#type: angst

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

you know a fic is good when it has this

[guppiechuu]

baby, baby, baby 𓂃🧸۶ৎ ˚ʚɞ˚ l.h.

exboyf idol!heeseung x youngmom!reader

length: 12.1k

contains: angst, hurt/comfort, abandonment issues, second chances, gaining back trust, ot7 hangouts, lots of teasing (of reader and heeseung), flirting, slow burn, co-parenting, mild explicit language, therapist jungwon, happy ending

warnings: none really... mentions of young single mom and absent father

synopsis: you never planned on seeing Heeseung again, let alone with another man's child on your hip. but when a run-in at the grocery store turns into an evening at your messy, toy-strewn apartment, you're forced to face everything you left unsaid. you're not the same girl he left behind all those years ago, and he's not the same guy that did the leaving. so where does that leave you now?

the question: how much are you willing to bet on second chances? the answer: everything.

an: finally posting this monster oh my god. this was meant to be a <1k word oneshot, but turned into a full-on fic. excuse me and my indulgences, i just have daddy issues and am in love with lee heeseung. 

an 06.02: i edited this a ton and added like 1000 words cuz i needed more hehe so enjoy!

——

You cursed under your breath as your shopping bags began to slip through your fingers. From your hip, Hana fussed unhappily, tiny hands clawing at your face as you struggled to adjust your grip on her.

“S’cuse me,” A woman said, giving you an annoyed glance as she stepped around you. The others behind you made sounds of frustration as you struggled to wrangle your babbling child and groceries out of the store’s entrance.

“Would you mind getting out of the way?” A man asked impatiently as one of your bags slipped.

“I’m sorry,” You said, face burning with embarrassment.

Hana began to cry, her tiny body impossibly strong as she twisted in your arms, trying to escape your grasp.

“Jesus Christ,” He muttered, pushing past you.

You bit your lip, hair falling in your face to hide the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Everything was so hard. Ever since your ex had moved out, you’d had no one to help you.

No one to stay up with Hana when she was fussy, no one to entertain her so you could sneak a quick shower in, no one to get groceries while you washed, and fed, and tended to her.

Your parents were a state away, your friends busy with work or travel—none with kids of their own. No one who understood what you were going through. Standing in the doorway of the grocery store, you felt, for the first time since Hana's father left, the true gravity of how alone you both were.

Another exasperated sigh came from behind you as Hana began to cry in earnest, her shrill voice piercing the air of the store.

“Should’ve left her at home with dad,” An older woman said, tsking as she stepped around you. “New moms these days, thinking they can do it all on their own. That kind of attitude kills marriages, you know."

You opened your mouth to defend yourself—to tell her that you couldn't kill a marriage that didn't exist, to even just curse back at her—when the paper bag you’d managed to hold onto split open, the contents spilling out onto the floor.

“For fuck’s sake,” A man said, shoving past you. His shoulder caught yours, knocking you off balance.

Hana’s weight threw you off-kilter, and you stumbled to the ground, holding her tiny wriggling body to your chest.

You wanted to cry.

Beside you, someone stooped to the ground, hastily grabbing the groceries that had fallen out of your bag. You looked up, the apology already forming on your mouth. As your eyes landed on them, the words died in your mouth. 

Heeseung.

Your heart skipped. 

He didn’t say anything as he gathered the rest of your things, giving you a hand up. His eyes were glued to the squirming toddler in your arms. 

With your groceries collected, you were able to step to the side, Heeseung’s hand still on your arm. The customers who’d gathered behind you filed past, one man glaring at you as he did. 

“Finally,” He muttered. 

Heeseung’s head snapped in his direction. “Fuck off,” He shot back. Then, looking from Hana to you, he chuckled nervously. “Sorry.”

You were speechless.

How long had it been since you’d seen him? Three years? Three years since he boarded the jet that had carried him out of your life forever. 

You remembered it like it was yesterday—ENHYPEN was going on tour, he wasn't sure when he'd be back, or when he'd have time for you again. The group had just started to take off. This was the big break, he’d said. The one that would start the rest of his life.

Going with him was out of the question. Long distance was brutal. Fans were possessive of their favorite members, and a girlfriend was a risk that management couldn't afford. It took all but a few hours for him to be cut from your life. Gone. Erased. Entirely. 

And now, here he was. Lee Heeseung, the great heartbreak of your life, standing in the middle of your friendly neighborhood grocery store, eyes darting back and forth between you and the one-year-old clinging to your hip. 

Hana made a noise, reaching a hand out at him curiously. He glanced at her, his expression softening. He smiled as he leaned forward, cooing gently while she fiddled with the earring that dangled from his ear.

Your chest tightened.

“Here,” He said, taking the bags from your hands. “Where did you park?”

——

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Heeseung said quietly as he put the last of your things into your car.

