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mainly a reading account

[harrystyles-recommendations]

personal favourites

not in order <3

tastes like strawberries - by @watchmegetobsessed

description: “a fic about professor!Harry and a psychological experiment with candies that leads to a whole lot more…”

pairing: professor!harry x reader

warnings: sexual content, abusing relationship, angst, fluff

{part two} - angst, fluff, sexual content

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[jay-verse]

[selencgraphy]

— 𝐒𝐎 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍

SUMMARY: five times you almost say i love you and the one time you do

PAIRING: callum turner x gn!american!reader

TAGS: FLUFF, inspired by “so american” by olivia rodrigo, established relationship, song references (some obvious, some less obvious), fluff!!

A/N: started this when i was in my callum turner era and had this song on repeat so here we are… it’s vaguely set in socal bc i was feeling a tad bit homesick at the time… anyways, i’m not going to be writing out the lyrics to olivia’s song but the scenarios are heavily inspired by them. knowing the lyrics is ofc not a requirement to read this, you can 100% go into this without that knowledge and enjoy some cute fluff! i hope yall enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

masterlist || request box <3

The first time you almost said “I love you” was when he took you on a date to the beach.

Your feet were up on the dashboard as he drove, head against the seat and hand lazily weaving through the breeze out the open window.  It was beautiful out—the sun blazing high in the sky with no clouds in sight and the temperature just right. When the starting beats to Cruel Summer roared through the car’s speakers, the brightest smile grew on your face. When the chorus hit, you turned to face Callum and sing, eyes widening when he starting singing along with you.

“You know this song?”

He chuckled. Gosh, his smile. “Of course, I know this song.”

As the bridge of the song played, you both shouted along. 

And I screamed for whatever it's worth "I love you," ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

Almost as if the universe timed it perfectly, the song came to an end as Callum parked. As you giggled in the aftermath, you couldn’t help but admire him for a moment. The way his eyes matched the sky. The way his curls fell on his head from the wind. The way his cheeks grew as red the larger he smiled. “S’rude to stare, sweetheart.”

“I-“ Before you could finish your sentence, you cut yourself off.

“What?” he asked.

“I can’t help it,” you played off. “You’re just so pretty.”

The second time you almost said it was while he was dying his hair in preparation for The Boys in the Boat.

“How’s it lookin’, love?” Callum asked as you rinsed the bleach out of his hair.

You leaned back to get a better look at him. “It looks very… yellow,” you giggle.

He quickly stands and goes to look in the mirror, a hand stretching his hair to see for himself. “Is it supposed to look like this?”

You grinned in amusement as he cringed at the color of his hair. “S’a good thing we got purple shampoo.” As he sat down on the edge of the tub, you rummaged in the plastic bag you had bought the hair supplies in. Replacing the gloves you had on, you stood in front of him and poured a little bit in your hands, carefully spreading it through his hair. Even as you focused on getting his hair done, you didn’t fail to notice the way he stared at you as you worked.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to stare, Cal?” His face flushed.

“S’not my fault you’re so pretty,” he whispered, his hands going to rest on your waist. Your chest clenched at his words, your own cheeks reddening. Looking down into his icy blue eyes, it almost slipped out of your mouth, but you caught yourself.

“Such a charmer, Mr. Turner.”

“Only for you, love.”

The third time you almost said it was when he took you to the Masters of the Air premiere in LA.

Thankfully enough, despite now having been together almost two years now, you’ve both successfully been able to have kept your relationship away from the public eye. Having seen the work he put into this project, you wanted to celebrate with him and suggested you walk with him on the carpet. 

He stepped out of the car first, buttoning his jacket before turning back and offering his hand to help you out of the car, a bright smile on his face. At the sight of just your hand, the flashes from the paparazzi cameras mere feet away flashed even quicker, and their roars got louder. “I got you, love,” he whispered, his hand never leaving you as you walked the carpet. 

Eventually, the both of you caught up to Austin and Barry, whose faces lit up at the sight of you. “Well, well, well,” Austin greeted, the southern drawl from his time playing Elvis peeking through. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he teased with a smile as if he hadn’t seen the pair of you a few days ago.

Barry ran over to Callum to give him a quick hug before turning to you with an even bigger smile. “S’lovely to see ya. Let’s take some pictures, aye? ”

You, Callum, Barry, and Austin stopped to pose together for a bit before they left the two of you to do some interviews further down the carpet. 

To your left!

This way, Callum!

To your right!

Give us a kiss!

He was quick to notice the fatigue growing on your face the longer you stayed in front of the sea of paparazzi. As you sat in your seats in the theater, he gave your hand a quick squeeze. When you glanced over to him, the look on his face made your heart swell. His blue eyes were soft and so filled with admiration. Just as you opened your mouth to say those three words, Barry barreled past you two into his seat next to Callum.

The fourth time you almost said it was on a random Tuesday in the weird period between spring and summer.

“It’s raining again,” you commented, both a little sad and happy with the weather. You and Callum had planned to go to the farmer’s market today but with the weather on top of the mood you had woken up in, it didn’t look like those plans were going through anymore.

Callum hummed as he turned on his side to look out the window. “Fucking June bloom,” you groaned, dropping your head back on your pillow. He turned back to face you, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in closer. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes as you relaxed in his hold. 

“That kinda morning?” he gently asked to which you nodded. “I don’t mind a night in, love,” he whispered, placing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. “As long as I’m with you.”

Your heart warmed at his words. “Thank you,” you mumbled against his chest. 

The fifth time you almost said it was on your birthday.

“What’s this?”

“Open it,” he encouraged, his eyes soft as he watched you. You narrowed your eyes before doing as he said. As you carefully unraveled the cute purple bow he wrapped around the tiny box, Callum watched with bated breath.

Lifting the lid revealed a small locket in the shape of a heart and when you opened it, one side with both of your initials carved into the metal and the other a picture of the two of you. You remembered when this was taken. It was from when you took him to Disneyland for the first time. It was a bit blurry but that didn’t matter.

“Callum…” you whispered, tears slowly filling your eyes at the sentiment. You quickly surged forward to pull him into a hug. 

“Do ya like it?”

“I- I love it. I love it,” you smile, placing a kiss to his lips which he gladly reciprocated. You could feel him smile as he pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours.

“Happy birthday, love.”

When you do finally say it, he had just finished doing an interview for Deadline magazine.

Callum did the interview on the phone and sat across the room, so you were within earshot of it all. “Your new film, Eternity, is said to explore who you’d want to spend an eternity with and where, so I have to ask: who and where might that be for you?” the interviewer asked. You tried your best not to eavesdrop, but the question intrigued you. What would his answer be?

The deepness of his voice brought you out of his thoughts as he answered. “If I had to spend an eternity with anyone, it would definitely be my partner. Where specifically is a little tough to say if I’m being completely honest. Anywhere they go, I’ll follow.”

Your heart melted. Did he really mean that? Soon enough the interview ended and you padded over to where he sat. “You’re such a sap, Cal.”

He smiled as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss. “Eavesdropping now, are we?”

“Just a tiny bit,” you grinned. The way he looked at you sent your heart racing—a look filled with so much love. “I think I love you,” you blurted out. His eyes widened for a second before softening again.

“I think love you too,” he whispered, nudging his nose against yours. 

A/N: btw the deadline magazine refers to an actual interview he did but skewed to fit the purposes of this fic <3

[hoonguin]

lovestruck domesticity ✿ ⁠ . ۫ · 박종성

 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎written for the heart’s mailroom event ! ༊

✷ mother’s day with your husband, park jongseong, turns into the softest, most love-filled day of your life !

pairings ⸝⸝ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎husband!jay ✿ f!rea ‎ ‎ ✉️‎ ‎ ‎ wc ⸝⸝ 5.2k

🗯️ 内容‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, married couple dynamics, parents!au, lots of domestic intimacy, skinship, kisses, yumi is jay and rea's family babysitter, haneul and dohyun are cuties !

EL’S ✷ BUBBLE : double update for today woooow (i need to get these over with i'm so sorry) anyways goodness gracious this was so cute i'm actually giggling i need jay in my life as my husband !!!! thank you for the request ♡ lovelots

The alarm doesn't wake you. Jay makes sure of it.

He's been awake since 5:43 AM — not because his body doesn't know how to sleep in on a Sunday, but because he set a backup alarm on his phone and slipped it under his pillow the night before, vibrating like a secret against the cotton. 

He kills both alarms with his thumb before the second one can even think about ringing, and then he lies there for exactly eleven seconds, looking at you.

You're on your side, one hand curled under your chin, the other flung over the duvet like you'd reached for him in your sleep and found empty air. Your hair is a mess. There's a crease on your cheek from the pillowcase. Your lips are parted the tiniest bit, and your breath is so quiet he has to lean in to hear it.

He leans in. Presses his mouth to your temple, just barely, just enough for you to feel warmth if you were awake to feel it, and then he rolls out of bed.

The floorboards in the hallway are the enemy. He knows which ones creak: the third one from your bedroom door, the one at the top of the stairs near the linen closet, two consecutive ones outside Haneul's room. He's mapped them out over years of late nights and early mornings, and he navigates them now in his socks, stepping over the worst ones like he's walking through a minefield of sound.

Haneul's door is cracked open. He eases it wider and peeks in — his daughter is starfished across her toddler bed, one foot hanging off the edge, her stuffed rabbit crushed against her chest. She's three and sleeps like she's fighting a war. Jay crouches next to the bed and brushes her bangs off her forehead.

"Haneul-ah," he whispers. "Baby. Wake up."

She doesn't.

He tries again, this time with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Haneul. Come on, my little bear."

She makes a sound like a grumpy cat and swats at his hand without opening her eyes. He almost laughs, he can see where you get your morning disposition from, but he swallows it and tries once more, softer this time, his thumb rubbing her tiny shoulder through her pajamas.

"Mama's special day," he murmurs. "We gotta make breakfast, remember? You said you wanted to crack the eggs."

That gets her. One eye cracks open. Then the other. Her face does something magnificent, confusion, then remembrance, then pure, incandescent excitement, and she's sitting up so fast her rabbit falls off the bed.

"Eggs," she whispers, but it comes out like a scream that's been stepped on.

"Shh, shh, shh—" Jay claps a hand over her mouth, grinning. "Quiet. Mama's sleeping."

She nods against his palm, eyes huge, and he lifts her out of bed. She weighs almost nothing. She always wraps her arms around his neck when he picks her up, always tucks her face into his shoulder, and he's never once in his life gotten tired of it.

Down the hall, the nursery. Dohyun is standing up in his crib, hanging onto the railing, already awake — he always is at this hour, like his internal clock knows dawn is his territory. When he sees Jay and Haneul, he opens his mouth and Jay says, very calmly, "No," which makes Dohyun's face crumple in offense before it can even become a wail.

"I know," Jay says, lifting him one-armed while Haneul clings to the other side. "I know, buddy. But Mama's sleeping. Quiet voice, okay?"

Dohyun is twenty months old and does not have a quiet voice. But he seems to understand the gravity of the situation, or at least he's distracted by Haneul's pajama sleeve, because he reaches over and grabs a fistful of it and doesn't scream.

The kitchen is dark when they get there. 

Jay settles Dohyun into his high chair, the one with the faded dinosaur sticker on the tray that Haneul put there six months ago and nobody could bring themselves to peel off, and crouches down to look Haneul in the eye.

"Alright. You remember the plan?"

She nods, bouncing on her heels.

"What do we do first?"

"Flowers!" she says, too loud, and claps her hand over her own mouth this time. He can see you in her, the way she catches herself, the way her eyes go wide like oops — it's so exactly you that it knocks the breath out of him for a second.

"Right. The flowers are already on the table. I got them yesterday, remember? After work." He tilts his head toward the dining table, where a bouquet of white peonies and soft blush ranunculus sits in your grandmother's old ceramic vase, wrapped in brown paper he hasn't untied yet because Haneul wanted to be the one to do it. "What's next?"

"Eggs."

"Eggs. And what else?"

"Pancakes with the—the—thingy, um—" She frowns, searching. "The faces."

"The faces, that's right." He grins. "Alright, let's do it."

He cracks two eggs into a bowl and lets Haneul whisk them with a fork. 

She's meticulous about it, her little tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth the same way yours does when you're reviewing case files, and she only splashes a tiny bit onto the counter. Jay wipes it up without comment.

The pancake batter is from the container in the fridge, he made it last night after you fell asleep, standing in the dark kitchen at midnight in his boxers, stirring and then washing every single dish and putting it back so you'd never know. 

He pours small circles onto the pan, and Haneul stands on her step stool next to him, watching with her chin on the counter, whispering "flip it, flip it, flip it, flip it, daddy," every time the bubbles appear.

Dohyun gets banana slices. He mashes them into the high chair tray with both fists, and Jay lets him. 

That's what the dog is for, Miso, their old golden retriever, who materializes under the high chair like she has a sixth sense for falling food and sits there thumping her tail against the floor.

When the pancakes are done, Jay lets Haneul arrange them on the plate. She puts two in the center, banana slices for eyes, a strawberry slice for the mouth, blueberries in a zigzag that she apparently says is hair. It looks like a happy monster. It looks like something you'd frame.

"Perfect," he says, and he means it.

He pours your coffee into the mug that says Attorney in gold lettering — the one your law partner got you as a joke when you made partner yourself, the one you use every single morning even though it's chipped on the rim and the gold is flaking off the R. 

He adds exactly one sugar and enough cream to turn it the color you like, the color you described once as "cloudy" and he described as "the exact shade of your skin in winter" and you threw a pillow at him for.

He plates everything. Pancakes. Eggs, scrambled the way you like, soft and wet. Fruit. Coffee. 

A single white peony, stem trimmed, laid across the napkin. And the envelope — the one Haneul drew on for forty minutes yesterday while you were on a call, the one she insisted on gluing glitter onto even though Jay said it would get everywhere, which it did; he's still finding glitter on his dress shirts.

Under the envelope, wrapped in tissue paper printed with tiny hearts: the earrings.

He found them three weeks ago. You'd been scrolling on your phone in bed, half-asleep, and you stopped on a photo and turned the screen to him. "Aren't these pretty?" you said, already half-distracted by something else. "The droopy kind. Teardrop shape. I've always wanted a pair in gold."

You forgot you showed him. He didn't.

They're fourteen-karat gold, delicate, teardrop-shaped drops on fine chains, the kind that caught light when you turned your head, the kind that moved when you laughed. 

He'd had them gift-wrapped at the store and then unwrapped them at home because the store's wrapping job wasn't good enough, and then wrapped them again himself with the heart tissue paper and a ribbon he had to watch a YouTube tutorial to tie properly.

He puts the wrapped box behind the plate, props the envelope against the coffee mug, and looks at the table. Haneul is vibrating with excitement. Dohyun has a few banana slices on his eyebrows.

"Ready?" Jay whispers.

Haneul nods so hard her whole body wiggles.

"Okay. Go get Mama."

You wake up to a small hand patting your cheek and a voice saying "Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama."

"M'awake," you mumble, and Haneul's face blooms into a smile so bright it could replace the sun. 

She grabs your hand and pulls, and you let yourself be dragged out of bed, through the hallway, past the family photos on the wall you keep meaning to reorder, down the stairs with Miso bounding ahead of you like this is the best day of her life too.

And there's Jay, standing in the kitchen in his socks and the grey henley you stole from him last week and he stole back, leaning against the counter with Dohyun on his hip and a smile on his face that is so soft, so unbearably fond, that you stop walking.

"Happy Mother's Day," he says.

The table. The flowers. The food. The envelope with glitter everywhere. The small wrapped box. The coffee in your chipped mug. The pancake monster with its blueberry hair. The morning light through the kitchen window catching the edges of everything like it knows this is supposed to be golden.

"Oh," you say, and your voice cracks on it.

Haneul tugs your hand. "I cracked the eggs, Mama. Both of them."

"You did?"

"Both. And I didn't splash. Only a tiny splash. Daddy wiped it."

"That's—wow—you did so good, baby." You crouch down, and she throws herself into your arms, and you hold her and look up at Jay, and his smile hasn't changed, not even a little — he's looking at you like you invented the concept of morning, like the sun came up because you walked into the room.

"Open it," Haneul says, squirming out of your arms and pointing at the envelope. "Open it open it open it."

The envelope with glitter everywhere. 

Inside, a card — construction paper, folded crookedly, with a drawing of three stick figures: one very tall, one medium, one very small, and a yellow blob that might be Miso. Above them, in Haneul's wobbly handwriting, the words MOMY I LUV YOO SO MATCH and below that, in Jay's handwriting, smaller: And I love you more than my vocabulary could ever be able to encapsulate. Every day. — J

You stare at it. Your eyes are burning.

"Open the box!" Haneul says.

You open the box. The tissue paper crinkles. The ribbon falls away. And there they are — gold teardrops on fine chains, delicate and warm and exactly what you pointed at on your phone screen three weeks ago and forgot about.

"Jay—"

"You showed me," he says, shrugging, like it's nothing, like remembering things you forget about yourself isn't the entire point. "I figured you'd forget you showed me. You always forget."

You're going to cry. You can feel it building, the heat behind your eyes, the shake in your chin. You haven't even had your coffee yet. This isn't fair.

He must see it, because he crosses the kitchen in two strides, shifts Dohyun to one arm, and cups your face with his free hand. His thumb brushes your cheek.

"No crying," he says, quiet, just for you. "It's too early for crying. We have a whole day."

"I'm not crying."

"You're about to cry."

"I'm not." You are. "These are—they're so, so perfect."

"I know." He kisses your forehead. "Come on. Eat your monster pancake before Dohyun decides to share his banana with it."

After breakfast, he doesn't let you touch the dishes.

"Jay, I can at least—"

"You can at least sit on the couch and drink your coffee."

"It's cold now."

"I'll make another one."

"No? I can still drink it, besides I can make my own—"

"Sit." He says it gently, with a kiss to the top of your head, and you sit, because sometimes the only thing to do with Jay in this mode is surrender.

He does the dishes. He does the dishes while Haneul sits on the counter "helping," which is basically just rinsing the same spoon over and over, and Dohyun plays with a plastic cup on the floor. He makes you another mug of coffee. He cuts up an apple for the kids. He wipes down the table. He puts the flowers in the vase properly, unties the brown paper, fluffs the peonies with his fingers like he watched a florist do once.

You sit on the couch with Miso's head on your lap and watch him move around your kitchen like he was built for it, like being a CEO is his job but this, this is what he actually is.

When the dishes are done and the kids are set up with crayons at the coffee table, he sits next to you. Close. His arm around your shoulders, your feet in his lap. He rubs your ankle with his thumb, absent and warm.

"What do you want to do today, sweetheart? Anything? Any plans?" he asks.

"I don't know actually. Anything, really. This is already—"

"No," he says. "Not 'anything.' What do you want? Specifically."

"I don't—Jay, you already got me the earrings, and breakfast, and the flowers—"

"That's the kids' side. That's for this morning. I'm asking about the rest of the day. Afternoon, evening, you name it."

You look at him. He looks back at you. His eyes are steady and certain, the way they are in boardrooms, contract negotiations, and every single time he's decided something is going to happen.

"Whatever I want?" 

"Whatever you want, sweetheart."

"Like—shopping?"

"Like anything. Shopping. Appliances store. The park. A different store. Four different stores. I don't care. Today you point at things and I get them, got it?"

"You're absolutely absurd, Jay."

"Hey! No, I'm consistent. There's a difference, you know?"

You laugh. You can't help it. He grins, and it's the same grin he gave you six years ago across a bar, when you were a second-year associate too tired to function and he was a stranger who bought your drink and then argued with you about tort law for an hour and a half.

"Okay," you say. "Shopping. But I'm not going crazy."

He doesn't say anything. He just smiles and kisses your temple.

He drops the kids at Yumi's at two. Haneul clings to his leg and he crouches down and promises three times that he'll pick her up before bedtime, that she can stay up late if she wants, that he and Mama are just going out for a little while. Dohyun doesn't care; Dohyun is already trying to eat Yumi's cat's tail. Miso stays home with the back door open to the yard.

In the car, you put your feet on the dashboard. He doesn't say anything about it. He never does. He reaches over and puts his hand on your knee instead, and drives.

The boutique you've been eyeing for months, the one with the silk blouses in the window you always slow down for, he pulls into the lot before you can say anything.

"I saw you looking," he says, turning off the engine. "Every time we drive past. You press your foot on the brake just a little, every single time."

"That's—what in the world, how do you even catch that? I don’t, end of the story."

"Yes, you totally do. You brake-check me for silk."

You get out of the car so he can't see you blush, but he catches up and laces his fingers through yours, and you go in together.

He sits in the armchair by the fitting room. Every time you come out in something new, he gives you a real answer, not it's fine or whatever you want but actual opinions, specific ones, the kind that mean he's paying attention. 

He tells you the sage green dress makes your shoulders look incredible. 

He tells you the black one is too stiff, you'll hate it by noon. 

He tells you the cream blouse with the tiny buttons is very you, and when you ask what that means, he says "it means you'd wear it to court and think about me when you button it."

You buy the cream blouse. You buy the sage dress. You buy a linen maxi-skirt you don't need and a pair of sunglasses he picks out, silver frames, slightly cat-eyed, because he says they match the new earrings, and you're already wearing them, the teardrops catching the store's warm light every time you turn.

He pays. You tell him you can pay. He pays anyway, card already out, already sliding it across the counter, already taking the bags before the cashier can offer.

"Jay—"

"It's Mother's Day."

"It's not—you don't have to—"

"What’s the harm in spoiling my queen? I know I don't have to. I want to." He says it lightly, but he's already steering you toward the door, bags in hand, one arm reaching for yours.

The second store is makeup. You don’t actually need anything, but the sight of glossy tubes lined up like candy makes you drift toward the lip section anyway.

He follows close behind, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie while you unscrew tester after tester, swiping colors onto the back of your hand until your skin looks like a paint palette.

“You’re running out of space,” he says.

“I’m conducting important research.”

“You’re smearing six shades of pink on yourself.”

“There are differences.”

He hums like he doesn’t believe you for a second, then suddenly reaches over and flips your wrist gently to inspect the chaos of colors. His brows pinch together in exaggerated concentration.

“This one’s too orange.”

“You don’t know what orange undertones are.”

“I know when it makes you look like you ate spicy noodles.”

You snort. “Oh my gosh.”

Before you can grab another tester, he holds his hand out between you both, palm up.

“Use mine.”

You blink. “What?”

“You’re out of skin.” He wiggles his fingers impatiently. “C’mon, makeup artist.”

“That’s literally not sanitary, Jay, I got this.”

“You just used three testers directly from the display.”

“…fair point.”

Trying not to smile too hard, you drag a mauve shade across the back of his hand. The color looks absurdly delicate against his knuckles, and he watches with the seriousness of someone signing legal documents.

“Hm,” he murmurs. “Not the one.”

“You can’t reject it after one swatch.”

“I absolutely can. Next!”

You laugh under your breath and swipe another color beside it, then another, until his hand is covered in glossy streaks of pinks, berries, roses. He studies every single one like he’s on a judging panel.

Finally, he taps one shade with his free hand — a soft warm rose.

“That one.”

“You picked the most normal color here.”

“Because it’ll look good on you.”

“You say that with a lot of confidence for a man who used to head out in baggy hoodies and skinny jeans twenty-four seven.”

“Hey! Sweetheart, they were the thing back then. Now? I’ve left them behind. Besides, I have no distractions. My judgment is pure.”

“You’re insane.”

He closes his fingers carefully so the swatches won’t smear and looks at you completely deadpan.

“Consistently insane. There’s a difference.”

You buy the lip color. And a new setting spray. And a tiny pot of highlighter he picks up and says "this one, you always run out of this one," and he's right, you do always run out of that one, and the fact that he knows that makes your chest hurt in the best way.

The third store is jewelry. Not because you need more, but because you both see a bracelet, a simple gold chain with a single tiny disc, and he picks it up and turns to you and says, "Haneul's birthday's in three months."

"She's three. She doesn't need jewelry yet."

"Not for her. For you, of course. So you have something of hers that you wear." He pauses. "I'll get her name engraved on the disc. Or—a star, or a heart, or something. Whatever you want, sweetheart."

You stare at him.

"What?" he says.

"You’re literally going to make me flood this whole jewelry store with my tears."

"You've cried in worse places, it’ll be fine."

"That was your fault too."

He buys the bracelet. 

He tells the sales associate he'll come back for the engraving. 

Outside, on the sidewalk, he hands you all the bags and cups your face with both hands and kisses you, slow, deliberate, right there in front of the store window and a woman walking her dog and two teenagers on skateboards, and when he pulls back, you're both flushed.

"Where next?" he asks.

You're smiling so hard your face hurts. "What about… oh my gosh, the park! The one with the big willow tree."

He doesn't ask why. He just takes your hand and walks you to the car.

The park with the willows is the one you found on your first year of dating, back when he was just a sharp-suited guy with a nice car and way too many opinions about your brief writing, and you were just a lawyer who couldn't believe he'd argued a motion and won and then texted you about it like a kid with five golden stars. You'd wandered here after dinner, both of you, still buzzy from wine, and sat under the biggest willow and talked until the streetlights came on.

Nothing's changed. The willow is bigger, maybe. The pond still has the same ducks. The bench by the water has been repainted but it's in the same spot, and Jay sits down and pulls you next to him, and the shopping bags go on the ground at your feet, and his arm goes around you, and it's so exactly like that first night that you feel time fold.

“You know,” you say, “you’re annoyingly good at this.”

“At what?”

“Making me feel loved without making it a big thing.”

He smiles a little. “That’s because it isn’t a big thing.” 

He's quiet for a second, looking at the water. Then he turns to you, and his face is different — not the easy grin, not the playful certainty. Something deeper. Something he doesn't bring out often, not because he's hiding it but because it's too real for small moments.

"I think about it sometimes," he says. "The way you move through the world."

You blink. "Huh?"

"The way you—" He stops, starts again. "You argue in court like you're building a house for someone. Brick by brick. You take cases that eat you alive and you carry them anyway because somebody has to, and you come home and you're so tired you can barely keep your eyes open, but you still read Haneul two stories instead of one, and you still rock Dohyun even though he's getting too heavy for it, and you still—you still find my shirts in the laundry and fold them the way I like, even though I've never once asked you to."

Your throat is closing. You can feel it.

"I think about what it would be like if you weren't here," he says, "and I can't. I can't think about it. It doesn't compute. You're the whole structure. You're the thing everything else hangs on. And I know—I know I'm not always good at saying it, absolutely terrible even, and I know I work too much, and I know sometimes I come home and my head is still in the office—but I notice. I notice everything you do. I notice every single thing, and I don't say it enough, and today—today is just me trying to make a dent in what I owe you."

He looks at you. His eyes are steady. His voice is steady. His hand on your shoulder is gentle enough to break something.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," he says. "You and Haneul and Dohyun. The three of you. And I'm going to spend my whole life trying to be worth it."

