The city of Lore is cursed; or, it used to be. Back when the skies were cluttered with smog, the streets filled and stilted with anger - there was a plague called amor. People lost their minds for it, gave away their very souls for no reason at all. During this time there was a thing called soulmates, a horrible disease where each one person was destined for another.

A pretty fucked up concept, when you stop to think about it. They said once you found your soulmate, that was it. You no longer belonged to yourself, but to them. All our thoughts, love, life were theirs; a horrifying concept to think about. You don’t tend to think about it often though, because it’s not a plauge which affects you anymore. 

Not in Lore, at least because everyone in Lore undergoes a surgery around the age of six designed to remove this dangerous and unstable part of the brain. There’s still the ability to love, of course. Still the ability to care, though you’ve heard it said before the surgery makes you love less. This is something you've never believed because each breakup you’ve experienced has been painful, terribly so and it’s hard to imagine there’s something worse than that. It’s only the old ones who say this though, since they’re the only ones who remember a time before Lore.

Even they recall only vaguely. You’ve heard stories in flashes and memories, not none of which you’re able to relate to. When the surgery became law, some seventy-five years back, everyone living underwent the procedure. That was a tough time, or so the history books say. It was full of political unrest, because those who’d found their soulmates didn’t want to let go. Which only goes to show how dangerous the disease was. Even broken, even bound and enslaved, these people were chained by the disease.

These days, it’s not a concernt. These days, everyone is at peace because these days, there’s no reason to lose your mind. Love is peaceful, love is calm. Love is the sure sense of knowledge that you have family, that you have friends and that you chose them. There’s no such thing as destiny, no such thing as fate to mess with your mind.

Life is simpler, cleaner; it’s easier to see things, to understand and since the surgery there have been fewer instances of depression, anxiety, suicide, anything which could be considered an emotional disease. Truly, Lore is the city of the future, one unlike any other.

Until the day that you dream.

That’s one, unintended side effect of the surgery - human beings no longer dream because of it. Truthfully, you don’t remember a time when you could, so it’s not like you’re missing out. It’s a strange concept to think about and one that you’ve never really understood. Dreams were once explained in school as a vivid hallucination, an event which seems real but is not. The subject has always seemed fascinating to you, despite the lurid undertones of your mind not telling the truth.

Or perhaps this is why you find it interesting. You remember Into to Procedure, a class every citizen of Lore takes in order to graducate University. You had a teacher who droned on in a monoton. speaking of interesting subjects in a way to make you fall asleep. You weren’t asleep though, you were wide-awake and hanging on every word of the soulmate bond, the surgery and the aftereffects. Side effects of the surgery are nearly unnoticeable, practically invisible apart from the dreaming.

This, of course, was when Jackson Wang raised a hand. A talented, good-looking student not born in Lore. 

“Nearly,” he stated, leaning forward. “That’s not an absolute word. What are the side effects which are visible?”

The professor seemed displeased by his question. “They aren’t significant,” he coughed. “Decreased motivation and sex drive, decreased population increase, along with a few others.”

Mouthing the words in repitiion, Jackson’s frown deepened. “A decreased increase. There’s some wordsmithing for you. Plus, decreased sex drive? Why would that even happen?”

Slight titters echoed through the room as the professor turned pink. “If I had to hazard a guess,” he responded. “I’d say the loss of soulmates has made our race a more individualistic species. We’re not as interested in furthering the race so much as furthering ourselves. Does that make sense?”

Jackson settled back in his chair. “It makes sense,” he said slowly. “I don’t know if I like the answer, though.”

At this, you turned around. Jackson’s words shocked you, since no one ever expressed those kinds of notions out loud. He wasn’t looking at you though, only at the professor and this was the first time you reconsidered the status quo. Most people accepted the surgery as fact - it was like a vaccine, or something similar and not to be contested. 

Perhaps this had something to do with your decreased motivation.

Jackson cocked his head. “It seems like a lot of side effects for few benefits.”

“Few benefits?” The professor raised his eyebrows. “Mr. Wang, have you ever been in love?”

Jackson paused, then nodded. Yes.

“No,” the professor sighed. “If you had, you wouldn’t have paused. Love is a searing, painful thing. It leaves its mark and once you’re touched, you’re branded forever. Does it seem fair, then, to be cursed without your consent? Without your knowledge, your explicit choosing?”

Jackson’s eyes were wide. “No,” he exhaled, faintly excited by the prospect.

