you agree?", you physically can't raise your voice to louder than a whisper, the tension too thick to try and overpower it.

"why did you dump me?", he counters like a child, and while you were expecting the question, it still makes you freeze up a little. he huffs in annoyance when you don't say anything, inclining his head while he waits expectantly for you to answer. "you wanted to talk? let's talk, y/n. you don't get to just waltz back into my life like it's nothing. it's not fair,"  it's so cold, the way he says your name, but you try your best not to let it further shake you, mustering up the courage to finally speak. "it's so stupid, jaehyun."

he looks like he's about two seconds away from just combusting, the only sound piercing the cold air being the gentle hum of the engine. "don't you think i deserve to know?", he urges, voice edged with hurt and frustration. "i spent the whole day with you and your family, pretending like everything was happy and normal when it's not."

"i know, jaehyun-"

"then, tell me."

you shift uncomfortably in your seat, teeth toying with your bottom lip as you avoid looking at him. "i don't know," you murmur, your voice barely audible to yourself over the pounding of your heart.

"you don't know?", he repeats incredulously, his tone tinged with disbelief. "after everything, you don't know? don't lie to me, y/n."

your throat tightens as guilt washes over you, but you try to stand your ground. "i just... i couldn't do it anymore," you confess, voice trembling with emotion.

"couldn't do what?", he presses, his frustration mounting with each passing moment. you know he doesn't believe you, dead set on getting the answers he deserves. he's driving slowly now, allowing him to turn his head in your direction more often.

"this!", you exclaim but immediately recoil when you see the look of hurt flash in his eyes. "no! not this, i mean- me! it's my fault, you did nothing wrong." you're saying all the wrong things, but you're too overcome with emotion to attempt to form a coherent sentence. still, you know it's time that the truth came out, so you continue to explain with a heavy heart.

"i didn't mean to hurt you," you choke out, and your voice is so thick you have to swallow before you carry on. he looks indignant and rightfully so, but you go on before he can interrupt you again. "but i was so scared, jaehyun."

his expression softens at your state, replaced with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "scared of what?", he asks quietly, his words hanging heavy in the air. you feel the need to pause for a moment, hands balled into tight fists as you try to regulate your breathing. you really didn't take into account how debilitating the night would be on yourself. sure, you knew it was going to be tough seeing jaehyun again, especially if he agreed to pretend to be together, but you weren't really expecting to hash it out like this, the weight of your decision pressing down on your like a leaden blanket.

the car moves so slow it may as well be still but  when you turn to him, you can feel the burn of jaehyun's gaze, his eyes searching for some semblance of understanding. "i loved you", he whispers, voice cracking with the intensity of his words. "i would've done anything for you."

you're still, you're so so still. tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you struggle to find the right words to say, but he's completely thrown you off. the car has slowed to a stop, engine idling before he eventually turns it off in favour of turning to you.

"that's exactly why," you reply weakly, your voice a fraction of the volume it normally is. he surveys you intently, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt, eyes reflecting the very same sadness you feel.

"what do you mean?"

"i was scared of hurting you," your confession does nothing to ease his confusion, but you can see he looks more shocked than anything now. "scared of hurting me?," he echoes, his uncertainty and disbelief palpable. "this is so ironic, it's almost funny..."

you think hearing any more of what he has to say is actually going to kill you internally, so you know you have to rush to explain before he starts giving you a piece of his mind again. "i know, it's so fucking stupid, jaehyun", your voice is trembling from the sheer guilt you feel, bottom lip quivering so much you have to bite it to get it to stop. "everything was going so perfectly, you were so perfect, and it scared me so much."

he falls silent, much to your relief, his expression even softening minutely as he processes your words and this gives you the encouragement to continue. "remember that night on the beach? on the trip last year?", you speak tentatively, wanting him to understand your thought process and the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside you at the time, though it's not much of a defense. the memory floods into your mind so vividly, and you can see it all; the salt in the air, the gentle breeze, the feeling of the sand, your intertwined hands swinging. it was so serene and you'd give anything to be there in that moment again, though it's nothing but a distant dream now.

he nods slowly without speaking, and you release a wet sort of laugh, feeling like you'd choke on the lump in your throat. "we talked about everything that night, our families, our childhoods, our futures...and then you brought up what would happen after we graduated college."

you know he remembers because his eyes light up with recognition and he looks like he's replaying that exact moment in his head, and you hope he remembers it with the same soft, gushy feeling you do. "you said you wanted to move in together, and don't get me wrong, i was thrilled, but it made me realise how...serious everything was, you know?", your voice catches in your throat and you're talking to yourself as much as you're talking to him and he seems to understand that, because he makes no attempt to stop you.

it's silent again for a bit as you two reminisce, but you break it again. "i just knew i was going to fuck up, jaehyun. maybe not right away, but eventually, and the thought terrified me," you sniffle a little, not being able to bring yourself to look up from your hands to meet his gaze. "that feeling never really went away, and it was eating me up from the inside. it got so bad that i had convinced myself that you were going to leave me, so i had to do it first, before i fucked up."

your sorrowful confession hangs in the air like an echo and you finally give in to the urge to look at him, and you're shocked– he looks at you so carefully, his expression soft, much, much softer than before. you couldn't stop the tears from finally falling if you tried , the soft glow of the dashboard illuminating the contours of your now wet face. your shared eye contact makes you feel nervous, but not in the way you were expecting– it's too gentle, too raw and it makes you feel a certain way.

"i know it's not an excuse," you're blubbering so much that your cheeks feel hot, you're practically falling apart in the passenger seat of jaehyun's car while he watches and lets you pour all your miseries out onto him. "you don't know how much i regretted it...but i thought i did the right thing. for the both of us. even though i just ended up doing what i was trying to avoid by hurting you."

it's too much now, jaehyun's too silent, and too not-angry for your liking; why is he looking at you in a way that makes you feel like he doesn't think you're the worst person in the world? you can't hold back the sob that's building in your chest, doubling over in favour of pressing your hands against your face and bawling into them. you're not too loud a cryer, but the tremors of emotion you feel are making your shoulders shake, so you're crying silently into your hands while trembling. however guarded he tries to be, the gentleness of his voice overpowers it as he speaks. "i know, shh...," he murmurs and you can't believe your ears, that the man you thought hated you is actually attempting to comfort you after everything. "breathe, y/n."

like it's second nature to him, his hand travels to your back as the sobs wrack through your body, immediately drawing soothing circles on to your covered skin with his thumb. you don't know how but this almost makes you feel worse, the fact that he's still so caring towards you. you pluck up the strength to lift your face from your moist hands, and you're sure it's not a pretty sight that greets him. your nose feels unbelievably stuffy, and your face is on fire when you meet his sympathetic eyes, the warmth from his gaze and hand spreading throughout you, even though he's now removed it. "i'm sorry," you manage through sniffles, but you think you almost flatline when he reaches his hand towards your face, ever so gently caressing it. his thumb juts out and sweeps across the skin under your eye, wiping away at the wetness. "i know."

"shh, it's okay. you're okay", he coos gently and slowly takes his hand back in favour of imitating slow breaths for you, helping you relax a little as you copy him. "why would you think i'd leave you?", he asks carefully once you've calmed down a bit and wiped your tear-streaked face, simply surveying you now. all you can offer him is a defeated shrug, attempting to collect your thoughts. "remember i told you about my ex? the very first one?"

he nods.

"i moved on obviously, like ages ago, but since then i think i've always had this idea that getting dumped is inevitable", you try to explain, voice small as he listens patiently. "it was either leave them or get left, and i was so scared that it would happen with you, that i'd fuck up so bad that you would leave. i couldn't do it."

he frowns and calls out your name in a way that sounds like he's about to lecture you, but you know he can't tell you anything that you haven't already told yourself. "i know, jae, it was so stupid, i know. i don't regret anything more", you sigh, giving him a tight, small smile when you lock eyes. "i'm sorry."

you notice his eyes soften at the nickname, releasing a quiet huff before he runs a hand through his hair. his body language doesn't carry the same anger it did before when he was ranting, now looking subdued and reflective. "i understand why you did what you did. it was stupid, but i understand", he murmurs, his voice impossibly soft when meeting your gaze, the eye contact so intense that you have to physically remind yourself not to cry again by digging your fingernails into your palms. "i would've never left you."

you nod slowly at his admission, his words hanging in the air. "i should've just talked to you...", you concluded in a sullen way and he doesn't reply in full, just mumbling a soft "yeah" under his breath. you don't mind the silence that fills the car this time, the underlying tension more or less dissipated, but you do notice the time, realising that jaehyun still needs to go back home after dropping you.

"should we, uh...", you gesture towards the road and he jumps up in his seat, as though he forgot that he was driving you somewhere in the first place, muttering "sorry" before twisting the key to start the car. this makes you let out an involuntary giggle and jaehyun shoots you a quick glare which immediately shuts you up, a certain warmth blooming in your chest when you see a small smile creep on to his face out of the corner of your eye.

it's quiet for a bit, jaehyun focusing on the road while you gaze out the window. much to your dismay, both the road and the various buildings and shops start to look a lot more familiar, indicating that you are nearing your home. you shouldn't be dismayed really, because this wasn't the most congenial of car rides, but it means that your time with jaehyun is coming to an end. you don't know what the conversation that took place means for you and him however, because unless you're alarmingly stupid, you feel that he may not hate you as much as he once did. does this mean you might even be able to see him again sometime? in a setting where you're not sweating and shaking at just the thought of seeing him?

you think it might be a bit audacious of you to ask that, so you don't. instead, you turn to him with a light grin, playing with the necklace clasped around your neck. "hey, at least you got some new headphones out of all of this", you joke lightheartedly, eyeing the package sitting on the backseat. he lets out a heartwarming chuckle at your comment, glancing at the bag through his rear view mirror. "i can't believe your parents bought that for me. you think they'll make me return it when they find out we aren't together?", he remarks, and you do your best to ignore the little pang you feel at the reminder of your situation. his comment does make you snort though, and you nod along with him. "nah, you need it more than anyone. your airpods have seen better days."

he laughs again, and you wouldn't believe that you two were arguing back and forth like madmen some twenty minutes back. this feels familiar and comfortable, and you cross your fingers in case you jinx it. "do you remember that time when we planned a picnic..." jaehyun begins, a sense of nostalgia shining through his cheeks. "and you forgot to bring the speakers? and we tried blasting music through my one airpod?"

you can't stop the peals of laughter that escape from your mouth as you nod, covering your mouth when your snort makes him laugh as well. "remind me why we didn't just play the music straight from your phone?", you question, replaying the memory in your mind like it was recent. he pauses to think for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck while he hums. "yeah, what the fuck? why didn't we just do that?"

you're laughing in unison as you take this trip down memory lane together, the next few minutes of the car ride consisting of exclamations of "oh! remember when..." and "that time when...", both of you adding on to the memories with your own perspectives and insights. the fact that the conclusion of your little dispute remains ambiguous doesn't bother you too much at the moment, happy to just enjoy the warm atmosphere while you can.

jaehyun's animatedly recounting a story about your sister downloading a game on his phone when you face him, and the last thing you remember paying attention to was that she had somehow managed to spend a large amount of his actual money on it. your eyes are focused on him now, just studying him, and he seems to realise that you aren't listening to his story when he glances at you.