He looked just as you remembered him—tall, handsome, soft-faced, and even softer-voiced. He carried a bag of his own, full of items that sent you back to your school days with him—glossy packages of instant ramen, cling-wrapped kimbap, and those energy drinks he always liked.

You tore your eyes from them, trying to shake the memories of late nights in his dorm from your mind.

“No,” You said, meeting his eyes. God, his eyes. Just as deep and intense as you remembered them. “I should be thanking you. Back there,” You gestured awkwardly, “I was… It’s been a long day.”

His eyes darted to Hana again. You could practically see the question forming on his lips, but he was still the Heeseung you knew, far too polite to outright ask.

“Hana,” You said, smiling at the pink-faced toddler in your backseat. "She's one," You added quickly, watching for his reaction.

He nodded, his expression conflicted, like he was working through his thoughts. “I didn’t know…” He said slowly, looking back at you.

“I know. I… didn’t want you to,” You admitted. “You had a lot going on."

His face dropped. “Y/n, I want you to know, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” You said simply, looking down. “You had a life to live. Dreams to chase.” You smiled at him, genuine, although something deep in your heart had begun to ache, starting the moment you’d locked eyes with him. “I was always proud of you for going."

“I shouldn’t have left like that. I know you wanted me to go, and I’m glad I did, but I…” His fingers toyed with the strings of his bag nervously. “…I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”

You shook your head, pushing the memories away. “Don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge.”

From the car, Hana began to cry again. It was well past her dinnertime, which meant she’d be inconsolable until you got her home and into her high chair, which was… still broken.

You bit back a curse, remembering that you’d needed to run to the store to replace it today. A week of trying to feed her without it had proven nearly impossible. Especially now that you were alone.

You turned back to Heeseung, trying not to feel disappointed that reality was sweeping you two apart again. What was that phrase? Right person, wrong time? Well, this was two for two.

“Anyways," You said. "Thank you. Seriously. I was losing it in there.”

“You headed home now?” He asked, looking between you, as if trying to keep the conversation going. Hanna was bawling, fists clenched angrily.

You nodded, pulling a snack pack from your bag and tearing it open, hoping it’d be enough to satiate her until you got home. If you could get her fed, maybe you’d have time to take care of all the other things that were piled on your to-do list.

There were dishes waiting for you, and sticky counters, and laundry. So much laundry. The light in your room had gone out and needed replacing, but you barely had enough time to sleep there, let alone perform a maintenance job on it.

You sighed out a tired laugh, rubbing your face with your hand. “Um, yeah. She needs to be fed and put to sleep, and there’s some housework stuff. You know, never a boring day,” You joked half-heartedly.

Heeseung hummed. Then, hesitantly, asked, "Where’s her dad?”

The question knocked the wind out of you.

He gazed at you curiously, a hint of concern in his eyes. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably. This was the one thing you didn’t want coming up.

The baby? Sure. Your embarrassing moment in the store? Fine. Even the state of your hair and clothes, covered in stains and baby powder and spit-up, whatever.

But the fact that you were alone, that the person you’d chosen to father your child was nowhere to be found, that stung in the back of your throat. Nothing had changed. You were still the one being left behind. 

Heeseung read the look on your face. “Oh,” He said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” You cut him off, not sure if you could take the awkwardness of this conversation any longer. “But, yeah, I should go. I have… a lot to do at home. Everything’s on her schedule these days.”

“Can I help?”

You felt your breath catch for a second time. “What?” You laughed nervously.

Heeseung nodded at your groceries and at the squawking baby in the back seat. “Can I help you? We’re on break. Been doing pretty much nothing but sitting around the house, gaming all day. I’ll come over.”

“Heeseung…” You started, images of your messy baby-proofed home springing to mind. As if he needed to see any more of the disheveled single mom life. “You don’t have to do that, really, you’ve helped enough—”

“Y/n, we've known each other for a long time. I can tell you’re up to your neck right now. I want to help,” He said earnestly. “Will you let me?”

You held your breath, searching his face for some clue as to what this meant for you two. Ten minutes ago, you had no idea he was even back home. And now... he was asking for a step back into your life.

The inside of your cheek stung as you chewed on it. Finally, you sighed. "What the hell. Fine. Here, let me write down my address for you."

There, at the corners of his eyes, you caught it. That glimpse of joy in his expression, of hope. It confused the fuck out of you, but you just waved to him, climbing into your car and wondering what this meant for you.

——

It was practically impossible to walk across your house without tripping over one of the toys that littered the ground. There were dishes all over the kitchen counters, soup stains on the wall behind Hana’s highchair where she'd thrown her spoon, dirty laundry spilling out of your closet and across the floor.

Heeseung didn't seem to care at all.

In fact, the only thing he seemed to care about was your daughter. Her small fists, the rosy color of her cheeks, the bubbling sound of her laughter. You'd known Heeseung liked kids—you'd talked about having them once—but what you didn't know was how much they loved him.

He and Hana hit it off immediately, faster than you'd ever seen her take to anyone before.

