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i2ycat · 2 days

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Trouble is a Band

synopsis being in a band was all you ever wanted, and so when you were able to fly across the globe to join your brother’s high school band, you jumped at the opportunity to show everyone everything that you’ve got. singing in a band? check. performing in front of a crowd? check. falling in love with your brother’s best friend, who is in a complicated relationship with one of your fellow bandmates? check?

pairing park jongseong x fem!reader genre high school!au, kind of band!au, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, brothers best friend trope, slow burn-ish? word count 7.5k warnings implied sexual relationships (there’s no smut), kind of an implied fwb situation, liking someone who is taken(??), mentions of toxic relationships, bitchy character lol, cursing, kissing, nicknames (princess, baby), semi-proofread, lmk if i missed anything else lyn speaking i’ve been writing this for like 2 months and even lost sleep over this, the real ones know ☝🏻 idk why but this was much harder to write compared to my heeseung one… and this is not my best work, wouldn’t say i’m entirely proud of this i’m ngl so i won’t be too surprised if this flops </3 also this got me thinking ab jay and guitars wayyyy too much main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

“Are the schools here always up a damn hill?” You heave out an exasperated pant, your legs burning from the early morning cardio you definitely weren’t prepared for, or even expecting for that matter.

The summer sun is so unforgiving that in under ten minutes, you’ve become such a sweaty mess that you’re furiously sweating from every possible angle; your uniform practically drenched from your back and underarm areas. A layer of perspiration sheens the expanse of your forehead and it results in you resembling something the likes of Abby from Chicken Little as individual strands of hair stuck to it like glue.

You look over at an unbothered Jake with his hair still perfectly intact and looking as if he had just walked out of Vogue magazine. You scoff at this.

The only things you and Jake had in common were having the same last names, a slight similarity in facial structures, and maybe a shared interest in band music but that was about it. You’ve had totally different upbringings up until now, with you having lived in France while he was in Australia, and soon after, in Sokor. You were apart for most of your childhood, only seeing each other for vacations and special occasions, like that one time Aunt Jung had her outdoor wedding in Barcelona and you’d met Jake and your mother at the airport out of pure coincidence.

But despite the distance, it didn’t deter the both of you from being as close as you guys are, still making the effort to talk almost every day, even if you were drained from school. You remembered nights when you would call up Jake just to rant to him about boys — yes, multiple — you were talking to while he ate lunch on the other side of the world.

However, other than just being brought up differently, you guys were total opposites. If Jake was known to be the golden retriever with his high energy, bright smiles, and friendly dispositions, then you would be considered the chihuahua — closed-off and somewhat sarcastic. You didn’t have a social circle as expansive as Jake's because you liked to be alone. People have always told you that you had this brooding aura about you, and you could never tell if they were complimenting or insulting you.

“You get used to it,” Jake simply shrugs, adjusting the straps of his bag in a manner that did not mirror yours in any capacity. It was ridiculous how not even a single drop of sweat was in sight. “Now hurry it up! If we walk any slower, we might actually be late.” He drags you by the arm, to which you inwardly groan, already regretting the fact that you transferred to a pseudo-gym of a school in the dead of summer.

—

Transferring to an entirely different school system definitely posed itself as an inevitable challenge at first, but even then, half a day passed you by uncharacteristically fast. It might have been because you were sleeping through the majority of your morning classes, unable to totally grasp or get used to your supposed mother tongue just yet, that made time pass seemingly faster.

That, coupled with the fact you never functioned properly in the morning in the first place thanks to your night owl tendencies.

You’d spent most of your life conversing in either English or French, rendering your skills in your own mother tongue to an intermediate level at best. You could, at the very least, listen and understand it to a certain degree but not speak it as well as Jake does. You were only able to communicate with simple sentences and the few swear words and phrases your father used whenever he was lecturing you.

A day before your flight back home, you’d even attempted to touch up on your language skills with the help of your father and a facetimed version of your brother and mother, but it was already too late then. You were a lost cause. You definitely don’t blame your parents for your inability to speak the language, but rather, you blame your own lack of enthusiasm to learn it on your own in the first place.

“Y/n, right?” You rub the sleepiness from your eyes away as your gaze averts to the girl standing in front of your desk. She, with her neatly braided hair and black rims, sported a welcoming smile that gave you the impression of a class president. Maybe she was; you haven’t been paying attention to anything the teacher said since this morning.

You slowly nod, “Yeah, I am.”

“I’m Mia, the class vice president.” Okay, so your guess wasn’t entirely off the mark. You were only missing a word.

“Hi.” You purse your lips into a tight-lipped smile, unknowing of what to say next and silently wishing that your brother would come get you faster. Why did his classroom have to be so far from yours? Did the administration really think you could handle all this on your own?

In the painful silence, you were sure that this Mia girl could sense the awkwardness radiating from you with the way she’s trying so hard to keep the conversation afloat, probably thinking that you’re an introvert that doesn’t like approaching people first — which if it was any other day she would’ve be right on the money on but all you wanted right now was to be left alone to your own thoughts. You were still suffering from jet lag and time differences, and those two combined ran your social battery dry.

“Where’d you transfer from?”

“France.”

“You’re french?”

“No, I just moved there really young.”

“I see,” she said, nodding her head as if she were deep in thought. “I’ve always wanted to go to France.”

“It’s nice there.”

“So, can you speak-”

Before she can even finish her question, a blaring bang coming from the front door reverberates in your almost empty homeroom, save for yourself, Mia, and a group of friends in the back with their homemade lunches. You almost dropped to your knees to thank the heavens for hearing your prayers as you watched your brother's figure stand there, taking a moment to catch his breath as if he’d just finished running a marathon.

“Hey, Jake!” You damn near winced at Mia’s drastic change of voices in your brother’s presence. You were sure she had a deeper voice just a few seconds earlier, even having the same mezzo tone as you do. It definitely raised a few brows, but you weren’t the type to judge people too quickly, and you didn’t want to think that about such a sweet-looking girl.

Maybe she just had a crush on your brother; whatever it was, your senses were telling you that they were currently not in favour of Mia’s presence.

"Oh, hey, Mi. I see you’ve met my sister.” Jake acknowledges her before turning to you and saying, “Come on, we've got to go meet the others.” He beckons you towards him with a nod of his head, to which you happily oblige, just thankful that you don’t need to go through the rest of lunch with any more of Mia’s interrogation-style questioning.

You follow your brother after handing Mia a terse goodbye, attempting to at least have an amiable smile on your face in the process.

Even if Mia had more things she wanted to ask you, she put them aside on the backburner for a later date. Instead, opting to just wave you and Jake off with the same friendly grin she always has on.

When you’re out of earshot, making quick work to slide the door close behind you, you make your way beside Jake in quick strides. “You know her?”

“Obviously. Why?”

“Nothing.” You shrug the feelings of uncertainty off, not having the energy to try and dig anything up on the first day of school. “You said we’re meeting the others?”

“Yeah, my friends, you’ve seen them. They heard you were transferring here and really wanted to meet you.”

From the number of times you’ve called Jake during his school hours, you were bound to interact with a few of his friends, mainly the three youngest of the group: Jungwon, Sunoo, and Riki. There would even be times he’d leave you alone with his friends while he went for a toilet break, and when he’d come back, you'd already be three months into the storyline with your then-current situationship.

You were obviously excited to finally meet them after only having talked to them via Jake’s phone. Throughout the four years, you’d like to think that you’ve created a connection with some of the boys, given that they already know so much about your life and you know theirs. The older ones, not so much, despite being much closer in age ranges.