You're crying. Full tears, silent, rolling down your cheeks, and you can't stop them, and you don't even want to. He sees it and his expression shifts — the deep thing tucks itself away, and the other Jay comes back, the one who makes you laugh, the one who knows exactly how to catch you before you fall too far.

"Okay, that's enough of that," he says softly, and thumbs the tears off your cheeks. "I wasn't trying to make you a mess. I was trying to be romantic."

"You were romantic. You are romantic, Jay. I'm just—"

"You're crying on Mother's Day. That's a violation."

"A violation of what exa—"

"Of the official Mother's Day rules. Section four, paragraph two: no tears allowed on the designated day of spoiling." He wipes another tear with the pad of his thumb. "I'm going to have to issue a citation."

You laugh. It comes out wet and messy, and he smiles, and the smile is so warm you can feel it in your bones.

"There she is," he says. "Come on. The ducks are judging you."

You look over. A duck is, in fact, looking at you from the pond with a sort of flat judgment.

"That duck has nothing to say about my emotional state."

"That duck is a living being. Therefore, that duck is capable of forming its own opinions, and he has some about you."

You lean into him, and he pulls you closer, and you sit there under the willow until the light goes amber, until the shopping bags have tipped over on the grass, until the duck loses interest and swims away.

Dinner is at the Italian place situated at the heart of the city. The one with the bad lighting and the incredible pasta and the owner who knows both of you by name because you've been coming here since before Haneul, since before the house, since before anything except the two of you and the feeling that this might be real, might be.

Jay orders your wine without asking. The carbonara. A chocolate mousse for dessert, two spoons. He eats half his rigatoni and then swaps plates with you like he always does because the carbonara is better and he knows you'll want it but won't order it for yourself.

You tell him about a case you're working on. He listens the way he always does, fully, completely, like what you're saying is the most important thing in the room, and asks questions that are smart and specific, because he's been listening to you talk about law for six years and he's learned enough to be dangerous.

He tells you about a deal that fell through. You tell him it's fine, it happens. He says it's not fine, he wanted it, and you tell him the next one will be better, and he looks at you like you've just handed him the answer to something.

The chocolate mousse comes. You eat it with two spoons. He gets cream on his lip and you wipe it off with your thumb and he catches your hand and kisses your knuckles, and the couple at the next table smiles at you both like you're something worth looking at.

The drive home is quiet.

The windows are down, just a crack, and the night air is cool on your face. 

His jacket is over your shoulders, he put it there when you got in the car, didn't ask, just draped it and adjusted the collar and turned back to the road. 

In the cup holder between you: two ice cream cups from the place you remembered your childhood friend dreamily talk about, the one that stays open late, the one you discovered when you were pregnant with Haneul and craved mint chocolate chip at eleven p.m. and he drove forty minutes to get it.

He'd driven forty minutes tonight, too. Without you asking. Because he remembers.

You lean your head against the window. The gold earrings shift against your neck. On your wrist, the new bracelet catches the streetlights as they pass, gold chain, tiny disc, blank for now but not for long. On your finger, your wedding ring. On the seat beside you, bags from four different stores. In the cup holder, ice cream. In the driver's seat, your whole entire life, one hand on the wheel and the other reaching over to rest on your knee like it belongs there.

Because it does.

"Hey," he says, not looking away from the road.

"Hey."

"Good day?"

You look at him, the line of his jaw, the henley sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the way his hair is falling after a full day of you running your hands through it, and you think about all of it. 

The eggs Haneul cracked. The pancake monster with its blueberry hair. The flowers. The earrings. The cream blouse and the sage dress and the lip color he chose for you. The bracelet with the empty disc. The bench under the willow. His voice, low and sure, saying you're the best thing that ever happened to me. The tears and the duck and the way he made you laugh exactly when you needed to. The chocolate mousse with two spoons. The jacket on your shoulders. The ice cream in the cup holder.

"Good day," you say.

He squeezes your knee. You close your eyes.

The road unspools ahead of him. The city blurs past. The car hums. And you are so full — of him, of the day, of the kind of love that doesn't just hold you up but builds the ground under your feet — that you don't think you could fit another single thing inside you.

Then he says, quiet, almost to himself, like he's checking: "More than Father's Day?"

You open your eyes. He's smiling. That smile — the one that's only for you, the one that makes you feel like you invented the sun.

"So much more than Father's Day," you say.

"Good." He looks at you, quick, then back at the road. "Because I've already got next year planned."

"You're impossible to deal with."

"A better way to word it is that I’m consistent, sweetheart, there's a—"

"Difference. I know."

He laughs. You laugh. 

Miso's going to lose her mind when you walk through the door, and Haneul is going to want to show you the crayon drawing she made at Yumi's, and Dohyun is going to reach for you the second he sees you, and tomorrow is Monday and there are briefs to file and deals to close and the whole ordinary machinery of your life waiting to start up again.

But right now, you are the most spoiled woman on the planet, and you're not even a little bit sorry about it.

⭐️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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💿 ࿐ . . every summertime by niki

✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !

[sangbubble]

⊹ ― Let me pamper you ⁺ P.JS ˚⠀｡

Synopsis: Jay being the perfect husband, at all times.

Pairings: Husband!Jay x Wife!reader - switch!jay x switch!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, little bit fluff, established relationship, p in v, unprotected sex (not for you idiot), masturbation (m), oral (m recieiving), cockwarming, grinding, cock riding, cowgirl position, pets names, idk what more.

wc: 2,2K

note: English isn't my first language, so if you find any mistakes I apologize, hehe, and I also welcome any corrections or tips from you.If by some chance you're here and you speak Spanish, let me tell you that I do too, hehe, and that the Spanish version is available here.

Jay was the kind of husband who loved to adore and pamper his beautiful wife. He considered her smile and sparkling eyes the most precious treasure he had ever been blessed to find. Little details transformed their dynamic into something unique and heartwarming, like when Jay waited for her every single day without fail outside her office so they could walk home together, not minding the wait for hours if necessary. Or when she helped him style his hair in the mornings before work, just because he loved having her do his hair. Or when they argued over who would make lunch and ended up making a trade: "You can make mine, but only if you let me cook for you too." Even the fact that every Saturday was a different date, and Jay always gave her three hours' notice because he knew his wife took forever to choose a dress. Dresses that, by the way, he always bought for her.

"Look, love, you don't have this color, do you?" Jay pointed to the mannequin behind the counter of a store in the mall. "It's pretty, yes… But I already have so many dresses, Jay… I haven't been able to wear them all yet" she murmured with a soft laugh. Jay, taking her hand, pulled her into the store. "Then I'll have to take you out to dinner more often, darling."

"Darling, I've told you I can buy my own things too. You don't always have to buy me everything, or carry my bags." His wife tried to take one of her bags from his hands, where she kept a new pair of heels for the office. Jay hid it behind his back, lowering his head to his wife's level and kissing her. "I exist to please you in everything, love."

"Fine, you win… You always win. You have to let me please you too." Jay stopped abruptly for a moment halfway home, and she turned to look at him. "Did something happen?" Jay shook his head. "No, nothing, my love. Shall we go home? I'm starving, and we've had a bottle of wine waiting in the kitchen for days."

On the way home, she kept talking about the little tidbits of gossip circulating among her colleagues. Jay, with one hand caressing her thigh through her pants, drove with the other, keeping his eyes on the road while paying close attention to what his wife was saying.

"Actually, yesterday Yunah asked me for advice about marriage and how to be a good wife. Kind of funny, really" she commented with a slight laugh.

"Oh yeah? And why is that?" Jay replied.

"I told her that you're actually the one who takes really good care of me, that you're always the one in charge. And that, while we both divide the expenses and household chores, at some point you always end up contributing more."

"Because it's my duty. I would fail as a husband if my wife had to do everything alone. I couldn't allow that" Jay answered, looking at her tenderly for a moment as the traffic light turned red.

"Sunghoon keeps teasing me, saying you have me under your thumb. I think he's just jealous that my wife loves and cares for me as much as I do for her" Jay countered with a smirk.

"Jongseong, your office seems to be more mine than yours, I'm everywhere!" she laughed, remembering the huge number of photos of them together—and of her alone—that decorated his desk and the surrounding area.

"Don't forget the necklace" Jay pointed to the necklace with his wife's initial, "and our rings."

"Or the times I've gone to bring you lunch because you forgot to put it in your bag."

"Maybe I pretend to forget sometimes just to see your angelic face around, because I miss you every second I breathe."

"Oh my God. I love you with all my heart, you're a great husband. I'll never regret marrying you, Jong."

"I love you too, with all my body and soul. I'd sell it to the devil just to see you happy." Jay took her hand, kissing her knuckles.

…

Jay was cooking that night—like almost every night. He always insisted, and she couldn't refuse when her husband looked at her with wide, bright eyes, almost sparkling with glitter and hearts. With a slight pout on his lips, he’d plead. "Please, love, let me pamper you." He won, again.

While Jay chopped the vegetables, she would occasionally approach him with a glass of wine, offering him a sip. Jay would drink from the glass and, seconds after swallowing, kiss her, their flavors mingling.

After dinner, Jay took an ice cream cake from the refrigerator. His wife's favorite. "Oh! How did you get it? I thought they were sold out" she exclaimed enthusiastically, getting up to get the dessert utensils.

"I simply spoke to the owner of the bakery and mentioned that I have a wife who's a huge fan of this cake, and that she'd been sad for weeks because she couldn't get it."

“I wasn’t sad, Jay” she replied, reaching for the silverware from the cupboard before he could.

“Well, a few little white lies. And a few extra bills, so they’d make this cake just for you” Jay responded, pulling her close by the waist to kiss her.

“What a good husband you are, baby.” She could feel him tense slightly in her grip and noticed his eyes darkening with intensity; he wanted something, and she was trying to figure out what. She gripped the back of Jay’s neck, lifting her heels off the floor to reach his face on tiptoe and kiss him more deeply, with greater desire. Smiling mid-kiss as her husband leaned back in the dining room chair, she climbed onto his lap, continuing to kiss him and occasionally nibbling his lower lip until the need for air forced them to separate.

Jay, his lips swollen and slightly stained with the remnants of his wife's lipstick, his eyes now wide with dilated pupils, gently massaged her thigh, his fingers tracing the contours of her skin.

"What if we have a different kind of dessert?" she murmured.

He smiled mischievously, lifting her up to help them both stand as they headed towards the bedroom.

Once they were both lying on the bed, her legs still entwined around her husband's hips, she continued kissing him, holding his head by the nape of his neck and caressing his cheek. She began a brief movement of her hips, feeling his erection through his jeans. She smiled, pulling back slightly.

"Let me please you, love. Please, stop being the bossy husband for a moment..." She kissed his jaw and cheek, feeling his warm hands caress her lower back, guiding her closer against him. She took hold of the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, revealing his bare torso. Smiling, she bit her lower lip and traced his defined abs with the tips of her long nails before kissing his chest.

She lowered her hands to his pants, unbuttoned them, and lowered the zipper, observing the large bulge still hidden beneath his underwear. She slipped a hand inside, gripping him completely and applying a bit of pressure. Jay let out a ragged gasp.

Then she spoke against his lips. "Is this what you want after pleasing me all day, huh? You want me to thank you by giving you what you want?"

Jay nodded, suppressing a groan as his wife stroked him again, massaging him up and down.

"I didn't hear you, love" she said, looking at him with feigned innocence.

Jay gripped her waist tightly and kissed her roughly. "Just do whatever you want to me, princess. I belong to you completely" Jay replied, kissing her fiercely, desperate for her warmth.

"I have the best husband in the world. Don't I? You're the best in the universe, and you deserve an award for it."

She continued stroking him, maintaining eye contact so intense it could burn right through them. Jay gasped beneath her touch, his cheekbones slightly flushed, biting his lower lip hard each time his wife applied pressure to the sensitive tip of his cock.

She released her grip and moved down, exchanging her fingers for the warmth of her mouth. She licked from base to tip, teasing him with small circles of her tongue, which sent Jay into a spasm followed by a loud groan. Smiling contentedly, she took him as far down her throat as it would go. Jay threw his head back, feeling the heat spread across his face. Suppressing the urge to push his wife's head down further, he decided to let her control the pace. She maintained a moderate speed, pausing precisely at the tip for extended periods. She knew perfectly well that it completely melted her husband when she sucked him right there.

"Ooh… Mgh… Honey… God" he moaned, his lips unconsciously pouting, trying to suppress the growing urge to come right then. He needed to last a little longer. "Princess, if you keep this up I'm going to… Fuck, shit…"

She pulled his member from her mouth, understanding that he was very close, and decided she would let him ejaculate inside her. "Okay, pants off, Jongseong" she demanded as she removed her own clothes, remaining in her matching lingerie set.

Fuck, Jay swore he would die right there. His wife was more than ready for that night. He finished undressing just as she pushed him down onto the mattress, leaving him completely under her control. She climbed onto his lap, observing him from above. He looks so cute, she thought, while Jay felt like he was falling in love all over again, as if a new part of his brain had just been electrified by the sexiest and most beautiful woman in the universe.

She pulled her panties aside, guiding his dick to her entrance with one hand, and slowly lowered herself until he was completely inside her. They both gasped. "You love it when I'm on top, don't you, baby?"

"Oh yes… of course I do, love… show me what a good wife you are by riding me. Make me yours."

She began with a gentle, circular movement of her hips, first to one side, then to the other. She rocked forward and backward, Jay gently holding her waist to ground her against his own overwhelming urges. Then she pushed herself up onto her knees on the sheets, riding her husband's cock. At first, she was slow, but she gradually increased the speed and force with which she bounced on his length, driven by the need to feel him deep inside, striking and pounding that exact spot, making them both see stars.

"Aah… Y-yes, like that, love, take it like that, just… like that" Jay moaned. There was nothing more exciting than hearing her husband moan and completely losing herself in the moment. She bounced faster, feeling her own thighs tremble as her orgasm neared.

Her husband's stomach spasmed, and then he pulled her from behind, guiding her body against his, chest to chest. Jay took control, lifting his hips to thrust deeper inside his wife, kissing her collarbones as she let out breathless moans. He took the opportunity to unhook the bra she was still wearing, tossing it to the floor.

She sat up again, this time supporting herself with her feet flat on the bed and her knees up, both of them sharing control of the rhythm. Jay firmly caressed one of her breasts while his other hand maintained its grip on her waist.

The orgasm didn't hit him until his wife suddenly slapped him. He was stunned for a second, slowing down without stopping; he looked at her with wide eyes, but it didn't take half a second for that haze of pleasure to take over again. Then his climax hit. That knot in his stomach dissolving directly into his cock, spilling abruptly inside her as he yelled her name.

"Shit, what was that?" he murmured, trying to form coherent words.

She smiled. "I don't know, it just slipped out. You look so hot with your pink cheeks and your furrowed brow beneath me."

Jay took her chin in his hand, pulling her down to kiss her sweetly. "It turned me on so fucking much. God, you made me come with just one slap. I need you to do it again" he murmured against her skin as he trailed wet kisses down to his wife's eager breasts. "You know exactly which buttons to push with me, my lady. Damn, what did you do to me? I'm addicted to you"

She sighed, feeling a fresh wave of wetness as her husband looked up at her from between her breasts. His eyes were glassy, filled with uncontrollable desire, his cheeks flushed and his forehead sweaty. So sweet, she thought.

"And you know exactly how to turn me on" she replied with a breathless laugh.

“Now it’s my turn to show you why I’m the one in charge in this relationship” Jay smiled, cupping his wife’s cheeks and kissing her face all over, guiding her body onto the mattress until she was beneath him. Locked in a tight embrace, Jay thrust his cock back inside her. They both moaned into each other's mouths, losing themselves in the kiss.

“Oh God! Yes! That’s my husband... so perfect”

dividers by @cursed-carmine --- requests open

permanent tag list: @vaspauryy @ori2ari

if u wanna be part of my permanent tag list, coment here, ily ❤️

[chaehrtsj]

이희승 .ᐟ → ♡ messy like this → ♡ gameboy → ♡ piggy bank → ♡ this is falling in love

박종성 .ᐟ → ♡ private but not secret → ♡ better boyfriend → ♡ terms and conditions → ♡ eyes on me → ♡ helium → ♡ ace of betrayal → ♡ red line → ♡ soft hours → ♡ secret peeks → ♡ stolen hours → ♡ our little secret → ♡ love songs → ♡ just drive (series!) → ♡ shield of aegis (series!)

박성훈 .ᐟ

심재윤 .ᐟ

김순우 .ᐟ

양정원 .ᐟ → ♡ orion's embrace

니키 .ᐟ

OT7 .ᐟ → ♡ paper hearts

© chaehrtsj 2026. no copyright/trans allowed.

[chaehrtsj]

JUST ⋆. 𐙚 ̊ DRIVE━ pjs ୭˚. ᵎᵎ

pt 1 / pt 2 ₍^. .^₎⟆ short fic''◞ㅤ f1racer!jay x techdirector.ᐟreader ㅤꕀ warning / lowercase intended , not proofread , teasing , nicknames , teasing and more teasing , flashbacks , e2l vibes , major f1: the movie references , cliffhanger , formula one au , non-idol enha etcㅤ/ wc. 1.6k╰ ⬩ © lovepjy 𓂃 ༉‧₊˚. song of choice◞ drive - ed sheeran / ╰ ⬩ part two soon..?

headquarters was quiet after hours, just the faint whirring of the PC as you sat in front of the bright screen, the technical software spilling out rows of data as you played with the different designs for a potential new car.

two weeks to iron out every kink, prevent any problems and maybe, hopefully pull aston martin back to the top 3 where it used to settle at back when you were just watching.

your black-rimmed glasses slid lower down the bridge of your nose, a familiar weight as your fingers flew across the keyboard, hair twisted into a messy bun, company windbreaker zipped to your chin. you moved like a metronome at the console, a hand on the mouse, the other turning numbers into possibilties on the screen, chassis variations spun, brake maps flickered, wing profiles folding and unfolding like origami.

as you blink at the telemetry of the current model, tasting like memory. flashes of lectures at dawn during quarantine because of time differences, greasy ramen and midnight cram sessions, the slow and stubborn climb to become the first female technical director on an F1 team. 3 years since graduation and you had yet to prove yourself to the people around you. proof was like trophies and formula one points and the kind of silence in the pit lane because everyone listened.

shaking yourself out of it, you refocused on the rotating model on the massive screen till you heard the door creaked. without looking back you replied.

"if you're here to tell me to go home jake, you should do it yourself."

a laugh, low and warm carried across the empty tech office. "well i'm definitely not jake."

he stood, leaning against the door frame, dressed in team gear, hoodie zipped, cap pulled low over damp hair, hands shoved into his pockets like he owned the place.

"what you working on?" he shrugged, gesturing to the screen as he shuffled forward.

"i'm working on a new front wing concept," you paused turning to your screen and then back to him, "trying to pick us up a tenth or so."

"cool, cool. and you can replicate turns?" he tilted his head, eyes skimming the rotating model on your massive screen. "lateral airflow?"

your eyebrows furrowed as you leaned back and folded your arms, "no, just a straight line drag. but we calculate it from there."

he leans against the desk and hums. "okay what about turbulent air from the car we're following?" he had a faint smirk on his face.

pausing, you blink at him confused. "no, not exactly-"

"track conditions, surface quality, weather, ambient temps?" he rattles off like he was reading off a checklist from the back of his mind.

you sat up straighter and laughed. "did you want to ask me something?"

he let out a huge sigh and clapped his hands together. "yn you read my mind."

"so how does one get to be the first female technical director of an F1 team?"

"i'm sure it takes alot of effort and-"

you looked at him blankly, undeterred. "that's your urgent question?"

he freezes a little before humming along. "uhh, yeah?"

you turned back to your screen ready to ignore him.

"okay fine, wait wait." he stands back up and moves closer.

you turned back to him, waiting expectantly.

"redbull, ferrari, mercedes and now mclaren, all have us beat on, you know straight line speed." he said flatly.

"to beat them we need to focus on the turns." he continues, when you look at him blankly he adds. "i need a way to chase through the dirty air."

you let his words sink in. dirty air meant more than just turbulence maps. it meant the getting within the breath of another car, and staying there long enough to make them flinch, swerve. meaning accidents.

you ran your tongue over your teeth, arms folding again. "you want me to redesign so you can get closer to the other cars?"

"well yeah." he didn't flinch, flashing you a grin. "we need to build our car for combat."

your mouth was dry in the silence. "and how am i supposed to make that safe?"

"who said anything about safe?" he tilted his head, as if the word had offended him.

you blinked. the conversation took a 180 degree turn within a second. "that's your question?"

he leaned back on your desk, voice low enough that the monitor hummed louder than his words. "i don't want safe. i want danger. i want a car that fights with me through corners so i can fight back harder. if i can control her, no one else can."

you watched him, pulling on your glasses, cataloguing him. the set of his jaw, the way his gaze dared you to call him reckless. you were the person who kept drivers from flirting with the barricade. you were the one who drew red lines on spreadsheets, adding safety margins where the adrenaline crowd wanted none. all to keep the drivers safe, because that's what their families would've wanted. right?

"fine," you said finally, sitting up. "you want danger? earn it."

"what's the deal?" he asked, eyes instantly glinting.

"monaco," you replied. the name felt like a bell. narrow streets, unforgiving walls, zero margin. "get top 5. bring home p5 or better for monaco and i'll give you the car you're asking for. more sharper turn-in, twitchier balance and a deeper rear bite. the whole she-bang."

he slowly grinned. "top five? consider it done."

( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ♡ [open] TAGLIST : @lvlyhiyyih will have a second part hehe, i JUST watched the f1 movie bc of mr smooth operator!! will be doing this in 3 parts most likely hehe ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[jongst4r]

(not) spoiled (p. jay)

jay loves to spoil you, even if you don't want him to

pairing: jay x reader || wc: 1.2k || cw: fluff!! established relationship, kissing, use of petnames, comfort(?), very lightly suggestive || warnings: none! || a/n: all thanks to this request!! oh jay </3

you and jay have been together for almost two years now, and one thing has never changed: your inability to accept gifts without feeling massive guilt.

it’s a sunny saturday afternoon when the issue comes up again.

you’re walking through the luxury department store because jay needed new shoes for an upcoming schedule. at least, that’s what you thought. somehow you’ve ended up in the jewelry section, and jay is staring at a delicate gold necklace with a small diamond pendant that costs more than your monthly rent.

“don’t even think about it,” you say immediately, grabbing his arm.

jay turns to you with that signature raised eyebrow. “why not? it would look perfect on you.”

“because it’s too expensive,” you whisper, glancing around like someone might overhear. “jay, that’s literally insane money for a necklace. i don’t need it.”

he sighs, the same sigh he always gives when you start this. “baby.”

“no. girl, no,” you insist, tugging his sleeve. “i already feel bad when you buy me coffee. this is way too much.”

jay looks at the necklace again, then back at you. without another word, he flags down the sales associate and says calmly, “we’ll take this one. and can you wrap it nicely?”

your eyes widen. “park jongseong.”

he just smirks and pulls out his card like it’s nothing. when the associate walks away, he wraps both arms around your waist and pulls you against his chest.

“you’re cute when you’re mad at me for spoiling you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“i’m serious,” you mumble into his shirt, cheeks burning. “i don’t want you wasting money on me.”

jay pulls back slightly so he can look at you. his expression softens, but there’s still that stubborn glint in his eyes. “it’s not wasting money if it’s for you.”

later that evening, you’re both on the couch watching a movie when a notification pops up on your phone. it’s a delivery update.

“jay… why is there a package coming tomorrow from that fancy skincare brand i mentioned once?”

he doesn’t even look guilty. “because you said your skin’s been dry lately.”

you groan and hide your face in a pillow. “i was just complaining! i was going to buy the small version myself!”

“the set is better,” he says simply, pulling the pillow away so he can see your face. “and before you say anything, no, it’s not a waste. you take care of me all the time. let me take care of you too.”

you peek up at him, lips pouty. “you already do enough.”

jay leans in and kisses the pout away. “never enough.”

the biggest fight happens two weeks later.

it’s your birthday, and jay has planned an entire weekend getaway. you only found out because he accidentally left the confirmation email open on his laptop. when you confront him, you’re standing in the kitchen with your arms crossed, trying not to cry from a mix of love and guilt.

“jay, a private villa? for two nights? that’s crazy expensive. we could’ve just gone to a nice dinner or something—”

“we can still do dinner,” he says, leaning against the counter, completely unfazed. “but i want to take you away. just us. no schedules, no members, no stress.”

you feel your chest tighten. “i don’t want you spending all that money because of me. it makes me feel bad, like i’m taking advantage—”

jay walks over and cups your face gently, thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“hey. look at me.”

you meet his eyes, blinking back tears.

“you are not taking advantage of me,” he says firmly. “you never ask for anything. ever. you always tell me not to buy you things. you get embarrassed when i pay for dinner. you even tried to split the bill on our first date, remember?”

you nod, embarrassed.

“so let me do this,” he continues, voice softer. “i work hard so i can spend it on the person i love. it doesn’t feel good when you act like my money is a burden. i want to spoil you. i like spoiling you. it makes me happy.”

you bite your lip. “but… it’s too much.”

jay smiles, that gentle, patient smile that always melts you. “it’s not too much. you deserve the world, baby. and i’m lucky enough to be able to give you pieces of it.”

he pulls you into his arms and holds you tight, rubbing your back slowly.

“please let me take you on this trip,” he whispers into your hair. “let me show you off. let me wake up next to you with ocean views and order you breakfast in bed. let me do this without you feeling guilty.”

you stay quiet for a long moment, face buried in his chest. then you mumble, “you’re really annoying when you’re right.”

jay laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest. “i know. but you love me anyway.”

“unfortunately,” you tease, squeezing him tighter.

the weekend at the villa is perfect.

jay keeps catching you staring at the beautiful scenery, the huge bathtub, the massive bed, and every single time he says, “stop calculating how much it costs in your head.”

you try to argue when he orders the most expensive bottle of wine for dinner, but he just raises his hand in that sassy way (the same one he uses with the members) and says, “babygirl stop.”

you end up laughing so hard you almost choke on your pasta.

on the last night, you’re both sitting on the private terrace under string lights. jay pulls you onto his lap and wraps his arms around your waist, one hand resting protectively over your stomach even though there’s nothing there yet.

“thank you,” you whisper, playing with the necklace he bought you that’s now resting beautifully against your collarbones. “for everything. i’m… still learning how to accept it. but i’m trying.”

jay kisses your shoulder softly. “that’s all i ask. just let me love you the way i want to. money is just money. you’re priceless.”

you turn in his lap to face him, cupping his face with both hands. “i love you so much it scares me sometimes.”

“good,” he smirks, but his eyes are warm. “because i’m never going to stop spoiling you. get used to it.”

you groan playfully but lean in to kiss him anyway — slow, sweet, full of gratitude and love. jay kisses you back like you’re the only thing that matters in the entire world.

when you pull away, he rests his forehead against yours.