"what?", he questions, the corner of his eyes crinkling when he narrows them at you in an playful manner, taking one hand off the steering wheel to drum absentmindedly on his thigh. "nothing, i just...", you trail off, scanning his features. "you changed your hair. it's...nice. i wanted to tell you that earlier."

he clearly wasn't expecting the compliment, mouth opening and then closing as he tries to think of an admissible reply. "you like it?", he then asks, a shy smile tugging at his lips when he consciously cards his fingers through the longer bit at the back. at your reaffirming nod and heavy gaze, the expected pink sheen dusts his cheeks and though you can't see them, you know the tips of his ears are pink too. he mumbles something of a timid "thank you", both of you smiling like idiots while he trains his eyes on the road.

not too soon after, his car is pulling into your dark driveway. you can't help the sinking feeling in your chest, lips curved slightly downwards. none of the lights are on, save for the streetlight, illuminating the street in a ghostly, dim way. your house looks just like it had for the past many months, gloomy and lonely, and you're absolutely dreading the idea of moping around once again. if this day spent with jaehyun has showed you anything, it's that you're a 100% sure you've not moved on, and that you won't for a long, long time. simply put, you're still in love with him, and you'll have to carry the cross of your mistake for some time to come.

he switches the ignition off but neither of you move. you're sat in your dull driveway on an otherwise empty street, all the other lights of your neighbouring houses off. neither of you say anything, mostly because you're not sure what one is supposed to say in this situation, so everything is still.

"so–"

"well–"

you let out a nervous chuckle while he smiles a bit, both of you mumbling apologies for interrupting each other. "you go first", jaehyun compels you, but now you don't know what to say because you were just going to make it up as you speak. your mouth has a way of working faster than your brain sometimes, but neither seem to be too functional at the present moment. "no, you go", is all you got, and jaehyun has the nerve to roll his eyes, twisting in his seat a little so he's facing you.

"i was just going to say that we uh, reached your place", he claims in a deadpanned manner, but your car door is still locked and your seatbelt is still locked in. you think you must have lost your mind, hoping that he'd tell you to stay with him forever and never leave (which you would have agreed to in a heartbeat). "i guess we have...", you nod, looking out the window and observing your home. maybe it was the dread of going back to your old routine that gave you the sudden boost of confidence, but you realise he never answered your question from before.

"jaehyun...", you begin but falter when you think you might be overstepping, ultimately deciding to just ask anyway when he looks at you expectantly. "why did you agree to come today? we both know you didn't have to."

he looks like he was dreading the very question you asked for some time, shutting his eyes when he leans his head back against the headrest and sighs. "i don't know", is the answer he gives you, voice muffled through the palms of his hands that are rubbing his face tiredly. biting your lip, you have to hold back a similar sigh because you should've known he's not going to just tell you like that. you have no right to press, but yet you do, one more time. "jaehyun, please?"

maybe it's because you sound so meek, but he drops his hands in favour of looking at you, really looking at you, like he's searching your eyes. "why do you think?", he turns it back on you, but you know this is just his way of avoiding the question. "if i knew, i wouldn't be asking. i know you don't have to tell me, you don't owe me a single thing, i just–", you speak desperately with all of the confidence you can muster, worried that your bottom lip would start trembling again. "please, i need to know."

you're looking each other dead in the eye, and while your voice isn't strong, it's honest and raw, and jaehyun can sense that. you can see that there's a million thoughts running in his mind just by the pained look in his eye and your own heartbeat has picked up, the sound deafening in your ears.

"if you haven't figured it out by now, i don't know what to tell you."

thud. thud. thud. you wonder if he can hear your heartbeat over the sound of his, but the blood pumping through your veins is making your ears ring, because what did he mean by that? you hope it means what you want it to mean, but you can't just assume you know everything because you're delusional at this point. "jaehyun, what are you sayi–"

"i agreed because i'm still in love with you."

there it is. the silence after his confession is positively deafening, your mouth agape as your try to register what you just heard. your eyes flicker between his, searching for any signs that he's just messing you and that it's some cruel joke, though it would be completely in his right to fuck with you if he wanted. he's never looked more vulnerable, eyes trained on you in an almost frantic way, like he himself can't believe what he just said. the way he just blurted it out makes you think that he didn't fully mean to admit that, but it's out, nothing he could do to take it back.

"what?", your own voice sounds like an echo and you wish you had something else to say because you heard him loud and clear, but there's a burning ache in your chest that claws all the way up to your throat. the shock is evident in your voice, not knowing what to do with yourself as you visibly process his words. "tell me you're joking", you plead in a pained way, words barely above a whisper. he doesn't say anything, looking lost in his own thoughts as his eyes scan your face. "you don't hate me?"

"hate you?", he scoffs disconsolately, shaking his head slowly. "i couldn't hate you if i tried. and believe me, i tried."

you can hardly believe your ears. you know your heart shouldn't be pounding the way it is, it feels wrong almost for you to be feeling as relieved as you are. "after everything?", you insist dumbfoundedly, but the longing in your voice is palpable, even if you're trying to give him a way out. "i was so horrible to you, jaehyun." you hate the way your voice cracks, but jaehyun just sighs and offers you a sad smile.

"there's nothing you could do to make me hate you."

it's heartbreaking, how defeated he sounds, but he's also looking at you like you could do no wrong in his eyes. "i never moved on", you whisper, hesitance clear as you tell him the truth. "i couldn't delete any of our pictures, i still have all your clothes, sometimes i accidentally set the table for two when it's just me..."

he's blinking quickly, and if you didn't know any better, you'd say he was trying to hold back tears. your break-up did nothing but cause immense amounts of pain for the both of you, and you'd give anything in the world to make up the time lost. his wide-eyed and nearly motionless expression urges you to continue, ready to pour out your heart to the man you loved.

"i still have your number memorised", your face mirrors his, voice growing stronger by the minute. "all the gifts and letters you've ever given me, they're all still there in that shoebox in my cupboard."

"i thought about you everyday", his whisper is raspy, speaking right after you do. "every party i went to, i looked for you even though i knew you wouldn't be there. you know johnny tried setting me up with people?"

you try to suppress the little sting, but you feel it deep inside you. "he did?", you have to clear your throat, and you almost don't want to ask but you do anyway. he releases a sad little chuckle and nods, toying with his fingers. "yeah. i knew i was doomed when the whole date, i wished she was you."

the smile finds its way on to your face against your will, feeling that familiar lump make its way to your throat. "she could've made you happy, jae", you argue anyway because at the end of the day, you want the best for him, and you know you're far from the best.

"no one could make me feel the way you do, y/n", he replied honestly, and there's a sense of finality to his words, like he'd had this same argument with himself time and time again, only to come to this conclusion. “the thought of anyone else touching you made me sick”, he croaked, not missing the way his eyes ghost over your frame.

his words bring about a noticeable shift in the air, followed by silence. he watches you, and you watch him, breathing slow as your eyes dart across his face.”i don’t want anyone but you”, you confess slowly, and a few beats pass before you find it in you to speak again. "i love you, jaehyun."

silence.

you expected disapproval, maybe even a malicious scoff, but you certainly weren't expecting to feel a soft pair of lips against yours as he suddenly lurches forward.

you're stunned, so stunned that you don't even reciprocate the kiss, lips unmoving against his. it's only when he takes this as a sign of discomfort and breaks the kiss that you find yourself reacting, hands immediately making their way to caress his cheeks, leaning forward to chase his lips and close the distance between you. he lets out a sound of surprise against your lips but kisses you back right away, a hand wrapping around your neck from the back, tangling itself in your hair. the kiss is heated and so long overdue, tangible through the way his lips meld furiously together with yours, teeth clashing every now and then.

your hands make their way to his broad shoulders, one wrapping around them while the other comes to rest on his chest, gripping the material of his hoodie. you have the urge to be impossibly close to him, trying to lean forward to kiss him more fully but you're restricted by your seatbelt. it's almost as if he can read your mind, because the hand placed against your face now moves to press on the buckle to release you without breaking the kiss. "fucking seatbelt...", he mumbles disgruntedly against your lips, fiddling with the button until you hear it click, finally separating yourself from him to slip it over you. "there we go."

you don't stay separated for long because jaehyun uses the hand behind your head to pull you towards him again, capturing your lips in a way that makes all the air leave your lungs. "come here", he grunts, using his long arms to pull you clumsily over the gearshift and straight on to his lap. you settle yourself in to the somewhat awkward position in the enclosed space, but that's the last thing on your mind when all your thoughts consist of jaehyun, jaehyun, jaehyun. his lips are back on yours in a instance, tongue sweeping across your bottom lip messily and you gladly allow it to explore your mouth.

the air is impossibly thick, heavily contrasting to the cold weather outside the car, even his lips and hands feel warm against your hot body. you feel his hands grip your waist easily in this position, lips leaving your own to drag across the expanse of your jaw. you whine quietly at the feeling of his mouth sucking a particular spot on your neck, tilting your head back as you wrap your arms around his neck. "missed this", he muses, tongue peeking out to kitten lick at your neck, breath hot against your sensitive skin. "missed you."

the feeling in your chest when his hands find their way under your shirt and on to your bare skin is inexplicable, unable to stop the soft moan from tumbling from your lips when his big hands glide over your stomach, back and finally your breasts. everything about the way he's touching you and kissing you is greedy and urgent, like he's afraid you'll disappear from his arms if he loosens his grip even by a little bit. you'd be a fool to not match this energy, pressing into him while you squeeze your hands over his. "need you so bad, jae."

you're subconsciously grinding down against him needily, hips stuttering against his lap like you've never been touched before. "fuck", your eyes widen at the groan that leaves his throat, sounding absolutely guttural as he grips the skin of your hip harshly.

he's barely done anything and you're coming undone right in front of his watchful eyes, your panties dampening at the look on his face. "jae..", you whine when his fingers dip past the waistband of your pants, gently cupping your clothed core as you rut against it. "shit, baby", he marvels at the stickiness of your panties, feeling your wetness on his fingers just through the material. "you really missed me, huh?"

you don't even have the time to respond to his cocky remark before his fingers are slipping beneath the band of your panties to circle your clit, spreading the wetness around your folds. a breathy sigh escapes your lips, throwing your head back as he experimentally prods at your entrance and eventually slips a finger inside. "still so tight for me", he all but groans, pumping his finger in and out of you languidly, drinking in the sounds of your pleasure. he feels so blissfully familiar, and though you haven't been touched by him, or anyone for that matter for months, the stretch of his second finger feels the same kind of intimate as it did before, if not more.

you lean forward and press your lips against his once again, kissing him like you might never get the chance to again, all while you're grinding back down on his hand that's fingering you steadily with a thumb circling your clit at the same time. his free hand moves to bunch your top up above your breasts, peppering kisses over the tops of them. he wastes no time in pulling your breasts free from from their cups, attaching his lips to one nipple and swirling his tongue around it in a way that makes you cry out. "my pretty girl", he mumbles almost to himself while cupping your other breast, making a show out of it as his tongue flicks over your hardened bud over and over until your arching your back and pressing it further into his face. “thought about this all the time.”

keeping in mind that you're still technically in a public place, you bite your lip to contain the sounds of your pleasure, though jaehyun doesn't make it easy when he notices this and increases the pace of his fingers. the hand fondling your breast leaves it unattended for a moment to release your bottom lip from your teeth, smoothing his thumb over the swollen skin. "i've waited months to hear these sounds. let me hear you, baby", he all but purrs and that's all it takes for a moan to tumble out of your mouth, pressing your forehead against the side of his face while you screw your eyes shut out of pleasure.

with his attack on your sensitive buds and his fingers pistoning inside of you, you know you aren't going to last long. "already?", jaehyun chides with a small smirk, and it's embarrassing how well he knows your body, grazing his teeth against your nipple in a way that feels painful and heavenly at the same time. you can feel his rock hard bulge against you, and with the untimely grinding of your hips against him, you're sure this is torturous for him. "don't wanna come like this", you whine against his cheek, your entire body feeling sticky from the heat inside the closed vehicle. your puckered lips leave wet kisses all over the expanse of his cheek, and the boyish giggle that leaves his mouth makes your heart flutter. "wanna feel you, jae."