Out of the four oldest, you’ve only managed to properly talk to Sunghoon. It was when you were on call crying to your brother about the fourth boy of the month, and Sunghoon just so happened to be going home with Jake that day. He’d eavesdropped on your conversation and offered you some advice, explaining that he had a sister of his own, as if that gave him the certification needed to meddle in your affairs.

You didn’t even know he was with Jake, let alone hearing you bawl your eyes out, blowing into copious amounts of tissues included, until he started going off about how boys are scary and that you shouldn’t trust them so easily. It startled you, almost making you scream, but you were grateful for his brotherly advice either way.

When the two of you finally make it towards the other end of the sixth floor, Jake slides the door to his homeroom open, and you’re immediately greeted with the view of six boys scattered around the empty classroom, a few having acoustic guitars and drumsticks in hand. This may sound cringy, but it reminded you of that one scene from Lemonade Mouth, where everyone was in the detention room and just communicating through the music. Except you weren’t in a detention room, and instead of singing, mindless chatter filled the space.

You’ve always daydreamed about being in a band, even going as far as attempting to create one of your own, but keyword: attempt. You obviously failed at doing so in your previous school because nobody likes being in bands nowadays, and your brother, knowing this, instantly jumped at the idea of adding you as their newest member.

He’d already gone through the logistics a week before you even officially transferred, coercing everyone in the band to agree to your addition, but truth be told, it didn’t even take that much toiling since everyone was just excited to finally meet you, and they'd already heard about how talented you are thanks to Jake’s endless bragging.

“She’s here!” Jake announces, prompting everyone to halt whatever it was they were doing and immediately jump at the sight of you gracing their homeroom entryway.

“Y/n!” Jungwon, Sunoo, and Riki are the first ones to capture you in a big embrace, effectively squishing you under their hold. Is this what people feel when they finally meet an online friend?

The mixture of fulfilment and excitement bubbling inside you was hard to maintain levelled, spilling out of you in the form of a grin that extended from ear to ear. You considered these three your babies at this point, wanting to spoil and shower them with as much love and affection as an actual mother would. It didn’t matter if you were only a few months older than them, that’s wasn’t the point.

When you’re released from their embrace, you can finally see the rest standing there with a cordial expression plastered over their features. You must admit, you’ve always thought that Jake’s friends were all attractive and had a relative charm to them, but it’s even more apparent now that you’ve met them in real life. With their tall stature and undeniable talent, you could only imagine the long line of girls waiting for them.

As you start to scan the boys one by one, you catch yourself gravitating towards Jay. He’s donning the school uniform, the same exact ones that the rest are, but he makes it so uniquely his by unbuttoning it to show the black shirt underneath and cuffing the sleeves until it reaches his forearms.

From the plethora of Instagram stories you’ve seen about Jay, you knew that Jay was into fashion and occasionally designed the outfits the guys wore onto stage. And as a fashion guru yourself, you applauded his impeccable style, finding yourself in constant awe of the effortless aura and innate ability for fashion that he possessed.

It also didn’t help that he was totally up your alley in terms of physical attractiveness. The others were pretty and charming in their own way, yes, but Jay had you hooked the moment Jake posted that photo of him fresh out of the beach, with tan skin and wet hair, looking like a damn Greek god.

Did you mention that you’ve also watched an unhealthy amount of videos of Jay playing the guitar? Because you have and it made getting attracted to him so much easier. Even through the screen, you could just tell that he was in his element, like he was born to perform as the passion he had for the instrument oozed out. Everything about him was just so mesmerising; you’re sure that you’re not the only one who sees that.

The timeline is blurry but from then on, you’d developed a small, insignificant crush on him, one that you didn’t bother mentioning to your brother because you were scared he would force you to act on it, even when you weren’t sure if you liked him enough to want to date him. You haven’t even properly met the guy at that point.

To you, it was simply an attraction. One that you’d get over in about a month because it’s what you always do.

“Hey, guys.” You wave.

“You’re awfully shorter than I thought you would be.” Riki says this from beside you, silently mocking you for all the times you’ve challenged him about his height.

“Of course you would say that.” You playfully roll your eyes. “You’re obsessed with your height, Riks; we get it.”

"Okay, back off, guys. That’s my little sister you guys are hogging.” Jake shoos the younger boys away with a flick of his hand, to which they dejectedly comply, making way for you to enter further into the classroom. “What was on our agenda again? Right, Y/n’s position in the band.”

“We could use another guitarist.” Sunoo muses, with Jungwon and Sunghoon silently agreeing on the side.

“Nah, we already have Jay and you for that.” Your brother shakes his head. “Wait, speaking of Jay, where’s Jiwon? You said she’d be here when I came back.” At this, all eyes shift towards Jay, who simply shrugs.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t tell me you guys are having a lover's quarrel again.” Heeseung sighs. Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of Jay, Jiwon, and a lover's quarrel in the same sentence. Confusion starts to pervade your stomach.

Huh? When did they start dating? You thought Jiwon was only a close friend.

You’ve only ever heard of Jiwon, not once seeing her face in Jake’s stories or any of the others. All the information you had on her was that she was the same age as you and played the keys for the band. Jungwon, Sunoo, and Riki mentioned her once or twice, but it was more of them complaining about her. Other than that, it was as if her existence evaded you completely.

“The third one this month, mind you.” Riki quips.

“It’s only the second week of the month, though.” Jake’s mouth gapes at the fact that his best friend is still willing to go through such a toxic relationship, or whatever it was, even when she limits the people around him until she’s the only one left in his life, when they constantly fight over the smallest things, or even when she encourages him to drop his best friends. He doesn’t understand what’s so good about Jiwon that’s got Jay under her spell, and he doesn’t want to know either.

“Can we just drop it?”

Your brother puts his hands up in defeat and says, “Whatever you say, bro.”

An awkward air of silence starts to permeate the air, and by now, you’re sure someone could cut through the tension with a knife.

You clear your throat before saying, “Is it okay if I’m just a singer?” in an attempt to divert the conversation back to its original agenda, which thankfully works because the others start talking, adding in their own thoughts here and there. And by the time lunch ends, you’re officially set as the band’s lead singer and lyricist.

Finding out about Jay and Jiwon’s relationship made you realise just how little you know about these guys, only having talked to them through FaceTime and watching them live their lives through snippets of Jake’s Instagram.

The warmth and familiarity you were initially met with made you completely forget that you only officially met these guys today. They were all, to some extent, still strangers to you.

—

A few hours of school turned into two weeks, and two weeks into a month. By now, you’ve gotten more than used to everyone’s dynamics and energy, though it was still a little too high for you at times. You were thankful that your brother was there whenever you couldn’t communicate your feelings and thoughts as well as you wanted to, and for the rest for being so understanding.

All of this was a dream come true for you, truly. Ever since your father introduced you to the world of music, you’ve dreamt of being in a band yourself, singing your own songs in front of people, and feeling the music course through you as you stand on the stage.

But no matter how much you wanted to saturate your mind with happier, less confusing thoughts, it always seemed to circle back to the same thing: Jay and Jiwon.

Over the course of a month, you’ve managed to interact with Jiwon on several occasions, each lasting around a minute. They consisted of mostly quick pleasantries, instructions, and the rare ‘how are you’s? She wasn’t cold but not entirely friendly either, which you totally get because it’s not like you were any different.