“happy birthday, my love.”

“best birthday ever,” you admit softly. “even if you spent way too much.”

jay chuckles and pinches your side. “there you go again.”

you laugh and hide your face in his neck. “sorry. habit.”

“it’s okay,” he murmurs, holding you closer. “we’ve got time. i’ll keep reminding you until you believe you deserve every single thing i give you.”

and as the waves crash softly in the distance, you think maybe — just maybe — you can start believing him.

because with jay, love isn’t just words.

it’s him ignoring your protests.

it’s him rolling his eyes with a fond smile when you say “don’t waste money on me.”

it’s him whispering “too bad, i’m spoiling you anyway” right before he kisses you stupid.

and honestly?

you’re the luckiest girl in the world.

© jongst4r, 2026

taglist: @solonenova, @neabrownn, @drowsypanther, @redessertired, @pinkdazed, @enhypenlvrsstuff, @strwberrylhs, @insignificantlillady, @vanillakirstein, @jaeynslutt, @d2iose, @gchirpy, @k13endall, @phjayyy, @unnatrual, @kookiesnkim, @kpopishgirlie, @kaejua, @ineedjaeyun, @moonchild-31, @cortised, @borderdaytwo, @wonrlls, @heartsski, @dollhoonki, @kristynaaah, @d1m-cataclysm, @bitemhoon, @wh0re4deonnu, @h4esexng, @thisisalwaysthat, @heesno1gooner

[nisc0]

yk what'd be so hot

Jake usually moves through the house like a ghost, his "virgin nerd" persona defined by hunched shoulders and a nervous stutter that keeps the boundary between step-siblings firmly in place. However, behind closed doors, that awkwardness sharpens into a terrifyingly precise fixation, proving that his role as f-reader quiet step-brother was merely a mask for a deeply calculated hunger. When the tension finally snaps, the transformation is jarring; his stutter vanishes, replaced by a low, steady command and a raw, dominant intensity born from years of observing f-reader from the periphery of the family dynamic. This isn't about the hesitation of a novice, but a heavy-handed control where his intelligence is used to dismantle f-reader composure, turning years of repressed proximity into a rough, unapologetic claim.

────#GOOD BOY────

⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!jake 𝓍 f!reader 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : college AU, smut (MDNI), porn with plot 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : they are both 20, fake nerd!jake, voyeurism, stalking, obsessive behaviour, jealousy, manhandling, masturbating, edging, filthy talk, oral sex (m. receiving), grinding, degradation, use of nicknames : baby, angel, good girl, face fucking 𝐰𝐜 : 8.5k

part 2

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ──── (specific order)

♫ An Eater - Matt Martians ♫ Freak - Doja Cat ♫ Need To Know - Doja Cat ♫ Love Potion - BJ Lips ft. princess paparazzi ♫ Killshot (Slowed + Reverb) - Magdalena Bay ♫ What You Need - The Weeknd ♫ Don't Run - PARTYNEXTDOOR ♫ Haunted - Beyoncé ♫ All Mine - PLAZA

📎- this was so fun to work on, i think it's one of my fav request so far :)) it has been sitting in my drafts for so long omg. I will probably make a PART 2 of you guys want it and since I paused my Jay ff (I’m procrastinating and might drop it guys). Enjoyyy :)

You wake up when the floorboards creak in the hallway. You wait in bed for five minutes, listening to the silence of the house, before you pull on a grey sweatshirt and walk downstairs.

In the kitchen, Jake is already sitting at the island, hunched over his laptop. His oversized black hoodie bunches around his neck, and his shoulders are rounded forward. When you step onto the tile, he flinches and quickly pushes his glasses up his nose.

"Oh. Hi," he says. His voice is quiet as he stumbles over the greeting. "Good morning."

"Morning," you say, walking to the counter. "Is there coffee?"

"Yeah. I made a pot." He points to the machine before he tucks his hands back into his sleeves. "It's still hot."

You pour yourself a mug. The ceramic is warm against your palms. You lean against the counter and look at him. "You have that midterm today?"

"Yeah, quantum maths. It's a pain in the ass." He types three keys and stops. "I've been awake since 5. My head hurts from looking at the formulas."

"Are you ready for it?"

"I think so. If I don't mess up the proofs." He looks up at you. His eyes blink rapidly behind his thick lenses and a faint red color spreads across his cheeks. "What about you? You have that group project presentation today, right? With the guy from your marketing class."

"Yeah, Damian. He hasn't sent me his half of the slides yet."

Jake's hands freeze on the keyboard. "He's a fucking idiot."

The sudden change in his tone makes you pause. His voice is flat and direct, without his usual wobble. When you look at him, he quickly slumps further into his hoodie, his eyes darting back to the screen.

"I mean," he mumbles, his voice rising back to its nervous pitch. "He just...he seems lazy. I see him sitting by the library sometimes, just talking on his phone."

"He is lazy," you say, taking a sip of the coffee. "I'll probably have to finish the presentation myself before noon."

Jake watches you drink. His head is turned toward you, his eyes fixed on your mouth, then your throat as you swallow. His face is completely still, devoid of the nervous twitching he usually does.

"You shouldn't have to do his work," Jake says.

You set your mug down on the granite. The sound makes him blink, and he immediately looks down at his keyboard again, his shoulders tensing.

"It's fine," you say. "I just want to get it over with."

"I could...I could look at your slides," he says, stammering slightly on the first word. "If you want. I can check the layout or make sure the alignment is correct."

"It's marketing, Jake. We just used a template."

"Right. Yeah. Of course." He nods quickly, his head bobbing four or five times. "Just...if you needed help."

He presses a key to lock his laptop before sliding it into his backpack. When he stands up, his actual height is obvious, he is clearly taller than you, but he immediately curves his spine, lowering his head as he zips the bag.

"I'm going to go to campus early," he says, his eyes focused on the floor near your feet. "I need to study more."

"Okay. Good luck on the test."

"Thanks." He walks past you, leaving a wide space between your bodies as he heads for the front door. "See you later."

The front door clicks shut and the kitchen is quiet again.

──────

You pull into the gravel driveway at the exact same time Jake’s car stops in the space next to yours. You both get out of your cars. Jake immediately ducks his head, grabbing his heavy backpack from the passenger seat and hoisting it over one slouched shoulder.

"Hey," he says, his voice quiet. He stands by his door, waiting for you to walk first.

"Hey," you say, walking toward the stone steps of the mansion. "How was the math midterm?"

"It was...hard. I think I got a B. Maybe a B-minus." He follows a few paces behind you, his sneakers squeaking on the stone.

Inside, the house is silent. Your mother is in Chicago for a week-long business conference, leaving just you, Jake, and his father.

Jake’s dad is already sitting at the long mahogany dining table when you walk into the dining room. A roasted chicken and some sides are laid out on silver platters.

"There they are," he says, looking up from his phone. "Sit down. How was it today?"

You both sit. Jake takes the chair directly across from you. He immediately pulls his plate close, keeping his eyes on his food as he serves himself.

"It was fine," you say. "Just a bit busy."

"That’s good. So, we need to talk about summer," his dad says while carving the chicken. "I’m booking a villa in Ibiza for July. You two are coming."

You set your fork down. "Oh, I don't think I can go. I wanted to take summer classes. I need to catch up on my biology credits."

Jake’s dad sighs, waving his hand. "You work too hard. Take a break."

You look at Jake. He is chewing slowly. He swallows and looks up, his glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. He clears his throat twice.

"You, um...you can take the classes online," Jake says. His voice is small and hesitant. "The villa has high-speed internet. I looked at your syllabus on the counter yesterday. It's mostly reading and quizzes. I can...I can help you study if you get stuck. It wouldn't be a big deal."

He looks at you through his eyelashes, his expression nervous as if he is waiting for you to shut him down.

"See?" His dad says. "Jake will help you. It's settled."

Under the table, your knee accidentally bumps into Jake's. He doesn't pull his leg away immediately. He holds the contact for three seconds, his leg completely still against yours before he slowly flinches back and looks down at his plate.

"Okay," you say, looking at him. "I'll go."

After dinner, his dad goes to his study to make business calls. You and Jake sit in the main living room. A reality TV show plays on the flat-screen, yet neither of you is really watching it. Jake sits on the far end of the leather sofa, his knees pulled together and his laptop open on his thighs.

The air conditioning is on but the room feels stuffy. You pull at the collar of your t-shirt.

"It's fucking hot in here," you say.

"The compressor downstairs is old," Jake says, his fingers hovering over his keyboard. "Dad refuses to replace it."

"Let's go swim," you say while standing up. "The pool is clean. It'll feel better than sitting in here."

Jake looks up from his screen. He blinks. "Now?"

"Yeah, now. Come on, don't be boring."

He hesitates, his eyes darting to the door and back to his laptop. "Okay. I'll go change."

Ten minutes later, you meet by the outdoor pool. The blue lights under the water are on, casting bright reflections across the concrete patio. You are wearing a simple black bikini. Jake comes out in dark swim trunks and a white t-shirt.

"You're wearing a shirt?" you ask, dipping your legs into the water.

Jake sits on the edge, a foot away from you, letting his feet dangle in the pool. He looks at the water, keeping his eyes away from your body. "I don't want to get sunburned."

"It's 9 o'clock at night, Jake. There is no sun."

"It's a habit," he mumbles, his shoulders curving inward.

You splash a bit of water at his feet.

"Seriously, though," you say, leaning back on your hands. "Do you ever do anything fun? Do you even like girls?"

Jake freezes. His feet stop moving in the water. "What?"

"I've lived here for two years, and you've never brought a girl home. Not even a friend who is a girl."

He keeps his eyes on the water. His voice is very quiet. "I don't have time for that. I'm focusing on my degree."

"Right. Sure."

There’s a silence settling in between you two. So you decide to eventually break it.

"I haven’t heard anything from Jay. What about him?" you ask, watching his profile. "He came over last week to drop off your textbooks. You should invite him over more often."

The nervous and slouched posture Jake has maintained all night vanishes in an instant. His spine straightens. He turns his head to look at you, and the movement is fast, completely lacking his usual hesitation. His jaw is clenched so hard a muscle twitches in his cheek.

"Jay is a fucking jerk," Jake says.

His voice isn't high or shaky anymore. It is dry and perfectly steady. You stare at him, surprised by the sudden bite in his tone. "He was nice to me though."

"He's a dumbass who fails half his classes and spends his weekends getting black-out drunk just because he has the money for it," Jake says, his eyes locking onto yours. "He isn't coming back to this house."

"Why are you saying things like that?" you ask, your heart beating a little faster against your ribs. "He's your friend."

Jake stares at you for another second. The expression on his face is cold, without any of his usual softness. He looks down at your collarbone and slowly back up to your eyes. He clears his throat and slumps his shoulders back down, his head dropping as he rubs the back of his neck. The nervous stutter returns but it sounds slightly forced.

"I just...I don't want him around anymore," Jake stammers, his voice rising back to its soft and shaky register. "He's...he's being annoying. He makes a mess. And he's loud."

He slides into the pool, letting the water come up to his chest, hiding his frame. But even underwater, his eyes stay on you, tracking your every move.

──────

The house was unnervingly quiet. One week before summer break, and the entire afternoon stretched before Jake, empty and ripe with opportunity. Not for studying nor packing, it’s actually for you.

His heart hammered against his ribs as he pushed open the door to your bedroom. The air was filled with the scent of your perfume and he loved it. He breathed it in deeply, his eyes scanning the room. Your bed was perfectly made. However it was the walk-in closet that called to him.

He stepped inside, the soft carpet muffling his footsteps. Your dressing room was a sanctuary of all his desires. Dresses hung on one side, blouses on the other. But his gaze fell to the dresser, its top neatly arranged with perfumes and jewelry. He pulled open the top drawer. There they were. Rows and rows of your panties. Lace, silk, cotton. Thongs, briefs, boyshorts.

His hands trembled as he reached in, his fingers brushing against the delicate material. He pulled out a black lace pair. He brought them to his face, inhaling your scent that made his cock twitch in his pants. He was sick, he knew he was. A depraved and obsessed freak, but he just couldn't stop. He snapped picture after picture with his phone, capturing the intimate details of your underwear drawer for his own personal collection.

Next, he moved to your desk, your laptop left open and sleeping. He shook the mouse, and the screen lit up. He was in. Your social media was already pulled up. He clicked on Instagram, his eyes scanning your feed. Pictures of you with your friends, selfies from class, a few with your mom and his dad. Then something immediately catched his eyes. A private message thread with Jay. ‘That motherfucker’ he thought.

He clicked on it, his stomach clenching. The conversation was ambiguous, full of inside jokes. Jay had sent a picture of himself, at the gym, probably to show you where he was and what he was doing. You'd like the picture and replied that he looked pretty good. After that, a message from Jay that made Jake's blood boil cold : "Can't wait for summer break. Maybe we can see each other."

A low growl rumbled in Jake's chest. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he muttered to the empty room. "Fucking asshole. You think you can have her just like that? You’re fucking dead." He slammed the laptop shut, the sound echoing in the quiet room. He had to see you. He had to watch you.

He retrieved the tiny camera he'd bought online, his hands shaking with a mixture of adrenaline and rage. He scanned the room, his eyes landing on the bookshelf across from your bed. Perfect. He climbed onto a chair, his fingers working quickly as he positioned the camera between two dusty hardcovers, the lens pointed directly at your bed. It was so small and almost invisible. He connected it to his phone, the live feed popping up instantly. He adjusted the angle, a sick sense of satisfaction settling in his gut. Now he could see you whenever he wanted, he could have you, in his own twisted way.

Hours later, he heard the front door open. You were home. He scrambled to his room, his heart pounding and locked the door. He grabbed his phone, opening the camera app, his eyes glued to the screen. He watched as you entered your bedroom, dropping your bag on the floor with a sigh. You looked tired, your hair slightly messy from a long day of classes. You stretched, your arms reaching for the ceiling, your shirt riding up to expose a sliver of skin on your stomach. Jake's breath hitched.

You turned your back to the camera, unbuttoning your jeans and shimmying out of them. His eyes were glued to the screen, his hand already palming his hardening cock through his pants. You stood there in your t-shirt and a simple pair of cotton panties, the ones he'd seen in your drawer that morning. You reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, revealing a plain white bra. You unhooked it, letting it fall to the floor, and Jake's cock sprang to life, straining against the fabric of his pajamas.

He freed himself, his hand wrapping around his thick shaft, his eyes still locked on the screen. You were just in your panties now, your body even more perfect than he'd imagined. He watched as you walked to your dresser, pulling out a silk nightgown, the fabric shimmering in the soft light of your room.

He started to stroke himself, his movements slow and sharp, his eyes never leaving the screen. He imagined it was his hands on your skin, his lips tracing the line of your collarbone. He imagined you looking up at him, with your beautiful eyes, whispering his name.

"Fuck, Y/N." he grunted, his strokes becoming faster, more urgent. He was so close. He watched as you slipped the nightgown over your head, the silk clinging to your body like a second skin. You climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin, and switched off the lamp.

The screen went dark but it was too late. With a final groan, Jake came, his release spurting onto his stomach and chest. He lay there, panting, his phone still clutched in his hand. He was sick, twisted, obsessed. As he stared at the dark screen, a satisfied smile spread across his face. He had you now. He had a piece of you, a secret part of you, all to himself. And he would never, ever let you go.

──────

Finally, summer break. The villa in Ibiza is built from white stone that holds the heat long after the sun goes down. You are sitting at the glass table on the terrace, squinting at your laptop screen while the Mediterranean wind tosses the pages of your textbook.

The biology quiz on the screen is full of red marks. You click an answer, get it wrong, and hiss a curse under your breath.

"That’s the third time you’ve picked the same protein synthesis pathway," Jake says. He’s sitting on the lounger behind you, hunched over a thick paperback. He’s clearly been tracking your failure.

"I know what I'm doing, Jake," you snap, clicking through to the next question.

"You clearly don't. You're forcing it because you're frustrated." He sighs, his voice thin and shaky. "If you just...if you looked at the diagram on page 214, it would—"

"I don't need the diagram, I need this to be over so I can go outside." You click another random answer. Wrong again. "Fuck this."

The chair behind you scrapes harshly against the stone. Suddenly, Jake is standing right over you. He grabs the back of your chair and spins it around so you’re forced to look at him.

"Stop clicking," he says.

The stutter is gone. His voice is flat. He leans down, placing one hand on the table and the other on the arm of your chair, effectively pinning you in place. His eyes are cold and intensely focused, stripped of their usual nervous blinking.

"You are wasting your time," he says, his gaze boring into yours. "Open the book. Read the section I told you to read. Do not click another button until you can explain the process back to me. Okay?"

You stare at him, your mouth slightly open. The quiet side of him is nowhere to be found; in his place is someone who looks like he could dismantle your entire argument with a single sentence.

"I—" you start but the words catch.

Jake blinks. The sharp lines of his face suddenly go soft. He recoils as if he’s been burned, his shoulders hitting his ears as he slumps back into his usual posture. He looks at his shoes, his fingers twitching at his sides.

"I...I mean," he stammers, his voice jumping back up higher. "It would just...it would save you time. S-sorry. I didn't mean to be...whatever that was."

He won't look at you now and he edges back toward his lounger. "I’m going to go down to the beach in 10 minutes. If you want to come. But, uh...finish the work first. I'll wait at the cove."

It takes you 40 minutes to finish. By the time you trek down the private stone path to the beach, the sun is beginning to dip, turning the sand into a pale gold. You spot him standing near the water's edge. He’s taken his shirt off, and the sight stops you in your tracks. Without the oversized hoodies to hide in, his frame is lean and surprisingly muscular, his skin tanned from the few days you've been here. He’s standing tall, looking out at the horizon, his posture relaxed and confident.

"Took you long enough," he calls out. He doesn't turn around but he knows it's you.

"The quiz was a bitch," you say, walking up to him. Up close, he looks different. His hair is pushed back by the wind and he isn't wearing his glasses.

He turns to look at you and grins. "Maybe you’re just a slow learner."

"Excuse me?" you laugh, shoving his shoulder.

"I'm just saying. I finished my credits two years ago." He dodges your next shove with a quick movement.

"You seem...different today," you say, eyeing him. "Did the salt air fix your brain?"

Jake shrugs, kicking a bit of foam toward you. "Maybe. Or maybe there’s just nobody here to perform for." He steps closer, his shadow falling over you. "Is it a problem?"

"No," you murmur. "It’s just...weird."

"Life is weird, you know." he says. Without warning, he reaches down and hooks his arms under your knees and around your back.

"Jake ! Put me down !" You shriek, grabbing his shoulders for balance. His skin is hot and slightly grit with salt.

"You need to cool off," he says. He’s not struggling with your weight at all. He walks into the surf, the water splashing against his thighs.

"Jake, I swear to God—"

He drops you. You hit the water with a splash, coming up gasping and shivering. You immediately lunged for him, grabbing his waist to pull him down with you. He loses his footing, and you both go under, treading water in the shallow break. You come up laughing, wiping hair from your face. Jake is right in front of you, his hands resting on your waist to steady you against a coming wave. The playfulness vanishes as the water settles between you.

The wave pushes you forward, flush against his chest. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you closer instead of letting you drift back. You look up, expecting to see his nervousness on his face, his eyes are fixed on your lips.

He leans in, agonizingly slow, giving you every second to move away. But you just feel like you don't want to.

When his lips touch yours, it’s not an accident of the waves. It lasts only a second where the world disappears, before he pulls back just an inch. His breath is jagged.

"S-sorry," he whispers, the stutter returning like a ghost. "The wave...pushed us."

He lets go of your waist and turns toward the shore, his shoulders already starting to hunch as he retreats into the surf.

The walk back up to the villa was silent.

Inside the villa, the air was cooler than a few hours ago. Jake disappeared into his suite immediately, leaving you standing in the foyer with damp hair and a racing pulse. You waited, leaning against the wall, until you heard the shower stop. When he finally stepped out into the hallway, he was wearing a fresh white t-shirt and grey joggers, his hair still dark and dripping.

"Jake," you said, your voice sounding thin in the high-ceilinged hall.

He stopped, his hand tightening on the towel around his neck.

"About the beach," you started, crossing your arms. "The kiss. It was...a mistake. The waves, everything…we should just forget it."

Jake was quiet for a long beat. He finally looked at you, his eyes unreadable behind the droplets of water clinging to his lashes. "It’s okay," he said. His voice was dull, almost sounding empty. "I already forgot."

He brushed past you, the scent of his soap lingering in the air, and disappeared into the kitchen. You retreated to your room and threw yourself onto the bed. You stared at the ceiling, trying to focus on your biology notes, but your mind kept looping back to the feeling of his hands on your waist. You tried to convince yourself that the spark was just a fluke, a side effect of the sun, yet the memory of his gaze in the water felt like a bruise that wouldn't stop aching.

Restless, you eventually left your room to wander in the villa. You ended up in a wing you hadn't explored yet. You pushed open a heavy oak door and found yourself in a studio bathed in the blue light of the moon. The room was filled with art pieces. Large canvases leaned against the walls, and stone statues, half-finished figures emerging from marble that stood on pedestals like in a museum. This was Jake’s mother’s space. You knew she had been an artist, but the sheer raw emotion in the room was overwhelming.

Jake stood perfectly still. He looked like one of the sculptures himself, a silhouette carved out of the darkness. You stopped a few feet away from him, your eyes wandering over the canvas near his shoulder.

"She stayed in here for days at a time," Jake said. His voice echoing through the room. "Dad hated it. He thought it was a waste of energy to create things that didn't have a profit margin."

"It’s not a waste," you said, stepping closer to a marble bust. You reached out, running your thumb over the cold and polished cheek of the figure. "It’s honest. You can feel how much she cared about this."

Jake turned his body toward you. He leaned his lower back against a heavy wooden workbench, his long legs stretching out across the floor. He wasn't hiding in his hoodie tonight, he was wearing a simple t-shirt that showed the sharp lines of his shoulders.

"Honesty is dangerous," he said. "People spend their whole lives building walls so they don't have to be honest. Then they come in here and realize they’re transparent."

"Is that why you’re in here?" you asked, looking at him. "To feel transparent?"

He watched you, his gaze moving from your eyes down to the hand you still had resting on the statue and back up again. The air in the room felt like it was thickening, becoming harder to breathe. He looked like he was taking you apart, piece by piece, analyzing the way the moonlight hit your skin.

"I’m in here because it’s the only room in this house where I don't have to pretend," he said. The honesty in his voice was a physical weight. He took a step toward you, closing the distance until you had to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. The height difference you usually ignored felt overwhelming now.

"You look pretty," he said. "Especially in this light. With your hair like that."

Your throat went dry. You expected him to look away, to blush and stammer a retraction, to go back to being the boy who couldn't look you in the eye at breakfast. But he didn't. He kept his eyes locked on yours, his expression unreadable and heavy.

"Jake," you breathed, the name more of a question than anything else.

"Oh please," he murmured, his voice dropping lower, sounding like velvet. "Don't look at me like you're surprised. You've been watching me just as much as I've been watching you."

He reached out, his hand hovering near your face for a second before he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers were warm, and they lingered there, his thumb ghosting over the shell of your ear with a slow pressure.

He let his hand drop yet he didn't move back. He stood there, looking satisfied with just being close to his prey, close to you. "Go to bed," he said, the command soft but absolute. "Before I stop being nice about it." You froze in an instant to his tone. He slightly turns before leaving. His voice suddenly softens. "If you’re searching for me, I’ll be at the pool. Goodnight."

──────

You shut the door to your suite and leaned your back against the wood, your lungs struggling to find a steady rhythm. The heat from his thumb against your ear felt like it had been branded into your skin. You walked to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors that led to your private balcony, needing the cold air to snap you out of the haze.

The moon illuminated the entire grounds, turning the pool into a glowing sapphire rectangle against the dark stone of the terrace.

A ripple broke the surface. He was there.

You stayed in the shadows of your room, watching. He moved through the water with a fluid, powerful stroke that was completely the opposite of the clumsy and apologetic boy who tripped over his own feet in the kitchen. He reached the edge of the pool and hauled himself out in one smooth motion.

Water cascaded down his back, defining the muscles of his shoulders and the lean taper of his waist. He stood there for a moment, dripping, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.He looked nothing like what you were thinking he was during those two years. He looked athletic, confident, and entirely too comfortable in his own skin.

You watched the way he ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back from his forehead. You found yourself wondering if he had ever been with anyone. The stutter, the hunched posture, and his awkwardness, it all felt like a clever lie now. If he could fake his entire personality, what else was he hiding? Could someone who looked like that, who moved like that, really be as inexperienced as he claimed to be?

He reached for a towel on a nearby chair, rubbing it over his face. Then, as if he could feel the weight of your stare from the second floor, his head snapped up. He didn't look startled. Not at all. He looked directly at the spot where you were standing in the darkness.

The distance was too great to see his eyes clearly, but the shift in his expression was unmistakable. A slow, knowing smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth ; a look of pure arrogant satisfaction. It was a silent acknowledgement that he knew exactly what you were doing. He knew you were watching, and he knew you liked what you saw.

Without a word, he slung the towel over his shoulder and walked toward the sliding doors of the villa, disappearing inside and leaving you alone with the sound of your own beating heart.

──────

The next morning, you sat at the breakfast table, picking at a plate of fruit while Jake’s dad scrolled through his emails at the head of the table.

Jake was sitting across from you, the nerd act back in full effect. He was slouched, his glasses slightly crooked, staring intensely at a bowl of cereal. But under the table, his foot found yours. He hooked his ankle around yours and began to slowly slide his foot up your calf. You stiffened, your fork hovering in mid-air. You looked at him, but he was mid-stutter, answering a question from his dad about the stock market.

"I-I think the tech sector is just...it's volatile right now, Dad," Jake mumbled, his face a mask of awkward concentration.

Beneath the tablecloth, his foot pressed harder, his toes tracing the sensitive skin behind your knee. You shifted in your seat, your face heating up. You tried to pull away, but he followed, his movements precise and unrelenting. He was watching you out of the corner of his eye, a tiny, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips the only sign he was enjoying your frustration.

"Are you kay?" His dad asked, looking up. "You're barely eating."

"I'm fine," you said, your voice a bit too sharp. "I’m just not hungry."

Jake finally pulled his foot away, sitting up straight. "Actually, Dad, I'm g-going out today. Some guys from the engineering department are in Ibiza for the week. They invited me to a beach club."

His dad looked surprised. "Good for you, Jake. You need to get out more. Why don't you take her with you ?"

Jake turned to you, his eyes wide and blinking. "Oh, yeah. Do you...do you want to come? It might be b-boring, but..."

"Will Jay be there?" you asked, leaning back. "He mentioned to me that he was coming to Ibiza."

The change was instantaneous. Jake’s expression flattened. His shyness didn't just fade, it evaporated into a cold and hard wall. He stood up, grabbing his phone.

