#and then do that for everything else in that play

[gutsby]

Honor Among Thieves

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Marrying Brooklyn’s most dangerous man was easy. Divorcing him proves to be a bit harder—particularly when you’re pregnant with his child.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (f!receiving). Breeding kink. Hurt/Comfort/We-Almost-Just-Died-Sex. Morning sickness. Manslaughter. Brief coerced kissing. Beefy, mob boss Bucky is a possessive expectant father who just wants to make sure he knocked you up properly

Descriptions of violence throughout.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Bucky’s words reverberated like a shotgun’s report, skimming across two dozen feet of marble, glass, and stainless steel before reaching your ears on the opposite end of the room. He was standing at the threshold of the kitchen, and your back was turned to him. Lucky thing, too, or else he would’ve seen the smile threatening to tug at both ends of your lips—effectively blowing your cover.

“Really, I don’t have the slightest idea, Barnes,” you told him, and it took everything in you not to laugh. Having just narrowly preserved your composure, you continued, “You keep me locked in this prison all day and expect me not to find ways to entertain myself? Well, this is all it is.”

Like hell it was, you could already hear in Bucky’s head. Feeling him eye you up and down from the archway, take his first steps into the room, loosen his tie, most likely.

“Prison?” You registered a low scoff, and his voice was already so much closer than it’d been five seconds ago.

Your husband was striding as quickly as his smooth, dark, tailored suit would allow, and he was undressing as he walked. You could hear the clothes coming off but pretended not to notice. Instead staring more intently at the crab bisque simmering on the stove before you, you licked the spoon you were holding and hummed a little.

“Yes,” you answered, simply, “Prison.”

Bucky was by your side in no time at all. Up close, he smelled like rosemary, oakmoss, and gunpowder.

“Well, this is news to me,” he said. He dragged out the middle syllables of his words longer than was necessary, likely to make his move sidling up closer to you. The last sound had scarcely died in his throat more than a second or two before you felt an arm loop around your back. A hand coming to rest on your hip, then his voice, again:

“See, I never knew they built ‘prisons’ up in first-class penthouse apartments in Brooklyn. Must be pretty nice.”

Bucky stepped behind you, and you were half-certain the black suit jacket he’d come home wearing was fully removed. Again, you pretended not to see, or care.

“It’s a metaphor, James.” But your voice wavered.

“A metaphor?” Bucky’s head sank into the soft groove between your neck and your shoulder, and he kissed it.

“Yes.”

Your mouth made a sound more akin to a breath than a real, enunciated word, and you knew Bucky felt it too. He sensed this headstrong, no-bullshit façade of yours was sure to come crumbling apart any second, and each new brush of his hands and lips would be making it happen. Knowing this, he wasn’t in a rush to get the rest of his clothes off. He did, however, start to toy with yours.

“Tell me more. Am I really holding you hostage, doll?”

You took a ladle and started to stir, trying to stay cool. Meanwhile, your husband tugged gently on your dress.

“Hostage, housewife, same thing,” you muttered, low.

For once, it was Bucky’s turn to break character, as he laughed. It was short-lived and sweet, and he pressed another kiss to the skin of your neck, as if in apology.

“Right, right. I forgot. You were forced to marry me.”

“Right,” you shook your head, just slightly emboldened by the way you’d made him crack, if only for a moment, “I’m forced to marry you, move into this horrific little shanty in Brooklyn”—gesturing to the multi-million dollar apartment surrounding you both—“and then you leave me here, all by myself, with nothing to do while you go play Godfather with your mobster friends. It’s not fair.”

By the tail end of that last sentence, you and Bucky both were already grinning a little, coming to terms with just how ridiculous it sounded when you phrased it like that. Still, your husband seemed game to keep the bit going.

“Now that’s just not true,” he said, tone all faux offense.

You felt the soft snap of a ribbon coming undone, and in a second realized it was the satin bow holding the back of your dress together. The fabric loosened, and Bucky’s hands slid down your sides, over your front—of course.

“I didn’t leave you ‘by yourself’ at all, doll,” he said, and suddenly, his palms were fanning out, over something, “Gave you this baby to keep you company, didn’t I?”

The ‘something’ he was touching now was your belly. All soft and smooth and protruding out in a perfect little globe beneath your dress, no bigger than when he’d left for work that morning. Bucky treated the bump like it was a novelty all the same—like he was seeing it for the first time and couldn’t believe he was actually the one responsible for making it get like that. It had gotten to be a hobby of his, nearly, just how much he loved watching it grow. He had his fingers splayed out across your tummy virtually every chance he could get, and that didn’t stop whether you were out in public or sharing a moment in the comfort of home; he couldn’t get enough.

Which was why Bucky was right when he’d said you knew exactly what you were doing when he came home that day. You knew just the kind of effect that wearing a tight, white dress while cooking dinner would have on him, and you hoped it would rile him up just like this: with his hands roaming over every inch of your body, making soft, sweet circles along the swell of your belly, and kissing your neck again and again. Biting some, too. Getting so worked up he was all but gnawing at the skin as he drank in your scent and got lost to pure instinct.

If it wasn’t clear that Bucky had had a breeding kink before, you saw it written plain as day across his face every morning and night since he’d first learned you were pregnant. Like all the life force within him was just a byproduct of the knowledge that you were his—and this baby, growing bigger each day, was a mix of you both.

You hated to say it, but fatherhood suited your assassin-trained, mob-heading, bloodlusting husband better than anyone could have predicted in a million years or more.

Presently, Bucky flipped you around and sank to his knees. He slid you over to the counterspace area, away from the stove, and made sure to flip each knob to ‘off’ to make sure there wasn’t a chance you’d get burned. You cast one last look at the crab bisque and knew at once your hard work would have to be put on the back burner for now, because Bucky wasn’t hungry for that.

Still, you kicked a foot in soft, muted protest when you felt him slide his hands up your legs, under your dress, and start to reach for your panties. You let out a breath.

“I spent two hours perfecting the seasoning on that, Barnes,” you chided him, gently and without much admonition in your voice as you pointed to the soup, “You say you want a good little housewife but won’t even leave me un-fucked long enough to try any food I make!”

“And I’m very sorry about that, Mrs. Barnes,” Bucky replied, head disappearing beneath your skirt so he could take your underwear off with his teeth instead.

But, much like your reproach, your husband’s strained apology held less than half of its professed sincerity. Your blue cotton panties were discarded in a second, your hips pushed back against the cool white marble behind it, and Bucky, almost too cheekily, brought his head back up from underneath your dress just to steal a quick look at your belly, then up at you. He was smiling.

“Anything you make tastes amazing, honey. Daddy just needs to eat a little something beforehand, that okay?”

He already knew what you’d say. The sweet, shit-eating grin hovering over your lower half knew all that and more. Bucky just loved to tease, taking the hem of your dress between his index and thumb, and rubbing all the more tenderly, murmuring again, ‘That alright with you, pretty girl?’ and ‘My wife likes getting tonguefucked in the kitchen, doesn’t she?’ while his breaths spread over you.

You nodded that you did. Momentarily forgetting the three-course meal you’d had planned for him since early that morning, you let your knees fall limply apart from one another, and Bucky’s broad form filled the space in between. The fabric of your dress was snug, especially so over your belly. Your husband pushed the material up your hips and let it rest just high enough to expose your warmth to him. Angling your hips back the slightest bit, trailing his fingers up your thighs and inside them, gently, Bucky let out a low groan against your body, and you could feel the vibrations of it travel up your spine.

“I really am mean for keeping you here all day, aren’t I?” he teased, sliding the tips of his fingers between your glistening folds and watching you jolt in response.

“So— so mean. Bucky, please.”

Your voice was far more hoarse than circumstances would seem to beget; your husband had just eaten you out that morning. Nevertheless, your hand was trembling as it reached for his head. Your pull was taut and dire. While your fingers threaded in through his hair and your body opened itself more and more for him, you could feel that kind smile, even if you couldn’t see it. Frankly, the swelling of eight-and-a-half months made it difficult to see much of anything below the waist, but Bucky made sure to let you know he was there. By holding your hand, skimming his lips against your skin, starting, just then, to sink his fingers in toward the heat of your body, and softly pulling his face away so he could look up at you.

“Baby?” he breathed.

Your eyes locked with his as he slid two fingers inside you. The stretch alone was enough to put your brain on the fritz, but, fighting the first shockwaves of pleasure:

“Y-Yeah?”

He withdrew. Pressed them back in and let out a grunt.

“I need you to do something for me.”

You couldn’t fathom what that might be, but you nodded anyway. ‘Anything’ was what you managed to choke out.

“And you might not like it, doll.”

Your eyes widened some.

“O— O-Okay, what?”

Bucky’s fingers curled inside you, and a short, sharp streak of dizzying pleasure pulsed through your body. Your knees felt weak, and your mind even worse, but with what little resolve you had left, you were able to keep your eyes entirely open and fastened to his. A look that struck you as almost bittersweet crossed your husband’s features, and you saw his gaze soften again.

“I need you to wake up,” he said, calmly.

“What?”

Your toes curled tight underneath you, and the warmth between your legs leapt up to over a thousand degrees.

“Melaya, I need you to wake up.”

At the same time, your blood ran cold in your veins. Surely, you couldn’t be hearing him right if the voice he used was so gruff and low—and laden with a Russian lilt.

“Bucky? What— What do you mean?”

But you knew. Or suspected something of it anyway.

Now the sound from your own throat was hardly one that you recognized as yours, so shrill and high and strange—what could he mean by that? Why was he watching you in that way? Your husband wasn’t smiling so brightly anymore, and the once-gratifying conflagration between your legs had grown to an almost scorching degree, no longer nice, generous, or pleasurable in the slightest.

“We need you to wake up now, honey. Right now.”

His tone, too, was distorted. Grating.

“Bucky, I-I don’t underst—”

“WAKE UP!”

“WAKE UP!”

Natasha shook you hard, and it hurt.

She didn’t mean for it to. She just needed you up and out of bed, and you’d been asleep for almost fourteen hours.

You started at the fifth or sixth shake, nearly punching yourself in the face when you tried yanking a set of covers up and over your head and discovered, shortly, that there was none. You were splayed out on a bed in an as-yet unfamiliar home—Steve’s new place—and, while you slept, you’d kicked all of the blankets you’d been given the night before off your body and onto the floor.

Your eyes were wide as saucers as they darted to Nat’s.

There was no need to say what had happened—she knew these dreams were getting worse by the day.

It’d been a week since you fled your Brooklyn apartment in an all-out terror. A week since a senseless, short-sighted idea on your part had led to the discovery that your husband was once part of a HYDRA sleeper cell whose activation phrase turned him into an agent of total destruction at will. A week since you’d seen a half dozen bodies litter your living room floor, more still being bludgeoned by the so-called ‘Winter Soldier,’ as Bucky had formerly been known. A week since you’d sobbed in Natasha’s arms and begged her not to let you go back. A week since you’d been obliged to hide out in Steve Rogers’ new bachelor pad upstate, because, frankly, there was nowhere else you could safely live until this whole ordeal with Bucky was settled—if it ever would be.

A full week since you’d learned you were pregnant, too.

As far as you knew, your husband was wholly unaware of this fact, and of Steve’s most recent real estate purchase up in Buffalo, and you’d been existing in a semi-serene and largely dissociated state for the past seven days.

Your gaze adjusted to the light, and you blinked up at Nat, feeling damp in just about every place on your body. You looked down and found yourself drenched in sweat.

“Hydrate. Please.”

It wasn’t so much a request as it was a standing order: Nat holding out a glass of water and instructing you to drink. Though your first instinct was to make a face and shake your head—you’d found that any new fluids in your body this early in the morning would only get thrown back up when you made your first frantic trip to the toilet—you accepted it anyway. You drank three big gulps to appease the woman standing next to the bed, then wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled

“I’m gonna go puke now,” you said.

“Aim for inside the toilet bowl if you can,” Steve called out from the doorway. By the look on his face, you’d been doing a pretty shit job of aiming vomit lately.

“My bad, Rogers.”

You had a hand on your stomach, slowly easing back up into a seated position, when you heard something being flung across the room, followed by a ‘HEY!’ and a crash.

“Your aim sucks, too, Romanoff,” Steve griped, loudly, “And I was kidding. She can puke wherever she wants.”

By the door, a hefty hardcover book lay open on the floor. Apparently Nat’s options for projectiles had been limited.

“All good, Rogers,” you offered anyway. Fighting a smirk.

You were starting to stand, and your head felt as if you’d just taken your first steps off a rocking boat. Your other hand jumped to your mouth, and you muttered, ‘Fuck’ before brushing past Nat and her outstretched arms.

She held your hair while Steve retrieved the glass of water, as well as a towel. The unsightly first trimester ritual proceeded as it had for all of the last week, with Nat rubbing circles in your back and Steve making well-meaning but completely useless live commentary like, ‘Babies are a real pain in the ass, aren’t they?’ At the conclusion of each new stupid remark, Natasha would shoot a dirty look his way, but you never let her shoo him away. Through no conscious choice of your own, Steve had become something of a comfort blanket over the course of the past chaotic days. At the very least, you two were no longer at each other’s throats flinging accusations and exorbitantly-priced tumblers in the other’s direction, which was a marked improvement from where you were the day after you and Bucky’s wedding.

At length, you lifted your head from the toilet, and he daubed at your cheek with the towel—mostly just trying to wipe off spit and your own queasy-looking expression. He succeeded in clearing away just the former, but you forced a smile all the same, then shared it with Natasha.

Nat couldn’t smile back. In fact, the grimace on her face only etched even deeper, and her forehead creased.

“This is a horrible time to be asking you this, I know—”

“Nat, please.” Steve groaned.

Nat, what? There wasn’t a lot more that could catch you off guard after all the shit you’d come to see that week. Still, Nat’s breaths were both measured and slow, and you could see she was chewing on the inside of her cheek like she wasn’t quite sure how best to phrase her words. This, coming from one of the most astute legal minds this side of the Hudson River, gave you pause.

“Ask anything. I’m pretty numb, if you haven’t noticed.” You rapped on the side of your head for comedic effect, but neither Natasha nor Steve laughed or cracked a grin.

“How do you feel about filing for divorce tomorrow?”

At the sound of Nat’s words, you felt the bile jump back up your throat. You knew there wasn’t enough food or fluid to make much of anything now, but all the same, you craned your neck back over the toilet and retched. When nothing came out, as expected, you turned back.

“What?”

Natasha looked a little ill herself, but still, she continued.

“How do you feel about just…fast-tracking a divorce from him and taking off new? We’ll talk assets later.”

Assets? Fast-track? Divorce? What the fuck?

“What the fuck, Nat?” you repeated as much out loud.

It normally wasn’t your thing to be so blunt with her, but the inquiry certainly seemed to invite some extra candor. You swiped at your mouth for any excess spit that might’ve trickled out, crudely, and in a second, Steve was handing you the towel. Then helping you to your feet, holding your arm and lower back in a grip you could feel was secure. You were unsteady on your legs, so he and Natasha guided you over to the sink, where you could regain your bearings and freshen up a bit. Sneaking a look at your reflection in the mirror was a bad idea; your face was sallow, and the rest of your body had every appearance of being horribly weak, for lack of a better word. You caught a glimpse of a gash sitting just above your left temple and immediately looked away. Stupidly, you hoped Steve and Nat hadn’t seen it.

“He did that to you,” Nat said without missing a beat.

You winced, and you washed your hands, not looking up.

“I thought you said it wasn’t him. Soldat, you told me.” And for a second, your eyes flickered to Steve, whose expression was a touch more sympathetic, if not visibly discomfited now. Like he didn’t want to speak for once.

He did, anyway: “Doesn’t matter if it was Winter or him, really. Point is he hurt you while trying to protect y—”

“And yet, you asked me to forgive him just last week for killing my dad in the same type of rage,” you replied, and instantly regretted the accusatory tone you’d taken on.

Your anger was misdirected at Steve. It wasn’t his fault for sharing the truth about your husband’s—his best friend’s—past when you’d asked him. These were queries you’d made, helping to form justifications for your own decision to stay after what had happened in Madripoor. Obviously, Steve would be biased to help support his friend in a time of need. But now things were different; Bucky had never been activated as soldat and ended up hurting someone he’d loved before. Steve was free to change his mind after seeing that happen and urge you to leave, or at least reconsider, your marriage to Bucky.

The second look you gave him attempted to convey as much, a bit more apologetic as he and Natasha led the way out of the bathroom. Steve smiled and held your arm again, though you probably didn’t need it. You walked downstairs to the kitchen together. Over by the toaster, Sam was inspecting a charred bagel with a scowl

“Rogers, you really need to ditch this shit,” he said, gesturing to the rusted metal contraption that appeared to be from 1918, and had just burnt two bagels to a crisp.

“It was a gift from a friend, piss off,” Steve replied, grinning a little. Reaching for the blackened bread roll and even going so far as to take a bite, crunching loudly.

“Did your friend happen to fight in World War II?” Nat asked. She lent one look to the archaic machine but said nothing further, opting instead to take a seat at the kitchen table, where a sea of papers was strewn about.

Then, to you, “Come. Sit.”

Somewhere in your tentative stroll from where you stood to where she sat, and in the middle of the men’s toaster bickering, Sam called out that he’d have bacon and eggs ready in a second. Steve offered up his singed sesame bagel in the interim, and you told him no thanks. With a still slightly throbbing skull and a nauseous gait, you took the chair next to Nat’s and looked down at her papers.

Honestly, you thought your present condition might warrant some leeway when it came to holding off on the heavy-hitting topics first thing, but, to your surprise, Natasha slid a crisp white packet over almost instantly.

“Nat, what the fuck?” you groaned for the second time.

“Read it. Give it a second to digest, then we can—”

“No!” you cut in, pushing the packet back to her with a little more force than you’d meant, “I-I can’t. Not now.”

On the very first page, in bold and capitalized typeface, there was printed a brief string of words you’d never wanted—or thought you would ever need—to see:

‘VERIFIED COMPLAINT: ACTION FOR DIVORCE’

“It’s just the petition. No harm in taking a look,” Nat said.

You could hear a faintly gentler tone in her voice, even as you shook your head and looked away from the papers.

“I don’t want to. I can’t do this right now.” You kept shaking your head for a couple seconds after, turning your gaze instead to the bay window of Steve’s kitchen.

A nice, sprawling yard stretched as far as you could see. In the distance, a fuzzy white horizon was punctuated the slightest bit by the outline of a wood fence, but apart from that, the land was empty. The lot was secluded. Happy and effervescent in a nearly cloudless sky, the midmorning sun cast its rays without so much as the threat of a storm’s hinderance. You fixed your eyes on the clear expanse above and silently wished it would rain.

Before more than a minute or two had passed like that, Sam was approaching the table with two platters. Steve balanced four more by himself, watching the sway of one plate of scrambled eggs in his arms with a wary look before setting each one of the dishes on the table.

“Bon appétit,” Steve said, butchering his French just about as badly as Sam had the bagels. You and Nat thanked them both anyway and started clearing off the table, pushing papers away in favor of steaming plates. Sam and Steve sat down, and all of you began to eat.

While you dutifully piled on each scoop of eggs, bacon, sausage links, biscuits, gravy, and grits—far more than you knew you could feasibly consume—you wished again for a rainstorm, and maybe a quiet breakfast. One that wasn’t marred by talks of legal separation and lengthy battles in court, if you could help it at all. To this end, and perhaps against your body’s best interest, you shoveled two supersized spoonfuls of egg in your mouth, so that if Nat tried reviving those subjects again, you could put off the conversation by simply continuing to chew. You felt your stomach turn inside you but, stubbornly, ate more.

You had just swallowed it all, about to make way for a warm, flaky buttermilk biscuit, when a sound cut in, and your belly flipped again. Your teeth had barely sunk into the bread a second when Nat set her own food aside, then used two fingers to push something toward you.

“Just skim it. Let me explain what the process can be,” she said, tapping her index on the first line and meeting your eyes as if to plead. She had to have known she’d be met with resistance—from you, of course, but also Steve. She raised a defensive hand to him before he even cut in:

“Come the fuck on, Nat. Will you give her a break?”

“I’m saying this for her sake! I’m doing it for her.”

“And throwing divorce papers in her face over breakfast is really the best way of going about it? Is that for her?”

Sam swallowed whatever he’d been chewing on, glanced down at the top paper, and seemed to brace himself.

“Guys, is now really the right time—” he started.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Steve barked over him.

Natasha ignored the plainly disdainful look from the latter, lifted her hand off the paperwork and instead trained her gaze solely on you. Just like she had in Zurich. Focusing intently on your face, ignoring whatever Steve or Sam were saying in the moment, she turned to you and found your expression was stale. Unmoving. Frankly, half of what was running through your mind right then was how badly you wanted to puke again. As if the eggs had turned rotten in your gut the second they reached their destination in your GI tract, you felt a heavy, oppressive fog of nausea taking shape between your ears, and you just wanted everyone to stop talking.

Sam and Steve continued on without a hitch, agreeing vaguely but also appearing to bicker over other things, like when was the most appropriate time to have this conversation. Natasha was leaning in, reaching for your hand this time, and you knew she meant well. You would bet any large sum of money there wasn’t a malicious bone in her body, and she was doing this for your benefit. All the same, you were grateful when the front door swung back on its hinges, and a new person walked in. Nat, Sam, and Steve all suspended their conversations.

“Hey, wh—” the blissfully unaware, semi-stranger began.

“Sharon!” Steve cried, “Would you tell Romanoff she’s being a goddamn pest with no sense of boundaries?”

Sharon halted at the threshold of the house, skating a look between Nat and Steve at first, then Steve and Sam, then just at you. The look didn’t linger for long, and before you knew it, she was setting down a fistful of grocery bags and twisting her mouth into a frown.

“Will you shut up, Steve?” was her only response.

Sam rose from his chair and pointed as if to say, ‘Yeah, that’ before joining her in the foyer to help carry in the Wegmans bags. Natasha leaned back in her chair with a vaguely pleased look, and Steve just rolled his eyes. He slapped his palm overtop the stack of divorce papers still laying before you and, seemingly undeterred, continued,

“Do you think it’s fair for her to force divorce papers on this poor soul—” pointing to you, the poor soul, apparently, “—when it’s been a week since she left?”

Sharon started handing off the frozen stuff first, sliding a box of Stouffer’s across the counter to Sam, who then deposited it in the freezer. These exchanges took place in relatively quick succession, with Sharon only chancing a look toward the kitchen table once or twice as they did.

“I think she should do whatever the hell she wants,” she said, “And I think their divorce is none of our business.”

Fair enough take. One that you could respect, at the very least, even if you weren’t certain she particularly cared for you at all. You reckoned she had no reason to, and on the whole, appeared to be a pretty reserved person.

You wanted to add a word in her defense, reiterate to Steve that he didn’t have to go to bat for you, the poor, defenseless soul, right now. Instead of being able to speak, though, you felt an upsurge of something heavy in your throat. You clamped a hand to your mouth again, cheeks flushing with the heady sensation and also out of embarrassment, then pushed your chair back and stood.

“I— gotta—” you stammered, just audible to the table, through the wall your fingers had made over your lips.

You sprinted up the stairs without another word.

The first trimester ritual repeated, and ten minutes later, you re-emerged from the bathroom feeling two big spoonfuls of scrambled eggs lighter and still none the happier, healthier, or wiser. You took a peek in the full-length mirror at the other end of the room and discerned from a distance of ten feet that you looked like dogshit.

You flopped down on the bed face-first, heedless of the pool of sweat that still encompassed roughly half of it, and let out a weak, muffled breath into the sheets. Someone had been gracious enough to replace all the blankets and pillows you’d kicked off last night. When you heard a knock on the door, it sounded a lot like Nat’s.

You rolled to the side, eyes screwed shut in frustration.

“If you’ve come to tell me my marriage is a fucking dumpsterfire, I agree completely, Natasha. I’m dumb.”

A little huff of a half-laugh sounded from the doorway. You opened your eyes and saw Sharon standing there.

Up close, she looked a little paler than you’d remembered seeing her last in Switzerland. Soft beads of perspiration dotted her neckline from what had likely been a hot and arduous journey walking up the driveway with all the food, and presently, she seemed tired. She wore a simple gingham blouse that had her eyes shining with vibrance, though, and both hands, you noticed, were full—she had a mug in one and a spoon in the other. She smiled kindly.

“The mob tends to have that effect,” she said, strolling in. Setting the mug on the nightstand and easing the spoon into it, stirring, “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

You had no idea what all she knew about your marriage. You weren’t so sure you could extricate yourself from all the blame of having the thing go up in flames in four short weeks. Nevertheless, you smiled back and offered up something good-humored in return, like, well, I’m not exactly winning wife of the fucking year anytime soon.

Again, Sharon chuckled. It was small. She leaned back against the nearest armchair and, pointing to the cup she’d left to rest on the nightstand, said in a soft voice,

“Give that a minute. It’s hot.”

You glanced over and saw a little string that you guessed was attached to a teabag sitting at the bottom of the mug. The drink smelled like chamomile, maybe. You sat up, readjusted your pyjama top, then slid your socked feet underneath you so you could scoot closer to the edge of the bed. On a deeper inhale, you decided the tea was definitely chamomile. And too hot, as Sharon said.

“Thank you,” you told her.

“It’s not poisoned, I promise,” she replied. Letting out that funny little chuckle of hers—one too low to be considered a full laugh, but very close—and then, seeming to realize what she said might’ve sounded off, “Like— I heard what happened with Schröder. Him trying to drug you after the wedding and all…that. I— I’m sorry.”

Bad time to be making jokes, she appeared to chastise herself, but you just nodded along with the faintest grin.

“It’s OK. I’d pay money to be knocked the fuck out now.”

You grinned bigger, and she smiled too.

“It should make you sleepier, if you wanted to nap.”

You replied that you would, in fact, love to be unconscious right now if it meant not having to put up with all this bullshit morning sickness, and you slowly reached for the mug. Sharon stood up, and while you took your first sips, she fluffed the pillows behind you.

She was right. The tea felt like a hug. You settled under the covers and brought the cup to your lips once more, taking two big draughts before setting the drink aside. Yeah, that shit’ll put you right out, no drugs needed. You sank even further under the sheets and watched Sharon hover between the bed and the doorway, looking around as if trying to find something to do—some way to make herself feel more useful, if you had to guess from the pensive look in her eyes. Finally, she settled closer to the door and gave you one, fairly sanguine look. The warmth of your drink had already begun to nestle inside your weary bones, and your eyelids felt heavier. Still, you tried to return the sunny look before getting fully settled.

“Thanks again, Sharon. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course.”

She started to leave. In fact, she’d already made it three-fourths out of the room when something stopped her in her tracks. She turned back to you, and you looked up.

“This…probably doesn’t mean a whole lot coming from me, but—whatever you decide to do with Bucky…is okay. We’ll support you, whether you choose to raise this baby with him or do…whatever it is you want to do. Don’t let Nat or Steve or Sam or anybody tell you differently. It’s your choice, y’know, whether you wanna stay married…”

Sharon trailed off, and somewhere inside, you could tell she meant to finish with words like, ‘…even if you didn’t get to make the choice to get married in the first place.’ You appreciated it. You beamed with just your head poking out from over the covers and thanked her again.

And, before she left, for the second time, she stopped. She walked over to the nightstand and bent slightly at the waist, just enough to set something small down. You turned to the side and saw a vial—a minuscule tube—on the surface. Your eyes widened, realizing what it was.

“Sam picked it up in Madripoor. He said Steve had given this to you…to, uh, give to Schröder, and I thought you should have it back,” she said, pausing, “Just in case.”

You eyed the little vial of poison on the nightstand and nodded, still not completely understanding. Your head throbbed, your stomach was still turning, churning. Your brain was about ten blinks away from logging off entirely and drifting to sleep. All you could do, then, was repeat what Sharon had said as you exchanged one final look.

“Just in case.”

Your eyes closed, and you fell asleep very soon after.

You couldn’t have been out for more than an hour; you were sure of it. However, the next time you glanced over at the clock on the bedside table, you saw it read 11:04.

P.M.

Shit.

SHIT.

That chamomille tea was no fucking joke.

Just as your thoughts drifted back to Sharon, the conversation you’d shared, the drink she’d given you, the poison she’d left behind for you to keep, you heard her voice all over again—and now, not just in your own head.

Presently, she was standing over your bed again, though the room was much darker this time around. She pressed a finger to her lips, hey, please, please, be quiet, alright? At first you wanted to make a sharp and strangled sound. A cry for help? You weren’t sure. Didn’t know. Couldn’t see very much of the woman at all, except for the outline of her face from the moonlight streaming in through the window. She stared and ‘shh’ed’ some more.

And you were contemplating yelling out a loud obscenity in response to it when next she cut in, markedly gentler:

“Keep it quick. Nat and the guys will be back in thirty.”

You blinked hard into the darkness and waited for your vision, or else your still-missing voice, to return. It didn’t. You just stared back, eyelids going up and down and up and down like a goddamn idiot gone sluggish off one too many Quaaludes, and it was several seconds more before she gestured behind her, into the shadows.

You tensed under the covers, chock-full of terror. You squinted, and shrank, and might’ve nearly pissed yourself were it not for the intervening force of a face.

A familiar face.

Bucky’s face.

You leapt up from the bed, displacing each one of Sharon’s cool and careful warnings from your mind all at once. You didn’t mean to, and as soon as she’d shushed you again, you shut your mouth. Fell still. Sharon slipped out of the room, reminding you both, again, that you had to be quiet, and you had to be quick. Then it was just you and Bucky. Silence and slightly less than five feet of space between you two. Then, shortly, no space to spare at all, as you ran to meet each for a hug a second later.

Your head struck his chest, and it was hard. That, alongside the python’s squeeze he wrapped around your body, hugging you to him in the tightest embrace imaginable, had your mind reeling, skull pulsing just a bit. You pulled back and stood smiling up at Bucky, whose eyes were wide, drinking the sight of you in.

‘Are you hurt?’ were his first words.

You shook your head that you weren’t, still unable to talk.

“Why are you— Who— who brought you— I didn’t—”

It seemed Bucky was equally hard-pressed to form a sentence himself, while his eyes were roaming wildly, all over you. Looking for bumps or bruises or cuts, whatever the wound might have been. He stumbled to the lamp and flicked it on. You tilted your head left, reflexively.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” you said. Sudden and swift, “I’m good.”

But you didn’t move your head too far to the right, either, for fear he might see the cut above your temple—the one soldat had caused when he’d pushed you to the floor, trying to protect you from a threat he couldn’t see.

As it was, your husband seemed to be too much in shock to see anything else apart from what stood immediately in front of him. He hugged you again. He kissed the crown of your head. He constricted your body so tight in his arms you felt a pressure start to build behind your eyes, and suddenly you weren’t so much pulling away as you were wrenching your body from him. When you met Bucky’s gaze again, the sweet blue irises were glossy.

“Nat wouldn’t say where you were, just that you were safe and needed to be…be alone for a while, but I—” He stopped, and it was as if he couldn’t even finish with the words, because his breath was stuck in his throat and his eyes were stinging too much. He looked down, briefly.

You wanted to reach for his hand but hesitated. He took yours a second later, holding extra tight as he continued:

“I thought I’d— thought you might’ve…left. I don’t know. I hadn’t been able to sleep, and then she— Sharon, she called me tonight, said you were here, so— so—”

You felt a pang of guilt holding his gaze, seeing how all the hurt that had come to accumulate behind those eyes over the last week went spilling, at length, into emotions he was either too overcome or sleep-deprived to express. The weight of this suffocated him, made him extra quick to speak his mind but slow to make sense of just about anything that was coming out of his mouth. He stopped, sucked in a breath, then pinched your hand in his, and you didn’t know what to do. You had no idea what to say.

“I was scared, Bucky.”

It sounded pathetic coming out of your mouth. Your husband nodded as though you’d just said the most profound thing in the world. His knuckles went white from just how hard he was gripping your hand, his head bobbed along in agreement, and for a moment, you winced to think that he might hug you again. Instead, the fingers tangled between yours just made a tighter knot.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said.

“You scared me,” you added, voice wavering.

Your left hand was going numb. You didn’t want to give him pause—possibly hurt his feelings—by freeing your touch from his, but that grip was brutal. Deathly rigid and unforgiving. Thoughts of Brooklyn and Madripoor came flooding back; Bucky was so much stronger than he realized. His tone, in contrast, was dulcet and soft.

“I didn’t know I’d get like that. I should’ve told you, doll.”

“I shouldn’t have tried the activation in the first place.”

You shouldn’t have tried digging into Bucky’s past all. When all there seemed to be at every turn was a brand new way for him to hurt you, or the people you loved, maybe there came a time when you had to stop asking questions altogether. Maybe that was what his mother and all the women who’d gone before her had known to do, what you had been too stupid to see all along. There was no knowing these men at all, only taking them as they were and learning to cope with what they became.

Bucky shook his head.

“No, doll, it’s not on you,” he murmured low. Still forceful

Thankfully, he released your hand to cup your cheeks, and he kissed your forehead. You felt your pulse in your palm, throbbing from where he’d held it. When he let go the second time, his expression was considerably softer.

“Listen, I’ll take you home, we can talk things over. As long as I know you’re safe, it doesn’t have to— to—”

Hey. He was already halfway toward the door before he realized you weren’t following him. He turned and gestured forward. He beckoned you, brows drawing in.

“Baby? C’mon.”

You didn’t budge.

Your feet were rooted in place, as though cemented to the floor. No matter how much you wanted to appease him, go along with whatever he asked, you couldn’t. You shook your head, and Bucky tilted his own, confused.

“Baby?”

“I’m leaving, Bucky.”

You couldn’t hear your own words slipping out between your teeth, only the blood rushing through your ears. Bucky stopped and turned to face you completely.

“What?”

“I’m leaving.”

“What— what do you mean, ‘you’re leaving’?”

“I want a divorce.”

That part you did hear yourself. You wished you hadn’t.

You wished you hadn’t seen the light break off from Bucky’s eyes, expression going limp the instant your words registered with him. You nearly wished you hadn’t said them at all, seeing just how far his face fell and how hurt he looked by them—but quietly, from somewhere more rational-headed inside yourself, there was a voice reminding the rest of you that it needed to be done. You couldn’t keep pretending like this wasn’t what had had to come next. What you’d been skirting with Nat all day and hadn’t been able to bring yourself to admit before now.

Your husband still didn’t seem to be computing it fully. He walked closer to you, and his gait was unsteady.

“Divorce?”

Your vision was bleary; you hadn’t even realized tears had begun to brim at your waterline as you watched him.

“It’s what we need, Bucky,” you could barely get it out.

“I don’t,” he shot back, not missing a beat, “I don’t.”

“It’s what I need.”

“You don’t mean that.”

His voice was hoarse, face shifting from lax incredulity to one of a wince—screwed up in a way that said he felt ill. You shook your head but couldn’t look away from him.

“You don’t mean that,” he repeated.

“It’s what I want,” you pressed on, just as sick yourself.

“You said what you wanted was me.” Again, Bucky’s voice splintered, and you could feel the pain in it.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me, Bucky.”

Gritting your teeth, unsure where else to fix your stare on his face but those eyes—while your own betrayed their feelings too easily, fraught with wet, rolling tears—you shouldn’t have been surprised when his went wider.

“What are you talking about?”

The question was short, sharp, and biting, spoken with such haste as might be mistaken for anger, but the eyes softened his look at once. The anguish painting them now as he stared back at you were a proof, beyond a doubt, that it was betrayal, not rage, which steered him. He turned, and it was as if he couldn’t see a thing but you; his elbow clipped the lamp and knocked it over, but still, he just stared. In turn, the ceramic appliance rolled onto its side, toppled the mug and the vial beside it, and all three went crashing to the floor. Bucky didn’t blink.

“Wh—” he started again, but you didn’t hear the rest.

You remembered Sharon. Heard a flash of her last admonition in your head—be quiet, be quick—and without thinking, you fell to your knees. You tried retrieving what pieces of chipped lamp and shattered mug you could, quickly. You spotted the small vial on the floor and shoved it in a pocket. Your hands swept over the broken pieces without any real idea of what you were doing—all except needing to clean Bucky’s mess—and then swiftly, stupidly, you tried picking it up by yourself.

Of course, a shard cut you. The little slit that was left in its wake could have been no wider than a fraction of an inch, but still, it bled. You looked down at the cut, just then starting to sprout red from left to right along the side of your palm, when a new sight crossed your vision. It was fast, too. All but thoughtless in the way it broke in, gripping your hand in his, and yanking you to your feet. Bucky hadn’t seen that you’d cut yourself, it seemed, and, out of instinct, had grabbed your hand to help you up. As before, his grasp was like a vice, and his thumb pressed right inside the lacerated flesh, sending a whole new maelstrom of pain shooting up your wrist and arm. Now, as then, he was heedless of his strength and his sheer, brute force, that he didn’t even see the effect of his grip. He just held on, held you, tighter, tighter, and—

“STOP!” you shrieked.

You shoved him off. Pried his touch off your palm and gripped your forearm in your other hand and pored over the sight, seeing the gash almost doubled in size from just where Bucky’s finger had sunk into the fresh wound. You let out a sharp, muffled cry through lips that tried to stay closed—remembering Sharon again. You shook your head, clenched your jaw, and tore off the other direction.

And when your husband reached out, eyes wide with their own shock and apologies, ‘Baby, fuck, I’m so sorr—’ you threw him off again. With your non-bleeding palm, you thrust your hand against his chest and pushed hard:

“Don’t touch me!”

When he reached for you again, as if by force of habit, you held up a defensive arm and sobbed out, ‘Stop!’

‘Don’t touch me, don’t—don’t—don’t fucking touch me.’

You screamed it. You didn’t mean to. Thinking only vaguely of the need to be quiet, and almost entirely on the stabbing pain in your hand, the imprint of Bucky’s touch on your body, and the blood trickling down your forearm, you darted into the bathroom and threw the door closed behind you. You locked it. You meant to.

Twenty minutes might as well have been twenty years in Bucky Barnes’ mind. In a moment like this, following yet another supreme fuck up on his part, he felt powerless. He had had to fight the instinct to barge into the next room over with every fiber of his being, and, making fists by his sides and pacing the floor and hating himself was all that seemed capable of occupying his mind just then.

He’d knocked on the bathroom door at least ten times. He’d been ignored each time, no matter the duration.

He still had your blood on his thumb, and it made him ill.

You said you wouldn’t hurt me, Bucky.

While he uncurled his hand from a fist just long enough to stare at the streaks of red stretched over his finger, he heard those words replay over and over again in his head. He’d said it—swore it—himself, and still your blood was turning a cool, dark, dry shade of crimson on his thumb.

This wasn’t how he’d meant for any of this to go. Still, notwithstanding his best intentions, none of it mattered. He’d seen a sincere look of fear in your eyes looking up at him, and nothing in the world would change what he’d done, or who he was. He’d caused you pain tonight, last week—though his memory of that was still so hazy and dark he hardly knew what else had happened, even now—and above all, he’d failed you as a husband, a protector.

You were likely curled up in a ball by the bathroom sink, cowering in fear because of him. The thought sent another tidal wave of nausea thrumming through his skull, a lump in his throat growing larger alongside it, and before he knew what he was doing, Bucky was striding back to the bathroom door. He banged his fist against it.

“Honey?”

No answer.

“Baby, please open the door.”

More silence.

The moment brought to mind a memory from the night you two had been married. How you’d fled to the en-suite bathroom and locked yourself in it; how Bucky had rattled the whole doorframe with the force of his knocks, demanding you come out. He’d hardly known you then. You hardly knew him now. The realization of this made the weight in his throat all the more excruciating as he stood, and, wincing with pain, Bucky kept knocking.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry.”

Pleading now. His voice was hoarse all over again.

Had he been the slightest bit more desperate and reckless, he might’ve been tempted to muscle through, kick the door in with his boot. But Bucky knew better. He could already guess how much that action would terrify you now, while tending to an injury that he himself had inadvertently made worse. Barreling inside would be neither romantic nor sweet, just sinking what may then be a lethal dose of salt in the deeper, metaphorical wound. He refrained. Instead of continuing to knock, he dropped his forehead to the door and closed his eyes.

“Please believe me, baby,” he tried again.

He’d said it so quietly he feared you might not hear it. Then, a little bit louder, ‘Please, please believe me.’

No sound to be heard inside but running water.

“You mean everything to me, doll.”

By now, his voice was clogged with pain, teetering on the brink of agony as he rested his hands on the door, and willed you to open it. Say something to him. Anything.

“I’d never mean to hurt you. Not in a million years.”

For a moment, he heard nothing more. Just how desperately he needed to hear a voice in reply could not be overstated. Craving a new sound worse than oxygen in his lungs. At first, when he heard something other than himself nearby, it nearly knocked him back with joy.

A voice right next to his ear, “But you did, didn’t you?”

The joy lasted less than a second.

The voice beside him was low. And close. Not coming from the other side of the bathroom door, as he might’ve reasonably expected from you, and not even in the tone of a female’s voice, as he might’ve seen, were Sharon to have appeared by his side. This new voice was deep, and masculine, and in his ear now, chuckling some as a gloved hand pressed the barrel of a gun to his temple.

Bucky didn’t blink.

You stepped outside not wanting to see him.