his head is thrown back against the headrest and his eyes are shut tightly, jaw clenched as he slowly slips his fingers out of you. though you whine at the loss of contact and you're almost grinding against the air, you want nothing more than to make him feel good as well. "want you to fill me up", you coo at him, softly linking your hands behind his neck as you test the waters with your words. it's clear they have an effect on him, both hands placed on your hips as he helps you lazily grind against his erection. "don't– have a condom", he grits out, hips bucking up to meet yours. "don't need one", you murmured immediately, knowing he wants this as bad as you do.

his eyes flicker open at that, one hand leaving your hip to brush some stray hairs away from your face, gently tucking some behind your ear. you could melt at the way he's looking at you, so tender and loving, a warmth spreading all over you until you feel like you have to look away. he doesn't let you however, hand quickly coming you to cup your cheek before leaning in place a small peck against your lips. "are you sure?", he sounds breathless, but still firm as his eyes glance between yours like he's reading them.

if he can read them, he'll know that you can't nod fast enough, dragging your hips across his needily to show him. "i'm sure. i want you, jae.", you're so needy that you don't even bother to take your pants or panties off fully, fingers fumbling with the waistband as you shimmy them down a little, leaving your underwear on. you swear your mouth waters when he unbuttons his pants and lets his cock spring out against his stomach, lustful eyes taking in the way he keeps his shirt up with his teeth. if this weren't such an awkward position, you'd have taken him in your mouth in an instant, knowing exactly what to do to hear the man in front of you whimper.

nudging your panties to the side, he focuses on collecting your wetness all over the tip of his dick, hissing at the contact. "please", you whine, not wanting to waste another moment, finally sighing in relief when he begins to press his cock inside you. he swears under his breath at the feeling, and you're feeling so stretched out just from him slipping it in even though you're still so wet that you just go lax in his arms until he bottoms out. "that's it", he grunts like he's holding back. "taking me so well, angel."

you preen at his praise, finally beginning to move your hips a little at his coaxing. sighing against the shell of his ear, he picks up the pace for you, not warning you before thrusting upwards to meet your movements with a groan. you can feel your mind going blank at the sensation, your moans sounding more like cries whenever he snaps his hips into yours, the obscene sounds filling the car. you're just so full, his hands gliding up and down your sides as he fucks deep inside you, making up for all the lost time. "you feel so good, baby", he barely gets his words out, but it gives you the encouragement to bounce up and down on his thick cock a little faster than before, his eyes widening at the feeling. "just like that."

he's kissing and sucking all over your neck again, lips ghosting over whatever skin he can reach and it's all so much, feeling a single tear stream down your face. he almost slows down for a second when he feels the tear drop on to his own face, eyebrows raised in surprise because he thinks he's hurting you, but he's even more shocked when you let out the high-pitched whine. "what's wrong, angel?", he mumbles into your neck, peering up at you carefully. you shake your head profusely, continuing to grind down on his cock. "i just- just love you so much, jae", you blabber incoherently, so wet that you're practically gushing around his dick.

"aw, baby", he shushes you sweetly, pressing his forehead against yours as his thrusts become more and more erratic. "i'm here. not going anywhere." the coil in your stomach is tightening and you can feel every inch of him inside you, more tears threatening to spill from your eyes before he's kissing them away. "i'm here."

he's hitting all the right spots inside you in this position, and he's basically doing all the work because you're like putty in his strong arms, all you can do is moan and cry out against him weakly. "i'm close", you warn him, but you know he already knows that, and you know he is too, slipping your hand down to where his rests on your hip and interlacing your fingers. "me too, pretty", he sputters through his teeth, giving your hand a tight squeeze as you start to come undone. “want you to cum. can you do that for me?”

"oh my god", you're crying out as you cum around his cock, body and mind going numb and ears ringing as the coil finally snaps. "cum inside me, jae, please", his eyes go wide at the way you're begging him, and he doesn't look like he can hold back much longer. "fuck angel, you- you sure–"

"yes, please, need you to fill me up", you cut him off, too sensitive from the way he's helping you ride out your high to move anymore. with a few more sloppy thrusts, his cock is twitching inside you before you lets out a guttural groan, his warm cum filling you up. you go limp against him, face nuzzled into the crook of his neck as the both of you try to regulate your heartbeats.

the sounds of your heavy breathing fills up the car along with jaehyun's soft murmurs of "so perfect" and "did so well for me". any doubts you had in your mind of this being a mistake in jaehyun's eyes are wiped away when he begins petting your head, gently smoothing your messy hair as he presses firm kisses to your head. his cock softens inside of you but he makes no move to pull out, wrapping his arms around your waist while you do the same around his neck, simply sitting in each other's presence silently.

you struggle but finally pick yourself up, gazing at his moonlit face from your place on his lap. “you okay? was that okay?”, he murmurs softly, his voice thick and eyes hazy as he traces little shapes on your back. “more than okay”, you reply tiredly, pressing your lips against his once again because you feel you’re in a dream-like state right now. you're sure he's the most beautiful man you're ever had the privilege of looking at, feeling incredibly vulnerable when you speak again even though he's looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes. "now what?", you question, suddenly feeling like you've jumped the gun when he opens his mouth to say something but stays silent. "never mind, don't answer that, we'll talk about it later", you shake your head, laughing a little breathlessly when he grins at you, pecking his forehead sweetly.

you look away from him and at your lifeless house, mouth working faster than your brain once again. "would you...want to come in?", you wince, feeling kind of stupid for asking but meaning it anyway. you're both comforted and thrilled when a large grin is plastered on to his face, feeling like maybe your home won't be as lifeless anymore.

"i think i'd love to come in."

[pennyellee]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡?

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡? | 𝐌𝐘𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐔 (𝐌) pairings: producer!min yoongi x popgirlie f!reader genre: romance, smut, slight porn with plot, friends to lovers au word count: 6K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

prompt: "There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out." summary: "You Big Enough?" - when an old flame resurfaced, rumours spiralled, and suddenly, every lingering glance and every touch between you seemed to carry weight. It had always been just music, just friendship—hadn’t it? No. You always had the vibe of  'will they, won't they.' This has become bigger than the music. Tension crackled, boundaries blurred, and there was this thing that Yoongi made sure you knew well besides that he was big enough. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, explicit language, themes of subtle (and not-so-subtle) possessiveness, teasing, sexual activity, rough sex, fingering (f receiving), miscommunication driving emotional conflict, dirty talk, raw fucking (stay safe!) choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes, creampie, fleeting nipple play, very subtle dominance/submission dynamics, implied size kink ... (as per usual, I'll add some if needed)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, sexual activity, sex without protection, choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes.

a/n: yall, I had this idea like a month ago and I wrote the initial part but lowkey forgot that it's in my drafts so I finished it yesterday (might come later to edit, pls excuse me im working overtime these days) and amazing and spectacular @chaoticpuff17 managed to read it so you can have it as a lil Valentine's day treat. So here is something simple, smutty, and cute for ya. Happy Valentine to all of you who celebrate, love you my little fairies! ♥

masterlist

Your hands hovered above the keys and your brain could not figure out what to press to make it sound as magical as you want. Your mind searched for the perfect melody for the bridge of her latest song—

"Try F-sharp minor," Yoongi suggested, his voice low and even. The studio is a second home for you. Always have been and dear Min Yoongi was as much a refuge as the soundproof walls and softly humming equipment.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"Perfect—" There was a warmth in his gaze, one that lingered a second too long.

"How do you always know, Yoongi-ah?"

"It's my job," he said simply, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. Your heart fluttered with a familiar yet unwelcome sensation. But you quickly shook it off, focusing on the music in front of her.

"I'm lucky to have you, then," you murmured.

Yoongi didn't respond immediately, and when he did, his voice was quieter than before.

"I'd say I'm the lucky one."

Before you could process what he meant, your phone buzzed, breaking the spell. You picked it up, seeing a message from your lifelong bestie, Jimin-ah.

Emergency. Coming over.

You frown but you are happy to not indulge in something you don't have the answers to. "Jimin-ah is on his way. Guess I'll have to call it a night."

Yoongi's expression was unreadable, but he nodded, knowing that it must be something important if you’re packing your stuff so quickly. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"You need to fucking hear this," he says, her voice brimming with urgency when he bursts into the apartment like a whirlwind, his dark glossy hair bouncing as he flops onto the couch.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon?"

You hand him a glass of red wine and sit across from him.

"What now? Did he suddenly reappear after he ghosted me?"

Jimin winces.

"Actually, yeah. And I finally found out why he did so."

Your stomach drops. You liked that man when you went out, but the message you left a good amount of time ago went unanswered for an even longer period of time.

"Why?"

He hesitates, his eyes darting around the room. Finally, he leans forward, lowering his voice. "Everyone thinks you and Yoongi are… you know."

You blink.

"What?" you say, playing dumb.

"You knooowww…—

"—that."

He said through gritted teeth, trying to make you understand, but your brain was not cooperating.

"No, I dooooon't know that" You mimicked him, and he only stared dead serious at your stupidity.

"They think you've been doing it," he says bluntly. "Apparently, it's some open secret in the industry. Like, 'Oh, Y/N and Yoongi? Of course, they're a thing.'"

Your jaw drops. No way. No fucking way.

"That's insane. We're not… we're not like that."

"You sure about that buttercup?" Jimin raises an eyebrow and you merely nod.

"Cuz', he's not exactly denying it. And honestly, can you blame people for assuming? You've written two albums together, spent countless hours locked in the studio, and the way he looks at you…" he trails off, shaking his head.

"There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out."

Your cheeks burn.

"That's ridiculous. Yoongi and I are friends. Just friends."

"Hmm, I don't know hun,—"

He was right. You weren't buying it. Not entirely.

But you weren't ready to admit that out loud—not yet, anyway. Your mind races. You replay every moment you've spent together, every lingering glance and fleeting touch.

Yoongi and you?

It was absurd, wasn't it?

Right?

Jimin watched you carefully, his perfectly shaped brows raised in amusement. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"No," you scoffed, but your voice lacked conviction.

Jimin smirked, leaning back against the couch. "Look, babe, I wouldn't bring this up if I didn't think it was something you should actually think about. People don't just make this kind of shit up for no reason."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "I just—why wouldn't he deny it?"

"That's what you need to figure out." Jimin gave you a pointed look. "You trust him, don't you?"

You hesitated. That was the problem, wasn't it? You trusted Yoongi more than anyone. He had been your anchor in the storm, your safe space when everything else felt uncertain.

But this—this was different.

The way he looked at you.

The way he always knew exactly what you needed.

You replayed every moment with Yoongi in your mind, combing through the memories with a fine-toothed scepticism, looking for anything—anything—that could have fed these rumours. The way he watched you while you worked in the dance studio, the quiet way he always made sure you had water before long sessions, the casual intimacy in the way he touched you—light, fleeting, like a habit neither of you had ever questioned.

Had you been blind this whole time?

Jimin's voice snapped you back to reality.

"Look, I think you need to talk to him. Like, actually talk to him."

You swallowed hard.

Talking to Min Yoongi had never been difficult before. But this? This felt dangerous.

The next evening, you stepped into the dimly lit studio, and the question sat on the tip of your tongue like a loaded gun.

Yoongi was already there, as always. The warm amber glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across his sharp features, catching on the soft strands of dark hair that fell over his eyes. His fingers rested idly on the soundboard, a picture of quiet focus—until he looked up at you.

His gaze, steady and unreadable, held you captive.

"You're late," he murmured, but there was no accusation in his tone—just that familiar, quiet warmth.

You swallowed. "Got caught up with Jimin last night, forgot to set a reminder."

At that, something flickered across his face—too quick to name, gone before you could hold onto it. "Ah."

Silence stretched between you, thick with something you weren't ready to name. But you hadn't come here to tiptoe around things anymore.

So you stepped forward, pressing a hand against the cool surface of the mixing console, grounding yourself, only now taking his appearance in.

"I played with the structure a little last night after you went home and—" he broke the silence first, but you knew he sensed the sudden awkwardness in your posture, your whole being.