Throughout the majority of the breaks in between practice sessions, she stuck by Jay’s side, engaging in playful and flirtatious banter that the boys would secretly roll their eyes at. You’d asked your brother why everyone seemed to not like seeing Jay and Jiwon together, but he simply shrugged you off, leaving you with even more questions.

“Hey, Y/n.” You look up from your notebook to see Mia, who you’ve wrongly assumed was a pick-me at first, cheerfully greeting you.

Somewhere along the line, she’d bashfully admitted to you that she liked your brother. It definitely explained the change in personalities and voices whenever he was around, but it didn’t make you want to recoil any less. She was a good-natured girl who hated letting anyone down, so when she asked for a favour from you — one that involved you setting her up with your brother — there was just no way you could decline. If she wanted to date your brother, you would happily aid her in that.

Which brought you to a now-blooming friendship.

“Hi, Mi.” You managed to reciprocate her energy.

“You’re having band practice today, right?” She asks with a tilt of her head, to which you nod. A beat passes before she bites her lip in anticipation. “Is it okay if I come watch?”

From the way her eyes glowed with hope, you could immediately tell that she only had one mission in mind: to see Jake. “You’re not being very discreet with this,” you chuckle, endeared by her amateurish antics. “But, sure. Practice starts at 4.” Hearing this, she immediately clasps her hand into yours, thanking you as if you just saved her entire bloodline.

She leaves you to your own accord not soon after being called by the teacher, “I’ll be there!”

With twenty minutes to spare and no one to spend it with, seeing as your brother was busy with lunch detention and your three babies had a student council meeting to attend to, you decided to make your merry way towards the practice room with your notebook in hand.

Pushing the door open, the view of Jay playing the guitar by the window warmly greets you. You're awestruck by the way he strums the chords so effortlessly, filling your ears with the most beautiful progressions you’ve ever heard, like it was heaven’s sonata. You would’ve loved to just stand there all day and relish in the intimate moment he’s created in the dingy room, but it only takes a few seconds before Jay inevitably notices your figure by the door.

“Y/n?”

“Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be here right now.” You take a step back, ready to shut the door close behind you, but before you could move even an inch, Jay refused, instead asking you if you could keep him company. “You want me to stay?”

“I mean, why not?” He pats the space beside him and scoots over.

Your steps are hesitant, somehow alarmed by the prospects of Pandora's box in your heart breaking open the moment you decide to sit next to him. But it was just a simple, friendly act, so what could possibly go wrong here? You push those thoughts away and plop yourself on the cushioned window seat, leaving just enough space between you and him.

“So, why are you here?” He asks you as he carefully sets the guitar back on the floor.

“Everyone else was busy,” You could feel Jay’s intense watch on you, and you couldn’t help but feel the burning sensation on your skin. Just being in his presence alone was already making you feel hot; your cheeks were heating up in the process. “How about you?” You just wanted him to stop looking at you, because you wouldn’t know what to do if he noticed just how he was making you feel.

“Me?” He hums. “I guess I just wanted some peace and quiet.”

“Oh, am I disturbing your peace and quiet? I could leave right now.”

“You don’t have to be so antsy. I’m not going to bite you, ya’know?” He chuckles, clearly amused by your response. “And besides, you’re giving me peace by just being here.”

“I see.” You nod slowly as you bite your lip in an attempt to get a better hold of your nerves. There was absolutely no need to be so nervous around your brother’s best friend.

“I just realised something,”

“What?” You shift in your seat to get a better look at him.

“This is the first time we’ve ever had a one-on-one talk.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.” You retort, and he raises an eyebrow at this.

“What do you mean by that?” His head tilts at an angle, looking at you with those deep-set eyes of his. You can try to deny it all you want, but the skip in your heartbeat is hard to mistake; it’s not a feeling you’re stranger to.

“I don’t know; you never seem to talk with anyone else other than Jiwon during practice, so it’s no wonder we’ve never actually talked before.”

“Wow, you’re sounding a little salty there.” Jay’s lips form a lopsided smirk after noticing the defensive expression that adorned your features. “Nah, I’m just toying with you.” The airy laugh he lets out does little to nothing to soothe the chaos that ensues in your heart and mind.

“For your information, I am not salty. It’s just a bummer that you never really tried forming a closer friendship with anyone else in the band.”

“It’s not that I haven’t tried." He mumbles.

“Sorry?”

He shakes his head and says, “It’s nothing.”

A comfortable silence engulfs the air between both of you before Jay continues, “Hey, since you’re so salty about me not giving you my attention, how about I buy you ice cream tomorrow?”

“First of all, I am not salty. And second of all, it wasn’t that-”

"So, is it a no?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “If you admit that I’m not salty, then maybe I’ll agree to it.”

“You’re not really in the position to be giving me a challenge, seeing as I’m the one offering you free food,” he bites down a simper. “But fine, your highness, I hereby declare you not salty.” He adds a curt bow for the dramatics, and you can’t help but roll your eyes in faux annoyance.

“You’re so annoying.” You huff out.

“If you’re going to be in our band, you’re going to need more tolerance and patience than that.”

You could feel yourself slowly letting your guard down in Jay’s presence. The playful and witty banter he offered you made you feel like you’ve known him longer than you actually do, and it felt nice.

It felt almost too nice to be around him. But like everything else in your life, this feeling too shall pass. He has a girlfriend, for Christ's sake. So you better make sure that it will.

—

With your head resting on your hand, you silently watched the busy street beside you. When you first came to Korea, it was summer, but now that the leaves were starting to turn orange little by little, you could tell that it was nearing your favourite season of the year — autumn. To you, everything felt just a little more romantic under the autumn leaves and the cool breeze that hangs in the air.

“Were you waiting long?” Jay’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you quickly shake your head. “Sorry, Ji wanted me to teach her this riff on the guitar.” He pulls the seat out in front of you to sit, and you take the opportunity to sneak a longing glance at him: tousled hair, swollen lips, an untucked collar. It definitely looked like he did more than just teach her chords, but you bite your tongue.

It was none of your business.

“Did you order already?” He flips through the menu of desserts.

“No, I was going to, but I realised I didn’t know what flavours you liked.”

“Sorry,” He passes you a sheepish smile. “I’m going to go on a whim here and guess that you like Rocky Road.”

You raise an impressed brow. “How’d you know?”

“I just know you like that.”

“We’ve known each other for 3 weeks, Jay.”

“Okay, damn. You really do wound me,” a hand raises to his chest, feigning hurt. “Okay, now you guess what flavour I like.”

You ponder over for a while but decide to just settle on the most basic flavour of all, “Vanilla?” His face visibly falters at your answer; you could almost make out a pout forming on his kiss-bitten lips.

“Wow, I could tell the amount of thought you put into that.” His sarcastic claps boom throughout the modest ice cream parlour, earning him dirty looks from the few customers at the neighbouring tables.

“So you don’t like vanilla?”

He crosses his arms and asks, “What do you think?”

“Ugh, this conversation is going nowhere; go order it yourself.” You groan out, rising on your feet to order on your own.

“Calm down, princess; I’ll go order it.” Before you could protest, he'd already made a beeline for the cashier.

Princess? That was new. Oh, who were you kidding? All of this was fucking new.

A feeling of internal turmoil starts to bubble violently, like a seething kettle waiting to be opened. You hated how he was so nonchalant about everything. And you hated how he unknowingly made you feel things you shouldn’t feel. It felt awfully wrong on so many levels, but this thing was just a friendly gesture, a payback, if you will. There was nothing wrong with hanging out with your brother’s best friend on a Thursday evening, even if you held an underlying attraction for said friend, right?