The bleeding had long since stopped, thanks to the aid of a cool, damp washcloth and a few minutes’ pressure, but even once it ceased, your legs were reluctant to carry you back. You dreaded the thought of having to resume your conversation with Bucky—of having to look him in the eye and tell him all over again that it wasn’t safe for you to be married to him. But you didn’t have much of a choice now, either. This wasn’t your honeymoon, where you could stay locked in the bathroom, try climbing out a window, and hope for the best like you’d done before. You had the man’s child inside you, for fuck’s sake.

That uncomfortable subject and at least a dozen more were already swarming your brain as you made your way out of the bathroom. You’d taken a few extra squares of toilet paper to press into the cut, were looking down at it with a tense, uncertain gaze as you ventured out, when you were obliged to stop just a few steps into the room.

“Hi, honey.”

It wasn’t Bucky.

Your eyes snapped up to the source of the voice in an instant, and, on seeing you were right—that it wasn’t Bucky but a gaunt, grinning blond with a gun to your husband’s head—you almost screamed at the sight.

You’d wanted to scream, anyway. It would’ve been the sane thing to do, and one that nobody could’ve blamed you for in the moment, you reckoned, but strangely the sound never came. You just stared at the two, eyes wide and jaw slightly more lax as your lips made an ‘o’. Bile jumped up in your throat. You wished it would choke you.

‘Please. Don’t.’ was all you could get out.

Johann Schröder’s smile stretched wider.

“Don’t what?”

The question was clearly meant to be derisive, rhetorical. Still, with your fingers trembling, you tried answering:

“Don’t hurt h—”

“Why?”

You watched the gun sink deeper against your husband’s face, and he flinched. Your stomach clenched inside you.

“Why shouldn’t I hurt him, hon? Seems like he’s gotten pretty damn good at doing it to you,” Schröder sneered.

His words stung. The grin didn’t flinch. And, as if to punctuate his sentence, or else remind your husband that he was tied to a chair and entirely at his mercy now, Schröder struck Bucky in the face with the butt of his gun. If an onlooker hadn’t known better, they might’ve mistaken you for the one who’d been hit, though—at last, you unleashed that scream, and you reached out for Bucky, hands open and pathetic and desperate to help.

“Think it hurt as bad as your hand?” Schröder hummed.

Your feet were stumbling forward, “He didn’t mean—”

Another resounding thud against Bucky’s skull, this time hard enough to split his lip in half. If he’d grimaced in the slightest, you would’ve seen the teeth smeared with blood. But, true to form, James Barnes didn’t wince. He hadn’t even seemed to acknowledge the blow as it landed. Just stared at you and, with eyes as hollow and deadened and faintly pleading as you’d ever seen them before, manifested their silent apology to yours—again.

“Bet he didn’t mean to hurt anyone as the Winter Soldier, either. Still couldn’t have felt too good for all the folks he butchered, though.” At that, Schröder’s sick amusement morphed into a laugh, and he was taking Bucky’s collar in his other hand. Shaking him lightly while he spoke.

“Couldn’t have felt all that great for your dad, I bet.”

The diversion turned to you, all toothy smiles and mocking eyes. He didn’t care. He let you stagger another step toward the two of them, even try to get your hands close to Bucky. But when you’d drawn too close, he stopped you cold. Not thinking much else in the moment, you made a move to push Schröder’s arm away, hard, and were shortly rewarded with a shove of your own. He knocked you sideways onto the bed, and you landed on the hand you’d hurt. Before you could let out so much as a sound yourself, Bucky’s voice tore in:

“Schröder.”

Schröder turned. He raised his Ruger to your husband’s head again, as casually as if he’d asked him for the time.

“Yes?”

“Don’t touch her.”

Schröder turned to you. Though he didn’t move the Ruger again, he did point his finger at your form, haplessly curled into itself amidst the covers and pillows.

“Why? Saving all the rough stuff for later, are we?”

You cowered as his free hand reached for you, and just as your husband’s eyes went wide and a vein nearly tore through his skin from how hard it protruded, you cried,

“What do you want?!”

Schröder stopped. He brought his hand to a halt just south of your thigh—and then he dropped his weight on the bed beside you. He gestured indistinctly, almost disbelievingly, toward Bucky. The latter appeared near-apoplectic, nails raking down either arm of the chair.

“What do I want?” Schröder quipped, incredulous, “What do you want, doll? To stay married to him?”

And you knew he’d intended the question to be hurtful; you knew it by the glint in his eye, the goading tone of voice and the look he’d flitted to Bucky—nondescript and yet saying a world more than words could ever convey. He knew what had gone on between you, had likely heard your last conversation in its entirety, and was now using it against you. Mostly to taunt, then to injure your husband with truths he hadn’t yet uncovered himself.

Schröder’s eyes were shining with sadistic delight as he took your hand in his. He didn’t waste another second.

“No, no, that isn’t what you want at all, is it?”

Ignoring the screech of Bucky’s restraints as he tried to lunge out of his chair. Hearing him curse when he failed.

“—you said you’re leaving him, right?”

Schröder slid the thin, glistening ring off the hand he’d been holding before you could even think to stop him.

“—said you want a divorce, is that it?”

Then his grin got so big and conceited and enlivened by the sight of pain working its way onto Bucky’s face that any good sense you’d had left inside you was abandoned in a blink. You didn’t hesitate, or else try and make a pass to retrieve your ring—you just hit the man in the face.

Your fist was small, and his chin was hard. You knew before you ever threw the punch that it’d probably hurt you more than him, but you did it anyway. It succeeded, at the very least, in catching Schröder by surprise and swiftly pissing him off. Seeing this and feeling a bit bolder, you were somehow able to dodge his hands when he lurched for you again. Inside, your own anger flared.

“Why the fuck do you care?” you spat.

You found momentary respite in the corner of the bed, sliding back against a wall that would only protect you for so long. As soon as Schröder regained his bearings, he had you back in his sights and his grasp just as quick.

He dragged you back. He pulled you up. He dug the tips of his fingers so hard into your side that you thought the flesh might tear in two across your ribs. But it didn’t. Crescent-like indentations did leave their mark in a grisly set of five, though. You felt the sting of it as Schröder loosened his grip, then sucked his next breath through his teeth as if calming himself. Your gaze only hardened.

“I care,” he said, once he’d completed this slow inhale. He replaced his touch by pinching your face in one hand and bringing it up to his, expression more like a snarl. Then, raising the gun to your face in his other hand, “because I made a deal with your father. Remember?”

You did. Your head jerked back by force of instinct, but he held it. From every direction, then, you had nothing to hear but the sound of your own pulse thrumming a fast, panicked tempo in your skull. You tasted blood in your mouth without a drop on your tongue. And, had that deafening fear and revulsion been anything less, you likely would’ve heard something else beneath it all.

Would’ve felt it, if you weren’t already so numb: Schröder’s hand sliding its way down your body, diamond ring still stuck to the tip of his index finger. You sensed it as though seeing yourself from another perspective—watching his hand trail lower, lower, lower until something in Bucky split in two and he bellowed:

“SCHRÖDER—”

He said something more after that; you were sure of it. You just couldn’t hear him, or see him, or discern much of anything else but your own racing heart as the man who’d just beat your husband twice and lifted a gun to your head proceeded to press his touch to your belly. Almost conscientious and gentle as he lowered it.

“Was this part of the deal, too, doll?”

Your eyes widened. Realizing—then feeling fear seize you completely. Forgetting the metal at your temple and shaking your head with a force, but slow enough that your husband wouldn’t see it. Meanwhile, across from you both, Bucky seemed more than sufficiently occupied by his own blinding rage—he spit a glob of blood to the floor and, with his teeth bared again, swore he’d kill him.

Over and over and over again, oaths of taking Schröder’s life and making it gruesome and painful and slow filled your ears, but none of it stuck, for either you or Schröder. Instead, your maniacal captor just smiled, leaning in.

“I said, was this part of the deal, Mrs. Barnes?”

The heel of his palm sank into your stomach, and as the shock of his first words began to fade, a pain replaced it. His hand made an impressive demonstration of flattening and forcing itself so hard against the skin that a flurry of stars cropped up in your eyes, and you cried:

“Stop! I-It wasn’t— just— just stop. Stop.”

“Stop? Was it part of the deal or not?”

Schröder bore down even harder.

“It just happened!” you keened. Unsure why you felt compelled to answer for what had gone on at all—addressing the baby in this awful, oblique way—though reckoning it had something to do with the pressure he was applying to your stomach. You tried to squirm back.

But your stuttering pulse and your pleading gaze and the ache in your stomach proved to be all too much for any real progress to be made. You’d scarcely moved off an inch before he drove his palm deeper, and with the agony of a body about to rupture beneath it, a shriek clawed out of your throat. Your mouth fell open, and for once, you couldn’t curtail the pain, or fear. Schröder’s hand had just forced the noise from your mouth, along with some mindless, broken pleas to stop pushing, it hurts, please, please, when the face above yours only brightened. Schröder’s cruel, snide mouth flashed a smile above you, and before you could whine again—

He kissed you.

It couldn’t have lasted for more than a second.

Still, the moment seemed to stretch indefinitely. And felt perverse. So deeply nauseating and unsettling to every last nerve, muscle, tendon, and bone in your body that the response it evoked could be nothing less than visceral. You didn’t need to think at all to shove him off. Whatever might’ve given you pause with a loaded gun to your head was forgotten in a second, and soon enough, you weren’t alone in letting your reproach be known.

It started off with a crack, then a harsh, crude splintering of wood. A violent rift, from what you could hear of it, and when you turned your head, your suspicions were confirmed: Bucky had snapped half the arm of his chair away from the seat, and his right hand was almost freed.

Whatever barrier he faced in being bound more than four times over with rope seemed immaterial to him now. He could strain as hard as he pleased—feel the coarse synthetic fibers dig into his flesh and leave streaks of red, if not break the skin itself—and any pain, as before, hardly appeared to register with your husband at all. He just muscled through it, thrusting his wrist even harder. The whole force of this movement rocked the chair on its legs, and just when you sensed it might collapse beneath his weight, you felt Schröder stand up. The man didn’t need to move too far or do much else other than drop his hold on you and flip his gun to point it at Bucky instead.

Even when he had, though, Bucky didn’t flinch. His hands were in fists and his drive was like a machine’s—he tried forcing his way out of the right hand’s restraints, and the second the wood gave way, he was shoving it off.

Blind to the firearm Schröder was holding, or his words:

“Stay where you are, Barnes.”

Bucky was just then shaking off the rope that had been loosened by the break in the wood, jaw still tight as ever.

“You’ve got three other limbs to free, my friend, just—”

Schröder was still speaking when you saw his finger slip to the trigger, and it seemed to you it was itching to pull.

“James, stop!”

That plea came from you. More of a strangled cry, really—no more pleasant for either man to hear than it was for your throat to shriek. It did, however, stop Bucky cold. Your husband paused just long enough to meet your gaze. And in it, you saw, at least, that he was all there, if not enraged. But not soldat, or anyone else but himself.

You sighed in relief, despite what seeing two red rivers seeping out of Bucky’s mouth might otherwise provoke.

It was him. You might’ve smiled if another hadn’t cut in.

Schröder seized Bucky’s wrist. With it, you saw his hand just as mangled and bloodied as his lips. Knuckles cracked, slit, and soon to be littered with bruises of every shade, he shocked you again by how calmly he took it. Even when Schröder sank a thumb inside a big, gaping crater of a flesh wound he’d found on the back of his hand, your husband didn’t blink; he just looked at you.

‘I’m sorry.’

When the barrel of the gun returned to his head—this time, at the rear, as Schröder had circled back around the half-broken chair and was leaning over him—you could see the apology lodged in his eyes on full display.

“For safekeeping.” The man wielding the gun seemed almost pleased as he dropped your ring inside the breast pocket of your husband’s shirt, before patting it gently:

“Now where were we?”

A beat. Bucky’s right hand twitched beside him, but evidently, he knew better than to move in that moment.

“Right, right—” Schröder pretended to be remembering, tapping steel to Bucky’s skull, “She’s leaving, isn’t she?”

More silence.

You wanted to speak, beg Schröder for mercy, anything.

“Do you know why that is, Bucky?”

But before you could utter even a word of protest, the voice pressed on. Schröder was leaning in his ear.

“—what you did to her?”

The baby. Brooklyn. All the bloodshed that had ensued last week, leaving your husband completely in the dark. Of course, he couldn’t remember. He hadn’t been himself, and was scarcely more able to control his actions as the Winter Soldier than he could in a dream.

To your horror, Schröder reached down for Bucky’s hand, and, still holding the gun to him with the other, lifted it.

Pointed it.

Pushed it closer to you.

“C’mon, Buck. You don’t want me touching her, right? Why don’t you feel for yourself what she’s been hiding?”

Your blood turned to ice. You’d never felt so immobile—paralyzed—in your life, but seeing the hands drift closer and closer and feeling defenseless to their course, your body went numb. Your limbs grew heavier than lead.

And when you felt the smug, smiling blond guide your husband’s touch toward your head, you understood it all.

You were perched at the edge of the bed a foot away. Schröder was nudging Bucky forward in his chair, urging him to reach out and tilt her chin a little, go on, that’s it. And neither one of you had a choice, so he touched you. His fingers, directed by someone else, were obliged to brush the skin of your chin, your jaw, your cheek, and your brow, before finally settling above your left temple.

Your husband felt the cut—touched the stitches.

You winced, but not from any physical pain. It was Bucky’s face as the tips of his fingers skimmed the wound. The look of chagrin that crossed his eyes. Then bewilderment. Fear, as plain as anyone could see it— was he the cause of that? Had the hurt been from him?

You couldn’t bear to answer him, so you looked away. It was Schröder, again, who had all the power to speak.

“Can’t remember pushing her down?” he said, tone dark, “Making her split her head open on the bedside table because soldat didn’t know his own strength—only that he had to keep her safe—and sensed a threat outside?”

Bucky shook his head. His face was grave.

Schröder kept making him prod the skin.

“It’s bruised here, too. You feel it?”

Your husband did, and you thought it might break him. So tender and forlorn were the eyes, raking over every spot where a touch, his touch, had left you hurt before.

If nothing else could bring you back to your senses, the wounded look in Bucky’s gaze was sure to get it done.

You hardly thought again, just croaked: ‘It’s not his fault.’

Schröder’s hand then descended your neck, your torso.

As if he hadn’t heard you at all—

“You already saw what happened to her hand.”

—and forcing Bucky’s touch lower still.

“But what about here?”

Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt your husband’s hand come to rest on your stomach.

It was like a fire had ignited in your lower half, and nothing close to the soft, pleasurable kind. Not the flutter felt in anticipation of a touch from your husband, not the desirous sort. In fact, you dreaded it now; seeing Schröder over his shoulder, urging him closer, making him flatten his big, broad, scorching palm over your belly.

What should’ve been the ecstatic scene you’d conjured in your mind at least a hundred times since marrying him—the picture of domestic bliss as you said it, smiling, I’m pregnant—was now nothing short of torture. Choice all but stripped from you here, forced to emerge inside this terrible place, you found yourself needing to shrink back, shake your head, look to Schröder’s stubborn, unyielding gaze and beg him not to make you do this now. Not now.

Not here, with Bucky’s skin a shade of glacial white and his eyes going wide, taking on a look you’d never seen.

“What do you—”

He stared hard at the hand on your belly, but it didn’t last for long. As if realization were trying to seep in, he couldn’t meet it. His eyes flitted back to your face.

“Baby, what’s—” he tried again, stammering.

“—right, that’s it, Mr. Barnes.” That was Schröder.

Satisfied in the suspense of the moment keeping your husband still, he lifted his hand from Bucky’s and snapped, that’s it, and clapped him over the shoulder.

Congratulating him before the truth had even sunk in.

“A baby, that’s right! You’re going to be a father, Buck.”

And how far was the look on Bucky’s face from the one you’d dreamed before. The lips you’d envisioned in a smile now twisting bleakly, parting slightly, and the eyes you’d once hoped to be bright and elated only staring back with rings of red enveloping the irises. Whatever tears formed at his waterline were decidedly not of joy.

Only guilt.

“You did it.”

Desperation.

More moisture in his eyes as his hand started to tremble across your stomach, voice hoarse and soft, “Is it true?”

You didn’t need to nod. You just watched him, let your own eyes fill with the worst, stinging tears you had felt in your life, and from the silence that followed, Bucky knew.

As if the life beneath his palm were something dear, but still too much for him to comprehend, he shook his head. He stroked his thumb over the cotton of your pyjamas and tried inching closer, as much as his restraints would allow him. Then, with words that were audibly strained, but always gentle, he lowered his voice—as if to keep the communication between you two, despite your position:

“I love you.”

His hand was still on your belly as he said it. He reached up to cup your face. Even lower than before, “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry.

That much was evident from every look he’d given you tonight. Every move he made a de facto apology, all actions in the vein of atonement, it couldn’t possibly escape your mind or his that he knew he’d done wrong. It was only a matter of accepting this—maybe coming to terms with the fact that your life wasn’t safe in his hands—for the guilt plaguing Bucky to multiply. Paralyze him.

There was no better time for Schröder to strike. Just as the anguish had flooded Bucky’s face completely, and his hand had had to lower itself from want of strength, a sound split the air. Bucky was so lost in his thoughts that it didn’t even register at first, but the impact was real, and it was harsh: Schröder punched him squarely in the jaw. The next, swift snap was his nasal bone taking a blow, and breaking beneath it. Blood breezed down and into his mouth. Feeling warm, his lips and chin doused in a second, he sensed nothing else. He might’ve groaned.

He caught another swift right hook, and his mind went blank. Nothing of substance threatened to materialize between his ears, save for the rush of blood through and from his skull and the dim recognition of something ugly.

Something horrific.

He couldn’t protect you.

His body was as much an idle waste as it was a danger. Useless now, as he was tied to this chair, and a risk to your well-being even if he weren’t. The hazard was him.

Schröder hit him again, and Bucky realized that the ringing he’d heard in his ears was your screaming.

“I’m doing her a favor,” Schröder spat before shoving him back in the chair, almost knocking it sideways.

The blond advanced with ease. His knuckles were drenched in blood; none of it was his. When he reached for Bucky again, the resistance was slight, and a simple, firm grip on the collar was all that was needed to drag his frame to sit straight. Bucky was barely upright for a second before the next—and worst—blow struck his face. His whole head rang with it, reeling, but still, he could make out the words as they were spoken to him.

“She’ll never be safe with you, Barnes. Never—” and at the last, Schröder lowered his gun. Started to loosen the rope from Bucky’s left arm, “—I could free you now, and you still wouldn’t get within an inch of what you want.”

He nudged the rope away and let it fall to the floor. Bucky lifted his hand, but the effort was in vain. No sooner had a finger of his stirred than Schröder was delivering a kick to the chair and letting it splinter. Topple. Skitter a half-foot across the hardwood floor with Bucky’s ankles still bound to it, before finally, gracelessly, breaking apart.

Bucky was on the floor, blinking through a stream of blood and a sea of muddied thoughts when Schröder kicked the chair again. The rope slackened some more.

“Her own father knew as much, so he made me a deal to take her off of your hands. Settle his debts the way he should’ve done the first time around,” Schröder said, and now his tone was lower. Lethal as it ever was, and stern.

“I know how much you hate to lose your playthings, Buck, but this one’s better off with me, I promise.”

And, as if to emphasize his point, Schröder turned and reached for you. Bucky’s own hands were slow, fumbling in fits and bursts to get the rope unwound from his ankles, but they were determined. He just couldn’t get the bleeding to stop, the ringing to subside, or his brain, in its concussed state, to let him move with a little more agility. He’d been hit too many times. He could barely lift his head off his shoulders and hold it straight, so he was forced to stay where he was, keep at his task, and listen.

“You’re weak when you’re not soldat.”

Using his knuckles, Schröder brushed the blood that was evidently all Bucky’s across your cheek, and you flinched.

“When you make the switch, still…you’re inhuman.”

Then he tilted your head, making you show them both the mutilated, stitched-up flesh above your temple. Again, you tried to slink away, but his touch was firm.

“Don’t you think your bride deserves better than that? Your child? Forced to live in fear of that thing you are?”

Blood coursed down Bucky’s face, and his lips were curled apart in a grimace, mouth hanging slightly ajar. His eyes fixed their look on you. The rope was undone.

He’d just started to try and stand when the edge of his vision blurred. He felt the lacerations in his face pulse as one, and with it, half his sight went skewed to the left. Schröder couldn’t help but crack a smile seeing him stumble, pitch back, and barely catch himself on the bedside table. When he stood, he was mostly hunched.

“Look at you, Buck. You can’t try and save her like this,” Schröder taunted, drawing you closer, “So stop trying.”

The man’s hand was like ice holding your face. The grip grew tighter when he saw your husband limping your way, and before either one of you could move, the index of Schröder’s other hand had slid down to the trigger. He didn’t wait to give another warning before he did it—just pointed the gun and fired one shot over Bucky’s head.

His aim was good. The bullet missed your husband by less than an inch. The gun had gone off by your ear, and immediately, you seized the side of your head as a sharp, searing pain cropped up. Your skull was still ringing when you heard the thing discharge again, and you realized it had been aimed at Bucky’s neck. He’d ventured another step, and Schröder had fired a second round to graze the top of his shoulder. Crimson bloomed through his shirt.

Bucky should’ve stumbled again. He might’ve staggered back with a grunt of pain, lifted a quick, reflexive hand to feel the wound, but the sense of it all was slow to reach him. The moments that passed him were delayed just the same, as if the world around him were distorted—the fibers of time tugged and stretched before his eyes—and he could hardly keep himself straight. When he got another look down the barrel of the gun, he didn’t blink. Couldn’t see, really. It was all misshapen sights and sounds and a dim recognition that his mind was in a fog.

Somewhere from within that mist, he heard, faintly:

“I’ll go— I’ll go— I’ll go with you, I’ll go— just stop.”

Schröder turned to you, and the smile that he wore was cruel, but Bucky wasn’t able to make out the expression.

All he could see then, to the faintest extent, was you—your face, gripped hard in another man’s hand, eyes pleading and wet with tears, and a slightly slack jaw.

“Leave him for me?” Schröder repeated, sneering.

You nodded. Blinked. Rolled your tongue along the inside of your cheek before pulling it back and biting down once. There was a hint of a wince in your eyes, but, from what Bucky could tell, it vanished just as fast as it came.

Your lips parted again. Your eyes widened a little.

“So the girl has some fucking sense.” That was Schr��der.

He’d had his weapon re-holstered and your face firmly seized in both of his hands in no more than a second.

What came next surprised no one, though the sensations of disgust and rage were as quick to turn a stomach as the shock would have done. Schröder bent down and, having pulled your face closer to his, kissed you again.

Schröder’s mouth was glistening with a grin and Bucky’s own blood—smeared all over your face from how hard he’d been holding you—when he looked up and turned.

“Sensible and sweet, isn’t she? Tastes like it, too.”

Bucky saw nothing but red. It wasn’t just blood crowding his vision now but violence and rancor and outright hatred, stirring his limbs to start moving again when the rest of his body was plainly too battered to venture an inch in that condition. He staggered again, watched you again, and had made it almost halfway across the room when another sight slowed him, if only for a moment.

Schröder’s lips were back on yours, as if to mock him, but what startled him, really, was the way you’d opened your mouth. You couldn’t mean it. Clearly. Schröder was gripping your jaw, forcing it open—it had to be—and he was coaxing your tongue out from inside and weaving it with his. Once more, time moved like molasses, and that was all your husband had had to see: you kissing him back, gripping his arm through the thick, black tactical gear, and still parting your lips more and more for him. Like you needed a touch, or something, worse than ever.

That stalled Bucky, though he was nowhere close to stopping now. Briefly preoccupied, and seemingly shocked as well that you’d accepted the kiss so eagerly this time, Schröder didn’t see the approach. If he had, he likely would’ve turned and made a move for his Ruger, but as it was, he had only to blink—and there was Bucky.

He hit him with a force that was blinding, directly to the side of his head so hard that he’d had no choice but to separate from you. Schröder was stunned one second and on the floor in the next. Bucky threw him there, kicked him down, and, wavering for only a moment to cock back the shoulder that’d been shot, he ignored the pain and punched the man again. And again. And again.

There was a callousness, an indolence, and an ease with which he was able to inflict the pain, that much was evident. What didn’t seem so natural, at least in Bucky’s mind, was the weight that was in his hands: Schröder’s body felt limp before he’d even landed the second blow.

The pressure grew heavier and heavier in his hands the harder, and more frequently, he delivered each hit, but for now, he didn’t care. Bucky kept on punching until the face beneath him was gnarled and bloody, and his own fist, too, slashed every which way with more cuts than he was able to count. He would’ve kept going—could’ve ignored the stabbing pain in his shoulder for as long as it would take to ensure the man was dead—but as it was, he refused to ignore the voice he heard. It was yours.

Muffled now, as your body was bent to the side and your head drooped lower still. Your voice was soft but clear:

“Bucky, please, stop.”

He did.

He dropped the man’s collar from his hands as soon as he’d heard you say it, and he turned away as if nothing had transpired behind him at all. His focus was on you.

“Baby—”

To his surprise, he watched you spit on the floor.

Your face was grim and almost sick, and you spit again.

The look grew even worse, and afterward, you didn’t waste a second more; you stood and left the room.

Bucky was stunned at first, and his instinct had been to follow. Then he heard a rattling sound beside him. He glanced down and paled, seeing Schröder there.

His face had turned blue much sooner than Bucky had expected—and not from any bruising but a lack of oxygen in his lungs. He was choking, foaming slightly at the mouth while he gasped for air. Surely, it hadn’t been the hits that caused it. The whites of Schröder’s eyes were as conspicuous as he’d ever seen them. Desperate.

Bucky swiftly got the sense that the life of his former captor was lost, and frankly, he didn’t care enough to watch him die. He left what remained of Schröder’s form to continue writhing on the floor, choking and sputtering for a breath that would never come, and went after you.

Downstairs, he found you hunched over the kitchen sink—spitting, retching, and trembling, too, but breathing.

You let the water from the faucet fill your mouth, and you rinsed again. You winced as something stuck your cheek.

Bucky drew closer, quickly, and when he was right by your side, he saw you spit a shard of glass into the sink. He looked over to the counter, and he spotted three more

They were minuscule, really. Nothing quite the size to leave a wound too deep, but sharp enough to cut your lips, your tongue, or the insides of your cheeks. When Bucky leaned in, he saw droplets of red joining the flow of the water beneath it. You coughed over and over again

“Don’t,” you croaked, seeing Bucky reach for the glass.

Before he could reply: “It’s the poison. From Madripoor.”

Your husband’s blood went cold in his veins. He didn’t touch the glass, but he did press closer to you, feeling his insides churn as the cogs started to turn in his head.

The vial of poison you’d been given to slip in Schröder’s drink at the Foxy Den—how the hell had you gotten it back? Why would you think you needed it, if he— but no, that couldn’t be the case. There wasn’t a shot you just—

“—put it in your mouth?” Bucky couldn’t curb the fear in his voice. He reached for you and spun you to face him.

“Did it kill him?”

Your eyes were wide for entirely different reasons. Bucky couldn’t believe what he was seeing; his mouth was dry.

“I didn’t want to kiss him,” you went on, voice shaking a little, “I didn’t— I just— I couldn’t get him the poison any other way. I knew he’d kiss me again, and when he did—”

“I know,” Bucky said. He smoothed the hair from your face, shaking his head. Feeling his stomach clench with fear and dread as he hurried to get a look in your mouth.

You’d snuck the vial inside your cheek, then crushed it between your teeth before Schröder had kissed you. You’d all but forced him to swallow the poison, shoving your tongue down his throat, but what of the stuff that remained? The rough, trembling fingers of Bucky’s hand were trying to pry your lips apart as gently as they could, ensure all the serum was out, but at present, you wouldn’t let him. You pushed back gently, though not too far to prevent your own touch from roaming his shoulder.

“The bullet—” you started.

“Barely nicked me,” Bucky cut in, “Baby, I need to see—”

That you’re safe. That you won’t be hurt in any way. He couldn’t finish the thought himself, having seen what the poison did to Schröder. Instead, he just held you closer and fought the lump that was starting to form in his throat. Adrenaline had worked well enough to clear his mind of the haze, but the rest of him was all high-strung.

Your clothes clung to you both, wet with blood and sweat. Your breaths were fast. Your expressions were feral, eyes no calmer as they scanned over the other’s form and soaked in every trace of what had happened. Bucky in his formalwear and you in something close to a chemise—like your honeymoon night all over again—you each got a glimpse of the gore ornamenting yourselves and let the room fall quiet, if only for a minute or two.

Your husband was the one to break the silence, at length, with cracked and grisly hands sliding down to your hips.

“You’re okay?”

His touch shifted you back in place to sit on the counter.

“I’m alright.”

You wanted to say more; assure him, in a voice as sedate as you could manage, that this wasn’t his fault. Whether he would believe a word of what you said was a separate question, but, at any rate, it didn’t matter. The next thing you knew, Bucky was slotting himself in the space between your legs and pulling you into his arms.

In spite of himself and all the wounds, he held you tight.

“You’re alright,” he repeated.

His face sank into the crook of your neck, and you felt his muscles contract again—pulling you closer—as he drew a shaky breath against your skin. You hugged him back.

“Are you?” Your voice was small.

In a blink, Bucky resurfaced. He lifted his head from your neck and, still holding you, hadn’t seemed to have heard.

“The baby,” he said quickly.

He stepped back. Lowered his gaze and his hands to trail over your hips and near your stomach, and he stared, as if trying to make sense of something dire. His blue eyes were wide, and they assumed such a look of panic that you feared a blood vessel might actually burst in one.

After all the great lengths he’d gone to, ensuring you were safe and taking extra precautions, on the off-chance you might be pregnant, here you were.

And there he went, sliding his touch lower and lower again until his hand was pressed into your belly, and the gaze you’d once thought soft before had all but melted into tenderness—delicacy. Complete, loving unreserve.

When his eyes met yours a second time, they were shiny.

Wet with the only kind of tears you’d want to see in them.

“You’re really…” he started, just to taper off, blinking.

And then his cheeks were dotted with the tiny, round droplets, and he’d finally ventured a smile for the first time in what seemed like ages and you couldn’t keep from reaching for him. The second you’d lifted your arms you were back in his, lips and nose smushed against the front of his stained white button-up and breathing deep.

Or trying to, anyway. Bucky had you squeezed so tight to his chest you had nothing but his shirt to inhale at first. You didn’t mind, and when he pulled away a moment later, you realized that your eyes, too, were filling up quick. You had to steel yourself against a maelstrom of emotions that threatened to emerge—the aftermath of a half-dozen traumas laid bare over the last hour—but the longer you were here, and the more your husband stared at you like that, the quicker your courage was depleted. In the span of five seconds, your senses were shot to hell. All you could think was what you could feel, and all you felt was Bucky: his arms and his hands and the raw, blistering heat between your bodies. The rest was noise.

It surprised you both when you kissed him. Physically, your mouth and his were hardly up to do it, injured as they were, but the impulse was strong, and it flowed between you. As soon as your lips latched onto his, Bucky was holding your face, molding his body to yours without so much as a second thought, and the mouth you met was sturdy. Hungry in the way it kissed back.

A string of words from Schröder flashed in your mind—‘Never be safe’—and you grit your teeth together, snagging the cusp of Bucky’s lower lip as you did it. He groaned. Before you could even try to apologize, though, he was gripping your face harder in his hands and coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. His front was still flush with yours, and your legs were starting to wind around his hips. Your husband nudged you back against the cabinets, and from the force of that push, you felt it.

Felt him.

Surely, it had had to take two very fucked up individuals to get all hot and bothered from a bloodbath that had just taken place; but, again, here you were—together.

And there you went, grinding your lower half with his.

“Doll?” Bucky broke out, word slurred just a little.

For a second, you thought he was going to stop you. Your eyes scanned his, and you were already planning to apologize for being so horny, it must just be the—

“You know I love you, right?” he breathed.

You blinked. You were about to nod, when you felt the bulge in his slacks start to rub against your barely-clothed heat, and something akin to a shockwave coursed through your frame. It couldn’t be helped. A monsoon of hyper-sensitized pleasure trembled over the skin in a way you’d never felt it before, and suddenly you were letting out a moan: a muffled cry of, ‘Yes, I-I know.’

Your husband swallowed and stared, slightly taken aback by the reaction his erection had produced. He’d never felt that either. At least from what he could remember.

The truth was that he’d never had a pregnant wife before—someone whose body was now extraordinarily responsive to his touch, nearly aching for him.

When you scooted your butt to the edge of the counter and dug your heels in the backs of his legs, humping him, almost, he got the idea. Bucky swallowed again.

“I love you too, I— I—” you started, already out of breath, “I just really need you to fuck me. Can you— please—”

Bucky didn’t need to be asked once, much less twice. He already had his belt, button, and zip undone before you could even look down, and then your own pyjama shorts were sliding off too. The counter was cool against your skin, but your husband’s warmth was more than enough to compensate for the loss. You smiled again, sheepish.

“It’s just…hormones,” you said, quieter toward the end.

You weren’t sure why you felt so ashamed to simply say, ‘James, I’ve been damn near insane with desire ever since you put a baby in me. Can you give me five more?’ But you did. You felt your cheeks start to heat as your lower half was left exposed to the air, and Bucky slipped his hand down between your legs, practically groaning:

“Honey, you’re soaked.”

There wasn’t one iota of shame in his tone.

He was more than happy to find you drenched beneath his touch. He had a smile on his face and a warmth bleeding from every fingertip as he caressed that soft, tender spot. You didn’t need to tell him what was on your mind, either. He sensed something was making you shy, and rather than have you say it aloud, he just touched you gentler, stroked the skin more affectionately, and tilted his head so only you could hear him, quiet as ever:

“That’s my girl. Feeling good for me?”

You felt your heartbeat between your thighs.

“My baby,” Bucky went on, voice dulcet and slow.

Your body was trembling at the edge, waiting. Impatient.

“My wife,” he said that with a smile, into your neck.

He lowered you onto his length, and you whined.

“Mother of my child.” The smile got bigger.

You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. Feeling him slide inside the most precious, wet, pliable part of you, stretching you out, you couldn’t help the sounds you made. You felt full in a whole new way; the groan Bucky let out when you were impaled down to the base of his cock said he shared the feeling. He throbbed inside you.

“You’re—fuck.” Bucky’s words broke off at the sensation.

Your walls were as slick as ever, your body delicate, rolling your hips to the first gentle thrusts that his shaft carved inside. Neither one of you could last long like this.

Still, at the threat of sublime pleasure, you felt fear, briefly: Schröder’s implacable stare—and the thousands more like him in HYDRA. You couldn’t help but grip Bucky tighter, willing these thoughts away with the rhythm of your body over his. Feeling him fill you up, fuck you with quick, deliberate thrusts and hold you, ‘That’s it, take what you need, sweet girl, you’re okay.’

You wished you were. You wanted to be. With every stab of Bucky’s hips, you hoped this would be the last night you ever feared for you or your child’s life, but deep down, you knew that wasn’t true. This was everything your husband’s varied ‘enterprises’ entailed, and a life with him meant never knowing a day without it—fear.

The head of Bucky’s cock grazed an especially sensitive ridge in your walls, and you whimpered into his shoulder.

You smelled blood.

He pushed you back against the counter and pounded harder, breaths heavy and labored and gruff as he spoke:

“You’re okay, baby, it’s alright.”

Your mind tried clinging to that thought, nodding along as if to convince yourself. The pleasure grew stronger, and your body was hot. Everything was heightened. Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes or his lips or his rough, bloodied touch from roaming you wherever he could reach, and he kept rutting his hips, assuring you gently, again and again, that it was all okay. He was right here.

The pleasure from the depths of your body was beyond your control—you couldn’t help it when the band inside of you snapped. You held Bucky closer and you moaned, more desperate and needy and soaking for him, taking something from him, and knowing the bliss you felt would only steal the dark thoughts for a moment or two.

Bucky’s eyes said it just the same. He couldn’t keep stuffing you full, feeling his pleasure hit its peak, and finally painting your insides without sharing that look.

You were less than halfway down from your highs when you felt him go still, panting fast, then hold your face.

“I love you.”

It was desperate. Hoping for something.

“I love you, too,” you told him, and you meant it.

But there was more. Both of you knew there was more.

“I can’t be married to you, Bucky.”

You didn’t know why it had to come out now, but the emotions were there—his gaze had all but drawn it out.

Still sheathed inside you, your husband tensed. He looked as if he might try and shake his head, but the movement was stalled by his own momentary shock. He’d known the words were coming, but the sound of you saying them now wasn’t any less jarring to hear. Before he could reply, you found yourself cutting back in:

“Not now, at least. We need some…time. To think.”

You weren’t sure what you were saying, just that your lips were moving and every new word was hurting him more.

“Even with Schröder gone, there are so many…dangers for both—or, all—of us, and I don’t know…I just can’t—”

—imagine bringing a child into a world like this. Like his.

You didn’t need to say it.

The pain in Bucky’s eyes already communicated as much, and the conviction in your own only convinced him that you’d meant it—and what you said was the truth. You couldn’t stay in a marriage that wasn’t safe.

Just as you opened your mouth to say something more, the man surprised you when he squeezed your hand.

Nodding, almost imperceptibly, in front of you.

“I can wait,” he said, “Whenever you’re ready, doll.”

His voice was hoarse, words strained from the lump in his throat as he spoke, but the message was sincere.

“Whenever you feel safe,” he added, softly.

You wanted to hold him again. Like before, your eyes began to well with something stinging and harsh, but the look you’d fixed on him was filled with nothing but love. You would’ve reached for him then, if he hadn’t moved his hand to his pocket. He felt around inside it, briefly.

Then Bucky retrieved your wedding ring.

Holding you up against him, pressed snugly into the counter with your legs still wrapped around his lower half, he pinched the silver band between his forefinger and thumb and held it up to you. It glistened in the light.

“The next time you wear it, I want it to be because you chose to marry me. Not for anything, or anyone, else.”

Nothing arranged, no game, no being forced to stay.

You nodded and had to blink through a layer of tears.

Bucky’s thumb traced the moisture, cupping your cheek in one of his hands. He’d had to keep blinking himself, and before you could reach for him, he kissed you.

“I really hope you marry me again one day, Mrs. Barnes.”

You smiled, having parted but still holding on.

“I think I would like that, too. One day.”

The next thing you heard was a sound at the front door: what sounded like a crash. Half a dozen sets of feet stumbling inside, crowding the foyer, making a loud, frantic clamor that you and Bucky knew only too well. The two of you scrambled to get your clothes back on as Steve, Nat, Sam, and Sharon all seemed to yell at once.

You had one hell of a story to tell them.

Taglist: @vicmc624 @she-could-never @mcira @kentokaze @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007 @wilsons-striped-ties @pono-pura-vida @geminiflanagansblog @buggy14 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @kunakizen @ghostiebby06 @blackhawkfanatic @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @lunaroserites @first-edition @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @mostlymarvelgirl @yujyujj @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @5thgoddess @oogaboogabeepboop @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @mimimarvelingmarvel @counteveresttt @thepetitemandalorian @diannana @aagn360 @aka-tua-braindump @shortnloud @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @ladyvenera @gyokujyn @bigtreefest @winterschildren8 @mega-kittyglitter-1

[woso-dreamzzz]

Loud

Mapi León x Reader x Ingrid Engen

Summary: You and Mapi have always been loud

*TW: referenced sexual content*

It starts off with you and Mapi.

You’d grown up together, fallen in love under the slide at school when Mapi pushed over annoying Matty P for pulling on your pigtails. She’d been your knight in…well not really shining armour but definitely your knight in shining shoes.

You did everything together. Eating. Sleeping. Playing football.

You were attached at the hip and then Ingrid came along.

A tall Norwegian woman who had your jaw falling to the ground and Mapi nearly walking into a pole.

Opening up your relationship wasn’t new to the pair of you. At first, it had just been sex but sex spiralled into a third in the relationship and that usually ended up in a breakup.

But not with Ingrid.

You’d opened up your bed for her, already weak at the knees the moment she took her clothes on and very bluntly told you and Mapi to put on a show for her.

And you’d certainly done that.

You’d put on enough of a show that she’d taken you both that night, in all the positions you liked and ended it all with you and Mapi holding hands over Ingrid’s stomach as you lazily kissed while your heads rested on her chest, her hands gently stroking both of your hairs.

And, like always, sex spiralled into a relationship but the breakup never came.

Ingrid fit so perfectly into you life and your relationship, adored by you, Mapi and Bagheera. Two princesses in the house to spoil and love, although one of them never got to travel with you much to everyone’s disappointment.

“You’ve got something there!” Mapi declares, her voice booming loudly across the dining hall and you look up from your plate.

You were deep in discussion with some of the others but you stop immediately to turn to look at Mapi.

Your table is nearly full, just one seat empty next to you. Ingrid sits on your other side, talking softly to Frido while Esmee and Aitana talk next to them and Alexia and Irene sit opposite.

“What?!” You yell back.

Mapi’s across the room from you, still at the buffet and trying to fill up her plate with food that looks like it’s going to tumble onto the floor any minute now.

“You’ve got something on your face!” Mapi replies, her voice just as loud and clear as before.

You frown, wiping your face with a napkin but seeing no kind of staining as you pull it away. You frown.