Without a high chair, you’d been struggling to find the best way to keep her stationary long enough to feed her. Heeseung, however, only propped her on his leg, one hand around her stomach, the other holding her plastic pink Hello Kitty spoon.

It was like magic.

No crying, no spitting. No throwing or hitting. You watched in wonder as she sat there, hands resting on his forearm. The perfect little angel you always bragged about back in full swing.

Her preoccupation with him gave you a chance to not only make her dinner, but get her pajamas out and set up her bath for later. It was the most you'd managed to get done in a single hour in weeks.

Having Heeseung there wasn’t just helpful, it was... overwhelming. His presence filled your senses—the smell of his cologne intermingled with Hana's baby lotion, the feeling of him moving around the kitchen behind you, his voice mixing with her giggling nonsense in the living room.

It was intoxicating. It was dangerous. Because part of you wished—had always wished—desperately and against all reason, that this was what your everyday looked like.

You tried to dissuade that wish as you bent over the kitchen sink, elbow deep in soapy water and dirty dishes. Heeseung came in from the dining room, holding Hana's little bowl and matching spoon in one hand, her bib in the other.

"All done," He said, placing them on the counter. "Finished the whole thing." He sounded proud. It made your chest tighten.

"That girl sure can eat," You said lightly, grabbing the dishes and submerging them under water.

"Mmm, just like her mom, then," He joked.

Being there with him, joking with him, it stirred something in you. Something you'd spent a long time trying to forget. Your throat closed as he came up behind you, dry hand sliding over your soapy one.

"What—" You started, but he was already pulling the bowl from your hands, nudging you out of the way.

"I got this. Go finish up with her."

You pressed your lips into a thin line, ignoring the fluttering sensation that crawled up your throat. He was helping, just like he said he would. It was meaningless.

Still, the feeling of his palm on the back of your hand had your heart stuttering.

In the solitude of the bathroom, you rested your chin on your hand, watching as Hana dunked her plastic horse under the soapy bathwater. She held it up to you, babbling through the bubbles on your face.

You sighed. "What d'you think? Should we let him stick around?"

She slammed her horse back into the water with a squeal, sending water over the edge of the tub.

“Yeah,” You muttered, half to yourself. “That’s what I thought.”

You looked over at yourself in the mirror, leaned against the edge of the bathtub, your clothes and hair damp from your daughter’s splashing. So different from the girl that Heeseung had left behind all those years ago. The one he once swore he’d come back for.

You felt childish for even remembering that. Everything was different now. He could have anything he wanted. The girls around him were exactly what you weren’t, what you’d stopped being the moment you found out you were pregnant. They might have been your age, but they weren't saddled with motherhood.

You, on the other hand, would never be able to escape it again.

All anyone seemed to talk about with you was the baby. How old she was now, if she’d started talking yet, how well-behaved she was.

Even running into Heeseung, the first thing he looked at was her. It was like watching yourself fade from existence, all trace of what once made you you vanishing into nothingness. 

You weren’t fun. You weren’t spontaneous. Not anymore. Motherhood had drained you of all that youthful vitality Heeseung had once loved so much about you. You felt bland. Boring. Nothing to call your own except for your daughter, who seemed to be the most interesting part of your life nowadays. 

Looking at Hana now, you knew there was no way that Heeseung was going to make a permanent return to your life, not when there was a child involved.

And yet.

And yet, Heeseung was still around when you were done with Hana’s bath. 

He’d finished the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. He’d put the rest of your groceries away and tossed all of Hana’s toys back in their bin. He even took the trash out, and was offering to fix the light in your room when you stopped him.

“Are you gonna make me kick you out?” You said, hands on your hips.

The corners of his mouth quirked, his brow lifting. “You really are someone’s mom, huh?”

“Heeseung.”

“Come on,” He laughed, “I’m already here, I might as well fix it. You really want me to go?”

No, of course you didn’t. Of course, you wanted him to stay and help you with your light, and fix your leaky shower head, and make your daughter laugh herself all the way to sleep.

Of course, you wanted him to find a million other things to help you with, and to let you keep imagining what life would be like if he were to be there. To really, truly be there.

What, were you supposed to say no to all that?

By the time the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Hana was dozing off in Heeseung’s arms, her cheek flat against his shoulder.

You watched from the kitchen doorway, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of them. He swayed slightly, bouncing up and down with a hand to her back.

No one held her like that. Not even her dad. He’d wanted almost nothing to do with her. The diapers, the crying, the mess. He’d decided enough was enough before she was even born. But Heeseung…

“She’s incredible,” He said, glancing back at you. His face was soft, shoulders relaxed. It looked almost like she was as comforting to him as he was to her, with her hand wrapped around the fabric of his shirt.

Your throat was tight. “She is. Takes after me, you know,” You joked, trying to ease the effect that this scene was having on you. Your face was warm.