“No,” the professor agreed, taking off his glasses to lay flat on the counter. “I thought not. Now, back to dreaming.”

This exchange faded quickly into your mind and were it not for the events following, you would have forgotten al about it. It was a strange moment, but unrelated to you. For the next year or more, you didn’t think twice about Jackson Wang.

Until the day that you dreamed.

At first, you didn’t know what was happening. The oddest part about dreaming was how completely normal it seemed. You were asleep, but you were not, there was a part of you acutely aware of this. As you walked through a shadowed hallway, dusted your fingers over a dark wooden counter, it was hard not to convince yourself it was real.

It was not, of course, it only existed in your mind. Rather absently, you wondered about your body. Were you still a part of your body or somewhere else entirely and if so, could you go back to it when you woke. Your thoughts were still yours though, you were still able to grasp the conversation and so you continued walking forward. You walked and you walked until reaching a door and grasping its handle, you pushed it open and froze.

You weren’t alone. Another shadow turned, you made eye contact for only a second before recognizing Jackson.

Gasping, you woke. You were still in your own bed and there was sweat on your brow, in your hair, chest tight with the impossibility of breathing. Your eyelids fluttered, caught between one world and the next until very suddenly, you pushed your sheets aside. Barging into your bathroom, you dropped to your knees as your stomach roiled and dry-heaved into the side of the bowl.

Very slowly, you lowered yourself back to a sitting position as mind buzzing, you fought to keep calm. It was a dream. A dream, or a hallucination but you weren’t sure which would be worse. If it was a dream, it made no sense. Humans can’t dream, not since the surgery.

And if you did dream, you dreamt of Jackson. There was that moment, right before waking, when you felt like you were falling. His eyes locked on yours, widening only slightly before disappearing from view. You were pulled back before you could move, before you could so much as acknowledge you saw him.

You wonder if Jackson dreams, too. If he does, maybe he saw you and that room as well and perhaps you’re alone. For the first time in your life, the thought of being alone no longer seems so appealing.

These questions, this uncertainty buzzes clear through your mind until the following day when you see Jackson on campus. He’s walking across the quad, talking to a friend of his while getting steadily closer. His brown hair is messy beneath his ball cap, shirt slightly untucked from the top of his jeans and as the distance closes between you, the beating of your heart only gets louder.

Clutching your books tightly, you’re unsure when this crazed sort of nervousness even began. This is unlike anything you’ve felt before. Nervousness is familiar, you’ve felt it on test days, during interviews, before you achieve or lose a game. Never for a person though, and never for a stranger. Never, because you’ve caught sight of his eyes and are thrown by their deep shade of brown.

No, these feelings are new and they scare you. Especially when your gazes finally meet, and his slides right past. Jackson walks past you, as though nothing has happened and he doesn’t even know you. Which he doesn’t. It - hurts? This seems an odd word to use, when describing a strabger, but there it is. Seeing Jackson... hurts.

The dreams continue. Night after night, they plague both waking and sleeping hours. Always the same ending, with differing variations of a similar theme. 

Until the night that things change. Operning your eyes, you find yourself in the same hallway. The lights are dim, the air cool and as you make your way forward, the door opens without you touching it. Freezing in place, you’re unsure what to do when Jackson enters the hall.

He seems lost, judging by his expression. He seems lost but when he spots you, Jackson stops in his tracks. He stares back, speechless, before looking around. 

“What is this place?”

It’s the first words spoken, in the shadowed place. The shadowed place, is what you’ve taken to calling this dream-land of yours. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, taking a step closer. “I’ve been trying to figure that out for myself.”

Jackson seems surprised, hearing you speak. “You - you can hear me?”

Slowly, you nod. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Jackson exhales, then stops. When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse. “I’ve been trying for so long, to get out of my room. I kept seeing the door open but no one would entier. Finally, last night it occurred to me I could go through the door.”

“Ah,” you blink back at him, your voice quiet. “Last night was a night I didn’t dream.”

Jackson is silent for a long moment. “Is that what this is?” he breathes, looking around. “Dreaming?”

“I think so,” you nod. “What else could it be?”

“But we’re not supposed to dream,” Jackson counters, eyes wide. “Not if the surgery worked.”

Ah, there it is. The fear that’s been eating you alive, ever since you woke up from your dream and realized the truth. Dreaming is not posisble, this world is not possible. Not if the surgery worked.