“Here, one Rocky Road for your highness, and one good ol’ vanilla ice cream for her loyal servant.”

“So you do like vanilla ice cream,” you scoff.

“I never said I didn’t.” He shrugged. “Woah, this might actually be the best vanilla I’ve ever tasted. Try it!” He scoops a chunk out for you to taste, which you politely decline. There was a certain line you didn’t want to cross, no matter how insignificant and innocent the gesture might’ve been. Maybe you were thinking too hard, but it would’ve been weird for you to share an indirect kiss with a taken man, even if he was your brother’s best friend. “Hm, your loss then.”

The both of you remained in silence with the dulcet melodies of Wave to Earth playing in the background, and it served as a pleasant companion to the overly complicated noise in your head, all caused by the boy sitting a few feet from you.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Jay’s voice pulls you out of your own mind, causing you to look up at him expectantly. “You have a really beautiful voice.” His warm smile shoots you in the heart, right where you know it shouldn’t. It was just a simple compliment, one that you’ve heard plenty of times before, yet it sounded so good coming from him. It almost made you want to keep proving yourself to him so you could keep hearing him praise you like that.

“Thank you,” You bite the insides of your cheek as a way to chide yourself. Just why were you so easily affected by everything he says and does?

“I really want you to sing this song I’m writing. I mean, I’m not totally done yet, but I wrote it with your voice in mind. It’s for the upcoming music festival.” He pulls out his phone and earphones from his pocket, sliding his chair closer to yours and offering an earpiece, which you cautiously take.

You straighten your back in an effort to keep yourself focused, not wanting to mind the way his shoulders are pushed up against yours, or the way you could practically make out every single feature on his face, or the fact that you would’ve felt his breath fan against your face if he turned even just a bit to the left. You needed to physically force yourself to focus solely on the music.

Don’t mind the confusion.

The sense of focusing.

The only sure thing is you.

So now, put it all behind.

I’m just going to walk according to how my heart beats.

Fatal trouble.

Jay’s voice fills your ears, alongside Jungwon and Sunghoon’s. You could appreciate their heavenly voices all day, but the striking lyrics seemed to be the main reason for taking your breath away. It sounded as if they were speaking to your troubled thoughts right in the face, slithering around you to tempt you into falling deeper. Deeper into what? You didn’t want to even think about it.

"So, what do you think?”

“It's... it’s good.”

“That’s it?”

“What did you want me to say?”

“No need to get so feisty, princess.” He ruffles your hair, and you sigh, feeling the overwhelming defeat take over you because, no matter how much you wanted to fight the feeling, you knew that all your efforts would come crashing down anyway.

You were a weak woman with many faults, and being attracted to someone who is so painfully taken is the biggest one of them all.

—

With only a few weeks left until the school’s music festival, it’s no surprise that everyone has been on edge, but particularly so with Jay and Jiwon. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell they were going through a rough patch in their relationship right now, made apparent by the abnormal amount of distance between them and the lack of flirtatious banter filling the room.

Every practice session was filled with the suffocating tension that made practicing so much more exhausting, and Jake had had enough of it.

“I know you guys are having yet another lover's quarrel, but can you guys quit it? We have a festival coming up, and we can’t afford to have both of your immature asses fucking this up for us.” Your brother’s stern voice shakes the entire room. He was usually never the one to get mad at people, so it felt unusual to see this side of Jake.

“We’re not lovers,” Jiwon retorts as her fingers mindlessly hover over the keys on the keyboard. She tilts her head at Jay and says, “He made very sure of that.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter what the fuck you guys are or not; I just need you guys to keep it civil for the sake of our performance, if not our team.”

“Oh, fuck off. As if you guys have ever even tried keeping it civil with me,” Jiwon seethes, the dark chuckle of complete disbelief she lets out hanging heavy in the air. “Yeah, I see the way you guys roll your eyes at me, and I hear the way you guys bitch about me behind my back too. I’m not fucking blind, Jake.”

You could see the way everyone shifts uncomfortably in their spots, and you can’t help but do so too.

“Quit it, Ji.” Jay’s attempts at getting Jiwon’s rampage to stop proved futile, as it only spurred her on.

“Shut up, Jay. I know the only reason you refuse to make it official is because you started liking your best friend’s little sister over me.” As soon as she dropped the bomb, all eyes darted towards Jay, who only stared at Jiwon. His jaw ticks in what you could only surmise as vexation, with the evidence of it starting to sprawl across his features. “What, baby? Cat got your tongue?” Jiwon sneers.

“Jiwon, if you’re not going to contribute anything to the band, you can just go home.” Sunghoon speaks as he points to the exit.

“I was planning to anyway,” she says, picking up her bag from the floor. “I am so fucking done with this, and you guys are all fucked.” With that, the door behind Jiwon shuts with a deafening bang.

The eight of you remain frozen in your spots with the shock of it all coursing through your veins like a hot iron. You needed a minute or two to even begin to assimilate whatever the fuck just went down.

When she said that Jay liked you over her, she meant it as a friend, right? There’s no way it meant anything more than that, right? Why does he keep confusing you? Why did he have to have your heart right in the palm of his hand? You felt your head start to pound the more you thought about it, and you just wanted to escape from it all.

—

Life since you joined your brother’s band has been everything you’ve ever imagined and more. You were finally able to meet people you called your family; you were able to sing your heart away on stages the way you always wanted to; and you were able to feel alive in a way you couldn’t when you were in France. But it didn’t stop there. You fell in love — a little too hard at that — and now you were suffering the consequences of that.

You had a track record for falling in love way too easily with people, as evident by your long list of situationships turned relationships, so when you found yourself staring at Jay for a bit too long, you weren’t entirely alarmed because you knew you’d be able to get over it in a few weeks. It was no biggie, or so you thought.

After Jiwon’s official departure from the band, the overall atmosphere had lifted and everyone was back to their normal selves; Sunoo and Sunghoon were back to bickering, and Jungwon and Riki were back to hogging you. Heeseung occasionally joined in sessions despite the senior duties that called for his presence. Jake and Jay, on the other hand, were preparing diligently for the festival, working on the song non-stop. It’s because of that that you haven’t been seeing either of them lately, which you were thankful for because it gave you time to really think. Think about whether Jay liked you as a friend or in a romantic sense.

“You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?” Mia nudges you in the arm. She knows you like the back of her hand at this point, given the amount of time she’s spent at your practices. It’s thanks to your cupid skills that your brother and her have been spending much more time together inside and out of the practice room, and despite either of them telling you that they’re just friends, you know better than that.

You sigh, knowing that it’s no use lying to her. “Is it that obvious?”

"Oh, baby, it’s written all over your face.” Her neatly manicured fingers push loose strands of hair out of your face just before squishing your cheeks in an endearing manner. “Talk to me about it.”

“Ugh, I don’t know.” She gives you a knowing look. “It’s just... that I liked him for so long, thinking that he was taken, and I felt so fucking guilty for it. Then the whole ‘Jiwon leaving’ thing happened, and now I’m all confused. Honestly, there hasn’t been a moment where Jay hasn’t confused me. Everything he says and does just makes me want to scream, ‘What the fuck are we!’ but I know he’s just doing it because we’re friends or whatever.

I mean, he literally calls me princess. How does he not expect me to not feel things? It’s so damn frustrating. I thought I would be able to get over these feelings before winter started, but here we are in the dead of winter, and I’m still helplessly pining over my brother’s best friend, like a damn loser.”

Everything you’ve been holding since you transferred here finally threatens to spill out, and by now, you just couldn’t help the tears from lining your eyes and your throat from constricting.