He chuckled, pursing his lips as she stirred gently. After a moment, he said, “I can’t believe I didn’t know.”

You leaned against the doorframe. “It wasn’t something I wanted you to hear from someone else.”

“Yeah,” He said. “Still.”

Still.

He finally looked up at you, and you saw it—how much he was holding back. How hard this was hitting him, all at once. Sure, it had been a long time, but the emotions on his face were like a second language to you. You could read them in your sleep.

“I’m not asking for anything,” You said quickly, maybe too quickly. “I’m not—bringing you here because I want something from you.”

“I know,” He said. But he kept holding Hana anyway, and when you laid her down in her room for the night, he was still in the living room, waiting for you.

“You do all this on your own?” He asked, keeping his voice low.

“Every day.”

“You’re amazing,” He whispered.

“Thanks,” You laughed.

He followed you into the kitchen. “I always knew you’d be a good mom.”

The comment sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“What?”

“Yeah, didn’t I ever tell you that?”

You stared at him. “No.”

“I’m sure I did.”

“I think I’d remember if you did. So, no.”

He flashed that smile, the one that used to make you weak in the knees. Still made you weak in the knees. “Then I was an idiot.”

You scoffed, eyeing him skeptically. “Whatever. My house is a mess, and I have literally no social life. Look at me, I’m covered in baby food, and I’m not even the one who fed the baby.”

“Yeah, well,” He shrugged, that stupid smile on his face. “You make anything look good.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re making fun of me.”

He gasped. “What? No, I’m just a very supportive friend who happens to know that you manage to make everything look sexy, even being covered in baby food.”

Friend.

“Heeseung.” You used to be the love of my life. 

“What!” He grinned. “You’re the one who keeps blushing.”

“I am not blushing.”

He shook his head as he laughed, the sound light and pure. “I missed you. God, I missed you a lot.”

You tensed.

“That first year of tour was hell,” He reminisced, leaning back against your counter. “We hardly slept, or ate, or got any moments to ourselves. It was just go, go, go. All day, every day.” He glanced at you. “But being away from you was by far the worst part.”

“Whatever,” You said quietly. There was a lump in the back of your throat.

He hovered as you finished putting the dry dishes away in your cupboard. “It was hard without you there. You know, you’re the reason I debuted in the first place. Because you believed in me.”

Did you ever believe in me? You wanted to ask. Lingering resentment was seeping from the back of your mind, coloring those happy memories a shade darker. How was it so easy for you to leave me?

“It was hard looking out for everyone without you there,” He chuckled. “You always made that part easier. That’s how I know.” 

“Know what?” You said, eyes on the plates in your hands. 

“That you’d make a good mom. You were already halfway there with me.”

You froze. “Heeseung,” You said slowly, “Don’t.”

“What? I’m just saying—”

“No, you’re not. You’re flirting.”

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Is that illegal now?”

You stared at him. “We can’t do this.”

His smile faltered, just slightly. Enough that you knew he’d heard the part you didn’t say aloud: Not again. I can’t do this again.

“I’m not trying to mess anything up,” He said quietly.

“But you do, Heeseung. You walk in, and you smile, and she adores you, and then what? You go back to your life, and we’re left here pretending this never happened? I’ve been there, done that, okay? And I can’t— I won’t let it happen again.”

He opened his mouth, but no answer came.

“Look, I get it. You were gone for a long time. Being back home carries a lot of weight, I’m sure. But you can’t…” You looked at him, chest aching. “You can’t just come in here and make me feel like nothing’s changed when it has. I mean, look around. I have a kid now. I can’t— I’m not like you. Not anymore.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, a look of hurt flashing behind his eyes.  

You ran your hand over your hair anxiously. It was late, you were exhausted, and you were letting your emotions get the better of you. You knew you should stop talking and just send him home, but you couldn’t.

“You have your whole life ahead of you,” You said. “You get to pack up and travel the world, do whatever you want, meet whoever you want. I don’t. That ended for me the second I had her.”

“Y/n,” He frowned, but you cut him off.

“I thought…” Tears pricked behind your eyes. “I thought that maybe things would just be a little different. That I’d still get to—” You caught your breath, the weight of everything you’d gone through rising suddenly, knocking the breath from your lungs. “And then it ended all over again. When her dad left.” 

You saw the way his face hardened, a look you hadn’t seen in years. Hurt. Angry. Protective. 

“I’m alone, Heeseung,” You whispered. 

“That’s not true—”

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s not! You have me—”

“Then where were you!?”

His face fell. You didn’t want him to see you cry, but you were dangerously close. Being near him, seeing that god forsaken look in his eyes, like he was angry with himself, it killed you. 

“I didn’t know,” He said quietly. “If I had—”

“You would have, what? Cancelled your tour? Come racing home to help your ex with some other guy’s baby? That’s not true and you know it.” 

“I would have found a way to be there for you.”