"Is something the matter, sleepyhead?"

"Nope, nothing at all."

You quickly retorted, trying to look anywhere else but his gorgeous face.

Yoongi's eyes, however, never wavered. They held a depth that made it impossible for you to escape his gaze. You had always known how intense he could be, but now, in the stillness of the studio, it felt almost intimate, the air thick with unspoken words that seemed to pulse around you like a melody begging to be heard.

He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting casually on the desk, but his posture was all focus—intent, almost as if he was waiting for you to unravel yourself.

"Are you sure about that?" His voice was lower now, a gentle challenge. He was pulling at the thread, testing the tension between you.

Your stomach twisted. This was the moment, wasn't it?

"I'm fine, Yoongi, just had a lot of wine last night," you said again, but your voice betrayed you. It cracked, ever so slightly, and you couldn't mask the uncertainty in it.

The silence between you thickened, and it felt like the space in the room had shrunk, until it was just you, him, and the suffocating pressure of the question you both knew was lingering.

He didn't look away, not even when you avoided his gaze, staring down at the soundboard like it could offer you some kind of escape. He moved to the electronic piano while lifting a brow at you.

"So as I said, I played with the structure—"

You watched him, leaning at the piano, his fingers poised just above the keys, waiting for him to break the silence again, to give you something more. But you didn't want more from him—not in the way you wanted it. Not yet.

Instead, you played a dangerous game, one of subtle manipulation, testing him, probing for the truth behind his unreadable expressions.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon, right?" You interrupt him, raising your voice just a little.

The name hung in the air between you, deliberately chosen, carefully placed like a baited hook.

Yoongi's fingers stilled for the briefest of moments. But it was enough. Just enough for you to notice. His posture shifted ever so slightly, his shoulders stiffening imperceptibly.

You bit back a smile, inwardly satisfied at his subtle reaction.

"I bumped into him yesterday on my way home. He... he actually asked me out on a date again. Said he lost his phone and had to get a new phone number, didn't remember mine."

A lie.

The words left your mouth so easily, like a lie you had rehearsed in front of the mirror, and yet your heart pounded with anticipation. You weren't expecting much. Just a flicker of jealousy, a crack in the calm façade he always wore. So your interrogation of his, perhaps, hidden feelings isn't unprovoked.

Yoongi didn't immediately respond. His fingers finally touched the keys, the faintest chord ringing through the room, but his eyes remained fixed on the piano.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the soft melody playing between you, the rhythm of his fingers meeting the ivories almost too steady.

And then, finally, he spoke. His voice was low, flat. "Is that so?"

Your breath caught. That was it?

You frowned, staring at him from across the room, searching for a reaction. Anything. But his expression was as controlled as ever. His calm demeanour was unshakable.

No way.

You leaned forward, the pressure of the lie beginning to claw at your insides. "Yeah, he asked me. He was actually pretty... persistent about it. He was sorry I thought he ghosted me." You let the words hang, trailing off deliberately, watching his reaction closely.

But Yoongi only nodded, his eyes focused on the keys.

"I see."

A small flame of frustration ignited in your chest. Was he really this indifferent? Was he truly going to let this lie slide without a hint of a reaction?

You stood up abruptly, unable to hold the pretense any longer. You could feel your temper rising, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

"You fucking see?!" Yoongi's fingers paused mid-chord as the tension in your voice snapped through the room. You busted out your feelings. Well, this was doomed from the start.

You stepped forward, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and something else—something raw that you hadn't been prepared to face. "You don't even care, do you? You don't care that everyone is saying we're fucking, that they think we're—" You cut yourself off, almost choking on the words. You couldn't bear to say them aloud, but you needed to know, needed to push him.

His gaze met yours, and in that instant, you knew he hadn't been indifferent. He'd been waiting. Waiting for you to unravel yourself, for you to show your cards. His eyes, dark and unreadable, pinned you in place.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" His voice was cold now, controlled, with an edge that made your skin prickle. The air in the room thickened, turning heavy with the weight of his words.

"Well, perchance?!—" You gesture rapidly.

"You run around not denying it Yoongi,—?!"

The calm, controlled exterior he wore was unravelling, and you weren't sure if you liked the version of him that was emerging—or if it terrified you.

He stood up, slowly, deliberately. The sudden motion caused a cold shiver to run down your spine. He didn't step towards you, but the space between you both seemed to shrink in the way he carried himself—every step deliberate, every movement measured.

"Why do you care so much?" His voice was low, almost detached, but there was a certain sharpness to it now. It was the tone he used when he was dangerously close to losing control, but for now, he still kept it in check. "What's so important about what they think?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words tangled in your throat. You had been so sure of your reasoning—so certain of the way you wanted him to react—but now that he was giving you exactly what you wanted, you realized just how hollow that satisfaction felt.

"I dunno Yoongi—maybe because men ghosted me—maybe because you just might be the reason I had a dry season— or maybe you're that kind of motherfucker—"

Yoongi let out a sharp breath, a dry laugh escaping him as he shook his head. You elevated this to a different level now. "A motherfucker?" He repeated his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "That's what we're doing now?"

You were too far gone to stop. The frustration, the pent-up emotions, the sheer nerve of him sitting there, all unbothered while you spiralled—it cracked something open inside you.

"Yes, Yoongi! A motherfucker! What else do you call a guy who lets rumours fly like this and doesn't even care?" Your hands gestured wildly as your voice grew more frantic.

"You don't deny it, you don't address it, you just exist in this limbo, letting people think we're screwing while I sit here looking like a desperate idiot who cannot get a hold of her man—"

His jaw clenched, his patience visibly wearing thin. "So what if I don't deny it?" He stepped closer, voice a fraction lower now, dangerously quiet. "What if I don't care what they think? What if I like the way it sounds?"

Your breath hitched.

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Your entire argument, the whole reason you'd brought this up, suddenly felt shaky, flimsy, like a house of cards collapsing under the weight of his words.

Yoongi watched you, his eyes dark and unreadable, waiting for you to process what he had just admitted.

Finally, your voice came out in a whisper, hoarse and unsure.

"The fuck, Yoongi?"

"I don't deny it," he said again, slower this time. His head tilted slightly, studying you. "Because it's not entirely wrong."

A rush of heat flooded through you—anger, shock, confusion, something else, something deeper and more dangerous. "Not… entirely… wrong?" You echoed, blinking at him. "Are you—are you actually fucking insane?"

Yoongi exhaled sharply, like he was just as frustrated as you were, like you were the one being difficult. "Y/N—"

"No," you cut him off, pointing a finger at him. "No, you don't get to just drop that and act like it's nothing."

"I'm not acting like it's nothing," he countered, his voice still calm, still infuriatingly composed. "You wanted to know why I never denied it? That's why."

"You can't be fucking serious right now, you fuck—" his body in your proximity startled you, but you let him pin you to the wall next to the mixing desk.

His hands caged you in, palms pressing against the wall on either side of your head. You felt the sharp inhale of his breath, the slow exhale, the tension buzzing between you like a live wire.

"You don't get it, do you?" His voice was quiet but razor-edged, his eyes dark and unwavering. "You've been running in circles trying to make me jealous, trying to get a reaction—" his gaze flicked down to your lips for just a second before meeting your eyes again, "pushing me like you want me to snap."

You listened. For once.

"You sat in that fucking booth with only your panties under that big shirt—"

"My fucking shirt—"

"My fucking shirt," he repeated, voice rough. "And you think I wouldn't become possessive? Think I didn't see the way you stretched in it, how you leaned in close, pretending like you didn't know exactly what you were doing?"

Your breath hitched. You did not realize he saw you this way.

You swallowed, trying to find solid ground beneath the sudden energy shift, but Yoongi wasn't giving you the chance.

"You wanted me to react?" His eyes burned into yours. "You wanted this?"

The heat between you became unbearable.

"I—" You started, but you had no words.

Because now, finally, Yoongi wasn't holding back.

And neither were you.

Your pulse hammered in your throat as his words sank in, wrapping around your ribs, tightening like a snare. You had been waiting—aching—for a reaction, pushing buttons you hadn't even fully understood yourself. But now? Now, Yoongi was looking at you like he had already decided.

His breath was warm against your cheek, the space between you non-existent.

"Say it," he murmured.

You licked your lips, the movement not lost on him. "Say what?"

Yoongi let out a short, dark chuckle. "That you like it. That you like this—the way I look at you, the way I see you."

Your stomach flipped.

"You're so full of shit," you whispered, but there was no weight behind it but pure provocation.

His fingers twitched against the wall before he exhaled sharply and leaned in, just enough for your breaths to tangle.

"And you'll be full of me."

"You big enough?" 

Oh, that did it.

A sharp, involuntary gasp left his lips and your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. The air between you turned electric, charged with something too dangerous to name.

Yoongi's gaze darkened, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as if savouring the way your breath hitched when he looked at you that way. He bit down his lower lip before he spoke again, laying his palms on the flat surface of the table in front of the piano that lay on it–

"There are two possibilities happening between us—" He tilted his head slightly, gaze never wavering from yours, his voice a low rasp against your skin.

"One—we make this official,—" He said it like it was inevitable, like it was a fact written in stone. "No more rumours, no more bullshit. No one else but us. Just you and me."

Your breath stuttered, your heart slamming against your ribs.

"And the second?" you whispered, barely able to form the words.

Yoongi smirked, slow and sinful, his fingers twitching against the wall before he leaned in, his mouth a breath away from yours.

"I keep writing my songs, keep filling my verses with filth about how I would fuck you good and hard—until you finally beg me to bury my cock in your cunt."

“And people will hear you’re mine—”

Your entire body went hot. Yoongi's smirk widened, watching the way your breath stuttered, your pupils blown wide. He tilted his head, gaze flicking down to your parted lips, his voice dropping even lower. Your thighs clenched a traitorous reaction that made his smirk turn predatory.

"You—"

"That's the difference between them and me, baby." His fingers ghosted over your waist, light enough to make you shiver. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

You swallowed hard, your pulse thrumming so violently it was a wonder you were still standing.

"You're so—"

"What?" Yoongi pressed in closer, his nose brushing against yours. "Say it."

You had no idea what you were going to say.

But when his fingers finally curled around your hip, pulling you flush against him, the words you should say, the ones that would stop this before it went too far—before you gave in—died in your throat.

"Fucking thought so." He smirked again. That smirk. That fucking smirk.

It did something to you, something dangerous, something you weren't sure you could control. It made you want to wipe it off his face—maybe with a slap, maybe with your mouth.

Yoongi knew it, too.

He leaned in just a fraction closer, his breath hot against your cheek, his grip tightening on your hip as if daring you to push him away.

You didn't.

"See?" His voice was silk and smoke, smooth but lethal. "You love this. You love the way I get under your skin. The way I make you feel."

Your nails dug into your palms. "You don't know shit about what I feel."

Yoongi chuckled, low and rough. "Don't I?"

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down your side, stopping just shy of indecency but still making you shudder.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured. "Tell me you don't want this, and I will."

It was the worst thing he could've said. Because the truth—the one you refused to admit even to yourself—was that you didn't want him to stop. Ever. You were so fucking needy to be touched after you got to know that your dried spell had a sorcerer and it was him. So technically now, he should be the one breaking it. And he knew it.

Your silence was all the confirmation he needed to press his lips against your neck.

His hands were suddenly everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs, spreading you open like he had every right to.

"You think I'm going to let you run your mouth, push me to the edge, and not do something about it?" His voice was a rasp, thick with hunger. "You think I don't see how badly you want this?"

Your breath hitched as his thigh pressed between yours, the friction making your knees buckle. His mouth found your jaw, teeth scraping over sensitive skin before he kissed a path down your throat, sucking, biting, claiming.

You barely had time to think before he gripped your wrist, guiding your hand down—down—until your fingers brushed against him, hard and thick beneath his sweats. The sound that tore from his throat was pure sin.