“Oh, my Y/n.” She embraces you in a hug and connects her forehead with yours; it only eggs you on to fully succumb to your emotions, and so tears become full-fledged sobs. “It’s okay, let it all out.” Her voice, along with her hand ministering to gently soothe your back, lulls you.

Until you’re left only as a sniffling mess, she continues to caress your back. “Thank you, Mi. I really appreciate it.”

“I’m always here for you,” She squeezes you one last time for good measure before letting go of you. “Now, we need a plan for you to get your man.”

“No, we do not.”

“You did it for me, so it’s only fair if I return the favour.”

“I don’t even know if he likes me like that,” you exhale for what seems like the nth time this month.

“Then we’ll make sure he does. Simple as that,” she claps her hand. “Boys fall for anything, so if he doesn’t already like you, he will anyway, because just look at you! You’re stunning, funny, kind, talented, and so so so much more. Believe me when I say that, Y/n.” Her features soften even further as she shares a look of sympathy with you.

Her words melt right through you, and you’d like to believe that you do hold the ability to make Jay fall for you.

—

Endless weeks of toiling had brought you all to this exact moment — d-day. You fidgeted with the microphone stand to try getting a better hold of your emotions because there was no way you would mess things up, not when you’ve all worked so hard for this.

The seats in front of you are filled to the brim, yet out of the hundreds of faces, you could only recognise a select few: your mom, Mia, and a few of the others’s family members.

Jay, who stood not too far behind you, could see the trembling in your legs. “You’ll do perfect; I know that because you were made for this.” He whispers in your ear, squeezing your hands in the process. You’ve never wanted anything more than to just kiss the boy for being so damn near perfect — everything you could’ve asked for and more — but he wasn’t yours to kiss, so you heed those thoughts away, instead simply nodding your head.

“Hello, we are ENHYPEN, and we’ll be performing an original song called ‘Fatal Trouble.’” Jake’s voice echoes throughout the school hall, with claps following shortly after, just before it falls back to a silent abyss.

Sunghoon’s keys fill the empty air before you start, “Can’t believe. You, in front of my eyes, everything is the same. But your smile is one I don’t know. Your pupils are like an abyss.” You shut your eyes, letting your emotions lace through each and every word you sing.

As soon as Sunoo and Jay’s electric guitars and Riki’s drums joined in on the melody, you could physically feel the shift in the air. It brought goosebumps to your skin watching people gape at you in awe and watching their eyes twinkle against the stage lights.

“Fatal trouble. It’s getting blurry. The memory of you is crumbling down.” Heeseung and Jungwon’s lower voice harmonises with your higher one, creating the most heavenly of harmonies to echo across the expanse of the hall. It felt so electrifying to finally be able to see the fruits of all your hard work. You’re happy you got to perform with these boys side by side.

By the time the instrumentals fade to complete silence, your heart roars against your chest like a lion so hard you can practically hear them in your ears. You all take time to thank the audience before heading backstage, where you all instantly huddle together.

“We did so well!” Sunoo beams.

“For all our hard work, I say we go drinking after this,” Heeseung suggests with a motion of his hand, to which the others instantly agree.

“Drinks are on me!” You chuckle as you watch your overly excited brother raise his arm like a puppy. You of all people know just how hard he exerted himself just for this performance, if the dark circles under his eyes were anything to go by, so you’re just happy to finally see him be himself again.

Cheers and hoots are heard throughout the backstage area until the staff politely asks you to leave. Before you could even follow the rest past the door, Jay’s call to you stopped you in your tracks.

“You did well out there,” he compliments with a sheepish smile, and it does the same thing it always does to you — make you fall even harder. You were so damn weak for him. “I knew you would kill it.”

“You did too, considering it is your song.” He steps a foot closer to you, and despite the hitch in your throat, you don’t do much to shy away. Jay takes this as a sign to be more forthright with you. He takes your hand in his, tracing circles with his thumb along the backside of your hand.

“I wrote this song for you. It wasn’t just your voice that inspired me to write this song; it was your smile, the way you made me feel, and the warmth you gave. So, technically, it’s our song.” The boyishness in his tone is obvious, almost like he was scared to admit this to you in the first place.

“I-…” You’re rendered speechless at his insinuation, feeling the familiar giddiness starting to spread across your body. “Are you confessing to me right now?” His deep eyes hold yours, staring at you with such admiration and intensity that you feel like you could cry.

“Yes, I am, princess.” His voice was nothing short of a whisper. You could see the way he eyes your lips, and so without much contemplation, or even hesitation for that matter, you take the first step in your newfound relationship by trapping him in a kiss. Further closing in the distance between you, your arms travel around his neck while his hands find purchase in your waist.

As breathless as you felt, you couldn’t let him go — not when this is all you’ve ever wanted for so long. Months of seeing him with Jiwon and hopelessly pining over him brought you to this moment, and you were going to let yourself relish the fuck out of it.

taglist @enhaslay @channiesdarling @kim2005bomi @letwiiparkjay

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 5 hours

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≡;-꒰ 𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐇 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑩𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏 𝑨𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏

╰┈➤ ❝ jeremiah x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : pwp (with plot), porn with feelings, past relationship trauma (see: toxic relationship, slight implications of mental and physical abuse), reader with insecurities (self-worth, relationship), angst ish?, hurt/comfort, kissing and making out, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, soft sex, dirty talk, praise, cursing, use of nicknames "pretty" "princess" "milady/my lady", lmk if i missed any tags! ((unedited))

wc : 5k+

taglist : @spotted-salamander @darlingdummycassandra @thoupenguinman (sign up here!!)

an : a lot softer and less... explicit? than the rest of my works i have on here?? but happy june guys, have my compensation for not including jem in the youtiful lineup <3

Thinking all love ever does is break, and burn, and end; but on a Wednesday, in a café—you watched it begin again.

The walk home was always tedious.

You passed this way every night; it was always quiet. Nothing but the click clack of your heels against the pavement would echo, the streets devoid of life as they usually were, especially at this hour. It didn’t bother you. It never did. Even the rhythmic buzz of the lamplights were familiar to you, little lulls of comfort that were always welcome.

It was lonely, usually.

You were used to it that way.

But it was different tonight.

You leaned against the warmth to your side, his arm on your waist drawing you close. He chuckled, almost as if he found your more obvious display of affection a little endearing, and then he responded in kind—a soft, barely-there kiss over the top of your head, just enough to remind you fully of his presence.

“Still a little far?” came his voice. And the soft shake of your head caught another whiff of his cologne, that grounding, earthy scent mixing well with the smell of flowers you’d come to associate him with.

It made you smile.

“Just a couple of blocks ahead. But… thanks for, you know. Going out of your way to walk me home, and all. You really didn’t have to…”

You didn’t look at him, but you could almost hear the raise of his eyebrow as he spoke; “What? Of course I’d walk you home! Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me not to make sure my date gets home safely, right!?”

He sounded bewildered that you would even ask such a thing, and you laughed. A genuine laugh. One that you hadn’t had in quite some time.

“I know, I know. I’m just used to this route, that’s all. I come home at this hour on most days, so it’s nothing new to me…”

“Hey, hey. Come on. I wouldn’t leave a pretty girl like you all alone, especially not after we’ve just had dinner. Cut me some slack, won’t you? Let me spoil you a little bit, maybe I just… want this date to last a little longer.”

His voice seemed to soften the more he spoke, and as your steps slowed down—almost as if in response to him—he turned to look at you.

“Everything okay?”