"Nevermind," he said, his voice dropping into that low, steady register. "You're not coming."

He walked out of the dining room without looking back.

By 10:00 PM, the villa felt like a tomb. Jake’s dad had gone to bed early, and Jake hadn't returned. You tried to watch a movie, but the silence of the house was grating. On a whim, you grabbed your purse and headed out. You needed noise.

You took a taxi and got toward the town, the neon lights of the coast beginning to blur. You got out of the car and dialed Jake’s number. He picked up on the third ring. The background noise was a low thumping bass.

"Where are you?" you asked. "I'm bored out of my mind."

"I'm at a place called The Vault," he said with no stutter, the noise of a party in the background. "Come if you want. I'll put your name at the door."

He hung up.

When you pulled up to The Vault, you noticed the blacked-out windows and the massive security guards, but you didn't think much of it, everything in Ibiza was over-the-top. You walked past the velvet rope and into the red-lit interior.

As soon as you entered you saw the stage. It was a platform where a woman was slowly spinning around a chrome pole. You froze. It was a strip club. A high-end and discreet one, but a strip club nonetheless.

You scanned the room, your heart hammering. In the far corner, a raised VIP section was cordoned off. You saw Jay first, laughing with a drink in his hand, a girl in a minimal outfit leaning against his shoulder. A few seconds after you saw Jake.

He was leaning back in a deep leather booth, a glass of liquor in his hand. He looked like he owned the entire building. His black button-down was open at the collar, and he looked relaxed, dangerous, and entirely in control. He caught your eye across the smoky room. He didn't look shocked to see you, he smiled and signaled for the guard to let you up.

"Damn, Y/N? Is that really you ?" Jay shouted over the music as you reached the booth. "Jake said you were too much of a ‘good girl’ for this place."

Jake didn't say a word as he shifted over, patting the leather seat right next to him. "Sit down." You sat, your thigh pressed against his. The heat from his body was immediate. The tension from the morning hadn't vanished, it had condensed into something much sharper.

"You didn't tell me what kind of club this was," you hissed into his ear.

Jake leaned in close, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "I told you exactly where I was. You're the one who decided to show up."

He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes fixed on the stage where a dancer was performing. He didn't look away but his hand moved, his fingers splaying across your knee.

"Since you're here," he murmured, his voice voice through the loud music, "you might as well watch. It’s educational, isn't it?"

Jay was busy talking to someone else, leaving you trapped in Jake's orbit. His hand started to move, his thumb tracing slow and rhythmic circles on the fabric of your skirt. Every time the bass dropped, his grip tightened just a fraction.

"You're different here," you say, looking at his profile.

He turned his head slowly, his face inches from yours. The red light of the club made his eyes look almost black.

"I'm the same as I always was," he said. "Maybe you weren’t just paying attention to that."

He leaned back, his arm draping over the back of the booth behind your head, effectively caging you in. He looked over at Jay, then back to you, his eyes narrowing.

"Do you still think he's handsome?" Jake asked, his voice low. "Or do I have your full attention now?"

──────

The night air was a welcome shock after the suffocating heat of the club. It clung to your skin, cool and sharp, doing little to sober you up but clearing your head just enough. The world tilted pleasantly as you walked, Jake's hand a firm, grounding pressure on your elbow, steering you through the loose crowd of people lingering on the sidewalk.

"I had no idea you were that much fun," you said, the words bubbling up, loose and unrestrained. You leaned your head against his shoulder for a moment as he unlocked the car door. "Like, genuinely fun. That’s crazy."

He let out a short, amused breath as he helped you into the passenger seat. "Gee, thanks. I'll cherish that compliment forever." He didn't sound offended, he was entertained. The engine rumbled to life and the city lights smeared across the windshield as he pulled away from the curb.

The ride home was comfortably quiet, the sound of the radio a distant melody beneath the sound of your own breathing. You watched him, noticing how he was so familiar, a constant in your life for years, but tonight, he felt different.

Inside the villa, instead of disappearing in his room like he usually did, he followed you into the kitchen, his movements quiet. You sank onto a barstool, resting your head in your hands.

"Here," he said softly. A glass of water appeared in front of you, along with two little white pills. "You'll thank me tomorrow."

You looked up at him, at the genuine concern etched on his face in the soft lighting. He was actually taking care of you. A warmth bloomed in your chest, a feeling so intense and sudden it almost took your breath away. It wasn't new, you realized with a jolt. It had been there for a while, buried under layers of the step-brother status and growing quietly in the dark. Tonight, the alcohol had simply stripped away the camouflage.

"Jake," you said, your voice barely audible.

"Hmm?" He was leaning against the counter opposite you, arms crossed and watching you.

You stood up, the stool scraping softly against the floor. You closed the small distance between you until you were standing so close you could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. "I really want to kiss you."

The words hung in the air between you. For a split second, you saw it ; a hint of something in his eyes. Hesitation ? Maybe conflict ? It was there and now it’s gone, replaced by a thing you’ve never seen before. He didn't move, like he just froze. So you took the initiative. You rose onto your toes and pressed your lips to his.

For a terrifying moment, he was still, a statue under your touch. And with a soft groan that sounded like surrender, he gave in. His hands shot out, one tangling in your hair, the other gripping your waist to pull you flush against him. The kiss was nothing like you'd imagined. It was hungry, a little desperate, a release of all the tension that was built since then. His tongue swept against yours, claiming your mouth, it was possessive and a little bit angry.

He walked you backward out of the kitchen and down the hall, his lips never leaving yours, guiding you with his body until your back hit the door of your bedroom. He fumbled with the handle, pushing it open and kicking it shut behind you. He broke the kiss, both of you breathing heavily in the darkness of your room.

"Y/N," he breathed, his voice rough. "I can’t—"

However he was already moving, pushing you gently towards your bed. You sat down on the edge, looking up at him. He stood before you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his expression a storm of conflicting emotions. He slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of you on the bed. The sight of him there, sent a jolt of pure arousal straight through you. He placed his hands on your knees, spreading them apart. Then, he lifted one leg, placing his denim-clad thigh firmly between yours, right against the core of you.

"Go on," he urged, his voice a low command. "Take what you need."

It was an invitation you couldn't refuse. You began to move, rocking your hips against the hard muscle of his thigh. The friction of your core against him, the pressure right where you needed it, was intoxicating. Your hands gripped his forearm, your head falling back as you found a rhythm, chasing the pleasure that was building rapidly inside you.

"That's it," he murmured, his hands sliding up your thighs to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. "Just like that. Fuck, you look so good riding my thigh."

His words were gasoline on a fire. You moved faster, grinding against him, the coil in your stomach tightening and tightening, until you were right there, hovering on the precipice of your release. You could feel it, so close you could almost taste it.

But he moved.

He shifted his leg, just enough to break the perfect, maddening pressure. A whine of protest escaped your lips, your eyes flying open to meet his. He was watching you, his expression dark, a look of cruel satisfaction on his face.

"Jake," you begged, your hips still twitching with need.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Not tonight, angel." he whispered, his voice a soft, devastating blow. He placed a gentle, almost chaste kiss on your cheek. Then he stood up, leaving you cold and wanting on the edge of your bed.

He walked to the door without looking back. "Goodnight, Y/N."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you in the sudden, deafening silence of your room, your body humming with unfulfilled desire and the shocking, undeniable truth of your feelings for him.

──────

The villa felt larger and colder with Jake’s dad gone. The morning light was flat and grey, a sharp contrast to the blistering heat of the previous week. You sat on the edge of the sofa in the main living area, watching the dust motes dance in the air.

Jake had been a ghost all morning. He’d walked past you three times without a word, his eyes fixed on his phone or the floor, his shoulders back in their defensive, rounded slump.

The glass doors slid open, and Jake stepped inside from the terrace, dripping wet. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and a towel was slung loosely around his neck. He started toward the hallway, his head down, intending to bypass you entirely.

"Why are you ignoring me ?"

The question came out of nowhere. It was born from a week of mounting frustration and the strange, electric silence that had followed the night at the club.

Jake stopped, not turning around immediately. He stood with his back to you, the water from his swim trunks pooling on the stone floor. When he finally looked over his shoulder, he had the shy mask pulled tight. His eyes were wide, and he blinked rapidly behind his damp glasses.

"I...I'm n-not," he stammered, his voice thin. "I just have a lot of...work. From the university. The fall semester is starting soon, and I—"

"Stop it, Jake." You stood up, walking toward him until you were only a few feet away. "You’ve been avoiding eye contact since breakfast. You didn't even say good morning."

"I was just...busy, that’s all." he mummurred, looking at his feet.

"Why do you do that?" you asked, your curiosity finally overriding your caution. "How do you do it? One minute you're the guy who can't speak a full sentence without shaking, and the next you’re the person I saw at that club. And we even—" you stop yourself, the memories of the night before coming back to life in your head.

Jake stayed silent but you could notice how he stopped blinking frantically.

"It’s just us, Jake," you stepped closer, your voice dropping. "Nobody is watching. You don't have to play the part. It’s exhausting to watch you switch back and forth."

He still didn't speak, his breathing shallow.

"Something is happening," you said, the honesty of the statement making your heart thud. "Between us. It’s been growing during the whole summer break, and you know it. Why are you pretending it’s not?"

Not a single recoil. He slowly stood up straight, the hunch in his spine vanishing as he reached his full height. He pulled the towel from his neck and used it to slowly wipe the water from his face. When he dropped the towel onto a nearby chair, the shy boy was gone. His expression was unreadable. He didn't deny it nor did he confirm it. He looked at you with a terrifyingly calm intensity that made the air in the room feel unbearable.

Then, the corner of his mouth ticked upward into a slow, smug smile. It was the look of someone who had been caught but didn't care.

"I'm going to take a shower," he said. His voice was a steady vibration, completely devoid of any tremor. He started toward his suite, but as he reached the door, he paused and looked back at you over his shoulder. He let his gaze wander down your body before meeting your eyes again.

"You could always come with me," he murmured, his tone mocking and sharp. "If you’re so worried about being ignored."

Before you could answer, he stepped into his room and closed the door, the click of the lock echoing through the empty villa.

──────

Beyond all of this, you decided to cook. Not because you were hungry, it’s just because it was the only thing you could do to keep your mind off what happened these previous days. You focused on the task, deliberately keeping your mind off the shower running down the hall or the way he had looked at you before closing his door. You weren't going to wait for him.

The scent of his soap hits you a second before the heat of his body did.

You didn't hear his footsteps, but suddenly, thick arms slid around your waist, pulling you back against a solid, damp chest. You froze, the knife still in your hand, as his chin came to rest on your shoulder. He smelled of clean skin and a faint, expensive cologne.

"What's for dinner?" he asked.

His voice was a deep vibration against your ear, devoid of any stutter. He tightened his grip, his hands splaying across your stomach, pulling you flush against him so you could feel the dampness of his fresh t-shirt.

"Pasta," you managed to say, though your voice sounded strained. "And let go of me, Jake. I’m holding a knife."

"You're so tense," he murmured, ignoring your request. He shifted, his nose brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. "Your heart is going like crazy. Why is that?"

"It’s hot in here. The stove is on."

"Right. The stove." He let out a short, dry laugh ; a sound that was more of a scoff. He turned you around in his arms, forcing you to face him. He leaned back against the counter, trapping you between his legs. His glasses were gone, and his eyes were dark, tracking the way your breathing had become shallow. "You’re a fucking liar."

"And you're a fucking prick for playing these stupid games with me," you snapped, trying to push against his chest.

He didn't budge. He watched you, his hands moving to your hips to hold you in place. The shyness was nowhere to be found ; he looked at you with a heavy-handed confidence that felt predatory.

"You could eat something better than pasta," he said.

Before you could ask what he meant, he tilted your head back. He leaned down and captured your mouth with a raw, dominant intensity. This was deep and unapologetic, his tongue sliding against yours as he tasted you with hunger. He kissed you like he was finally claiming something he’d been watching from the periphery for years, his hands gripping your hips hard enough that you knew there would be marks the next day. The air in the kitchen felt like it was disappearing, leaving only the heat of him and the sharp, sudden reality that the mask had finally stayed off.

His hand slid from your waist to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair with a gentle but possessive grip. He pulled you toward him, and the next thing you knew, you were on your knees on the cool tile. The transition was seamless. You looked up at him, his presence towering over you, and reached out lower his sweatpants and his boxers. He wasn't interested in a slow and teasing exploration. He wanted it now.

You took him into your mouth, the taste of him flooding your senses. You started with a slow, prudent rhythm, your tongue tracing the vein along the underside, but the look in his eyes told you he wasn't in the mood for patience. His hand tightened in your hair as a silent command, and he guided your head downward.

You gagged slightly, the sudden intrusion making your eyes water, yet you didn't pull away. You let him take control, his hips thrusting forward, setting a rhythm that was faster than you expected. The kitchen was filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your mouths, a deafening contrast to the peaceful scenery of the villa.

"That’s a good girl," he growled, his other hand gripping your cheek.

You looked up at him through glazed eyes, a soft, pathetic whine escaping you around his cock. It was a sound of pure surrender, of being overwhelmed by sensation. He groaned again, the sound low and feral, and began to face fuck you with ruthless precision. Each thrust was harder than the last, his cock hitting the back of your throat, forcing you to take it all.

You couldn't do anything but hold on, your hands gripping his thighs for support, your breath coming in short and ragged gasps. You were completely at his mercy, his tool a piston driving into your mouth with increasing speed and ferocity. The heat of the room seemed to spike, the air feeling thick and charged with desire.

"That's it," he commanded, his voice strained. "Take it all. You love this, don't you? You love getting fucked in the mouth."

You whined again, a mix of pleasure and desperation, your body trembling as he bottomed out. You couldn't speak or couldn't form words, surrendered to the rhythm he set, letting him use your mouth exactly the way he wanted.

He stopped and pulled out, bringing his fingers to your mouth. You suck on his finger, swirling your tongue around the tip like it’s the most delicious thing in the world, desperate to taste more of him even as you gasp for air. He watches you with a smirk, pulling his hand out slowly and watching you chase it, lips parting in a pathetic whine. "God, look at you," he scoffs, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're dripping all over the floor like a desperate little slut."

He lifts his pelvis, dragging the slick, angry head of his cock against your wet, swollen lips. He doesn't let you swallow him this time. He taps the tip rhythmically against your mouth—tap, tap, tap—teasing you, denying you the fullness you're begging for. "You want it ? Sorry, baby."

He pulls away completely, leaving you straining on the cold floor, mouth open and wanting. He pulls his pants and boxers up with a casual snap, ignoring your hand reaching out for him. "Enjoy your pasta alone," he says, turning on his heel and walking out of the kitchen, leaving you panting and aching on the tiles.

[orbitondgtl]

pairing: jay x reader

summary: Jay is someone you can always turn to, even when your relationship is starting to fall apart and his true feelings become increasingly difficult to hide.

total wc: ???

wc pt. 1/2: 7,706

au: non-idol au

tags: non-idol au, jealousy, friends to lovers, tension, romance, reader has an oc boyfriend at the start, nothing happens during their relationship apart from heavy tension, jungwon is jay’s stepbrother, sunghoon and sunoo cameos, sunsun crumbs if you squint very hard and read between the lines, mild explicit content (part 2!)

PART 2 ✦ ENHYPEN M.LIST ✦ ASKS/REQUESTS : OPEN! i’m taking requests for drabbles (: ✦ SIGN UP FOR MY TAGLIST HERE! ✦ ORBIT MAP

There was nothing a smile on your face couldn’t fix. 

With your boyfriend’s hand resting on the small of your back, you were watching how he talked to his friends. Every time one of his friends glanced at you, you felt his hand grip you like a warning. 

Yunmin had always been sweet and he was nothing short of loving, but the stress at his job was getting to him. It was becoming clear that it was something he wasn’t capable of handling because more often than not, you were at the receiving end of his frustrations. Whenever you talked it out, it worked for a day until he started lashing out again. 

You had your first fight before the party and it had broken the camel’s back. You doubted there was any love left between you after the way you screamed at each other. You’d never experienced such a fallout between you and your boyfriend, so maybe you were overthinking it. 

You’d always been the type to flutter about, talking to everybody and being every and nowhere at once, but cheating was a line you never crossed. You’d made abundantly clear to your boyfriend before the party and it had fallen on deaf ears because here he was, squeezing your back like you would disappear if he let you go. 

You suppressed a yawn when they started talking about investments and started looking around. The party was fairly small, but big enough to lose people in the crowd. Sunghoon’s house could fit the tenfold of what was invited, but it was a miracle he hosted a party in the first place. 

From across the room, a pair of eyes burned into your back. 

You turned around to Jay lingering near the drinks, a bottle in his hand and his sharp eyes piercing through you. Black strands of hair framed his face and his frame was loosely hugged by a shirt and jeans. He took a sip of his bottle without breaking eye contact. 

You snapped back to Yunmin, crossing your arms over your body. You tried to follow the conversation, but you couldn’t shake the way Jay looked at you. Like he was… angry, furious even. He never had a knack for hiding his true feelings, no matter how hard he tried. Sometimes you could see the way his nose crinkled, or how his eyebrows furrowed and his lips jutted out. 

That night, it was because he watched you like a hawk. 

When you glanced in his direction again, he was still sitting there but Jungwon had joined him, standing behind the couch right where Jay was sitting. Jungwon was talking to him, a glass decorating his hand and a bright smile on his face. 

Jay engaged in the way he always would, attentive and caring. Especially when it came to Jungwon, he was light and gentle in the way he interacted if Jungwon could behave himself and he didn’t have to pull out his older brother cards. Brothers by bond, you’d quickly noticed. 

Jay’s eyes flicked to you and Jungwon faded to the background. His eyes clouded over, freezing you where you were standing. 

You noticed the way your heart skipped a beat and your cheeks burned up. You freed yourself from your boyfriend’s grip, announcing you’d be searching for your own friends. Without another word to him, you left the room.  

Luck would have it that you bumped right into Sunghoon, grabbing you by the shoulders to steady you. He took one good look at you to decide that you needed a drink and pulled a bottle out of the fridge, mixing it in with some soda. 

“Don’t tell Jungwon. I told him the liquor was off limits,” he said and handed you the cup. “We all remember the last time he got his hands on it.” 

You took it and winced. Your eyes darted to him. “With the smell coming from this, do you really think he’ll be fooled?”

“Let’s just hope so.” Sunghoon patted your back and directed you back to the living room. His hand was on your shoulder, guiding you through the crowd and steering you right past Yunmin and his friends. He squeezed your shoulder, his grip only loosening when you joined the group. 

He’d softened and looked for signs of discontent, or frustration perhaps. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, instead ignoring your friend in favour of the people that came flocking to you. 

Sunoo swung a lazy arm around Sunghoon and shot you a grin. “Look at you, free from the grip of the boring finance boys convention.” 

From the corner of your eye, you glanced at Jay studying you with a careful expression as you kept your attention on the younger. “Aren’t you a doll?”

His grin got wider as he plopped on the couch next to Jay. He took the bottle that Jungwon held out to him and held it up to you. “Cheers.” 

You raised your cup and took a swig. The alcohol burnt in the back of your throat and your lips twitched, but you kept your face straight. Alas, you made the mistake of looking at Sunghoon, who hid his smile behind his own cup. You kicked in his direction and he broke out in a laugh. 

You kicked again, your shoe brushing his leg lightly. The eyes burnt into you and when you turned to Jay, his brows were knitted together. He got up and looked into your cup before he looked at you. 

The scent of sandalwood and amber made your head spin. 

His eyes darted to Sunghoon before they darted back at you. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. The sensation made you shiver. “Don’t let Jungwon know. His whining for the rest of the night will be my problem.” 

You chuckled and pushed his chest playfully. “Poor you, having to deal with your stepbrother.” 

“It’s a job in itself.” Jay flashed a grin at you and patted your back before pushing the bottle in your hand. “I’ll grab us some snacks.” 

“It’s my house, but yeah sure.” Sunghoon shrugged and took a swig. “Whatever suits him, I guess.” 

You looked over your shoulder, where Jay passed Yunmin. Jay didn’t even acknowledge him, brushing past as if he was another stranger at the party. A pit formed in your stomach, but your boyfriend didn’t even notice. That or he purposefully ignored Jay as much as it was the other way around.  

Your friends liked Yunmin. Even with the fights going on at that moment, they never expressed that they didn’t anymore. Among them, it was just Jay who seemed to have a problem with him as of recently. Was there something wrong that you’d ignored all that time or was it something personal on Jay’s side? You‘d never set to find out why and until then, you were content with not knowing. 

Seeing how the two just ignored each other, where before they could get along just fine, you had more questions than answers. 

Of course, the fight between you and your boyfriend had made all of them a little wary. The occasional jokes hadn’t escaped you, like Sunoo’s snarky remark about him and his friends in finance. He’d done it more than once, but that time, you couldn’t help but feel that it bore a different intention. 

“I robbed empty tables of its bowls,” Jay said and put everything on the saloon table in front of him. “What a waste of food.” 

“I won’t say no to that,” Jungwon responded and leaned forward, rummaging in a bowl of crisps. 

You watched him stuff his mouth and chuckled. After a sip of your drink, you threw yourself back in the cushions with a sigh. 

Four heads turned your way. 

You shrugged and took a sip. “This party is fun despite the fact that I fought with Yunmin and we’re very much sucking at putting up a front.”

“Perfect excuse to have everyone sleep over,” Sunghoon decided with a smile. “My parents are out of town for the week, but it’s not like they’re opposed to having you here anyway.” 

Jungwon raised his hand. “Small problem. I’m technically still somewhat under super surveillance after the last party I went to, so I need to go home.” 

“That’s a strange way of saying that you’re grounded at your big age of twenty-two,” Sunoo remarked. He grinned when the youngest whacked him in the head with a pillow. “Kidding.” 

“I’ll take him home and collect some stuff,” Jay said and finished his bottle of beer. “I’m not the one who’s grounded so I’m free to roam wherever.”

“You’re also nearing your mid-twenties.” Sunghoon arched an eyebrow. “I best hope you have that freedom.” 

You looked at Jay, raising your eyebrows with a grin. “Do you? Or will your parents also ground you like they did to Jungwon?”

“Not grounded,” Jungwon corrected with a raised finger. “They’re just keeping an eye on me.”

“Potayto, potahto.”  

He deadpanned you, to which you giggled. “If I could go back in time and tell seventeen-year-old me to say no to Jay when he asked me if I wanted to tag along with him and his friends, I would’ve.”

Sunghoon raised his cup. “Cheers to that.” 

Jungwon rolled his eyes, but you saw the smile tugging at his lips. “You’re cool, or whatever.” 

You glanced over at your boyfriend locking eyes with you, but you looked away again. You were not in the mood to deal with him right now and your heart sunk when you realised. All you bore for him at that moment was resentment. That was how far it had already come that night. 

Maybe that was why Sunghoon suggested taking you away for one night. And where your resentment was growing, Yunmin’s suspicions were as well. 

Which is why you already sensed that your decision to stay over would not go over lightly. 

Yunmin clenched his fists through a tight smile. “Well, if that makes you feel more comfortable than staying with me tonight, who am I to say no? We can talk about it in the morning if you’re up for it.” 

Four pairs of eyes poked holes in your back, one of them much fiercer than the other. 

“In fact, I do want to talk tomorrow," you said determinedly. “Plus, everyone’s staying over if that puts you at ease. Except Jungwon, but he’s grounded.” 

“For fuck-” Jungwon groaned. “They’re just keeping an eye on me!” 

Yunmin’s face was stale. He wouldn’t even manage a small smile, let alone a chuckle. His eyes darted to the company behind you before landing on you again. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning, then.” 

“I’ll take her home.” 

You froze. 

His eyes clouded over. He crossed his arms and rolled his shoulders back. 

You looked over your shoulder and glanced at a very concerned Sunghoon before your eyes landed on Jay. His face had hardened. 

“We have cars to drive her,” he doubled down. “You can look for her at home sometime tomorrow.” 

Yunmin shook his head firmly. “I don’t want you driving her.”

“Why? Scared she’ll dip out?” 

Sunghoon jumped up and patted his back. “I’ll take her home tomorrow. She’s taken care of, alright? No need to get yourself out of bed after a party this late.” 

He shot a last glare at Jay and clenched his jaw before he walked off. 

Sunoo clicked his tongue and leaned back in his seat. “Well, I guess we have to keep an eye out for him, before he takes the opportunity to jump on Jay when he’s alone.” 

You looked at the friend in question and narrowed your eyes. “Have you done something to him?” 

Jay shrugged. “Apart from murdering his entire family because that’s how he acts, nothing comes to mind.” He rummaged in his pockets and patted Jungwon’s shoulder. “Come on, curfew is near.”

“For the last time, I’m not grounded!” Jungwon cried out and bid you a hurried farewell, trailing on his stepbrother’s heel. From the other side of the room, you could still hear him complaining. 

You managed a small smile and sat back down on the couch, resting your head against the back. You observed the ceiling. Completed to near perfection, nothing about it seemed to indicate that something was wrong. You knew the spot where Sunghoon smashed a ball right through it at his graduation party. 

You knew where to look. 

Sunghoon had left you to say goodbye to the people that were leaving. When you lifted your head, you saw him outside talking to Yunmin and his friends. Once again, he ignored Jay when he brushed past with a sports bag clutched in his fist. 

Jay rolled his eyes when he entered the living room and tossed the bag on the ground, muttering underneath his breath. When he locked eyes with you, he pointed at it. “I got some stuff for you as well.”

You sat up and tilted your head, ignoring Sunoo’s staring from behind you.  

“I would’ve asked you for a key to get some at your place, but I figured that your mother would’ve killed me on the spot, thinking I was an intruder.”

With a small smile, you nodded. “Thank you.” You turned back to Sunoo. “What about you?” 

“I basically live here in my free time,” he answered and leaned back on his hand. “If you squint very hard, I have my own bedroom.” 

“Unfortunately, my parents don’t get sick of you,” Sunghoon’s voice cut in. He whisked Sunoo to the side and squeezed in. “So, my parents’ bedroom is off limits. Two of you have to share.”

All eyes were on you, to which you raised your hands. “I’ve shared a bed with all of you before. Go crazy.” 

“Then it’s Jay’s turn. I was last.” Sunoo flashed a lazy grin at the oldest. “You don’t mind, don’t you?” 

Jay grabbed his bag and swung it over his shoulder. He looked at you in anticipation and you hoisted yourself up. 

As you looked at Sunghoon, his brows were knitted together. He quickly shot you a smile and eased back into his seat. 

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Sunoo called after you. 

You rolled your eyes and went up the stairs after Jay, navigating through the first floor like it was your own home. You closed the door behind you, but lingered near, watching how Jay put the bag down at the bedside. He sat down and closed his eyes for a second, his chest rising and falling. 

“Tired?” You asked. 

His eyes fluttered open and darted to you, making your breath hitch. “Yeah, sure.” He reached for his bag and tossed a shirt and sweatpants your way. “You can take the bathroom.” 