"Feel that?" Yoongi growled, grinding against your palm. "That's what you do to me. That's what you fucking cause each time we're in this studio."

Your fingers flexed, a teasing squeeze that had his breath stuttering. He cursed under his breath, tilting your chin up with his free hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

Dark. Devouring. Desperate.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured again, a cruel echo of earlier. But this time, there was no space between you, no restraint.

And you didn't.

Instead, you yanked his mouth to yours. Yoongi groaned into the kiss, the sound reverberating through you as his hands pushed under your shirt, fingers trailing over bare skin, leaving fire in their wake.

Your nails raked down his back as he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the wall.

His hips rolled, slow and devastating, and a moan ripped from your throat, shameless, wrecked.

"That's it, baby" he rasped, his forehead against yours, breath heavy. "That's the sound I've been waiting for."

His hand dipped lower, slipping past the band of your shorts, finding you soaked for him. Yoongi cursed, his fingers teasing, circling, before sliding through the wetness with devastating precision.

"Fuck," he groaned, voice hoarse. "You're already so fucking ready for me."

You didn't even get a chance to respond before he pushed a finger inside, then another, stretching you, filling you, working you open until you were trembling against him.

"Yoongi—"

"I know," he hushed you, his lips brushing against your ear, his fingers moving faster, deeper. "I've got you, baby. Just take it."

And fuck, you did. You took everything he gave, your body writhing against his as pleasure built sharp and unbearable, spiralling higher, tightening—

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice dark, commanding. "Come on my fingers like the desperate little thing I know you are."

And when he curled his fingers just right, his thumb pressing where you needed it most—

You shattered.

Completely. Utterly.

Yoongi swallowed your cry with his mouth, dragging it out, his hand still moving, still milking every last bit of pleasure from you until you were shaking in his arms.

Then, as you barely caught your breath, his voice came again, low and teasing.

"Now," he murmured, undoing the string of his sweats, letting them fall.

"I'll fuck you hard that you'll forget about those smutty books you're reading—"

Your body barely had time to recover before Yoongi was pressing closer, his fingers sliding away, leaving you aching and empty. But then—then—his hands were on your hips, tugging your shorts down, peeling them away with agonizing slowness, like he wanted you to feel every second of it.

Your breath stuttered as he stepped back just enough to look at you, his dark gaze trailing over your bare, trembling form.

"Fucking perfect," he muttered, almost to himself, before his hands gripped your thighs and lifted you, forcing your legs around his waist.

The weight of him, the sheer heat of him, pressed right against your core, had you gasping, fingers digging into his shoulders. Yoongi groaned low in his throat, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel all of him, hard and thick and ready.

"Ain’t big enough, huh?" he murmured, dragging his clothed crotch against your soaked heat. His voice was rough, strained. "I’ll show you how big I am."

Your nails bit into his skin, your body writhing against him as he kept teasing, kept torturing you with slow, precise movements. The friction had you panting, your forehead falling against his.

"Stop teasing," you managed, barely above a breath.

Yoongi chuckled, dark and knowing. "Look at you. So desperate for me already." His fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Tell me how much you want it."

You let out a sound between a whimper and a growl, rolling your hips against him in a silent plea. But that wasn't enough for him. Your heart racing, you felt his warm palm connect with your skin, a stinging sensation spreading through your buttocks as he spanked you. You let out a small yelp, but Yoongi didn't relent, his hand rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

"Say it." His voice was like gravel, low and demanding. "Say you want me to fuck you, Y/N. Say you need me." He pulled down his sweats enough so his cock sprang free from the confinement.

Your pride clashed with your need, the battle waging for only a moment before he rolled his hips again, pressing the thick head of his cock right against your entrance—and your resolve snapped.

"Fuck—I need you," you gasped, your fingers twisting into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan. "Please, Yoongi—just fuck me."

Something broke in him then.

With a guttural sound, he aligned himself and pushed inside, the stretch of him stealing the air from your lungs. He didn't stop, didn't hesitate—just drove forward, sinking deep until he was fully sheathed inside you until there was no space between you, nothing left but the overwhelming, consuming feel of him.

"Fuck," Yoongi gritted out, his forehead dropping to yours. His hands flexed against your thighs like he was trying to hold himself back, to give you a moment. "So fucking tight."

You could barely breathe, barely think, pleasure and pain and something deeper rolling through you in waves. But then he shifted, just slightly, and—

"Oh fuck," you gasped, your head falling back against the wall.

Yoongi's grip tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "Yeah?" He rolled his hips again, slow and deliberate, dragging himself out before thrusting back in, harder this time. Your moan was wrecked, broken—exactly what he wanted.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, across your collarbone. "Taking me so fucking well."

Then he moved. Snapping his hips as hard as he could to make your back rub against the wall, to make your head spin from the bouncing on his thick cock that made you see so many constellations. Up and down, up and down. He felt so good inside you, filling you completely as his hips slammed against yours.

The force of his thrust made you cry out, your fingers tangled in his dark raven hair, which you so openly adored when he kept longer. His mouth crashed down on yours, swallowing your moans as he drove into you with a fierce intensity, each stroke building on the last.

His hand cupped your breast and his thumb brushed over your nipple. The touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the fierce way he was driving into you. Your back arched, pushing your breast further into his hand, and you felt his fingers close around it, squeezing softly. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and you moaned loudly, the sound lost in the kiss that still claimed your mouth. Yoongi's hips kept moving, each thrust building on the last, and his hand on your breast seemed to be pulling you closer to some unseen edge. His fingers tightened around your nipple, rolling it between them, and you felt yourself teetering on the brink of something explosive.

Yoongi groaned, his grip almost bruising now, his thrusts turning erratic. "You gonna come for me again?" he rasped, his hips thrusting into you harder, each one was met with your breath hitching in your throat before you moaned. Loud.

"Gonna fall apart on my cock?"

It was too much—too good.

"I know what you want, love. What will make you cum around my cock."

Your body began to tense, your muscles coiling tighter and tighter as he spoke. "You want it rough," he growled, his thrusts becoming more savage, more primal.

"You want me to take you apart, piece by piece." His grip on your breast tightened, his fingers digging deep into your skin, and you felt yourself spiralling out of control.

His hand left your breast to envelope around your throat, his fingers wrapping tightly around your neck, his thumb pressing against the underside of your jaw. That was it. Your moans got even louder and he raised a brow. You felt a flutter in your chest as his grip tightened, his eyes burning with an intense hunger as he gazed into yours and he slowed down to observe your face that certainly did not hide any pleasure.

"Kinky," he rasped, his voice low and dirty. "So fucking kinky."

He held you in place, his grip on your throat tightening ever so slightly, he began to move his hips again, his cock stirring back to life inside you. His eyes burned with an intense desire, and you could feel the tension building in his body as he drove into you with slow, deliberate strokes.

"I'm going to fill you up, babe" he growled, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to make you take every last drop of me." And with that, he began to thrust into you harder again, faster again, his hips pounding against yours as he chased your release. You felt him swelling inside you, his cock growing thicker and hotter as he approached the edge.

Your orgasm crashed into you, and you could not even stop it. You wanted this to last until your body shuts down from all that pleasure he has given you. Your body locking up as pleasure burns through every nerve ending. You clenched around him, drawing a strangled moan from his lips, his hips snapping forward one last time before he broke. His release spilt deep inside you as he let out a low, guttural groan, his semen erupting into you in a hot, pulsing flood that warmed your walls. You felt him shudder and convulse above you, his body trembling with pleasure as he emptied himself into your waiting flesh

The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of being filled and claimed by him almost too much to bear. His chest heaving with exertion and for a moment, neither of you moved.

"You're so fucking mine," he murmured, voice still thick with satisfaction. He lifted his head to meet your lips once more before he said.

"Don't you ever question my devotion for you—" he started, panting after the little stunt you just pulled. 

“—Or the size of my cock, doll.” 

You only smiled wickedly into his lips. 

“You like us role-playing, tho—“ you started. Yoongi's grip on your waist tightened, his lips brushing over your collarbone as his breath warmed your skin. His hand slid lower, fingers tracing the curve of your body possessively. 

"He could not stop talking about it the whole fucking night, babe."

"Who, Jimin?" he asked, his tone dripping with amusement, yet there was an underlying tension in it, like he was trying to keep himself in check to not turn you over and fuck you in the ass. Even though he had to thank Jimin for this fuck prompt he unknowingly gave you an idea of (such a mundane trope) and the final ride you two just had. The thanking will wait until whenever you decide you want Jimin to know about you two.

Of course, something similar happened at the start of your relationship and you could not help yourself to let him fuck you against that wall once again. This time with a similar scenario but slightly adjusted replicas.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh, though it was edged with a hint of frustration. You shifted under his touch, your heart still racing from the intensity of the night.

"Yeah. Couldn't stop about how people talk about us fucking our brains out here—"

"But we are—" his voice thick with the weight of his meaning, but his tone now softer than before. His mouth pressed against the sensitive skin just below your ear, and his hands pulled you closer, if that was even possible, as if to remind you of just how much he could claim you again and again and again.

You gasped, your body reacting to him in ways you couldn't control, and you felt a rush of vulnerability, knowing how deeply he could read you. "Yoongi," you breathed, trying to keep your composure, but he wasn't making it easy.

"Yeah, you can say that again," Yoongi whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before his teeth grazed the lobe, making your entire body shudder.

You swallowed hard, your head spinning. "I'm serious," you managed to say, even though your voice came out shaky. "Jimin—he thinks I'm still under that dry spell cuz' everybody thinks we're doing it—"

"Let him yap, love."

"Yeah I would, but he went to a point where he talked about how I'm gonna need to buy that Tesla robot to fuck me cuz' no living man will, thanks to you and your not-so-subtle hints that we're doing it—"

"My not-so-subtle hints?" He chuckled.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, feeling a mixture of amusement and frustration. "I mean, he was kinda making some good points," you teased, pretending to think it over. "We do have that whole 'will they, won't they' vibe going on."

Yoongi's fingers paused against your skin for a moment, as if he were considering your words, but then a slow, mischievous smirk crept onto his lips.

"What do you think, babe?"

"I—I think," you stammered, feeling the weight of the moment sink in, "I think we could've been doing a better damn good job of hiding it. But maybe—" You hesitated, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"Maybe it's time we stop pretending."

"Well, next time Jimin mentions our 'vibe,' I'm making him listen to a few of our 'studio sessions.'"

Your eyes widened in mock horror. "Yoongi!" You gave him a dramatic shiver, and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you.

"Exactly," Yoongi said, smirking mischievously. "That'll shut him up real quick."

"Good luck," you teased, tapping his chest lightly. "Maybe he'll start talking about how lucky you are to have me in your corner."

"Lucky, huh?" he mused, pulling you in for a hug. "You're damn right I'm lucky."

You grinned, enjoying the easy banter, letting the tension slip away as you let him hold you. It wasn't about proving anything to anyone—it was just the two of you, sharing this moment, enjoying each other's company and, of course, having a little fun at Jimin's expense.

"Wait—" you just realised.

"You know about my smutty books?!"

He threw his head back and gave a loud throat laugh in response.

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

lots of love, p.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Depollute Me

Summary: You join the BAU and Spencer is a smitten kitten.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: mentions of morgue details from a case, mentions of struggle from a case, alcohol consumptions

Word count: 7.2k

a/n: lol so this has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS i have not read it since then but i feel so bad for never posting anymore so please accept this while i get my life together !!!

Spencer walked into the bullpen on what seemed to be a very typical Monday morning. The hum of chatter and the rhythmic clicking of keyboards filled the air, as it usually did. Without much thought, he placed his well-worn satchel down on his desk, the familiar weight leaving his shoulder as he began his habitual routine. His focus was singular: getting to the breakroom for his morning coffee. The scent of freshly brewed coffee guided him, and within moments, he returned to his desk, ready to dive into the day's work.