You’ve heard of such things, before. Similar stories are mentioned in Intro to Procedure. Before the surgery, twenty-one was the age at which you first saw your soulmate and rather than see them in person, you dreamt of them. You would see their face in your dreams until... something. Something would happen, some unknown bonding whose secrets have been lost to time.

For some people, the surgery just doesn’t take. They dream anyways, find their soulmates anyways and you call these people Breaks, because they are. Breaks in the system, breaks in the process, breaks in the very fabric of society.

Jackson steps closer, his gaze searching. “Do you think… this is real?”

His question isn’t what you expected. “I don’t know,” you answer him honestly. “What’s the difference, really, between being asleep or awake?”

You never noticed before, the shape of Jackson’s face. He’s so open, honest; everything you’re too scared to ask out of life - his face is the embodiment of passion, of courage. Even before the dreams, you thought this. When he spoke up in class that one day, you felt this strange kind of spark and when he takes a step closer, your entire body thrums. 

“Have you ever wondered,” Jackson muses, gaze dropping to your lips. “What it would feel like, having a soulmate?”

You don’t answer him, too confused by his nearness. “I’ve never given it much thought,” you confess and Jackson’s face falls somewhat. “I am now,” you add.

Jackson’s eyes lift, full of joy. “I want to know if this is real,” he whispers. “I want to know if you’re real, Y/N.”

Your heart catches in your chest, a confused murmur of emotions. “You know my name?”

“Of course,” Jackson confesses, lifting a hand. “How could I not?”

You can only stare, as his hand moves closer and when his fingers brush yours, it can only be described as a shock. Bright, burning pain sears through you, lancing into your chest. In bed, you bolt upright, clutching at your sheets and trying hard not to yell. Your shirt glows, fervent letters spilling out and when your trembling hands lower the fabric, you see. There, in golden letters, is Jackson’s name.

It’s written in semi-neat cursive, right over the space where your heart is. An organ thumping wildly as you stare, unable to look down until your phone buzzes on the nightstand. Without looking at the name, you swipe right to answer because it’s obvious, somehow, you already know who it is.

555-8924: is it there for you too [3:21 AM]

Your fingers tremble as you type.

Y/N: Yes [3:21 AM]

Jackson: breaks [3:22 AM]

Jackson: we’re... [3:22 AM]

Y/N: Don’t say it, jackson [3:23 AM]

SInking back in your bed, the rising panic consumes you. Breaks. That’s what you are, what Jackson is. Soulmates aren’t supposed to be real, not anymore. Worse than that, you’re not supposed to want one. You’re supposed to be fine on your own, happy on your own. Your entire life, no one has ever felt like you do now. You’ve never seen someone this crazy, this stressed, this worried, this happy -  all at once, all at the same time.

It feels... shakily, you exhale. It feels like bliss. Even despite the fear and the pain, you’re happy. You want to text Jackson. Want to see him, talk to him, feel more of this spiraling wanting that just the thought of him seems to inspire. It’s terrifying to you, not normal to feel this, to feel so manic. This is what the surgery is supposed to correct; a fix which apparently, does not work on you.

You’re a Break.

The dreams continue but now, Jackson is in all of them. The room sometimes changes, depending on your mood and sometimes you’re in a cafe, which are the nights that you talk. You talk about your dreams, not this dream, but your living ones. You talk about your wants, the hopes you’ve never voice aloud. Wishes you’ve never even spoken, in case they might not come true.

Jackson responds to you in kind. He explains he’s suspected he was a Break for some time now because he’s always wanted more, always wanted a human connection nonexistent in Lore. When he looks around he sees zombies. People going through the motions, only existing at the surface level. They never find the true depths of themselves, since they never find love, or understand who they are.

It’s funny you call this place the shadow world, because Jackson feels like this about the real world. The world you once thought of as pristine, now you can’t stop seeing the holes. The order you once thought was lovely, the cleanliness you once valued above all - now you can’t see the point, because they’re nothing behind it. Peace and calm, you realize, mean nothing without something to fight for.

The times you feel most peaceful are in Jackson’s arms. The time spent nuzzled between the sheets, his lips tracing over your skin while you sigh into his body. This is your new peace, new joy and the contentment you didn’t know you were lacking.