You clutched the clothes in your hand and nodded slowly. The clothes were fresh, but the scent of his perfume still lingered. You glanced at him with a small smile and turned on your heel. 

“If Yunmin gets mad, let him.”

You halted in your tracks and looked over your shoulder. 

Jay looked straight at you. “It’s not like you’ve never worn my clothes before,” he continued with a shrug. “You can’t do anything right for him at the moment, might as well do whatever.” 

“Don’t look into it so hard. It’s just a stupid fight.” 

“And it’s making you miserable.” 

You scoffed and opened the door. As you threaded into the hallway, Jay slipped through the doorway. “I swear, if you’re going to tell me you kept an eye on me all night–”

“Look at how this is making you feel!” When you walked to the bathroom, he came after you. “You admitted yourself that you can’t pretend nothing has happened. Why do you think Sunghoon got you out of there?” 

“I need to handle this myself, Jay,” you told him tightly. “And especially you need to stay put because for some bizarre reason, he’s after you.” When he opened his mouth, you cut in. “I’m not some damsel in distress, alright? I’m talking to him in the morning and then this will be fine.” 

You brushed past him and locked the door. You and Yunmin were going to be fine. It was just a stupid fight. 

You woke up against something steady. 

Your eyes adjusted to the dim light coming through the curtains as you propped yourself up. 

Jay was still asleep, facing you. He’d curved himself in a half moon, as if he wrapped himself around something. 

Or someone. 

You closed your eyes and pressed your lips together, but you were too tired to care. Carefully, you hoisted yourself in your former position, fitting right in. 

As you closed your eyes, a croaked voice cut through the silence. 

“You did this in your sleep,” Jay slurred. 

You looked up and tilted your head. 

His eyes were still closed, but his mouth moved again. 

“Do you know you talk in your sleep?” He continued, to which you hummed. “I woke up because you were talking. Not the first time, by the way.”

“And now you care to tell me this,” you retorted. 

His eyes fluttered open, making your heart jump. He stretched his arms with a groan. “You were full on talking to me as you curled up against me in a ball. You got mad when I wanted to move.” 

Your cheeks flushed. “Sorry.” 

Jay flashed you a grin and nudged you. “It was quite funny. That you got mad, not what you were saying to me before.” 

“I doubt I want to know.” You moved away from him and rolled your shoulders back. 

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Let us spare the conflict.” 

You glanced aside, but let the conversation end there. You threw the cover aside and rose out of bed, hoisting yourself in Jay’s sweatpants. The thought of having to face Yunmin already clawed at you. 

You looked over your shoulder, where Jay sat on the edge of the bed. His arms moved up and the muscles in his shoulders and back moved along, exposed to the morning breeze. You felt your eartips burning and looked away. 

You’d never had this with Jay before until last night, when his gaze lingered a little too long. It was wrong. It was completely wrong. You had your boyfriend and the last thing you’d do was betray him, no matter how rocky your relationship felt at that point. 

Jay was one of the people that always stuck up for you, who was there in solace and comfort, to spend time with you or to give you a distraction. He did it all without asking for anything in return. So maybe, you felt yourself drawing to him in a moment of vulnerability. 

You excused yourself and hurried downstairs. 

Sunghoon and Sunoo were already in the kitchen, one more shrivelled than the other. 

You arched an eyebrow at Sunoo, who was sitting on the counter next to Sunghoon. “What have you done that makes you look like that?”

He chuckled and fixed his hair, his cheeks flushing a light pink. “I don’t know. My hair has a habit of standing up straight when I wake up.” 

Sunghoon’s back was facing you as he spoke. “How have you slept?”

“Considerably well after last night’s run-in with Yunmin.” You hummed and slid into a bar stool. “How about you?”

“Oh, yeah. Fine.” He brushed past you to put the scrambled eggs on the table and turned back to the stove. “Sunoo, can you grab some extra mix out back? I don’t think I’ll have enough.”

Sunoo saluted him and slid off the counter, strutting out of the kitchen.

Sunghoon turned to you. “Yunmin and Jay hate each other.” 

“Believe me, it hasn’t escaped me.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. “I don’t even know why Yunmin reacted so poorly to him last night. Everyone with a car has dropped me off at least once.” 

“Would you believe me if I said that Yunmin views him as competition?” 

You snapped your head in his direction. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” He leaned against the counter with crossed arms. “It’s just how Jay is with everyone, though, but he cares a lot about you and maybe Yunmin is threatened by it.” 

“Because Yunmin thinks Jay likes me.” 

“Yeah.” 

You bobbed your head and clicked your tongue. “I’ll see if I can bring it up to him. And even if Jay likes me, there’s no reason for him to think I like him back.”

Sunghoon agreed and turned back to the stove as the door opened. Sunoo came back with another box, while Jay strutted into the kitchen from the living room. 

“Let’s test it.” You turned to Jay before your best friend could even protest. “Yunmin probably has reason to believe that you like me.” 

“Yunmin is stupid for thinking that,” Jay said without missing a beat. He walked to the cupboards and grabbed plates and bowls, setting the table while Sunghoon got the remainder of breakfast ready. 

You patted Jay’s shoulder. “I knew I could count on you.” 

He saluted you, to which you snickered. He flashed a grin and sat down across from you. Apart from the clinking of cutlery and Jay and Sunoo’s occasional bickering, silence was the staple of the morning. You finished two plates worth of food and leaned back in your seat, checking your phone. 

Yunmin: Let me know when you’re home. I love you

You put your phone away and got up. “I’m going to get dressed.” 

Jay furrowed a brow. “You don’t have to?”

“Since Yunmin is this close,” you held your index finger just above your thumb, “to opening a witch hunt on you without reason, I think I should.” You turned on your heel and went back upstairs without another word and prepared for the worst.

Your mother was out with her friends for the day and you were glad she couldn’t be a witness to another possible fight. 

When your boyfriend came through the back door, the bags under his eyes were visible from a mile away. His eyes were sunken in his head and his hair was exactly the same as the night before. At least he’d had the energy to change his clothes, but you had no doubt it was out of appearance more than willingness. 

You observed how he came towards you, small and hesitant steps as if he was overthinking every last bit of his actions. 

Yunmin lingered by the doorframe and rubbed his chin. “I don’t like fighting with you, at all.” 

“Makes two of us.” You motioned to the couch. “You can sit down, you know? You’re no stranger in this house.” 

He assured you he was fine and sighed. “Listen, I don’t want my job to cause a rift between us so I’ll do everything I can to not let it happen again, okay? My outburst last night was uncalled for.” 

You bobbed your head and crossed your arms. 

“I don’t know what came over me. I just…” He shrugged weakly. “I had so little time already and when you said you wanted to catch up with your friends at the party, I think something inside of me snapped.” He waved his hands  “You have all the right to spend time with them, don’t get me wrong! I think I found it unfair, that’s all.”

“Are you scared of something?” 

Yunmin’s brows pushed together. “What do you mean?” 

“Your outburst yesterday, the way you were ready to clock Jay in the face, just generally how you and Jay behave around each other.” You narrowed your eyes. “Is there something I should know?” 

“Flattered, but Jay’s not my type.” 

You deadpanned him, a smile tugging at your lips. “Darling, we’re having a serious conversation here.” 

Yunmin flashed you a sheepish smile and rubbed his neck. “I don’t know, love. What do you think you should know?”

For a second, Sunghoon’s words lingered in the back of your mind. You shook your head with a smile. “Nothing.” You rubbed your hands off on your pants. “I should apologise as well, for how nasty I got last night. There was no reason for me to be so mean to you and I’ll make sure that I’ll regulate myself better in the future.” 

Yunmin buried you in his arms and swayed you from left to right gently. He pressed a kiss to your hair and the warmth spread through your chest. 

You looked up at him. “Would you like to join me and my friends in a couple of weeks? I’m meeting them for drinks at the pub in town for Sunoo’s birthday.” 

He smiled at you more genuinely than he’d done in the past weeks. “I would love that.” 

You returned it brightly and pressed a kiss to his lips. And with that, everything was back to normal. When you came home from work, you ate dinner together. He took you out on a date again, to spend some quality time after a busy period for him at work and you fell back into the rhythm that had always felt familiar to your relationship. 

From the way he carried himself, you could tell that the burdens on Yunmin’s shoulders had lifted and he was back to his sweet and gentle self. 

He’d gotten uneasy when you announced that Jay would take you into town for a present for Sunoo. His eyes flicked from you to Jay when he stood on your doorstep, his hands resting into his pockets. 

You pressed a kiss to Yunmin’s lips. “We’ll be heading for lunch, too.” 

He offered you a small smile. “I need to go home anyway, so.” He bid you a soft goodbye and brushed past Jay to his own car. 

You studied him, the way he rummaged with the keys and nearly dropped them on the concrete. He slid it into the driver’s seat and drove away within a matter of seconds. He didn’t wave an extra time like usual, as if he was suddenly in a hurry. 

Jay’s eyes flicked to you and he slowly motioned his head towards his own car. “Shall we go?” 

“Yeah.” You hummed and clutched your bag. “We’ll go.” 

Most of the car ride, the sight of  Yunmin replayed in your head. Was something not going well all of a sudden, after the weeks you spent in such… peace. Was it perhaps a mask that your boyfriend wore, just so you wouldn’t suspect a thing? 

Watching the landscape passing by, you wondered if Sunghoon was right after all. 

You turned to Jay, whose eyes were on the road. “I was thinking of getting Sunoo that skin care stuff he’s been talking about.” 

“I was thinking the same. Sunoo’s tried to get it for ages now. It’s always sold out, everywhere.”

“Online, that is.” 

“Have you read my diary, perhaps?” He responded, to which you chuckled. A smile tugged at his lips. “We’ll see what the city has to offer.” 

Jay parked the car and you compiled a list of all the stores that could have the present you were hunting for. He checked his phone before sliding it into his pocket, opting for the store nearest to the garage you parked at. 

As you browsed through the aisles, the scent of amber and sandalwood lingered behind you with every step. You looked back and saw Jay scanning the rows up and down. His eyes flicked to you and he smiled. 

After browsing the store for what felt like ages and Jay asking an employee for the product, you could safely conclude that they didn’t have it in stock anymore. The second and third store delivered you the exact same results. 

And so did the fourth. 

You strolled through the city, dragging along the hope that sunk to your shoes like a ball and chain. Your stomach rumbled and your feet felt sore. “Maybe we should look for something else for Sunoo,” you suggested. “We’re not going to find it here.”  

“I’m not leaving the city without that present,” Jay declared. “There’s one store I want to check out.” When he told you the name, you arched an eyebrow. He nodded determinedly. “There’s a chance they have it in stock there.” 

“And you’re sure because…” 

“Nobody seems to know they sell it as well.” 

You stared at him. 

Jay motioned his head. “Come on, I promise it’s worth a try. And otherwise, we will look for something else.” 

You entered the store, smaller than the ones you’d been to before. At the counter was an older woman, greeting you cheerfully when you walked in. 

You looked around. It didn’t seem like the typical store, but it held a variety of make up, skincare products, hair products and body wash. You were kind of surprised that you hadn’t noticed it before. 

Jay trailed after you as you browsed through the aisles. He nearly bumped into you when you  stopped in front of the skincare and grabbed your shoulders to stabilise himself. 

Your eyes scanned the row. Mists, creams, serums, they had everything, but not what you were looking for. You looked down at the bottom row and your eyes landed on a pastel yellow package. You kneeled down and observed it. 

Never in your twenty plus years of life had you ever grabbed something so fast. You shot up with the bundle in hand. “Oh, my God.” 

Jay’s smile reached his eyes when he scanned the content. “This is it.” 

You slapped his arm excitedly. “You absolute genius!” 

“No need to remind me.” His smile turned into a grin and he brushed past you. “I need to be on the other side for some stuff for dad, if that’s alright.” 

“Of course!” You smiled. “I’ll take a look around myself.” 

Jay nodded and disappeared between the aisles. 

You browsed the rest of the store and took a mental note to return here with your mother. For yourself, you took some new blush and lip colours with you and met up with Jay, who was at the counter. 

He took the products from your hand and placed them with the rest. 

“Jay–” 

“It’s fine,” he assured you and whipped his card out. 

“Now I understand why nobody wanted to join you,” you teased and slid the products in your bag. “You just randomly pay for everyone’s stuff.” 

“I can miss it.” 

You smiled and rubbed his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“I’ll pay for lunch, too.” Jay whisked you out of the door with a smile and led you to a lunchroom. He was immediately recognised when he stepped through the doors, brought to a table like he was royalty. 

You tilted your head. 

“I eat here with my family a lot,” he clarified. “One of my favourite spots in town.” 

He certainly knew the city better than you did.

You took your usual coffee order with the dishes that Jay recommended to you and leaned back in your seat, your hands wrapped around the cup. 

You and Jay spoke at the same time, both halting in your tracks with a chuckle. 

“You go first,” Jay opted, to which you nodded. 

“I just really need to talk about Yunmin’s behaviour,” you admitted. “I have a feeling he might be a bit jealous, or wary around you and I can’t seem to figure out why.” You looked out of the window and sighed. “Maybe I’m reading into it too much, but the way he acted this morning when I told him about my plans with you… He was so… weird.” 

Your eyes flicked back to your friend. “Every time I try to address it, he brushes it off, but then he starts acting like this and I…” You ran a hand through your hair with a sigh. “I don’t know. I can’t seem to make sense of it, because there’s nothing to be jealous of if you ask me.”

Jay stirred the content of his cup. “To be honest, I wanted to talk about it, too.” 

You tilted your head. 

“I carefully wanted to suggest if something had seemed odd to you, but you noticed yourself already.” 

You nodded and put your cup back down. “We’re doing well, so I’m a bit surprised about this. I don’t know where it’s coming from and if it even has something to do with you or that he just needs a scapegoat and he doesn’t like you to begin with–”

“Yeah, no. Thank you for the reassurance,” Jay teased, to which you laughed softly. “But I get what you’re saying. And to be frank with you, I don’t know, either.” 

With a smile, you nodded at him. “Thank you for hearing me out, even though you don’t have an answer for it, either.”

Jay smiled at you. “That’s what friends are for.” 

When you came back, Yunmin was fine. The subject hadn’t seemed to be a problem at all. When Jay dropped you off, the two had even talked a bit. You were happy that they were getting along again and with that feeling, you entered the pub for Sunoo’s birthday. 

Sunoo himself was already there with Sunghoon next to him, chatting over a glass of beer. When he noticed the two of you, he lit up. 

You hugged him tightly and slid into the seat next to him, Yunmin on your other side. His hand slid to your thigh and he rubbed it with his thumb, to which you smiled. 

After your first glass of wine, Jay and Jungwon joined your table. You locked eyes and offered him a nod. 

Jay put the box in front of Sunoo with a smile. “On behalf of all of us.” 

He eyed it curiously and started ripping the paper. His mouth fell open when the present sat in front of him. “Oh! I’ve been eying this skin care bundle for ages! Thank you so much!” 

You glanced at Jay, who looked back at you. The two of you exchanged a smile. 

Yunmin squeezed your thigh and your smile faded, your eyes darting back to Sunoo. “You’re welcome, love. It was a nuisance to find, though.” 

“I know! I’ve been trying for months!” His smile reached his eyes as he clutched the package to his chest. “Oh, this is perfect.” 

You rubbed his arm with a warm smile before you turned to the rest of your friends. “He’ll be unavailable for the rest of the night.”

“Worth it for this reaction,” Jay commented and sat in the seat across from you, shooting you a smile. “I told you that the store was worth a shot.”

“You’ve been telling me that for the past two weeks, actually.”

He grinned and leaned back in his seat. “I just had to mention it in front of the rest.”

Yunmin’s grip tightened under the table. You pushed your leg outwards, but his hand remained. When you looked at him, his eyes had clouded over. 

You ignored it and fell into conversation with your friends. Everyone was doing a round of catching up on work and office gossip. In Sunghoon’s case, he spent at least an hour updating you on the drama of his colleague hooking up with their manager. In the meantime, you’d downed two glasses of wine and munched on a bowl of nachos with Yunmin. 

Every sip you took, the story got worse. 

Jungwon had his mouth covered the entire time, only drinking his beer when it got too bad. His eyes darted to Jay, who watched him in amusement, and then back to Sunghoon. “You can’t expect no one to catch on, can you?”

“If I were to believe my supervisor, they are thoroughly convinced that no one knows,” Sunghoon answered. He ran his hand through his hair. “I’ve never had so much drama at work.” 

“And obviously, you’re enjoying it,” you remarked with a grin. 

“Won’t deny nor confirm.” He turned to your boyfriend. “What about you?”

Yunmin shrugged. “I don’t see what’s interesting about investments.” 

The table fell silent. So eerily silent that it made your toes curl. Your eyes were reserved for the glass of wine in front of you as the pit formed in your stomach. 

His hand found your thigh again, but you pushed it away. 

“Anyway,” you cut in, “you’re all welcome at the barbecue next month. Mum will love to see you all again.” 

“It’s been too long!” Jungwon cried out. His eyes lit up. “Oh! I can ask mum if we can make those corn dogs again. We can all chime in, if that’s okay with everyone?” 

You looked around to bobbing heads, finally looking at Jay. 

“I guess we’re making the corndogs, then,” he concluded. 

You smiled at him. “As long as you’re making that sauce again.”

“Because you asked so nicely.” 

Yunmin pushed his chair backwards harshly. “I need to use the restroom.” He walked away, balling his fists tightly next to his body. 

“Well,” Sunoo clicked his tongue, “I guess he’s not feeling too well.” 

You turned back to your drink and crinkled your nose. “Right.” The pressure formed in your chest as you waited for Yunmin’s return. In the background, your friends agreed on Jungwon’s proposal and were deciding what they would all take with them. Jay and Jungwon easily settled on the corndogs. 

That was about all you heard before Yunmin’s presence drowned them out. 

He sat back down and his hand was on the back of your chair. “So, the barbecue.” 

You turned your head and nodded. “Originally, it was us two and mum, but she suggested we invite over my friends.” You took your glass and leaned back in your chair. “We tried making it a tradition years ago, but to no avail.”

Sunoo pointed at Sunghoon. “He wanted to study three hours away so desperately.” 

“Mum still hasn’t forgiven you for it,” you butted in. “You need the best dish you can come up with at that barbecue.” 

Sunghoon clutched his chest with a nod. “I won’t let her down.”

Jay patted his shoulder. “As long as you don’t make those sticky noodles again.” 

The rest of you agreed, to which Sunghoon scoffed. 

“I liked them.” 

“Makes one of us.” 

“So everyone’s coming?” Yunmin asked, to which your friends nodded. He nodded with a chuckle. “Fun. Looking forward to it.” 

Your eyes darted around the table before landing on your boyfriend, studying him carefully. His jaw clenched and his lips were pressed in a thin line. His neck twitched lightly. 

“Yunmin?”

“No, I’m serious.” He turned to you. “It’s going to be so much fun, right? You, me, all of your friends.” 

You arched an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“You know,” he pressed a finger to his chin and pretended to think, “I think I am. I’m having a great time fading into the background and being forgotten by my girlfriend.”

Your heart dropped to your shoes. The anger started building behind your ribcage, but you took a deep breath. “Yunmin, we’re not going to do this right now. Let’s talk about this when we’re alone.”

“Why? So you can tell your friends what an asshole I am for embarrassing you?” Yunmin arched an eyebrow in challenge. “I mean, you pretend I’m not even here anyway so go ahead.” 

“Okay, well, if you want to do this.” You shrugged and put your glass down. “You’ve been squeezing my leg to death every time Jay opens his mouth, so as long as you keep doing that, I’m not even going to bother.”

He opened his mouth, but you halted him. 

“We’re going to talk about this tomorrow,” you told him calmly. “I don’t want to spoil this night for Sunoo. We’re here to celebrate him.” 

“Oh, great, putting your friends above me once again!” Yunmin raised his voice. “When are you ever going to think of me?! Am I not important to you, or do I embarrass you?!” 

You smiled and got up. “We’ll go outside, alright? No need to do this in the middle of a pub.” 

“No!” He shot up from his seat. The chair would’ve clattered to the floor if Jungwon wasn’t in time to catch it. “You always push these issues aside! I want to settle this now!” 

“I’ll make it easy for you, then,” you said and turned to him. “You’re going home now, and tomorrow morning, you’ll retrieve your stuff from my place and bring me mine. This is over.” 

Yunmin’s face fell. 

“We’ll talk about the rest tomorrow.” You sat back down and finished your glass of wine. Behind you, the door slammed shut and for a while, the entire table was silent. You glanced around, but nobody made direct eye contact with you. They either pretended their drink was the most peculiar thing they’d ever seen or they looked around the pub as if they hadn’t been there a million times before. 

Sunghoon clicked this tongue. “Well, my office gossip is nothing compared to that.” 

You turned to Sunoo. “Are you alright? I didn’t mean to…” You paused when he smiled. “What?”

He leaned in. “Do it again.”

You deadpanned him, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” 

“Are you alright, though?” 

You and the rest of your friends turned to Jay. With a small smile, you nodded. “Yeah, I am actually. He lost my immediate respect when he started going off on all of you like this, but I’m still sorry that it happened. It was not how I wanted this night to go.” 

“Are you kidding?” Sunoo wrapped an arm around you. “You’re free from the clutches of an insecure pile of shit.” 

“What Sunoo means is,” Jay cut in, “you shouldn’t have to put up with that behaviour. He needs to work on himself first before he’s worthy of someone again.” 

Jungwon patted his back with a nod. “Very subtle.” 

You leaned on your hands with a smile. “I guess it says something that I’m not more upset about it. In fact, I feel a bit relieved.” 

Your friends raised their glasses, until they realised yours was empty. 

“A bottle, please,” Jungwon told the waiter with a grin, but Jay whacked his arm. 

“Just a glass,” he corrected his stepbrother. 

You turned to the waiter with a nod. “A glass is more than enough.”

That night, you’d felt more free than you had in the last couple of weeks. 

Your mother seemed more excited than you were. 

She’d been preparing for the entire day, asking when your friends would come over on four separate occasions. She asked if they were fine with beer and soda or if she should go out and get more and you had to stop her from actually doing so. 

As you were in the garden getting the barbecue going, she’d been in the kitchen with Sunghoon to prepare everything. He’d suggested coming over earlier under the guise of extra help, but you weren’t easily fooled. He wanted an opportunity to catch up with your mother. 

The topic of Yunmin had come up when you were outside with the three of you. The morning after you dumped him, he’d come over. He cried and begged to reconsider, but you’d given him his box of stuff and sent him right out of the door. 

Your mother had witnessed the scene and you spent the rest of the afternoon sipping tea and eating homemade cookies. If anything, she’d seemed glad that he was out. In fact, she had her mind set on someone else already. 

You would wait and see where it would take you. 

“When are you going to get a nice one?” Your mother asked Sunghoon, who halted in his tracks. She smiled. “You deserve some love, don’t you think?”

“You sound like my mother,” he responded and put his glass down. 

“I kind of am.” 

The garage door opened and closed and you shot up from your seat. You hurried over, where Jay, Jungwon and Sunoo were already gathered. “Please, go inside with me. Mum is asking Sunghoon about his love life.” 

Sunoo turned on his heel towards the kitchen door and you followed him. “I want to see how this turns out, though.” 

Jungwon agreed and the two gathered in front of the screen that separated the kitchen from the terrace. 

You looked over your shoulder at Jay, who held the tray of corndogs in his hand. “You’ll succumb to it as well, I fear. She needs all the updates.” 

“I’m prepared for a mother’s interrogation.” 

You chuckled and took the tray from him. A buzz of electricity shot through you when your fingers brushed together. It sparked a flame that started in your stomach before spreading through your entire body. 

You looked away with flushed cheeks and marched back into the garden, to the dismay of your friends. They followed you nonetheless and after greeting your mother thoroughly, they all sat down. 

You tended to the barbecue and grilled the meat, the chatter as your background noise. 

The scent of amber and sandalwood lingered behind you, followed by the deep, warm tones of Jay’s voice. 

“You seemed in need of some company.” 

You looked back with a chuckle. “Flattered.” 

Jay bowed his head and stood next to you. His eyes followed your movements closely, making your heart want to claw out of your chest. When you locked eyes, the world around you seemed to stop. 

He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’m glad Yunmin’s gone.” 

You looked up at him and hated how the challenging look in his eyes made your head spin. “How so?”

“Couldn’t be more insecure if he tried,” he continued. His lips twisted into a grin. 

“You never liked him, didn’t you?”

“Nope.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the heat spread through your cheeks. You knew how jealous Jay was. You didn't think that you could be the reason. And never would you admit how much you liked it. 

🏷️: @livmarauder ; @yandere-stories ; @huiimoon

[vievechambre]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ The Heiress in the Apron .✦ ݁˖

❀ ᯓ perfectionist photographer!jay x undercover heiress!reader

the premise ✧ after refusing an arranged marriage and getting entirely cut off from your family's fortune, you agree to a highly questionable scheme orchestrated by your two idiot best friends. your mission? go undercover as a live-in maid for the obscenely wealthy, perfectionist photographer, park jongseong. what could possibly go wrong?

contains ✧ romcom, forced proximity, boss/employee dynamic, secret identity, enemies to lovers (mostly just bickering), chaotic best friends (jake & sunghoon), domestic fluff, close proximity, butterfly feelings, rich boy / suddenly broke girl, slow burn, minor angst, a lot of cleaning disasters, 100% pure chaos.

wc 𖹭 2.6k ⤷ ゛prologue ˎˊ˗ ⤷ ꒰chapter 1꒱

BAM!

You shove the heavy mahogany doors open, the wood shuddering violently against the frame. Your father sits perfectly composed behind his sprawling desk, his flat, unbothered gaze a stark contrast to your erratic breathing and flushed face.

"Dad! I told you, I am not doing this arranged marriage!" You hurl your designer tote bag onto the velvet sofa, completely abandoning your usual elegance.

The owner of the L'Amoure Suites empire merely chuckles. "My dear, there is no harm in simply meeting him. Isn't that the sensible thing to do?"

You rub your throbbing temples, a long, heavy sigh escaping your lips. "I have the right to dictate my own life. I'm the one who decides who I spend the rest of my days with."

Your voice shakes, the frustration bubbling over. To the outside world, being the sole heiress to Seoul's most prestigious five-star hotel sounds like an absolute dream. But to you, the name L'Amoure Suites is nothing but a gilded cage that suffocates your freedom.

Your father nods slowly, as if he finally understands your plight. "Very well. If that is truly what you want."

You freeze. You didn't expect his defenses to crumble so easily. But the fleeting spark of victory dies the second he continues.

"On one condition. You have three months to prove to me that you can survive entirely on your own."

"DAD!" You groan, your hands balling into fists at your sides.

"You will support yourself and find your own income without a single cent of my help. Ah, right..." He picks up his phone with a terrifyingly calm demeanor. "Hello? Block all of my daughter's debit and credit cards immediately. Yes, right this second."