As he settled into his chair, Spencer reached for a stack of files when a voice interrupted his concentration. "Reid, did you not notice the new girl?" Morgan's tone was laced with curiosity and a hint of amusement, causing Spencer to pause mid-motion.

“Huh?” Spencer finally looked up, his mind still partially entangled in the tasks he was about to undertake. His routine had been so ingrained that he hadn’t even glanced around the room.

Morgan smirked, nodding towards the far side of the bullpen. "Over by JJ’s office."

Spencer's gaze followed the direction Morgan indicated, and for the first time, he noticed you. A young woman, probably in her mid twenties, was standing near JJ's office, dressed in a sharp, well-tailored pantsuit that hugged her figure in a way that was both professional and undeniably flattering. Your presence was commanding, yet you seemed approachable with an air of confidence.

“Who is that?” Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued as he observed the new arrival with a mixture of intrigue and surprise.

Before Morgan could answer, Hotch, who happened to be walking by at that moment, interjected in his usual calm, authoritative manner. “Agent Y/N Y/L/N,” he informed them, his tone as steady as ever. “She’s from the Sex Crimes Unit, a promising young agent.”

Morgan, ever the one to tease, leaned back in his chair with a playful grin. “Looks like you’re not the baby anymore, pretty boy.”

Spencer, though still focused on the new agent, managed to respond with a slight shrug. “I’m okay with that.” His voice was soft, but there was a hint of relief in his words. Perhaps the idea of no longer being the youngest on the team was a comforting thought.

Hotch, who was moving on to another task, paused briefly to add one more detail, as if to settle any lingering questions. “She’s older than you, Reid. Actually.”

Morgan, not missing a beat, raised an eyebrow. “How old? She looks good,” he remarked, his eyes still on you, appreciating your composed demeanor and striking appearance.

Hotch, always the voice of reason and decorum, shot Morgan a warning look. “Morgan,” he cautioned, before continuing, “she’s 28.”

“I’m almost 28…” Spencer mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, as if to rationalize his place on the team.

“Okay, baby,” Morgan teased, chuckling as he reached over to playfully ruffle Spencer’s hair. The affectionate gesture was a typical part of their dynamic, one that Spencer had grown accustomed to over the years.

Spencer gave a small smile, shaking his head slightly at Morgan's teasing, but his mind was already drifting back to the new agent. There was something about you that intrigued him, and he found himself wondering what it would be like to work alongside you. The idea of no longer being the youngest wasn’t as unsettling as it once might have been.

“Agents, round table, five minutes,” Hotch’s voice cut through the usual hum of activity in the bullpen. The announcement was direct, as always, leaving no room for delay or distraction. Spencer, along with the rest of the team, immediately began to gather their things, each of them accustomed to the rhythm of their work.

As the team filed into the conference room and took their usual seats around the round table, there was an undercurrent of curiosity in the air. Eyes subtly darted towards the new face at the table, though the attempts at being inconspicuous were, in truth, anything but. It was clear that everyone was eager to learn more about the person who would be joining their tight-knit group.

Hotch, standing at the head of the table, wasted no time in addressing the elephant in the room. “As you have all noticed, we have a new member joining the team,” he began, his voice steady as he motioned towards you. “This is Agent Y/N Y/L/N. She’s joining us from Sex Crimes.”

A chorus of greetings filled the room, each team member offering their version of “hello” or “welcome.” Despite the collective effort to make you feel at ease, Spencer couldn’t tear his gaze away from you. His usual reserved nature gave way to an inexplicable fascination with your confident yet soft demeanor. The way you met each person’s eyes with a small, genuine smile only deepened his curiosity.

As Hotch briefed the team, Spencer’s thoughts kept drifting back to you. He noticed how attentively you listened, your calm focus suggesting you were already a step ahead. His mind wandered, wondering about your experiences, your approach, and who you were beyond the BAU walls.

When your eyes briefly met his, Spencer felt a jolt of something unfamiliar. The room seemed to fade as he quickly looked down, warmth creeping up his neck. It was unusual for him to be so distracted during a briefing, but there was something about you that he couldn’t quite place.

As the team dispersed, Spencer hesitated, glancing at you again. He wondered if you had noticed his lapse in concentration, but your calm, professional expression gave nothing away. Now, he couldn’t help but feel both eager and off balance, curious about how you would fit into the team—and what that might mean for him.

—

It was your first away case with the team, and as you boarded the jet, the weight of newness settled on your shoulders. The BAU team moved with the ease of seasoned travelers, each member instinctively knowing their place and routine. You, on the other hand, hesitated, unsure of where to sit, not wanting to take anyone's usual spot and disrupt the unspoken order.

As you stood there, trying to decide, Emily caught your eye and offered you a warm, reassuring smile. "Hey, why don't you sit next to me?" she suggested kindly, patting the seat beside her.

Grateful for her understanding, you nodded and made your way over, sliding into the seat she had saved for you. The small gesture of kindness made the moment feel a little less daunting, easing the nervousness that had been creeping in since you’d learned about the case. 

As the team engaged in a lively discussion about the case, you tried to focus on the file in front of you, but a strange sensation crept over you—a shiver that ran down your spine, leaving a trail of unease in its wake. It felt as though someone was watching you, and the thought was impossible to ignore.

Lifting your eyes from the file, you glanced toward the couch on the jet. There he was, Doctor Spencer Reid, as you'd been introduced to him earlier. His gaze was unmistakably fixed on you, a quiet intensity in his eyes that you could feel even from across the cabin. The moment your eyes met, his gaze snapped away, almost too quickly, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

It was curious, to say the least. 

—

The team had just settled into the bustling Milwaukee precinct, the air thick with the tension of a new case and the quiet hum of police activity around them. Hotch stood at the center of the room, efficiently handing out assignments with his usual calm authority. 

“Reid, Y/L/N, you go to the morgue,” Hotch instructed, his voice steady as he looked between the two of you. 

Spencer felt a jolt of nervousness shoot through him at the assignment. The idea of spending time alone with you set his mind racing. His thoughts spiraled through a thousand different scenarios—what he would say, how he would act, whether you would notice his awkwardness. He tried to hide his unease, but the tightening in his chest betrayed how out of sorts he felt.

You, on the other hand, felt a surge of excitement at the prospect. The morgue wasn’t exactly a thrilling destination, but the chance to spend time with Spencer, the quiet and enigmatic doctor, piqued your interest. You’d been curious about him since you joined the team, drawn to the way his mind seemed to work in layers, each one more complex than the last. This was an opportunity to maybe get to know him better, to see beyond the brilliant profiler and into the person behind those thoughtful eyes.

As the two of you gathered your things and prepared to head out, Spencer gave you a small, tentative smile, his nerves still bubbling just beneath the surface. You returned the smile with genuine warmth, hoping to ease the tension you sensed in him. 

“Ready to go?” you asked, your tone light and encouraging.

Spencer nodded, his voice just a little tight as he replied, “Yeah, let’s do this.”

As you both made your way out of the precinct, the silence between you was comfortable, filled with the potential of what this small assignment could reveal. For Spencer, it was a chance to navigate the unfamiliar territory of getting to know someone new; for you, it was an exciting step toward understanding the mystery that was Doctor Spencer Reid.

“Do you, um, do you mind driving?” Spencer asked, his voice carrying a slight edge of hesitation as the two of you stood by the car.

You smiled, already finding his nervousness endearing. “No, not at all. Do you not like to drive?” you asked as you unlocked the car.

“I find it helps me focus more on the case if I don’t also have to focus on the road,” he explained, his words coming out in a rush as if he was worried about how you might take it.

You couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “Oh, so I don’t need to focus as much as you?” you joked, throwing him a playful glance as you slid into the driver’s seat.

But Spencer, usually taking things quite literally, didn’t catch on to your teasing. His eyes widened slightly as he quickly tried to clarify. “No, no, not at all. I only meant that my mind is so busy all the time, and I—I just, I need to think a lot and—” His words tumbled out, his voice growing a bit more frantic as he tried to explain.

You immediately felt a pang of guilt for having flustered him. “Doctor Reid, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stress you out,” you said softly, cutting off his rambling. “I was only joking.”

There was a moment of silence, then Spencer took a small breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Spencer,” he corrected gently, his tone more composed now. “You can call me Spencer.”

You smiled, nodding as you started the car. “Alright, Spencer,” you agreed, feeling the ice between you start to melt just a little as you pulled out of the parking lot.

—

The sterile, cold air of the morgue enveloped you both as you walked through the doors, the metallic scent of antiseptic mingling with the faint, almost imperceptible odor of decay. The medical examiner, a middle-aged man with weary eyes, greeted you with a curt nod before leading you to the body you were there to examine.

As the examiner began to explain the preliminary findings, you focused intently on the details, your eyes scanning the body and the evidence laid out on the stainless steel table. Spencer stood beside you, his attention divided between listening to the examiner and observing your reactions. 

As the examiner pointed out a series of bruises on the victim’s torso, you leaned in slightly, narrowing your eyes at the pattern. Something about it struck you as odd, but familiar. “These bruises,” you started, gesturing to them, “they’re not random. They look like they could be the result of a struggle, but not just any struggle—these marks here,” you pointed to a specific set, “they’re consistent with someone trying to defend themselves against a chokehold. The position and depth suggest they were made by the victim’s own hands, trying to pry off an attacker.”

The examiner paused, blinking in surprise. “I hadn’t considered that,” he admitted, clearly impressed by your quick assessment.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, his curiosity piqued by your insight. He leaned in closer to examine the bruises, following the line of your observation. “You’re right,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and intrigue. “That makes sense, given the angle and the force. It would explain the bruising pattern on the victim’s neck as well.”

He looked up at you, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “That was a good catch,” he said, his tone genuinely appreciative. It wasn’t often that someone impressed him with such a sharp, on-the-spot observation, especially in an area where his own expertise usually dominated.

You smiled back, feeling a warm flush of pride at his acknowledgment. “Thanks, Spencer,” you replied, the use of his first name feeling more natural now, as if that small barrier had already begun to dissolve. 

—

As you and Spencer drove back to the precinct, the earlier tension from the morgue had dissipated, leaving behind a more relaxed atmosphere. 

“So, Spencer,” you began, glancing over at him with a playful smile, “I have to ask, how did you get so good at noticing the smallest details? I mean, do you practice in your free time? Like, do you just walk around analyzing random people for fun?”

Spencer chuckled softly, clearly amused by the question. “Not exactly,” he replied, his tone light. “It’s more of a habit at this point. I’ve always been observant, even when I was a kid. I guess it just… developed naturally over time.”

You tilted your head, pretending to be impressed. “Naturally, huh? So, it’s like a superpower then? I bet you can tell all kinds of things about a person just by looking at them.” 

Spencer smiled, his gaze flickering between you and the road. “It’s not quite that dramatic,” he said, modest as ever. “But, yeah, I can usually pick up on a lot of details that others might miss.”

You decided to push the playful banter a little further. “So, what about me, then? What details have you picked up?” you teased, leaning in slightly, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Spencer blinked, taken aback by the question. He clearly hadn’t expected you to turn the tables on him like that. “Um, well,” he stammered, his mind racing to formulate a response that wouldn’t sound too personal or invasive. “I’ve noticed that you’re very passionate about your work, that you’re observant, and that you care a lot about doing the right thing.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his answer, even though it was far more earnest than you’d intended. “That’s sweet, Spencer,” you said softly. “But I was thinking more along the lines of what color my eyes are, or how you noticed I always play with my jewelry when I’m thinking.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly as he processed your words, clearly not catching on to the flirtatious undertone. “Oh, well, your eyes are a very nice shade of y/e/c,” he said earnestly. “And I did notice that you play with your jewelry sometimes when you’re concentrating. It’s a subconscious gesture, probably something you do without realizing it.”