When your teachers described love, they called it overbearing. They said you would forget yourself and it’s true, and sometimes you do. This doesn’t seem such a bad thing though, it only serves to remind you that you’re a part of something more. It lets you know the world is bigger, it’s huge and you’re one part of the whole, not the puzzle itself. Jackson helps you see this, he completes you in a way you didn’t know you wanted and gradually, you stop seeing him in your dreams. 

You start seeing him in life; real life, not the shadow one. Jackson sleeps in your real bed, real arms and slowly, you lose yourself in his real touch and real emotion. Jackson, your soulmate, as the world breaks slowly around you. You are broken, yes. And now you’re remade.

The day a knock comes on your door, you’re wholly unprepared.

Throwing open the entrance, you expect to see Jackson and are surprised when faced with a man in a suit. 

“Miss Y/N,” he reads his phone, frowning down the length of his nose. “I need you to come with me.”

Words seem to fade when your hand gently drops from the door. “Why,” you respond but the man doesn’t respond, gaze oddly sympathetic. Casually, you take a tiny step backwards. “What’s all this about?”

The man tilts his head to one side. “I think you know,” he states calmly, placing one hand over the space where his heart is.

Veins freezing, your mind whirs around the implicatoin. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man sighs, stepping slowly inside to block your doorway. “Don’t make this more difficult than it must be.”

You don’t scream. No, there will be little sympathy for you in this scenario and so you just move. Stumbling backwards, your feet pound through your hallway whlie your thoughts quickly turn to escape. You can do this, you can get to your car, to Jackson. Once you have Jackson, it will all be okay. 

The man’s arms wrap around your torso, yanking you backwards. You didn’t even hear him coming, your head hitting solid chest as you grunt, all breath exhaled in a swoop. “Easy,” he sighs, slightly exasperated. “This will all be easier if you don’t fight.”

Biting down on his hand, you force him to let go and you’re off. Running, turning - so fast, you don’t see the second man step free from your doorway. You run straight into his frame and after that, there’s darkness.

When you wake, it’s in a police car, no sirens blaring while speeding fast down a highway. The wind whips at your hair and for just a moment, you can’t see. Everything is black and you panic, until feeling the touch of his hand. Jackson is with you, you know from the sureness of heart and release in your blood.

Glancing sideways, you see he’s handcuffed as well. Metal bites into the skin at his wrists, the same pincing pain you feel on your own. Head falling to his shoulder, your shirt flutters in the wind to reveal the top of his name. Seeing this, Jackson smiles.

Gaze softening, he opens his mouth and the person who’s driving clears his throat now to speak. “You're awake.”

Your head whips forward, nearly colliding with Jackson’s to meet the gaze of a stranger. Well, not entirely a stranger, it’s the suited man from earlier. Repressing your hiss, you struggle to push yourself upright. “Where are you taking us,” you croak, as though you haven’t spoken in hours.

“Out,” the man responds. “The two of you can no longer remain in Lore.”

Behind you, Jackson's hand tightens on yours. “Why now?” he asks, voice steadier than yours. “What does it matter, now that I've found her?”

The man sighs, gaze focused on the road. “Lore exists as a haven. It’s a space for those who no longer want the curse of soulmates, who only want peace. You cannot stay while you’re marked.”

Marked. Thinking of Jackson’s name, edged in gold on your heart, you feel this is an appropriate desc.

“But,” you interrupt, voice thick with emotion. “My life. My family? Friends?”

“I am sorry.” Surprisingly, he sounds like he is. “I don't make the rules. All Breaks go to Reviva. All Dulls come to Lore.”

Dulls. A word you haven't heard before, but you assume means the opposite of a Break. Someone from Reviva, who does not have a soulmate. The word is sad to you, so much that you lean your head wearily on Jackson's shoulder. His touch is comforting, reassuring and when you look up, he’s staring back.

“We'll find our way,” Jackson murmurs, low enough that the man doesn't hear. “I promise you that.”

“I know,” you smile faintly, closing your eyes. “We will. Together.”

His hand tightens in yours.

There was one thing you were sure of: Jackson Wang was irritating.

Your unspoken rivalry had started at the ripe age of ten, when you had moved cities in order to pursue a fencing career. By that time, Jackson had made a name for himself  in amateur competitions, his skill talked about through whispers and longing stares.

You had paid no attention, focusing simply on yourself and the hard work you had to put in to become someone in the athletic world. 

You trained day in and day out, spending your evenings not at home on the couch but in the training rooms, sweat drenching your clothes as you practiced attack after attack.