“Really? You could have called. Once, even. You could have checked up on me, but you didn’t. You packed your things and you left. That’s all anyone ever does, is pack up and disappear.”

“Don’t, y/n. It’s not the same thing. I never would have left you with our kid like that,” He said seriously.

Our kid. The words seemed to burrow into your chest, curling up around the part of you that was still so angry, so hurt, so betrayed. 

“No,” You said bitterly, wiping your eyes roughly with your sleeve. “You just left me. Not as big a deal, right?”

He flinched, those big, sad eyes of his wincing painfully.

You knew it wasn’t fair. You knew you were being cruel now, prodding a wound that was clearly still open in both of you, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted, just once, for someone to tell you that you were worth fighting for, that the way he and Hana’s dad had both abandoned you wasn’t your fault. That you weren’t defective. Disposable. 

Heeseung held your gaze, brows creased. “I deserved that,” He finally said.

You looked away, jaw clenched. 

He took a step toward you, slow, like he was scared you might push him away. “You’re right, I did. I left. I let you believe that I didn’t care about you. I thought… walking away would make things easier. That it would hurt less, instead of dragging it out, making you wait for me. You had a life of your own waiting. I couldn’t do that to you,” He reasoned. “And look at you! You brought a kid into the world, y/n. You never needed me, or anyone else. You’re strong.” “I’m not,” You argued. 

“You are,” He said firmly. 

You shook your head, arms tightening around yourself. “I’m not strong. I’m surviving. That’s not the same thing.”

Heeseung didn’t argue this time. He gave you an apologetic look, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t mean to come here and upset you. I wanted… I really did want to help, y/n.”

“You have,” You said, not meeting his eyes. It was hard to speak without your voice shaking, and you didn’t want him to see you cry. 

His voice softened, gaze dropping to the floor. “I know I can’t change the past. And you don’t trust me. But we’re back home until the next album’s finished.”

Your chest tightened. So, he was sticking around. Great, you thought to yourself. Just what you needed on top of everything else you had going on. 

“If you need me, you can call me. You know that, right?”

You said nothing. Heeseung got his things and left, mumbling apologies as the door closed behind him. You had to catch your breath against the doorframe as the sound of his car faded down the street. 

Here you were again. Watching the door swing closed behind him, wishing you were brave enough to ask him to stay. 

That night, you went into Hana's room and curled up in the chair beside her crib. Looking at her—the soft fat of her cheeks, the way her tiny chest rose and fell so steadily without a care in the world—was the only thing that kept you from breaking down completely. 

You watched her silently, the occasional rogue tear slipping down your cheek. Three years worth of emotions had bubbled up to the surface, crashing over you like a tidal wave of memories and regret. The house was empty again. You were alone. 

For the first time, you confronted the hard truth you’d been trying to ignore: no one was coming to save you. You were on your own.

——

Heeseung must have looked upset, because the moment he got back to the dorm, the others were on him.

“Where were you?” Sunoo asked, looking up from his game.

Beside him, Jay, Sunghoon, and Jungwon were sprawled on the couch. Jake watched from the floor, stretched out on his stomach. Niki was curled up in the chair, half asleep. 

“Nowhere,” Heeseung mumbled, kicking his shoes off. 

“You look like shit,” Jay said bluntly.

“Thanks.” 

“I thought you were just stopping at the store?” Jake turned to look at Heeseung over his shoulder. “Geez, you really do look terrible.”

Jungwon looked at him curiously. “Are you okay?”

Heeseung’s mind was still spinning. He could barely form a coherent thought, let alone answer their questions. He brushed them off, wanting nothing more than to disappear into his room in solitude. 

But these were his group members, his best friends, and they always knew when something was wrong. They switched the game off and trailed after Heeseung as he made his way to his room, shoving his door open. It bounced against the wall loudly. 

Heeseung winced, dropping onto his mattress. His body felt worn, his mind foggy, like he’d spent all day on stage instead of laughing with you in your kitchen. He still couldn’t believe he’d spent the day with you. In fact, he could hardly believe anything about what had happened. 

There were no words to describe what Heeseung had felt, seeing you again for the first time. It was like every one of his senses dialed in on your figure crouched in the door, your hair falling over your shoulders. His throat had closed, his fingers curling into his palms by his side. 

His heart had nearly leapt out of his chest completely. 

And then, there was Hana. 

He hoped he didn’t look as surprised as he’d felt, but he knew the chances were small. You’d always been able to read his emotions. You’d been the one to ask him out, after all—sick and tired of how painfully obvious his feelings for you were. No one else had ever came close to understanding him the way you did, not even the guys.

You probably saw right through his easy attitude, straight to the heart of his reaction: seeing you with Hana had scared him shitless. 

He pressed a hand to his face. I’m never offering to go to the store for the others ever again, he thought hopelessly.

Jungwon appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. The others poked their heads out from behind, waiting for him to say something first. Jungwon might have been younger, but he was their leader, through and through. 