You bit back a laugh, charmed by his obliviousness. “You really are good, Doctor Reid,” you teased lightly. “But I was just messing with you. I didn’t expect you to take me so seriously.”

Spencer looked over at you, a bit of confusion in his expression, though it quickly gave way to a small, sheepish smile. “Oh… I guess I missed that,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in that endearing way he did when he was flustered.

You grinned, feeling a strange sense of affection for his sincerity. “It’s okay, Spencer. It just means you’re genuine—and I like that.”

As the car pulled into the precinct parking lot, the playful exchange left both of you feeling a little lighter. Spencer might have missed the flirtation, but in the process, you’d managed to break down some of the walls between you, leaving the door open for more conversations, more connections, and maybe, just maybe, something more down the line.

—

Penelope had extended one of her famously warm invitations to the entire team, promising a night of lively conversation, good food, and the kind of camaraderie that only the BAU could understand. Her apartment, as always, was a bright and eclectic haven, filled with quirky decorations, cozy seating areas, and the unmistakable aroma of something delicious wafting from the kitchen.

As the evening wore on, the sound of laughter and animated chatter filled the room. Drinks were poured, stories were shared, and the general atmosphere was one of relaxation and enjoyment. Penelope, ever the gracious host, moved through the crowd like a butterfly, making sure everyone was comfortable and having a good time.

You found yourself in the middle of a conversation with JJ and Emily, the three of you discussing everything from recent cases to more lighthearted topics. Spencer, meanwhile, was across the room, engaged in a deep discussion with Hotch and Rossi. Yet, despite the separate conversations, you couldn’t help but notice how often your gaze drifted toward him—and how, more than once, you caught him glancing back at you.

It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed. As the evening continued, you began to pick up on a subtle undercurrent among the team, a shared look or knowing smile exchanged between your colleagues whenever you and Spencer were in close proximity. It was as if everyone had collectively decided that tonight was the night to push the two of you a little closer together.

“Hey, Y/N,” Emily said, her voice carrying a hint of mischief as she casually steered you toward the couch where Spencer had just sat down. “Why don’t you grab a seat? Looks like there’s plenty of room.”

You shot her a playful glare, fully aware of what she was doing, but you didn’t resist. With a small smile, you took the spot next to Spencer, who glanced up at you with a shy, yet pleased expression.

“Hi, Spencer,” you greeted him, settling into the seat and feeling the warmth of his presence beside you.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice soft but with a touch of warmth that made you feel at ease. The two of you exchanged a small smile, and for a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background.

Before you could say anything more, Morgan appeared out of nowhere, a wide grin on his face as he handed both you and Spencer a drink. “There you go, pretty boy, Y/N. You two look like you could use a refill,” he said, his tone far too innocent to be sincere.

You accepted the drink with a raised eyebrow. “Thanks, Morgan,” you replied, your tone matching his in playful suspicion. You knew exactly what he was up to, but you decided to play along, taking a sip of your drink as you glanced at Spencer.

Spencer, for his part, seemed slightly oblivious to the team’s not-so-subtle matchmaking attempts, though there was a faint blush on his cheeks as he took his drink from Morgan. “Thanks, Derek,” he mumbled, clearly trying to avoid the knowing look in Morgan’s eyes.

The team's subtle matchmaking efforts became more apparent, each of them playing their part with a touch of mischief. Rossi, always one for a good story, managed to draw you into a conversation about a particularly tricky case the team had solved a few years back.

“So, Y/N,” Rossi began, a twinkle in his eye, “have you ever encountered a case where the suspect used historical ciphers to communicate with their victims?”

You tilted your head, intrigued but knowing exactly where this was going. “No, I have not. Why do you ask?”

Rossi leaned back, gesturing towards Spencer with a grin. “Because our very own Dr. Reid is an expert in ciphers, and I’d bet he could tell you all about the time he cracked one in record time.”

Spencer, who had been quietly listening, perked up at the mention of his expertise. “Oh, well, it wasn’t exactly record time,” he said modestly, but Rossi’s encouragement had already drawn him in. “But it was a fascinating case. The unsub used a modified version of the Zodiac cipher, which was particularly challenging because—”

As Spencer launched into a detailed explanation, you couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly Rossi had managed to pull you both into the conversation. The discussion flowed naturally from there, and you found yourself genuinely interested in Spencer’s insights, occasionally offering your own thoughts, which Spencer seemed to appreciate.

Not long after, Penelope gathered everyone together for a game she had prepared. “Alright, everyone, time for a little fun! We’re playing ‘Celebrity!’” she announced, holding up a bowl filled with slips of paper. “And wouldn’t you know it, Y/N, you and Spencer are on the same team!”

You caught Penelope’s wink as she handed you the bowl, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “What are the odds?” you joked, taking your seat next to Spencer.

Spencer looked a little surprised but quickly smiled, clearly pleased by the arrangement. “I guess we’ll have to work together,” he said, his tone light.

Throughout the game, the team’s delight in pairing the two of you together was obvious, with Emily and Morgan offering exaggerated praise whenever you and Spencer managed to score points. “Great teamwork, you two!” Emily called out with a grin. “It’s like you can read each other’s minds!”

Spencer flushed slightly at the comment, but he seemed to enjoy the playful camaraderie, even if he wasn’t entirely sure why everyone was making such a big deal out of it.

Later, even Hotch joined in on the subtle matchmaking, calling both you and Spencer into the kitchen to help with an entirely unnecessary task. “I need a hand in here,” Hotch said, waving you both over. “This cake isn’t going to cut itself.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the already-cut cake sitting on the counter, but you went along with it, smiling as you grabbed a knife. “Looks like we’ve been drafted,” you quipped.

Spencer smiled awkwardly but followed your lead, picking up a plate. “Yeah, it’s… good to be useful,” he said, his tone a little unsure but genuine.

The two of you worked side by side, the conversation light and easy. You couldn’t help but notice how comfortable it felt to be around him, even in the most mundane tasks. And as you laughed together over something trivial, you caught Hotch’s subtle nod of approval from the corner of your eye.

As the party began to wind down and people started to gather their things to leave, you and Spencer found yourselves standing near the door, alone for the first time that evening. The energy of the night had brought you closer, and the playful encouragement from the team had only served to make that connection feel more natural.

“I had a really good time tonight,” you said, your voice soft as you turned to Spencer.

He looked at you with a gentle smile, his nervousness from earlier in the night long gone. “I did too,” he replied, his tone sincere. “It was nice… spending time with you.”

You couldn’t help but feel a warmth in your chest at his words. “I think we make a pretty good team, don’t you?” you teased lightly, echoing Emily’s earlier comment.

Spencer’s smile widened just a little, though he still seemed a bit oblivious to the underlying meaning. “Yeah, I think we do,” he agreed, his eyes meeting yours in a way that felt significant.

There was a brief moment of silence between you, comfortable and filled with possibility. The evening had left you with a sense of warmth, the connection between you and Spencer deepening in ways that felt both unexpected and natural. “Goodnight, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice lingering with a hint of something more, your eyes meeting his in a way that made the simple farewell feel like it carried more weight.

Spencer hesitated for a second, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes before he spoke. “Can I, um, can I drive you home?” he asked, his tone a little shy but hopeful, as if he wasn’t quite sure if it was okay to ask.

You blinked in surprise, then remembered that you had seen him with a drink earlier in the evening. “You were drinking too, Spencer,” you pointed out gently, not wanting to put him in an uncomfortable position.

Spencer’s lips quirked up in a small smile as he shook his head. “I don’t drink alcohol,” he explained, his voice calm and reassuring. “They were nonalcoholic.”

You felt a smile tug at the corners of your mouth, warmth spreading through you at his thoughtfulness. “Oh, well in that case,” you said, your voice softening as you looked at him, “I’d really like that.”

His eyes brightened at your response, and he gave a small, almost relieved nod. “Great,” he said, the awkwardness from earlier replaced by a quiet confidence. “Let me just grab my keys.”

As you waited for him, you couldn’t help but feel that this simple offer—this small, thoughtful gesture—was a sign of something more, something that might grow between you. And as the two of you walked out together, the night air cool against your skin, you found yourself looking forward to the drive, and to whatever might come next.

—

While guests began to filter out of Penelope's apartment, Hotch and Rossi found themselves lingering in the cozy living room, the buzz of the evening winding down. The two men exchanged a glance as they noticed you and Spencer leaving together, Spencer opening the car door for you with his usual quiet charm.

Rossi chuckled softly, taking a sip of his drink as he watched the scene unfold. “You know, Aaron,” he began, a hint of amusement in his voice, “I think those two might just be good for each other.”

Hotch followed Rossi’s gaze a small, rare smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly, his tone thoughtful. “They would make a nice pair.”

Rossi nodded, setting his glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Spencer needs someone like Y/N—someone patient, who sees the world a little differently, but isn’t afraid to challenge him.”

Hotch tilted his head slightly, considering Rossi’s words. “And anyone could use someone like Spencer,” he added.

Rossi smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “It’s not often you see something like that—a connection that just feels… natural.”

Hotch chuckled softly, a sound that was more a breath than a laugh. “It’s about time Spencer found someone who really gets him.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips. “And maybe someone who can keep up with that brain of his.”

Hotch’s smile grew a little wider at that. “She’s got her work cut out for her, then.”

They shared a knowing look, they’d both be quietly rooting for you and Spencer.

—

As Spencer opened the car door for you, you slid into the passenger seat with a smile, appreciating the small but considerate gesture. He walked around to the driver’s side and settled in, adjusting the mirrors and checking the controls with his usual meticulousness. The quiet hum of the engine filled the space as he started the car, and soon enough, you were on the road, the city lights passing by in a soft blur.

For a few moments, the two of you were content with the silence, letting the calm of the evening settle over you. But then, curiosity got the better of you, and you turned slightly in your seat to look at Spencer, your gaze soft but inquisitive.

“So, Spencer,” you began, your tone light, “you don’t drink alcohol at all? Or just not tonight?”

Spencer glanced over at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not at all, actually,” he admitted. “I’ve never really liked the way it makes me feel. Plus, it’s kind of a personal choice—helps me stay sharp, especially with work.”

You nodded, finding that very much in line with what you’d learned about him so far. “That makes sense,” you replied, your voice warm. “I can see how that would be important for you. You always seem so… focused.”

Spencer chuckled softly, a touch of bashfulness in his tone. “I try to be,” he said. “But it’s not always easy. My mind tends to wander a lot.”

You smiled at that, sensing an opportunity to tease him just a little. “Wander? You? I would’ve never guessed,” you said with playful exaggeration, giving him a sideways glance.

He laughed, the sound quiet but genuine. “Yeah, well, it happens more often than you’d think. Especially when I’m trying to solve a problem or figure something out. My brain just… runs in all these different directions.”

“I’d love to see that in action,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. When you realized how it might sound, you quickly added, “I mean, it must be fascinating to see how your mind works.”

Spencer glanced at you again, this time with a slightly more serious expression, though there was still a hint of that shy smile. “I guess I’ve just always been wired that way. It’s part of why I love what I do. But it can be… isolating sometimes, you know? People don’t always get it.”

You nodded, understanding the sentiment all too well. “Yeah, I can relate to that,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “I think a lot of us in this line of work feel that way at times. It’s hard for people outside of it to really understand what we go through, what we see.”

There was a moment of shared silence, both of you reflecting on what you’d said. Then, wanting to lighten the mood a bit, you turned the conversation back to something a little more playful.

“So, what do you do for fun, Spencer? When you’re not solving crimes and noticing everything that no one else does?” you asked with a teasing lilt to your voice.

Spencer seemed to relax a bit more, the serious tone easing as he thought about your question. “Well,” he began, “I like to read, obviously. I’m a bit of a collector when it comes to rare books. And, um, I also enjoy magic tricks.”

“Magic tricks?” you repeated, intrigued and a little surprised. “I didn’t expect that.”