Your jaw drops. You stand paralyzed, staring at him in sheer disbelief. The oxygen in the room thins as the reality of his words sinks in. He's serious.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? To dictate your own life?" He offers a warm smile—one that feels utterly suffocating.

"Fine. I'll show you I can!" You scoff sharply. Snatching your bag, you spin on your heel and march out of the room with your head held high, desperate to escape before your pride shatters in front of him.

The air in the glass-walled boardroom is stifling. A heavy folder containing the latest quarterly report hits the marble table, sliding roughly to a halt right in front of Jake and Sunghoon.

"This is entirely underwhelming," Mr. Lim's deep voice slices through the silence. The majority shareholder crosses his arms, glaring at the two young founders. "Luxury lifestyle management, organic meal prep, personal assistants... it's all stale. Any competitor could copy this by tomorrow morning."

Sunghoon holds his breath, fighting to keep his professional smile intact. "But Mr. Lim, our client retention rate is incredibly solid. Corporate executives—"

"Corporate is tapped out!" Mr. Lim snaps, instantly killing Sunghoon's argument. "You call yourselves innovators, yet you're swimming in the same stagnant pond. I want a breakthrough. I want you to merge our lifestyle management services with our clinical restoration facilities."

Jake leans forward, lacing his fingers together over the table with a forced calm. "You mean... bringing our entire recovery clinic and spa amenities directly to the clients' private residences?"

"Exactly," Mr. Lim replies coldly. "A Restorative Lifestyle Concierge. The target isn't executives who just need a schedule and a salad. It's the creative elite. Celebrities, artists, eccentric musicians. People with endless money who live in a state of creative chaos that destroys their bodies. Bring total recovery into their homes without them ever having to step outside."

Jake and Sunghoon exchange a silent, heavy look. It's a monumental undertaking.

"The issue is," Sunghoon starts, his tone much more cautious now, "that demographic is notoriously private. We need incredibly intimate data to design proper, at-home recovery protocols. How their bodies react to writer's block, what triggers their 3 AM stress spikes—we can't get that data from standard clinic interviews."

"Figuring that out is your job," Mr. Lim interrupts, standing up and smoothing his expensive suit with an intimidatingly slow gesture. "I am giving you one month. Find the perfect subject, conduct deep-dive research in their natural environment, and bring me a working prototype of the program. If you fail, your Series-B funding is pulled entirely."

Mr. Lim's leather shoes echo against the floor before the boardroom doors click shut, leaving Jake and Sunghoon in a deafening silence.

Jake drags a hand down his face, exhaling a frustrated breath. "One month?! Where on earth are we going to find a workaholic artist willing to open their doors and let us use them as a clinical lab rat in thirty days?"

Sunghoon leans back in his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. The silence hangs heavy for a moment before the corner of his mouth slowly tilts up into a faint smirk.

"Wait a minute," Sunghoon murmurs. He sits up straight, his eyes gleaming as he looks at Jake. "Don't we have a friend who fits that criteria perfectly?"

Jake knits his brows. "Who? Don't tell me you mean..."

"Park Jongseong," Sunghoon says quickly. "The heir who threw away his identity to travel the world with a camera."

Jake scoffs, half-disbelieving. "Jay? Are you insane? He hates it when we visit unannounced. Besides, didn't he just get back from—"

"Exactly," Sunghoon cuts in, his smirk widening. "He just wrapped up his travels and is settling down in Seoul to prepare for his debut solo exhibition. You know how disastrous his lifestyle gets when he's obsessing over his photography."

Jake falls silent, the logic clicking into place. "Jay is the perfect subject, but how do we smuggle our research protocols and clinical instruments into his apartment without him realizing?"

"A very fortunate coincidence, Jake." Sunghoon's eyes narrow cunningly. "I heard our perfectionist friend is currently incredibly desperate for a new live-in housekeeper. We just need someone we can trust on the inside."

You shove your clothes and essentials into a massive suitcase, your movements frantic. Dropping to your knees, you pop open the steel safe hidden in the corner of your room—the place where you secretly stash cash, far away from the limitless credit cards your father provides.

The stacks of bills look decently thick. But you bite your lower lip, staring anxiously at the money. Eighty-six million won. You desperately wonder if it will be enough to keep you afloat for the next three months while you figure out how to make a living. To anyone else, it's a fantastic sum. To an heiress who has never looked at a price tag in her life, it's terrifyingly finite.

"Rent for a decent apartment, food, not to mention other necessities... Ugh," you groan, rubbing your face in exasperation.

Refusing to drown in despair, you grab your phone and press dial on Sunghoon's contact.

He picks up on the second ring. "Oh, hey! What's up?"

"Hoon, do you know any safe, comfortable places for rent?" you ask in a rush, completely skipping the pleasantries.

Before Sunghoon can even process the sudden question, you realize there's no way you can explain this mess over the phone. Your head is spinning too fast.

"Never mind, forget I asked," you quickly correct yourself. "Let's just meet at our usual bar. Right now."

Without waiting for him to agree, you hang up. You zip your suitcase shut with one harsh tug, take a deep breath, and prepare to step out of the golden cage.

"A HOUSEKEEPER?! ARE YOU TWO OUT OF YOUR MINDS?!"

Your suppressed shriek pierces the air, loud enough to make the bartender and a few nearby patrons jump and turn toward your table.

Jake and Sunghoon nod in unison, looking equally apologetic and desperate. Jake even clasps his hands together in a pleading gesture.

"Please. We really need your help with this."

"You guys know me! We graduated from the same university, you know what my brain is capable of! And now you want me to hold a broom and a mop? To be a maid?" You let out a cynical laugh, utterly bewildered by the absurd proposal they just pitched. "You have to be joking."

"Jay has smart appliances! They practically do the work for you!" Jake squeaks, his puppy-dog eyes working in overdrive.

"Think about it," Sunghoon chimes in smoothly, ignoring your murderous glare. "Jay is filthy rich, which means his penthouse is a fortress of luxury. You get free housing. And on top of that, double income. Jay pays you to clean, and we pay you for the data. If this Restorative Lifestyle Concierge project succeeds, I will personally hand you company shares."

You freeze. The words 'shares' and 'double income' echo in your brain. Your pride as an heiress is throwing a massive tantrum, but your bank account is holding up a white flag. Free rent means your secret stash of eighty-six million won won't vanish in a month.

Slowly, you look down at Sunghoon’s phone on the table. Jay’s profile picture stares back at you—sharp jawline, piercing eyes, looking like a man who would absolutely notice a speck of dust on his ceiling.

"Fine," you finally say, your voice sounding like you are signing away your soul to the devil.

"OH MY GOD, YES!" Jake launches himself out of his seat, arms wide open to hug you.

"Nope, you better sit down." You snap.

Jake instantly drops back onto the sofa, placing his hands obediently on his lap like a scolded kindergartener.

"I have conditions," you say, slamming your hand on the table, making both of them flinch. "First. Your phones are off silent mode. Twenty-four-seven. If I text you at 3 AM because of this Park Jongseong is demanding hand-squeezed organic almond milk, you two are driving over to squeeze those almonds yourselves."

"Noted. Almonds. Got it," Jake whispers nervously, nodding entirely too fast.

"Second," you continue, leaning in with deadly seriousness. "We need emergency extraction codes. If I text 'Mayday', you pull up to the lobby of that hellhole in a getaway car within ten minutes, no questions asked. If I text 'Code Red', it means I accidentally broke one of his obscenely expensive cameras, and I need you two to show up in ski masks, tie me to a chair, and make it look like a coordinated art heist so I don't take the blame."

Sunghoon rubs his temples, letting out a heavy sigh while desperately fighting a smile. "Staging a home invasion is a bit out of our startup budget right now."

"THEN DON'T MAKE ME A MAID!" you hiss.

"Okay, okay! Getaway car, ski masks, we will figure it out!" Jake interrupts frantically, completely terrified of you backing out.

"And lastly," you point a threatening finger directly at Sunghoon. "If I die from exhaustion while scrubbing that man's marble floors, you are paying for my funeral. And my tombstone better say: Tragically Betrayed by Two Corporate Idiots."

Sunghoon finally cracks. He bursts into a laugh, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Deal. We'll even buy you the premium coffin."

"Premium! With a silk lining! I promise!" Jake adds helpfully.

You let out a long, suffering groan, burying your face in your hands. You came here to escape a golden cage, and now you've just willingly agreed to be a maid in a designer hellhole.

You step into the grand lobby of Aetherium Seoul. This isn’t just an ordinary apartment building, it’s a hyper-exclusive fortress for the elite, where privacy is razor-sharp and maximum security is an absolute requirement.

Out of pure habit from a lifetime of VIP treatment, you stroll toward the elevators like you own the place. Instantly, a sharp-suited security guard blocks your path with a polite but firm arm. You barely stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

You forgot that today, you aren't the princess of L'Amoure Suites. For your "undercover maid" persona, you purposely dressed down—just a plain white t-shirt and matching trousers. Of course, they are logo-less designer pieces worth a small car, but without your usual diamond jewelry, you apparently look like a security threat.

"Excuse me, Miss. Do you have an appointment?" the guard asks, eyeing you suspiciously.

Damn it. Your tongue practically itches to scream your father’s name so you don't have to deal with this peasant-level interrogation. "Uh... I—"

Ding!

The chime of the elevator cuts you off. The glass-paneled steel doors slide open, and out walks the exact man from Sunghoon’s phone last night.

His outfit is infuriatingly casual. Just a black muscle tank that highlights his broad shoulders and matching sweatpants. Yet, there is something about his piercing gaze and the way he carries himself that instantly dominates the entire lobby.

"Mr. Park, good morning," the guard’s posture snaps to rigid attention as he bows a deep ninety degrees.

Jay doesn't even acknowledge the greeting. He walks straight toward you, pulling one earbud out. His dark eyes lock onto yours, sharp and calculating.

"Are you the new assistant?" he asks bluntly.

You blink, looking between him and the guard. Your brain short-circuits for a second before you violently swallow your pride.

"Oh... Uh, yes. I'm the new hire," you reply. Awkwardly, and with a great deal of internal suffering, you force yourself to bow thirty degrees, a submissive gesture you have probably never done to a stranger in your entire life.

Jay scans you from head to toe, his expression unreadable, before glancing at the guard. "She's with me."

The guard immediately steps back, clearing the path for you to follow your new boss.

The elevator doors glide shut, trapping you in a confined space completely dominated by the cold, expensive, masculine scent of his cologne.

You watch as Jay steps up to the control panel. He doesn't press a number. Instead, he taps a sleek black keycard against the sensor, and a single button at the very top lights up in blue. It’s marked with a gold ‘PH’.

Your eyes widen. You hold your breath, staring at the glowing button in sheer disbelief.

A Penthouse?

As a hotel heiress, you know exactly what that symbol means. In a building like Aetherium Seoul, the penthouse isn't just an apartment. It's a throne. The price of this single unit could likely buy an entire luxury neighborhood anywhere else.

The elevator shoots upward, but time feels like it’s moving in slow motion. You grip the strap of your bag until your knuckles turn white, staring at Jay’s broad back. You knew he was rich, but you didn't expect the guy standing in front of you in a sweaty gym tank to be the absolute ruler of the Aetherium.

You have a very, very bad feeling about this.

The doors open, and you nearly lose your balance at the sheer scale of the place. It’s a sprawling, impossibly massive penthouse with five-meter-high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling glass walls offering a breathtaking, panoramic view of the Han River.

But contrasting the magnificent, cold architecture is the absolute disaster inside.

Half of the living room has been hijacked into a makeshift photography studio. Lighting cables snake dangerously across the black marble floors, tripods are scattered everywhere, and stacks of freshly printed photos clutter what should be a pristine dining table. The air smells heavily of dark roast coffee and film-developing chemicals, a clear sign that the owner pulled a chaotic all-nighter.

You stand frozen in the entryway, utterly appalled. Jay, who is already walking inside, stops and looks back at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Planning to be a statue over there?" he deadpans.

"Oh?!" You snap out of your daze. "S-Sorry, Sir." You quickly bow your head, trying to hide the sheer horror in your eyes.

That's when Jay catches a detail he missed in the lobby. He looks down at the massive suitcase you're dragging. The shape, the metallic sheen... it’s incredibly familiar. It’s the exact same limited-edition RIMOWA model he owns. A suitcase that costs roughly the same as a housekeeper’s annual salary.

The corner of his mouth twitches upward into an amused, slightly mocking smirk. "You worked for Sunghoon, right? Your luggage is a bit luxurious for a maid."

You inhale sharply, coughing loudly to cover your sudden panic.

"Y-Yes! I served Young Master Sunghoon previously!" you lie, pitching your voice to sound as innocent as possible. "It's a hand-me-down!"

Young Master Sunghoon? I'm going to vomit, you curse internally, mourning the absolute death of your dignity.

Jay nods slowly, the logic clicking into place. Knowing Sunghoon's habit of tossing out perfectly good designer items, he assumes his friend simply gave it to the staff.

What Jay doesn't know is the hilarious irony: to an heiress like you, that RIMOWA was the absolute cheapest, most 'basic' bag you could find in the depths of your walk-in closet. You brought it thinking it made you look poor, completely oblivious to the fact that your standard of 'poor' is still terrifyingly wealthy.

Without pressing further, Jay turns and points to a solid wooden door off the hallway. "You can put your things in there. Your job is simple. Keep the place clean. The dust is starting to ruin my focus when I work."

Before you can even nod, the man turns his back and walks straight to his computer monitors, completely ignoring your existence.

Time blurs, and your energy drains at a terrifying speed. Technically, you are just wiping down surfaces and picking up trash. But what kind of absolute lunatic hires one person to clean an entire penthouse?!

By the time you finish the living room, your arms feel like they are made of lead. You drag yourself over to the kitchen area, holding a microfiber cloth like a white flag of surrender. Jay is still at his desk, now wearing a casual polo shirt, hyper-focused on his screen.

"Leave the rest for tomorrow," Jay says without even looking away from his monitor, hearing your heavy footsteps.

You let out a quiet, desperate sigh of relief. "Yes, Sir."

Your stomach suddenly growls, a loud, embarrassing sound. Exhausted and starving, you open his massive double-door refrigerator, expecting to find premium imported cheeses, wagyu, or at least some truffles.

Instead, your eyes narrow in disgust.

It’s a graveyard of sadness. Vacuum-sealed chicken breasts, a carton of eggs, and some extremely depressing green vegetables.

Does this man hate joy? Is this all he eats? you mutter under your breath.

Since moving back into your father's estate after college, you haven't touched a spatula. The closest you’ve ever gotten to "cooking" in the last three years is telling the executive chef what you want for dinner. But desperation makes people do stupid things.

How hard can it be? you think, grabbing a rock-hard, half-frozen chicken breast. It's just poultry. I have a Master's degree.

Ten minutes later, you realize a Master's degree cannot save you from the laws of thermodynamics.

You had dumped an ungodly amount of olive oil into a searing hot pan, and then, with zero hesitation, dropped the wet, icy chicken straight into it.

POP! HISSS! BAM!

The oil explodes like a string of angry firecrackers.

"AH!" You shriek, dropping the spatula as hot oil splatters violently in every direction.

Total panic sets in. Smoke immediately begins to billow toward the ceiling. You desperately grab a large wooden cutting board, holding it up in front of your face like a literal riot shield. You try to reach for the stove dial, but another POP of oil makes you jump back, letting out a very un-heiress-like yelp.

"Die, you stupid bird! Just cook!" you hiss from behind your cutting board, waving a kitchen towel blindly at the smoke.

You are so focused on surviving the culinary warzone that you don't hear the footsteps behind you.

Suddenly, a large, warm hand grabs your wrist mid-air.

You freeze.

You don't even have time to gasp before a solid chest presses lightly against your back. A wave of a cold, expensive, minty-wood cologne instantly envelops you, completely drowning out the smell of burning chicken.

Jay is standing right behind you. Right behind you.

He reaches his other arm past you, his side brushing against yours, and easily flicks the stove dial off. The hissing immediately dies down.

The kitchen falls dead silent, except for the sound of your own heart hammering against your ribs. You literally hold your breath, too scared to move. He is so close you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

Slowly, Jay takes the cutting board out of your trembling hands and sets it down. Then, his hand slides down your arm to gently pry the kitchen towel from your grip. His fingers intentionally graze against your palm—a fleeting, electrifying touch that sends a massive swarm of butterflies straight to your stomach.

He steps around you, leaning his hip against the counter, completely trapping you between his tall frame and the kitchen island.

Jay looks down at the blackened, smoking lump of carbon in the pan, and then slowly lifts his dark, piercing gaze to meet your wide eyes. His face is incredibly close. You can see the faint shadow of exhaustion under his eyes and the sharp, dangerous angle of his jawline.

For a terrifying second, you think you're fired. You think he's going to yell.

Instead, the corner of his lips twitches. A low, raspy chuckle vibrates in his chest.

"Were you hired to clean my house," Jay murmurs, his deep voice dropping an octave, "or to assassinate me via arson?"

You open your mouth, but your brain has completely short-circuited. "I... the chicken was aggressive."

Jay stares at you for a long moment, his eyes darkening with an unreadable amusement. He doesn't step back. Instead, he reaches up and slowly starts rolling up the sleeves of his polo shirt, exposing the thick veins running down his toned forearms.

"Sit down," he orders softly, his gaze never leaving your face. "Before you burn yourself."

You blink, completely paralyzed by the sudden shift in tension. "What?"

Jay leans in just a fraction of an inch closer, a devastating smirk finally breaking through his stoic expression.

"Go sit on the stool," he whispers, his voice smooth and commanding, nodding toward the marble counter. "I'll cook for you."

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა 🎀 ₊˚⊹♡ a/n: hiiii everyone! peekaboo! 🤭 just a little heads up, this is only the prologue! it's literally day one and you're already fighting a chicken with a cutting board...😭 brace yourselves for your messy maid era and Jay's sudden lethal attacks on your heart! 🦋✨please let me know in the comments or replies if you want to be added to the taglist for the next update! see uuu! (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡

[vievechambre]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ Safe Haven

ৎ basketball player!jay x oblivious!reader

⟡ the premise . . . after spending years acting as your personal therapist and watching you cry over guys who don't deserve you, your childhood best friend finally reaches his breaking point during a joint-family vacation. his new goal? to prove that the person who loves you the most has been right beside you all along.

⟡ contains . . . childhood friends to lovers, neighbor au, tsundere jay, jealousy, slow burn, angst(?), protective best friend, comfort, purely a work of fiction

wc 𖹭 2.1k . . . oneshot

"JAAAAAAAAY!" Your voice echoed through the near-empty gymnasium as you sprinted toward the indoor basketball court, making a beeline for Jay, who was busy shoving his gear into his duffel bag.

He briefly glanced up at you, his movements barely faltering as he tossed his water bottle inside and zipped the bag shut.

"What is it this time?" he asked, his tone laced with that familiar, fond exasperation. He slung the heavy strap over his broad shoulder, falling into step beside you as the two of you headed out of the gym and into the golden, fading light of the late afternoon sun.

You let out a giddy, breathy laugh, clearly failing to hide the secret bubbling up inside you.

Jay raised a single eyebrow, casting a sideways glance at you. "Judging by that ridiculous look on your face, I'm guessing you're over the moon about something?"

"Hehe..." You nodded eagerly. "I'm going on a date. With Sungchan sunbae."

Jay’s footsteps faltered. He stopped dead in his tracks, his head snapping toward you.

"A date? With Sungchan sunbae? You mean Jung Sungchan from the futsal team?" His brows knitted together in a sudden, deep frown.

You nodded again, a blindingly bright smile plastered across your face. But instead of matching your excitement, Jay stubbornly tore his gaze away. A soft, bitter scoff escaped his lips before he gave a single, stiff nod.

"Oh, come on, Jay!" You lightly nudged his ribs with your elbow, a pout pulling at your lips. "Can't you show just a little bit of enthusiasm? Support me a little?"

"Yeah, right. We'll just have to wait and see if someone ends up knocking on my front door with a tear-stained face like every other time," Jay retorted, his voice dripping with unmistakable skepticism.

"HEY! That’s a terrible thing to say!" you gasped in disbelief. You could feel the sudden heat rushing to your ears, painting them a furious shade of red. Embarrassment washed over you—partly because it was an uncalled-for low blow, and partly because Jay had always been the sole witness to your every heartbreak. Having grown up together with mothers who were practically attached at the hip, he had always been your default safe haven.

Suddenly feeling small, you dropped your gaze to your shoes and walked ahead, leaving him behind. The late afternoon wind picked up, a sudden, crisp chill whipping your hair around your face.

You heard the soft rustle of fabric behind you, but before you could turn around, a sudden, comforting warmth settled over your shoulders. With a smooth, deliberate, yet incredibly gentle motion, Jay had draped his jacket over you.

Startled, you looked up at him, instinctively gripping the lapels of the jacket. "Oh? I thought you didn't care about me?" you mumbled.

"I just don't want to deal with my mom nagging me to death if she finds out her best friend's daughter caught a cold on my watch," Jay muttered flatly. He shoved both hands deep into his pockets, staring stubbornly straight ahead as he continued to walk right by your side.

You watched his side profile as he walked. His jaw was set in a stubborn, sharp line, refusing to meet your eyes. But the setting sun caught the tips of his ears peeking through his dark hair, revealing an unmistakable, faint shade of pink.

A small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You didn't push him any further. Instead, you pulled the oversized fabric tighter around your frame, burying the lower half of your face into the collar. It smelled exactly like him—a comforting, familiar mix of clean laundry, a hint of cedarwood, and something undeniably Jay.

"Thanks, Jay," you murmured, your voice softly muffled by the thick jacket.

He still didn't look at you, but you didn't miss the subtle way his tense shoulders finally relaxed. "Just don't trip and ruin it," he grumbled. But this time, the bite in his voice was completely gone, replaced by a quiet, reluctant fondness.

As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft hues of purple and gold, the two of you walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

Saturday arrived with a flurry of restless energy. You stood in front of the mirror in your bedroom, smoothing down the skirt of your dress for the hundredth time. You had spent entirely too long getting ready, but you wanted everything to be perfect.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you grabbed your sling bag and stepped out onto your front porch.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The rhythmic bouncing of a basketball stopped the absolute second your front door clicked shut. You turned your head. Jay was leaning against the low brick wall separating your yards. He was dressed in a white, sleeveless basketball jersey that clung slightly to his chest and broad shoulders from his backyard workout, the thin fabric doing absolutely nothing to hide his athletic build.

"Whoa," Jay deadpanned. He caught the ball with one hand and casually tucked it against his hip. "Going to a gala, or did you just forget how to dress normally?"

"Shut up, Jay," you grumbled, walking down the steps. You instinctively smoothed your skirt again, feeling ridiculously overdressed next to his sweaty, effortless, and entirely too distracting state. "Is it too much? Tell me honestly."

Jay didn't answer right away. His dark eyes did a slow, sweeping assessment of you. He took in the carefully styled hair, the soft makeup, and the way the dress hugged your frame. For a fraction of a second, a muscle in his jaw feathered, the usual teasing glint in his eyes completely dimming.

"It's... fine," he finally muttered, clearing his throat and looking away. He dragged his free hand through his damp hair. "A bit of an overkill for a guy whose only talent is kicking a ball into a net, but sure."

"You’re just salty because you're spending your Saturday sweating in your front yard," you shot back, trying to ignore the sudden, frantic beating of your heart. You turned to head toward the gate. "I'm leaving."

Before you could take another step, Jay moved. He crossed the short distance between you in two long strides, deliberately planting his tall frame right in your path. You gasped, stumbling back half a step, but his hand shot out, wrapping gently but firmly around your upper arm to steady you.

The sudden heat radiating off his bare skin seared right through the thin fabric of your dress. You froze, your neck craning up to look at him. Being this close, he completely blocked out the afternoon sun. The sheer warmth of his proximity and his towering presence made the air feel incredibly thin.

"You missed a spot," he lied, his voice dropping to a low, raspy murmur that sent a violent shiver down your spine.

He didn't let go of your arm. Instead, his other hand came up. You held your breath as his rough, warm knuckles grazed the sensitive skin of your collarbone, pretending to fix the perfectly fine clasp of your necklace. He was standing so close you could feel the steady, heavy rise and fall of his chest against you.

"You're even wearing the vanilla perfume," he noted quietly, his jaw ticking. He wasn't teasing anymore. His dark eyes flickered down to your lips before slowly lifting to meet your gaze, filled with a raw, territorial frustration that he couldn't quite hide. "Try not to suffocate the poor guy before you even reach the restaurant."

BEEP BEEP!

The obnoxious blare of a car horn from the end of the street shattered the tension like a physical blow. You practically jumped out of your skin, gasping for air as if you’d been held underwater.

"T-That's him," you stammered, your face burning violently as you took a clumsy step back, desperately trying to break the invisible, suffocating tether between you.

He turned his back to walk toward his own front door, throwing one last glance over his shoulder.

"Curfew is at ten!" he called out, his voice loud and dripping with his usual grating sarcasm. "And I'm serious! If he breaks your heart, do not come crying to my window tonight! I just cleaned it!"

The next few months were a whirlwind. Your relationship with Sungchan sailed smoothly, slipping into an easy, comfortable routine. You were the girl waiting by the gates; he was the guy picking you up and dropping you off every day. And Jay? Jay was exactly where he had always been. He was the one sitting on the edge of your bed or leaning against your porch, quietly bouncing a ball or fiddling with his phone while you endlessly gushed about how sweet Sungchan was. He never complained, just listening with a tight, unreadable smile.

But you couldn't spend every waking moment with your boyfriend.

Summer arrived, and with it came the obligatory joint-family vacation. Considering your mothers were practically soulmates, you and Jay were dragged along to a bustling coastal city. Within an hour of arriving at the massive outdoor shopping district, the mothers had disappeared into a labyrinth of boutiques, leaving the two of you to fend for yourselves.

"I swear, if they make us carry another twenty shopping bags, I'm booking a flight back home," Jay complained, taking a sip of his iced americano as you both strolled down the crowded, sunlit promenade.

You laughed, lightly shoving his arm. "Oh, stop whining. It's a vacation."

You turned your head to look down the picturesque street, the sea breeze lightly blowing through your hair. And that was when you saw it.

A familiar tall silhouette. The broad shoulders, the messy hair. He was standing near a gelato stand, laughing.

Sungchan sunbae? Your heart did a happy little leap. You had no idea he was visiting the same city. A bright, genuine smile instantly broke across your face, and you instinctively raised your hand, taking a step forward to call out his name.

But the name died in your throat.

A girl stepped into the frame, handing him a cone of ice cream. Sungchan smiled at her—that exact same, blindingly sweet smile he always gave you. And then, as easily as breathing, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.

The bustling noise of the street instantly turned into a deafening ring in your ears. The ground felt like it had vanished from beneath your feet. Your raised hand fell limply to your side, your breath hitching as your chest cracked open.