You’re able to avoid the “almighty Wang” for a solid amount of time until you’re both set to compete against each other a few years later. By then, you had multiple wins under your belt, placing first in the women’s division three straight years in a row.

He’s not cocky, you couldn’t stand over confident assholes that thought they were better simply because you were a female. He was overly friendly when he finally introduced himself as you were packing up after an excruciating day of training. At first, you chalked your sour attitude to sore muscles, just a simple ‘hello’ in exchange for his compliments on your fencing skills. He had looked surprised at first, the look evident on his face as you brushed off his attempt at being civil. 

It’s after a few more failed endeavors that he starts to get irritating. He teases you and how you hold your sabre, scoffs when you recover and your footing is off. You’re unable to focus when he’s in the room and when you lose your first match since you were a kid, the reason for your blood boiling is Jackson fucking Wang. 

Now, both of you older and completely uncivil towards each other, you find yourself in the one place you couldn’t stand to be:

In a car with Satan himself.

In the time you had grown up in the fencing world, you had made one friend: Shan. She was the only one at school that didn’t treat you differently, something you were seriously grateful for. Her only downside? Her choice in men. And even though Park Jinyoung was handsome and smart and quite funny, his best friend was none other than your archenemy. 

So even when you could no longer fence, your broken bones from a freak accident never healing just right, you had to see Jackson’s stupid face almost everyday. 

Being stuck in a moving vehicle with five more hours of open road ahead was Hell and you wished you could burn up and die. 

“Too hot? I can turn up the air.”

His voice is quiet, a decibel you’re not used to. Even though it was almost three in the morning, you expected him to be as annoyingly vibrant as he would be at one in the afternoon.

“...no. It’s fine.”

He nods, lips set in a thin line as his hands return to the steering wheel. The road ahead is dark and you opt to turn towards the quick moving scenery outside your window. 

Your stomach feels off so you can’t sleep, wishing that your eyes would close so that you could eat up the time by dozing off. Instead, you’re stuck cursing at Shan and Jinyoung in your head, chastising them for their inability to keep their hands off each other.

“Who would’ve thought those losers would get caught skinny dipping on their vacation?”

You want to groan at his small talk, Jackson’s voice still slightly muted from the exhaustion he was most likely feeling.

Four straight competitions in a row on two different continents would make even you tired. 

You shuffle in your seat, pulling your sleeves up and around your hands, “I’m not really surprised. They’re always being gross and stupid in love. It was only a matter of time before the police would catch on and arrest them for how damn horny they constantly seem to be.”

He chuckles, it’s so quiet you almost miss it, but when it reaches your ears, it reminds you of how loudly he’d laugh when you were kids, dressed in his fencing gear while he was surrounded by other athletes. 

There’s suddenly a bitter taste on your tongue... ....and a sudden noise coming from the engine.

You sit up in your seat as the car starts to slow down, panic setting in as Jackson tries to maneuver his car into the nearest parking lot.

The motel sign flashes brightly at you when you get out, cold air hitting exposed skin as he opens the hood up to inspect the damage.

“What the hell, this car is fucking brand new,” he murmurs under his breath, hand wrist deep in the machine. You know nothing about cars so you leaned against the door as he muttered obscenities under his breath. You’re tired, eyes feeling like they’re about to shut, and you can’t believe you’re still in this situation with Jackson Wang.

You know what’s most likely going to happen. But you pray to God it doesn’t have to.

“We might have to stay the night Y/N.”

Dammit.

Jackson continues, unaware of the mental breakdown you’re internally having, “We can grab two rooms and find somewhere to fix the car in the morning. I’ll shoot a text to the lovebirds and let them know they’re gonna have to get comfortable in their jail cell until we can come and get them...Y/N?”

You turn towards him, scowling, “Yes?”

He frowns at you, “I know that look. But we don’t have a choice. I don’t know what’s wrong with the damn thing and it’s three in the fucking morning and I’m exhausted. So we’re grabbing rooms, getting sleep, and you’re gonna have to deal.”

You don’t answer, just angrily making your way to the front desk... ...where you discover there’s only one room.

Of. Course.

The bed is oddly comfortable, for a cheap motel in the middle of nowhere. But you’re too focused on the body in the bed across from yours to settle your racing heart. You want to sleep. Need to. You required energy to yell and de-friend Shan when the sun was finally up. But having Jackson right there, sleeping, was causing your stress level to drastically rise. Clutching the thin sheets, you try and find a comfortable position, keeping the noise to a minimum.