He always knew what each member needed in moments like these. For Heeseung, it was space. And time. Jungwon just stood there for a while, not saying anything. 

Heeseung’s voice was rough when he finally spoke. “I saw y/n.”

More silence. 

He hadn't talked about you in a long time, mostly because it brought his mood down every time someone so much as mentioned your name. Years later and he was still upset about the way you'd left things. 

And now he knew that you were, too.

“I ran into her at the store,” He continued. “Her bag had ripped so her stuff was everywhere, and people were getting pissed.” Fucking assholes. “I couldn’t just— turn the other way, pretend I didn’t know her.”

No one argued with that, but Heeseung still felt the back of his neck go red. 

"So I went up to her. I helped her grab her things. She..." He trailed off. "We went back to her's after." 

Jake shoulders dropped, looking relieved. "So, what's with the long face? Haven't you been dreaming about this since, like, we left?" 

“Yeah, I’m surprised you’re back here,” Jay smirked. “She didn’t want you to stay the night?”

"She has a kid." 

That shut them up. 

She has a kid. The words sounded foreign in Heeseung's ears. He still hadn't fully wrapped his head around it. The girl he’d been hung up on for years was a mom.

Jungwon’s eyebrows shot up. “Like.. has has?”

Heeseung nodded. “A little girl. Her name’s Hana.” 

“So that means she’s…”

“Single,” Heeseung said incredulously, falling backwards onto his mattress. The entire situation was mind boggling. “Hana’s dad isn’t around. Not sure why. All I know is that it was sudden. He just packed up one day and… left.” 

Just like I did, He thought bitterly. God, he’d made a number of mistakes throughout his life, but that had to be the worst of them all. 

“Damn,” Jungwon said under his breath. “That’s a lot.”

Sunghoon shifted his weight anxiously. “How did she seem?” 

Heeseung swallowed. “Tired. She looked so tired. And sad. I could see it in her eyes, even though she was trying not to show it.”

“She didn’t ask for anything?” Jake asked.

“No. She doesn’t want anything from me. She made that pretty clear.” Heeseung dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know what to do. I thought I’d moved on, or at least that I was done holding onto her. But seeing her like that…” His voice cracked, and he looked away. “It’s like everything I’ve been trying to forget just—came back all at once.”

Jungwon finally stepped into the room, going to sit beside Heeseung. The others trailed in after him. It was crowded with all of them there, but Heeseung was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude that they were with him. That he didn’t have to spend the night alone with his thoughts.

Like you were now. He thought of you alone in that house, working through the motions of your reunion by yourself. It made his chest ache.  

“Shouldn’t have left her,” He mumbled, mostly to himself. 

“Are you going to see her again?” 

“I don’t know,” He mumbled. “We argued. I think she doesn’t want to believe I could ever be there for her. That I’m just going to leave again.” His throat tightened. “I can’t blame her for feeling that way.”

“Are you?”

“I— no, I don’t want to. But she’s afraid to trust me. And I’m scared, too! What if she’s right? She’s always right. I don’t wanna cause her more trouble…” 

Now that he was talking, he couldn’t stop. The others listened intently, nodding along, humming sounds of understanding. 

“I’m scared that the more I try to get closer to her, the further I’m going to push her away. She has enough shit going on in her life right now. I don’t want to add to that. But I can’t just let her be. Not when I know she’s too proud to ask anyone else for help.” 

“No, not y/n.” Sunoo hid a laugh behind his hand. “That girl would rather die than rely on anyone else. She’s always preferred to figure it out on her own.”

“I know. I don’t want to fuck up her life anymore than I already have.” 

“Hey, at least you’re not the asshole who knocked her up,” Jay said lightly.

Heeseung bit his lip, suddenly worried he was going insane.

Worried because the smallest part of him almost wished that he was. He would have never left you alone. And… Well, he’d always liked the idea of you with his kids. He meant what he said earlier—if anyone was going to make a good parent, it was you. 

A baby would have killed his career for sure, but… he almost preferred that to the idea of you struggling through parenthood alone. 

“So what are you going to do?” Jungwon asked. 

“I don’t know,” Heeseung sighed, sitting up. “What if I try to be there for her, and I make things worse? What if she’s right not to trust me? I don’t want to—” He ran his hands through his hair anxiously. “I can’t hurt her again. I’d rather never see her again than have that happen.” 

Jungwon pursed his lips, thinking. “It is true that you’ll have to leave again when the next album is finished.”

The others nodded, murmuring in agreement.

“Tour life isn’t exactly fit for a kid.”

“There’s always the chance that people find out about you two.”

“You’d have to be apart for a long time.”

Jungwon nodded. “But… do you love her?”

Heeseung’s face went red. “What?”

“Quit acting embarrassed. We had to listen to you go on about her for a year straight after we left. I think you can tell us if you’re still in love with her.”

He pursed his lips and frowned, mulling the question over. Was he still in love with you? 