“Did I get it?!”

Mapi doesn’t even need to come closer to answer. “No!”

“Where is it?!”

“Do you have to yell?” Irene gripes good-naturedly but you and Mapi are so loud that you don’t even register her talking.

A hand grips your chin though. Ingrid’s slender fingers angle your face towards her and you go willingly. She moves your face around, eyes narrowed as she tries to see what Mapi had so clearly seen from across the room.

“There’s nothing,” Ingrid says, leaning forward to press a flutter of kisses onto your lips,” I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Mapi’s silly,” You agree.

“Mapi’s loud,” You hear Frido complain.

“They’re both loud,” Ingrid says over her shoulder though her eyes stay on you.

You fight to keep the blush off your face.

You and Mapi are both loud, something Ingrid is intimately familiar. You’re loud on the pitch and off the pitch and definitely in bed, though the only other person in the team that knows that is Ingrid.

She seemed to thrive on it, to make you and Mapi moan louder and louder. She took it as a challenge, to string as much pleasure out of both of you until you’re just a crescendo trying to come back down.

But nobody else knew that was what Ingrid was referencing and you fight to keep your face turning bright red.

Ingrid’s hand drops from your face to take your own under the table and you smile as you pick your fork up again.

“I haven’t got anything on my face!” You tell Mapi as she sits down next to you. “Hey! Don’t take my food!”

You swat at Mapi’s grabby hands but Ingrid’s tug on your other one has you stopping.

“Sharing is caring!” Mapi laughs and you stick your tongue out,” And you’ve still got it on your face.”

“I haven’t got anything on my face!”

Mapi leans closer and crashes her lips against yours.

“You had my lips on your face,” She teases, tapping your nose with her finger,” I could see them from a mile away!”

You laugh at that, the head thrown back kind of laugh as you and Mapi snicker together. Even Ingrid, consistently the quietest member of your relationship, lets out a little chuckle.

“Come on,” Irene groans,” You’re telling me you enjoyed that?”

“Mapi’s jokes are funny!” You defend, still laughing and Irene rolls her eyes fondly.

Honestly, you thought she would be used to Mapi’s antics by now but Irene likes to pretend to be surprised every time.

“I will never get your sense of humour,” Is what Irene decides on as a response.

“You can always ignore us!” Mapi says with a rbight smile and Irene rolls her eyes again.

“No one can ignore you two. You’re both so loud.”

“Actually, I have to talk to you about your loudness,” Alexia says, one of the few things she’s said this morning before finishing her coffee,” It kept us all up last night.”

Ingrid’s hand squeezes yours and you almost choke on your food.

“What?”

“Look, I don’t care what card game you were playing but can we stop playing so late at night? I get you guys are competitive but those walls are thick and I could still kind of here you guys going at it.”

You and Mapi exchange panicked looks. For once, you’re both speechless, mouths opening and closing as you try to think of something to say.

“Don’t worry, Alexia,” Ingrid says, her hand still holding yours,” I’ll keep them both a bit quieter tonight. You know how they get.”

Oh, Alexia didn’t know the half of it.

“Thank you, Ingrid,” You captain says,” At least you can keep those two in line.”

“Of course.”

Mapi coughs a little bit, speaking under her breath so only you can hear as you exchange secret smiles. “Ingrid’s the one keeping us loud.”

[mapis-putellas]

𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 2203

Warnings: none

Summary: when Alexia is sick and more stubborn than ever, yo do everything possible to make her feel better. [Based on this request, though I did change it up a little to make it fit alexia better. I hope that’s okay.]

[prompts]

It was rather late when you wonder into the living room from your shared bedroom, spotting Alexia sat on the couch clad in one of your shirts and a pair of baggy sweatpants just where you'd left her a few hours ago. In her hands was a small notepad and pen, and her eyes were fixated on the TV in front of her where one of her last Barça matches was playing.

It was against Sociedad, and they'd won, of course, but win or lose Alexia always had to watch the match back. There was always something she was under the impression she could fix. Always something she or someone else could do better.

Analysing, is what she likes to call it. Obsessing is what it actually was.

Normally, you were content to leave her be. However, today, you weren't so keen to let her do so. She'd woken up somewhat under the weather this morning. Nothing too terrible. Just the sniffles and maybe a light fever if her flushed skin was anything to go by, but despite that all you wanted her to do was relax. Maybe take some medicine or eat some soup. But getting Alexia getting her to admit she was sick was like trying to find something to watch on Netflix; almost impossible and always ends in a fight.

And so you had simply watched. You'd watched as she'd stifle somewhat heavy sneezes into the back of her wrist. You'd watched as she'd swallow heavily before wincing and reaching for the warm tea you'd purposely left out for her. And you'd even watched as she laid her head back against the couch before rubbing at her temples. All you had wanted to do was to pull her into your arms and convince her to let you look after her. But you hadn't, despite how much it had pained you to do so.

With a quiet exhale, you make your way properly into the room and sit down on the opposite side of the couch. Due to the fact that she was still so enthralled with the TV, you're able to give her a quick once over without her noticing. She appears okay, you think to yourself as you watch her scribble something on her notepad. A little sleepy maybe, but that was to be expected after a long day at training. But despite your longing for that to be the truth, you knew for a fact that it wasn't.

Alexia was amazing at hiding the fact she was sick. The last time it had happened was almost six months ago, and you'd been none the wiser until Mapi had snitched on her one night after training.

Alexia had cursed at her. Mapi made a sarky comment in response and whilst the two of them had chased each other around the house yelling obscenities at each other, you'd been left to sit on the couch trying to figure out just how you'd been so oblivious. There were no signs. No symptoms. She went to work, slept and ate fine and was still her usual stubborn self at home with you. In the end, it taken Ingrid comforting you to realise you weren't at all oblivious and Alexia was simply just really good at pretending to be okay.

It tells you now that despite the nonchalance she was currently displaying on the outside, beneath the surface was an completely different story that for some reason she doesn't want you to see.

It wasn't that she doesn't trust you because you knew for a fact she does. You'd been through way too much together for that not to be the case honestly. It was just how Alexia was, So, so stubborn.

The room goes quiet a few moments later, and you flicker your gaze away from Alexia and over to the tv to see that it was now off. In the reflection of the screen you could see Alexia setting her notepad onto the table along with the remote and pen. You look back at her just in time to see her stifle a quiet sneeze into her the back of her wrist.

"Bless you." You murmur, speaking for the first time in what feels like forever. Alexia does no more than nod with a smile that looks more like a grimace, settling back against the couch with a quiet sigh.

You do no more than watch her for a second before turning around in your seat and holding out your arms. Alexia raises an eyebrow, and you were quick to shrug as you spread your legs, one on the ground and one laid flush against the back of the couch.

Right now, you had no ulterior motives, you just simply wanted to hold her. Seeing the fact that you were being genuine, Alexia crawls over to you and all but collapses against your chest. She curls up on her side, letting out a congested sigh as she secures her arms around your waist with her cheek flush against your sternum.

You wrap your arms tightly around her shoulders, your hand cupping the back of her head as you press a kiss to the top of it and let out a quiet sigh. No words were spoken. They didn't need to be. You both knew for a fact she wasn't feeling all too great but neither one of you were willing to admit it for completely different reasons.

Right now, however, you weren't too concerned. She was allowing you to hold her, to comfort her, and that was way more than she'd done the last time and for that you were incredibly grateful. As you lay there in a comfortable silence, you feel Alexia slowly but surely growing more limp against you. Her breathing slows; her arms loosen, and when you look down, you see that her eyes were now closed.

Not quite knowing if she was completely out for the count just yet, you make sure to keep as still as possible as you trail your hand up and down the length of her back. Her head shifts slightly, now buried into your neck, and you feel more than hear the slightly raspy breaths that hit your skin. It takes a further ten minutes before you were sure she was actually asleep, allowing you to reach for one of the many blankets you kept on the back of your couch before laying it over the both of you.

You tuck it beneath her body, making sure it covered all of her so that only her head was peeking out. Alexia doesn't make a peep as you scoot a little further down the couch so that you were properly laying down, and you sigh a little in relief as you allow your own eyes to close . If she didn't want to admit she was sick, or take any medicine or eat any soup, you were at least grateful she was allowing herself to get some much needed rest.

*

You wake up the next day feeling uncomfortably hot, your skin damp with sweat and your cheeks deeply flushed. There was a heavy weight on top of you, and as you force your eyes open and glance down, you see that it was Alexia and that she hadn't moved a single inch throughout the entirety of the night.

With a quiet groan, you yank off the blanket in hopes it would help cool you down a little. It doesn't, and it makes you realist that it wasn't the blanket that was making you hot, but a very fever induced Alexia.

You take a few seconds to contemplate your next actions before slowly and reluctantly slipping out from beneath her. You land on your knees, soothing Alexia's furrowed brow with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"It's okay. I'll be back." You whisper hoarsely, blinking the sleep out of your eyes as you rise to your feet and head through to the kitchen to grab the things you would need to help Alexia feel at least a little better.

You grab a cloth, soaking it with cool water before squeezing out the remanence and placing it onto the counter. You then grab some cold medicine along with some Tylenol, taking a mental note of the dosage Alexia was allowed to have as you carry everything back through to the living room.

Alexia was thankfully still asleep, although now she was laid on her back. Her breathing was so hoarse it almost sounded like snoring, and you can't help but smile slightly as you perch on the end of the couch and place the cool cloth on her forehead. Her brows furrow as her head turns a little to the left, and you place a gentle hand on her chest, rubbing it in gentle circles in hopes it would help sooth her.

It appears to do so, but her eyes do flicker open, her gaze hazy due to her fever.

"Hey, you," You murmur, stilling your hand before bringing it up and gently cupping her cheek. "You're pretty sick."

Alexia simply blinks as she brings a clumsy hand up to try and push off the washcloth on her forehead. You shake your head as you take her hand in your own, giving it a gentle squeeze and guiding it back down to her side.

"No, baby. Keep that on. You have a fever."

Alexia blinks again, her face scrunching up in mild discomfort as she lets out a single, hoarse sounding cough. You wince a little at the sound as you reach for the cold medicine, pouring the allotted dose onto the small plastic cup before holding it to her lips.

"No." She grunts, clumsily trying to bat your hand away. Her efforts prove futile as you move the cup before it could be hit, earning yourself a rather grumpy pout.

"I know," you sooth, reaching up to adjust the wash cloth slightly. "But it'll help you feel better, baby. You know this."

Alexia sniffles before once again shaking her head. She eyes the cup in your hand with a dirty glare, almost as though it was offending her by simply existing. You can't help but laugh a little despite the concern you were feeling.

"Alexia..." you trail off.

"No." She murmurs.

"Baby, come on," You shift a little closer, leaning down to press a kiss to her flushed cheek. The heat the greats you makes you all the more determined to get some medicine into her. "For me, please?" You weren't against begging if that's what was necessary.

Alexia hesitates before letting out a quiet whine. It was evident she didn't quite know what to do. She didn't want to take the medicine, but she didn't want to upset you by not talking it either. She stares at you with a pleading look on her face, her bottom lip quivering just slightly.

"I know," you whisper in understanding. "How about we come to a compromise?"

Alexia's gaze flickers over to the cold medicine you hands before looking back at you, almost as though she was saying anything but that.

"You don't have to take the cold medicine right now, but only if you take some Tylenol to help get rid of that fever." You say, and though Alexia hesitates again, this time she nods her head making you let out an almost silent sigh of relief.

Progress.

"Good girl," You praise genuinely, switching the cold medicine with the Tylenol pills, holding a single one to her lips. Alexia's lips part, and you set the pill on her tongue before helping her swallow it down with some water. "Good job. One more, baby." You assure, repeating the process once more before capping the bottle of water and taking her hand in your own.

Alexia squeezes weakly as she sniffles again, heavy lids threatening to close as she stares up at you with a pleading look on her face.

"What do you need baby?" You ask, trailing the pad of your thumb over the back of her hand.

Alexia wets her dry lips with her tongue as she reaches to loosely grab your shirt. "Cuddle." Is all she says, and though you internally wince about being once again trapped beneath your own personal furnace, you don't hesitate to nod your head as you slip back beneath her in the same position you'd been in before.

Alexia coughs hoarsely as she clings to your shirt, her cheek flush against your chest as her eyes once again slip closed. You use one hand to hold the still cool washcloth to her forehead as the other slips beneath her shirt to trail gentle circles on the too warm skin of her bare back.

"Thank you for letting me look after you." You whisper into her hair as you press your lips against the top of her head in a lingering kiss. Alexia says nothing, but she does crane her head up to press a kiss to your neck although it was more so just a brush of lips against the skin.

"Go to sleep baby. I've got you."

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @xxnaiaxx @marysfics @liloandstitchstan

[chilumi-shipper]

Soulbound

Zhongli x GN!Reader (Soulmate!AU)

Summary: Zhongli hated the mark on his neck, and he hated whoever the mark bounded him to. But fate plays a cruel joke, matching him with you, as he swore he would love no one else but Guizhong.

Tags: Angst/No Comfort, Short Story, Rejection, Hurtful Words, Hatred to Love

Soulmark - A mark that binds two individuals as soulmates.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Morax had always been frustrated by the mark on his neck.

A glowing, permanent part of his body that marks him tied to a soulmate. He thinks its stupid, for the love of his life was already in front of him, a gray-haired inventor that no carving in his body could ever stop him from adoring.

He finds it unbelievable that his neck is claimed by a soulmark yet Guizhong's remain blank, and he curses Celestia above for such a foul joke.

How could he be for anyone else but her?

When her dust settled in the field of glaze lilies he thought were incomparable to her beauty, he was utterly devasted, his clawed hands held onto his neck, wanting to rip the soulmark that had been taunting him for centuries.

How could he be marked for someone else while the love of his life laid lifeless?

He loathed his mark, everything about it, and he will till his last breath.

...

Zhongli deeply dislikes you.

You are a messy, silly, babbling buffoon.

An adventurer from Mondstadt that embodies the nation's will of freedom. Bubbly, carefree, and loud, much like a fellow god he didn't particularly like.

Despite of his disdain of you, your affection towards him never wavered. You filled his somber days with excitement as you joyfully tell him stories about your adventures, share some new recipes you've learned, even ushering him to talk about obscure Liyue historical facts that you've always found interesting.

He was much too proper to shoo you away, and his cold looks and short responses didn't discourage you to try to make friends with the man that peeked your curiosity.

Ever so slowly, you had pried open his caged heart, planting a small seed that was so distinctly you.

He would have accepted you, he would have seen you as a friend... and yet...

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a faint, familiar mark on your neck, revealed when you put your hair up into a ponytail.

Zhongli knew he truly disliked you.

...

"I don't believe in the marks either, Mr. Zhongli..." You reasoned with him, but his gaze still stung you with daggers.

He caged himself back up, ensuring that you could not care for the little seed you planted, no light would be able to reach it again.

His heart would not open...

No matter how many times he catches himself smiling at your antics.

No matter if he displays every gift and trinket you give him from your travels.

No matter how much he preferred your cooking over anyone else's.

No matter how beautiful you look staring up at him with your doe eyes as you confess your affection.

No matter how frustrated he felt at himself when he made you cry as he rejects your feelings.

Because, for him, how could there be anyone else but her?

...

"Do you see why it could never be you?"

You both stood in front of a monument, surrounded by various plants and objects you assume to be from friends of this ancient goddess.

"I bet she was amazing."

"She was perfect. Perhaps that's why I was not worthy to share a mark with her."

At this point, you were used to his words, how they praise her, how they degrade you.

"You're pretty great too, Zhongli..."

Faith places identical marks on the necks of two soulmates, and the rest is a romantic story of the passion that builds up as people pursue their marks of love.

Fate is cruel to you and him.

"That mark is not for you, Y/N." The Geo Archon says to you, tearing you apart silently, as you stand and take his words.

His heart quivers despite the harsh words coming from his own mouth. Even after millennia of having the mark engraved on his neck, after concluding that maybe he would allow your little seed to prosper even just for a bit, he still chooses to cling onto his hopeless past.

Tears fall down from your eyes, but you remain quiet, only nodding in agreement.

You loathed the mark on your neck.

...

Zhongli opens the cage of his heart a little, allowing him to peak at the small sprout from the seed you planted.

So distinctly you, it was the only thing he has of you.

After letting you leave him at Guizhong's monument with tears still staining your face, he couldn't help but miss you.

He couldn't help but let you finally take your place in his heart, after so long of hating his soulmark, hating whoever the mark tied him to, he fears he has finally accepted faith.

...

"Where is it?" He grips your arm harshly, his hold not faltering as you try to shake him off. His gaze was cold, yet you could still catch the hint of alarm in his eyes. "What have you done?"

After weeks... you return to him... missing something.

You winced at the stress of his words, feeling frightened under his tense hold. "I..." His bruising grip didn't falter, urging you to explain yourself. "S-Surprise...?"

"You..." Zhongli looks at you in disbelief. "How stupid could you be?"

"M-Mr. Zhongli... it's a blessing of the Anemo Archon... I prayed for him set us free from fate."

"Y/N... I..." He was at a loss for words, his heart ached as his eyes searched your neck in vain. "Fate... going against it is painful. It must've been excruciating."

"It was... but this if for you, Zhongli..." You smiled, feeling him loosen his grip. "Because I love... loved you." You fully free yourself from him, rubbing at where he previously held you.

The wind around him picked up, and he hears the faint whispers of an old friend along with it. Whispers of comfort, as he clearly ruined what would have been the light of the rest of his days.

Your soulmark fades, but his remains...

Zhongli loathed his mark, for it bears no meaning, no one but him bears that mark.

As you leave, trying to fade away in the background of his life, you remain under a spotlight in his eyes, for you will always be the one that shares his mark, no matter if it is visible.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

What y'all think of this one? :3

I bet y'all's feelings were hurt hehe

[toruily1]

jerking megumi off.

0.8k

MDNI

standing behind megumi, completely bare from the tips of your toes up to your flushed red neck, letting him guide your hand up and down his cock, teaching you how to please him the way he likes.

he's equally as red, his whole body burning up from embarrassment at the thought of someone seeing him in such a state. if it was anyone else, he wouldn't have even entertained the idea.

but its you, and he'd do anything for you.

so when you came to him with wide eyes and a shaky voice, asking him if he’d teach you to get him off he couldn’t help but say yes, his cock stirring in his pants at the thought of your hand on him, squeezing and—

“a little tighter” he mumbles squeezing your hand. “you’re not gonna hurt me”

you stand on your tippy toes, looking over his shoulder as you tighten the grip you have on him, moving your hand up and down his length.

from this angle you can see everything. from his abs down to his V line and the thatch of black hair that leads towards his heavy cock, sitting firmly in the palm of your hand.

“w-what else?” you question, and the corners of megumi's lips tug up into a small grin at how you sound even more

you chose to ignore the amusement you hear in his tone when he replies, “use your thumb and play with the tip— it’s sensitive”

you can see his fat purplish tip and the string of his sticky white pre that drips from the tip.

at that, your thumb comes up and begins rubbing at the head, smearing the sticky pre down the length of his shaft. megumi sucks in a breath and for a second you think you’ve done something wrong— hurt him somehow and you’re about to let go, but when your eyes flick up towards his face you realize it’s anything but.

you can tell he's into it now, his eyes are hooded, lips parted slightly as moans out for you.

“yeah baby fuckkk— just like that,” he groans, letting his head fall back to lean on your shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets you take the reins. the hand on top of yours falls to his side, as you pick up the pace, hand squeezing him just a little tighter.

your thumb moves away from his tip, wanting to take your time, knowing that wasn’t something you could do if he came too fast and from how loud he was getting it was clear he was getting close. he lets out a shudder as the intense pleasure begins to fade slightly, breathing slowing down.

it doesn’t take you long to find a steady pace, hand jerking up and down, every so often applying pressure to his tip that leaves him groaning as bursts of pleasure shoots through him.

he’s practicing leaking pre, leaving your hand sticky with his arousal, making the glide of your hand easier.

after megumi gets his breathing back to normal he takes your hand in his once again.

“I like to have my balls played with.”

his hand guides your further down to his sac and you instantly take it into your hand, squeezing and toying with each of his heavy balls.

megumi moans, his body tensing as he attempts to hold himself back, not wanting to cum too soon. It was a futile attempt, especially with you standing so close to him, your scent radiating off of you and clouding his senses.

the feeling of your body pressed against his, your hard nipples rubbing against his back as you squeeze your legs together, desperately searching for friction to your aching clit as you watch megumi get closer and closer to the edge.

the sounds he's making going straight to your core.

megumi reaches behind him, pushing your legs apart just enough to allow his hand to slip through, calloused fingers instantly finding your sticky clit.

“mmm megu'—” you whine, legs bucking beneath you as he rubs your clit. you don’t even realize your hand has stopped moving, simply holding him in your hand.

“keep goin” he commands, bucking up into your hand and you instantly start to stroke his length once again, going back up to focus on the tip.

“m’close” he murmurs quietly, you feel his dick twitch in your hand. the hand playing with his balls squeeze just a bit tighter, not enough to hurt but enough to have him letting out a long groan, deep and broken when it’s paired with a squeeze to his tip.

“shitttt” that’s all the warning you get before megumi is going rigid against you as thick spurts of cum shoot from his tip, landing on the floor in front of him. your hand continues to stroke him through his orgasm, moving up and down slowly until his hand wraps itself around your wrist, stopping your movements.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

No Words *ೃ༄

Summary: max defends his girlfriend and gets into trouble

𖤓 mv x reader ⋆｡°✩

𖤓 fluff + slight humour (iykyk) ⋆｡°✩

masterlist ☾☼

y/n had been a fan of formula one since she was a child. every parental figure in her life had been a fan of the sport, so it was natural and she got into it too. thankfully, it also made her realise very quickly in life that she wanted to work in the field of motorsports. she wasn't sure yet, and she was still working her way to getting into the sport, but it was a sure, clear path for her.

after meeting max, and falling in love with him, everything had changed. her family approved of the two of them, obviously, and so had his, though she hadn't cared much about jos' opinion. y/n made it clear in the beginning that she wanted to work in motorsports and she wanted to earn her place. she refused to let max talk her up or anything, because he was the kind of guy who would do just that for his girlfriend. max agreed, and promised to keep their relationship private for as long as she wanted.

it had taken her a few years. she bounced from indycar to motorgp to nascar and eventually made her way to f1 as a journalist. she had gained far more experience than she would've gotten if she had only focused on formula one, and she was confident in her abilities to finally be formula one.

max and her had stayed strong throughout, even if they kept their relationship private. she had met and become friends with daniel, lando, carlos, and all of max's friends. they often played padel together as well. mix the competitive spirits that max and she possessed, it was always fun.

after a year of being in formula one as a journalist, max and y/n had decided that it was time to stop hiding. they skipped the soft launch part, and jumped directly into the hard launch phase that left a lot of fans shook.

unfortunately, it also got her a lot of hate. y/n went from being one of the best journalists in f1 to one of the most hated ones for the same reasons that she was loved. the fans adored her because she was a woman of colour making a name for herself in such a sport, and that her parents had sacrificed a lot for her and she was making them proud. now, she was hated because her success became max's story and how he put in good words for her and how she was only with him for the money.

it broke her heart, but max was someone who had received a lot of hate before in his life, so he taught her all the ways to ignore the comments and focus on what she did best. it helped a great deal, but it also made her determined to prove that her career had nothing to do with max.

it was getting better, slowly and over time. max and y/n promised to never lose their temper on the comments. a lot of interviewers and fans had also asked the other drivers on the grid to comment on their relationship, asking if it was ethical for a journalist and a driver to date. but the other drivers always responded with the same thing, always saying how they've known max and y/n for a long time, and their relationship was no one else's business.

unfortunately, after a particularly hard race, max finally lost his cool.

"well, max, it's safe to say that this particular race of yours wasn't the best that you've performed. what do you have to say about that?"

"uh, nothing, really. we just didn't have the pace, and with some mistakes on my side, i lost a lot of points. but, i'm sure we can cover it up next race." max replied.

"you don't have to worry about us writing a bad article about you. your girlfriend and we will only be writing praises, don't you worry. the only difference would be that we won't take your hard earned money like she does," the interviewer laughed, nudging y/n.

the cameras were all focused on them, there were fans nearby, and other drivers. everyone was watching. it was live tv. the entire world was watching. the thick crowd of an audience had their gaze fixed on y/n, and all she could do in that moment was hang her head and try not to cry.

that's the moment max lost his cool. y/n was standing right there, and the interviewer had disrespected her on a very public platform.

"actually, my girlfriend will always tell me what i need to hear, whether it's good or bad. y/n y/l/n, a well known journalist, who is also standing right there with you, will write exactly what happened on track, because that's the part that she reports on. she made her own career, so fuck you for dismissing all of it." max bursted, before he stormed off.

the interviewer was spluttering, not sure how to react, but completely outraged as he forced the fia to take actions on max's outburst. y/n slipped away silently, needing to go back to max.

later on, the fia decided to punish max for using "language during the fia sunday press conference". their decision: obligation to accomplish some work of public interest.

later, an interviewer asked him if he regretted his decision of defending his girlfriend and getting a punishment, max responded, “no.”

“so, what do you think of the punishment given to you? do you think it’s fair?”

“no words.”

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

i hope you guys enjoyed this! i had a lot of fun writing this, mostly because i had no idea what my brain wanted me to write, but somehow i kept on typing. anyways, this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

[criminalamnesia]

Traitor part 8

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

here it is everyone :)) took me forever but it’s finally here! now I can disappear in peace lol. I’ll proofread everything later, but I hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations. thank you all for the love you’ve given this series. I hope this gives you some closure.

let me know if you want any drabbles from the series <3

thank you again!

after kyle finally leaves you alone, you slink back against the door, shutting your eyes so tightly stars dot your vision.

it never ends, does it?

apologies. worry. sympathy. pity.

it was in each of their eyes— the one-four-one. each of them trying to mask their pity for you behind sickening sympathy. you were exhausted of that look— not just from them, but from everyone you had walked past or looked at since everything had happened.

you open your eyes, scanning the room. what once had been a haven had become a hell. shattered glass sprinkled the floor near the mirror. clothes were still strewn about. you hadn’t bothered picking up what had been disturbed.

you’d be gone too soon for it to matter.

your phone rings then, the screen lighting up in the dimly lit room. you let the ring tone play for a second longer before you’re moving, reaching for the device on your nightstand.

it’s kate, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“hello?” you say as you answer the call.

“it’s kate,” comes the woman’s familiar voice through the speaker. “im on my way to base. should be there by tomorrow.”

you startle, eyebrows raising in confusion. “you’re coming here? why?”

you hear her sigh. “we can talk about it tomorrow. I need to meet with john, anyways. two birds, one stone and all that.” she tells you.

“can you at least tell me if the paper work is all set for my transfer?” you ask.

she doesn’t answer for a moment, and then:

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, sergeant. get some rest. you sound like you need it.”

you hear a click, and then the line goes dead. you furrow your brows as you look down at the phone in your hand.

why on earth would she come all the way here just to talk?

your mind is moving a mile a minute, and suddenly, it clicks.

laswell is coming here to do damage control.

you huff a mirthless laugh, dropping your phone as your hands come up to run through your hair.

you weren’t being reassigned. you were being discharged.

but was it at her insistence, or someone else’s?

you whip around, wrenching open the door and storming down the hall to price’s office. those you pass in the hallway give you bewildered stares, and suddenly you’re aware that you’re still in that damned robe, but you’re on a mission.

and when you start something, you see it through.

you don’t bother knocking as you reach price’s door. instead, you barge into the office, effectively interrupting an argument between price and simon. their voices die off, heads turning to appraise who had barged in.

price’s eyes widen at the sight of you, but simon’s face is as unreadable as always. the door clicks shut behind you, and you stalk towards the two men, your fists clenched as you seethe.

“you motherfuckers,” you hurl the words at them, “you fucking knew. you knew.”

“love, what are you talkin’ about?” price questions, his brows furrowed as he turns to you.

“laswell,” you say, and price’s eyes widen. he knows. and now he knows you know.

“whatever she told you—”

“she didn’t tell me shit,” you huff. “I figured it out. why the fuck else would she come here just to talk? she’s playing fucking babysitter, isn’t she?”

price doesn’t speak. your gaze flits to simon’s.

“I’m sure you were rooting for this outcome, weren’t you? couldn’t finish me off in that fucking room, but hey, this is just as good, isn’t it? sending me back to fucking nothing.”

“this job is my life,” you turn your attention back to the captain. “and you fuckers just can’t stop ruining it, can you?” your voice is raising, and tears prick the corners of your eyes. you’re becoming hysteric.

“all because of a fucking lie!” you’re yelling now, jabbing a finger into the chest of your former captain.

“calm down,” the sound of simon’s rough baritone leads your head to snap toward him. your eyes are wide, fury and terror blazing in them.

and he expects you to let loose. scream and hit and scream some more. but you don’t.

you stand there and you stare at him with those wide eyes. the rest of the room— hell, the world falls away— and it’s just him and you.

like it was on patrol during countless nights, your bare fingers dancing over his gloved hands as you prattled on about a show you liked.

on countless nights curled up in his bed, your back to him, pressed so close he could feel the beat of your heart in his own chest. his arms wrapped around you, one of your fingers lazily tracing the ink on his forearm. no words spoken, yet so much said.

in the field, when you and johnny bicker over comms and he takes your side. when you take a bullet to the shoulder and he holds pressure on it until evac arrives.

when he makes eye contact with you as you pin kyle to the training mat, finally able to overcome his strength. when price tells him you’re the rat and he doesn’t want to believe it.

it’s just him and you. a lieutenant and his sergeant. but it’s more than that.

it’s a deep understanding of this job being your life. of losing everything and everyone you hold dear. of finding family again in this team, and doing whatever it takes to keep that family safe.

and he fully realizes, then, what you have been condemned to.

what they condemned you to.

what he condemned you to.

he breaks from his thoughts as you slam your fist into his jaw.

price’s eyes widen, his feet carrying him forward to intervene, but simon waves him off as he cradles a hand to his jaw.

“let ‘em,” he grunts out, and price looks bewildered, but he nods. he takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides, and he lets you strike again.

“fuck you,” you seethe, and despite your best efforts, your voice cracks. emotion seeps in, and your eyes are wet as you swipe a leg out from under him, forcing him to his knees.

he falls with no grace, knees hitting the concrete floor with a dull thud. you’d cringe if this were any other circumstance.

instead, you deliver another blow, cracking his nose with the force of it. blood sprays out and wets your robe.

“ghost—” price begins from somewhere off to the side, but simon just shakes his head.

“fuck you, simon! fuck you!” you scream at him, and your fists are flying blindly as tears cloud your eyes.

and he just takes the hits. you subconsciously register the sound of the office door squeaking as it opens and quickly closes. price didn’t want to be a bystander any longer, it seems.

but he still didn’t jump in. was it because of ghost’s insistence? or because your captain didn’t want to watch one of his soldiers finally snap?

you finally stop yourself when blood drips from your knuckles. unsurprisingly, they’ve split again. there’s no doubt in your mind that there will be little scars between each of them once they’ve healed.

more to add to the reminder of everything. god, at this point you knew you’d never forget it even if you wanted to. even if you tried to. even if you did for a brief moment, those little white lines— discolored and jagged skin in the place of what should be smooth and unmarred, would be your reminder.

blood pools on the floor, a mix of yours and simon’s. you pay it no mind as you wipe the backs of your hands on your completely ruined robe. good— now you had a great excuse to throw the damned thing away.

you would’ve thrown it away anyways.

you bring your hands to your eyes, wiping away tears that had freed themselves their cage. you see simon clearly then, his face bloodied and yet still beautiful in that way of his. his nose is obviously broken. lacerations above his eye and on his cheekbones.

his eyes are staring back you, the icy blue of them never more intense than now.

you heave in your breaths as you look at him. his split lip cracks further as he opens his mouth.

“done?”

and you don’t have anything left to give, so you nod. then you slump to your knees, down onto his level, and you don’t look away from what you’ve done.

it’s no different than what you did to the doctor, or to countless enemies in the field. but, at the same time, it is different.

because it’s him, and he let you do this. he could have easily stopped you. he’d shown his strength against you numerous times on the sparring mat, picking you up and tossing you around with ease.

and yet he didn’t stop you.

“why?” you ask him, and it’s a loaded question. your voice is a watery tremble, and the word comes out as a whisper, but he doesn’t shy away.

he shrugs. “you needed it.”

he’s focusing on one aspect of the question— on why he let you hit him. you open your mouth to respond, but he surprises you by speaking again.

“least I could do,” he says.

you close your mouth, your chapped lips pressed into a thin line. why is he doing this now? saying this now? what changed?

“is it your fault, then? that I’m being discharged?” you find yourself asking, and you’re not sure if you want to know the answer.

maybe you just want a reason to hate him more.

“no,” he says, and you know he means it.

he never lied to you, regardless of any pain it may have saved. it was one of the things you had loved about him.

he sighs. “I didn’t want you to go.”

that surprises you. simon was never one to freely speak on his feelings. he had opened up to you during your relationship, but it was as if there was always an invisible line he could never cross. never did he utter the complete truth to his thoughts or feelings. and you had accepted that— because that is who he was.

and you would take him with all his walls if it just meant that you could have him.

“I don’t want you to.” he corrects himself.

the room falls silent around you. the part of you that still holds love for him yearns for his embrace at this moment. but you push that side of you down. you will not go crawling back, not after what happened.

“you’ve been an asshole,” you say, and he gives a curt nod.

“probably.” he concedes. “but I wouldn’ take anythin’ back. I told you, I meant what I said.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” you ask. god, he has a horrible way with words.

“no,” he tells you. “nothin’ I can say can do that.”

you snort. you fall back on you haunches, your hands in your lap as you look at him.

“I am never going to forgive you,” you tell him, words full of so much hurt.

he nods again. “I know. I don’ blame you. don’ expect you to, neither.”

“but I’m…” he starts, and his lips crease in a frown. “im sorry.”

you just look at him. perhaps you had wanted an apology at one moment in time, but now? now none of it mattered.

“I hope so,” you tell him. you move to stand, and he remains still. he hasn’t moved an inch since you’d finished your assault.

“I hope you feel this way for the rest of your lonely life. I hope that you never forget what you did to me, and I hope that it keeps you up at night. because I can tell you with certainty that I will never forget. and I hope the others remember, too. I hope it tears you all apart from the inside. that it follows you around for the rest of your career.”

you breathe in, then out. “and I hope no one ever gives you the chances I did,” your voice is soft. “because I would never wish what you did to me on the next person you think you love.”

his face conveys no emotion other than the small frown still on his lips. his eyes, so cold, have softened the tiniest bit. you used to love when you could bring out that softness inside of him. when it was just the two of you, your hand in his, his eyes on you.

those memories would suffocate you if you let them. what could’ve been will suffocate you. you refuse to let it.

you turn and stalk towards the door, not bothering to spare him another glance. you open it, stepping out into the hallway, coming face-to-face with the rest of the one-four-one.

their eyes are all wide as they take you in. your bloodied hands and robe. the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. you pull the door shut behind you before you speak.

“i don’t care to speak to kate,” you say to price, your eyes meeting his. “fuck her for not giving me a chance. and fuck you for laying down like a damn dog and not fighting for your fucking team.”

you turn to johnny next. “you shove your sorries up your ass, mactavish. I don’t want your sympathy, and I don’t want your pity. I hope your regret eats you alive.”

finally, kyle. “and you,” you glare at him. “if anyone other than simon should’ve defended me, it should’ve been you. I met you first, kyle. you were my closest friend, my brother. and you turned out to be just another fucking lap dog.”

you shake your head, blinking away hot tears. “I want you to get me temporary housing and a car because that’s the least you owe me, after ruining my life. and I don’t want to hear from any of you ever again. if I do, I guarantee you I will not show you the mercy you think you showed me when you had me tied up in that chair.”

none of them spoke, and you didn’t give them a chance to as you pushed past them, heading back toward your room to change.

a yellow cab retrieves you from base the next morning before kate arrives. it’s still dark outside when you leave the shelter that had once been home. rain pours down around you, a raging storm hanging overhead as it had all night prior. perhaps it was a reflection of your mood. you liked to think that it was.

you toss your duffle bag into the trunk, shutting it before climbing into the back seat. you hadn’t bothered to pack anything other than a few pairs of clothes you’d recovered from the floor of your room. everything else could be trashed, especially anything the boys had given you.

the driver doesn’t speak— price had given him all the information he needed— and paid him— before he’d fetched you. it seems your final outburst— and beating simon to a pulp— had finally put some urgency in his movements.

none of them had seen you off, per your request. you thought it was the least they could do for you after continuously disrespecting your boundaries.

(unbeknownst to you, simon had watched you leave through a window.)

the driver turned up the music— some pop song you didn’t know the name of— and you slumped in your seat, your head turned toward the window as you watched the rain race down it.

you found yourself drifting off quickly, and you didn’t try to fight it. you’re finally free of that place and the men you thought were your family. free of the anxiety of seeing them around every corner. free of the hate that sparked in your heart every time you heard their voices.

you sleep, and for the first time since before everything, it’s peaceful.

you wake to the taxi driver talking to you.

“we’re here,” he says, knocking on the glass separating the front and back seats. “can you get out now? I gotta get home. it’s my wife’s birthday.”

you blink the sleep from your eyes, nodding before you even register what he’s saying. “sorry,” you mumble as you fumble with the seat belt.

you slip from the car, your boots splashing in a muddy puddle. you grimace as the murky water seeps in, wetting your socks.

you trudge around to the back of the car, opening the trunk and retrieving your bag. you’ve just shut the trunk and stepped back when the car is driving off, kicking up mud that further dirties your boots and jeans.

you pay it little mind as you look at the small cottage before you.

nestled between some trees, it’s beautiful. a shingled roof. light blue paneled siding. a small front porch with a rocking chair and a bench swing. a beautiful dark blue door.

your favorite flowers live in the flower beds surrounding what you can see of the house. it makes you wonder if its a simple coincidence or if simon or price planned it.

how long have they known that you would have to come here? that you would have no where else to go except for where they put you?

you vowed that this house would just be temporary. you would get away from it as soon as possible, putting the rest of the one-four-one behind you. you didn’t want any of them knowing where to find you.

the rain slows to a sad drizzle. drops prick your skin as you make no effort to avoid puddles, splashing carelessly to the front door. you can hear birds beginning to chirp, slipping out of their hiding places as the sun’s rays begin to illuminate the earth once more.

a new beginning, you think.

you reach a hand toward the door knob, twisting it open and pushing inside. it’s a cozy little place with wood floors and a brick fireplace. it’s furnished, but there’s no personality to it. it clearly hasn’t been somebody’s home.

the door clicks shut behind you as you toe off your boots and drop your duffle by the door. as you nudge your boots out of the way with a foot, you notice an envelope on the floor.

eyebrows scrunched in confusion, you lean down and scoop it up. your name is written on the front in a scrawl you don’t recognize.

who else knows you’re here?

perhaps you’ll need to leave sooner than you thought.

you push your thumb under the seam, ripping it open with little finesse. inside is a typed letter. it’s an offer, you realize. a job offer.

its got an american stamp on it, and its signed by a phillip graves.

a new beginning indeed.

[hamza-gaza]

🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻📢📢📍Looooook they are burning in the tent ⛺💔💔😭😭

📍Dear friends and compassionate souls🛑❤️‍🩹🍉

My name is hamza and the voice of my family, and I am reaching out to you during one of the most challenging times in my life. My family and I are currently living in Gaza, and the situation here has become increasingly dire. With winter approaching and the threat of further conflict looming, we find ourselves in urgent need of assistance to evacuate and find safety.

And today i will show you pictures before the war and after the war .

Please donate to us we are civilians and we want to live👉🏻. https://gofund.me/abf54bf1

We are a family of 7 , including my elderly parents and young children. The stress of our current living conditions—struggling to find shelter and basic necessities—is overwhelming. Every small donation can make a tremendous difference, providing us with the means to escape this situation and start anew.