Spencer smiled, the warmth in his expression growing. “Yeah, I picked it up as a kid. It’s something that stuck with me. I guess I like the challenge of it—figuring out how to manipulate perception, how to create something that seems impossible.”

You leaned in a little, genuinely fascinated. “That’s actually really cool. You’ll have to show me a trick sometime.”

He glanced at you, a spark of excitement in his eyes at the idea. “I’d like that,” he said simply.

As the conversation continued, the two of you fell into an easy rhythm, exchanging stories and little details about your lives. You learned that Spencer had an insatiable curiosity for nearly everything, and that he was just as eager to hear about your interests and experiences. There were moments of gentle teasing, of light laughter, and as the night wore on, it felt as though the distance between you was closing, replaced by a budding connection that was both comfortable and exciting.

By the time Spencer pulled up in front of your place, you felt like you’d gotten to know him in a way that few probably had—a glimpse beneath the layers of the brilliant, sometimes awkward genius to the kind, thoughtful person underneath.

“Thank you for the ride, Spencer,” you said as you unbuckled your seatbelt, turning to face him. “And for the conversation. I really enjoyed tonight.”

Spencer’s smile was warm, and this time, there was a hint of confidence in it. “I did too,” he replied, his voice soft. “Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

You felt your heart skip a beat at the suggestion, a smile spreading across your face. “I’d like that,” you said, letting the sincerity of your words hang in the air for a moment.

With one last smile, you stepped out of the car, the cool night air brushing your skin as you walked to your door. Glancing back, you caught Spencer’s eyes; he gave a shy wave before driving off without hesitation. As you unlocked your door, it struck you—you’d never met a man who didn’t try to make a move in such a moment. 

It was refreshing, and his sincerity left you smiling. There was something deeply endearing about how content he seemed just to share your company. As you settled in for the night, a warm feeling lingered.

—

Monday morning arrived with the usual hum of activity in the bullpen, but there was a new kind of energy in the air—one that had you exchanging sweet, shy glances with Spencer across the room. Every time your eyes met, it was like a quiet acknowledgment of the evening you had shared, a soft connection that lingered between you.

As you settled into your desk, organizing your files and preparing for the day ahead, you were pleasantly surprised when Spencer walked by, gently placing a mug of coffee on your desk. The familiar aroma wafted up, and you immediately recognized it as your favorite blend, made just the way you liked it.

“Spencer… thank you,” you said softly, picking up the mug and taking a tentative sip. It was perfect, just as you expected. You looked up at him, curiosity tinged with warmth in your eyes. “How did you know?”

Spencer’s lips curled into a small, almost bashful smile, his hands fidgeting slightly. “I pay attention,” he replied simply, his voice just above a whisper, as if the words held more meaning than they seemed.

Your heart fluttered at his response, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. There was something incredibly endearing about how Spencer had noticed something so small, yet so personal. It wasn’t just the coffee—it was the care and thoughtfulness behind the gesture that made your heart skip a beat.

Smitten might have been an understatement for how you felt in that moment. You held his gaze for a moment longer, the unspoken understanding between you growing stronger with each passing second.

“Thank you,” you repeated, your voice soft and full of appreciation.

Spencer gave a quick, shy nod before retreating to his desk, his own heart racing from the brief but meaningful exchange. 

—

Wednesday morning, you made your way to Spencer’s desk. In your hand, you held a donut topped with colorful sprinkles, a small token of your growing affection.

Reaching Spencer’s desk, you gently placed the donut in front of him, your hand brushing against his arm ever so slightly. The brief contact sent a spark through you, a tiny thrill that lingered as you stepped back.

Spencer looked up, surprise flickering across his face before it softened into a smile. “Y/N? Thank you,” he said, his voice tinged with both gratitude and a hint of that shyness you found so endearing.

You smiled back, your eyes meeting his. “A sweet treat for a sweet man,” you replied, your tone light yet full of sincerity.

For a moment, Spencer just stared at you, his cheeks flushing slightly as he took in your words. It wasn’t often that he received compliments like that, especially not from someone who meant as much to him as you were beginning to.

“Thank you,” he repeated, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were trying to savor the moment.

You gave him a soft smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his reaction. It was such a small gesture, but the way he looked at you made it feel like so much more. As you walked back to your desk, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder, catching him as he carefully picked up the donut, a faint smile playing on his lips.

—

“I think I’m going to ask her on a date,” Spencer said, his voice filled with a mixture of determination and nervousness as he spoke to Penelope in the breakroom.

“Y/N?” Penelope’s eyes lit up with excitement, a grin spreading across her face. She had been hoping for this moment for a while now.

Spencer paused for a moment, then, with a rare touch of humor, he replied, “No, Emily.”

Penelope blinked, caught off guard by his response, before quickly catching on to his teasing. She narrowed her eyes playfully at him, placing a hand on her hip. “I don’t think that would go over well, my love.”

Spencer couldn’t help but smile, feeling a bit more at ease with the banter. “Y/N or Emily?” he asked, his tone just as playful, though there was a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

Penelope laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t think Y/N or Emily would take well to you asking Emily on a date,” she said, her voice softening. “But, Y/n would be over the moon if you asked her out, Spencer. Trust me.”

Spencer nodded, a bit more confidence building inside him as he imagined what it might be like to take that step. “Yeah,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Penelope. “I think you’re right.”

Penelope gave him an encouraging smile, her eyes twinkling with excitement for her friend. “Go get her, Reid,” she said gently, patting his arm. “You’ve got this.”

Spencer took a deep breath, feeling both the weight and the thrill of the decision he was about to make. “Thanks, Penelope,” he said, giving her a grateful look before heading back to his desk, his mind now focused on how he was going to ask you out.

—

You stood in front of the elevator, the thought of a relaxing Friday evening at home making you eager to get out of the office. Your couch was practically calling your name, promising comfort after a long week. Just as the elevator doors began to slide open, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Y/N, wait up!”

You turned with a smile, spotting Spencer hurrying toward you. “I’m not moving, Spencer,” you giggled, teasing him lightly. “I’m waiting for the elevator.”

“Right… right,” he stammered, laughing awkwardly as he reached you, his hand instinctively going to the back of his neck, a gesture you had come to find endearing. 

“What's up, weirdo?” you asked, still smiling as you watched him struggle to find his words.

Spencer took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with determination and nervousness. “Will you go out with me?” he blurted out, the words tumbling out faster than he intended.

You didn’t hesitate for even a second. “Yes.”

Spencer blinked, clearly caught off guard by how quickly you responded. “I don’t want to make things awkward, but I love spending time with you and—wait, what?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, his genuine surprise making the moment even sweeter. “I said yes, Spencer,” you repeated, your voice warm and reassuring.

Spencer’s eyes widened, a mixture of relief and joy flooding his expression. “You did? I mean, you did!” he stammered, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Wow, okay… this is great!”

The elevator doors opened just as he finished speaking, and you both stepped inside, the excitement of the moment bubbling between you. As the doors closed, Spencer couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could you.

“So, where are we going?” you asked, leaning slightly toward him as the elevator began its descent.

Spencer glanced at you, his smile softening into something more tender. “Anywhere you want,” he said quietly.

—

The evening unfolded exactly as you had hoped, with one delightful twist. You and Spencer ended up on your couch, both of you dressed in comfortable pajamas, a warm pizza box resting on the coffee table in front of you. The aroma of melted cheese and spices filled the room, adding to the cozy atmosphere.

Spencer was leaning back into the cushions, a slice of pizza in hand, his long legs stretched out comfortably. You were nestled beside him, your feet tucked under a soft blanket, feeling utterly content. It was the relaxing Friday evening you had been craving, only now it was even better with Spencer there beside you.

“This is nice,” Spencer said softly, breaking the comfortable silence as he took another bite of his pizza.

You glanced over at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “It really is,” you agreed, reaching for your own slice. “Exactly what I needed after this week.”

He looked at you, his eyes warm and a little shy, as if he couldn’t quite believe that this was happening. “I can’t believe this is what you wanted to do tonight,” he admitted, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “But I’m really glad it is.”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your elbow. “Spencer, this is perfect. It’s exactly what I wanted—good food, good company, and no pressure to do anything but relax.”

He smiled at that, clearly relieved and happy. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said, his voice gentle as he looked at you with that familiar, earnest gaze.

As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed easily between bites of pizza and sips of soda. You talked about everything and nothing—cases, hobbies, favorite books, and the little things that made each of you laugh. It felt natural, effortless, like this was where you both were meant to be.

Eventually, you found yourself leaning into Spencer’s side, your head resting on his shoulder as you both watched the TV, a movie playing softly in the background. He wrapped his arm around you, his touch light and careful, as if he were still marveling at how right this felt.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the moment wash over you. It was the relaxing Friday evening you had wanted, with the added bonus of the guy you wanted right there with you. As you snuggled closer, a contented sigh escaped your lips.

This was perfect.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005 

[svmjaeyvn]

hidden love, l.hs

synopsis: there were two things that park jongseong reiterated to you growing up.

1: he was the better, funnier, smarter, awesomer sibling and always would be, and 2: you were to never, ever, fall for any guys like his friends, literally and figuratively.

the first was a lie, one you always rolled your eyes at and the second was something 12-year-old you always agreed to without hesitation. but with time, they soon both became a fib from your lips, 14-year-old you coming to the disastrous realization that boys weren't as icky as you once thought and your older brother's best friend had the prettiest smile (when he wasn't being annoying.) as you continued to grow older, those fluttering emotions grew as well, even with him heading off to university it seemed to leave you with a sense of longing, happier than ever when he'd visit.

until you were 16 and he came home with a girl, one that was far prettier than you were able to compete with in your head and nice enough to be a saint. your hopeless, devastating one-sided crush was forced to be swallowed without much pride, though it held no avail until you dramatically decided to never speak to heeseung again. and it worked, ignoring all his calls and texts, avoiding your family home like the plague whenever your brother was home for break if he was visiting, and simply acting entirely clueless in the unfortunate circumstances that you did end up caught by him, chalking it up to dramatic teenage hormones.

once you reached the age of it being your turn to head to college, you signed up for every exchange program possible, leaving you traveling the world for three years that passed with no contact and your once-upon-a-time crush nearly forgotten. that was until you came back home, finally settling to finish uni and all of a sudden you were a kid again, fawning over your brother's best friend who didn't know how to leave you alone. this time though, heeseung didn't see you as that annoying kid who followed jay around, he saw you for you which scared him so much more with how you've grown and nothing was worse than him feeling something for his best friend's off-limits little sister.

featuring: lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon, nishimura riki, kim sunoo, yang jungwon, hanni pham, kim chaweon, yoon keeho, yoon yechan

status: writing. start: 03/30/24. end: tba.

genre: non-idol!au, college/young adult!enha, heeseung x reader, slight age gap (4 years), brothers best friend trope

content & warnings: age gap??? (slightly questionable morality but no romantic feelings or grooming since they end up with no contact for years until adulthood), cursing, drinking, all that jazz, innuendos, sexual humor, suggestive content, possible smut, forbidden relationship, sneaking around, overprotective jay, jay tries to fight heeseung cause duh, crazy exs, stalker mention, slow burn since they're both in denial, heeseung kind of toxic mentality which is forced to be fix, angst but fluffy ending (?)

a/n: based off the cdrama. watched it months ago but shit had me giggling and kicking my feet even if it's cliche. heeseung is so forbbidden older love coded i had to. im trying to make this a oneshot so well see how long it is,,,,,,, the plot will develop from when they were kids to adulthood to provide some background. once the actual romance starts heeseung will be 24 and reader will be 20 (the year will be 2025). all my drafts and writing has been about jake so im branching out (i love my man tho so he'll have his moments here). anyway! lets see how long it takes me to finish up this one

word count: 6k (as of now)

taglist: closed! (86 of you have responded omg)