“You can move. I’m not asleep and it won’t bother me.”

Heart seizing quickly, your head turns to see that yes, his eyes were indeed open, staring at the ceiling like it held all the world’s secrets.

“I thought you were asleep. I...didn’t want to disturb you.”

He snorts, “That’s a first.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He gets up, scooting back until he was propped up against the headboard, “You’ve hated me since we were kids. It’s a surprise that you wouldn’t just rustle around to keep me awake.”

“Jackson Wang, I did not hate you when we were kids.” “Bullshit Y/N. Stop lying. It’s not a good look on you.”

Your mouth snaps shut, cheeks on fire at the tone of his voice. It’s quiet, save some movement outside from other patrons, before you say, “I didn’t...I didn’t hate you. And anyway, let’s say I did. You’re the one that started it!”

He turns towards you so fast, you’re afraid he snapped his neck, “Okay. What in God’s name are you talking about? I tried to be your friend. I introduced myself and tried to get to know you and you just...brushed me off like I wasn’t worth your time! You even blamed me when you lost that one match all those years ago!”

“Because it was your fault! You kept bothering me, teasing me. I lost focus whenever you were around! So of course I lost!”

“People tease me constantly Y/N. And sometimes the words are alot more painful than anything I’ve ever said to you! Don’t act all high and mighty just because you can’t fence anymore and you need someone to blame!”

His eyes widen when he stops talking, your expression shutting him up real quick. Your eyes swell and though you hated crying, tears slipped down your cheeks as you turned away and buried yourself under the covers.

“Oh shit...Y/N I didn’t...I didn’t mean...dammit.”

Your shoulders shake with the memory of your accident, the pain shooting up your arm still to fresh even though it’s already been two years. When your bed dips, you look over your shoulder to see him sitting there, eyes laced with concern.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t...I didn’t mean that. I let my frustration out and it was cruel.”

“But you’re right aren’t you,” you whisper, tears slowly falling, “I can’t fence. It’s too much for me now. And you...you can compete. You’re so good and you keep winning and you can still do it. I can’t anymore and I don’t...I don’t know why I’m so angry at you. Or maybe I do. Maybe...maybe you’re exactly what I don’t want to see. Fencing. It’s painful now Jackson. Not just my arm. It hurts to remember.”

You let him gather you into his arms, heart pounding as he rests is his chin on your head. You’ve never been this close, this intimate, and you’re unsure about what you’re feeling right now.

“I won’t let you forget.”

You look up at him, “What? Why?”

He smiles, “It was who you were. I introduced myself that night because I heard of this young kick ass athlete that was new to the training facility and didn’t have friends. I knew how tough that would be in the long run. The other athletes there stick to themselves. Sure, we hangout sometimes after training and whatnot but you and I were the only youth division fencers. I wanted to have you by my side so that we both weren’t lonely. And then...you kept pushing me away. And I thought it was because you were just a little too focused. And then I thought it was because you hated me. Saw me as competition. So to continue talking to you, somehow, I started to tease you. Your spiteful comments were the only way I could still be there for you.”

“Jackson...Jackson why didn’t you try harder,” you wail, burying your wet face into the fabric of his shirt.

He splutters, “I tried okay! No offense, but you’re kind of a bitch!”

You smack him and he laughs, eyes filled with a little more mirth, “I was not a bitch. I just...you teased me. I hated it. And then I lost that match. My first one since competing and...and I blamed you. It wasn’t your fault. I was being childish. But you were right. I wanted to blame someone. Sadly, you were an easy target.”

“Since we’re all about confessing...I’m just going to tell you that I used to have a crush on you when we were kids.”

You almost choked on your own spit.

“I’m sorry, you what now?”

He shifted on the bed, now leaning against your headboard with you somehow between his legs. Shrugging, he played with your fingers, “Even though you hated me, I liked you. You were dedicated. Badass. You had major fencing skills. Smart. Funny. And even in your training gear, you looked pretty. Who wouldn’t like you? Well, besides the attitude.”

He chuckles again as your palm comes in contact with his thigh, “Watch it Wang.”

“In all seriousness, you don’t hate me, do you?’

“No.”

“So all these years were wasted? We could’ve been falling in love and getting freaky in the training rooms when it was after hours?”

“Yah. I said watch it.”