💔💔 **Help Save My Little Sister** 💔💔

Dear friends and kind-hearted souls,❤️🤍

I am reaching out with a heavy heart to share the struggles of my little sister, who is bravely battling Mediterranean fever. This chronic illness has taken a tremendous toll on her young life, and the absence of necessary medicine makes each day a fight against overwhelming pain. 😢💔

She deserves a chance to live without fear of the next attack, to laugh and play like any child should. But without the right treatment, her health continues to decline, leaving our family feeling helpless and desperate. 😭💔

Every bit of support, whether emotional or financial, means the world to us. Your kindness can help us find the resources she desperately needs to manage her condition. Together, we can give her hope and the chance to enjoy life again. 🌈💪

Please 🥺 share our story, offer your prayers, or anything else you can do to help. Your compassion can make a difference in her life! 🙏💖

Thank you from the bottom of our hearts👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻 click here

Your generosity can bring hope and warmth❤️‍🩹 to our lives during this challenging time. Please consider supporting us in any way you can🙏🏻, whether through a donation 🙏🏻🙏🏻or by sharing our campaign with others.🔗📌📢

From the bottom of our 🥰💕, thank you for your compassion and support.❤️‍🩹📍

Hamza and my family

https://gofund.me/abf54bf1

@el-shango-drew-and-shot @malcriaada @appsa @aces-and-anime @buttercuparry @ahaura @schooloutfitideas @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako @feluka @tamarrrra @familyabolisher @fleshdyk3

@decolonize-the-everything @heritageposts @palipunk-blog @gothhabiba @lonniemachin @aristotel @watermotif @stuckinapril @ @ghelgheli @determinate-negation @papasmoke @deepspaceboytoy @omegaversereloaded @xinakwans @givemearmstopraywith @k @deathlonging @palms-upturned @blackpearlblast @littlegermanboy @loveaankilaq @sar-soor

@malcriada @appsa @aces-and-anime @ahaura @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako @feluka @tamamita @familyabolisher @fleshdyk3

[ikeucity]

jealous of jennie.

pairing. bestfriends brother!jay x reader

warning. this story contains sexual content (18+), explicit language, jealousy, and miscommunication. mild angst, fluff, and humor, as well as awkward tension. lighthearted themes of slight degradation/humiliation and insecurity are present, along with consensual smut. mdni.

wc. 33.7k

── .✦⸝⸝ masterlist

jay’s been crushing on you for as long as he can remember, but he’s always been too shy to do anything about it. just when you finally start realizing how interested in him you are, he suddenly starts seeing someone else, and you're not sure you like it. jealousy creeps in, leaving you questioning your feelings—until you stumble upon one of jay's secrets, a “jennie” that changes everything.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and is not intended to portray real events or real people. the use of the name "jennie" has no connection to jennie of blackpink, nor is there any intent to sexualize her. any resemblance is purely coincidental. this also does not represent the real members of enhypen in any way. please don’t make it weird.

"so you're telling me, you thought making yeonjun jealous was gonna save your relationship?" you say, staring at hanna like you're trying to knock some sense into her. you emphasize each word, hoping it'll spark at least some shred of doubt about her terrible decision.

she's just sitting there, swirling her juice, while you pick a grape from the fruit bowl between you both at the kitchen island. and here she was, your best friend, diving headfirst into another trainwreck, as if you hadn't been through this with her a dozen times before.

"i mean, you don't think he'll care? you know him," she mumbles, eyes glued to the counter.

you let out a sigh. "oh, he'll care alright. but not in the way you're hoping."

hanna’s fingers fidget with the glass in front of her, the condensation dripping down her wrist. she avoids your gaze, chewing on her lip like she’s debating whether to defend her ridiculous plan or just give in.

typical. you can’t help but shake your head, taking another grape and popping it into your mouth.

"look, you’ve pulled some wild shit before, but this… this is different. yeonjun isn’t the type to play games, and you know that. jealousy’s not gonna make him come crawling back, it’s just gonna piss him off."

her shoulders slump, a little defeat sinking in. “i just… i don’t know what else to do. he’s been so distant lately, like i’m not even there. it’s like… he’s already checked out, and i’m just waiting for the final nail in the coffin.”

you roll your eyes but soften your tone. "hanna, if he’s acting distant, trying to push his buttons isn’t gonna bring him closer. you gotta talk to him, be honest, not… whatever this is."

she finally looks up at you, eyes a little glassy. "what if he doesn’t care anymore? what if i’m the only one still trying?"

that hit deeper than you expected. you lean back, exhaling slowly, thinking of all the times you’ve seen her chasing after something that was already slipping through her fingers. “then maybe… maybe it’s time to let it go, hann. if he’s checked out, then why keep pushing?”

silence lingers between you two for a second, the sound of the clock ticking in the background louder than it should be. hanna brushes her hair behind her ear, voice small. "i just don’t want to lose him."

you sigh, reaching out to rest your hand on hers. "i know. but sometimes, losing someone is better than losing yourself trying to hold onto something that's already gone."

hanna’s lips quiver like she’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. she just nods, the weight of your words sinking in. for once, she looks like she might actually listen.

"besides," you smirk, trying to lighten the mood, "you can always make him jealous when you’re happy and moved on. that’ll hurt way more than this petty shit."

she lets out a small laugh, wiping her eyes. "yeah, maybe."

"there you go, thinking with your brain again. it looks good on you." you give her a playful nudge, grabbing another grape and tossing it into her lap.

“oh, shut up,” she laughs, finally sounding like herself again.

but even as she smiles, you know the weight of her situation isn’t going away anytime soon. you can only hope she’s strong enough to face it head-on this time.

just as the conversation settles into a more comfortable silence, the front door creaks open, and you glance over to see jay shuffling in. he’s back from classes, hoodie pulled over his head, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder.

his eyes dart to you immediately, widening slightly before he looks down at his shoes like they’re the most interesting thing in the world.

"oh, hey… didn’t know you were here," he mutters, voice barely above a mumble. his cheeks flush pink, and he scratches the back of his neck in that awkward way he always does around you.

he might’ve been quiet and a bit of a loser, but damn if he wasn’t hot, like someone ripped out of a movie. you’ve known him for years—ever since he was that scrawny kid who always hung around his sister, but now, he’s filled out, tall, lean… though he still can’t seem to act normal around you.

"hey, jay," you greet casually, tossing him a quick smile. you can practically see the gears in his head stuttering, like he’s not sure what to say next.

he clears his throat, adjusting the strap of his backpack. "uh, did you guys… were you talking about something important? i don’t want to interrupt or anything."

hanna rolls her eyes at him, giving him a look that says, 'you always interrupt.' she turns back to you and lowers her voice dramatically, like she’s giving away some huge secret. "don’t mind him. he’s just here to stare at you for a bit."

"what?!" jay’s face turns a deeper shade of red, his eyes widening in panic. "hanna, shut up!" he shoots her a death glare, but she just smirks, completely unbothered.

you laugh, trying to ease his obvious discomfort. "nah, we were just talking about how your sister has terrible relationship advice."

jay shuffles awkwardly, clearly not sure how to respond, and hanna snorts. "yeah, don’t get her started on that," she adds with a teasing tone, "she’ll lecture you for hours."

"i do not lecture," you defend yourself, leaning back on your chair. "i just give good advice to people who clearly need it."

jay chuckles softly, still not quite meeting your eyes. "well, i’m sure your advice is better than hanna’s." he sneaks a quick glance at you, and you catch his gaze for a second, noticing how his eyes linger a little too long before darting away again.

it’s kinda cute, actually, the way he gets all flustered around you. he might not be outgoing like his sister, but there was something about the way he awkwardly stumbled over his words that made it obvious he was into you, even if he didn’t have the guts to say it.

"so, uh, i should probably… go study or something," jay mumbles, backing up slowly toward the hallway. he glances at you one more time, the corner of his lip twitching like he wants to say something but can’t find the words.

"good luck with that," you say with a playful grin, watching him fumble to leave.

"yeah, thanks," he mutters, practically tripping over his own feet before disappearing down the hall, leaving you and hanna alone again.

once he’s out of earshot, hanna bursts into laughter. "god, he’s so obvious. i swear he’s had the biggest crush on you since, like, forever."

you smirk, picking up another grape. "yeah, i noticed."

"hanna," you start, popping another grape in your mouth, eyes glinting with amusement, "would it be so weird if i actually hooked up with him?"

her jaw drops, and she gapes at you like you just suggested the most forbidden thing in the world.

"are you serious? jay? my little brother jay?" she whispers, half laughing, half in shock, but there's a glimmer in her eye like she's trying to picture it.

"what? he's hot. awkward as hell, but still… hot." you shrug, completely unfazed by her reaction. you could see it now—the way jay would probably blush like crazy, fumbling around nervously, but you didn’t mind.

something about it was kind of endearing.

hanna raises an eyebrow, leaning forward with a smirk. "okay, but can you imagine how flustered he’d be? he can barely look you in the eye without turning into a tomato."

"exactly. it’d be cute," you tease, a wicked grin spreading across your face. "i mean, he’s been crushing on me forever, right? might as well make his day."

"you're insane," she laughs, shaking her head, but you can tell she’s not actually against the idea. "i can’t believe we're even having this conversation. he’d probably pass out if you even kissed him."

you laugh, thinking about how jay would probably freeze up, all wide-eyed and nervous. "maybe, but i bet he’d be fun to mess with. who knows? he might surprise us."

"ugh, you’re terrible." hanna rolls her eyes but can’t help grinning. "but honestly? if anyone’s gonna break him out of his awkward phase, it might as well be you."

"exactly," you say, giving her a knowing look. "besides, if you’re out here making bad decisions with yeonjun, why can’t i make one with jay?"

hanna groans, burying her face in her hands. "oh my god, this is so messed up."

you chuckle, tossing another grape at her. "don’t act like you haven’t thought about it. he’s been staring at me like a lost puppy for years."

she peeks up from her hands, a mischievous look in her eyes now. "alright, fine. but if you actually do it, you better tell me everything. i’m not missing out on that gossip."

"hanna, you don’t find that weird?" you raise an eyebrow, genuinely curious. "you’re telling me you wanna know how he'll potentially fuck me? your brother?"

she snorts, completely unfazed, shrugging like it’s no big deal. "i mean, yeah, why not? i already know he’s got a crush on you, and if you’re actually gonna do it, i might as well get the details." her eyes glint with that mischievous spark again, like she’s enjoying this way too much.

you lean back in your chair, still staring at her in disbelief. "that’s some messed up shit, hanna."

she laughs, shaking her head. "okay, maybe it is, but c’mon. he’s a grown-ass man, you’re a grown-ass woman. if you hook up, it’s not like i’m gonna pretend it never happened. besides, think of it like… research. you can tell me if he’s as awkward in bed as he is in life."

"oh my god," you groan, rubbing your temples like you can’t believe you’re even having this conversation.

hanna just grins, leaning on the counter. "look, if anyone’s gonna handle jay, it’s gotta be someone i trust, right?"

"yeah, ‘cause nothing says trust like spilling the details of how your brother fucks," you mutter, but the smirk creeping onto your face betrays you. "fine. if, and i mean if it happens, maybe i’ll let you in on the tea."

hanna claps her hands together, clearly way too excited for this. "oh, i’m holding you to that. don’t chicken out now."

you roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself. "you’re unbelievable."

"so are you, thinking about banging my brother," she shoots back with a wink.

"touché." you chuckle while running your hands through your hair, the thought of actually doing something with jay making your stomach flip.

there’s a part of you that’s curious, but it’s also so damn messy. “what if he takes it too seriously? or what if it’s just fucking awkward?”

hanna leans back, crossing her arms, watching you spiral. "look, it’s not like you’re making a marriage proposal. it’s just a hookup, if it even happens. jay’s awkward, sure, but i doubt he’d make it weird."

you sigh, feeling the weight of all the shit you’ve been dealing with pile onto this already bizarre situation. "i just… i don’t know, hanna. it’s been a rough few months. i feel like everything’s been dry as hell lately."

hanna raises an eyebrow. "you mean, like… with sunghoon?"

you groan, covering your face with your hands. "don’t get me started. that whole situation was a shitshow."

"okay, spill. what went down?"

you take a deep breath, staring at the ceiling for a moment before finally letting it out. "it was just… boring. like, no spark, no nothing. we were together for months, and I swear, it was like he was just going through the motions. half the time I couldn’t even tell if he was interested."

"huh," hanna nods, thoughtful for a second. "so you broke up with him?"

"yeah, finally. i couldn’t take it anymore. it felt like i was dating a brick wall. no passion, no fire, and don’t even get me started on the sex. dry as fuck." you scoff, leaning back against your chair.

"i tried, hanna. i really did. but how can you stay with someone who makes you feel like you’re invisible half the time?"

"honey, you deserve way better than that," she says, her voice softer now. "it’s not your fault that sunghoon couldn’t keep up. maybe you just need… you know, someone who actually wants you."

"someone like jay?" you joke, half-heartedly, but there’s a flicker of something in your chest when you say it.

hanna smirks, not missing a beat. "hey, i'm not the one who said it, but now that you mention it… he might just be what you need. awkward as hell, sure, but he’s been into you forever, and at least you’d know he’s trying."

"ugh, i’m just tired of all this shit. the dating, the breakups, the dead-end relationships. it’s exhausting."

she nods, giving you a sympathetic look. "i get it. but maybe it’s time to stop worrying about all that serious shit and just have fun. if it’s jay or someone else, who cares? do what makes you happy for once."

you stare at her, taking in her words, feeling the weight of it all slowly lifting off your shoulders. maybe she’s right. maybe it’s time to stop overthinking everything and just do something for yourself.

it’s been months since that conversation with hanna, and somehow, you never followed through with it. maybe it was just something you thought about when you were in a dry spell, coming off a shitty relationship with sunghoon. at the time, jay seemed like the sweetest option, the safest—someone who wouldn’t complicate things. and hanna? she was fine with it, encouraging, actually.

but still, nothing happened. you chalked it up to a moment of weakness. yeah, jay was hot, awkward as hell, but hot.

it was like a loser got trapped in a really good-looking guy's body, the kind of guy who was too shy to realize how much he had going for him. but maybe that’s why you never pushed it—it wasn’t serious. just a fleeting thought after all the mess you went through with sunghoon.

yet, recently, something’s been gnawing at you. hanna’s been casually mentioning that jay’s been seeing someone, dropping it in conversations with that teasing smirk she always has. and, well… it piqued your interest. way more than it should have.

you try to tell yourself it’s nothing.

'good for him,' you say, like you mean it, but deep down, there’s this weird feeling, like something’s off. it’s not jealousy, not really. it’s more like curiosity… or maybe even a bit of possessiveness. after all, you’d been his little crush for years. it was kind of flattering in its own way, knowing he was always there.

"so, jay’s seeing someone, huh?" you finally ask hanna one afternoon, trying to sound casual as you lean back against the couch.

hanna glances at you with that all-knowing look, already sensing something beneath your tone. "yup. can you believe it? he’s finally getting out there. i was shocked at first, but i guess he’s growing up."

"yeah, he’s definitely grown," you mutter, thinking about how much he’s changed in the last few years.

hanna smirks, clearly not missing your choice of words. "what’s that tone? you jealous or something?"

"jealous?" you scoff, but it feels a little forced. "no, just… surprised. i mean, it’s jay. he’s never really dated, right?"

"he hasn’t. but people grow up, y’know? he’s not the awkward little kid anymore, even though he still kinda acts like it," she says, grabbing her phone and scrolling absentmindedly. "he’s been going out with this girl for a few weeks now. cute, right?"

you shrug, trying to play it off, but you can’t help the little sting of annoyance. weeks? that long, and you had no clue?

"yeah, sure. cute," you mutter, glancing away. but your mind’s already spinning, wondering what kind of girl has caught his attention.

hanna raises an eyebrow, catching the subtle shift in your tone. "why? you miss him or something?" she teases, smirking over her phone.

"no," you snap a little too quickly, then clear your throat, trying to act unbothered. "just curious, that's all. haven’t seen him around here in a while."

she laughs, shaking her head. "wow, you really do miss him. he used to be around all the time, and now you're noticing when he's gone." she sets her phone down, looking way too amused by this. "admit it—you’re lowkey jealous."

"i’m not jealous," you huff, crossing your arms defensively. "i just didn’t think he’d be the type to dive into a relationship, that’s all."

"oh, so now you’re judging his love life?" hanna grins, leaning in closer, clearly enjoying this. "look, it’s not like they’re serious or anything, but yeah, he’s been busy. getting out there. i thought you’d be happy for him."

"i am," you say, but it sounds half-hearted, even to your own ears. "it’s just weird, that’s all."

hanna watches you for a second, her smirk softening. "oh my god," she says, suddenly realizing. "you had your chance, didn’t you? back when we talked about it months ago, but you didn’t follow through, and now you’re regretting it."

"what? no!" you protest, but the way she’s looking at you makes you feel like you’ve been caught.

"yeah, you are," she presses, laughing softly. "you thought about it back then, and now you’re wondering if you should’ve just gone for it."

you open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.

maybe she’s right, just a little. maybe part of you did think jay would always be there, orbiting around, waiting. now that someone else has his attention, it feels different. unsettling.

just then, jay comes stumbling in, looking flustered as hell. his hair’s a mess, cheeks flushed, and he’s wearing clothes that clearly scream date night—button-up shirt slightly wrinkled, dark jeans that fit a little too well, like he actually put thought into the whole thing. the sight of him in that state makes your heart do a weird little flip, but you force yourself to stay cool, act like it’s no big deal.

jay looks at both of you, eyes wide, clearly shocked to find you there, but he lets out a breathless, "hey," like he’s trying to play it off. you catch the faint tremble in his voice, though, and it makes you smirk internally. he’s so damn awkward, it’s almost adorable.

"hmm, hey," hanna says, immediately zeroing in on his disheveled appearance. she crosses her arms, her lips curling into a grin. "where you been, jay? out on a date?"

jay freezes for a split second, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "w-what? no, i wasn’t… i mean, i just—i was hanging out with some friends."

you can’t help but snicker at how awful he is at lying, and jay shoots you a quick glance before looking down, his cheeks growing redder. "friends, huh?" you say casually, trying to hide the amusement in your voice. "didn’t know your friends wore that much perfume."

his face flushes deeper, and hanna’s on him in a second, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "wait a second…" she leans in, sniffing the air dramatically. "oh my god, you’re actually wearing perfume. like, something a girl would wear." her grin gets even wider. "jay, did you steal her perfume or what?"

"no!" he stammers, taking a step back, clearly overwhelmed by the interrogation. "i didn’t—i mean, i wasn’t stealing anything. i just—i don’t know, maybe i hugged her or something, okay? it’s not a big deal."

the way he says her makes your stomach tighten, but you shove it down, refusing to let it show. instead, you raise an eyebrow, giving him a nonchalant look. "so there is a girl, huh?"

jay looks like he’s about to combust on the spot, his words stumbling over each other as he tries to defend himself. "i… it’s not like… yeah, i’ve been seeing someone, but it’s not serious, okay? we’re just hanging out. nothing crazy."

"hanging out," hanna echoes, clearly enjoying every second of this. "is that what we’re calling dates now? ‘cause, bro, you look like you just came back from date night."

jay groans, running a hand through his messy hair, clearly desperate to escape the conversation. "look, can we just not do this right now? i’m gonna go to my room." and with that, he rushes past, practically bolting toward the hallway.

but not before you catch it. the scent. that sweet, floral perfume lingering on him. it’s subtle but unmistakable—definitely something a girl would wear, and something that would drive any guy crazy. you can’t help but feel a strange knot form in your chest as you watch him disappear into his room.

"huh," hanna says, leaning back on the couch with a satisfied grin. "he’s really getting out there. good for him."

"yeah," you mutter, trying to act unaffected, but the perfume, the thought of him with someone else—it’s still swirling in your head. "good for him."

you sit there, staring at the spot where jay had been just seconds ago, the scent of that damn perfume still hanging in the air like some ghost that won’t leave. hanna’s sitting back, satisfied with her little interrogation, but you can’t help the weird pit forming in your stomach.

you try to shake it off, acting like none of this bothers you, but it does. way more than it should.

you stayed over at hanna’s that night, and the tension from earlier stuck with you like a bad itch. jay never left his room, not once, which only made your curiosity gnaw at you even more.

what the hell was going on with him? who was this girl? you tried to push it out of your mind, but it clung to you, especially with the scent of that perfume still lingering in your thoughts.

you and hanna were playing mario kart, both of you on the couch. or rather, you were playing, while she kept glancing at her phone, clearly distracted by a stream of notifications from yeonjun. every time her phone buzzed, she'd snicker or blush, completely zoning out from the game.

"yo, if you’re just gonna text yeonjun the whole time, i might as well play alone," you teased, bumping her with your elbow as she nearly drove off the track.

"huh? what? no, i’m playing," she muttered, not even looking at the screen as her character crashed into a wall. "yeonjun just sent me something funny, that’s all."

you roll your eyes, about to give up on getting her attention back when the doorbell rang.

"huh, who’s that?" hanna said, barely glancing away from her phone.

you pause the game, both of you looking toward the door. hanna finally gets up, heading over to open it. when she swings the door wide, you see him standing there—jay’s friend, heeseung. he’s clearly flustered, his hand shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched slightly as if he’s uncomfortable being there.

"heeseung?" hanna asks, surprised. "what are you doing here?"

heeseung shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "uh, hey. is jay here? we were supposed to hang out, but he hasn’t been answering his phone. i figured i’d just come by and check."

you almost smirk. god, another one of jay’s friends who was a total loser in the cutest way possible.

like jay, heeseung had everything going for him—good looks, tall, decent style, but somehow still gave off the energy of a guy who’d stumble over his own words if you looked at him too long.

"he’s been locked in his room since he got back," hanna says, rolling her eyes. "probably doing god knows what. you can go knock if you want."

heeseung glances at you for a split second, then back at hanna. "uh, yeah, cool, thanks."

as he makes his way toward jay’s room, you can’t help but chuckle under your breath. you knew heeseung and jay well enough—they were practically glued to each other most days, playing games together, screaming over discord at all hours of the night. and here he was, showing up like some worried girlfriend when jay wasn’t answering his phone.

"he’s definitely still in there," hanna mutters, sitting back down next to you. "but if anyone can drag his ass out, it’s heeseung."

you nod, but your mind is elsewhere. jay, locked in his room all night, avoiding everyone. was he embarrassed? hiding from whatever happened earlier? or was it something else?

your curiosity eats at you, but you shove it down, focusing back on the game as heeseung knocks softly on jay’s door.

the muffled sound of voices drifts down the hall, heeseung’s awkward murmur and jay’s low, strained reply. you can’t make out what they’re saying, but the tension lingers in the air, heavy and thick.

"heeseung’s probably just here to game with him, like always," hanna says, half-watching the screen. "but i gotta say, that boy’s a mess too. sometimes i don’t get how they even function."

you snort. "yeah, but they’re good guys. even if they’re both clueless."

hanna grins. "true. but damn, if only they weren’t such awkward losers. they’d probably have girls falling all over them if they weren’t so… i don’t know, them."

you laugh, shaking your head, but part of you can’t shake the nagging thought about jay, the girl, the perfume… and why he’d been acting so strange ever since. damn.

looks like jay eventually let heeseung in, because after a few minutes, you hear the low murmur of voices coming from his room. nothing loud or out of the ordinary, but just enough to confirm that heeseung’s been granted access.

you continue playing mario kart with hanna, your mind half in the game and half still on jay, wondering what the hell is going on with him.

hanna keeps glancing at her phone, and you don’t miss the small smirks she gives whenever a notification pops up. it doesn’t take long before she’s fully lost in her own little world, yeonjun obviously at the center of it. you roll your eyes.

“you’re not even playing anymore,” you say, bumping her with your elbow as she drives straight off the edge for the third time in a row. “might as well just text him if you’re that distracted.”

“ugh, fine,” she mutters, tossing her controller down with a dramatic sigh. “he’s been dying to talk, and I can’t concentrate anyway.”

you raise an eyebrow. “what’s going on with you two, anyway? things getting serious or what?”

hanna bites her lip, the kind of half-smile that tells you everything and nothing all at once. “we’ll see. he’s been acting all sweet lately, but I just want to clear some things up, you know? make sure we’re on the same page.”

“mm-hmm,” you hum, not buying her casual tone for a second. “sure, sure. go have your little heart-to-heart.”

she rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, getting up and grabbing her phone. “i’m gonna go to my room and talk to him. don’t get into too much trouble while i’m gone,” she teases, disappearing down the hall with her phone already pressed to her ear.

you’re left sitting there, the room suddenly quiet except for the distant sound of jay and heeseung talking behind closed doors. you play a few more rounds of mario kart, but it feels pointless now that hanna’s gone and your mind is drifting back to jay again.

curiosity gets the better of you. before you even realize what you’re doing, you find yourself walking down the hall, toward jay’s room. your footsteps are light, almost cautious, like you’re not even sure you want to be caught doing this. but something about the whole situation—jay’s sudden flustered behavior, the perfume, the secrecy—it’s gnawing at you, and you just need to know.

you stop just outside his door, pressing your back to the wall, trying to hear what they’re talking about. their voices are low, but you catch snippets here and there. heeseung’s calm, steady tone contrasts with jay’s more hesitant, awkward replies.

“…so, how’d it go?” you hear heeseung ask, his voice muffled through the door.

there’s a long pause, and you can practically feel jay squirming from the other side. “…it was fine. great even but, god. it’s just… different.”

“different how?” heeseung presses, and now you’re straining to hear every word, your heart racing a little.

jay lets out a sigh. “i don’t know. i mean, she’s cool, but… i keep thinking about—”

you hold your breath, leaning in a little closer, desperate to hear what he’s going to say next. thinking about who? what the hell is he talking about?

but before you can catch the rest of his sentence, something creaks under your foot, the sound louder than you expected in the quiet hallway. you freeze, heart pounding in your chest, praying they didn’t hear you.

there’s a brief silence from inside the room, then jay’s voice, a little more alert now. “…did you hear that?”

shit.

you back away slowly, trying to move as quietly as possible, but your pulse is racing, and you can already feel the heat creeping up your neck.

your pulse quickens, adrenaline spiking as you slowly back away from jay’s door, praying he doesn’t open it and catch you red-handed. your foot moves carefully, barely making a sound as you step back down the hall, but you can hear the faint creak of the floorboards under your weight.

“nah, probably nothing,” you hear heeseung say, his voice trying to calm jay down. “this place is always making weird sounds.”

“yeah… maybe,” jay replies, but you can tell he’s still on edge. you hold your breath, waiting, listening for any sign that he’s going to open the door and find you there, eavesdropping like a total creep.

but the door doesn’t open. instead, their conversation picks back up, though jay’s voice is a little quieter now, more cautious, like he knows someone might be listening.

you exhale slowly, stepping back further into the hallway, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease just slightly. that was too close, you think, your heart still racing as you slip back toward the living room.

but despite the close call, your curiosity hasn’t been satisfied. if anything, it’s only grown stronger. what the hell is jay thinking about? why did he seem so off today? and who was this girl, this mysterious person he’s apparently been seeing?

something about it all didn’t sit right with you, and it was starting to get under your skin.

as you make your way back to the couch, you try to shake it off, but your mind is still buzzing.

you hear hanna’s door creak open down the hall. she’s probably still on the phone with yeonjun, but knowing her, she’s already caught onto your little adventure. you hear her muffled voice through the walls, sounding serious, like she’s deep in conversation.

you try to focus on the game, but the more you think about it, the more frustrated you get. why do i even care so much? you ask yourself. jay was just a guy.

a sweet, awkward guy who’s been crushing on you for ages, sure, but still… why did the idea of him with someone else, even just hanging out, feel like it was getting to you so much?

you sigh, your grip tightening on the controller as you speed down the mario kart track, barely paying attention to what you’re doing. you know you’re overthinking it, but that doesn’t make the sick feeling in your gut go away. you hear a faint laugh from jay’s room, and your stomach twists.

hanna comes back into the living room, phone still in hand, but the conversation with yeonjun clearly over for now. she glances at you, raising an eyebrow as she flops down next to you on the couch, her eyes immediately narrowing like she’s picked up on something.

“you good?” she asks, half-amused, half-suspicious. she probably noticed the way you’ve been sitting there, controller in hand but not really playing, clearly lost in thought.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you lie, a little too quickly.

she smirks, shifting her position to face you better. “sure, sure. you’re ‘fine,’ but you look like you’re thinking way too hard about something. spill it. what’s going on?”

you pause, debating how much to say, but you know hanna isn’t the type to let things slide. she’ll keep poking until you give her something. you sigh, tossing the controller down in frustration.

“okay, fine. i’m just… curious.”

“about?”

“jay.”

hanna’s smirk widens. “oh? now we’re back to jay, huh? what happened while i was on the phone? did something weird go down between you two?”

“no,” you mutter, though that knot in your stomach tightens again. “it’s just… i don’t know. he’s been acting strange. like, he’s all flustered and avoiding us, and then there’s the whole thing about him seeing someone. i guess it’s just throwing me off.”

“hmm.” hanna leans back, crossing her arms as she studies you, clearly amused by your little dilemma. “so you’re bothered that jay’s hanging out with another girl. interesting.”

“i’m not bothered,” you say, but even to you, it sounds weak. “it’s just… weird, okay? he’s always been around, always crushing, and now suddenly he’s off with some other girl, wearing perfume and shit.”

hanna chuckles, shaking her head. “god, you really are jealous, just admit it. you had months to make a move, and now that someone else might be catching his attention, it’s messing with you.”

you shoot her a glare. “jealousy isn't the right term. i told you i'm just curious.”

“right,” she says, clearly not believing you for a second. “so curious that you probably tried to eavesdrop on him and heeseung just now, huh?”

your eyes widen slightly, but you try to keep your cool. “what? no. i didn’t—”

hanna laughs, cutting you off. “oh, please. i know you, and i definitely heard you sneaking around the hallway while i was on the phone. don’t even try to lie.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. “fine. maybe i did try to eavesdrop a little. but it didn’t help. they were talking in these vague half-sentences, and now i’m just more confused.”

“so why don’t you just ask him?” hanna suggests, a grin tugging at her lips. “i mean, if you really want to know, just corner jay and get him to spill. he’s terrible at hiding stuff anyway.”

you consider her suggestion, feeling a mix of curiosity and frustration bubbling inside you. “and what exactly do i say? ‘hey, jay, so i noticed you’ve been acting weird and smelling like another girl. care to explain?’”

hanna bursts out laughing, shaking her head. “honestly? yeah. he’d probably be so flustered, he’d tell you everything just to avoid the embarrassment.”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile creeping onto your face. “you’re terrible.”

“nah, i’m just honest.” hanna nudges you with her elbow. “c’mon, it’s not like he’s some big mystery. he’s jay. awkward, sweet, and totally wrapped up in you. if you want answers, just ask.”

“maybe,” you mumble, still not convinced but knowing she’s probably right.

"should i ask heeseung?" you blurt out, half-joking but also half-serious. maybe heeseung would give you the details without all the awkward stammering that jay would.

hanna raises an eyebrow, looking at you like you just suggested something crazy. "heeseung? are you kidding me? he’d probably fumble even worse than jay."

you laugh, but there's a part of you that wonders. heeseung—god, another awkward mess but that’s also why he might just crack under a little pressure.

"i mean, it’s not the worst idea," you say, shrugging. "he might slip up and say something."

"honey, heeseung can barely hold a conversation without tripping over his words, especially when he’s nervous. and you asking him about jay? yeah, good luck with that." hanna grins, clearly entertained by the idea. "besides, he’d probably just defer to jay, tell you to ask him."

"ugh, you’re probably right," you groan, sinking back into the couch. "it’s just… ugh, something feels off, and i can’t let it go."

hanna tilts her head, studying you with that look she gets when she’s about to get all deep and sisterly. "okay, real talk? why does it bug you so much? i mean, seriously. if jay’s seeing someone, why does it bother you this much?"

you pause, not really sure how to answer that without sounding like a complete mess. because honestly, you hadn’t thought too hard about it until now. why does it bother me?

"i don’t know," you finally admit, sighing.

"hmm," hanna hums knowingly. "so maybe it’s not just curiosity. maybe you liked the attention. or maybe… you like him more than you realize."

"no," you protest immediately, though the knot in your stomach tightens a little. "it’s not like that."

"okay, okay." hanna holds her hands up in surrender, smirking. "but if you want to know what’s really going on, you either ask jay or wait for him to spill. heeseung’s not gonna give you any answers."

you sit there, chewing on the inside of your cheek, the idea of confronting jay still gnawing at you. “yeah, but asking jay feels… complicated.”

“well, then,” hanna says, nudging you with her elbow, “you’ve got a decision to make. either get the guts to talk to jay, or just let it go and stop driving yourself nuts about it.”

you lean back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, wondering if you’ll actually have the nerve to confront jay. the curiosity is killing you, but there’s that part of you that doesn’t want to know… because what if it is serious with this girl?

realizing that maybe you shouldn’t dwell on this too much, you sigh, leaning back on the couch. maybe it’s just your ego getting in the way—getting worked up over the fact that jay’s attention was elsewhere, no longer revolving around you like it had for years.

it stung a little, yeah, but was it really about him? or was it just that weird feeling when someone you always thought would be there suddenly wasn’t?

you rub your temples, trying to shake off the thought. if it’s serious, do i even want to know?

you’ve already been through enough drama with sunghoon. getting tangled up in whatever jay had going on wasn’t something you needed right now. especially when your feelings about it weren’t even clear.

"maybe i’m just making a big deal out of nothing," you mutter, more to yourself than to hanna.

"huh?" she looks over at you, raising an eyebrow.

"maybe it’s just my ego, you know? i’m probably just annoyed that jay’s not giving me all his attention anymore. and if it’s serious, i really don’t want to mess with it."

hanna watches you for a second, her smirk fading into something a little softer. "yeah, maybe. but it’s not wrong to feel weird about it. he’s been your little puppy for so long, it’s gotta feel strange to see him with someone else. but like you said, if it’s serious, maybe it’s better to just leave it alone."

you nod, feeling a bit of relief in her words. leave it alone. yeah, that sounded like the smart move. you didn’t want to ruin anything for jay, not when he’d finally found someone that seemed to have his attention.

"yeah," you say, more certain now. "i’ll just let it go. if he’s happy, that’s all that matters."

"huh, look at you being mature," hanna teases, though there’s a warmth in her voice. "proud of you."

you snort, rolling your eyes. "don’t get used to it. but yeah… i think it’s for the best."

you both settle back into a comfortable silence, the weight of your curiosity easing a bit. jay was figuring out his own life, and as strange as it felt, you couldn’t hold onto the past forever. people moved on, and maybe it was time you let him do the same without all the second-guessing.

weeks pass, and things between you, jay, and hanna settle into a weird but manageable routine. jay’s still around, but not as much. and you’ve mostly convinced yourself to stop overthinking it, especially when hanna lets slip that things with jay’s new girl seem to be going well.

every time she mentions it, you nod along, offering a polite "that’s great," even though you feel that familiar, subtle tug of something you can’t quite name. but you push it down and try not to dwell on it.

then one weekend, hanna decides to throw a party at her house. nothing too crazy, but she’s invited a bunch of friends over, and the idea is to just relax, drink, and let loose for a bit.

you’re half-excited, half-dreading it, especially since you know jay will probably be there too, along with a bunch of his friends, including heeseung.

"hanna, do we really need this party?" you ask a little nervously, standing in her kitchen the day of, helping her set up snacks and drinks. "i mean, are we celebrating something? or are you just in the mood to stir up chaos?"

she grins at you, mischievous as ever. "oh, you know me. stirring up chaos is my specialty. plus, we haven’t had a decent get-together in forever. and i need an excuse to dress cute and get drunk, so here we are."

you laugh, shaking your head. "fair enough."

“plus, yeonjun’s coming,” she adds with a wink, clearly excited about that little detail. “and i want him to meet some of my friends, show him off a bit, you know?”

“ah, so this party is really for yeonjun,” you tease, nudging her with your elbow.

“well, yeah,” she laughs, “but you’ll benefit too. lots of people are coming. you might meet someone.”

you roll your eyes but smile, part of you hopes he won’t bring his new girl to the party, though you hate yourself a little for even thinking that.

as the night progresses, people start trickling in. the house fills with the buzz of conversation, laughter, and music. you find yourself sipping on a drink, wandering between groups of friends, making small talk but keeping an eye out for familiar faces.

it’s a decent crowd—mostly people you know through hanna, but enough new faces to keep things interesting.

then, just as you’re starting to relax, jay walks in. and of course, heeseung is with him. jay’s wearing his usual casual style, but something about him seems different tonight—more confident, maybe? or maybe it’s just the way he’s been acting lately, more sure of himself. you can’t help but notice it, even though you’ve been telling yourself to stop.

your eyes flicker to his side, half-expecting to see the girl he’s been seeing, but to your surprise, he’s alone. no girlfriend in tow, just him and heeseung, who looks equally as awkward but still manages to make it work somehow.

hanna spots them and waves them over, and before you know it, you’re standing in a small group with jay, heeseung, and a few others, trying to act casual.

“hey,” jay says, his voice a little quieter than usual as he gives you a small, shy smile. "how’s it going?"

"good," you reply, forcing a smile back.

he nods, looking like he’s about to say something else when hanna jumps in, handing him a drink and teasing him about finally showing up. you take a sip of your own drink, trying not to stare, but you can’t help feeling that tug again, even though you promised yourself you were over this.

heeseung, meanwhile, is standing awkwardly beside jay, clearly a little uncomfortable in the social setting but still trying to make conversation. “so, uh, this party’s pretty cool,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

"yeah, it’s nice," you say, giving him a reassuring smile. "hanna always knows how to throw a good party."

"for sure," heeseung agrees, glancing around like he’s not sure what to do next.

as the conversation flows, you notice jay stealing glances at you every now and then, the party vibe is definitely kicking up a notch. the music’s louder, people are getting rowdier, and the drinks are flowing fast.

you’re on your second, maybe third drink, the buzz slowly settling into your veins, helping to loosen up that weird tension you’ve been feeling since jay walked in.

you're standing with jay, heeseung, and a couple of others, and it’s not long before everyone’s talking shit and laughing a little too loudly.

heeseung, bless his awkward heart, is still standing off to the side, clutching a drink like it’s a lifeline. the guy’s not exactly built for parties, but he’s trying. you watch as he takes a big swig of his beer, his face immediately flushing red, creeping up his neck and settling in his cheeks.

you can’t help but smirk, leaning in slightly as you raise an eyebrow at him. “damn, heeseung. you okay? you’re turning red as fuck.”

heeseung sputters, looking down at his drink like it’s betrayed him. “what? no, i’m fine. just, uh, warm in here, y’know?”

“sure, sure. it’s the alcohol, isn’t it?” you tease, giving him a playful grin. “you’re a lightweight, huh?”

he flushes even more, if that’s even possible, and you can’t help but find it kind of cute. maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but seeing him all flustered like this has you feeling a little bold. “you know, it’s a good look on you. red suits you,” you say, giving him a slightly flirty smile.

heeseung’s eyes widen a bit, and he looks like he’s about to choke on his drink. “w-what? no, i—thanks, i guess?” he stammers, clearly not expecting that. he shifts awkwardly, trying to hide his face behind his cup.

jay, who’s been listening in, raises an eyebrow at your comment but doesn’t say anything, his eyes flicking between you and heeseung like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. you can see the confusion on his face, like he’s not sure whether to be amused or annoyed.

you can’t help but push a little further, just to see how flustered you can make heeseung. “you’re cute when you’re drunk, heeseung. maybe you should drink more often.”

heeseung’s practically glowing red now, his grip tightening on his drink as he lets out a nervous laugh. “uh, maybe I’ll stick to water,” he mumbles, clearly flustered out of his mind.

“nah, live a little,” you tease, leaning back casually, taking a sip of your own drink. you’re definitely feeling a little bolder than usual, the alcohol making you loosen up while jay’s still watching the whole interaction.

hanna comes over, laughing loudly with yeonjun hanging off her, clearly already tipsy. “yo, what’s going on here?” she asks, grinning as she looks between you, jay, and heeseung.

“nothing,” you shrug, “just giving heeseung some shit for turning into a tomato after one drink.”

heeseung groans, covering his face with his hand. “can we not?”

hanna snickers, nudging you. “i see you, though, giving him those flirty little comments. careful, or you’re gonna give him a heart attack.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “nah, he’s fine. aren’t you, heeseung?”

heeseung gives a weak thumbs up, still too flustered to respond properly, and you can’t help but find the whole thing hilarious. jay, though, is still watching you carefully, like he’s trying to figure out what game you’re playing, his jaw clenched just slightly. but you ignore it, deciding to have a little fun with the night.

“so, jay,” you say, turning to him with a smirk. “how’s the new girl? thought you’d bring her to the party.”

jay’s expression tightens for a split second before he relaxes, shrugging casually. “she’s busy. couldn’t make it.”

“oh,” you hum, “too bad. would’ve been nice to meet her.” the words come out a little more pointed than you intended, but the alcohol’s loosening your tongue.

jay just nods, sipping his drink, not saying much, but the tension between you two is palpable now. heeseung’s still standing there, awkward as ever, completely oblivious to the undercurrent of the conversation.

hanna gives you a look, raising an eyebrow. “damn, what’s going on with y’all?” she asks, half-laughing. “we’re supposed to be having fun, not having weird-ass standoffs.”

you shrug, trying to play it off. “just making conversation.”

jay doesn’t say anything, just watches you, his eyes narrowing slightly like he’s trying to figure you out. the tension’s thick now, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s caught on to your curiosity about him and his new girl—or if he’s feeling the same weird shift that you are.

the party is in full swing now, reaching that peak where everyone’s either too drunk or too deep in the vibe to care anymore. the music’s loud, thumping through the house, and the living room has turned into a makeshift dance floor. people are swaying, drinks sloshing, and you find yourself caught up in the energy of it all.

you spot hanna in the middle of the room, completely lost in the music, grinding on yeonjun like her life depends on it. she’s got her arms draped over his shoulders, moving with him in sync, her hips swaying to the beat. yeonjun’s hands are on her waist, pulling her closer as they move together, both clearly tipsy but having the time of their lives.

you can’t help but laugh at the sight of her. god, she’s really going for it tonight. you’re feeling the buzz too, a few drinks deep, and before you know it, you’re out on the floor as well, the beat taking over your body.

the room is hot, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and alcohol. the bass vibrates through your chest, and you let yourself move, swaying to the rhythm, feeling the weight of everything melt away. the drinks have loosened you up, and you don’t care who’s watching. it feels good to just let go.

you close your eyes, losing yourself in the music, your body moving in time with the beat. you can feel the warmth of the people around you, the brush of bodies as you dance, but you don’t think about anything except the way the music pulses through your veins.

a few minutes pass, and when you open your eyes, you catch sight of jay standing near the edge of the room, drink in hand, watching. his gaze is fixed on you, his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes dark with something you can’t quite place. it’s not just curiosity—it’s heavier, more intense.

the moment your eyes lock with his, you feel a jolt of something run through you. the alcohol in your system makes everything feel bolder, sharper, and you don’t look away.

instead, you let your body move a little slower, more deliberately, the music still guiding you, but now there’s a purpose behind it. you’re aware of his eyes on you, and you’re playing into it.

heeseung’s still somewhere in the crowd, flushed red from drinking, probably too shy to join in on the dance floor, but you’re not thinking about him anymore. your focus is on jay, standing there, watching, the tension between you two crackling in the air like a live wire.

hanna’s laughter cuts through the noise as she and yeonjun get even closer, practically wrapped around each other, and you shake your head, smirking at how wild she’s gotten. but then, almost instinctively, your eyes flick back to jay, and he’s still staring, not even trying to hide it.

as your hips swayed to the rhythm, you suddenly feel an arm drape around your shoulder, stopping you mid-movement. confusion flickers in your mind, and your eyes stay on jay for just a beat longer before you turn to see who it is.

then, you hear someone scream in your ear, trying to be heard over the booming music.