That his first instinct was concern for your wellbeing made you blink in surprise.

“Huh?” you hadn’t even noticed the way you’d slowed down, the sting against your heel much more obvious now than it had been at the start of your date. You didn’t mean, either, for your gaze to shift down, maybe testing a couple of your steps—

“Oh… Is it your heels? Do your feet hurt?”

Jeremiah was observant.

His voice came out a lot gentler than it had been, and he immediately pulled you over to the side. “Not much further, right? I can carry you, if you want. That way you wouldn’t have to trouble yourself too much…”

There was something like a sense of hesitation that passed in your eyes. Perhaps, you hadn’t noticed it yourself—not until you turned your head away from him, gaze drifting a little off to the side.

A beat, and then; “...Okay,” you sighed, giving in. “But, I…”

He crouched down, barely giving you much time to react, helping you over his back. He was much warmer like this. Much closer to you. And you wrapped your arms around him, allowing yourself to revel a little more in the moment. The floral scent was much stronger, too, up close, the way you were. Reminiscent of how long he’d work in the shop for a day; of how much time spent around the plants he cared for so tenderly. You recalled how he mentioned he could never get the scents out from him completely, but you liked it.

It was comforting.

You buried your face into his hair for a moment as he walked.

“...Sorry,” you mumbled out next. Your chin rest against his head, looking out into the lamplit path before you. “I don’t mean to trouble you. I won’t wear heels next time…”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

He glanced back, turning his head slightly, just enough to make brief eye-contact. “There’s nothing wrong with heels. Must’ve been tiring for you to walk in them this whole evening, so I get it. I don’t mind helping out a bit, you know? Besides…”

He paused, and you caught a glimpse of a smile.

“You look really pretty in them.”

Simple words that made your heart flutter.

Perhaps, words that you’d never heard directed to you yourself, not in this context.

And that was the first time—probably, the first in the longest while—that you’d ever felt so… loved.

And then there would be several more instances after that.

Simple things, too. Like the time he listened to your favorite song with you; new, and unfamiliar to him, but taken without judgement. Accepted with a cheerful smile.

You remembered that day.

The little speaker had been sounding out some music as the two of you moved around the kitchen. Flour in your hair, flour on his apron, hands busy molding the dough into those perfectly round shapes that gave you joy… A little hum, here and there, the casual bob of the head to the beat. In a lighthearted atmosphere, you simply enjoyed being in his presence. The love that both of you had for baking became a comfort in your relationship, any moment spent next to him that way was enough to chase most of your worries away.

But a shared playlist between the both of you also meant that there would be a couple of tracks tailored each to your own tastes—

Yours, you knew, were not always so… well-received.

“Oh? What’s this song?”

His ears had perked up at the very start of the tune, hands pausing if only to be able to get a closer listen.

It was reminiscent, almost; the image of it familiar. Because these were songs that they wouldn’t get. Songs you’d be forced to change; songs you’d be told to listen to alone—sometimes, oftentimes, you had to cater to the tastes of others. You’d taken a risk by putting the song on the playlist at all.

He could listen, and then…

“O-oh, that’s just… Um, you know. One of the songs from my side of the playlist…”

You’d laughed a little awkwardly, pausing, too, in your movements, only to dust off your hands and reach for your phone. “We could find something else!” was your immediate reaction, scrolling through the playlist, easily prepared to switch if need be.

And his reply would’ve been one to stick with you for quite some time.

“I don’t mind, you know,” his voice had softened, as if having noticed your shift in demeanor. For a moment it didn’t matter that the both of you were covered in all the mess that your baking session had caused, and he reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I think it’s a pretty cool song! I’ve… heard that sometimes the things people listen to say a lot about themselves. And I want to know more about you. So I’d listen to any kind of music that you would, too, princess.”

It was the first time he’d used the nickname with you.

You’d retaliated with a flick of leftover flour into his hair, but you smiled.

Typical Jeremiah.

The swirl of doubts that had settled into the pit of your stomach seemed less daunting—

And he would do it again.

He made sure that he would.

You’d never talked about it, not really—it wasn’t a topic you were ready to open just yet, but Jeremiah was patient.

He would love you, anyway.

Legs tangled with yours on the couch, hands running softly through your hair… He’d let you talk with him. You wouldn’t get reprimanded for speaking, even despite the movie playing on the TV, even despite whatever it was he’d be working on. The walls were less dividing, you felt a little bit more like… yourself.

You hadn’t, in a while.

And that night, he told you he loved you.

For the first time, as you drifted off to sleep, his lips against your forehead, soft murmurs of adoration into your hair… he told you he loved you.

And maybe it didn’t matter anymore, what happened in your past.

He made you want to believe again.

That this could work.

That this was worth it.

That he was worth it.

It was all you had thought about for several days; the what ifs.

The way you could crash and burn at the prospect of another cycle repeating—of letting your guard down, of letting him in, of all the uncertainties that came with diving in headfirst when you so desperately wanted to trust in him, only to fear what felt like an inevitable end. All fragrant perfumes as petals unfurl one by one, a sea of beautiful pinks and reds enough to blind you into their allure and have you bleed—you had always felt this way. Every rose had their thorns; and you’d just never learned to love… without them.

Never learned to love without the lies.

Never known how much to take before you realized enough was enough; never known how far to let them sink, how many cuts and scrapes and bruises you had to endure.

But Jeremiah made you want to believe.

That maybe this rose had thorns that wouldn’t be so skin deep. Maybe this rose was worth it; maybe this rose could be sweeter, a bed of roses, torture redistributed, something… different.

Jeremiah felt different.

You wanted to believe it.

You felt that you believed it.

And perhaps, that was why you wanted desperately not to mess things up.

The phone call was the last thing you remembered. His voice had been cheerful, particularly upbeat, no doubt looking forward to coming over once he was free—you checked the time, then, you remembered. He would have been over in a little more than an hour.

You’d fallen asleep.

The idea was to cook dinner; the idea was to be a little fancy—for all that he had been spoiling you, you only figured that you could return the favor as best as you could.

Clearly, things worked out much… differently. If you could still call it working out at all.

You woke up to a gentle shake of your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your forehead. His voice was soft in your ear when he spoke this time; “Hey, princess. You nap okay?”

Your eyes widened.

Your phone, clutched in your hand, held close to your chest, had been turned off—likely due to the fact that you’d forgotten to charge it, again.

“J-Jeremiah?” You were still a little groggy as you sat up to face him, barely registering the little smile on his face. In the moment, you couldn’t quite tell if he was trying to tease you; instead—the panic set in.

If he was here, and if he’d taken to waking you, that only meant that you weren’t able to prepare dinner at all.

And you knew that Jeremiah would most likely let it slide, you knew in your heart that he wasn’t upset.

But, perhaps, your natural response remained rooted in patterns of the past.

It was quick, almost—the way flashes of red seemed to cloud your mind for a moment as you jumped up, nearly bumping into him in the process, not at all processing the look of surprise that had formed on his face.

“Milady?” He’d called out tentatively.

“I— god, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to fall asleep! I know you’re coming home from a really long day, and we promised we’d have this dinner, and—shit— I-I’ll get something ready! Just give me a few moments, I promise I’ll—”

Rambling.

A habit you had developed very, very early on, and a habit you knew often lead to your own demise.

Jeremiah reached out as if to steady you, his brows knitted together in concern, his hand poised—

And you winced.

The physical recoil was nearly instantaneous.

You took a step back, shoulders tensed, face turned slightly to the side, almost as if bracing for something you knew would have been familiar to you.