Who was he kidding, of course he was. How else could he explain the way the world seemed to blur when he caught sight of you in the store? How his body was moving to help you before he even had time to think about it?

Heeseung was in love with you. As in love with you as he was the day he left. Why else had he spent all day at your house doing chores, enjoying every minute? The way you moved around each other, the sound of Hana’s voice responding to yours, the way he could see pieces of you in her. God, he’d only known that girl for a day but he was already feeling protective of her.

Of both of you. 

He sighed. “Yes… I do. I am.” He pressed his thumb into his palm, where he’d brushed the back of your hand. “I really missed her,” He mumbled. “But I’m scared to mess everything up. Again.”

 “You’re not gonna do that,” Sunghoon said, leaning against the wall. 

“Yeah, come on. I’ve never seen you make the same mistake twice.”

“Thanks,” He muttered, still unable to shake his fears. 

“If you really love her, you’ll find a way to make it work,” Jungwon assured him. 

Hearing that brought a small amount of relief to Heeseung’s anxiety, but he still wasn’t convinced. “What if she doesn’t want to see me?” He asked quietly.

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “Honestly, you’re so dramatic. If she doesn’t want to see you, she’ll tell you. Did she?”

“No… not explicitly…” 

“Then you still have a chance. Don’t screw it up.” 

Heeseung chuckled lightly, feeling slightly better. “I’ll try not to.”

“Screw your feelings, we miss having her around,” Sunghoon joked. 

“Yeah, I wanna meet this kid,” Jake said eagerly. “If she’s anything like y/n, she’ll fit in just fine with us.”

Niki hummed in agreement. “Yeah, we never agreed to your break up.” 

“Mm. Very inconsiderate of you,” Jay said. 

Heeseung laughed, for real this time. He felt his chest untighten for the first time in hours, his shoulders dropping, his jaw unclenching. God, he was grateful for his friends. They were right. 

Heeseung had been losing his mind over what he should do when there was really only one option in front of him: to prove to you how serious he was about you. Whether or not you were able to fix things between you two, that didn’t matter to him. 

All he cared about was showing you that you could trust him. That you weren’t alone in this, no matter how long you’d spent believing otherwise. 

Seeing you today confirmed what he’d known the second he’d left all those years ago: you were the only one for him. And meeting Hana—feeling the warmth of her against his chest, smelling your perfume on her skin, noticing the way her lips curved up in the same shape that yours did—it was the final nail in the coffin. 

His life would never be complete without you in it, one-year-old and all.

——

Heeseung’s reappearance in your life didn’t happen immediately.

In fact, it was a few weeks before you heard from him again. Lost in the throes of trying to find a babysitter so that you could pick up an extra shift at work, his text was left buried in calls from your landlord and notices about upcoming bills.

Heeseung Are u busy this weekend? I have some overexcited friends who are anxious to meet that baby of yours.

It sat unanswered for a day. 

You didn’t know it, but every single one of the 24 hours that passed before you got back to Heeseung was like knives in his skin. The day dragged by, long and torturous, as he sank deeper and deeper into the belief that maybe he’d been wrong, and you didn’t want to hear from him after all. 

He was relieved when his phone buzzed on his desk, your name popping up on his screen for the first time in three years. 

Y/N Oh god.

Y/N Are u really gonna bring them over here??

Heeseung Not if you’re not okay with it.

Y/N It’s not that I’m not okay with it. it’s just… weird

Y/N Never thought I’d be introducing your group members to my kid.

Heeseung Definitely weird.

Heeseung Always figured they’d meet ours first but this works too.

Y/N Heeseung.

Heeseung What? Just saying.

Y/N 🙄

Heeseung I’ll be good. I promise. Saturday?

He chewed the edge of his nail as he watched his screen, heart racing at the base of his throat. Your text came in and he couldn’t help the smile that took over his face. 

Y/N Yeah right.

Y/N See you then.

You had precious little time to clean up before they got there. When you heard Heeseung’s knock at the door, you were part-way through clearing Hana’s things out of the living room. 

Sweaty, hair a mess, sticky toddler on your hip, you pulled the door open to a group of faces you hadn’t seen in years. 

The guys stood there for a second, taking you in. Sunoo was the first to break the silence, his face widening into a grin. “Wow,” he said, “Motherhood really does suit you.”

You rolled your eyes, your face warming as you shifted Hana on your hip. “Shut up, Sunoo.” 

Hana peeked out at them, fists clutching your shirt nervously. 

Jake’s eyes went wide as he crouched down, level with her. “Hi,” He said, his voice going soft. “You’re so cute, oh my god. Mind if we come in?”

Hana smiled shyly, burying her face in your shoulder.

“Sorry about the mess,” You said, stepping aside to let them in. “Can never seem to keep anything clean these days.”

“You should’ve called us,” Sunoo pouted. “We could’ve helped.”