"hey!"

you blink, pulling back slightly, and there he is—sunghoon. your ex.

the shock hits you like a cold wave, making your whole body tense up. of all people, it had to be sunghoon. you immediately feel a rush of irritation bubbling up inside you, remembering all the reasons why you left that dry, emotionless relationship behind.

"sunghoon? what the fuck are you doing here?" you yell over the music, your face scrunching up in disbelief.

he smirks down at you, clearly tipsy, his grip on your shoulder firm but not exactly welcome. "just wanted to catch up!" he shouts, his voice laced with that familiar cocky tone, like he’s doing you a favor just by showing up.

you glance around, realizing how close he’s standing to you, the weight of his arm making your skin crawl. really, sunghoon? now?

"catch up?" you shout back, trying to shake him off. "there’s nothing to catch up on!"

he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear, and you feel a spike of anger mix with the awkwardness of the moment. "come on, don’t be like that! i was just thinking about you, y'know?"

your patience snaps. "dude, we're done. way done. move the fuck on already," you snap, stepping out from under his arm. your heart’s racing, and you quickly glance back at jay, who’s still watching, his expression unreadable now.

sunghoon looks taken aback, but that smug grin stays plastered on his face. "alright, alright. no need to be so cold. just thought you might’ve missed me."

"missed you?" you laugh, bitterness creeping into your voice. "nah, not even close."

sunghoon shrugs, clearly not getting the hint or just ignoring it, but you’ve already tuned him out, your eyes flicking back to jay for a brief second. his gaze is still on you, and you can tell by the way his jaw is clenched that he saw everything. there's a flicker of something dark, maybe jealousy, or maybe something else entirely.

you turn back to sunghoon, fed up. "look, you’ve got about ten seconds to fuck off before i make this real awkward for you."

sunghoon finally gets the message, rolling his eyes as he steps back, hands raised in mock surrender. "alright, alright. whatever. you’re missing out."

"yeah, sure," you mutter, watching as he stumbles off into the crowd. good riddance.

the moment he’s gone, you exhale, feeling the tension start to lift.

hanna, still wrapped around yeonjun but now clearly paying attention, turns to look at you as sunghoon walks away. her face is a mix of confusion and amusement, her eyebrows raised. she’s clearly not drunk enough to miss the drama unfolding in front of her.

"what the fuck was that?" she shouts over the music, looking between you and the direction sunghoon disappeared in. "why the hell is he here?"

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "hell if I know. i didn’t even know he’d be at the party. guess he just felt like showing up to ruin my night."

hanna looks equal parts amused and annoyed. "that guy’s got some fucking nerve. acting like you’d just fall back into his arms or something."

you shake your head, still fuming. "he’s delusional. fucking idiot."

hanna watches you for a second longer, then nods toward jay, who’s still standing on the edge of the dance floor, his eyes locked on you. "well, seems like someone else noticed that little encounter. what’s going on with him?"

you glance back at jay, who quickly looks away as soon as your eyes meet. even from across the room. part of you wonders what’s running through his head.

"nothing," you mumble, though you know that’s far from the truth.

hanna snorts, giving you a knowing look. "yeah, well, whatever it is, you should probably talk to him. looks like he’s been staring at you all night. and now with sunghoon back in the picture? don’t let this shit fester, babe."

"shit, what do i even say?!" you mutter, more to yourself than to hanna, but she hears you loud and clear. she leans closer, still swaying a bit from the alcohol and the lingering high of dancing with yeonjun, but her focus is locked on you now.

"easy," she says with a smirk, “you just walk over there, look him dead in the eyes, and say, ‘so, were you watching that whole shitshow, or do I have to fill you in?’”

you groan, rolling your eyes. “yeah, sure, because that’ll go over well.”

hanna raises an eyebrow, nudging you toward him. "you’re overthinking it. just go talk to him. you got this."

"yeah, easier said than done," you mutter, but you force yourself to move. you’re not about to let this weird tension drag out any longer, especially with the way your stomach flips every time jay looks at you like that.

you take a deep breath, pushing your way through the crowd until you’re standing in front of him. jay’s eyes widen the second he sees you up close, his usual quiet confidence completely unraveling as he visibly tenses up. god, he’s already a mess, and you haven’t even said anything yet.

"hey," you start, trying to sound casual, but the alcohol’s making your voice a little too soft, too loose. "you’ve been staring at me all night, you know?"

jay’s face turns bright red, his gaze immediately darting to the floor. "i—uh, i —I mean, maybe I was a little," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck in that awkward way he always does when he’s nervous. "it’s just, well, you look—"

"jay," you cut him off with a smirk, stepping a little closer. "you’re a terrible liar."

his face flushes even more, and he tries to hide it behind a nervous chuckle. "yeah, okay, maybe I was staring. but it’s hard not to when—"

"when what?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, feeling a little bolder than usual thanks to the alcohol. god, this drink was definitely getting to you. everything feels looser, like the tension between you two has been stretched so thin it could snap at any second.

"i mean… look at you," jay mumbles, barely meeting your eyes. "it’s hard not to stare when you look like that."

the compliment catches you off guard, but instead of letting it throw you, you press on, pushing the conversation to where you really want it to go. "and what about that girl you’ve been seeing? can't you make her come over for some fun? party's great, shame she couldn't make it."

jay looks completely flustered now, his eyes going wide as he stumbles over his words. "we’re not, like, serious or anything. just hanging out."

"still 'just hanging out,' huh?" you tease, taking another step closer, and now you can see the way he’s nervously shifting from foot to foot, his cheeks flushed red. god, he’s a cute mess.

"yeah," jay mumbles, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for a brief second before he quickly looks away again.

you laugh softly, cutting him off again. "relax, jay. i’m not grilling you." but the way your heart’s racing tells a different story. why does this feel so intense all of a sudden? maybe it’s the alcohol.

jay’s still staring at the floor, shifting uncomfortably, clearly trying to gather his thoughts, but he’s failing at hiding how flustered he is. "i just… didn’t think you’d care."

"why wouldn’t i care?" you ask, your voice softer now, trying to ease him out of whatever mess of feelings he's stuck in. his eyes flicker up to meet yours, vulnerable for a moment, but then he looks away again.

"you’ve never been so curious about me before," he mutters, his voice barely above the music. "we’ve known each other for years, 'cause of hanna, but… you never really asked me questions about myself."

his words hang heavy between you two, the weight of years of unnoticed glances and quiet moments suddenly crashing down. it's not an accusation—just a quiet truth. you'd always been caught up in your own world, and jay had been right there the whole time. you felt bad.

“jay…” you start, but the words don’t come out as you hoped. it’s harder than you thought, confronting the reality that you’ve been blind to him all this time.

he finally looks up, meeting your gaze, and for a second, you can see the frustration and confusion bubbling under the surface. "yeah?"

you hesitate, not wanting to dive too deep into all the messy feelings swirling between you two. instead, you decide to lighten things up, if only for a moment. "where’s heeseung, anyway? thought you two were inseparable tonight."

jay blinks, looking surprised by the change in topic. "uh… heeseung? he’s probably somewhere getting even more drunk," he mutters, glancing around the room briefly. "he disappears when he drinks. tries to avoid embarrassing himself, i think."

you can’t help but chuckle at that. "yeah, i did see him turn red after like one drink. kinda cute, honestly."

jay’s expression softens slightly, the tension between you both easing, though he still seems unsure. "yeah, that’s him," he says, his voice a little lighter now.

"so… what about you?" you ask, biting your lip, your heart beating a little faster. "i mean, are you avoiding embarrassing yourself, too?"

jay laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances around, clearly feeling a bit off-balance. "um, yeah, i’m trying. but i’m starting to get a little drunk, so…" he trails off, placing his cup on a nearby shelf with an awkward, almost cute, gesture.

you can’t help but smile at how flustered he is, but the air between you is still heavy with the unsaid. it’s like there’s this invisible line you both keep dancing around, but neither of you is willing to cross it.

“you’re not doing a bad job so far,” you tease lightly, stepping closer. your heart’s pounding, the alcohol loosening your tongue more than usual. “though i wouldn’t say you’re avoiding embarrassment. not entirely, anyway.”

just then, as if summoned by the awkward tension hanging in the air, heeseung comes rushing in, his face red, flushed even more than before. his hair’s a mess, and he’s panting slightly, looking like he just barely made it through whatever disaster he’s been avoiding.

“hey, guys!” he blurts out, clearly drunk, his words slurring just a little as he stumbles into the room. his eyes flick between you and jay, not noticing the thick air of tension he just walked into.

“thought i’d find you here—what’s going on?” he says, grinning like he hasn’t just completely derailed whatever moment you and jay were having.

you and jay both freeze, caught off guard by heeseung’s sudden appearance. you can’t help but laugh softly at the timing, shaking your head as the moment you were sharing with jay evaporates into the background.

"heeseung, man," jay mutters, trying to keep his voice steady as he looks at his friend. "where’ve you been? you’re looking… rough."

heeseung waves him off, stumbling slightly as he leans on the wall for support. "don’t worry ‘bout me. just had a few too many, I guess." he grins, then looks at you with that drunken charm only heeseung could pull off. “but damn, am i interrupting something? you two look like you’re in the middle of a moment.”

jay groans under his breath, rubbing his face in frustration, while you can’t help but snicker at the situation. of course heeseung would show up now, right when jay finally had some alone time with you. well kinda—minus the other people partying.

“nah, just talking,” you say, waving him off, though you catch jay giving you a quick glance, his expression still a little tight. “what about you, heeseung? you look like you’re about to pass out.”

heeseung grins sheepishly, his face still bright red from drinking. “maybe. but I’m still standing! barely,” he jokes, clearly unaware of the tension between you and jay. "but hey, good to see you two getting along. for a second, i thought i was gonna have to play wingman."

“wingman? for who?” you tease, feeling a bit more playful now that the moment with jay has been interrupted.

jay shifts uncomfortably beside you, clearly caught off guard by heeseung’s drunken boldness. his eyes flick to you, waiting to see how you’d react, and when you just laugh and shake your head at heeseung’s comment, jay groans under his breath.

fuck, heeseung.

unable to hide his embarrassment, jay moves quickly, throwing an arm around heeseung in a side hug. but it’s not exactly friendly—more like a half-hearted attempt to pull him close and, at the same time, silently threaten him into shutting the hell up.

"yeah, okay, man," jay mutters through gritted teeth, rubbing heeseung’s shoulder in a way that would seem affectionate if it wasn’t for the slight squeeze of warning. "you’ve had enough. let’s not make things worse for you."

heeseung, still too drunk to fully catch on, just laughs, grinning as he looks between you and jay. “what? i’m just being honest! i mean, the guy’s been staring at you like—"

jay tightens his grip on heeseung’s shoulder, cutting him off with a forced chuckle. “alright, alright, that’s enough out of you.” he pats heeseung a little harder than necessary, shooting him a look that practically screams shut the fuck up before you make this worse.

you can’t help but find the whole thing amusing, watching jay struggle between mortification and trying to keep heeseung from spilling any more embarrassing truths. “looks like someone’s about to get dragged home,” you tease, biting back a grin as you watch the two of them.

jay throws you a look, his face still red from embarrassment. “yeah, and it’s about to be this guy,” he says, giving heeseung one last squeeze before loosening his grip.

heeseung, still grinning like an idiot, doesn’t seem to mind. “whatever, man,” he mutters, swaying slightly. “i’m just trying to help.”

you laugh, shaking your head. "help, huh? i’m not sure how much help you’re being right now."

"he’s not," jay groans, letting go of heeseung and stepping back, trying to recover from the mess his friend just created. his eyes meet yours again, still flustered but with a hint of nervousness, like he’s wondering if you’re taking this all in stride.

"but he’s right, you know," you say suddenly, your voice teasing but carrying a little more weight now as you look at jay. "you were staring."

"i-i… don’t have a rebuttal for that," jay stammers, his face flushing deeper as he struggles to maintain his composure. you can tell he’s embarrassed, completely thrown off by how the night’s turned out, and it’s honestly kind of adorable.

just then, heeseung suddenly sways, looking like he’s about to pass out. jay’s eyes widen with worry, and without hesitation, he wraps an arm around his drunken friend. “shit, he’s about to drop,” jay mutters, looking at you quickly. “i need to get him to my room before he makes a scene.”

you nod, stepping in to help, guiding heeseung’s other side as the three of you stumble through the house. the party’s still loud in the background, but the farther you get, the more it fades into a distant hum. it’s almost a relief when you make it to jay’s room, the door shutting behind you, instantly muffling the chaos outside.

as jay sets heeseung down on the bed, you take a moment to glance around. damn. you haven’t been in here in years, and it’s clear things have changed.

gone are the comic books and posters that once covered his walls. now, jay’s room has a more refined, almost minimalist vibe. his gaming setup is still the centerpiece, of course, but everything else—his sleek furniture, expensive-looking decor—makes it clear that he’s grown up in more ways than one. who knew jay had such expensive taste?

"wow," you say, unable to help yourself. "i remember when me and hanna used to sneak in here and steal your comic books."

jay chuckles, glancing over at you as he pulls a blanket over heeseung. “yeah, those were the days. back when you barely even noticed i existed,” he says it lightheartedly, but there’s a hint of something deeper in his voice.

you laugh, shaking your head as you take in the room. "well, your room’s definitely grown up. fancy, even."

jay smirks, leaning against the wall, finally a bit more relaxed now that heeseung’s out cold. “what can i say? things change. i figured it was time to upgrade.”

“clearly,” you say, raising an eyebrow at his setup. “you look like you’ve got your life together now.”

“well, appearances can be deceiving,” jay mutters, a slight smile playing on his lips as he crosses his arms, looking at you with that same vulnerable expression from earlier.

there’s a quiet moment as you both stand there, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you again. the party feels like a world away now, and for the first time tonight, you’re both alone.

as you stand there, the weight of the moment heavy between you and jay, you feel your legs move before you really think about it. you sit down on the edge of the bed, glancing at heeseung, who’s already out cold, sprawled out and snoring softly. the sight of him, completely knocked out, makes you chuckle softly under your breath.

“looks like he’s done for the night,” you murmur, leaning back slightly, your hand brushing the soft fabric of the bedspread. jay’s bed. it’s something small, insignificant even, but the realization hits you—you’re sitting on his bed.

and jay… well, if you could see inside his mind right now, it’d be a mess of chaos. holy shit, she’s sitting on my bed. his heart’s pounding, his brain scrambling to process the fact that the girl he’s been crushing on for years is casually sitting on his bed, her presence making the room feel smaller, more intimate.

god, if only it’d smell like her. jay inwardly groans, leaning against the wall, trying to play it cool. but every second you stay there, it feels like his mind is short-circuiting.

he’s had dreams about this exact scenario—well, maybe without the passed-out heeseung—but still, this was close enough to make him freak out inwardly. he’s trying not to stare, but he’s doing a terrible job of hiding how flustered he is.

“he’s gonna be feeling that tomorrow,” you say, looking up at jay, noticing how he hasn’t said much since you sat down. his face is a little too composed, like he’s trying not to let on how much this is messing with him.

jay laughs, but it’s awkward, his throat dry. “yeah, he’s gonna hate himself in the morning.” he forces himself to focus on something else—anything else—but his mind keeps drifting back to the fact that you’re sitting on his bed. fuck.

you glance around the room again, taking in how different everything feels now. “you’ve really grown up, jay,” you say softly, a teasing edge to your voice. “i mean, i remember when this room was all comics and random junk. now it’s… well, it’s like you.”

jay’s eyes snap to yours, and he swallows hard. “yeah, well… like i said, things change.”

there’s a charged silence, and you can feel the tension settling between you two again, heavier than before. jay shifts awkwardly, running a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what the hell to say.

say something, idiot, his mind screams.

but the sight of you, sitting there so casually on his bed, your presence filling the space, is making it impossible for him to think straight. all he can think about is how he’s wanted this—wanted you—for so long, and now you’re here, and it feels too good to be true.

"so, are you also turning in for the night?" you ask jay, your voice soft but teasing, as you glance over at him.

he freezes for a second, not expecting the question. his eyes flick to heeseung, passed out on the bed, then back to you, sitting there looking way too comfortable for him to handle. holy shit, what do i even say?

"uh, no, not yet," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "i mean, i probably should, but…"

but the sight of you sitting on his bed, casually asking if he’s turning in for the night, is making his mind spin. fuck, this is not how I thought tonight would go, were you thinking he still had his own bedtime?

you raise an eyebrow, your lips curving into a small smirk. "what? you too flustered to sleep?"

jay groans inwardly, his face turning even redder. "no, i just—i wasn’t planning on crashing yet, that’s all."

you chuckle softly, leaning back slightly, your hand still resting on the bed. "well, it’s your room, so if you wanna sleep, don’t let me stop you."

jay’s heart is racing. sleep? with you sitting there? yeah, right. he’s practically screaming inside, trying to figure out how to play this cool, but everything feels impossible right now. the tension, the proximity, the fact that you’re casually sitting on his bed like it’s no big deal—it’s all driving him insane.

"nah, i’ll, uh, hang out a bit more," jay says, his voice a little steadier now, but his eyes give him away. he’s nervous, caught up in the moment, and trying desperately not to make it awkward.

"you sure?" you ask, teasing him just a little, sensing how flustered he is.

"yeah, i’m good," he mutters, but his eyes are still glued to you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze, the way he’s struggling to keep his composure.

there’s a silence between you two, but it’s not uncomfortable. it’s charged, like something’s building, and neither of you is sure what the next step is.

"you’re acting weird," you finally say, breaking the tension with a playful smile.

jay laughs, but it’s nervous. "yeah, well… it’s not every day you sit on my bed, you know?" he admits, his voice quiet, but his words hit deeper than either of you expected.

"what?" you almost laugh, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. the fact that jay had been talking to a girl recently—someone who clearly had his attention—somehow makes this even more amusing. the contrast between his awkwardness now and the idea of him being confident enough to date just hits differently.

"you’re acting like this is the first time a girl’s sat on your bed," you tease, the words slipping out with a smirk. you lean back a little, watching him squirm. "but you’ve been talking to this girl, right? what’s her name again?"

jay’s face flushes even deeper, and you can see the panic flash in his eyes for a second. he scratches the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable now. "yeah, well… that’s different."

"oh? different how?" you ask, still teasing, but now there’s a genuine curiosity building inside you. it’s hard to picture jay this flustered around someone else, especially when he’s always been so awkward with you.

as your eyes drift around the room again, they land on the corner where his trash bin sits. everything else in his room is pristine, almost too perfect, but the mess around the trash catches your attention. then, something makes you pause.

huh? your eyes narrow as you take in what you’re seeing—a used condom wrapper, crumpled at the top of the bin.

the movement catches jay’s attention, and he follows your eyes to the corner of the room. the second he realizes what you’re looking at, his whole body tenses, and his face flushes red again, but this time, it’s not just embarrassment. defensive mode activated.

“shit—it’s not what it looks like!” jay blurts out, scrambling to say something before you can even comment. his voice comes out high-pitched, panicked, and he throws his hands up as if he can somehow stop you from thinking what you’re clearly already thinking.

"oh, really?" you raise an eyebrow, your voice teasing, as you glance between him and the trash bin. "because it looks like someone had a little fun recently."

"no, no, no," jay stammers, his eyes darting around the room like he's searching for an escape. "i mean, yeah, but it’s not—fuck." he groans, rubbing his face with his hands. "this is so embarrassing."

you bite your lip to keep from laughing, but the grin’s already spreading across your face. "jay," you say, trying and failing to hide your amusement. "you don’t have to explain yourself. i mean, it's a condom wrapper. it speaks for itself, man."

he groans louder, clearly flustered and struggling to defend himself. “okay, fine, yeah, but—look, it’s not what you think..”

you tilt your head, genuinely curious now, but still teasing. "i mean, it’s pretty simple—girl, guy, wrapper—”

“please stop,” jay groans, cutting you off, his hands covering his face in full-blown embarrassment now. "this is literally the last conversation i wanted to have tonight."

"oh, come on," you laugh, leaning forward. "i gotta hear this."

"it's not that big of a deal," jay mutters, still trying to dodge the conversation, but you can tell he’s squirming under the weight of your teasing.

"oh, but it is," you tease, your grin wide now.

he lets out another groan, this time softer, more resigned, as he sinks back against the wall. "this is so fucking embarrassing."

jay, still visibly flustered and probably dying inside from the teasing, looks at you cautiously. his eyes flick from you to the bed, then back to you.

you can tell he wants to sit down, maybe get closer, but there's one problem—heeseung, sprawled out like a deadweight, has taken up almost the entire bed. his legs are hanging off the edge, and you’re already sitting on the last bit of available space.

jay hesitates, biting his lip as he steps closer. he looks at you, almost shy, clearly debating whether he should even attempt it.

"there’s, uh… not really anywhere for me to sit," he mutters, his voice low and awkward.

you glance at the bed and can’t help but snicker at the situation. "yeah, heeseung’s kind of hogging all the space, huh?"

jay nods, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "yeah. guess I’ll just stand."

you look up at him, still teasing, but there’s a part of you that can’t help but feel a little bad for how awkward this is for him. “well, you could sit, but you’d probably have to, uh… move me.”

jay’s eyes widen slightly, and you can practically see his brain short-circuiting as he processes what you just said. “move you?” he stammers, looking even more unsure of what to do.

“yeah,” you smirk, leaning back a little, enjoying watching him squirm. “unless you want to sit on me, which might be a little… much.”

jay’s face flushes bright red, and he looks at the floor, clearly trying to figure out how to navigate this without combusting from embarrassment. “i’ll… uh, I’ll figure something out,” he mutters, taking another hesitant step closer to the bed.

“you sure?” you tease, watching him struggle. “i don’t bite, jay.”

he swallows hard, still standing awkwardly beside the bed, clearly torn between wanting to sit and not wanting to make things even more awkward than they already are.

jay, clearly at the end of his rope with the awkwardness, finally sighs and says, “can you please move?” his voice is a little hesitant, but there’s a hint of desperation in it, like he’s trying his hardest to keep it together.

you raise an eyebrow, surprised he actually asked, but you can’t help but smile. “oh, so now you’re just kicking me off the bed?” you tease, but there’s no bite in your tone.

“no! no, that’s not… that’s not what I meant,” he stammers, his face flushing even more, clearly mortified at how it came out. “i just—there’s no room and—ugh, never mind.”

he rubs his face with his hands, groaning in frustration, and you realize how much you’ve been teasing him all night. maybe it’s time to ease up.

“alright, alright,” you laugh softly, finally scooting over to the side a bit, making room for him. “relax, jay. i’m just messing with you.”

he looks at you with a mixture of relief and lingering embarrassment as he awkwardly slides onto the bed next to you, carefully avoiding heeseung’s sprawled-out limbs. the bed dips slightly under his weight, and you’re suddenly much closer to him than you expected.

the air between you feels hot again, the teasing fading into something heavier, more serious. you glance over at jay, who’s still looking flustered, but there’s something in his eyes now—something deeper.

"thanks," he mumbles, not quite looking at you, but you can see the tension in his shoulders relax just a little.

"so?" you drawl, your voice teasing, hanging in the air between you two for a moment. but before jay can even process what’s happening, you stand up quickly, the sudden movement causing your perfume to linger in the air around him. it’s intoxicating, and for a second, jay freezes, his heart caught in his throat as he watches you leave the room with a playful smirk and a slam of the door behind you.

he’s left sitting there, staring at the spot where you’d been, his heart sinking for just a moment, thinking maybe that was it. maybe you were done messing with him for the night.

but not even a minute later, you re-enter the room, the sounds of the party still going strong behind you. you’ve got two cups in your hands, and without a word, you walk back over to him, handing one to jay with a small grin.

"here," you say simply, offering the cup.

jay takes it, still looking a little dazed, blinking up at you like he’s trying to piece together what just happened. "uh, thanks," he mutters, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes the cup from you. the tension is back—thick and palpable—as you sit back down beside him.

"you thought i was ditching you, didn’t you?" you tease, leaning back against the bedpost, watching his expression closely.

jay chuckles nervously, taking a sip from the cup to steady himself. "maybe a little. i thought i scared you off."

"please," you laugh, shaking your head. "takes more than awkward flirting and heeseung passed out on your bed to scare me away."

he laughs, too, though there’s still that undercurrent of tension. he looks down at his cup, then back at you, his smile softer now. "i’m glad you didn’t."

there’s a beat of silence between you both, you’re sitting close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off of him, and for the first time tonight, jay’s not looking away.

"so," you say again, your voice softer this time, but still carrying that teasing edge as you lean just a little closer to him. "you gonna tell me how you got your cherry popped?"

jay practically chokes on his drink, eyes widening as he looks at you in shock. his face flushes a deep red again, and for a moment, you think he might actually implode from sheer embarrassment.

"w-what?!" he stammers, his voice cracking slightly, clearly caught off guard by the question. "i… shit—"

you raise an eyebrow, cutting him off before he can finish. "jay, c’mon. i’m not judging you or anything. just… curious. seems like there’s a story here."

he groans, covering his face with one hand, clearly dying inside. "this is so embarrassing," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "you’re really not gonna let this go, are you?"

"nope," you grin, taking a sip from your drink, enjoying how flustered he’s getting. "i mean, you’ve been hiding it from me this whole time. it’s only fair I get the details now."

jay exhales sharply, clearly torn between wanting to crawl under a rock and just giving in to your relentless teasing. finally, he lowers his hand, meeting your gaze, though his face is still burning red.

"fine," he mutters, glancing at the floor like he’s trying to find the right words. "but it’s not… it’s not what you think, okay?"

you lean in, eyes glinting with amusement. "oh, now I really wanna hear this."

jay rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable but knowing he’s not getting out of this one. "it was just… one time. with someone I met, like, a few weeks ago," he mumbles, his voice quiet. "it wasn’t a big deal. nothing serious."

"someone you met?" you ask, tilting your head in curiosity. "was it the girl you’ve been talking to?"

he hesitates, then nods slowly. "yeah, her. but… like I said, it wasn’t serious. just… something that happened." he looks away again, clearly embarrassed, and you can tell he’s trying to downplay it.

you study him for a moment, the teasing smile still on your lips but softening a little. "so, was it good?" you ask, your tone gentler now.

god, you wished you didn’t ask. the moment the question leaves your lips, and jay’s face flushes even deeper, you feel a strange twist in your stomach—an unease that wasn’t there before. sure, you’d been teasing him all night, but now, the answer feels heavier than you expected.

"i mean… yeah?" jay says, his voice awkward, paired with that nervous laugh you’ve grown used to. but there’s something about his response that stings, a strange tightness in your chest as the reality of what you asked settles in.

you force a smile, trying to push through the sudden tension you didn’t expect. "well, congrats on finally joining the club," you say, though your voice lacks its usual bite. shit, why does this feel weird?

jay chuckles, but it’s quieter now. "yeah, well… better late than never, right?"

you nod, taking a long sip from your drink, trying to focus on something else, anything to get rid of this strange feeling gnawing at you. but it’s too late—the image of jay with someone else, feeling that same awkward tension with them, suddenly makes your stomach churn in a way you can’t explain.

you glance at him again, noticing how his eyes avoid yours, his face still red from the conversation. why did i even ask that?

"and you like this girl?" the question leaves your lips before you can think twice about it, hanging in the air between you like a challenge. you’re not sure why you asked, but now that it’s out there, you can’t take it back.

jay looks caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly as he processes the question. he blinks, taking a deep breath, clearly not expecting the conversation to take this turn. “i mean… I don’t know,” he mutters, looking down at his hands. "again, it just… happened."

the way he says it, casual but unsure, only makes that weird, unsettled feeling in your chest tighten. you nod, trying to play it off, but something about the whole situation is starting to weigh on you.

"just happened, huh?" you say, your voice softer, but there’s an edge to it that you can’t quite hide.

jay shifts uncomfortably, clearly sensing the shift in your mood. "yeah. we don’t really talk anymore. it was… it didn’t mean much."

you look at him, studying his face for any sign of regret or emotion, but he seems genuinely unsure. it didn’t mean much. that should make you feel better, but it doesn’t. not really. it just leaves more questions hanging between you both—questions neither of you are ready to answer.

"so, no feelings?" you ask, and the words come out a little sharper than you intended.

"no," jay says quickly, his voice steady but cautious. "no feelings. it wasn’t like that."

but then, jay’s expression shifts into one of deep thought, his brow furrowing slightly, but a small smile tugs at his lips as he takes a sip from his drink.

you watch him closely, noticing for the first time how much he’s already had—his glass is halfway done, yet he doesn’t even seem the least bit drunk. except for those bloodshot eyes, you think, startled by how well he’s handling the alcohol. you swore you gave him a strong one, and yet here he is, not even wincing as he swallows.

and just as you're about to comment on it, jay sets his drink down and glances at you, the smile still lingering on his lips. his voice is calm but holds something beneath the surface, something you can’t quite place.

"there is someone i'd like to fuck though."

your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets at jay's sudden, blunt confession, the words hanging in the air like a bombshell. what the hell happened to the shy, stammering guy from earlier? he’s sitting there, calm as ever, sipping his drink like he didn’t just drop the most loaded statement of the night.

your heart races, caught between the shock and the possibility that he might be talking about you. he’s been crushing on you for years, right? that’s what you’ve always thought, that underlying tension you’ve both danced around. but now, the way he’s speaking—completely unflustered, so damn confident—has you second-guessing everything. was I wrong? did he get over me?

the room feels like it’s shrinking, trying to read the shift in his demeanor. he’s not the awkward mess you’re used to. he’s subtly changed—grown into something more composed, more sure of himself—and it’s throwing you completely off balance.

"w-whoa, okay, that’s… bold," you manage to say, your voice faltering just a bit. you want to ask him if he’s talking about you, but something about the way he’s sitting there, totally relaxed, makes you hesitate. fuck, am I not the one he’s talking about?

you swallowed thickly, "so…" you start, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrays your nervousness. "anyone i know?"

jay tilts his head slightly, his gaze still locked on yours, and for a split second, you think you see something flicker in his eyes—something familiar. "yeah," he says simply, his voice smooth and controlled. "you know her pretty well."

the words send your heart racing even faster, and now you’re caught in the middle of two conflicting thoughts: is it me? or has he really moved on?

you force a laugh, trying to break the tension that’s building in the room. "oh, so we’re playing guessing games now?" you say, hoping to keep the conversation light, but there’s a tightness in your chest that won’t go away.

just as you're about to press him further, heeseung suddenly shifts on the bed, letting out a groan as he stirs from his drunken slumber. the sound breaks the moment like a snap, making you both jump slightly.

jay glances at heeseung, his calm demeanor faltering for a second as the distraction pulls him back to reality. “shit,” he mutters under his breath, clearly frustrated by the interruption. he leans over, checking to make sure heeseung isn’t about to puke or do something equally as disastrous.

you, on the other hand, take the opportunity to let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. thank god for heeseung’s terrible timing, you think, but part of you can’t shake the frustration of the conversation being cut short. who the hell is he talking about?

heeseung groans again, rolling onto his back, his arm flopping dramatically over his face. “fuck… what’d I miss?” he slurs, still clearly out of it.

jay sighs, running a hand through his hair as he straightens up. “nothing, man. you’re fine. just… go back to sleep.”

you glance at jay, wondering if he’s relieved by the interruption or annoyed, but it’s hard to tell. his expression has shifted back to neutral, his earlier confidence tucked away behind a mask of casual indifference.

heeseung groans again, clearly not going back to sleep anytime soon, and you watch as jay leans back, his posture more relaxed, though you can tell he’s still tense underneath.

but heeseung, in his half-conscious state, has other plans. "don’t tell me you’re fucking jennie again, i swear to god," he mumbles, his words slurred but loud enough to slice through the tense air in the room.

you freeze, blinking at heeseung's unexpected outburst. jennie? again? your mind races, and you glance at jay, waiting for his reaction.

who the hell is jennie?

jay stiffens, his eyes narrowing in frustration as he quickly looks between you and heeseung. "heeseung," he mutters sharply, "shut up, man. you’re drunk."

"what?" heeseung slurs, barely managing to sit up slightly. "you said you were done. don’t get back into that shit."

jay looks mortified now, his eyes flicking to you, and you can see the panic settling in. great, so there’s another girl in the mix? your stomach tightens at the idea, and suddenly, the confidence he’d been showing earlier makes a lot more sense.

the silence that follows is deafening. you cross your arms, waiting, your heartbeat racing as you stare at jay, demanding an answer without saying a word.

jay clenches his jaw, running his hand through his hair, clearly scrambling to figure out how to explain this without making things worse. but how the fuck do you explain something like that?

the truth—that "jennie" isn’t a person at all, but a branded sex doll jay bought to… well, think of you—is something he could never, ever tell you. even just thinking about it makes his stomach twist. he feels a surge of guilt, embarrassment, and frustration, especially because the way you’re looking at him right now makes it clear you’re already jumping to conclusions.

but there’s no way he can let you keep thinking that jennie is some girl he’s hooking up with. he knows that this is the moment that’ll define the rest of the night and the rest of his life considering you were hanna's best friend and he girl he's loved for ages.

he takes a deep breath, clearly struggling to find the right words. "it’s… not what you think," he says, his voice strained, clearly aware of how bad this looks but unable to give you the truth just yet.

"no, y/n, no," jay blurts out, his voice more desperate now, standing quickly as you begin to move, forcing a smile as if you're trying to brush off the situation.

"it's fine, jay," you say, though the forced smile on your face doesn’t reach your eyes. "seriously, i do realize it's none of my business, sorry for being too nosy, i swear i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable."

you stand, fully intending to leave the room, the tension between you both now so thick it’s suffocating. you glance at heeseung, ready to use him as an excuse to get out of there, but before you can, jay reaches out, stopping you with a hand on your arm.

"no, wait," jay says, his voice strained but determined. fuck, he thinks, he has to say something—anything—before this spirals further out of control.

in a panic, jay’s eyes dart to heeseung, who’s still half out of it, sprawled on the bed. without warning, jay leans over and smacks him hard on the leg, making him jerk violently.

"ow, what the—" heeseung yelps, jolting awake, his head spinning as he finally takes in his surroundings. his eyes land on you, and a slow, confused grin spreads across his face. "oh… hey, y/n. didn’t realize you were here," he slurs, rubbing his eyes like he’s just now figuring out where he is.

"yeah, well, i'm here," you say, your voice clipped as you try to hide your frustration. you cross your arms, glancing at jay, who's still standing there, looking like he's barely holding it together.

"heeseung, man, you gotta help me out here," jay mutters under his breath, his hand still lingering on your arm, trying to figure out a way to salvage this whole mess.

heeseung, still half-drunk and confused, blinks at jay before looking between the two of you. "help you out?" he echoes, his voice thick with sleep. "with what?"

"just… don’t say anything else, alright?" jay groans, his face flushing with frustration. he doesn’t know how to explain this without making things worse, but heeseung’s loose tongue is the last thing he needs right now.

heeseung’s brows furrow in confusion as he tries to piece it together, but then his face lights up like he’s just remembered something. "ohhh, right! jennie!" he blurts out, still grinning like an idiot.

jay freezes, his hand dropping from your arm, and for a second, he looks like he might actually strangle heeseung.

"yeah, jennie," you say, your voice cutting through the air like a knife.

jay looks at you, his heart sinking. fuck. this is it. if he doesn’t explain this now, it’s over.

"heeseung, get the fuck out," jay snaps, his voice low and tense, frustration finally boiling over.

heeseung blinks at him, clearly still too drunk to understand the gravity of the situation, but even in his drunken state, he seems to realize that jay isn’t messing around. "uh… yeah, okay, man," he mumbles, swinging his legs off the bed and stumbling to his feet, barely managing to stay upright.

"seriously, heeseung, just go," jay adds, his tone sharp, eyes never leaving you as he waits for heeseung to get out of the room.

heeseung, still dazed, finally stumbles toward the door. "alright, alright, i'm going," he slurs, shooting you a sheepish grin as he passes by. "sorry for, uh… y'know." and with that, he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

the room falls into an unbearable silence, the air between you and jay thick with tension. you stand there, arms crossed, your heart racing, waiting for him to say something—anything to explain this jennie situation.

jay sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair as he looks at the floor, clearly struggling with what to say next. "y/n…" he starts, his voice softer now, but still full of nerves. "i need to explain."

"yeah, you do," you say, your voice cold. "because right now, it sounds like there’s some girl named jennie who you’ve been fucking, and you’ve been lying to me about it this whole time."

you didn’t want to sound like a jealous girlfriend or anything, but the words came out sharper than you intended. god, you hadn’t meant it that way, but something about the whole situation got under your skin.

jay, however, didn’t even catch the implication. he was too hyper focused on making sure you didn’t get the wrong idea, too panicked about you thinking there was some actual girl involved. he didn’t even realize you were interested—actually interested—in him.

jay winces at the sharpness in your tone, his face reddening. "no, no… it’s not like that," he says quickly, taking a step toward you. "jennie’s not… she’s not a girl."

you blink, caught off guard by his words. "what do you mean she’s not a girl?"

jay rubs the back of his neck, clearly mortified. "she’s, uh… she’s a… sex doll."

your jaw drops, and for a second, you don’t even know how to respond. "a what?" you ask, your voice a mix of disbelief and shock.

jay’s face flushes even deeper. "yeah… i know. it sounds bad. but jennie’s not some girl i’ve been hooking up with. she’s just… this thing i got a while back, and… fuck, this is embarrassing."

the room goes silent again as you process what he just said, your mind racing. a sex doll? you’re not sure if you should laugh or feel weird about it, but suddenly the whole situation takes on a completely different light.

"so… jennie’s a doll?" you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around it.

jay nods, his face still burning red as he glances at you nervously. "yeah. and… it's stupid, i know," he mutters, shifting awkwardly, clearly wishing he could be anywhere but here.

"but i bought it, and… practiced?" his face scrunches up, like he’s wincing just at the thought of admitting it. he starts pacing back and forth, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly mortified by what he’s confessing.

"practiced?" you repeat, your eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. holy shit.

"yeah," jay mutters, his voice tight with embarrassment. he runs his hands through his hair, groaning as the weight of his confession settles in.

"y/n, can you leave? i’ve literally embarrassed myself in front of you, and there’s no way I can ever come back from this. laugh all you want, okay? just not here."

before you can respond, jay’s hands are already on your shoulders, gently but firmly guiding you toward the door. you’re too caught off guard to protest, still processing everything he just confessed. the awkwardness, the vulnerability, the tension—it’s all hitting you at once, and before you know it, you’re standing just outside his room.

“jay, wait—" you start, but he shakes his head, his face flushed as he tries to avoid eye contact.