"Hey, did you want to grab something to—"

Jay stopped mid-sentence. He noticed the way you froze. He saw the color drain completely from your face, your eyes wide and brimming with sudden, unshed tears.

Frowning, Jay followed your line of sight.

The plastic cup in his hand crunched dangerously under his sudden, iron grip.

"Ah... that bastard," Jay breathed out, a low, lethal sound escaping his gritted teeth.

Without a single second of hesitation, he moved. He took a wide, deliberate stride forward, planting his tall frame squarely in front of you. He used his broad shoulders to completely eclipse the devastating sight from your view.

But your mind couldn't process it. Desperate to prove your own eyes wrong, you instinctively took a clumsy step to the side, trying to look past him to see if it was really Sungchan.

Jay didn't let you.

He stepped into your path again, moving perfectly to block your line of sight. He didn't even look at the trash bin as he unceremoniously dropped his iced coffee, the plastic cup hitting the pavement with a dull thud. He didn't care. He didn't care about the people walking past them, or the noise of the street.

You tried to look past his shoulder one more time, a pathetic, choked gasp escaping your lips as the reality started to crush your chest.

"Hey."

Jay’s voice was sharp, cutting through the deafening ring in your ears.

Before you could turn your head again, his large, warm hand came up, gently but firmly cupping the side of your face. His long fingers rested against your jaw, his thumb pressing softly under your cheekbone as he physically guided your face up to meet his gaze. It wasn't a harsh grip, but it was unyielding. Demanding.

You blinked, the first tear finally spilling over your lashes, and your blurry eyes met his.

His dark eyes were blazing with a violent storm of fury, but the way he looked at you was desperately, agonizingly soft. He stepped even closer, his tall frame practically caging you in, ensuring that his face was the only thing in your universe right now.

"Don't look at him," Jay ordered. His voice was no longer just tight; it was low, slightly raspy, and heavy with a raw emotion he could no longer hide. His thumb brushed away the tear that fell, his gaze holding yours hostage. "Look at me. Just look at me."

The days bled into one another, and inevitably, the relationship completely shattered. The heartbreak took a massive physical toll on you. You lost weight, the vibrant light in your eyes completely extinguished. The vacation meant absolutely nothing anymore. Unable to put on a brave face, you separated from the mothers' group, retreating to a secluded, quiet villa nearer to the beach. Surrounded by tall, whispering trees and the sound of the ocean, it was easier to breathe.

And naturally, Jay stayed behind.

Every single day, you sat silently on the terrace, staring blankly at the crashing waves until the tears inevitably fell. And every single day, Jay was right there. He didn't ask questions. He didn't offer empty platitudes. He just sat beside you, lending you his shoulder and letting you cry until you had nothing left.

Until one night, the suffocating weight of it all became too much. You wandered out of the villa and onto the empty beachwalk, letting the freezing night wind bite right through your thin clothes.

You heard the familiar crunch of footsteps on the sand behind you, but you didn't care enough to turn around.

"Hey," a gruff voice called out over the wind. "Are you actively trying to freeze to death?"

Before you could shiver again, a heavy varsity jacket was thrown over your trembling shoulders. The sudden warmth enveloped you, and the strong, familiar scent of cedarwood and clean laundry filled your senses once more. Strangely, amidst all the chaos and pain in your chest, that familiar presence washed over you like a calming tide. Wrapped in his jacket, standing in the freezing dark, you finally felt... safe.

You stopped walking. Slowly, you turned around to look at him. Jay was standing a few steps away, the coastal wind ruffling his dark hair.

"Jay-ah..." you called out, your voice small and hoarse.

He took a step closer, his expression softening instantly. "Hm?" he hummed, a deep, gentle vibration in his chest. He shoved his hands into his pockets, waiting for you to speak.

You looked up, your vision blurring as you met his eyes. "Am I... am I really that hard to love?"

Jay froze.

The gentle softness in his eyes instantly shattered, replaced by a sudden, violent storm. He had watched you cry over Sungchan. He had watched you cry over the guy before him. He had spent years—years—picking up the pieces every single time some idiot broke your heart. He had been patient, playing the reliable best friend, holding his tongue while you gave your brightest smiles to guys who didn't deserve you.

But that question was the final straw.

Jay closed the distance between you in an instant. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and grabbed both of your arms, his grip tight and completely desperate.

"Can you stop?" Jay snapped, his voice rough and cracking with a frustration that ran dangerously deep. "Can you stop acting like your entire worth is defined by a bunch of pathetic bastards who never knew what they had?!"

You flinched, startled by his sudden outburst, but he didn't let you look away.

"Are you blind?!" he demanded, his voice rising over the sound of the crashing waves, his chest heaving as years of carefully built walls crumbled down. "How many times do I have to watch you do this to yourself? How many times do I have to clean up their mess?! Do you seriously not realize that the person who loves you the most is standing right in front of you?!"

Your breath hitched. Your wide, tear-filled eyes stared up at him in complete shock. "J-Jay..."

"Look at me!" he pleaded, gently but firmly shaking you. His dark eyes were blazing with a raw, agonizing sincerity that stripped away all of his sarcastic defenses. "What else are you looking for out there, huh?! Tell me what they have that I don't! You want someone who actually cares? I'm right here! You want someone who'd give you the world? I'd do it in a heartbeat! I can give you literally whatever the hell you want, just tell me and it's yours!"

His voice finally broke, the anger melting entirely into pure, unadulterated desperation. He let go of your arms, his hands sliding up to gently cradle your freezing face instead.

"Me," Jay whispered, his voice shaking as his forehead dropped down to rest heavily against yours. He closed his eyes, his warm breath fanning over your lips. "Just look at me. It's always been me."

His grip on your cheeks softened, turning impossibly gentle as his thumbs brushed away the fresh tears spilling from your eyes.

"Please," he breathed out, the word carrying a fragile, aching vulnerability that cracked your heart wide open. "Let me in. Let me treat you right."

The crash of the waves against the shore seemed to swallow the heavy silence that followed. The coastal wind howled around you, yet all you could feel was the searing heat of his palms cupping your freezing face and the erratic, thundering beat of his heart against your chest.

The world had entirely stopped spinning.

The suffocating heartbreak that had consumed you for the past few days suddenly felt incredibly distant, instantly eclipsed by the sheer, terrifying weight of his confession. Years of sarcastic remarks, stolen glances, his lingering touches, and the quiet, unwavering comfort he had always provided suddenly replayed in your mind. They clicked into place like puzzle pieces you had been entirely too blind to see.

It was always him.

You didn't say a word. Your throat was completely closed up, your mind spinning as you tried to process the magnitude of the boy standing in front of you.

But you didn't pull away, either.

Slowly, hesitantly, you raised your own trembling hands. The cold wind bit at your skin, but you found warmth as your fingers wrapped gently over his wrists, holding his hands in place against your face.

Jay slowly opened his eyes. The violent, desperate storm within his dark irises had finally settled, replaced by a quiet, agonizingly tender wait. He didn't push for an answer. He didn't need to.

You looked up at him, a soft, tearful pout tugging at your lips as you finally met his gaze.

"You're an idiot," you whispered, your voice slightly muffled by the wind. "You should have just told me from the beginning instead of letting me be with someone else."

For a split second, time stood still. Jay blinked. Then, the heavy, suffocating tension that had been keeping his shoulders so rigid completely dissolved as your words finally sank in.

A shaky breath escaped his lips, sounding dangerously close to a laugh of pure, unadulterated relief. The fierce, desperate storm in his dark eyes instantly melted into something so incredibly soft, so devastatingly warm, that it made your chest ache all over again—but this time, in the best way possible.

"Yeah. I am an idiot," he breathed out. A genuine, breathtaking smile finally broke across his face, lighting up his features even in the dim moonlight.

He didn't hesitate anymore. Jay slipped his hands from your cheeks, sliding his long arms securely around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. He wrapped you up completely, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he let out a long, contented sigh.

"I was just so terrified of losing my best friend," Jay mumbled against your skin, his embrace so tight and incredibly grounding, as if he was afraid you'd slip away with the wind. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, sending a shower of sparks straight to your heart. "But I'm never letting you go again. I promise."

The cold coastal breeze continued to howl across the empty beach, but as you finally wrapped your own arms around his waist, listening to the steady, comforting rhythm of his heartbeat against yours, you had never felt warmer.

[soulenha]

Opposites Attract ˙⋆✮ PJS

𝄞 Pair : Slytehrin!Jay x Gryffindor!Reader 𝄞 Genre : Enemies to lovers, slight yearning, fluff. 𝄞 Tags : Cute, yearning, fluff, enemies to lovers, yule ball, soft confessions, Jay and reader hated each other in the past, change of thoughts, very slightly suggestive at the end. 𝄞 Synopsis : Growing up as rivals, you thought you will hate him for life, possibly even kill him before you two became adults. But the events in Hogwarts suggested otherwise.

Jay has always been your enemy for as long as you can remember. You both were always at each other’s throats, pulling his hair, him pushing you on the floor as you both tried to strangle each other. You were both pure bloods and so your family was close to his. Though he was from a Slytherin family and you were from Gryffindor, your families were best friends. 

Just not you two. 

Then, you both got your own letters and were thrilled to go to Hogwarts, though you both still hated each other and even refused to send each other a simple congrats for getting into Hogwarts. 

Continuing your family legacy, you were sorted into Gryffindor while he was sorted into Slytherin. This only seemed to worsen your relationship because it was a common fact that Slytherins and Gryffindors hated each other and so the common rivalry continued. Both at each other’s throat. Duelling at every chance you got. But as time passed, the both of you got closer. 

Slight glances, secret smiles when you both insult each other, lingering touches. It clung to you. All this started in year 3 when you both were accidentally trapped in a dark closet after he had caused a mischief and you were caught in it. Both of you were pressed to each other, his hands were on either side of your face. Your hands were clenching your uniform tightly with your head tilted to the side so you weren’t close to his face. 

You could feel his heart racing, his body heat clinging to you which made your head spin. You took secret glances at him, his jaw clenched and eyebrows frowned. He looked deadly. 

That was the moment something shifted within the both of you. It may be hormonal but both of you felt the shift. So, things shattered changing between the two of you. Soft smiles, glances from across the classes and more intimate moments. 

The tension of rivalry was still between you both but it had also started to bloom another emotion. Something close to admiration. 

You both were in your fourth year now, currently butting heads with each other because he bumped into you but refused to apologise. “You were clearly the blind one here, why would I apologise?!” He always did this to get under your skin, to finally have your attention on him because he realized that he liked your attention on him. 

He liked when you only looked at him and spoke to him with passion, even if it was wrapped with aggression. “Just apologise!” You pull out your wand as the other students gasp, watching the drama unfold. Jay smirked when you drew your wand, dipping his hands into his pocket and stood up straight. 

“Go on. Use a spell. Knock me out, princess.” The nickname. The damned nickname which sent shivers down your spine, making you ache for him to call you that again but you refuse to tell him that. “Don't call me that. Draw your wand, Jay!” You warn, pointing at him threateningly but Jay refuses to move his body or take out his wand. 

“If I get hurt, then I rather get hurt by you and then fall in your arms.” He stated, winking at you which made the entire crowd go wild. You both knew everyone shipped you with each other. You both were inseparable. Enemies, yes. But inseparable. 

“Do it, love!” He taunted, eyes glowing with wonder if you would actually use a spell. You just stood there, heart beating fast and stupidly which you didn't like. Didn't like being under his spell or whatever charm he has on you because it makes you do stupid things. Stupid enough that you put down your wand and glared at him one last time before leaving. 

Jay's smile widened with pleasure. He had just confirmed a theory that his friends filled his head with. A theory that she too feels the things he feels. You hadn't shot at him. If this was 2 years ago, he would already be vomiting slugs out his mouth but that didn't happen. 

And he was going to make the most of this opportunity by asking you to the Yule ball before anyone. And if someone did ask you before him, he would make sure that boy regrets it. 

— 

The ball was announced the following week. An excitement buzzing among the students as they plan who shall they ask or who shall they approach. Every boy present was trying his best to impress the girl he wanted to go with and not waste a single second in the fear that she might get asked out by another boy. 

Jay was the same. His usually cocky and confident self had disappeared when the break after the lectures started. His heart thumped fast in his chest while he was determined to not show how nervous he was, trying to find you in the courtyard. 

You were sitting by the waterfall, playing with the waters and the lovely magical fish that glowed depending on the mood of the observer. In your eyes, the fish was glowing a soft shade of pink and red with white spots all over its body, a clear sign that you were ready to be asked out and were wanting it. 

You didn't know who you wanted to ask you out. Probably a nice fellow, good to you and a good personality. You smiled at the reflection of your face in the water while you daydreamed. Jay immediately spotted the red and yellow sweater you had on, the Gryffindor sweater. Your white shirt was peaking from the collars. You had a black leggings on to help you with the cold along with some cute woollen Gryffindor coloured leg warmers with some black shoes on. 

Your hair flowed with the gentle wind, making the cute yellow ribbon on your hair flutter along with it. In Jay's eyes, you were the only girl to ever exist. Looking at you like that, he had finally understood his feelings. He loved you. Loved you so much that it hurt to even think about you going out to the ball with someone else other than him. 

So he approached you. Not in a mean, insulting way like he usually does, but in a calmer, manlier way which screamed that he was a provider man. “Princess.” His deep voice came from behind you, pulling you out from your little day dreaming. You looked behind you and immediately stood up, thinking he came to tease you about not having a date yet while he snagged the hottest girl in Hogwarts.

“What? Come to insult me again? I'm too busy—” 

“Will you be my partner for the Yule ball, Y/N?” 

Your breathing stopped, time froze, hands clenched and a force pushed you back slightly. Jay. Your enemy. A Slytherin. Has asked you for the Yule ball when he could clearly have anyone with those god handsome looks of his. Your eyes were wide as you started into Jay's pleading ones. As if they wanted you to accept, needed you to accept the proposal. 

“M-me? Ja—” 

“Please don't bring up our rivalry. I.. I want to go with you and no one else.” 

He made it very clear, his words leaving his lips like it was natural and not forced. Not some sort of disgusting prank he decided to play on you. When the words soaked into you, your heart started thumping fast, breath deepened in a way where you wanted to just pull him into a kiss. 

What is this? What is happening? You both were enemies, not lovers. Your heart isn't supposed to beat like this. Not like this. Not like it wants.. the other person. 

“Yes.” The word left your mouth softly, your hands wrapped around your body as you looked away, anywhere but him. A sweet rosy blush peeked on your cheeks, making you look more lively and like a doll. The way you looked almost brought him to his knees in front of you. 

Gone was the boy who hated you in the past, who couldn't stand the sight of you and was ready to kill you. Now stood a boy who loved you, who couldn't stand you not being beside him and was ready to kill for you. His face lit up as he immediately brought his hands forward to hold your waist but paused mid-way. 

“Can.. I hold you, princess?” He smiled, his voice hopeful that you would agree. You looked at him from your eyelashes, the soft glow of the sun making you look like a goddess. “Yes.. You can.” His hands were immediately on your waist, pulling you into his chest as he buried his face deep in your neck. 

“Thank you, Y/N.. Thank you. I.. I have fallen for you and I was just living in a delusion that I hated you.” He mumbled, arms tightening around your waist that almost lifted you up from the ground. 

“I feel the same, Jay. You managed to make one of my fantasies come true.” You chuckled into his shoulder, your hands wrapping around his shoulder, pulling him closer. “And I'm ready for any more fantasies you have. Appropriate and inappropriate.” 

---

Gen taglist : @wooyoungmybelovedhusband , Join?

©Soulenha | All rights reserved

[encorediary]

lipstick - park jongseong💄

bf!jay x gf!reader🤍

genre: smut 🔞 (mdni) | wc: 1815.

pairing: jay really loved your lipstick that it drives him insane.

warnings: kissing, flirting, making out, dom!jay, dom!reader, moaning, nipple kissing - sucking and biting, unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving), clit rubbing.

!it’s my first ever smut, please be nice😩

Jay notices things.

That’s the problem.

He notices everything.

The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous.

The way you always steal the strawberries from his desserts.

The way your eyes disappear when you laugh too hard.

And unfortunately for him…

He notices your lipstick, too.

Today it’s a cherry red one.

Yesterday it was a soft pink one.

Last week it was a color so close to your natural lips that he spent twenty minutes trying to figure out why you looked different.

It’s ridiculous.

He’s aware of that.

But every time you smile at him across the room, he’s suddenly incapable of remembering what he was doing.

“You’re staring again.”

Your voice pulls him back to reality.

Jay blinks.

You’re standing in front of him now, arms crossed, trying -and failing- not to smile.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You absolutely are.”

A laugh escapes your lips.

And for a second…

All he can think about is how that lipstick would probably leave a mark if he kissed you.

He leans closer and places a hand on your neck with such gentleness that it sends shivers down your spine, then slowly moves it behind your head, pulling you close.

"This lipstick looks great on you, you know that?"

He confesses, looking into your eyes.

"Do you like it?"

You reply, aware of the effect it has on him.

"Mmh mmh"

He leans closer to your lips,

caressing your cheeks with both his hands.

He kisses you slowly at first,

which intensifies when you run a hand over his chest.

The gesture drives him crazy,

and, breaking away from the kiss,

he remains a few inches from your lips.

"You're so gorgeous, that’s dangerous."

"Dangerous why?"

You say with a grin and tilting your head slightly to feign innocence.

"Because I wouldn't leave you for even a second"

He says as his hands end up on your back, massaging up and down.

"You can do whatever you want."

That sentence makes him pause for a second.

Then with the most mischievous look in the world, he kisses you again.

He steps back, and he touches the edge of the couch, sitting down.

You're on top of him now, still with your lips on his.

You start kissing his neck, leaving lipstick marks, and he can't help but moan.

"Have you really become that weak for my lipstick?"

You say while leaving kisses on his soft skin.

He takes your chin with one hand, when you finally look at him, his hand slowly slides from your neck to your chest, resting it on your hip.

"Yes, because whatever you're wearing looks divine on you, you're perfect."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"You're so sweet, I almost feel guilty for thinking I could drive you crazy for a while,"

You tell him with a pout, caressing his cheek with the back of your hand.

He removes your hand from his cheek.

"Don't worry, I give you permission, make me yours."

You smile at him and in an instant you're kissing him with a hunger you've never felt before.

You break away from the kiss and move further and further down, from his neck to his chest.

In two seconds, you unbutton the shirt he was wearing, until it's completely off.

You leave a trail of hot kisses all over his chest, reaching his stomach.

You look up at him for a second and notice he was about to explode, but he made you continue.

When he sees you're looking at him, he raises his hand and grabs a lock of your hair.

"You're so sexy when you want to dominate me, and with that red lipstick..."

"And I'm just getting started"

You reply, and you return to kissing him from where you left off.

You move back with kisses until you reach his neck, sitting on his hips again.

You move closer to his face, but without kissing him, you take off your top, leaving you in your bra.

He watches your every move intently with eyes like those of a puppy desperately begging for food.

He looks at your chest and then up at your eyes, his gaze a mixture of admiration and desire.

He kisses your neck without saying anything, sucking the skin and biting just enough to make you moan.

"You smell amazing"

He says as he continues kissing your neck, moving down to your shoulder.

You don't respond immediately, you're busy enjoying the kisses he's leaving you.

And damn, he’s so good at kissing you like this, that for a second your vision blurs in pleasure.

He knows every one of your sweet spots, and when he wants to drive you a little wild, he knows just what to pull.

"Jay..."

You say, panting and tightening your hand in his hair, pulling him closer to you.

"Yes, honey?"

He says without leaving your skin.

"I want more."

He pulls away from you and, without saying anything, he lays you down on the couch.

He leans on top of you, holding onto his forearms near your shoulders.

He looks at you intensely, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen onto your forehead.

"You need me, princess?"

"Yes, please!"

You grab his neck and kiss him with an intensity that you can already feel his hardness under you.

You start laughing into the kiss.

He notices it and, without saying anything

he reaches a hand down your back and unhooks your bra, exposing your breasts. He looks at you as if he’s asking for your permission to touch you.

"Can I?"

He asks in a soft, calm voice that makes you smile.

You nod without answering.

When you give him permission, he moves closer to the middle of your breast and leaves kisses right there.

His lips are so warm, making you arch your back and gasp softly.

Then he moves closer to your right breast, first gently brushing it with his nose.

Then when he reaches your nipple, he kisses it.

Then he starts sucking it and lightly biting it.

You, surprised, let out a louder moan and jump a little because you weren't expecting it.

"Sorry, love, but they're so beautiful I can't resist"

He says without looking you in the eyes, and continues sucking your nipple.

With his other hand, he takes your other breast and plays with it.

You keep moaning, he knows how much you like it when he plays with your breasts.

So he keeps sucking both your nipples and your skin, leaving little hickeys on them.

He slowly pulls away from your breast and looks at the hickeys he's left.

"So sexy"

He then looks at you with a mischievous grin.

"You're so sexy, you know that?"

You lift your head from the pillow and sit back against the back of the couch.

"You are, look at you, covered in my kisses and lipstick marks"

You say, running a finger over his chest.

"Oh, I hadn't noticed, it feels like I've become your canvas."

You let out a laugh, rising slightly to sit on top of him.

"Now it's my turn"

You say, and he looks at you with wide eyes, but you can tell he's been waiting for nothing else.

You wrap your arms around his neck, looking at him intently.

"Shall we get straight to the point, mmh?"

You say, tilting your head to give him a single kiss on the neck.

"Go ahead, love"

He says, holding his breath for a second. You stand up and begin unbuttoning your shorts, pulling them down along with your underwear.

He looks you up and down with his mouth open.

You move closer to him and place a hand on his v-line, very close to the hem of his pants.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just want you so bad"

You unbutton his pants too, and he helps you pull them off along with his boxers.

Now you're both naked, but before doing anything, you ask him.

"We'd better get on the bed, what do you think? We'll be more comfortable that way."

He doesn't respond, just looks at you and follows you like a puppy.

You get to the bedroom, and he immediately lies down, waiting just for you to get on top of him.

You sit on top of him, between his legs and knees, looking into his eyes. You gently grab his dick and begin to move your hand up and down, leaving Jay in a sweet mess full of moaning.

Then you get on your knees and lower your head until you reach his cock.

First you lick the tip, then his length. You look at him and see how his head is leaning back while rolling his eyes in the pleasure you're causing him.

Then you put it in your mouth and suck it, making his legs tremble slightly.

"Okay, that's enough before I cum right away"

He says to you, with a broken voice.

So you get up and lie down next to him.

"Okay then, I'm all yours, Jay."

He looks at you with a mischievous half-smile and positions himself between your legs, slowly parting them.

He runs a finger between your entrance.

"You're already so wet for me."

At his touch, you moan and tilt your head back.

"And so sensitive too"

He tells you before moving his dick closer. to your entrance.

He enters your vagina slowly, as if he’s afraid of hurting you.

But then, seeing how much pleasure he's making you feel, he starts to go faster with stronger thrusts.

While he's inside you, he approaches your lips and kisses you, and you both moan into the kiss.

You pull away slightly.

"Don't stop, oh god-, it feels so good"

You say, moaning more and more.

He lets out an amused sound.

"You too, baby, you're so tight, and your pussy feels so good around my dick."

He raises a hand and places his thumb on your clit, making circular motions.

His touch makes you see stars, and you grab the sheets and squeeze them tightly, arching your back.

"Jay I think I'm about to come"

You say, intertwining your arms around his back and digging your nails into it. Making him grunts.

"I think I'm about to come too, baby."

He continues to thrust into you harder and harder.

You both come at the same time, filling the room with your moans.

He collapses on top of you, breathing quickly, trying to catch his breath.

You both are lying down there, breathing heavily, entwined together.

When he looks at you.

"Look what your lipstick did. If it always ends up like this, you should wear it more often"

He says before giving you a sweet kiss on the lips and intertwining your hands with his.

“Oh, i will definitely doing that”

[kkeongi]

This Loser Means Business — Jay AU (1)

ʚ pairings : class clown!jay classmate x reader!fem

ʚ mini playlist : company — justin bieber ꩜ You Right (Extended) — Doja cat ꩜ Forever ever — Trippie Young ꩜ Tiramisu — Don Toliver ꩜ Sativa — Jhene Aiko ꩜ Agora Hills — Doja Cat

ʚ a/n : I’m already working on part 2. enjoy the read 💜

ʚ WC : 7.8k - 8.2k

ʚ genre : forbidden romance elements ⟢ angst driven ⟢ cheating ⟢ toxicity ⟢ moral conflict ⟢ dark romance elements ⟢ 18+ content

2

♥︎⠀⦂ ¡! You find yourself pulled toward the one person who should be completely off-limits: Sunghoon’s best friend. a connection that feels too intense to ever truly end well.

Monday night, right after a long, draining day at school, and you're just... completely in it. You're doing these explicit things to Jay, kissing down his neck, swirling your tongue against his skin, and his hands are all over you—one rubbing the back of your neck and the other gripping your thigh so tight it digs in. Then he just lets out this sharp, strained "Fuck—" and winces a little.

You pull back to look at him, kind of caught off guard, but he just traps your jaw in his hand and crashes his lips right back onto yours. Hard. You suck on his bottom lip, and his other hand stumbles its way up under your shirt, resting just beneath your chest. It gives you this sudden, ridiculous rush of butterflies. The touch is so tingly, but in the best way possible, and you let out this soft, pathetic little whimper while he just keeps his hands moving against your skin.

Honestly, you can feel your whole lower body getting so turned on—heated, heavy, completely soaked. And he isn't wasting any time, his hand already drifting down near your ass. The sensation makes you feel like you just want to be completely undone, even though you guys haven't actually gotten that far yet, except for grinding on each other. It's mostly because you're still trying to hold back, but tonight you just can't wait anymore. Tonight, It feels different.

And the worst part? You genuinely don't know how you let it get to this point. Especially because you have a boyfriend.. A whole boyfriend. Sunghoon.

You can't even play the innocent card or deny the fact that you aren't a virgin. You lost that to Sunghoon when you both turned eighteen. But the thing about you and Sunghoon... you liked him, and he liked you back, but the issue was that he was just so shy. So friendly. Way too casual about everything, and it honestly got on your nerves. You’ve always had a thing for red flags, so it felt entirely wrong to see Sunghoon be that nice. It wasn’t like he was friendly in a disrespectful way—it's not like he hugged or touched other girls inappropriately—it was just that he was too kind. To everyone.

Don't get it twisted, one of the things you loved about Sunghoon was that he was amazing in bed. But the major downside?? He never went for more. He never pushed for it. It didn’t annoy you at first because, whatever, you got it, but now... fuck. You’re always turned on, usually at the most inconvenient times imaginable, and it has been completely messing with your head.

