click-on-it-and-pan

Cruel

Inspired by: me cleaning and being dramatic and ‘Cruel’ by The Head And The Heart

 (Jay Park x Reader) 

Angst/eventual smut

 Summary: You finally break up with your shitty boyfriend of over year and you realize just how much he’d taken over your life. This story follows you and a man you barely know, Jay Park, in the time following the break-up, and how Jay fights to protect a woman he barely knows from not only herself, but the world.

Originally posted by parkjaebums


 Chapter 1/?? 

(A/N) This is my first piece of writing in probably four years so if anyone reads this I’m really sorry for any mistakes or if it’s really bad. If you see any mistakes let me know and I’m sorry in advance. I’m sorry it starts out so slow and lame.


 The lock clicks as you sweep the final specs of dirt into the pan, tossing a “welcome home, babe!” at your boyfriend of a year over you shoulder. The lid to the garbage can closes and two strong arms wrap around your waist, lips ghost across your earlobe, cascade down your throat, slide across your shoulder blades. “I love when you clean for me” is smiled into your steady pulse and your lip curls in disgust as you shrug him off of you. “Don’t get used to it” you laugh coldly, “I only did it because you’d be working late and I know how much you love a spotless house,” you say as you place the broom and dustpan back in their rightful place, turning towards him. “Excuse me?” He scoffs, eyebrows raised. “You heard me, haha. We’ve had this conversation. I’m not your maid, I’m your girlfriend. We can clean our house together. It’s not my job alone.” You respond, crossing your arms and backing up against the pantry. He prowls closer, shoving his hands in his pockets and cocking his head to the left. “It’s the woman’s job to clean.” He states. “Hire a maid, then. You have the money. We’re in a relationship, babe. I don’t see why we have to keep arguing about this. If the house needs cleaning that badly we either hire someone or do it together.” You sigh, watching his expression darken and his nose flare. Your stomach drops.

 He stares at you for a moment before barking out a laugh “What if I end up wanting to fuck the maid?” He questions, smirking. You didn’t need this. Honestly, you didn’t know why you were still in this relationship in the first place. Then again, you guessed you did. You didn’t want to be in the relationship anymore but a quick and easy breakup with an idol was not an easy job, especially with a situation like yours and having already told the public. It was one of the biggest mistakes of your life. “That shouldn’t even be a thought in your mind if you loved me at all.” You whisper, pushing off of the wall and brushing past him. 

 You made it maybe one step before five fingers coiled themselves around your upper arm, tugging you back and shoving you towards the wall. “Watch yourself, girl.” He responded, eyes flashing. “You always make things more difficult than they need to be. Take a fucking compliment and do what I ask. That’s all I ask. I’m so sick of this shit, man. I fixed myself. Fix yourself.” He growled, head leaning in close so you had nowhere to look but him. You were trapped and the only thing you could see was him; the only thing you could feel were the fingers on your arm that were going to leave bruises, and the fear tightening your throat and rolling in your belly. This isn’t bad, you told yourself. ‘You’re fine,’ echoed off of the walls of your fogging head. You’d had worse. “There’s nothing to fix. I’m tired, let go of me.” You said after a deep inhale, fresh oxygen clearing some of the tightness in your throat. His eyes bore into yours, his fingers on your arm tightening until tears started welling in your eyes. 

This was his warning.

 He let go abruptly, stalking back towards the door of your house. He’d gotten the door halfway open when you spoke, and his figure halted, body outlined by the glow of the streetlight at the end of your driveway, still like the statues he’d erected in the middle of your garden out back. “I can’t do this anymore” you said aloud in realization. You couldn’t. “I don’t care what if I have to do, I don’t care what happens, I just can’t.” You continued, loud enough for him to hear but more to yourself then anything. His orange outline starts shuddering and for a split second you thought he was crying. For a split second you thought he might care. His laugh, cold as ice but sweet and thick like honey finally reaches your ears and you wince. You used to love that laugh and swore it was the reason you woke up every morning. That laugh was the inspiration for every dream you had at night, the cause for the warmth that use to unfurl in your belly whenever you were near him. These days it made your whole body ache, made your heart burn in guilt and your head scream ‘I told you so’. The words “try me” mixed with the sound of a slamming door, followed by the revving engine of a car and the squeal of tires on pavement as he peeled out of your driveway. 

 Barely an hour later, you and your bags sat on the floor of the first relatively inexpensive hotel you’d passed. You’d taken with you only the clothes you bought yourself and only money you’d made for yourself in this god forsaken country. You sat on the floor next to your bags, back against the bed, shaking. You were free. God, you were finally free. Every inhale tasted like freedom and every exhale released a piece of him from you, you felt lighter with every breath. You didn’t know how many showers you’d have to take to rid the feeling of him from you, the coating of him on your body a year in the making. You sat there, just breathing in your freedom, fresh like the smell of the air after rain, for what felt like second but was in reality almost half an hour. All too soon, the weight of your actions slammed into you. You had nowhere to go. There was no family for you in South Korea to have your back. You moved here for him, with him, because of him. 