"seriously, just go, y/n," he says, his voice rough as he closes the door partway.

he’s clearly mortified, and you can hear it in his voice. it’s not like the shy, awkward jay you’ve known—it’s different. heavier. but before you can say anything else, the door shuts in front of you with a soft click.

you stand there, staring at the closed door, your mind racing. the tension between you, the rawness of jay’s confession—it lingers in the air. you’re not laughing. you’re not even thinking of laughing. all you can think about is the vulnerability in his voice and the weight of everything he just laid out in front of you.

and fuck, if you didn’t find it hot. what the hell?

you’re standing there, outside jay’s door, and the only thing running through your mind is how his vulnerability, the embarrassment, the rawness of it all—it was unexpectedly hot. you bite your lip, feeling your pulse quicken as you replay the conversation in your head.

what the fuck is wrong with me? you should be laughing, cringing, anything but standing here with your heart racing like this. every word jay said, every embarrassed stammer, it’s all stuck in your head. it should feel gross, but fuck, it doesn’t. instead, it’s making your pulse quicken and your thoughts spiral.

he’s a pervert, and it’s making you wet. you’re standing here, outside his room, thinking about jennie.

your body reacts in a way you didn’t expect, and you hate it, but you can’t stop it. your mind runs wild with questions, wanting to know everything. what gets him off, what he’s into. this wasn’t the night you planned, but the way you feel now? you can't deny it. it’s wrong, but it’s fucking hot.

you knock on the door, breath shallow, your body betraying you as you try to get a grip. jay’s voice comes from the other side, shaky and tired, “y/n, just… go. please.”

the words hit harder than you expect. he doesn’t even open the door. he just shuts you out.

what did you expect? you think, backing away, feeling the sting of rejection. you pushed too hard. maybe he’s just too mortified to deal with it, maybe he thinks he’s fucked things up beyond repair. either way, he told you to leave, and you have no choice but to walk away.

you step back, away from his door, your pulse still hammering in your chest. you start to walk, heading back to the party, but your mind is still on jay—on everything he didn’t say, on everything you didn’t get to hear. fuck.

the following days, jay avoided you like the plague, barely making eye contact, leaving rooms when you entered, keeping his distance like he couldn’t bear to be near you. but it did nothing to stop the way your thoughts kept drifting back to that night. if anything, his avoidance only made it worse, made you obsess over it even more.

you couldn’t stop thinking about him—about what he’d confessed, about the doll, about what he wasn’t telling you.

you even googled the jennie brand, desperate to understand more about what jay had been using, what he had been thinking about all this time. and fuck, the results sent you spiraling. there were all sorts of types—full body, partial torsos, hyper-realistic models with intricate details.

it was almost overwhelming, seeing just how many versions there were. some were life-sized, some were just the lower half, and the descriptions made it clear these things were made to feel as close to real as possible.

your mind ran wild, picturing jay with one of them. which one did he get? was it a full-sized model that he could hold, position, fuck like it was real?

you couldn't stop yourself from imagining it—him in his room, with that doll, your name on his lips while he fucked it. your pulse quickened, your body betraying you with how much this idea turned you on. what the fuck is wrong with me? but you couldn’t stop. the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to know everything.

and the more jay avoided you, the worse it got. it wasn’t just the doll—it was him, everything he’d been hiding. fuck, you needed to talk to him, to get him to open up again,

you were helping hanna load some groceries into the kitchen, bags of chips, bottles of tequila, mixers—everything you’d expect for one of her infamous parties. she was chattering away about the guest list when she suddenly paused, her face scrunching up.

"shit," she muttered, checking her phone. "i forgot the lemons for the tequila shots."

you raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at your lips. “kinda essential for tequila, don’t you think?”

hanna sighed dramatically, already grabbing her keys off the counter. “i know, i know. i’m such a mess. i’ll run to the store real quick and grab them. you cool here for a bit?”

you nodded, trying to keep your tone casual as you asked, “is jay home?”

hanna paused, looking over her shoulder. “nah, he’s not. he’s been out doing… whatever, avoiding people, i guess.” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “he’s been acting weird lately.”

weird, you thought. yeah, no shit.

"i’ll be back in an hour tops!" hanna called, heading out the door. as soon as it closed behind her, the house fell into a thick, heavy silence. you stood there in the kitchen for a moment, hands on the counter, the weight of everything suddenly pressing down on you.

jay’s not home. your heart raced at the thought.

your eyes flicked toward the hallway, where his room was. you knew you shouldn’t. this is wrong, you told yourself. but your curiosity had been eating at you for days—about him, about jennie, about what exactly jay had been hiding.

and now, here you were, in his house, alone. the temptation was gnawing at you, pulling you toward his room.

just a quick look, you rationalized, biting your lip. your feet moved before your brain could stop you, carrying you down the hallway, closer to jay’s door. you reached for the doorknob, hesitating for a moment as your heart pounded in your chest.

your mind continued to pull you in different directions, don’t do this. this is wrong. but fuck, you couldn’t help it. the need to know, to see for yourself, was too strong.

you twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open slowly, peeking inside. jay’s room was neat, not surprising, the clothes draped over the back of a chair and shoe boxes placeed neatly on one of his dressers, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. but what caught your attention was the nightstand next to his bed.

your pulse quickened as you stepped further into the room, your eyes locking onto the drawer. could it be in there?

you knew it was wrong but your hands were already moving, your fingers curling around the drawer handle, tugging it open.

you felt a surge of frustration as you rummaged through jay’s room, your heart pounding in your chest. where the fuck is it? you’d already checked the nightstand—nothing. under the bed? completely spotless, not even a speck of dust. goddamn, jay was keeping his room way cleaner than yours, that’s for sure.

your mind raced as you stood there, the last possible place calling out to you—his closet. you bit your lip, knowing you were going too far, but the curiosity was killing you. you couldn’t let it go. you stepped over to the closet and pulled the door open, trying to shuffle through the clothes without making it obvious that someone had been snooping.

the scent of his clothes hit you all at once, that familiar cologne mixed with something purely jay, and god, it went straight to your core. without thinking, you grabbed one of his shirts and brought it up to your nose, inhaling deeply.

what the fuck is wrong with you? you felt a wave of heat rush through you, your body reacting to the smell of him, the idea of him—the thought of what he does when he’s alone in here.

your fingers brushed against more hangers, searching, but with every passing second, you were losing hope. maybe he got rid of it, you thought, feeling a pang of disappointment. heeseung did say he threw it away. maybe he was too embarrassed to keep it after all that.

you sighed, letting go of the shirt as you stepped back from the closet. fuck, what were you even hoping to find? maybe this was all a mistake.

just then, your thoughts were cut short by the unmistakable sound of the front door slamming shut. your heart jumped into your throat. no way that’s hanna—the store was like thirty minutes away. it was impossible for her to be back already.

panic set in immediately. shit, shit, shit. you froze in place for a second, your mind racing as you tried to figure out what to do. you couldn’t let jay find you here, rummaging through his room like some creep.

your heart pounded in your chest as you heard jay’s footsteps nearing. you barely had time to think, instincts kicking in as you quickly darted toward the closet.

you slipped inside, shutting the door as quietly as possible, your breath shaky. good thing this closet has gaps between the wooden slats, you thought, praying he wouldn’t notice anything out of place.

your body was pressed tight against his clothes, the lingering scent of him overwhelming your senses again. the heat between your legs intensified as you tried to focus, tried to calm your racing heart, but it was impossible. the thrill of being caught, the tension in the air—it was all too much.

from your hiding spot, you could see through the narrow slits, watching as jay entered the room. his face was unreadable, but he didn’t look happy. he seemed tense, he stood in the middle of the room for a moment, eyes scanning the area.

shit, shit. you held your breath, trying to stay as still as possible, your body pressed up against his hanging clothes. your mind raced, wondering if he knew—if somehow, he could sense that you’d been snooping, that you were still in here.

jay walked over to the nightstand, his back turned to you as he opened the drawer, rifling through it like he was looking for something. his movements were quick, agitated, and for a moment, you thought maybe he was going to leave again.

but instead, he stood there, his hand lingering on the edge of the nightstand, his shoulders tense. “fuck,” he muttered under his breath, so low you almost didn’t hear it.

you swallowed hard, biting your lip as you watched him, your heart still racing. does he know? you had no idea what was going to happen next, but the anticipation, the danger of it, was making your entire body hum with tension.

jay didn’t seem to notice anything suspicious at all, his tension dissolving when his phone buzzed in his pocket. you held your breath, your pulse hammering in your ears as the sound felt too loud in the cramped closet space.

your hand instinctively clasped over your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your own breathing. shit, calm down, you told yourself, but fuck, it felt like you were going to give yourself away any second.

"yeah?" jay answered, voice low, irritation lacing his tone.

heeseung’s voice came through the phone, loud enough for you to catch snippets of the conversation. “dude, what the fuck? you ditched class without even telling me? we could’ve bailed together!”

jay sighed heavily, clearly agitated. "i didn’t want to hang out. i just want to be alone right now."

you watched through the narrow slits of the closet door as jay pinched the bridge of his nose, pacing back and forth in frustration. fuck, this was a disaster.

you were crouched in his closet like a fucking lunatic, and the tension was making everything worse. jay's mood, your presence, the fact that he didn’t know you were right there—it all made the air thicker, heavier.

"yeah, well, next time fucking tell me, man," heeseung barked, clearly pissed. "you’re being weird as shit lately."

"i’m fine," jay snapped, his voice tight with barely restrained anger. "i just need some space."

you could feel his agitation rolling off him in waves, making you hold your breath even harder, terrified that one wrong move would give you away. his words stung more than you wanted to admit. space. was this because of you?

jay ended the call with a sharp "later," his frustration palpable as he tossed his phone onto the bed. the device landed with a soft thud, but you were too focused on him to care about anything else.

with a grunt, jay slung his backpack off his shoulder, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thud. he stood there for a moment, running a hand through his hair, his agitation visible in every tense movement of his body. then, without warning, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift motion.

you froze, your eyes widening as you took in the sight of him. damn. jay was lean, muscles subtly defined in a way that caught you off guard. the soft light in the room highlighted the curve of his shoulders, the smooth skin of his back, the way his chest rose and fell with each agitated breath. your heart pounded harder as you stared, the heat between your legs intensifying.

it was impossible not to gawk at him. he was right there, shirtless, and you were hidden just a few feet away, watching like some kind of perverted voyeur.

jay muttered something under his breath, clearly still pissed about the call with heeseung, but you weren’t paying attention to his words. all you could focus on was his body, the way his muscles shifted as he moved. you bit your lip hard, trying to keep from making any noise, trying to control your breathing as your gaze roamed over him.

your thoughts were racing, a whirlwind of desire and guilt and sheer panic that he might catch you at any moment.

jay moved across the room, and you snapped out of your daze just in time to see him reach down toward the bottom of his dresser. is that a shoe box? you squinted, straining to see what the hell he was doing, still trying to keep yourself as quiet as possible in your cramped hiding spot.

he pulled out the box, staring at it for a moment before he opened the lid, revealing something inside that you couldn’t quite see from your angle. but whatever it was, it clearly rattled him.

“fucking hell,” jay muttered under his breath, the frustration clear in his voice. he stared down at the item inside the box like it held some kind of power over him, like just seeing it brought all that pent-up emotion crashing to the surface.

your heart pounded in your chest, curiosity eating away at you. what the hell is in that box? you bit your lip, your mind racing. it had to be something personal, something connected to everything he’d been hiding. your pulse quickened even more, your thoughts spinning wildly.

was that it? jennie?

jay ran a hand through his hair again, exhaling sharply, his body tense as if he were warring with himself internally. you could see the weight of whatever was going on inside his head, the way he seemed on edge, like he was at his breaking point.

you stayed perfectly still, not daring to move, not daring to make a sound. your heart was racing, your body reacting in ways you didn’t expect, torn between the thrill of being this close to his secret and the realization that you were seeing a side of jay no one else had.

jay pulled it out of the box, and fuck, there it was—jennie. the damn sex doll. except, it wasn’t a full-sized model like you’d imagined. it was just the lower half, tiny, just the silicone molded vagina and ass, small enough to fit in his hands.

your heart pounded in your chest as you watched him stare at it, almost like he was examining it for the first time. the way he looked at it—fuck, it was like nostalgia, like there were memories attached to this goddamn thing.

the little breath he let out, the way he turned it over in his hands, the silicone object slightly bouncing as he held it—was he going to use it?

your jaw dropped, hypnotized.

jay's fingers moved slowly, spreading the lips of the doll’s pussy open, staring inside like he was mesmerized. oh my god. your breath caught in your throat, trembling as you watched, his hands stretching the silicone flesh, spreading it as if he was testing its elasticity.

your entire body froze, torn between the raw arousal pooling deep in your core and the sheer disbelief that you were witnessing this. what the fuck, that was so hot for no reason.

your breath caught in your throat, and you nearly let out a whimper as you watched jay slide two fingers into the silicone flesh, stroking it slowly. the sight was enough to send a wave of heat straight through you, pooling between your legs. his fingers moved with practiced ease, like this wasn’t the first time he’d done this, like he knew exactly how to make it feel real, even though it was just a damn toy.

fuck, you thought, your entire body trembling. he’s really doing it.

jay’s face was focused, almost intent, as he worked his fingers inside the doll, his jaw clenched like he was trying to keep his composure. the little noises of the silicone as he moved—it was fucking obscene, and yet you couldn’t tear your eyes away. every part of your body felt like it was on fire, like the tension was going to drive you over the edge just from watching him.

his thumb brushed over the entrance, spreading the lips wider as his fingers pushed deeper, and you bit down hard on your lip to keep from making a sound.

the image of him, fingers deep inside that tiny doll, stroking it like he was getting ready for more—your breath shallow as you tried to stay perfectly still, terrified of making any noise, but it was so hard not to react.

your body was betraying you, the heat between your legs making you press your thighs together, desperate for relief. you were watching something so raw, so private, and the fact that you were witnessing it in secret only made it worse.

jay sighed, pulling his fingers out of the doll, the slick noise almost too loud in the quiet room. as he moved to the bed, still holding jennie in his hands. he didn’t rush; there was something methodical about the way he moved, like this was just another routine. he laid back against the headboard, his shirtless body stretched out, the sex doll resting casually on his stomach, like it was no big deal.

your mind was spinning. fuck, he was just lounging there, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a tiny fucking sex doll laying on top of him. your legs trembled, heat coursing through you as you tried to comprehend the absurdity of it all, but also how insanely hot it was in a way you couldn’t explain.

his fingers absentmindedly toyed with the edge of the silicone, stroking it occasionally while he scrolled through whatever was on his phone. his face was relaxed, almost casual, like this was something he did often—just him and the fucking doll. your body was betraying you again, the throb between your legs becoming unbearable as you watched him, completely mesmerized.

you watched, barely able to breathe, as he smiled slightly at something on his phone. his thumbs moved quickly, typing away—probably responding to something or commenting on a post.

then you heard it: heeseung’s voice, loud and obnoxious, screaming some game jargon, the sounds of gunfire and explosions cutting through the air. of course, you thought, recognizing the chaos. heeseung had probably posted some video of his latest gameplay, and jay seemed to be getting a kick out of it.

then, suddenly, jay’s face grew somber, and you froze in place, holding your breath. your heart nearly stopped when you heard your own voice boom from his phone.

"LET’S PARTYY!!" you and hanna’s voices echoed, loud and clear—it was the video you’d posted earlier when you were out shopping for tonight, holding bottles of tequila, grinning like idiots. oh no, you thought, realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. he was watching your story.

his expression shifted, his smile fading into something more complicated, like he was torn between emotions he wasn’t sure how to process. you saw him sigh, his fingers pausing as he stared at the screen for a moment, biting his lip in thought. his eyes then darted down to jennie—and your breath hitched when you saw him squeeze the silicone doll tighter, his knuckles whitening slightly.

shit, you thought, trembling, feeling a rush of heat go straight through you as you watched him. the weight of everything became almost unbearable. he’s thinking about you. you could feel it. he was sitting there, staring at your story, your voice ringing in his ears, and here he was, gripping the fucking sex doll as if that could somehow make the tension inside him go away

and just like that, jay cursed under his breath before shoving his phone aside and ridding himself of his pants in one swift motion. "y/n," he groaned, the sound muffled as he buried his face in his pillow. your name on his lips, so raw, sent a shockwave through you that made your entire body tremble. fuck.

he shifted onto his stomach, laying there with jennie still clutched in his hands, bringing it closer to his face. you could see the way his muscles tensed and relaxed, like he was trying to keep control but couldn’t. his fingers traced over the silicone as if it were you, his frustration and desire clear in every movement. he still scrolled through his phone for a moment, but it was aimless now, just something to distract him while the thoughts in his head spun out of control.

he groaned your name again, this time a little louder, his breath ragged as he gripped jennie tighter. your heart pounded so loud you were sure he could hear it, your entire body frozen as you watched, hidden in the closet. the tension in the room, the raw desire spilling from him.

you almost gagged, your hand instinctively flying to your mouth as you watched jay shamelessly dive in, pressing his face against the silicone pussy lips of the doll.

he licked it, his eyes closed, brows furrowed in concentration, like he was imagining it was you instead. the sound of him sighing in satisfaction, mixed with the obscene wet noises from the doll, sent a shiver through your spine.

jay was fully immersed, his body tense and rigid as he buried his face deeper, licking slowly and deliberately, like he was savoring every second of it. his hands gripped jennie tightly, pulling it closer as if he couldn’t get enough, his lips dragging over the silicone with such intensity that it made your stomach twist. fuck, he’s really into this.

you could see it on his face—eyes shut tight like he was lost in some fantasy he couldn’t pull himself out of.

jay groaned again, shifting suddenly as if the pressure inside him had built up too much. with a strangled grunt, he propped himself up on his knees, reaching for something on his nightstand. your breath hitched when you saw the bottle in his hands—lube. fuck, how had you missed that? the bottle wasn’t even labeled, just some clear liquid, but jay handled it with ease, like this was routine. wow, subtle, you thought, biting your lip as you watched.

he squeezed a generous amount into his palm, slicking it over jennie with slow, deliberate movements. his fingers teased the silicone clit, even flicking it as he smothered the doll in lube, his breathing growing heavier. when he slipped his fingers back in, he let out a dreamy sigh, his head tilting back slightly, lost in the sensation.

and then, finally, jay pulled his cock out. your eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat. god, he was big. thick, meaty, his cock slapping against his lower stomach with a heavy, wet sound. he was neatly groomed, the veins running down his shaft prominent, and the sight of him—so raw, so exposed—made your head spin.

your pulse raced as you watched him stroke himself, his fingers spreading the lube over his cock, making it glisten in the low light of his room. every movement was slow, and fuck, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. the heat between your legs was unbearable now, your body reacting to every single detail, to the way his muscles flexed, the way his breath hitched as he touched himself.

jay lined himself up with jennie, groaning your name under his breath again, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine.

"y/n," jay moaned, the sound of your name falling from his lips as he hovered over jennie, teasing the head of his cock against the slick, wet folds of the doll. "shit, you want it?" he groaned, his voice low and strained, full of pent-up desire.

your heart pounded in your chest, the heat between your legs unbearable as you watched him, his movements slow, teasing. your fingers trembled as they slid down, almost against your will, slipping under the waistband of your pants.

the sight of him, the way he was moaning your name, the way he was fucking thinking about you—it was driving you insane.

jay bit his lip, his body tense as he pushed just the tip inside, groaning louder as his hips shifted. "fuck, y/n, you’d feel so good around me," he murmured, his words making your breath hitch. your fingers moved instinctively, rubbing against your aching clit as you watched him, your body desperate for release.

you couldn’t stop. you were caught in the heat of the moment, every word he said, every movement of his hips, making your entire body throb with need. his hand gripped the base of his cock as he slowly slid deeper into the doll, the wet sound of it obscene in the quiet room.

your body on fire as you mirrored his movements, your fingers working faster against yourself.

"god, y/n," jay groaned, his hips moved in a slow, almost torturous rhythm, his cock disappearing into the slick silicone, but all he could think about was how you’d feel wrapped around him. his head tipped back, eyes closed, completely lost in the fantasy of you.

"you're so fucking good," jay moaned, his voice ragged as he thrust deeper into jennie, but in his mind, it was you. every movement, every sound, was for you.

your fingers moved faster, desperate now, matching the pace of his thrusts. the way he was groaning your name, the raw need in his voice.

"fuck, y/n," jay groaned, his hand gripping the edge of the bed as he sped up, his thrusts growing more erratic, more desperate. "you’d take me so good, wouldn’t you?" he muttered, his voice thick with lust. he was losing himself.

you bit your lip, trying to keep from making a sound as you continued to watch him. his back arched, muscles flexing as he pumped faster, harder, the wet sounds of him fucking jennie filling the room. your name fell from his lips again, a low growl, and it sent a shiver straight through you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

you’re so fucking good, his voice echoing in your head.

jay whimpered, his pace growing faster, more desperate, the bed creaking beneath him as his hips snapped forward. you could practically see the head of his cock pushing so deep into the tiny silicone hole that it nearly bulged through the other side. he was literally fucking through the damn thing.

you imagined what it would be like if he were inside you instead. if he could do that to a toy, what would it feel like to have him that deep, to be stretched out around him?

he let out another strangled moan, his hands gripping the doll tighter as he drove himself harder, his entire body trembling.

"y/n- shit, fuck yeah," he groaned, his voice shaking, and the way he said your name made your body ache. if he was inside you, he’d ruin you, fuck you so deep you’d feel him everywhere, fill you up until you couldn’t take anymore. the thought made your thighs clench together, your fingers moving faster as you imagined him pounding into you, that same desperate need in his voice.

"you’d take it, wouldn’t you?" he panted, his breath ragged, his hips slamming against jennie as his cock drove deeper. "like how i'm stretching you out? sunghoon could never fuck you like this."

"you want my cum?" jay groaned, you were drenched, the heat between your legs unbearable as you imagined being in jennie's position, taking every inch of him, his cock stretching you out, filling you up.

your hand shook as you carefully pulled down your cotton shorts and panties, your heart racing with the fear of being caught but too far gone to stop. you leaned back, pressing into his coats to muffle any noise you might make. the soft fabric cushioned your body, but your mind was miles away, completely fixated on jay—his moans, his body, the way he was losing himself.

you were dripping, your fingers sliding through your slickness, the pressure building as you bit down hard on the edge of your shirt, using it to stifle any noise that might slip out. so fucking close, to being caught driving you wild.

through the gaps in the wooden slats, you peeked at him, his muscles straining as he thrust harder. "love my cock?" he panted, his voice thick and desperate, "yeah, i always fill you up so good don't i? tell me you fucking love it."

your body jerked as his words sent shockwaves through you, you could almost feel him inside you.

jay’s hips snapped forward again, his breaths ragged as he neared the edge. he’s close, you thought, biting harder into your shirt, your body shaking as you rode the edge with him, knowing you were about to fall apart just as he was.

"gonna let me cum inside that pussy, huh? you want it?" jay's voice was rough, desperate, the words pushing you over the edge as your fingers thrust in and out of your soaked cunt. your eyes squeezed shut, your body trembling as you lost yourself in the fantasy of him filling you up, his cock stretching you just like he was with jennie.

but then, without thinking, you let out a soft, breathless moan. "please," you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

shit.

the sound hung in the air, and in an instant, everything stopped. the wet, obscene sounds of jay fucking the doll, his grunts and heavy breathing—all of it came to a sudden halt.

your heart dropped, panic flooding your body as you slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes flying open in shock.

you totally fucked up, your breath caught in your throat as you stayed completely still, frozen in place, hoping beyond hope that he hadn’t heard you.

but it was too late. you could hear jay shift, the silence between you deafening. his breathing had changed—quieter, more alert.

"who’s there?" his voice was low, edged with confusion, and you knew he had heard you. you pressed your hand harder against your mouth, your entire body trembling with fear and embarrassment.

you heard the unmistakable sound of shuffling—jay was moving, probably scrambling to put some clothes on. panic seized you, and you dug yourself deeper into the closet, your body pressing against the fabric of his coats in a pathetic attempt to hide. your heart raced, pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it through the door.

then, the closet door creaked open slowly, and your eyes went wide in sheer terror. jay stood there, half-naked, only in his boxers, a fucking bat clutched in one hand. his hair was a mess, his chest still glistening with sweat, but the most absurd part was that his cock was still hard, tenting his boxers like he hadn’t come down from the moment at all.

"who the fuck is in here?" his voice was low, edged with tension as his eyes scanned the closet. he hadn’t spotted you yet, but it was only a matter of time. your entire body trembled, pressed against the back of the closet, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

and then, his eyes landed on you.

jay froze, his expression shifting from confusion to sheer disbelief. "y/n?" his voice cracked slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. the bat lowered, forgotten in his hand as his brain struggled to catch up.

you were caught—there was no way out now.

jay’s eyes locked onto yours, and in that split second, the disbelief on his face morphed into something darker—something between confusion, anger, and sheer disbelief.

“y/n,” he growled, his voice low, dangerous. he let the bat drop to the floor with a dull thud, stepping closer to where you were crouched, his broad, still-sweaty chest rising and falling heavily. his body towered over you, cock still rock-hard and tenting his boxers, the tension in the room suffocating.

“what the fuck are you doing in my closet?” his voice was tight, like he was holding back a storm of emotions—rage, shock, but there was something else too. desire. his eyes flickered with it, almost daring you to explain yourself.

you were trembling, mouth dry, scrambling for words but coming up with nothing. fuck, you were pinned in place, completely trapped. his messy hair, the wild look in his eyes, the way his body practically radiated heat—it all made the situation unbearable. you swallowed hard, still pressing yourself further against the coats, like there was anywhere to hide now.

“i… i heard something,” you stammered, knowing how ridiculous it sounded, especially as his gaze dropped to your shorts, which were still tangled around your thighs. the way his eyes darkened when he saw how exposed you were sent a wave of humiliation and arousal crashing over you.

“bullshit.” jay’s voice was thick, his body stepping closer, looming over you. “you were fucking watching me, weren’t you?” his tone was accusatory, but it wasn’t just anger. you could hear the edge of it—the thrill. he was piecing everything together, and as the realization set in, his breathing deepened, his cock twitching in his boxers.

you tried to speak, to deny it, but your voice caught in your throat as he crouched down, his face inches from yours now. “you were hiding in my closet, getting off while I fucked a doll, and now you’re trying to pretend you weren’t?” his voice was low, almost a whisper, filled with something dark and dangerous.

"sorry, i know how this looks," you stammer, your voice barely a whisper as the weight of the moment crashes down on you. your words hang in the air, fragile and trembling as you watch him, feeling the heat radiating off his body. but it’s not enough—not even close—to stop what’s about to happen.

jay’s gaze darkens, his eyes lowering, and then he sees it—really sees it. your shorts are pulled down mid-thigh, your panties already pushed to the side, leaving nothing to the imagination. the briefest glimpse of your pussy lips catches his eye, and you can see his jaw clench. his face tightens, and for a second, he just stares before rolling his eyes, like the fucked-up situation had just reached another level.

“fuck,” jay mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to process what he’s seeing.

“you’re… unbelievable,” he says, voice tight as his eyes roam over your body. it’s not judgmental, not anymore. it’s a mixture of frustration and desire, the kind that’s simmering just under the surface, waiting to explode. “i thought i was fucked up… but this?”

his hand twitches at his side like he’s debating what to do, but you can tell—he’s already made up his mind. the heat between you two is undeniable, and shit, you can feel the way your own body is betraying you, the slickness between your thighs only making this more intense.

“come here,” jay growled, his voice rough, commanding, the words hanging in the air like a challenge. his dick was still straining hard against his boxers, thick and heavy, the outline so obvious it made your breath hitch.

your mind was spinning, trying to make sense of the situation, but nothing clicked. this was jay—the same jay who blushes when he talks to you, who’s always awkward and shy—and now look at him. his eyes were dark, filled with something so raw and intense that it made your stomach churn with a twisted kind of excitement.

you were practically shaking the whole time, and you didn’t know if it was from fear or the undeniable desire coiling tighter and tighter inside of you. you should be running. you should be pulling up your shorts, getting the hell out of here. but you couldn’t. not when his eyes were locked onto you like that.

“what are you waiting for?” jay’s voice was low, dangerous, and fuck, it sent shivers down your spine. his tone, his body language—he was different now, no longer the blushing boy who used to fumble his words around you. this was the real him, the one who’d been hiding beneath that awkward exterior all this time.

you swallowed hard, your legs feeling weak as you stood there—your pussy still slick, the heat pooling deep inside you, pulsing with the same desire you could see in jay’s eyes.

“i’m not asking again,” jay said, his voice tightening, frustration and need clear on his face.

jay walked back to his bed, each step deliberate, slow, like he was giving you time to take in what was happening. he sat down on the edge, his elbows resting on his knees, his dark eyes locked onto yours. his gaze was intense, unwavering, filled with something raw and predatory.

“sit here with me,” he said, his voice low, steady, but there was a challenge in it. the way he was looking at you—it made your pulse race, your legs feel like jelly.

part of you screamed to leave, to stop this before it went too far, but another part of you—the bigger part—wanted nothing more than to follow him, to see where this would lead.

jay’s cock was still straining against his boxers, the outline prominent as he sat there, waiting, daring you to close the space between you. his eyes flicked down to your exposed thighs, taking in how your panties were still pulled to the side, how ready you were, and his lips twitched, almost like he knew what was going through your head.

the way he was looking at you, commanding you without even having to raise his voice—it made your entire body ache. your heart pounded in your chest as you hesitated for a moment, your legs trembling as you took a shaky step forward.

jay didn’t move, just watched you intently, his elbows still resting on his knees, waiting. “closer,” he muttered, his voice even rougher now, his patience running thin.

and without even thinking, you moved. you reached down, hands shaking as you tried to pull your shorts back up, the embarrassment burning your face. your mind screamed, but your body was on autopilot. you were halfway there, about to cover yourself up, when jay’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

you couldn’t even dare to look at him, feeling the weight of embarrassment swallowing you whole, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum.

jay’s hands hovered over your thighs, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin. his breath was deep, ragged, like he was trying to steady himself, trying to believe this was really happening. fuck, it was like he couldn’t even believe you were standing in front of him, shorts halfway down, so vulnerable, so exposed.

“stop. don’t pull them up.”

his words were sharp, commanding, leaving no room for argument. your hands froze, still gripping the waistband of your shorts, your breath catching in your throat. the intensity in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you slowly let go of the fabric, letting your shorts hang awkwardly around your hips.

jay’s gaze was dark, hungry, roaming over you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. his eyes lingered on the space between your thighs, the way your panties were still askew, showing more than you ever meant to. he leaned back slightly, his elbows still on his knees, but his entire posture screamed control.

“come here,” he said again, softer this time, but no less demanding

his eyes flickered, tracing every inch of your body, and for a split second, you could see it in his face—the disbelief, the hunger, the way he was completely entranced by you. his fingers twitching as they hovered near your thighs, like he was waiting for permission, like he was afraid to break the moment.

and then his eyes dropped lower, down between your legs. could he smell how wet you were?

the realization hit you hard, making your entire body burn with humiliation and need. you were soaked, dripping with arousal, and it was impossible to hide. his breathing deepened even more, nostrils flaring as his eyes darkened, the tension between you snapping tight like a rubber band about to break.

“fuck,” jay muttered under his breath, his voice low and strained, almost reverent as he took you in. his fingers finally grazed the soft skin of your thigh, so gentle it almost didn’t feel real. “you’re so fucking wet,” he murmured.

jay’s hands moved with purpose now, one of them sliding between your thighs, fingers brushing dangerously close to where you were dripping. his other hand gripped your inner thigh firmly, pushing it to the side, spreading you open to get a better view. fuck, his eyes darkened as he stared, taking in the sight of you exposed for him.

his thumb brushed over the slick fabric of your panties, grazing your swollen lips, and the sensation sent a shockwave through your body. your breath hitched, your legs trembling as you tried to stay steady, but it was impossible with the way he was touching you, the way his gaze devoured every inch of you.

the embarrassment, the intensity of the moment—it was too much, but fuck, you wanted more.

"care to tell me why you were spying on me?" jay muttered, his voice dripping with satisfaction as his thumb grazed your slick skin. the sensation made you tremble, your legs barely holding you steady. he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin as he stared up at you, his eyes dark with amusement and lust.

"i'm dying to know," he added, his voice low, teasing, as his thumb pressed harder, sliding against your swollen clit.

you couldn’t speak, your mind spinning from the intensity of his touch, from the weight of his question. you knew he could see exactly how much you wanted this—even though you shouldn’t.

"i… i'm sorry…" you stammered as jay’s thumb circled your clit again, sending shockwaves through you, making it impossible to form a coherent sentence.

he smirked, clearly enjoying how flustered you were, how much control he had over you in this moment. "come on," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "you can do better than that, can’t you? tell me why you were spying on me."

your breath hitched, your mind spinning, but all you could feel was his hand between your thighs, the slick heat pooling there, and the way he was pushing you to the edge.

"i said i’m sorry," you whispered, your voice shaky, barely able to get the words out as jay’s thumb pressed harder on your clit.

jay’s smirk widened, his fingers still working you over, teasing you relentlessly. "sorry doesn’t explain why you were spying on me," he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement as his other hand gripped your thigh tighter, keeping you in place. "but I guess I don’t mind the answer as long as you keep squirming like this."

he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin, eyes flickering with something darker. "go on, tell me more. unless you’d rather just show me how sorry you are."

"fuck, jay, wait," you gasped, trying to shove his arms away, panic and pleasure swirling together as your hands pushed against him. but jay was stronger, his grip firm and unyielding as he fought against your weak attempts to stop him. his fingers dug into your thigh, pulling you closer, nearly making you stumble, but before you could find your footing, he locked your thighs in his arms, trapping you in place.

your heart raced, and you barely managed to steady yourself by planting one foot on the edge of his bed. the shift in position sent a jolt of heat through your body, his face dangerously close to where you were slick and exposed.

"you’re not going anywhere," jay muttered, voice low and dark, his breath hot against your inner thigh as he held you there, his grip relentless.

"i'm waiting," jay growled, his voice low and dripping with impatience as his fingers gripped you tighter, pulling you even closer. "tell me, why were you spying on me?"

"did you like it?" jay asked, his voice rough with desire as he leaned closer, his grip on your thighs tightening. "how I fucked jennie?"

the question hit you like a shockwave, your breath catching in your throat. you couldn’t answer, couldn’t even look at him.

he smirked, clearly enjoying the power he had over you, the way you were unable to form words. "yeah," he muttered, his voice dark and taunting. "i think you did. the way you were watching, hiding in my closet, getting yourself off. you liked it, didn’t you?"

your body responded even as your mind screamed for control, the heat between your legs pulsing harder with each word he said.

"wow, aren’t you confident," you managed to say, but your voice shook, the words were meant to sound teasing, defiant, but they came out weak, unconvincing as you tried to regain some control over the situation.

jay’s smirk only deepened at your pathetic attempt to push back. his eyes were locked on you, dark and full of desire. "oh, come on," he muttered, voice low and mocking as his hands traced your trembling thighs. "don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy every fucking second."

his fingers slid dangerously close to where you were slick and exposed, making your breath hitch. "i can feel how much you liked it," he continued, voice rougher now. "you’re soaking, and all because you watched me fuck a toy, imagining it was you."

"but it was me," you weakly bite back, the words barely leaving your lips as your body trembled under his touch.

jay's fingers, which had been teasing your pussy, suddenly stilled. he pulled them back slowly, staring at you with disbelief, his jaw clenched tight. "you are so fucking unbelievable," he growled, voice low and thick with frustration.

then, without warning, he thrust a finger into you roughly, but the slickness of your folds made it glide in smoothly, the feeling almost too good. you let out a shaky breath, your body arching toward him involuntarily.

"first," he hissed, his voice full of raw intensity, "you make me fucking admit that I jack myself off with a sex doll, just for you. the person I've been wanting for years now, making me feel like a fucking loser. embarrassed. fucking ashamed. like I'm some kind of pervert."

his finger flicked deeper inside you, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your core, and you gasped, biting your lip hard to keep from crying out.

"and then you," he continued, his words dripping with disbelief and lust, "you end up in my closet, watching me. are you a fucking perv, too?"

yes, you thought, the word echoing in your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud.

jay’s eyes bore into you, his finger still buried deep inside you, but he wasn’t moving, just staring, his voice low and dangerous as he asked, “are you here to embarrass me? is that it? is that why you were spying on me—to make fun of me?”

his words cut deep, and you could feel the weight of his frustration, the vulnerability he’d just exposed to you twisted into something dark. he thought you were here to humiliate him? but it couldn’t be further from the truth.

you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. you didn’t know how to explain that this wasn’t about making fun of him—it was about something far more fucked up.

“because you know about my stupid crush on you, right?” jay’s voice was dripping with frustration, his finger still inside you, but unmoving. “is this your way of getting back at me? laughing at how pathetic i am? you think it's funny?”

his words stung, his tone laced with anger and vulnerability, he thought you were here to humiliate him, to make fun of the fact that he had been harboring a crush on you for years. that all of this—his shame, his embarrassment—was something you found amusing. fuck, you could see it in his eyes, how much this hurt him, how much he thought you were here to tear him apart.

"jay, no," you finally whispered, your voice shaky, barely audible. "i didn’t come here to make fun of you." your breath was catching in your throat, the shame in his voice cutting through you, making your heart ache. "it’s not like that… i—"

but before you could finish, his finger twitched inside you, rougher this time, and you gasped, your body betraying you once again, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. "then what the fuck is it, huh?" his voice was low, almost a growl, filled with a mix of anger and lust, his eyes narrowing. "you wanna tell me what the fuck this is, if it’s not to humiliate me?" "i got curious," you hiccuped, your voice shaky, barely holding together under the weight of the moment. "i… never thought it was funny… i thought it was hot."

"i wanted to know what jennie looked like… what you were into… i… shit—" you struggled to get the words out, your breath catching as jay's fingers twitched inside you again, this time with more intent.

your voice trembled, barely holding it together as you tried to explain. "i wanted to know what turned you on." the words slipped out before you could stop them, raw and honest, cutting through the tension like a blade. your heart pounded in your chest as jay froze, his eyes widening just slightly, disbelief flickering across his face.

"what?" he growled, his voice low, rough, the anger starting to shift into something else entirely. his finger inside you twitched, but this time it wasn’t out of frustration—it was from the shock of your confession.

"i thought it was fucking hot," you whispered again, your voice barely more than a breath, the shame still heavy but mixed with the undeniable arousal coursing through you. "watching you… thinking about how badly you wanted me. fuck, jay… i wanted it, too."

"i'm just a loser, aren't i?" jay’s voice was rough, his breath heavy as his fingers curled inside you, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. "why would you…?" he trailed off, his voice breaking slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying, or what was happening between the two of you.

"the way you ignored me for years," jay muttered, his voice strained with a mix of frustration and something deeper, rawer. "i liked you so much, y/n. fuck. you made me so fucking nervous." his fingers stilled inside you for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, full of emotions he had clearly been holding back for too long.

you shook your head, barely able to keep your thoughts straight as his thumb rubbed your clit, pushing you further toward the edge. "you’re not a loser," you whispered, your voice shaky, trying to hold on to whatever control you had left. "fuck, jay, I never thought that."

"do you promise you're not just here because you wanted to see how pathetic I am?" jay's voice cracked slightly, and when you looked at him, you saw his eyes were glassy, tears he was trying so hard to hold back. the sight of him like that—so vulnerable, so raw—made your chest tighten.

you frowned, shaking your head, your heart breaking at the thought that he believed that. "jay, no… it’s not like that," you whispered, your voice soft but firm. "i swear. i’m not here to make you feel like shit. i’m not here to laugh at you."

his fingers loosened their grip on your thigh, his expression faltering as he struggled to process your words. you could see the pain etched across his face, years of doubt and self-loathing surfacing in that one question.

his hands loosened their grip on your thigh, and you moved to sit beside him on the bed, the tension between you still thick but shifting into something deeper, more vulnerable.

jay’s eyes searched yours, desperate for reassurance, for something to tell him that this wasn’t some twisted game. you could see the uncertainty etched across his face, the way he was still bracing himself for the worst.

"jay," you whispered, reaching out to cup his cheek gently. the moment your fingers touched his skin, he shuddered, his eyes fluttering shut for a second, like he couldn’t believe this was real. his breath hitched, and when he opened his eyes again, they were filled with something raw—years of pent-up emotion, the pain of thinking he’d never have you.

jay’s expression twisted, like he was struggling to absorb everything, your touch, your voice. his lip trembled slightly, and he looked at you like he still couldn’t trust that you were really here with him. "why now?" he whispered, voice barely audible, like he was afraid of the answer.

you leaned in closer, your forehead resting gently against his. "because i didn’t know how much you meant to me until now," you admitted, your voice soft, but full of the truth. "and fuck, jay… i didn’t realize how much i wanted this."

"sure, you’re kind of awkward," you say with a soft smile, your thumb still brushing against his cheek. "but i’ve been seeing you, jay. i don’t think you ever realized."

he blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise, the vulnerability still there in his eyes, but now mixed with something else—hope.

"i’ve even been talking to hanna about hooking up with you," you admitted with a nervous laugh, watching his reaction carefully. "crazy, right?"

jay’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at you like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "you… what?" he stammered, his voice cracking with disbelief. his breath hitched, and he blinked rapidly, clearly processing what you’d just confessed. "yeah," you laughed softly, the sincerity in your voice making him listen even more closely. "like, it started out as a light joke between hanna and me, but then I realized I was genuinely interested in you. you were so cute, jay. always blushing, stuttering around me." you paused, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you both. his eyes never left yours, the intensity in them raw and real.

"but before i could actually act on it," you continued, your voice softer now, "you started seeing that girl. and if i wasn’t sure about what i wanted before, fuck, i knew the second i got jealous."

jay blinked, processing your words, his face a mix of disbelief, "no way," he muttered, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

"yeah," you nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “although i did start to doubt your feelings for me when you got your cherry popped, i’ve known for a while. it was hard to admit to myself, though. i thought you’d finally moved on because… well, i wasn’t giving you any time of day.”

jay blinked, taking in your words, his expression shifting as you continued. “but i knew, jay. you weren’t exactly subtle,” you teased gently, a small smile tugging at your lips.

he let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair. "i thought i was being so careful. i was so sure i was hiding it," he muttered, clearly embarrassed. "but i guess i was just making it worse."