“And I said in all seriousness.”

You think for a moment, remembering all the times your heart would beat quickly at the sight of him before you’d have to remember that oh yeah, you didn’t like him. 

“Maybe. You should’ve tried harder. I’m like an onion.”

“A pretty onion,” he whispers, breath hot against your skin.

“No onions are pretty, you weirdo.”

“I’ve got one right here, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Jackson,” you whine, the rumble of his laughter pressed against your back.

“Fine. I’ll save the embarrassing compliments for the long ride home. Let’s get some sleep. We still have to pick up the law breaking duo.”

“Stay here,” you ask quietly.

“I’ve always wanted to be right here stupid. Now sleep.”

To say Jinyoung and Shan were surprised to see you both making out in the parking lot of the police station was an understatement. 

They asked too many questions, voices raised in the backseats. You let them be, no longer angry that they were the reason for the impromptu road trip.

You had Jackson’s hand in yours, his smile sent your way, and you didn’t think there’d be another moment in your life where you’d be angry.

And a week later, when you’re cheering him on at his competition, you say goodbye to the pain fencing brought you, welcoming the sport like it was an old friend.

“It is an old friend babe. You used to fence, remember?” “Shut up Jackson Wang. Don’t you make me stab you with your sabre.” “...kinky. Okay, okay ow! Damn sorry.”

You scrunch your face at his words and snorts “So you’re dumping him on me because you need a wank?” you can’t hold back your smirk now.

He faceplants the desk at your words.

“Ok” you sigh in defeat “I’ll keep him...distracted for the rest of today”.

He breathes a relieved sigh and you turn to leave the room, before reaching to open the door you stop and look over your shoulder “Just don’t forget to lock the doors when you...read, or you’ll be Ka-Flashy and they might impeach your nasty perverted ass!” you hear a book slam against the door as you dash out and shut it behind you swiftly.

“Plus I know you both been fucking!” you hear him shout back from the room behind your back and you grumble to yourself, at least you get some dick instead of jacking off to words on a page.

(A/N: *sweats nervously* cuz who would do that right, RIGHT!!!)

You knew where he was, where he always was…eating ramen, so you body flicker to the little stand and plop down next to him.

“Stop annoying Kakashi, he’s trying to force me into keeping your stupid ass busy, and how the hell did you even break your ankle Jackson?” you turn your head slightly to look at him.

At his dumb cocky smirking face and the cheeky glint in his eyes as he starts laughing to himself. “I told jinyoung that he looked like an old menopausal woman with his new haircut” he starts to laugh even harder as he continues “so..he…pushed me off…his balcony”. You burst out laughing with him at both the picture of your friend’s annoyed face and also the image of him launching Jackson over the balcony.

You realise he’s scooted closer to your stool and with a waggle of his eyebrows he whispers to you suggestively “So how are you gonna keep me busy baby?” and you feel your fanny flutter at his pet name despite your brain screaming at you to punch him in the face.

Maybe you just sit on it to shut him up?

“Follow me and you’ll find out” you coo back to him suggestively before getting up and flickering to your apartment. He follows a few seconds later appearing on crutches before he throws them down and smashes his lips onto yours without a word.

You groan into his mouth and he pushes you back onto your bed so you’re spread out on your back. He drops to his knees and pulls your pants and panties off quickly before trailing kisses up your thighs and stopping at your core.

“I’m gonna slurp your pussy like ramen noodles baby girl” he groans, making you whine in aroused confusion, but before you can say anything his mouth suction cups around your cunt and he starts inhaling your fanny like a vacuum cleaner, it feels like he’s trying to suck your soul out.

“Don’t forget the clit you asshole,” you whine to him as you grab a fist full of his hair to make him look at you.

He glares at you as he lowers his face and flicks your sensitive pearl with his tongue and you gasp sharply. He buries his face deeper and nibbles on your clit like a beaver to wood. You start to feel your high building in the pit of your stomach, but he suddenly stops and pulls you up onto your knees.

“I think it’s time your put that smart mouth to good use” he steps back and makes a hand sign “bangthewang-no-jutsu” he screeches out suddenly and you sit there, mouth gaping as his and the rest of YOUR clothes just poof away.

“YOU’RE A POWERFUL JOUNIN AND THIS IS WHAT YOU SPEND YOUR TIME CREATING!” you can’t believe that you’re here right now, getting frick fracked by this bellend.