You felt disgusting about it, but you couldn't just get rid of your habits. You needed to be touched constantly, you craved it, but you hid it so well from everyone. Your friends could be sitting there talking about whatever gossip, your teachers could be lecturing at the front of the room, and all you could think about was sex. Just constant, intrusive thoughts. Sunghoon sort of knew, but he just never tried to initiate things as much as you actually wanted him to…

You and Sunghoon hung out constantly, even as a couple, and it got to the point where you'd stay at his house for weeks at a time. You'd do it quietly whenever the urge hit. It was always so risky, especially when his family was downstairs getting ready or something, calling out to each other through the house. In the middle of all that noise, you guys would quickly lock the door, slide into his closet—even though there was barely any space—and he'd bend you over and just quickly thrust. And fuck... it felt so good every single time.

Then there was that one time his friends were invited over, but you were already there, just hanging out in his bedroom. When Sunghoon walked out to open the front door, his friends greeted him, and you stayed back, scrolling on your phone. When you finally got up to head to the kitchen, you noticed his friends, but you just walked right past them, eyes glued to your screen.

Sunghoon noticed you, though. He got up from the couch while his friends were totally distracted, focused on gaming and eating snacks. He followed you into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around you from behind. You turned around in his hold and pecked his lips.

"What is it?" you asked softly. He didn't even answer, just started kissing your neck, biting gently at the skin, and you let out this soft, shaky, heated exhale.

Right then, Jay walked into the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks, seeing Sunghoon kissing your neck while your lips were parted like that. He just paused and stared. Sunghoon was entirely too into what he was doing to notice, and your eyes were getting all hazy, but then you caught Jay’s shadow on the floor.

Your head turned slowly, and your eyes met Jay's.

He just stared at you. You couldn’t read his face or tell what kind of reaction he was having, but he didn’t try to stop you two. He just walked away quietly, acting like absolutely nothing happened.

For a whole week after that incident, you couldn't stop replaying it in your head. Of course, that day, right after his friends finally left, Sunghoon had walked back into the room and you guys got right into doing it. But now, sitting in your room, you get a text from him.

“Hey baby, Jay just wanted to know if you could bring back his class notes for chemistry”

You absolutely hated chemistry. Obviously, you didn't share that class with your boyfriend, but at least two of his friends were in it with you. Jake and Jay. The thing was, you weren't close with either of them, mostly because they’re just boys, and that’s how guys your age are—they didn't really interact with the girls in their class. Jake had talked to you a few times, but it was always just boring, old small talk, usually asking where Sunghoon was. Jay, though? He rarely spoke to you at all… The only times he ever said anything was when Sunghoon was standing right there.

After staring at the message for a second, you typed back. “sure, do I drop it off at your place?”

He responded almost instantly. “Nah, just drop it off at his place. [location]”

See, that was another thing that annoyed you so much about Sunghoon—he just wasn’t the typical jealous type. He was perfectly fine leaving you alone with his friends. Shouldn’t he be dragging you along with him, or at least acting a little bit possessive? But no. He just wasn't. It was this weird, indescribable feeling that twisted in your stomach.

A bit later, you pull up Jay’s location on your phone and realize his house is actually pretty close by. You throw on at least two oversized hoodies before leaving, considering the weather outside makes you feel like you're literally hugging an iceberg.

Walking down the sidewalk, your hands are shoved deep into your pockets, and you can feel goosebumps prickling on your neck from the chill. You find his house, walk up the porch steps, and knock. Jay bolts to the door and yanks it open, telling you to come in. But as soon as you step inside, feeling completely confused, he shuts the door and looks up, finally realizing it’s you and not his parents or someone else.

“Yo— oh fuck! Shit, it’s you. I thought Sunghoon would come, not you…”

You look at him, your brows knitting together, one of them raising slightly. “What do you mean?…”

He touches his jaw, almost looking like he’s holding his breath. “Nothing. I just asked Sunghoon to get the chemistry work from you. You know... since they’re my notes.”

You don't say anything, just pull the notebook out of your tote bag and hand it over. He takes it, his eyes locking onto yours. “Thanks.”

You can feel this sudden heat creeping into your face. Standing this close, his skin looks so incredibly soft, and his neck is right there, completely untouched. Looking at his lips makes your vision go hazy for a second, and you have to internally scream at yourself—fuck, no, not the time. You cannot be feeling like this right now. You just stand there, staring down at him.

His eyebrows raise a little. “What is it? Do you need something?”

You shake your head quickly. “Nothing…”

He nods slowly, looking at you intently. “Can I talk about something? If you know what I mean…”

You subconsciously rub your mouth, biting your lip behind your hand, and just nod.

“Sorry I saw the kiss the other day,” he says, his voice shifting. “It just... kinda caught me off guard. Not gonna lie.”

You just nod along, the tension getting too thick, and before your brain can stop you, you blurt out, “Are you a virgin?”

He freezes mid-sentence, his hand dropping away from his jaw. The sheer randomness of the question seems to sap every single drop of nervous energy right out of the room. Jay lets out this breathless, completely disbelieving laugh, looking down at the chemistry book in his hands for a second before snapping his gaze back up to you.

"You really just say whatever comes to your mind, don't you?" he murmurs, this faint, lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He tosses the notebook onto the small table by the door, completely dismissing it, and leans his shoulder against the wall, tilting his head to look at you properly.

“Why?" he asks, his voice dropping into this low, teasing register. He takes a single step forward, invading your space, closing the gap until you can smell the faint, clean scent of his laundry detergent. "Planning on doing something about it if I am?"

Your breath hitches in your throat. "I'm just asking," you manage to choke out, desperately trying to keep your voice steady and casual.

"Right," Jay echoes, his eyes dropping down to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up to your eyes. "No," he says softly, the word coming out like a quiet confession.

You have absolutely no clue what to do, but your body is already reacting way before your brain can even catch up. The freezing air from outside is still clinging to your heavy hoodies, but the tiny space between you and Jay is suddenly thick with this dangerous, suffocating heat.

"No?" you repeat, your voice barely a whisper. You honestly expected him to be embarrassed or awkward, but instead, he’s looking at you like he can see right through the whole 'loyal girlfriend' act you put on when you're around Sunghoon.

Jay tilts his head further, his gaze lingering on the way you’re still nervously biting your lip. "Does Sunghoon know you ask his friends things like that?" he asks, his voice getting noticeably deeper. He doesn't sound angry or like he's threatening to tell on you—he sounds like he’s actively challenging you.

"Sunghoon doesn't notice a lot of things," you blurt out. The sheer honesty of it stings a little. You can't help but think about how Sunghoon literally just sent you over here, completely unbothered, trusting, and casual.

Jay lets out this low, vibrating hum in the back of his throat. He reaches out, his fingers lightly grazing the fabric of your oversized sleeve. "I noticed," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "That day in the kitchen. I noticed how you looked at me over his shoulder."

Your heart starts hammering violently against your ribs. A part of you wants to turn around and run back out into the freezing weather, but the way Jay is looking at you right now—dark, completely focused, and definitely not 'too kind'—is exactly what you’ve been starving for during those long, mind-numbing hours in class.

"You didn't say anything," you challenge him, intentionally stepping a fraction closer into his space.

"Because he's my best friend," Jay mutters, though he doesn't make a single move to pull away. In fact, his hand slides up from your sleeve, his fingers brushing against the side of your neck, his thumb tracing the exact line of your jaw just like you’d been imagining earlier. His skin feels even softer than it looked. "But you're the one standing in my hallway right now, asking me about personal things."

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear, sending a massive, electric wave of goosebumps down your spine that has absolutely nothing to do with the winter weather outside.

"So," he whispers, his lips practically brushing your skin. "Are we going to keep talking about Sunghoon, or are you going to tell me why you're actually shaking?"

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Your breath catches completely, trapped in the back of your throat. You hate that he noticed you were shaking, but you hate even more that you can’t tell if it’s from the residual chill of the walk or the sheer, dizzying panic of having him this close. He’s standing right in your space. The hallway suddenly feels entirely too small, suffocatingly hot, and you can still hear the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in his house, marking every second you’re staying here when you should have already walked out the door.

"I'm not shaking," you lie, your voice coming out way weaker than you wanted it to. It’s pathetic, really, considering his thumb is still resting right against your jawline, feeling the erratic, heavy pulse jumping under your skin.

Jay lets out another one of those low, amused huffs, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle against your skin. He doesn't pull back. "Right. Sure you aren't."

He looks down at you, his eyes incredibly dark under the hallway lighting. There's none of that distance that you're used to with Sunghoon. Jay is looking at you like he already knows every single bad thought you've ever had in class, like he’s been parsing through your expressions for weeks just waiting for you to slip up. And the fact that he’s Sunghoon’s best friend just makes a sick, heavy knot tighten in your stomach. It’s a massive red flag. It’s messy, it’s dangerous, and it’s exactly the kind of tension that’s been driving you crazy for months.

"You should just take your notes and let me go," you murmur, though you don't actually make a move to back away from him. Your feet feel glued to the floorboards.

"I have the notes," Jay says softly, his gaze dropping to your mouth again, lingering there just a second too long before rising back to meet your eyes. "But you're still standing here. You haven't moved toward the door once."

The call-out makes your face burn. You swallow hard, your mind racing back to that afternoon in Sunghoon's kitchen, the memory of Jay's shadow blocking the light, the way your eyes had met while your boyfriend's lips were pressed to your neck. You’d felt so exposed then, but right now, with Sunghoon completely oblivious at home, it feels a thousand times worse. And better.

"What do you want, Jay?" you challenge, trying to find that defensive, sharp edge you usually use to hide how easily turned on you get. "You gonna tell him?"

Jay tilts his head, his fingers sliding just an inch lower, his palm brushing the sensitive skin under your ear, sending another violent shiver straight down your arms. "Tell him what? That his girlfriend came over to drop off my chemistry book and asked if I was a virgin?" A slow, incredibly infuriating smirk pulls at his lips. "I don't think he'd even believe me. He thinks too highly of both of us."

The mention of Sunghoon’s trust hits you like a splash of ice water, but before the guilt can actually sink in and ruin the moment, Jay steps even closer. His chest is almost touching yours now, the thick fabric of your double hoodies the only real barrier between you.

"But maybe he should," Jay whispers, his voice dropping an octave, completely serious now. All the teasing playful energy just evaporates, replaced by something heavy and demanding. "Maybe he should start paying attention to the way you look at people. Because if he doesn't..." He pauses, his eyes dropping to the parted line of your lips. "...someone else is going to take advantage of it."

"Someone like you?" you breathe out, your heart hammering so loud you're convinced he can hear it.

Jay doesn't answer with words. Instead, his hand moves from your neck, his fingers tangling directly into the hair at the back of your head, gripping just firmly enough to tilt your face up. He leans down, his lips stopping barely a millimeter away from yours, letting you feel the agonizing, warm friction of his breath.

“You tell me,” he murmurs, his lips still barely brushing yours. “Are you going back to him tonight, or are you staying here to finish what you started asking me about?”

In that moment, you hesitate. Just for a second. And then something inside you gives way.

The slow, agonizing burn of the past week—the stolen glances, the messages you deleted the moment they appeared, the guilt that usually sits heavy in your chest—starts to fade. It doesn’t disappear cleanly. It just gets drowned out, overwhelmed by the heat of his hands and the pull of everything you’ve been trying not to want.

He grabs the hem of your hoodie, his fingers frantic, pulling it up and over your head in one swift, impatient motion. The cool air of the room hits your bare skin for a split second before Jay’s hands are right back on you, warm and completely unyielding. He pushes you back against the mattress, his body following yours down without a single second of hesitation. The weight of him is heavy, crushing, and exactly what you’ve been starving for.

"Jay—" you gasp out, the syllable breaking on your lips as his mouth drops back down to your collarbone, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark. A mark you know you’re going to have to hide later with concealer and high collars.

"Don't," he mutters against your skin, his voice incredibly dark, rough with an urgency that scares you a little. "Don't say anything. Don't think about him."

But that’s the toxic, twisted thing about it. You are thinking about him. Even as Jay’s fingers find the button of your jeans, his hands work faster, almost clumsily, urgency replacing control. And still, Sunghoon’s face flickers behind your eyelids—Sunghoon, who trusts you without question. Sunghoon, who’s likely at home right now, assuming you’re studying… or already asleep.

The moral conflict twists like a knife in your gut, sick and disgusting, but the raw physical sensation of Jay’s body moving against yours pulls you in like something you can’t refuse. It becomes something you keep going back to, even as it ruins you.

Jay shifts, his knee forcing its way between your thighs, parting them easily. He hooks his hands under your knees, pulling you up, making you completely vulnerable to him. When he looks down at you, his breathing is ragged, his dark hair falling into his eyes, and there’s this raw, almost angry look on his face. It’s a dark romance, a completely forbidden mess, and you both know you’ve crossed a line you can never walk back over.

"You're mine right now," he whispers, a low, possessive command as his hand slides down, his fingers finally finding the slick, aching heat between your legs. "Say it. Tell me you're not his right now."

A pathetic, broken sob hitches in your throat as his fingers move against you, sending a wave of intense, blinding pleasure straight through your lower body. You arch into his touch, your fingernails digging directly into the muscles of his shoulders, tearing at his shirt.

"I'm yours," you whimper, completely undone, abandoning every shred of your conscience just to feel him closer. "Jay, please..."

He doesn't make you wait anymore. He reaches down, ridding himself of the last barriers between you, his eyes locked entirely on yours. There’s no tenderness in the way he pushes inside you—it’s deep, sudden, and overwhelming, filling you so completely that you can only let out a sharp, breathless cry into the quiet room.

The friction is pure chaos. Every single thrust is heavy, frantic, driven by weeks of pent-up resentment, jealousy, and mutual self-destruction. He’s rough with you, hands locked around your hips like he’s not planning on letting go anytime soon, firm enough that you already know it’s going to leave marks later. You can feel it building into bruises, and weirdly you’re aware of it even as everything else gets a bit messy and unfocused. Pinning you to the bed he sets a punishing, desperate rhythm. It feels complicated, it feels wrong, but fuck... it feels better than anything you’ve ever experienced. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, losing yourself completely in the forbidden rhythm of his body breaking yours down.

He leans in close, face tucked against the side of your neck, his breath uneven and warm against your skin, like he’s trying to steady himself there but can’t quite manage it. He drives into you faster, harder. You can feel the climax building rapidly, a heavy, suffocating wave of heat pooling in your stomach, threatening to fracture whatever is left of your sanity.

"Jay, I'm—" you choke out, your voice trembling.

He grips your jaw again, forcing you to look at him, his dark eyes wide and completely consumed by you as he delivers a few final, devastatingly deep thrusts. "With me," he commands against your lips, his voice breaking. "Look at me when you do it."

The release hits you like a physical shockwave, your muscles squeezing around him as your vision goes entirely hazy, a soft, ruined cry escaping your parted lips. Just seconds later, with a low, ruined groan, Jay buries his face in your shoulder and follows you over the edge, his body trembling violently as he spills inside you.

For a long time, the only sound in the room is the heavy, ragged sound of your tangled breathing. He stays heavy on top of you, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his fingers still loosely tangled in your hair.

The intoxication begins to fade, and the cold, stiff reality of the room starts creeping back in. The silence is suddenly deafening. As Jay slowly pulls away, the physical detachment feels agonizingly sharp. You lie there on the messy sheets, staring up at the ceiling, the sticky heat between your thighs a permanent reminder of what you’ve just done.

You look over at his nightstand. Your phone screen lights up in the dark.

A text from Sunghoon. "Let me know when you're home safe, baby. Love you."

The sickness in your stomach doubles. You look at Jay, who is sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to you, his shoulders tense, running a hand through his messy hair. You’ve gotten exactly what you wanted—but as you look at the text on your screen, guilt just builds up.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Three weeks later, and the guilt hasn't actually gone away. It just changed shapes. It turned into this constant, low-humming static in the back of your head that makes it impossible to focus on anything. You thought the worst part would be the immediate aftermath.

You never replied to that specific one—not properly. You just sent a generic “home now, turning off my phone to sleep x” an hour too late.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Now, it’s a Tuesday afternoon. The weather hasn't gotten any better; it’s still that bitter, damp chill that gets into your bones, making the walk between your place and campus feel miserable. You're sitting on the edge of your own bed, staring at a blank document on your laptop, supposedly trying to catch up on assignments you’ve completely neglected. you look at your legs the faded bruise from that deep, angry purple to a dull, greenish-yellow, but if you press your thumb down hard enough against your hip bone, the sharp ache is still there.

Everything else—your life, your classes, your relationship—feels like you’re watching it through a cracked window.

Your phone buzzes against the rumpled duvet.

Sunghoon: “hey, dropping by your place in 10? brought those drinks you like from the corner place.”

Panic, cold and sharp, spikes right through your chest. Sunghoon hasn't been over to your apartment since the night before everything went to hell. You’ve been meticulously making excuses to only see him at his house, or in crowded cafes, or anywhere that didn't involve being completely alone behind closed doors where your guilt could swallow you whole.

You scramble to type back, your mind frantically searching for a lie.

You: “wait no im actually not home!! at the library studying for the chem mid-term.”

A beat. Two minutes of agonizing silence where you can literally hear the ticking of the clock on your wall.

Sunghoon: “oh okay all good. jake and jay are at the library too doing study hours. ill just text jay to give the latte to you. see u tonight baby.”

Fuck.

Your stomach drops so hard you actually feel nauseous. You’re trapped. If you don’t show up at the campus library in the next ten minutes, Sunghoon is going to find out you lied. But if you do go, you have to face Jay.

You haven't spoken to Jay since that night in his hallway. Not a single text, not a single look in class. When you passed each other in the corridors last week, he looked right through you, his expression totally blank, his jaw set so tight it looked like stone.

Ten minutes later, you’re pulling open the heavy glass doors of the university library, the blast of heated air hitting your face but doing nothing to melt the ice in your veins. Your eyes scan the rows of long wooden desks, past the stacks of books, until you spot them in the back corner by the high windows.

Jake is slumped over a textbook, a pair of headphones around his neck, completely tuned out.

And Jay is sitting right across from him.

He’s wearing a black sweater, his dark hair a little messy, spinning a mechanical pencil between his fingers with an agonizingly slow rhythm. Resting right next to his laptop is a plastic takeaway cup with a green sleeve.

Your boots feel like lead as you walk down the aisle toward their table. Jake notices you first, blinking up from his notes with a tired, friendly smile. "Oh, hey. Sunghoon said you were coming up. He literally just dropped this off for you," Jake says, pointing a thumb at the green cup before turning back to his laptop, completely unfocused on anything else.

You slide into the empty chair next to Jake, which puts you directly opposite Jay.

"Thanks," you murmur, your voice tight. You reach out to take the cup, your fingers wrapping around the warm cardboard.

Jay doesn't look up immediately. He slowly stops spinning the pencil, letting it rest on his notebook. Then, his eyes rise.

The intensity of his gaze hits you like a physical weight. There is no friendliness there. No casual, safe distance. His eyes drop down to the collar of your sweater, tracking the way you nervously pulled it up earlier to hide your neck, before snapping back up to your face. The silent communication between you is so heavy it feels like the air in the library is thinning out.

You take a sip just to have something to do with your hands, but it tastes like ash.

Underneath the table, your knee accidentally brushes against his.

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat, instantly preparing to pull your leg back and mutter an apology. But before you can move, Jay shifts his leg. He doesn't pull away. Instead, he presses his knee firmly against yours, locking you in place under the cover of the heavy wooden desk.

The friction, even through the denim of your jeans, feels electric.

You look up at him, your eyes wide with a silent, panicked plea, but Jay just leans back in his chair, his expression entirely unbothered as he looks down at his laptop screen. He types something with one hand, while his leg continues to press harder against yours, a toxic, hidden claim right in front of Jake. Right in front of the ghost of Sunghoon's kindness.

Your phone vibrates in your lap. You look down, your heart hammering against your ribs.

It’s an unknown number, but you already know exactly who it is.

“You’re still shaking. Meet me in the third-floor stacks in five minutes or I’m telling Jake to leave.”

Your fingers freeze over the screen. You look up, your eyes wide and slightly frantic, but Jay isn’t even looking at you. He’s just staring at his laptop, the corner of his mouth twitching into that familiar, arrogant smirk he usually wears when he’s about to throw a paper airplane at the back of the lecturer's head.

That’s the worst part of all of this. Jay isn’t just somewhat loud but unbothered. He's supposed to be lighthearted. Easy.

But behind closed doors, when he’s got his hands locked onto your jaw, he is dark, heavy, and completely suffocating.

"Hey, I'm gonna go grab a vending machine energy drink," Jake mutters suddenly, stretching his arms over his head. "Either of you want anything?"

"Nah, I'm good," Jay says, his voice perfectly casual, the exact same tone he uses when he's messing around with the guys.

"I'm okay, thanks," you choke out.

The second Jake’s footsteps fade down the library carpet, the easygoing facade drops. Jay doesn't wait five minutes. He doesn't even wait for you to go to the third floor. He snaps his laptop shut, grabs his phone, and stands up in one fluid motion. He doesn't look back to see if you're following him; he just walks toward the back exit of the library, near the older, dimly lit aisles where nobody ever goes.

Your legs move on autopilot. You leave your notebook and the latte on the table, your heart practically throat-adjacent as you follow the shadow of his black sweater into the maze of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

The air back here is heavy, smelling of old paper and dust. The fluorescent lights overhead flicker slightly.

You turn the corner into a dead-end aisle of foreign law texts, and before you can even register his movement, Jay grabs your forearm and pulls you back-first into the metal shelving. The books rattle behind your head. He steps directly into your space, pinning you there, his body blocking out the rest of the library.

"You're late," he murmurs, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that completely ruins you.

"Jake literally just left, Jay, what the fuck are you doing?" you whisper frantically, your hands coming up to press against his chest to keep some distance between you. "He’s going to come back to the desk. If he sees we're both gone—"

“Shut up” Jay cuts you off, his dark eyes boring into yours. He reaches up, his fingers biting into your chin, forcing your head up just like he did three weeks ago. "Let him tell Sunghoon. Is that what you want? You want him to save you from me?"

"No," you blurt out, the honesty slipping out before you can filter it.

Jay lets out a low, satisfied breath against your lips. "Good. Because I'm not letting you go. You've been avoiding me for three weeks. You think you can just take what you wanted from me in my hallway and then go back to being Sunghoon’s perfect little girl?"

"It's not like that," you whimper, but your body is already betraying you. The friction of his thighs pressing against yours through his jeans is sending that familiar, heavy heat straight to your lower body. You hate how easily he undoes you. You hate that he knows exactly how much power he has over you.

"Then what is it like?" Jay challenges, his thumb sliding down to press firmly against the center of your throat, feeling your frantic swallow. "Tell me why you lied to him today. Tell me why you’re here with me right now instead of drinking that pretty little latte he bought you."

The toxicity of the question twists in your gut, but the thrill of it is too loud to ignore. He’s leaning in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his hands sliding down your waist to grip your hips, right over the spots where the bruises finally faded.

"I wanted to see you," you confess, your voice breaking in the quiet aisle. "Fuck, Jay... I couldn't stop thinking about it."

He freezes for a fraction of a second, his grip tightening until it almost hurts, a raw, possessive flare lighting up his dark eyes. "Say it again," he commands roughly, his head dropping to the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin right above your sweater collar. "Tell me who you were thinking about."

"You," you breathe out, the word escaping like a ruined confession into the dark space between the shelves. "I was thinking about you..."

Jay lets out this sharp, ragged growl against your skin, and the last shred of his class-clown composure just completely disintegrates. He hooks his fingers under your jaw, tilting your head back brutally, and crashes his mouth onto yours. It’s not gentle; it’s frantic, angry, and so heavy it pushes your head back against the metal shelf, making the books rattle behind you again.

You suck on his bottom lip, tasting the bitter edge of the coffee he’d been drinking, your hands abandoning his chest to scramble up his shoulders, burying your fingers deep into his hair.

He handles you like he wants to break you, his other hand sliding under the hem of your sweater, his palm hot and rough against your bare waist, gripping your skin so tight it's going to leave a whole new set of marks. You let out a soft, pathetic whimper into the kiss, your lower body aching, completely heavy and soaked under the friction of his weight pinning you to the structure.

"Three weeks," Jay mutters against your lips, his breathing totally shot, his eyes dark and wildly unfocused as he stares down at you. "You made me sit in class watching you act like nothing happened. Like you didn't look at me like a dog while your boyfriend was kissing you."

"Jay, please—"

"Please what?" he whispers, his fingers sliding lower, hooking into the waistband of your jeans, pulling you flush against him until you can feel the rigid, heavy length of him straining against his clothes. "You want to do this right here? You want Jake to walk down this aisle and see what his best friend is doing to Sunghoon’s girl?"

The utter infectious feeling of it makes your stomach flip, a sickening wave of inner turmoil clashing directly with the blinding, intrusive heat pooling in your thighs. You know you should stop. You know Jake is probably walking back to the desk right now with his energy drink, looking around for both of you.

But as Jay slides his hand entirely inside your jeans, his fingers instantly finding the slick, burning heat between your legs, you just arch your back against the metal shelves, your eyes rolling back as a ruined, helpless cry gets trapped right in the back of your throat.

. . . . .

To be Continued

ʚ taglist : @reysblr @pbandjay7 @enhjay

(Fill this out to be in my taglist or let me know in the comments which ff you’d liked to be tagged in!)

taglist availability

[shades0fco0ll]

I love hot nerds with glasses PART 1 - Park Jongseong.

Trope content : non-idol Jay /history nerd Jay / history nerd reader / university classmates → lovers / slow burn.

She asked for his notes. He gives them. Neither of them expects history to become the starts of something more.

Part 2 / Part 3

don’t hesitate to comment if you want to be in the taglist for the future parts !

[bensabrifirildak]

SMILE ⋆˚꩜｡ SJY

pairing: student!jake sim x student!fem!reader

synopsis: in which a soft smile jake gave y/n across the lecture hall was the start of her crush. jake was a cute guy, impossible to ignore. y/n always talked about him to her friends, what if jake did the same?

smau au

•taglist: open ! comment if you wanna be added or removed!

featuring: enhypen (ot7), yunjin (le sserafim), rei (ive), giselle (aespa), anton (riize).

profiles

anton's silly fans | jaywon and friends

chapters

001 he has been promoted!

002 sunsun and friends

003 come back twin...

004 life's worth living

005 reassurance por favor

006 am i the huzz?

007 oh who is you?

008 my little sunshine

009 yes finally progress

010 character development

011 prolly not

012 live tweeing

taglist: @roavinza @needywwon @woninlove @cokewithcameron @itsglitt @lilisznq @areikii @hyyhwriter @chocoblogs @clowpjm @sievenderz @enhaxlhs @natainred @rikishu @shaiimuraaa @love4yubin @4myseven @yangw0ni3 @swo07sh @strwbysunoo @dina-10s-blog @bestboileeknow @mfcherry @ni-kimyman4real @jungwonsrealwife1 (comment if u wanna be added or removed!)