"yeah," you chuckled softly. "but in a way, that’s what made you so… you. it’s why i started to notice you more. because underneath all the awkwardness, there was something real. and now, here we are."

"then when i found out that you have a jennie," you whispered, your voice barely audible, remembering the rush of that moment. "i… couldn’t stop thinking about it." the memory played in your mind—the way your pulse raced when you stood outside his door, the thoughts that swirled in your head.

jay's eyes widened, a mix of embarrassment and disbelief flashing across his face. "shit," he muttered under his breath, his voice shaky, "that's so fucking hot."

the confession hung heavy between you, the air thick with tension, but there was no mistaking the desire in his gaze. his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach out, to close the space between you, but he held back for a second, just staring at you, processing everything.

“i never thought you’d… even think about that,” he said, his voice rough with disbelief. “fuck, i thought i’d scared you off for good when you found out.”

"well, you didn't," you whispered, shaking your head, your voice soft but firm. the intensity of the moment hung heavy between you, the tension thick and electric.

you leaned in slightly, your hand still resting on his cheek, your thumb gently brushing his skin. "i wasn't scared off… if anything, it made me want you more."

jay’s breath hitched at your words, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt, but all he found was sincerity. his hands twitched, and he finally let himself close the gap between you, his lips dangerously close to yours, as if waiting for permission.

"shit," jay whispers, his voice trembling as he leans in even closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. his eyes flicker between your eyes and your mouth, "can i kiss you?"

his words hang in the air, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the world outside, the uncertainty, the confusion—all that’s left is the two of you, and the undeniable pull between you.

your breath catches, heart pounding in your chest as you nod, barely able to speak. "yeah," you whisper back, your voice shaky but sure. "kiss me, jay."

without another word, jay closes the distance, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that’s been building for years. his hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, the electricity between you both sparking into something intense, something raw.

and just like that, everything went flying out the window. your movements became frantic, desperate, as jay pulled you in closer, his arms caging you beneath him as you lay back on his bed. the kiss deepened, his lips pressing harder against yours, all the built-up tension between you both unraveling in a chaotic rush of need.

jay hovered above you, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you beneath him. “fuck, y/n,” he groaned, his voice raw and full of emotion, his chest rising and falling rapidly. his hands slid down your sides, gripping your waist as if he was afraid you might slip away.

you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his muscles tense as he pressed against you, his breath coming out in harsh, shallow gasps. every inch of him was hungry, desperate, and fuck, you were right there with him.

“can't believe i'm not dreaming right now,” jay muttered, his voice low and strained as his lips found their way to your neck, trailing rough kisses along your skin. "you don’t even know." jay’s hands moved with a newfound urgency, hastily tugging down both your shorts and panties in one swift motion. the cool air hit your wet pussy, making you shiver, your body trembling beneath him. his grip was firm, his breathing ragged as he stared down at you, eyes dark with lust.

“fuck,” he whispered, his voice rough as his hands roamed over your now-exposed skin, fingers brushing against your thighs, inching closer to where you were soaked. he seemed almost in disbelief, like he was finally touching what he had been dreaming about for so long.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” jay muttered, his voice low, the words barely audible as his hands found their way to your core, his fingers teasing your folds. you gasped, your hips jerking at the sudden contact, the heat between you two unbearable now.

his eyes locked onto yours as he let his fingers slide through your slickness, groaning softly at how wet you were for him. “you’re soaked,” he rasped, his voice full of desire. "shit, y/n, you’re driving me insane."

"i've imagined this so many fucking times," jay groaned, his voice thick with desperation as he ground helplessly against you, his hard cock pressing against your slick heat. his hands scrambled to touch whatever he could reach—your waist, your thighs, your breasts—gripping, groping, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

his breath was ragged, each grind of his hips sending jolts of pleasure through your body, making your own need surge. "you feel and smell so good," he muttered, his voice hoarse as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, his hands tightening their grip on your hips.

you could feel him trembling against you, his body shaking with the intensity of the moment, his lips found your skin, kissing and biting your neck, his breath hot and desperate. "i’ve wanted you for so fucking long," he murmured between ragged kisses, his voice breaking slightly as he rocked his hips harder into you. "fuck, y/n, you have no idea."

jay’s hands fumbled to lift your shirt, his movements frantic as you shot your arms up to help him take it off. the second your breasts were exposed, his eyes widened, and a low moan escaped his lips. "oh shit, look at those tits," he groaned, his voice thick with lust.

without wasting a second, he dove in, his mouth hot and eager as he latched onto your nipple, sucking hard. his tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, making you gasp, your back arching as pleasure shot through you. his hands gripped your breasts, kneading them roughly as he sucked and bit at your skin, completely lost in the moment.

"fuck," he muttered against your skin, his breath ragged as he moved to your other nipple, his mouth devouring you like he had been starving for this. "so fucking perfect." his hands squeezed your tits, his lips pulling and sucking in a way that made your head spin, each movement sending heat pooling between your legs.

he groaned deeply, clearly overwhelmed by the feel and taste of you, his hips still grinding against you helplessly, his cock pressing harder into your wet core. "you make me so horny," he rasped between sucks, his voice hoarse as he continued to devour you.

"i could do this forever," jay growled, his voice dripping with desperation as he grew more frantic, but still kept himself in control. his mouth moved from your breasts, licking a slow, deliberate stripe from the valley between them, his tongue hot and wet against your skin. he trailed down your body, each lick sending sparks of pleasure through you, his touch lighting your nerves on fire.

you gasped as his mouth finally reached your pussy, his breath hot against your slick folds. he paused for a moment, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked up at you, before licking a painfully slow, sensual stripe up your clit. your back arched, and you moaned loudly, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

jay’s eyes rolled back as he savored your taste, his tongue swirling over your clit again, this time with more intent. "fuck," he groaned against your pussy, his voice muffled as he lapped at your juices, clearly lost in the sensation. he was in heaven, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate circles, drawing out every moan, every gasp from you.

he gripped your thighs, holding you steady as his mouth devoured you, licking and sucking with a desperate hunger. "you taste like fucking heaven," he mumbled, his voice hoarse as he flicked his tongue over your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

with precision, jay slipped his fingers into you, groaning as he felt how hot and wet your pussy was, his fingers sinking into your slick heat with ease. shit, he thought, shuddering at the sensation, his breath catching in his throat. this was so much better than that fucking sex doll.

“you feel amazing, so wet,” he muttered, his voice thick with awe as his fingers curled inside you, hitting just the right spot.

the way your pussy clenched around his fingers, the heat, the wetness—him lose control as his mouth continued its assault on your clit, his tongue moving in time with his fingers. jennie was nothing compared to this. you were alive, warm, pulsating around him, and it was driving him fucking insane.

“fuck, y/n,” he groaned, flicking his tongue against you while his fingers pumped harder, curling deep inside. “clenching around my fingers.”

every time you moaned or gasped, jay responded—sucking harder on your clit, his fingers curling deeper inside you, matching your rhythm, like he was feeding off your pleasure. he was relentless.

"fuck, jay," you whimpered, gripping his hair tighter, pulling him closer, needing more. every flick of his tongue, every deep thrust of his fingers, was driving you closer to your breaking point, and he knew it.

“cum in my mouth, please,” jay groaned, his voice thick with desperation as he looked up at you, his lips brushing against your clit. “can you squirt? i-i even practiced how to do it, please tell me you can… i need it.”

his words sent a shockwave through you, the way he begged, the hunger in his voice, his fingers stroking that perfect spot with precision. you could barely breathe, every nerve alight with pleasure. the

“please,” jay begged again, his voice ragged, his fingers working faster now, his mouth hot against you. “i want to feel you cum, i want to taste you, fuck, give it to me.”

his desperation sent you spiraling, and so you do—your entire body tensing as the pressure inside you finally snaps. with a loud moan, you explode, spraying all over jay’s face, your hips jerking uncontrollably as the release hits you hard.

jay’s eyes widened in awe for a brief second before he dove in, his tongue out, eagerly lapping at your juices as you squirted all over him. his face was soaked, but he didn’t care—he was completely lost in you, slurping at your pussy like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“mmh, yes,” he groaned between licks, dragging out every last bit of your orgasm. your thighs trembled, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you rode out the intense waves of pleasure, your body jerking with every flick of his tongue.

jay was relentless, his mouth and fingers working you over, milking every drop from you as he greedily devoured your release. "you’re really fucking perfect," he muttered, his face still buried between your legs, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

jay didn’t waste a second, moving up swiftly and caging you beneath his arms, his body hovering over yours as he lined his cock up with your entrance. he teased the tip against your slick folds, the heat of his length rubbing against you, and a deep groan escaped his throat. "fuckkk," he hissed, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the moment.

"shit," he muttered, his voice full of awe and lust, "and i was just imagining this." his cock pressed teasingly at your entrance, the head slipping inside ever so slightly before pulling back again, torturing both of you with the anticipation.

you could feel the weight of him, the heat, and fuck, the way he was trembling with the need to finally take you. his breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to hold back, but it was clear he was losing control. "can't wait to fuck you, oh," he groaned, pushing in a little deeper, the stretch sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. "ask me," you whisper, your voice barely audible, thick with need as you looked up at him. your body trembled beneath him, every inch of you aching for more, but you wanted to hear it—wanted him to say it.

jay’s eyes snapped open, dark and filled with lust, his breath catching in his throat. he stared down at you, his cock pressing dangerously close to pushing all the way in, but he paused, clearly thrown off by your words.

“ask you?” he muttered, his voice husky, his hips twitching slightly, betraying his restraint.

"yeah," you breathed, your hands sliding up his back, nails digging into his skin lightly as you pulled him closer. "ask me like how you fucked jennie earlier."

his entire body tensed at your words, a deep shudder running through him. his eyes darkened, his breath ragged as he processed what you’d just said.

"fuck, y/n," he groaned, his voice thick with arousal. "you really want me to?" his hips twitched, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock, and he could barely hold himself back now.

"shit," he whispered, his voice raw and pleading, swallowing thickly before mirroring his words.

"you want it?" his eyes locked with yours, burning with desire as he fought to maintain control, his restraint hanging by a thread.

"hmmm," you moaned, your hips moving back to meet his, teasing him as your wet entrance brushed against the tip of his cock. "yes, i want it, jay…" you whimpered, your voice shaky and filled with need.

his entire body tensed at your words, a deep shudder running through him. his eyes darkened, his breath ragged as he processed what you’d just said. "fuck," he groaned, the desperation clear in his voice. he dipped his head, his lips grazing your ear as his body pressed harder against you, his cock twitching at your entrance.

"shit, you’re gonna fucking kill me," he muttered, his voice barely holding together as he lined himself up, teasing your entrance.

and with one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside, groaning as he felt your tightness wrap around him. "fuck, i'm actually inside you," jay grunted, his voice rough and strained as he pushed deeper, his eyes falling half-closed as he stared down at you, blissed out by the feeling of your tightness around him. your body arched beneath him, your eyes glued to the sight of him sinking into you, stretching you perfectly.

he caught you watching, and the realization made his head spin. "fuck, really watching me fuck you, huh? you like that?" he groaned, his voice low and dripping with lust.

his hips rocked slowly, his cock sliding in and out of you, and the way you were staring at him, so fixated, made his control start to slip. "you like seeing me fuck you like this?" he muttered, his breath shaky, his movements becoming more desperate as he lost himself in the heat of you.

"shit, you even got off to me fucking a doll," jay growled, his voice rough as he started fucking into you mercilessly, the force of his thrusts pushing you deeper into the bed.

his lips crashed against yours, swallowing your moans as the intensity of the moment overtook you both. your mouths moved in a messy, desperate kiss, both of you panting and gasping for air between each frantic movement.

"you fucking wanted it too, didn’t you?" he grunted against your lips, his hips slamming into you harder, his pace relentless. "did you get jealous, huh?"

"yes." you whine, his words made you whimper into the kiss, your body trembling beneath him, your fingers dug into his back, gripping him tightly, pulling him closer as you moaned into his mouth.

your answer seemed to hit him like a tidal wave, flooding jay with emotion. he groaned deeply, his body trembling as he collapsed on top of you, his chest pressing against yours. the weight of him, the heat of his skin against yours, made everything feel even more intense.

"oh god," jay whispered against your neck, his breath hot and ragged as his lips brushed your skin. "you don’t know how much i’ve wanted this. how much i’ve wanted you."

his voice cracked slightly, and you could feel the vulnerability in him, the weight of everything he had been holding back finally surfacing. he kissed your neck, soft and trembling, his hands still gripping your hips, keeping you close.

"i thought i’d never have you," he whispered again, but the depth of his feelings clear in every word. planting tender, almost reverent kisses along your skin as his hips moved in slow, deliberate thrusts, connected to you but now laced with something far more intimate than just desire.

you could feel his heartbeat against your chest, fast and erratic, mirroring your own. the intensity of his emotions poured into every kiss, every breath he took, as though he couldn’t believe this was really happening.

"i'm so fucking happy," jay whispered, his lips trailing up to your ear, his voice thick with vulnerability. "can't believe i'm fucking you. i don’t know what i’d do if this wasn’t real."

your hands slid up his back, fingers gently tracing the lines of his muscles as you pulled him even closer, grounding him, letting him know you were here with him, that this was real.

"i’m not going anywhere, jay," you whispered back, your voice soft but full of reassurance. "this is real. i want you, too."

jay shuddered at your words, his breath catching in his throat as he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezed shut. "fuck," he muttered, his voice cracking as he let himself fully lean into the moment.

jay growled low in his throat, gripping your thigh and throwing it over his shoulder in one swift motion. the new angle made his thrusts even deeper, each one hitting you so perfectly that the breath was knocked right out of you. he straddled your other thigh, his movements becoming more aggressive as he pounded into you, his cock sliding in and out of you at a pace that left you gasping for air.

"jay," you yelped, your body jolting with every powerful thrust. jay’s hands were relentless, one hand gripping your waist tightly as he straightened up, towering over you, the other squeezing your breast harshly, kneading your flesh with an almost brutal intensity. his fingers dug into your skin, sending a mix of pain and pleasure through your body as he groaned, lost in the sensation of fucking you so deep.

he leaned over slightly, his hand pressing down hard on your stomach. the pressure made you feel every inch of him inside you, stretching you so fully it made your head spin. "holy shit," you whimpered, the sensation overwhelming, your walls tightening around him as his thrusts became more brutal, more desperate.

"fuck, i love your pussy, y/n," jay panted, his voice rough and breathless as he slammed into you over and over, his cock driving into you so deep it felt like he was tearing you apart.

"looks like you don't even need jennie anymore, huh?" you teased, your voice shaky between gasps as jay continued to pound into you, the intensity overwhelming every sense.

jay groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he thrust deeper, his grip on your waist tightening. "hell," he breathed, his voice thick with desire and desperation. "i don't think i'd ever wanna use her again."

his thrusts became even more intense, driven by the raw need coursing through him, as if he was trying to prove just how much better you felt, how real this was compared to anything else. "oh god, y/n," he muttered, his hips snapping into you, "i don't think i can get enough of this."

"gonna use this pussy instead," jay growled, each word sent a shiver down your spine.

you gasped, your body arching beneath him as the pleasure built, overwhelming your senses. "fuck, jay," you whimpered, your nails digging into his arms as he pounded into you.

"yeah, you like that?" he muttered, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned down, his chest pressing against yours. "this pussy's mine now."

as jay leaned forward, each movement pushed against your walls, making you grunt and mewl with every inch he buried inside you. his hand reached for yours, fingers tangling through yours as he pinned your wrists above your head, his grip firm but not painful, just enough to hold you in place.

"oh shit baby," he groaned, his voice low and filled with awe as his cock sank even deeper, hitting every spot inside you that made your body tremble. "i can feel your walls squeezing me, shit, i'm so deep." his words were ragged, each one punctuated by the sound of your bodies colliding.

"you like that?" he muttered breathlessly, his lips brushing against your ear as his thrusts became more urgent, your body responding to every move. "feels good, doesn’t it? fuck, look at that face," he panted, his eyes glued to your expression, clearly lost in the pleasure on your face.

jay crashed his lips onto yours again, moaning into your mouth between desperate, ragged breaths. his hands cradled your face, fingers trembling slightly as he held you with a kind of need that felt primal.

his hips anchored with one deep, deliberate stroke, burying himself inside you completely. he didn’t move, just held you there, his cock pressed impossibly deep, stretching you to your limit. the sensation was overwhelming, and it ripped a loud, unrestrained cry from your throat.

"too deep!" you yelled, your back arching off the bed, your body trembling from the intensity of it. jay groaned deeply, his forehead pressed against yours as he savored the way you felt around him, every inch of him buried inside you, the pressure making both of you shudder.

he gasped, slowing down his thrusts, jay's lips found their way to your neck, his movements becoming more cautious, more deliberate as his breath fanned against your skin.

he pressed a soft kiss to your neck, lingering there for a moment before whispering, “can i leave a hickey?”

his voice was low, almost hesitant, despite the intensity of the moment. his hips slowed to a deep, grinding rhythm, the sensation still overwhelming but more controlled now, as he waited for your answer, his lips barely brushing your skin.

"of course," you giggled, giving him the go-ahead. jay’s lips latched onto your neck, but the more he sucked, the more impatient he grew. before you could react, he flipped you over with a sudden motion, making you yelp in surprise.

now straddling him, his cock still hard and pulsing, you gasped as he hit a new angle inside you, deeper and different.

he sat up quickly, pulling you against his chest, one hand gripping your waist, the other cupping your breast as his mouth found your nipple. his lips sucked on your skin, leaving more marks, his breath hot and ragged as he groaned against your flesh, leaving a trail of bruises down your chest.

"fuck, y/n," he muttered, his voice thick with lust as he held you tight against him. "i can’t get enough of you."

you pushed him down, feeling a surge of confidence you hadn’t felt before. god, you’d never been fucked like this—so raw, so passionate. every thrust, every moan, you could feel his emotions pouring into you. it was more than just physical; his love. the way his eyes locked onto yours, the desperation and desire in his touch—it all made your heart race.

you couldn’t help but wonder, would this fade? the thought of this connection, this intense heat between you fizzling out made your chest tighten. no, you couldn’t let that happen. you didn’t want it to end.

you rocked your hips, moving against him, feeling him so deep inside you. the look on jay’s face—the way he was staring up at you, completely captivated—made you feel powerful, wanted, needed. and fuck, you wanted him too, not just now but again and again. flashes of this moment replayed in your mind, the idea of having him like this over and over, coming back for more.

"i want you, jay," you whispered breathlessly, your voice full of need, your hands pressing into his chest as you leaned over him, "i want you to keep coming back for me."

"you think i'm gonna stop now?" jay growled, his voice dripping with intensity as his hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you down onto him harder. "fuck no."

he bucked his hips up, meeting your movements with deeper, harder thrusts, the connection electric, and it felt like nothing could pull you apart now.

"you’re mine," he muttered, his voice rough and breathless as he stared up at you, watching the way your body moved above him, completely captivated by the sight of you. "and I’m not fucking going anywhere."

"shit, you can come here whenever you want," jay groaned, his voice ragged as he thrust up into you, his grip on your hips tightening as if he never wanted to let go. "i'll even fucking bail on heeseung—fuck, i don't care."

his words made your head spin, the desperation in his voice clear as he lost himself in the moment. his eyes were locked on yours, filled with nothing but pure need. "you're all i fucking want, y/n," he growled, thrusting harder, the intensity of his movements matching the emotion behind his words.

"even if," jay struggled to get the words out, his breath hitching as his hips snapped into you with more urgency, "you just want to come here for sex—I don't care." his voice was shaky, his balls tightening as he felt his climax approaching, but he couldn't stop himself from speaking, couldn't stop the flood of emotion that came with every thrust.

"let me have this again," he panted, his eyes half-lidded, his body trembling as he held onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. even in this moment, as he was fucking you senseless, he still had that sweet, vulnerable look in his eyes. god, jay, he was still so fucking cute even when he was wrecking you, making your mind go blank with every stroke. you straightened up, taking full control as you moved on top of him, your hands pressing against his chest as you slid up and down his cock. jay’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide with pure pleasure as he watched you ride him, his body completely at your mercy. the way you moved—slow and deliberate, then faster, made him lose all control, his head falling back against the bed, a deep, guttural moan escaping his lips.

"you’re riding me?" he asked in pleasured disbelief, his hands gripping your hips tighter, trying to ground himself.

his body shook beneath you, overwhelmed, and you could see it in his face—the way he was trying so hard to hold on, but it was all too much. "shit, y/n," he gasped, his voice cracking as he nearly sobbed from the pleasure.

"fuck, you're gonna make me cum—" jay's voice cracked, laced with panic as he felt his climax rushing toward him, the tension in his body building uncontrollably. his grip on your hips tightened, like he was scared to let go, scared of what was about to happen. he tried to pull back, but you didn’t stop, moving even faster, grinding down harder onto his cock.

"it's okay," you panted, your voice breathless but full of determination, "i'm on the pill. cum inside me."

his eyes snapped open, his entire body trembling as he stared up at you in disbelief, completely overwhelmed. "fuck," he groaned, his voice breaking as his hips bucked up into you, chasing the release he could no longer hold back.

"oh, god no- shit, i'm gonna—" jay babbled, his voice high-pitched and shaky, barely holding himself together as the pressure built inside him.

"shit, stop, i—fuck, i can't believe—" his words trailed off into desperate whines, his hips bucking up uncontrollably into you, his eyes squeezing shut as he started to lose it.

he tried to fight it, his head thrashing against the pillow as his hips stuttered beneath you, but there was no stopping it. "i can't—fuck, i'm cumming, i'm fucking cumming," he whined, his voice cracking as he emptied himself inside you, disbelief and pleasure making him reel. his body jerked uncontrollably, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps, as he babbled incoherently, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation.

you followed suit, your body trembling as the intense pleasure hit you all at once. your orgasm washed over you in powerful waves, and before you knew it, you were squirting all over his cock. jay’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping as he watched in awe, his still-hard cock twitching inside you.

"what the fuck," he hissed, his voice shaking with disbelief, "you're squirting all over me, y/n. shit, that’s so fucking hot."

his hands gripped your hips even tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he rocked up into you again, unable to stop himself. the sight of you cumming like that had him completely undone, his head falling back with a groan, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

"fuck, you're incredible," he moaned, still feeling the heat of your release soaking him. both of you lay there panting, the weight of everything that had just happened sinking in. jay’s body was still trembling beneath yours, his hands resting on your hips, holding you gently now, completely different from the roughness moments before.

he was the first to break the silence, his breath shaky as he spoke, still flustered. "so, um… was it just the dick? or… did you like me back, too?" his voice was awkward, almost nervous, as he tried to act casual about it, but his eyes gave him away.

he was staring at you, waiting for an answer, unsure of himself despite everything that had just happened.

you chuckled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips. "jay, seriously?" you teased, running your fingers lightly across his chest. "if I just wanted your dick, I wouldn’t have let you stay inside me like that."

he blinked, processing your words, clearly surprised. "wait… so you actually like me? like, like me like me?" his voice cracked slightly, his face flushing red as if he hadn’t just fucked you senseless. it was almost adorable how shy he still was, even after everything.

"yeah," you nodded, smirking at him. "i want something more. it’s not just about the sex, jay. though…" you bit your lip playfully, making him blush even harder, "that was pretty damn amazing, too."

jay’s eyes widened, his heart pounding in his chest, and for a moment he looked like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. he opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a shy, awkward laugh. "holy shit, I didn’t think… I mean, I never thought you’d like me like that."

"why wouldn’t I?" you asked, leaning down to kiss his forehead softly, making him melt under your touch. "you’re sweet, you're cute, and you just rocked my fucking world."

jay’s face turned beet red, and he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "can I, um… kiss you again?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he was still too shy to believe you’d say yes. his eyes were full of vulnerability, like he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that this was real.

you couldn’t help but giggle at how adorably awkward he was, despite everything. "you don’t have to ask, jay," you teased, leaning down to kiss him gently, feeling his hands hesitantly slide up to cup your face.

he kissed you back, this time slower, sweeter, as if savoring every second of it. when you pulled away, his face was still flushed, his lips parted as he stared at you like you were the most unbelievable thing in the world. "I seriously can’t believe this is happening," he muttered, shaking his head slightly, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"so… you're my girlfriend now? or is there, like, a process?" jay asked, his voice soft but filled with nervousness, his eyes darting around like he was unsure of the right way to approach it. his awkwardness was endearing, especially after everything that had just happened between you two.

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and playful as you sat up slightly, still straddling him. "a process?" you teased, your lips curving into a grin. "jay, I think after everything we just did, we're skipping the process."

his face flushed bright red again, but a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. "right… yeah, that makes sense." he looked away for a second, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. "so, uh, I guess we’re… official?"

"i guess we are," you smirked, leaning down to kiss him softly. "unless you want to fill out some forms or something."

jay chuckled, his hands sliding up to rest on your hips as he looked up at you with that sweet, almost boyish grin. "nah, I think I can live without the paperwork. but, just to be clear…" he hesitated for a moment, his voice dropping to a more vulnerable tone. "you really want this? like, not just curious about… you know?"

you rolled your eyes playfully and gave him a gentle smack on the chest.

his grin widened, still a bit shy but filled with excitement. "can I kiss you whenever I want now? or do I have to ask every time?" he joked, though you could tell he was still a bit hesitant, not quite believing that this was real.

"you better," you teased, pressing your lips to his again, feeling his arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he kissed you back, his awkwardness slowly fading into pure happiness.

as you both lay there, the warmth between you growing into something comfortable and real, jay’s eyes drifted lazily around the room.

and then he froze. in the far corner, barely peeking out from under a pile of clothes, was jennie, his infamous sex doll, the one he’d relied on for so long.

"shit," he muttered, his voice soft but filled with disbelief, "jennie." he laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked back at you, clearly embarrassed. "i guess I won't be needing her anymore, huh?"

you smirked, following his gaze toward the doll and giving him a teasing look. "yeah, probably not."

jay flushed, the reality of the situation hitting him again. jennie had been his secret for so long, something he never thought would be exposed, especially not to you. but then he turned back to you, his expression shifting from embarrassment to something more playful, his voice softening as a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "but I never thought you’d be such a pervert, y/n."

you raised an eyebrow, giving him a knowing smile. "oh yeah?"

"yeah," he chuckled, still shaking his head in disbelief. "watching me like that… hiding in the closet. fuck, I couldn’t believe it. i mean, it was so hot—but still." he paused, biting his lip before continuing, "you’re a perv."

you laughed, giving him a playful nudge. "you’re one to talk. you’re the one with a sex doll."

jay groaned, his face reddening. "yeah, well, i had my reasons," he muttered, still unable to meet your eyes completely. "but fuck, y/n, the fact you were watching me… that’s something I’ll never forget."

"and you liked it," you teased, running your fingers lightly across his chest.

"hell yeah, i did," he grinned, pulling you closer, his hands sliding up your back.

"you okay with a loser like me?" jay asked, his voice soft, a hint of insecurity still lingering despite everything. his eyes searched yours, like he was waiting for reassurance, still not fully believing you were here, choosing him.

you smiled warmly, running your fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. "jay, you’re not a loser," you said, your tone firm but gentle.

he blinked, his lips parting slightly as he took in your words, his cheeks flushing red again. "i just… fuck, i never thought you’d actually want me, y/n. i’ve liked you for so long and thought i didn’t stand a chance."

"well, you thought wrong," you teased, leaning down to kiss him softly.

just as jay was about to respond, the door flew open with a loud bang, and in stormed hanna, her eyes wide with shock and a mix of disbelief.

“what the actual fuck?!” she yelled, freezing as she took in the scene—both of you tangled up in bed, clothes scattered everywhere. “oh my god, no fucking way!”

jay nearly jumped out of his skin, scrambling to pull the blanket up, his face flushing a deep red as he stammered, “h-hanna! it’s not—it’s not what it looks like!” but the look of pure embarrassment on his face made it clear it was exactly what it looked like.

you couldn't help but laugh, though you were equally mortified. “uh, hey, hanna,” you said sheepishly, trying to pull the blanket over yourself as well.

“are you serious right now?” hanna stared, her hands on her hips. “you two… really?!”

“okay, okay, calm down,” you said, sitting up, still laughing a little. “it just… happened.”

“just happened?!” hanna shrieked, her eyes darting between you and jay. “i leave for five minutes, and now you’re… this?” you roll your eyes, "you were gone for an hour."

jay looked like he wanted to disappear, his face a permanent shade of red as he mumbled, “yeah… it kinda just… happened.”

hanna groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “oh my god, you guys are ridiculous. well, at least now i don’t have to listen to you both pine after each other anymore.”

you and jay exchanged a look, both of you clearly embarrassed but unable to hold back the smiles creeping onto your faces.

“wait,” hanna said, suddenly pointing at jay, “so this means i win the bet, right?”

jay groaned, burying his face in his hands. “oh, come on, hanna!”

"what bet?" you asked, your eyebrows shooting up in confusion, glancing between hanna and jay, who now looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

hanna grinned, clearly enjoying jay’s embarrassment. “oh, didn’t jay tell you? we made a little bet a while ago. i told him you liked him, but he was too much of a chicken to believe me.”

jay groaned again, his face buried in his hands. “hanna, please,” he muttered, clearly mortified.

“so,” hanna continued, ignoring his protests, “i bet him that if he ever got his act together and made a move, you’d be into it. and look at this!” she gestured dramatically to the two of you tangled up in bed. “guess who just won?”

you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “are you serious, jay?” you teased, lightly poking his arm. “you made a bet about this?”

jay peeked up from his hands, his face still bright red as he mumbled, “i didn’t think i’d ever actually win, okay? i was convinced you’d never be interested in me like that.”

“well,” you said with a smirk, leaning in to kiss him softly on the cheek. “you should’ve listened to hanna.”

hanna laughed, clapping her hands together. “maybe now you won’t be so awkward around her.” she paused, then raised an eyebrow at jay. “or are you still gonna be shy even after all this?”

jay blushed again, mumbling under his breath, “probably still awkward.”

“so was he good?” hanna smirked, leaning against the doorframe, clearly not ready to let this moment go just yet.

“hanna, leave!” jay shrieked, his face turning an even deeper shade of red as he grabbed a pillow and hurled it toward the door. hanna ducked just in time, laughing as the pillow bounced off the wall.

“fine, fine!” she said, raising her hands in mock surrender.

“i’m going, but listen up, jay.” her playful tone turned serious for a second as she pointed at him, her eyes narrowing. “if you hurt her, even once, i’ll disown your ass. seriously.” she shot you a wink before stepping out, still laughing as she shut the door behind her.

jay groaned, flopping back onto the bed, covering his face with his hands again. “i can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered, clearly mortified.

you couldn’t help but giggle, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “don’t worry,” you teased. “you survived her wrath, and I think you did just fine.”

jay peeked out from under his hands, his cheeks still flushed, but a small smile crept onto his face. “yeah?” he asked, sounding a little shy.

“yeah,” you whispered, leaning in closer, “more than fine.”

jay’s eyes softened as he stared deeply into yours, his face inches from yours as he nuzzled into your neck, finally relaxing now that hanna had left the room. his breath was warm against your skin, and you could feel the tension melt away as the two of you sank deeper into each other’s embrace.

"y/n," he whispered softly, his voice barely above a breath, "i like you a lot."

his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you couldn’t help but smile as you ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. there was something so genuine, so raw in the way he said it, like he’d been holding onto that confession for so long and could finally let it out.

“i like you a lot too, jay,” you whispered back, your voice filled with the same tenderness. “a lot more than I realized.”

he smiled against your neck, his arms tightening around you, holding you as if he couldn’t bear to let go. “fuck, this feels like a dream,” he mumbled, his lips brushing against your skin. “i can’t believe this is real.”

"it’s real," you whispered, kissing his forehead gently. "and i’m not going anywhere."

he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again, his face still flushed but full of warmth. "yay." he said with a small, shy grin.

♡⸝⸝ be sure to check out my navigation page for all my stories, updates, permanent taglist, and a sneak peek at upcoming content! everything you need is right there.

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[its-avalon-08]

Hi. Could you do a Fernando Alonso one where reader are Carmen's sister and sometimes accompany her to races to spend time together due to reader's busy schedule with her modeling career and to the point where Fernando becomes interested in knowing more about her while George and Carmen try to set them up, since they realize how well the two get along and the tension that is in the air

meddling and podiums (fa14)

✦ pairing - fernando alonso x female!reader

✦ genre - friends to lovers, meddling george and carmen, cute, fluff,

The paddock was buzzing with the usual energy of race day. The sun beat down on the vibrant F1 scene, with fans filling the grandstands, drivers making last-minute preparations, and teams moving swiftly to ensure everything was ready for lights out. Amidst all this, Carmen and her sister, Y/N, walked through the paddock, turning a few heads.

Y/N hadn’t been to a race in a while. Her modeling career kept her moving from city to city, but today, she managed to carve out time to support her sister and spend some quality time together.

“I'm so glad you could make it,” Carmen smiled, looping her arm through Y/N's as they navigated through the McLaren garage. “Feels like I never see you anymore."

Y/N laughed, adjusting her sunglasses as she glanced around. "Tell me about it. I've missed this vibe. You know how crazy my schedule’s been. But I needed this. A break, some racing… and, of course, hanging out with my favorite sister."

“Your only sister,” Carmen teased.

As they walked past the garages, Y/N caught sight of the familiar green of the Aston Martin team and its star driver, Fernando Alonso. His presence was impossible to ignore—tall, rugged, and oozing confidence as he discussed strategy with his engineers. She had seen him on TV countless times but seeing him up close was something else entirely. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly commanding he was.

Carmen noticed her sister’s gaze lingering. "Interesting view?" she asked playfully, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, though a smirk played on her lips. "Just… observing. No harm in looking, right?"

"Right…" Carmen said, clearly noting the spark of interest. "Come on, George is waiting for us at Mercedes. But, I wouldn't mind taking a detour near the Aston Martin garage later."

Y/N chuckled. "You're not that subtle, you know."

As they made their way towards George, Y/N felt someone’s eyes on her. Glancing up, she met Fernando Alonso’s gaze for the briefest of moments. He looked curious, like he was trying to place her face. She wasn’t just another person in the paddock to him. And then, just as quickly, the moment passed, and he turned back to his conversation.

They reached Mercedes, where George Russell was leaning casually against a wall, spotting them from a distance with a wide grin on his face. "Well, look who finally decided to show up—Miss World herself," he teased, pushing off and walking over with a playful bounce in his step.

Y/N smirked, rolling her eyes as she hugged him. "Oh please, as if you don’t love having me around to boost your popularity. Admit it, you’ve missed me."

"Missed? Try celebrating the peace and quiet since you've been jet-setting across the world," George shot back, ruffling her hair in a brotherly gesture. "Now you're back to ruin it all."

"Ruin it? I make everything better, Russ. Without me, you'd be bored out of your mind."

Carmen laughed as she watched them banter, but George wasn’t done. “Honestly, I think the paddock’s been too calm. Carmen’s always talking about you, and I’m like—great, now I have to deal with two of them. Double trouble."

Y/N punched him lightly on the arm. “Admit it, you love having me around to keep you on your toes."

George laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright! You win. It’s nice to see you here, Y/N. It’s not the same without you stirring things up."

Y/N smirked. "That’s what I thought."

As they exchanged more playful jabs, George's expression turned more mischievous. "Oh, by the way, Alonso's been… asking about you."

Carmen and George shared a knowing look. "Well, you did just catch his eye. Plus, he's been asking questions like… ‘Who’s the girl that sometimes comes with Carmen?’ And ‘What does she do?’ You know, the usual."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. "He could just ask me directly, you know."

“Oh, I’m sure he’s thinking about it,” Carmen said, nudging her.

As they chatted, George’s phone buzzed. He glanced down and grinned. “Speak of the devil. Fernando’s just invited us to the Aston Martin hospitality. Care to join?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, pretending to think. "Isn't this a bit of an obvious setup?"

Carmen laughed. "It's not a setup if there's already chemistry."

George nodded, backing her up. "Exactly. Come on, Y/N. Just join us. I bet it’ll be fun."

Y/N sighed, though a flicker of curiosity burned in her eyes. "Alright, alright. But if this gets awkward, I’m blaming both of you."

"Deal," George smirked, already texting Fernando back.

As they made their way toward Aston Martin, Y/N felt the flutter of anticipation rise in her chest. She hadn’t expected to feel like this, but there was something intriguing about Fernando. The way he carried himself, the quiet confidence… it piqued her interest.

And if the way George and Carmen were looking at her was any indication, they were already rooting for something to happen.

---

The Aston Martin hospitality suite was buzzing with activity when Y/N, Carmen, and George arrived. The gleaming green branding and calm atmosphere contrasted sharply with the chaotic energy outside. Fernando was standing near a table, engrossed in conversation with one of the team members, but as soon as they entered, his eyes flicked toward them.

George waved, leading the way. “Fernando! Hope we’re not interrupting anything important.”

Fernando glanced up, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Not at all,” he said smoothly, nodding at George before his gaze shifted to Y/N. “I see you’ve brought company.”

Y/N felt a slight flutter in her stomach as his dark eyes locked on hers. His presence was even more intense up close, and though he kept his tone casual, there was something in the way he looked at her that made her feel like they were the only two in the room.

“This is Y/N,” George said, clearly enjoying the moment. “You know, Carmen’s sister. We thought we’d drag her to more races since she’s been so busy.”

“Nice to finally meet you in person,” Fernando said, extending his hand toward Y/N. His voice was deep and calm, carrying a sense of quiet authority.

Y/N smiled, taking his hand in a firm handshake. “Likewise. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she replied, her voice steady despite the unexpected jolt that came from the contact.

“Only good things, I hope,” Fernando said, his tone light but his eyes lingering on hers.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, a playful glint in her eyes. “Mostly.”

Carmen shot George a look, clearly noticing the subtle tension between them. “So, Fernando, you’re ready for today’s race?”

“Always,” he responded, but his attention was still on Y/N. “And what about you, Y/N? How does this compare to the excitement of your world?”

Y/N laughed softly, breaking eye contact for a moment. “A little different from the fashion shows, but I think I prefer the noise and chaos here. Plus, watching these races is a nice break from my schedule.”

Fernando’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “I imagine modeling takes you all over the world.”

“It does,” she replied. “But I try to make time for things that really matter. Family, friends… experiences.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his again, and there was no mistaking the subtle undercurrent in her words.

George, sensing the building tension, decided to jump in before things got too intense. “You two are making me feel like a third wheel,” he said, laughing awkwardly. Carmen elbowed him, but George just grinned. “Maybe we should give you a little more space.”

Carmen chimed in, smiling innocently. “That’s not a bad idea. George and I were going to grab some food, actually. You know, let you two get to know each other without us butting in.”

Y/N shot her sister a look, knowing exactly what she was trying to do. “Carmen…”

But George was already pulling Carmen along, leaving Fernando and Y/N standing there alone. "We'll be right back!" he called out, far too chipper as they disappeared into the crowd.

Y/N turned back to Fernando, trying not to laugh at her sister and George’s obvious meddling. “They’re not exactly subtle, are they?”

Fernando chuckled, his gaze softening. “Not at all.”

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t awkward. The air between them felt charged, like there was something simmering beneath the surface. Y/N could feel his eyes on her, the weight of his attention making her heart race.

“You’re close with George and Carmen?” Fernando asked, his tone casual, but his interest was clear.

“Yeah,” she replied, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Carmen and I are really close. It’s hard with my schedule, so I try to come to races whenever I can to see her. George is like an annoying older brother, but… we all get along.”

Fernando nodded, his eyes following her movements. “I can see that. They seem like good people.”

“They are,” Y/N said. “George is always looking out for Carmen, and by extension, me. Which is probably why they’re trying so hard to—” she paused, catching herself before finishing the sentence, but Fernando raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“To…?” he prompted.

Y/N smirked, shaking her head. “To do exactly what they’re doing right now—setting us up.”

Fernando’s lips curved into a small smile. “Ah, so you noticed.”

“Hard not to,” she replied with a light laugh. “They’ve been dropping hints for weeks now.”

Fernando’s expression grew more serious, though the smile never left his face. “And what do you think about that? Being set up?”

Y/N paused, meeting his gaze again. There was something about him—he was confident, sure, but not in an arrogant way. His interest in her felt genuine, and she couldn’t deny the chemistry that was already building between them.

“I don’t usually like being set up,” she admitted, her voice softening. “But… I guess it depends on the person.”

Fernando’s smile widened slightly, and he took a step closer. “And what do you think of me so far?”

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat, the intensity of his gaze pulling her in. She smiled, tilting her head slightly as she held his gaze. “I think you might surprise me.”

Fernando’s eyes darkened with interest, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

Before Y/N could respond, Carmen and George reappeared with mischievous grins on their faces, carrying trays of food.

“Did we miss anything?” George asked, far too casually.

Y/N glanced at Fernando, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Nothing you two don’t already know.”

time skip

As the race weekend unfolded, it became clear to everyone in the paddock—especially to George and Carmen—that Fernando and Y/N were inseparable. Every free second, whether it was between practice sessions, during lunch breaks, or even casual moments walking through the paddock, they were side by side. Their conversations seemed endless, filled with easy laughter and stolen glances.

George and Carmen watched from the sidelines, their plotting almost becoming a sport of its own.