But when he pulls out the tree trunk tucked in his trousers you decide it’s worth it.

You suck on his meaty sausage like a starved dog, praying he’s too fucked out to utter another word. You hollow out your cheeks and relax your throat, listening to him curse under his breath as you initiate THE BLACK HOLE SUCC and swallow eagerly on his trouser snake.

Deciding that’s enough teasing you slide him from your mouth and throw him onto the bed. You straddle his waist, sucking hickeys into the base of his throat and lift your hips to reach down to his schlong and line him up to your entrance.

He grips your hips and slams you down onto his length, making you moan as he bounces you up and down on his long thick pickle. You scream in ecstasy as he fills you to the brim with his womb broom, pounding you so fast and deep you feel like a puppet, but his dick is the puppet master.

“I’m gonna cum” you yodel at the top of your lungs while Jackson continues to mercilessly smash your pasty.

“Let go baby girl” he wheezes seductively “cum all over my noodle!!” his disgusting words push you over the edge and you accidentally squirt in his eyes and he goes blind and you get sacked as a ninja cuz he bothered Kakashi and spend the rest of your life triggered by ramen.

THE END!

…. Let’s all pretend this never happened ok!? BYE!

You could feel the fire licking at your face as you slowly opened your eyes. Letting the consciousness trickle in slowly. Why was your head throbbing, why were you on the ground, what were you doing? THE SCROLL! Your hands jutting down to your side where it was hidden. “Thank God,” you sigh when it’s still there.

“Really Y/N, you need to be more careful.”

Looking up to the voice you are shocked.

“Joo-Jooheon?” you stammer, “But you-you died? 5 years ago…” Furry raging through your body as you stand and began yelling “YOU FUCKING DIED AND I HAD- I HAD TO BURY WHO WE THOUGHT WAS YOU. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA, ANY FUCKING CLUE.” You couldn’t finish what you were saying the tears spilling out of your eyes the man you loved, still pinned after, who you believed dead was here. Right before you, alive.

“I know, it was better that way.” He said while looking into the fire.

“For who? It sure as fuck wasn’t for me. I still wake up in the nights screaming, looking for you in our bed, in our home. You have no idea. Better that way,” you scoff and look at him with anger filling your eye. “What a load of fucking bullshit. What the fuck happened Jooheon, where the fuck did you go?” You tried to look him in the eyes again but he refused to look at you, staring blankly into the fire.

“You know what it was doing to me, being in the Leaf, being,” he paused, stirring the ashes in the fire with a stick “Being a monster.”

“You,” you felt your throat tighten at his words, sadness beginning to envelop it. “You weren’t a monster Jooheon.” You wanted to get up and comfort him, to be there for him. Only when you moved your sides screamed in pain, keeping you grounded. 

“Yeah?” he looked up to you for the first time and you could see the hurt in his eyes. Hurt that in an instance turned to rage as he continued. “Tell that to all the people I’ve killed, tell that to their families. That’s what I did on Anbu, I killed and felt nothing. Then I’d come home to you and kiss you and love you and I would be alive. Then I’d go and kill someone else and,” his voice cracked trying to hold back the pain he obviously still felt. “None of it caught up to me until that last one. That kid. He was innocent. Just a child and they wanted me to kill him all because he held too much power and they couldn’t have that.”

“Jooheon, that wasn’t the Leaf asking that of you, it was the Dami-”

“They still made me do it. They still asked it of me. Do you know what he said right before I killed him? He asked if I was going to kill him as if asking for the time of day. No fear, no sadness just, acceptance. That was this little boy's life, how many assassins had come before me? How many were there for him to ask me such a simple question without fear. The worst part was, he got up and smiled and asked if I could send him to his mother. HIS MOTHER!” Jooheon stood and turned away from you, holding his head in his hands.

While you couldn’t help but flinch back at his rage, burning more than the fire in front of you.

"Jooheon, I-" but he cut you off.

"I don't want your comfort Y/N, I just couldn't let you die."

At this, walked away from you. Trying to stand again you felt more pain from the gashes at your side.

"Don't get up," his voice had calmed some. "Sleep, I'm going to get some food."

Someone told me that you need some love sent your way. I hope this makes you smile. I really hope you're doing okay babe. I miss you in the chat and seeing your wonderful moodboards.The net isnt the same without you babe. If you need anything just message me babe. I hope you like this jooheon graphic, i know how much you love him. ❤️😘