You’d just left the only person you truly knew in Korea, the only home you’d ever known here. He’d cut you off from nearly all of the friends you’d made under the pretense that as an idol, and an idol’s girlfriend, it wasn’t safe to talk to anyone out of the idol circle. He’d found you a job within the company he worked under, helping write lyrics for groups and doing any basic tasks needed when an idol group was around. You knew you’d have no job by the next morning, nowhere to go, your reputation would be ruined. You can’t just leave an idol, especially not one of his status. The netizens hated you for dating him, they’d hate you for leaving him even more. Especially considering whatever bullshit story he put out. You hated yourself for letting him control you like this. You should have known. You should have known better than to let him control you like this.

 Every facet of your life right now was owned or related to him. If you left him everything fell apart and you should have done better, making sure you had a plan. You knew this was coming, didn’t you? The weight crushing you finally led to the overflow, tears pouring down your cheeks as the dam broke, body shuddering before completely buckling. Your hands knotted themselves into your curls, tugging with every broken hiccup your body made. Blurred, burning eyes search for your phone on the floor near you. There had to be someone. Fuck, there had to be somebody. You couldn’t possibly be as alone as you felt, right? 

You find your phone and fumble around, roughly wiping tears out of your eyes and off of your cheeks so you could see the damn screen. You hastily find and open your contact list, only to feel another part of you crack and crumble. Every name was different but every one read the same. 

 Him.

 Him. 

 Him.

 Him. 

 Every single one of these people traced back to him. You only knew that woman because she worked beside you at his job, but you weren’t friends. You only knew that man because he’d introduced you two at a company holiday party. You swiped up, sobbing, searching for somebody. Anybody. Finally, you reached a name. Your tears slowed and then almost doubled as you remembered the man and the circumstances by which you’d met, long ago. 

Without thought you pressed call, raising the phone to your ear with shaking hands, breath breaking past your lips unsteadily and being expelled from your body in an even more uneven fashion. The ringing occurred once, twice, three times. With every ring you crumpled more into yourself. There was nobody, you chanted in your head. ‘There’s nobody here for me. I’m alone.’ your bitter, broken mind whispered to itself over and over again.

 Finally, as the last ring came through, a man picked up. “(y/n)?” He questioned lowly. You stuttered, trying to form a word -any word- to respond but all that could be heard by the man on the opposite side of the line were heavy, shuddering sobs and uneven inhalations. “(Y/N)?!” He questioned again, louder and with more urgency this time. He hadn’t heard a word from you in months and he didn’t even want to consider what had happened for you to call him, a man you barely knew, in this state. “Hey, hey, hey” he repeated, eyes flickering back and forth in the darkness of his room, trying to think of something to say. “Talk to me. What happened? Where are you?” “Jay, I don’t know what to do.” You whispered brokenly over the line. “Everything about me is his and I don’t know where to go and what to do and I’m so sorry fuck, I’m so sorry. Were you sleeping? Shit, it’s three in the morning, of course you were. God I’m so sorry I just didn’t know what to do and I needed somebody and I’m sorry. I don’t know, I’m sorry.” You broke, mind racing, heart beating so fast you thought you might die, tears sliding over your chin and racing down your throat. 

 “Where are you.” He answered, demanding a response rather than asking a question. He threw a coat over his white t-shirt and shoved cold, bare feet into the first shoes he found outside his door. He didn’t know you well, but he wasn’t stupid and knew you couldn’t be alone right now. You heard a door open and close from across the phone and the whole-body shakes and chill permeating your bones seemed to lessen a bit. There was somebody. You weren’t completely alone. Cold, wet lips whispered the address and hotel room number and you hung up, holding the phone to yourself like it provided your body with the physical and emotional warmth it lacked. 

Eventually, a loud knock shook you out of your thoughts and you paused mid-sob, forgetting the man on the way and assuming it was your boyfriend. Ex boyfriend. “(y/n)?” Was called through door and the fear latched around your lungs released. You inhaled and stumbled to your feet, grasping the door handle and turning, slowly opening the door. The man behind it stood, tattooed body shaped by dimming moonlight, hand still raised in the hair, taking in your trembling form and soaked face. 

 “Oh God” he whispers, grabbing you and nestling your head into his neck, wrapping his arms around your unsteady body, caging you against himself. “Jay” you hiccup against his throat. “I’m sorry”

 “I’m here” he says. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Nickname: Tex ( I have no idea why, I’m not even remotely texan.)
Star Sign: Virgo 
Height: 5'9"
Time Right now: 10:07 pm
Last thing Googled: uhhhhhh I think whether Charlie Sheen died today. (He didn’t, my grandma fell for some click bait hoax.)
Favorite music artists/bands: Right now I’m all about Pan!c at the Disco. My old roommate got me hooked on them. 
Last movie watched: Arrival. All the feels. All of them. 
Last TV Show watched: Supernatural. The one will the shifter at the funeral. 
What are you wearing now: Jeans and a tee shirt and glasses. 
When did you create your blog: Uhhhhhhh like june-ish 2015?
Do you have any other blogs: Yes but I’m barely on it anymore. 
Do you get asks regularly: Yes, regularly enough. I try to answer them all!
Why did you choose your URL: I used to have a supernatural website and this one (it was soleley winter soldier at that point) so I needed something that conveyed what it was.   
Gender: female 
Hogwarts house: Oh who knows. Probably Hufflepuff because I’m clueless. 
Pokemon team: I don’t have any idea. Is Valor an answer? 
Favorite Color: Red
Average number of hours you sleep: 8-9
How many blankets do you sleep with: two
Dream Job: writer. I’d really love to be a writer. If I could turn my tumblr following into an author following, I’d do it in a heartbeat.