Friday afternoon

“Look at them,” Carmen whispered to George, nudging him as they stood by the Mercedes garage. Fernando and Y/N were sitting on a bench a few meters away, deep in conversation. Y/N was laughing at something Fernando had said, her face lighting up in a way that was hard to miss.

George smirked, crossing his arms. “I think we’ve done quite a job here.”

Carmen giggled, leaning into him. “You think they even notice how much time they’re spending together?”

“No way. They’re too busy making heart eyes at each other.”

Saturday, after qualifying

As the sun began to dip, the paddock was alive with chatter. Drivers were heading off for briefings, and team members bustled about. But Y/N and Fernando stood off to the side, leaning casually against a wall, completely in their own world.

“So,” Y/N said, leaning closer to him with a teasing smile, “you and George seem to get along surprisingly well. He’s not too annoying for you?”

Fernando chuckled, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “I think I’ve learned to tune him out when he starts talking too much.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes. “That’s the secret to dealing with George. He loves the sound of his own voice.”

Fernando raised an eyebrow, his voice dropping just slightly. “And what about you? Are you as good at tuning him out?”

“Sometimes,” Y/N said, biting her lip, her tone playful. “But mostly, I just out-talk him.”

Fernando’s smirk grew, the tension between them unmistakable. “I can’t say I mind that.”

The air between them grew heavier, but before the moment could deepen, George’s voice cut through the tension.

“Hey, lovebirds!” he called out, grinning widely as he approached with Carmen. “Need any more help getting through this weekend together?”

Y/N groaned, laughing despite herself. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Carmen elbowed George, shooting Y/N and Fernando a playful wink. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous he’s not the center of attention.”

Fernando chuckled, his gaze lingering on Y/N. “I don’t think anyone could take attention away from Y/N.”

Sunday afternoon, post-race

The crowd was roaring as the podium ceremony wrapped up, and Fernando had just claimed an impressive P2. Y/N stood at the edge of the celebration, smiling as she watched him pop the champagne and soak in the cheers from the fans. There was something exhilarating about being part of this world, but today it felt even more electric. Fernando’s win wasn’t the only thing sparking the excitement in the air.

As the drivers made their way off the podium, Fernando spotted Y/N standing by, clapping and grinning at him. His eyes lit up as he made a beeline toward her, weaving through the crowd. Still in his race suit, champagne dripping from his hair, he looked like a man on top of the world.

As the podium celebrations wound down, Fernando made his way through the crowd, eyes scanning for Y/N. He spotted her standing just off to the side, her smile wide as she clapped along with the cheering fans. Despite the chaos surrounding them, she was a steady presence, and he couldn't help but feel drawn to her.

Still in his race suit, with champagne glistening on his hair and skin, he approached her, wiping a hand across his face as he grinned. “Not bad, huh?”

Y/N beamed up at him, her eyes bright. “Not bad at all. You looked like you were in your element out there.”

Fernando chuckled, slightly breathless but clearly energized. “I had some extra motivation.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice teasing. “And what might that be?”

He took a step closer, the noise of the paddock dimming in his mind. “You.”

Her smile faltered for just a second, surprise flashing in her eyes before she tilted her head, amused. “Me?”

Fernando nodded, his voice lowering as his gaze softened. “Yeah. Being around you this weekend… I haven’t felt like this in a while.”

There was a moment of silence between them, the air heavy with unsaid words. Y/N’s heart was racing, the playful teasing that usually colored their conversations giving way to something deeper.

“Listen,” Fernando said, his voice gentle but sure, “I know this weekend’s been crazy, but if you’re not flying out tomorrow… I’d like to take you out. Just us, somewhere quiet. No paddock noise, no distractions.”

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her gaze locking with his. There was something sincere and almost vulnerable in his eyes, and for a moment, she forgot about the crowd, the race, and everything else.

“So,” she began, a small, teasing smile playing on her lips, “you’re asking me out, Alonso?”

Fernando smirked, his usual confidence creeping back as he held her gaze. “I am.”

Y/N bit her lip, her smile widening. “I think I’d like that.”

His eyes brightened with a mix of relief and excitement, the tension between them palpable. “Good. I'll make sure it’s worth your while.”

Y/N stepped a little closer, her voice dropping to match the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m counting on it.”

For a brief second, the world around them seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them standing there, caught in the electricity of something new.

As George and Carmen celebrated their success from the sidelines, Fernando and Y/N exchanged a look filled with the kind of tension that only comes when two people know they’re on the edge of something more.

And for once, the noise of the race weekend faded into the background, leaving just the two of them in the moment.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

NERD!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Author's note: thinking about some nerd!anakin fic where he had heard the reader talk with her friends that she's not passing physics and since he has the biggest crush on her since second grade he later suggest to help her..if she'll help him with something else ;)

Nerd!Anakin who inside was a little dirty minded boy that wished nothing more to have a loving girlfriend to do with her all the cool, nice things he always wanted to do (and he meant more joyful activities than sex)

Nerd!Anakin who has a collection of technical manuals and scientific holobooks that he reads in his spare time. His nightstand is filled with them, and he gets excited when a new one comes out. He’ll stay up late, curled up on the couch, devouring a manual on hyperdrive mechanics or some obscure sci-fi novel, eyes glued to the hologram.

He also loves telling you all about the technical details of what he's learning. You may not always understand everything he’s talking about, but his excitement is so adorable that you just let him ramble on.

Nerd!Anakin who has a soft spot for droids, and he might even give them 'upgrades' just because he thinks they deserve a treat. “You’ve been working hard, buddy. How about a new power cell?”. He’ll talk to them while he works, explaining what he’s doing like they’re his assistants (his fav is R2D2 obviously)

Nerd!Anakin who gets ridiculously excited about the latest gadgets or tech upgrades. When something new comes out, he’s like a kid in a candy store. Whether it's a new holo-terminal, a high-speed pod engine - he’s always the first in line to get it. He’ll show it off to you, explaining every little detail with enthusiasm. “Look at this! It has a new feature that triples efficiency!” He gets that adorable spark in his eye, completely geeking out over the smallest improvements.

Nerd!Anakin who would love when you'd do your nails; he'd ask soon later (when you two are alone) if you could play with his hair to only feel you scratch very gently against his scalp

Nerd!Anakin who was a great whimpering mess whenever you touched him (poor guy had never felt woman's touch before);

a sharp gasp left his mouth as you touched the mushroomy tip of his member, his hips jerking towards you without thought. he was already embarrassingly close, and now your teasing was only driving him closer to the edge “please-“ he let out a pleading moan, the words barely leaving his dry mouth

"please what ani? Use your words like good boys do"

He tried to focus enough to form a coherent sentence but it was getting so hard when all his mind could focus on, was the way you made him feel “I’m close-“ he gasped out, his hips rocking frantically against your tightening fist “I’m so close baby, i need it” he let out a sobbing whimper

"can you hold it in a little?" you asked gently

he groaned at the question before nodding almost desperately “for you, anything” his glasses sliding down his nose

You only hummed, all proud of your actions. How easily you could tear him apart by your single touch. Using her free hand to move his glasses so they were a bit more comfortable on him. You increased your movements, making sure to

he could feel the heat in his abdomen tighten as your hand moved faster. he was struggling to keep himself together, not much to your surprise "oh-oh god-“ he let out a loud gasp and a groan as your thumb moved over his tip again, that little touch sending electricity up his spine “oh-fuck…” one hand digging into the couch for some kind of grip “I can’t hold it—please please please” tears of desperation and overwhelming began to prick at the corner of his eyes

Nerd!Anakin who when was nervous, draw circles and designs on the back of your hand to relax himself

Nerd!Anakin who did your own minifigure from Legos

Nerd!Anakin who always had perfectly ironed shirts

Nerd!Anakin who in general was perfectionist in everything he'd do. If he had a mess in his room, he couldn't focus normally. If just one thing was moved inches apart, it drove him wild

Nerd!Anakin who made cupcakes with his mother for you

Nerd!Anakin who's a true mommy's boy

Nerd!Anakin who teared up after you gave him his first blowjob. He felt so overstimulated when his thick member was hugged around your warm throat, your tongue working on his shaft..it was way too much for the first time, he'd gasp and ask you to slow down because if you wouldn't, you'd already have his cum dripping down your throat

Nerd!Anakin who gave you flowers - sometimes real one and sometimes he'd do them from origamy

Nerd!Anakin who has a little sketchbook where he draws schematics for future projects—droid designs, custom technology accessories, etc. He’s always thinking of new ways to improve things, and his sketches are filled with intricate details and notes.

Sometimes, he’ll show you a design he’s particularly proud of, grinning ear to ear as he explains how it works. “What do you think? Pretty sleek, huh?”

Nerd!Anakin who was a true worshipper of your body. Would press such gentle kisses all over your body as if you were a ceramic doll he was scared to break

Nerd!Anakin who's glasses got foggy everytime he made love to you, his curls sticking to his forehead and his pinky, swollen lips quivering to hold back his own orgasm

Nerd!Anakin who adored math and physics (but not as much as he adored you). And of course, he loved to help you with those subjects

Nerd!Anakin ho invited you to weekly movie marathon. With all the snacks ready and a fluffy blanket

Nerd!Anakin who adored to cuddle with you. It was something so precious for him, and whenever he had a chance, he'd just wrap his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzle to your soft neck

Nerd!Anakin who liked to play with your hair like brushing them out of your face, twirling the strand around his finger and watch intensively, as if it was the most important/gorgeous/captivating sight he had seen, how it hugged his finger so perfectly

Nerd!Anakin who had his 'sexual education' with you;

Anakin hesitantly reached out, his hand trembling as he lifted it towards your chest. He hesitates for a moment once more, not sure if he's ready to do that. He just felt so sinful watching you naked..but oh so good.. so, before the thoughts would envelope his entire mind, he gently cupped one of your round, full breasts. He instantly marveled at, not only the softeneness but the weight, the way it filled his palm, how it was so beautiful, seeing your raspberry ripple hidden thanks to his large hand made him feel so fuzzy all inside

As he squeezed the soft globe tentatively, feeling its weight sprawl all over his senses, he couldn't help but let out a low moan, his body responding to the newfound pleasure. Guilty feelings fade away, leaving him all needy for more of you. His fingertips graze over your nipple to harden it, eliciting a soft gasp from both of you. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with wonder. "I-how i-" he stuttered shyly "-what should I do now?"

"whatever you want..you can kiss it, play with it, anything you want Annie"

Anakin's eyes widen at your words. To have the whole access to your body felt more pleasurable than anything in his life. He leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to the underside of your breast. You gazed down at how his glasses pressed against your skin, making your breath hitched. He then brought his hand up to gently squeeze and caress the soft mound at your left breast, almost nuzzling to the right one. He looked back up at you, seeking approval, as if not sure if he could go any further

"go on, they're all yours" you encouraged

Anakin smiles shyly at your encouragement, feeling emboldened. He starts to kiss and lick at your breasts, alternating between the two. He gently nibbles on your nipples, sucking on them and releasing them with soft popping sounds. "Ahh... they're so soft... and t-tasty..." he mumbled the last part more quietly, as if embarrassed that he actually thought about your breasts in that way

he accidentally uses a bit too much pressure with his teeth, causing you to hiss in pain. He immediately freezes, his eyes filled with worry. "I'm so sorry... did I hurt you?" His voice soft, laced with adorable concern.

"no--its okay..just try to use a little less teeth..and relax"

Anakin nods, his expression turning gentle again. He leans back in, this time more careful, his touch feather-light. He alternates between sucking and licking, paying close attention to the way you react to his touch. "Like this?" He asks softly, his voice muffled against your skin.

"just like that" you tugged on his curls

After the moaned sentence left your mouth, Anakin felt a surge of pride. He continues his gentle ministrations, his own body growing harder with each passing moment. He looks up at you,l with his eyes hooded. "Can I... can I kiss you lower now?"

Nerd!Anakin who was scared to eat you out at first, cause it'd be his very much first pussy. But when he did, he had no idea how to do it. He used his teeth a little too much, his tongue a bit too forceful but in time he got better

Nerd!Anakin who loves space documentaries. He'll make you sit with him on the couch to watch them, enthusiastically pointing out facts you didn’t even know he knew. He’s the type to lean over and say things like, “Did you know that this system’s star is actually binary? And it formed 4.6 billion years ago?”

Nerd!Anakin who uses cheesy, nerdy pick-up lines that leave you both laughing. He’s the kind of guy who would say, “Are you made of copper and tellurium? Because you’re Cu-Te.” He says it with so much confidence that you can’t help but find it endearing.

When you tease him about it, he’ll get all flustered, scratching the back of his head with that sheepish grin. “I thought it was clever..and you'd like it, maybe give me a small kiss or something.."

Nerd!Anakin who is fiercely protective of his tech projects. If someone tries to mess with them or touch his tools without asking, he’ll get all defensive. “Hey, be careful with that! I’ve been working on this for weeks.”

But when it’s you? He lets you mess with his projects all you want, even if it makes him a bit nervous. He’ll give you a dorky smile and say, “Just don’t break it, okay?” But secretly, he loves sharing his passions with you.

Nerd!Anakin who, as smart as he is with machines, is absolutely terrible in the kitchen. He’ll try to make you dinner as a sweet surprise, but something always goes wrong—he burns the food, the recipe doesn’t turn out, or the kitchen ends up looking like a disaster zone.

He’ll stand there, looking embarrassed but hopeful, holding a burnt dish with a lopsided grin. “Uh, it’s a little... crispy..”

Nerd!Anakin who leaves you small, nerdy notes;

On a sticky note on your fridge

"You’re the binary star to my existence. Without you, my orbit is off. Also, I reprogrammed the toaster. You're welcome.”

In your notebook or planner

“If I could rewrite the laws of physics, I'd bend space-time just to spend an extra 5 minutes with you.”

"The only code I can’t crack? How you make my heart race this fast.

Tucked inside your favorite book

“You're like the perfect algorithm: complex, beautiful, and always leaving me wanting to solve the equation that is you.”

On your desk after a long day

“You must have a gravity field around you, because I can't seem to stay away. P.S. Check under the desk, I might've added a small modification.”

Next to your coffee in the morning

"You must be a supernova, because you light up my entire galaxy."

Left on the keyboard of your laptop

“I may be fluent in over 6 million forms of communication, but none can express how much you mean to me. Except maybe binary: 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101.”

On a scrap of paper in your bag

“If life were an RPG, you’d be the rarest item—a perfect balance of stats, charisma, and intelligence. Also, +100 beauty.”

Tucked in between your sketchpad pages (if you're into art)

“You’re the canvas, I’m the artist... together, we create the perfect masterpiece. P.S. I’m still better at drawing starships though.”

Left in your lunchbox

“Did you know you increase productivity in starship repairs by 43% just by being near me? I’d call that a superpower.”

Taped to a little DIY gadget he made for you

“This little thing is just like you—ingenious and holds everything together. Also, try pressing the blue button for a surprise.”

Next to your favorite snack

“You’re like the perfect engineering schematic: flawless in design, and I can’t stop marveling at the details.”

In your locker

"I’d cross the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs just to see your smile."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet (I have not forgot about you now ;) )

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[lelengerine]

pairing. jeno x reader

synopsis. based on this req <3

genre. friends to lovers au, very much situationship vibes at first, a LOT of overthinking being done >:D, honestly they're a little dumb for not realizing eo's feelings... lmk if anything was missed!

wc. 1.0k words

notes. ahhh i absolutely loved writing this TAT i really feel like jeno would be the type of person you'd be in this kind of situation with,, u are so right for this anon!! likes and feedback are highly appreciated!

m.list

it was one of those things you never gave much thought to in the beginning—a brush of fingers as you passed jeno a drink, the occasional accidental graze of hands when you walked side by side. but lately, it was happening more often, and the frequency was something you noticed more often than not. your pinkies would always linger in each other’s proximity just a beat too long, like they were waiting for permission to stay, yet despite this, neither of you ever said anything to address it. what was there to say? you told yourself not to overthink it. jeno was your best friend, and best friends were allowed to be close. right?

but now, the subtle touches had turned into something else. you’d been holding hands, and not just in fleeting, momentary grasps, but in quiet moments where neither of you dared to pull away. it started with using little things as an excuse—safety while crossing the street, blaming the chill of the weather, sitting close enough that his hand would naturally find yours, and somehow it felt like the most natural thing in the world. 

that also meant it had become impossible to ignore. 

today, you sat across from jeno at the café you both loved, the one with the worn, wooden tables and the smell of fresh pastries that made the place feel like home. the late afternoon sun filtered through the large windows, casting a soft golden glow over everything. it should’ve been relaxing, like usual, but today there was an undercurrent of something different in the air. the conversation flowed like usual—random topics, the comfortable back and forth you both were so good at, but you kept getting distracted.

your hand rested next to jeno’s on the table, the space between them feeling charged with unspoken words. you hadn’t noticed it at first, but now every shift, every little movement, felt like a dance—as if you were both painfully aware of how close you were but too afraid to do anything about it. 

your gaze eventually flickered to the sight of your hand, coming to realize that your hands were unknowingly inching closer to each other again. jeno had large hands, littered with callouses from countless hours of playing video games at midnight. yours were much smaller and had that delicate look to it, but somehow the contrast seemed just right when they were together.

you shook yourself out of your thoughts, forcing your attention back to what jeno was saying; something about the latest hobby he picked up from his friend, photography, and how he was trying to capture the little details that people often overlooked for the past week. you tried to focus—you really did—but the weight of your own thoughts kept pulling you back.

“hey,” the sound of his voice cut through your reverie, and you blinked, startled to find him watching you. his eyes, which were usually playful, held something deeper, like he was trying to figure something out. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you replied too quickly for your liking, feeling your pulse quicken. “just... spaced out for a second.”

but jeno didn’t seem convinced. his gaze lingered on you a moment longer, then drifted down to where your hands still rested—close, but not quite touching. his lips quirked up into a small, almost nervous smile. “can i ask you something?”

“sure.” if his goal was to rub off his nervousness onto you, then he surely succeeded because you were beginning to sweat buckets on the inside, a painful anticipation bubbling within you.

he rubbed the back of his neck in that way he always did when he was about to say something serious. you’d seen that look before—before exams, before difficult conversations about the future, but this felt different. “what are we?”

“what do you mean?” you asked, your voice betraying the calm you were trying to project. you knew exactly what he meant, but hearing it out loud was something else entirely. it was the question you had been avoiding, the one you thought maybe, just maybe, would never need to be asked.

jeno's eyes searched yours, as if he were looking for the answer that neither of you had dared to say. he hesitated, his hand finally shifting closer, fingers brushing against yours so lightly it sent a shiver down your spine. “i don’t know,” he admitted softly, “but we’ve been—” he stopped, glancing down at your hands again. “we’ve been coming to cafes together, sharing bites of our meals, even holding hands in public and... it doesn’t feel like something best friends normally do anymore.”

“i noticed,” you admitted quietly, your breath catching as your thumb brushed over his without thinking.

he nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “so… what are we doing? are we just—” he paused, searching for the right words, “—pretending this doesn’t mean anything?”

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, though it was tinged with nervousness. “i don’t know,” you whispered. “i don’t know what we are.”

your mind was racing, trying to piece together all the feelings you’d been pushing down. you’d convinced yourself that it was nothing, that you were just overthinking things. but now, looking at him, feeling the way his fingers curled around yours like he was afraid to let go, you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore.

you closed your eyes for a brief second, willing the courage to surface. “but i do know that i like you,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “probably more than i should if you only see me as a friend.”

the weight of your words hung between you, and for a terrifying moment, you thought you’d made a mistake—that maybe you’d just ruined everything. but when you looked up, jeno wasn’t pulling away. if anything, he was leaning closer, his expression softening in a way you hadn’t expected.

“more than a friend?” he asked, his voice tinged with something between disbelief and hope.

you nodded slowly, your heart in your throat. “yeah. more than a friend.”

jeno was quiet for a long moment, his eyes never leaving yours, and when he finally spoke, his voice was gentle. “good,” he whispered, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “because i feel the same.”

[wandaslittlebird]

As The Summer Ends

Wanda x Natasha x Reader

As the summer comes to a close, you and your girlfriends celebrate with one more day in the sun.

CW: Pure fluff, R calls WandaNat Mama/Daddy but only like once.

Word Count: 1.3k(ish)

A/N: Happy last day of summer everyone! I hope everyone had a wonderful season, and you’re all excited to see what wonders the fall brings.

It was your first year ever attending Pepper Potts’ yearly “end of the summer” pool party: the celebration she had every year the day before it was time to cover the pool for the winter. You’d been invited as Wanda and Natasha’s plus one, as you still didn’t really know Pepper, or anyone else in attendance.

Much to your dismay, none of the other women seemed too eager to actually be in the pool. In fact, aside from you, Natasha was the only other person in the water. And she wasn’t even swimming. She was leaned up against the side of the pool talking to Maria.

Sure it was a little cold, as it was late September and there was a growing chill in the air, but you never got to go swimming. You did so love the water.

Wanda’s heart swelled with affection as she watched you from a beach chair, flopping around the water like a fish. Your child-like nature knew no bounds. You didn’t seem to have a care in a world about what the adults around you were doing, despite being one yourself. You swam laps around the pool, did handstands in the water, dove off the side and swam to the bottom of the deep end. You seemed to be keeping yourself entertained well.

However, as time wore on, Wanda could see you getting restless. You tried to join Natasha and Maria’s conversation, but they didn’t seem interested. Wanda frowned as she watched you try to talk, only to be ignored and talked over by her wife and her friend. Your joyful disposition cracked into one of isolation as you slowly began to feel like an outsider in this group of people.

She huffed, tempted to go over and have a word with Natasha about ignoring you. But, as she remembered how much you had had playing in the water, she got a better idea. She sat down on the lip of the pool, putting her feet into the cool water.

“Honey!” she shouted, making you turn your head as you popped up out of the water. She curled her fingers, beckoning you towards her. Obediently, you stopped everything you were doing to join her on the edge of the pool, laying your head on your hands next to her to avoid getting her wet.

“Yes?” you asked, innocently looking up at her from the water.

She lifted your head and bent over to whisper in your ear. “If you can knock Tasha over in the water, I’ll get you ice cream on the way home.”

You nervously turned around to find Natasha where she’d been this whole time, talking to Maria by the side of the pool. Her top half was completely out of the water. She hadn’t even gotten her hair wet. “But she’s talking to Maria. It would be impolite to-” you attempted to explain.

She cut you off with a soft smile. “Don’t worry, little love. I’m sure their conversation is drier than a sack of flour anyway. Go make your daddy actually have some fun.” She winked, lightly pinching your cheek.

A smile slowly grew across your face as you turned away from Wanda. You planned your approach carefully, deciding to launch yourself off the side wall and throw yourself into the back of her knees as hard as you possibly could.

Natasha stumbled as you knocked against her, immediately annoyed. “What the-” She glanced down at you in the water, then up at Wanda, smirking smugly by the side of the pool. She rolled her eyes and picked you up out of the water.

You squealed as you were caught, disappointed but not surprised that your first attempt had failed.

“Hold on, Maria,” Natasha joked. “I gotta teach this little punk a lesson.” You tried to squirm out of her grasp, but you were quickly thrown ass over head into the deep end of the pool.

You squealed again with excited delight. Wanda smiled, watching as you quickly turned tailed to go for Natasha’s feet again. Once again, you were dragged out of the water and tossed back into the deep end. Natasha had no difficulty dexterously dodging your attempts to knock her down, but you didn’t even really care to be losing the bet. It was reward enough to finally have somebody to play with, even if you were devastatingly out matched.

You were getting out of breath after a few rounds of fighting Natasha just to be effortlessly tossed back into the water again. You grabbed at the side of the pool, breathing heavy. Natasha was laughing now too, enjoying your frazzled and breathless face. She was glad that Wanda could at least pick a game that took way more energy out of you than her.

You turned around, ready to make another pass at Natasha. You didn’t actually think you'd ever be able to knock her down, but you liked it when she threw you into the water. You grabbed at her legs again. However, this time, before she could grab you and pull you out of the water, you saw two scarlet tendrils wrap around her ankles. She shouted before she was quickly pulled under the water.

You stood up, a little dazed, to find Natasha coming out of the water as well, completely and utterly soaked. Her nicely curled hair was now flat and wet against her head.

“You got her!” Wanda laughed.

“Oh it’s on,” Natasha challenged, quickly making her way to the end of the pool, where Wanda sat. Before she could reach her, though, she was wrapped with more scarlet tendrils that hoisted her out of the water, carried her to the deep end of the pool, and dropped her in.

You shrieked with joyous surprise, making your way back to Wanda as well. She let you approach, knowing that, unlike Natasha, you would never dream of pulling her into the water. “Mama, can you throw me next?”

Wanda’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “You want me to throw you in the water like Tasha?”

You nodded eagerly.

She wrapped you up in her magic, pulling you from the water and carrying you across the pool. You giggled as the magic disappeared and you were dropped into the water.

Natasha climbed out of the water, grabbing a towel and drying herself off before sitting down next to Wanda. She laughed as you eagerly swam all the way back to them, looking up at Wanda expectantly.

“Again?” Wanda chuckled.

You nodded, laughing uncontrollably as she picked you again and threw you into the water. She went a bit higher this time, not dropping you until you were a good ten feet above the water.

She threw you a few more times, changing her tactics a little every time. Sometimes she dropped you in upside down. Other times she would hold you still above the water while you waited in anxious anticipation to be dropped. You were roaring with excitement and laughter the whole time.

It wasn’t long before you were completely and utterly spent, physically exhausted from all the swimming. Natasha stood next to the steps, a fluffy towel in her outspread arms. You breathlessly climbed up into her arms, allowing yourself to be dried off.

Wanda made a space for you to sit in between her legs. You happily sat down, putting your feet back into the water as she pulled you so your back was flush to her front. You cuddled into her tiredly.

Somebody tapped your shoulder from behind. You turned your head to find Pepper, holding a waffle cone with chocolate ice cream. “I heard ice cream was on the line. And it looks like you won the bet.”

You smiled and took the ice cream, eagerly licking at it before it could melt in the sun. “Thank you, Mrs. Potts.”

“Of course, kiddo,” she said, playfully ruffling your hair.

Wanda laughed as you proceeded to get the ice cream all over your face. She periodically wiped it away with a towel.

You would miss days like this as the air grew colder. There would be no more pool days, no more opportunities to comfortably spend the days outside in the sun. But fall brought new excitement of its own.

You could only hope you’d be tucked between these same arms by the fireplace come winter.

[girlkisser13]

taste

"well, i heard you're back together and if that's true" "you'll just have to taste me when he's kissin' you"

pairings: theodore nott x slytherin afab!reader

warnings/tags: cheating.

summary: it just supposed to be a situationship.

the summer had been a whirlwind of emotions, sneaky rendezvous, and stolen kisses. it was a memory now, fading with the warmth of the sun as autumn crept in, the cool breeze blowing through the stone corridors of hogwarts. but as the leaves turned golden and red, and the castle filled once more with the chatter of students returning for the new school year, one thing remained vivid and sharp in your mind: theodore nott.

you had spent almost every day with him over the summer, your bodies tangled together in the sweltering heat, sharing secrets and laughter under the stars. he had been everything you never thought he could be— gentle, sweet, and completely yours. at least, that’s what it had felt like. the outside world didn’t matter when you were together. it was just the two of you, and nothing else seemed real.

but now that you were back at hogwarts, everything was different. the castle walls that had once seemed so familiar now felt confining, oppressive. it didn’t help that theo had slipped back into his old life as if the summer had never happened. as if you had never happened.

you watched from the shadows as he walked through the great hall, his arm draped casually over pansy parkinson’s shoulders. she was laughing at something he’d said, her dark eyes shining with adoration as she looked up at him. and theo… he looked every bit the part of the perfect boyfriend. he was smiling down at her, his fingers playing with a strand of her hair as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

you swallowed hard, turning away from the sight, your stomach twisting with something you refused to call jealousy. you had known this would happen. He had warned you. when school started again, he would go back to his life with pansy, his girlfriend, the girl everyone expected him to be with.

but knowing it and seeing it were two different things.

you tried to avoid him as much as possible, keeping to the back of the classrooms, sitting far from the slytherin table in the great hall. you even skipped out on the first few gatherings in the common room, not wanting to see him with her, not wanting to see the way he looked at her with those familiar eyes that had once only been on you.

but, of course, you couldn’t avoid him forever.

it was during potions that it happened. professor snape was droning on about the properties of some obscure ingredient when theo slipped into the seat beside you, his presence sending a jolt of electricity through your body. you kept your eyes on your cauldron, refusing to acknowledge him, but you could feel his gaze burning into the side of your face.

"are you just going to ignore me all year?" he asked, his voice low, barely a whisper.

you clenched your jaw, your hands trembling as you stirred the potion in front of you. "what do you want, theo?"

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i just wanted to talk. you’ve been avoiding me."

you finally turned to look at him, your eyes narrowing. "can you blame me? you’ve been glued to pansy’s side since we got back."

his eyes softened, and for a moment, he looked like the boy you’d spent the summer with, the one who had held you close and whispered sweet nothings in your ear. "you know why i have to."

you bit back the retort that sprang to your lips, knowing it would do no good. you did know why. you knew all the reasons he had to be with her, to keep up appearances, to play the part of the dutiful boyfriend. but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

"whatever, theo. it doesn’t matter." you turned back to your potion, ignoring the way your heart clenched in your chest.

he reached out, his hand brushing against yours, and you almost pulled away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. "it does matter," he whispered, his voice strained. "you matter."

you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry. "if i mattered, you wouldn’t be with her."

there was silence, and then, "it’s not that simple."

you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "it never is, is it?"

snape’s voice cut through the tension, snapping at someone across the room, and you took the opportunity to pull your hand away, focusing on the potion in front of you. you didn’t look at theo again for the rest of the class, and when the bell rang, you were the first to leave, not even waiting to clean up your station.

you needed space. space to breathe, to think, to forget the way his touch had sent shivers down your spine, the way his words had made your heart ache.

but space was hard to come by at hogwarts, and avoiding theo became even more difficult as the weeks went on. you’d catch glimpses of him in the corridors, his hand entwined with pansy’s, his lips pressing soft kisses to her temple. it was like a knife to the heart every time, but you kept your head down, kept to yourself, and tried to focus on anything other than the boy who had stolen your summer and then shattered it.

it wasn’t until a hogsmeade weekend that things came to a head.

you were browsing through the shelves of honeydukes, looking for something to satisfy your sweet tooth, when you saw them. theo and pansy were at the counter, pansy laughing as theo tried to haggle with the shopkeeper over the price of a box of chocolates. you rolled your eyes, turning away from the sight, but not before you saw him glance over at you, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment.

you could see the guilt there, the regret, and it made your blood boil. how dare he look at you like that, like he was sorry for something he had done to you, like he hadn’t been the one to walk away?

you grabbed a handful of sweets and marched up to the counter, slapping them down beside theo’s chocolates. pansy turned to look at you, her eyes narrowing as she recognized you.

"well, well, if it isn’t the little lost lamb," she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. "what are you doing here, all alone?"

you forced a smile, ignoring the way theo tensed beside her. "just enjoying a bit of freedom, pansy. not everyone needs a boyfriend to hold their hand everywhere they go."

her eyes flashed, and you knew you had struck a nerve. she had always been possessive of theo, even before they had started dating. it was one of the things that had made sneaking around with him so dangerous— and so thrilling.

"maybe not, but at least i have one," she shot back, her lips curving into a smirk. she glanced at theo, her fingers curling around his arm. "right, darling?"

you had to hand it to her; she knew how to play the game. but so did you.

you leaned in closer, your eyes locked on hers as you dropped your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "you might want to check your boyfriend’s lips before you kiss him next time, pansy. he seems to have a thing for my strawberry lip gloss."

her face went pale, her eyes widening as she turned to look at theo, who was staring at you with something like horror in his eyes. she blinked, confusion and anger warring on her face as she looked back at you.

"what the hell are you talking about?" she snapped, her voice wavering.

you shrugged, stepping back and slipping a few sickles onto the counter for your sweets. "just a friendly piece of advice."

and with that, you turned on your heel and walked out of the shop, your heart pounding in your chest, a sick sense of satisfaction swirling in your stomach. you knew you had probably just signed your own death warrant, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

it was time theo made a choice.

[alcoholfreenayeon]

yow what abt twice mtls? confess first, fall in love, get jealous, fall out of love. great jeongyeon hc btw

Twice most to least likely: Get jealous

A/N: I feel some of these ended up sounding more yandere than jealous🙂‍↕️ but hopefully that’s just me😭hope you guys like it

Sana

She’s a huge flirt, she likes the way she can get people to be infatuated with her plus she likes to play hard to get.

Because of this she’s not used to people seeing her as a second choice so when she sees her partner having a good time with someone else when she’s available or even when she isn’t, it makes her feel strange.

It’s uncharted territory for her and she feels possessive immediately. After all what does the other person possess that Sana doesn’t. Why isn’t her partner yearning for her every moment instead of having a good time without her…

Nayeon

You’ll find Nayeon staring daggers at you with or without a polite smile. It’s really not a fun sight to witness because you just know you are in so much trouble later.

Nayeon feels very possessive of you. She’s someone who needs a lot of reassurance so you being clingy with anyone other than her doesn’t bode well with her.

Though she ends up feeling a bit silly after some time thinking for being so possessive she can’t help it, she wants you for herself and only herself.

Mina

Mina is a big introvert and she likes to stay indoors alot and keep to herself. But she knows she can’t really force you to do the same.

Nevertheless, she secretly wishes you would be that way. She’d prefer if she could have you all to herself. If it’s only you and her, all day everyday,

She feels sometimes she’s not good enough and that might make you drawn to others and hence gets her guard up immediately when she sees you being close with someone she doesn’t know.

Momo

You were happily chatting with your friend while waiting for Momo. You had known her for a long time, you didn’t take much notice of it when while laughing at a joke, she put her hand on your arm.

Soon enough, her instincts began to scream for danger and upon looking around, she spotted Momo a few meters away, glaring at both of you. “Is that your girlfriend?”…..

The journey back home was quiet. You realized how that might have looked out of context and were fearing Momo saw it differently. She was quiet though. “Everything ok baby?”, you ask her.

“Yes. But you need to sleep early and rest well”, she replies. “Huh? Why do I need extra rest?”, you question. “Well the couch isn’t very comfortable to sleep on is it”, she answers, unbothered, as she looks into the rearview mirror and applies her lipstick.

Chaeyoung

Chaeyoung and you were surprised to run into your ex at the mall. It was a bit awkward for the three of you but luckily there was no violence.

She hated how you and your ex became awkward because for her that meant you both saw each other and intentionally or unintentionally reflected back on the time you both were together.

She hated when while leaving, you both shared an inside joke which she didn’t know. Chaeyoung knew it’s just how these things go but that didn’t make her blood boil any less.

Tzuyu

Tzuyu is observant, she doesn’t always speak out, never mind her speaking her mind.

So when she was looking at your Instagram and spotted old posts of you and your ex, it just made her quite upset.

But she also knew it was the past yet she also thought you could have deleted it. After all wasn’t the ex was no longer part of your life.

Dahyun

Dahyun was watching you talk with the party’s host. It was normal. The two of you seemed to be getting along well.

She was standing a few feet away, getting something to drink when she suddenly heard the host make a suggestive flirty comment towards you. You didn’t realize it and just laughed along,

Dahyun though, gritted her teeth, it’s annoying that you always are so oblivious to these things. She’s gonna scold you for that later, as for the host…well, it’s a good thing her nails felt sharp right now.

Jihyo

Jihyo knows her worth and she knows you know it too. So she’s never really worried about someone else stealing you away.

But after watching some dramas, she got a bit influenced by them and began to worry that she didn’t like you as much as she thought or wanted because why wouldn’t she ever feel jealous. It was normal for couples to feel jealous at some point right?

And when she asked you to try and flirt with a cashier because she wanted to test something, you definitely felt it was a test. It took a lot of convincing from her and a promise that you wouldn’t get in trouble. Reluctantly you did it but when the cashier actually ended up giving you her number. Jihyo took your hand and dragged you out of the store without even buying anything. You were in big trouble.

Jeongyeon

Jeongyeon never has any real reason to doubt you. She knows you both love each other very much.

Of course, it’s inevitable that at some point either of you would get approached by someone else. It won’t be your or her fault if that happens.

But that’s easier to think when it hasn’t happened. When a fellow idol told Jeongyeon that she was lucky to have you and she should be careful you could get stolen. Though Jeongyeon was polite, her glare she ended up shooting at them later would have scared them silly.

[zaynes-nieve]

Zayne Confirmed Lore

Anything confirmed by the developers, including any accounts or information within the game! (I will update you as the game continues, and I appreciate any info I can get from you all as well!!!!)

Tender Moments | Memoria | Bond | Devs/Offical/Messages/Calls | Main Story | Annecdotes

Basic Info:

Zayne's Birthday is September 5th | About Him

Other Names: Rei (JP), Lee See-Oen (KR) and Li Shen (CN)

Zayne's Constellation sign is a Virgo (like me)| About Him

Zayne is 6'1 | About Him

Zayne's age is 27 | About Him

Zayne is the Chief Cardiac Surgeon at Akso Hospital | About Him

Zayne's evol is Ice | About Him

Daily Life and a good chunk of the lore

Zayne is a workaholic, and he likes it | Gentle Twilight/About Him

He is good at snowboarding! | Everlasting Snowdrop/About Him

He knows how to peel an apple in one go | Spring Remnants/About Him

He is good at drawing (those anatomical diagrams, ftw!!!) | Suprise Encounter/About Him

He has a sweet tooth (like me) | Nostalgic Sweetness/About Him

He gets toothaches (unlike me) | Nostalgic Sweetness/About Him

He is a terrible patient (Strict against others, indulgent to his own whims) | Nostalgic Sweetness/About Him

Zayne is a teetotaler (a person who never drinks alcohol) | Drunken Intimacy/About Him

He is good at pool but is a strict teacher | Exclusive Tutorial/About Him

His Parents are also Doctors and work with Doctors without Borders overseas | Eternal Attachment/About Him

He sends them a message on his birthday each year, telling them he is just fine! | Eternal Attachment/About Him

Zayne has a hard time controlling his Evol | Main Story 4-10/Never Ending Winter ch.4

Starcatcher Awardee (2046) | Main Story 4-5

Linde Award Winner (Year 2046) | Main Story 4-5 / Never Ending Winter ch.10? Last chapter mention

His patients all are obedient (terrified) of him | A Pure White Heart ch. 3

Dr. Zayne and Dawnbreaker see each other in their dreams | Gonna be pulling from a lot of things, so give me a moment for this one 😭 (Never Ending Winter Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.4) (Ngl Dawnbreaker Might Need his own section....or Page)

He has a pet squirrel named after the medication, Clopidogrel! | Feed the Squirrel/Message

It appears Zayne also frequently volunteers to assist in medical relief for disasters or joins the medical teams assisting hunters fighting wanders in high-frequency zones | Dawn's Shadows, Foreign Aid/Video Call, Hidden Motive, Medical Rescue

He is quick to forgo his well-being to save others in dangerous situations. He truly puts his own duty as a doctor above everything else.| Medical Rescue, Neon Night

His Past:

Zayne was one smart cookie and skipped several years! But because he was so young and his classmates were not. He had a hard time making friends | Delicacy/About Him

When he was in medical school, he visited a barbeque stall a lot | Delicacy/About Him

He has a good tolerance for pain😭and he gets injured a lot, leaving many scars | Medical Rescue/About Him

Dr. Zayne was in the 35th Cohort of the Skyhaven Medical School in a PhD Program | Never Ending Winter ch.1

He was an intern under Dr. William (took him under his wing) | Never Ending Winter ch.1

It's implied he had to kill William after those black crystals seemed to be turning Dr.William into a Wanderer (Do we consider this confirmed enough?) | Never Ending Winter ch. 6

He Plays Tennis (and won a prize!) | Tennis Game/Messages

His Likes:

He really hates carrots!!! | A Frozen Promise/About Him

He visits medical museums to relax, or he will go look out at the river | Heart Within Reach/About Him

Our Story 💙❄️☃️

He gave us a little snow seal when we were children (we thought it was a snowball) | A Frozen Promise/About Him

After seeing our name on the volunteer list for the Frontlines, he follows us. Hidden Motive/Insta Acc.

He is our Primary Doctor!!! (we're not gonna talk about the ethics of this LMFAO) | Main Story 1-8/About Him

Zayne said he melted an "old" popsicle (our popsicles at this time) for us when we were kids | Nostalgic Sweetness/About Him

Our Grandmother left us a letter with Zayne, and he seems to know more than he is letting on | Main Story 4-7 (I'll double check this one)

We voted for him in the Patient's Favorite Doctor poll on Asko's official account (He also won) | A Vote/Message

HE USES US AS HIS WALLPAPER | Screen Saver/Message

Zayne is not above bribery (whether it is us or his patients) | I Miss You/Message

We gave daffodils to Zayne! (they're garlic) | Gardening/Message

Dawnbreaker

(Work in Progress)

Please look at Zayne's third anecdote, the newest five-star (the free Sept 30th one), The Birthday one, and about a million Tumblr posts because this likely won't be finished anytime soon.

Pls hit me up with any more information and where it's from!!