“Princess, hey…”

It didn’t come.

Instead, Jeremiah inched closer, taking your hands into his, giving them a little squeeze.

“It’s alright,” he gave you a little nod, voice slow and gentle. It was enough encouragement to coax you to look back at him—and the love in his gaze made you draw in a breath.

“‘Miah,” you choked out, and you felt tears sting at your eyes.

“It’s okay, princess, look at me. You good? I’m not upset with you, you must’ve been tired, too… I feel a lot better knowing you got some rest, so don’t worry about dinner. We can just order something from outside.”

You almost couldn’t bring yourself to believe him—almost.

But you knew that look in his eyes. They were sweet, and tender, and loving. Caring—adoring. So much so that it was overwhelming, almost. The honesty, the sincerity in his words… Knowing you were unable to fulfil something you promised him, yet still choosing to prioritize you out of it. How you felt. How you rested, despite being undoubtedly tired himself.

You couldn’t help it, then. You fell forward into his arms, burying your face into your hands, trying not to look at him as the tears flowed down your cheeks. Your sobs remained choked back, as if refusing to let them free, and he rubbed comforting circles into your back.

You could feel his confusion, undoubtedly.

“C’mon, princess, talk to me. What’s wrong? Did something happen today?”

A shake of your head.

“But I gotta hear it from you, pretty… Hey, I’m not upset, you know that, right?”

This time a nod of your head, and your hands moved to wrap around his waist.

“I know, I just… M’sorry, ‘Miah…. I know you don’t want to see me like this, I just—it’s all so overwhelming, I—I’m sorry, I’ll fix this, I’ll fix me, I’ll—”

“Shhh, shhh. Shhh. Shhhh.” He tucked your head under his chin, the warmth of his embrace tightening its hold on you. A little shift, and he tugged you back onto the couch with him, resting in his arms, thumb reaching over to wipe away your tears. “You don’t need to do anything now, princess. You don’t have to fix everything from the start, sometimes it’ll just… Take some time. S’alright to cry with me, I don’t mind. You’re still pretty when you cry. It won’t make me love you any less.”

You listened, sniffling, arms wrapped around his chest.

“You can be vulnerable with me if you want to,” he continued; repeated. “You can cry all you need to, too. I’ll always love you, milady.”

And you didn’t protest.

Not as he tilted your chin back up to look at him, leaning in to place another kiss on your forehead—”I love you like this,” he whispered.

The space between your eyebrows; “I love you like this.”

Then on your cheeks—the tips of your ears—the tip of your nose.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

A promised whisper with every little peck, the graze of his lips against your skin so gentle that you could melt.

“I love you,” another whisper, before his lips were on yours. Supple, and soft, and your eyes closed to relish the moment.

“I love you,” you mumbled back.

And his lips were back on yours as your back hit the couch, fingers threading through your hair, resting over the side of your face only to cup your cheek and tilt his head, deepening the kiss. His other hand lay on your waist, gentle, rhythmic strokes over your clothed skin, moving in time with the way his lips seemed to dance with yours. It was quick, how things began to escalate. But you didn't protest. You fell into it, the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, the heat radiating off of your bodies, flushed together, leaving the air heedy with want. Time seemed to slow to a stop in that moment, and your lips parted just enough to let his tongue delve into you.

He did it first; a soft “Mmh…” against your lips, reverberating in his chest and leaving you with tingles all over your body. Each time he pulled back you would gasp, only to have him back against your lips, as if neither of you could stop—and neither of you wanted to stop. Within seconds, the sounds of hushed moans and slick, sloppy kisses seemed to bounce around the living room.

His hands began to play coy, sliding beneath your shirt, the direct skin-to-skin contact making you jolt. He'd leave goosebumps in the wake of his touch, hands trailing up the side of your waist…

It was intoxicating.

Your eyelids felt heavy, and you felt the way you would lift your head, chasing the warmth of his lips when he pulled back, despite the way your chest heaved as you panted for air.

“‘Miah…” you spoke first; a little tug on his sleeve. It was the only way you could ask for more, what with the way you were desperately trying to catch your breath.

He smiled, as if he knew.

Of course he knew.

“Pretty princess,” he mumbled, leaning in to place a kiss against the corner of your lips, just barely missing your own—teasing. “I love you.”

He said it again.

Your heart fluttered.

“I love you, and…”

You could feel his breath on your skin, hot, and heavy, and laced with threads of desire you both knew had stirring within you.

It was as if he couldn't resist, barely getting his sentence out—not even at all completing it—before his gaze dropped to your lips, and there you were again: crashing.

It was his hands that seemed to do the talking for you, sliding further up your body, his touches more intentional. The fabric of your shirt rode up more and more, and then it was you who was doing it for him: pushing his hands up against your breasts, allowing your shirt to bunch up over the top of your cleavage, moaning into the kiss at the intimate contact.

“Milady…” he would groan against you, pressing his body into you, letting you feel the extent of his own desires. “God, I… I love you.”

He pulled back slightly, panting over your lips. His hands moved to undo the clasp of your bra, and then they were back—”Can I show you how much I do?” he whispered.

“But, you… You haven't—we should have dinner…”

“It can wait. You're more important. Please, princess?”

And you knew you could never refuse.

Within seconds he had you pressed up against the couch, kisses as heated as they were, hands kneading into your flesh. His thumb grazed over your nipple, so pert and standing to attention—you could feel the way your chest arched into him in response.

Your moan came out louder than you expected when he pulled back, lips glossy and swollen from how much you'd been kissing. He rest on his heels to watch you writhe—his fingers twisted and pulled at your nipples, massaging into your breasts… Your eyes closed if only to avoid the head of his gaze, but you could feel it—the way he observed you, the way his eyes roamed over your body, the way it would twist and arch into his ministrations.

“So damn pretty,” he whispered.

And then you felt a jolt through your body when a hand traveled down, dipping beneath the waistband of your lower garments—and that was when your eyes opened.

A soft gasp fell from your lips.

His eyes were careful on yours, his face just as flushed, his hair much more of a mess than you remembered it had been before you'd even started—whatever this was.

“May I?” You could melt at the slight widening of his eyes into a pleading gaze, his hands rubbing against your hip. “I want to feel you here. I want to love you there, too.”

There was a moment of pause between you both, then.

You took a while to catch your breath, before you were lifting your hips, allowing him to pull down your garments, and he smiled.

“That's my girl.”

You had to close your eyes, the back of your hand moving over your mouth as you waited. It was slow, the way he undressed you. It was as if your body had his gaze completely enraptured, his movements agonizing, his eyes locked onto the trail of slick that snaps as he pulled off your underwear. Your cunt was flush and needy for attention, clit throbbing, wetness leaking onto the couch—you nearly had to close your legs when you saw the smirk that formed on his lips, but he was quicker. His hands moved to spread you apart and keep you in place, and then you were sitting up against the couch, legs hooked over his shoulders.

And he'd reached up to take your hands in his. Your fingers laced through together, a reassuring, loving squeeze—and there it was.

The first lick had you clenching your jaw, drawing in a sharp breath. One long stripe from your hole up to your clit, and your body jolted; his hands gave yours another squeeze.

“Shh, shh, relax, princess,” he mumbled—you nearly shut your eyes at the way he looked, your juices coating his tongue, the way he licked his lips as if to prove a point. “Look at me, pretty, okay? Breathe for me.”

His tongue darted out again, the contact against your folds having you gripping his hand tightly.

“Sh-shit—” you cursed, his tongue swirling a circle over your clit, slowly, slowly.

He would tease, still: dragging his tongue in a slow, light pattern, never quite touching your nub, only barely dipping into your hole. His eyes raised to look at you—you could tell he was enjoying himself, and you couldn't help but let out a whimper.

“S'it feel good?” he mumbled, the vibrations against you sending tingles up your spine. “You like that, pretty?”

“R-really good, ‘Miah, please—”

He smiled, placing soft kisses around your clit before finally, finally taking it into your mouth.

You gasped, your back arching, nails digging into his palms, his thumb soothing over your skin reassuringly. You felt his praise in his movements, the way he sucked on your clit, the way he'd roll his tongue over you, between your folds, taking in every inch of your wetness that he possibly could… He let go of your hands, then, grabbing hold of your thighs, pulling you towards him. Your toes curled, his tongue prodding your entrance—

And then it slipped in.

“'M-’Miah!” you cried out, throwing your head back with the shiver of pleasure that coursed through your veins. “Pl-plea— please, nnh—”

You could bite your lip to maintain a volume less embarrassing for the both of you, but he was unrelenting. His hands gripped at the plush of your thigh before they snaked inwards, thumb attaching to your clit. His tongue swirled inside of you, and every roll of his thumb brought on a jolt of your hips—Cries of his name fell from your mouth; a chant, nearly beyond your control, the way your body would writhe and buck from his ministrations.

“M-Mmh!” you moaned; “J- Jeremiah! ‘Miah, ‘Miah—don't stop, pleas—right th-there, don't—nnh—!”

You felt the corners of his mouth twitch up unto a smile, and that was it for you.

Your muscles clenched, your thighs tensing around his head, hips lifting, mouth falling open in a silent moan.

He'd smile as you cum, lapping up your juices, each languid lick encouraging the twitch of you pussy, riding out your high.

“Pretty,” he mumbled.

He let you go only to wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. You could blush at the mere sight of him—lips red and swollen, slick dribbling down his chin, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips, taking in remnants of your juices.

“Jeremiah, you…”

You covered your face with your hands, feeling the embarrassment settle, but he only chuckled.

“I love you when you cum, too,” he whispered. His voice was close to your ear, and he placed a kiss against it—you let out a squeal, peeking out from behind your fingers before he pried them away from you. “You're beautiful, milady,” he sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, “so pretty when you cum, so pretty for me. You'd be pretty with me inside you, too…”

You watched him delight in the way your face would redden, the way you feebly pushed at his chest as if to get him off of you.

But he laughed.

In his gaze, again, he held that same loving stare, eyes full of an adoration you could never match yourself—not when he looked at you like that.

“Only if you want to, of course,” he smiled, gently tucking an awry lock of hair behind your ear. “Seriously. I really, really love you… And I’d want ro do this with you. If you’re comfortable with it, if you'd let me… I want to love you like this, too.”

And there was so much love.

His eyes, a deep, deep brown you could get lost in any day, were reassuring. Calm, despite all that had gone on just moments ago. You felt… safe.

Safer than you've ever felt.

His touch was a warmth you welcomed, a gentleness so comforting, like the onset of spring. Like the sprouting of blossoms, like the gleam of the sky… Like—home. A pile of leaves you would gladly jump into.

You felt tears prick at your eyes again, your hands reaching out to tug on his sleeve—

“Want you, ‘Miah,” you whimpered. You'd plead and hold him close, wanting to feel him, to see him.

You could do this, you thought.

If it was with him, then—you could shard through any rose bush, weave through any forest. The bushes didn't block out the light anymore. It was different from diving in headfirst without much of a warning, when all he'd ever shown you was to be… Loved.

Thorns, and everything, and—

Maybe the challenges ahead didn't seem so… scary anymore.

Within moments he had you carried in his arms onto your bed, clothes discarded into a pile on the floor right there with yours. Your hair was in disarray as your head fell back against the pillows, linen sheets and the mattress plush against your body.

“I love you.”

He brought your hand to his lips, a manner of adoration, his eyes soft against the haze of the moonlight that shone through.

“I love you,” again.

Like he knew it was something you needed desperately to hear, like he was telling you he'd say it—again and again, as many times as you needed him to.

And you smiled.

Because this time, you say it back.

“I love you, Jeremiah.”

And his lips were back on yours, plush and soft like you've always known them to be, his hands trailing over your body. You were warm, still—so sensitive with the way you jolted and shivered against the pads of his fingers, the aftereffects of your earlier orgasm still reeling.

Then he pushed your legs apart and rest between them, rubbing against your entrance—your hands are held gently beside your head, fingers intertwined.

His lips never left yours.

He remained soft, and tender, molding his lips into yours when he entered. The initial thrust was slow and gentle; your moans swallowed into his kisses.

And everything—the way he filled you up, every ridge of his cock rubbing so sweetly against your walls; the way he kissed you, so loving; the way his hands had yours pressed into the mattress, a safety in the warmth of his fingers laced with yours—everything was perfect.

This was perfect.

Your shadows danced against the wall as he moved, starlight and gleam of the evening before you painting a scene so intimate—so… real.

The roll of his hips against yours brought you back into that lull of his name, his head buried into your neck. His breath was shaky against your skin—deep, breathy groans, the very sound of them shooting straight to your core, and you held each other tightly. Closer than close. As close as you could be; as close as you always wanted to be. The scent of your arousal remained heedy in the air as he claimed you, his strokes slow and deep, the steady rhythm enough to have your eyes rolling back into your head.

“H-hnngh, feels… Feels so good,” you whispered, clawing against his back, eyes half-lidded as you looked at him.

“Mhm? It does, huh?”

He'd plant kisses over your neck, dizzying whispers of sweet nothings into your ear.

“You're so pretty f'me, my lady,” he rasped. “So good around me… Taking me so well, haaahh, god—mmh, fuck—”

Hushed, muffled moans into kisses, into your skin, echoed with the soft, slow, pap, pap, pap, of his hips against yours.

And you felt it build.

“M'gonna cum,” you whined, and your hands found themselves buried into his hair, his head sneaking down to take your nipple into his mouth.

“Mmmhh. Go 'head, milady. Cum for me.”

With a final, deep breath, you shattered under his touch, crying out in ecstasy as your body convulsed around him. It was then that Jeremiah released you with a little wet pop, panting above you, his own thrusts becoming more sporadic.

He felt the way you clenched over him, the groan falling from his lips a melody that made your head spin.

“‘Miah,” you murmured, dizzy. “‘Miah, c'mon, c'mon…”

A word from you had him collapsing into your body, holding you tight, stilling as he spilled into you. You felt the pulse of his cock, hot liquid filling you to the brim, the scent of sweat and slick lingering in the air.

“I love you,” he mumbled again. It was something like a whine this time, a little less controlled, a little more… vulnerable.

Just as you had been.

You stroked his hair, falling back into a rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, breathing in time with the beat of your heart.

Your eyes closed, for a moment.

“Can I hold you?” you whispered. “Let's just… stay like this, for a while.”

“Mhm.”

“We can… get dinner later…”

“Mhm...”

You smiled.

“‘Miah?”

“...Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, princess. Always.”

an : a lot of a more personal piece, hence the insane amounts of self-indulgence laced into this fic <3 took me forever to decide which of my lnds cast i wanted to use for this, but eventually settled on jem based on the pure fact that he is the most realistically my type (zayne being ideal, xavier being fictional) LMAO <3 may has been a hard month (it tends to be) and i wanted to get this out as june starts, so !! happy june, everyone~~~

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