“No way. You guys are busy enough as it is.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jay said. “You should see how these guys live”

“Oh, shut up, Jay. Your room is disgusting. I don’t know how you live in that filth.”

“My room is disgusting!? Should we talk about how you keep the living room—”

“Get out of the way!” Jungwon complained, pushing past them. 

Heeseung was the last to come in, messy-haired and bare-faced. He looked nervous, but his shoulders droppe when he caught sight of you.

He paused in the doorway. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah,” You said. “It’s fine. Just… don’t expect her to start doing tricks or anything.”

“Are you sure?” Sunghoon asked, peeking at Hana. “I heard kids can dance these days.”

“Please,” You scoffed. “She can barely get a spoon from her plate to her mouth.”

They laughed as they filed in, avoiding the toys that were scattered around the floor. For a moment, no one wanted to sit down. They crowded around you, pulling funny faces to make Hana laugh, reaching out to pinch her face. 

Heeseung hovered beside you, eyes flicking to yours. It felt good to have him close. You’d never had this many people in your house before, not since having Hana. His presence was steadying. Reassuring. 

You found yourself wanting to stick close to him as well. 

They followed you into the living room, pointing at the photos and finger-painting scribbles hung up on the walls. You noticed Heeseung from the corner of your eye, bending down to grab things from the floor as he went, tossing them into Hana’s toy chest the same way he had when he first came over. 

It was instinctual, that desire to help you, to take some of the load off your shoulders. Always had been. 

“How are you, y/n?” Jungwon asked, “Besides the cute baby and messy living room.”

“Um,” You sighed, “I’m… managing. Getting used to doing all this on my own. It’s hard but rewarding, too.” You smiled at Hana, pressing your lips to her head and breathing in the soft, sweet baby smell of her hair. “She makes it worth it.”

Your voice was easy, your face relaxed, but Heeseung could see the fatigue in your body. Your shoulders drooped, Hana’s weight sagging in your arms. 

Getting used to doing all this on my own. You’d never know how sad it made him to hear you say that. 

“I can’t imagine how tired you are,” Jake said, watching as Hana curled a hand around his finger.

You laughed lightly. “I definitely don’t sleep the way I used to. Or, at all, really,” You admitted. “You don’t even want to know how long it’s been since I’ve showered.” 

“I can see that,” Sunoo teased, gesturing at the myriad of stains across your shirt. “I like the baby food. It’s a good look on you.”

“Glad to know it’s working on you, jerk,” You said playfully. God, you missed having these guys around.  

“Do you want me to take her?” Heeseung asked. The question caught you by surprise. He seemed so easy about it, like it was something he did every day. “You can take a quick shower… if you want.”

“What? No way. You guys are friends, not my babysitters.”

“Not yet,�� Niki said, leaning down to coo at Hana’s face. 

“Seriously, we don’t mind,” Heeseung insisted.  

You bit your lip sheepishly. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely. We’re professionals.” Sunghoon said seriously. 

“I mean, we are terrible at music,” Jake added, “But picture books and stuffed animals? I think we got it.”

“Go,” Heeseung insisted softly. “We’re here. Let us help.”

You hesitated. It was such a small thing—showering, putting on a fresh t-shirt—but it felt huge. Like accepting their help would mean finally admitting just how worn out you were. 

There was also your protectiveness over Hana, too. You’d never left her with anyone but your parents before. It was why finding a babysitter had become such an ordeal—trusting anyone with your child took an incredible leap of faith.

But then you saw the look in Heeseung’s eyes. The hopeful, almost desperate need to do something for you. He held your gaze, steady, solid. 

As if in answer, Hana reached out for him, squirming away from your grasp. She’d always been good with faces, and he was wearing the same jacket he’d worn the first time he came over. She stretched towards the familiarity of his arms and you surrendered, allowing her to climb into them.

“She likes you,” Jungwon said, a big grin on his face. 

“Yeah,” Heeseung said, unable to hide the pride in his voice. “I like her, too.”

Seeing her in his arms again brought back the same feeling from before. The one that made you want to see Heeseung with your daughter all the time. 

They just looked so… at home together. Like Hana had known him since the start. You hated to admit it, but you were starting to wish that she had.

“All her toys are in there, and there’s snacks in the fridge if she gets fussy. If she gets really upset I’ve got a pacifier in her room—”

Heeseung nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking up at your rambling. “She’ll be great.”

You sighed. “Okay, but if she starts crying—”

“We’ve got it,” Jay reassured you.

Sunoo shot you a wink. “Go on, mama. We’ll look after her.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and slipped down the hall, feeling, for the first time in a long while, that you had people in your corner. It was a good feeling.

——

“She sorta looks like you, Heeseung.”

“Oh, stop teasing him. He’s not gonna let us come back with him next time.”

“You’re so full of it. They don’t look anything alike.”

“She’s got a real Shin Min-a look to her. Old school.”

“She looks like her mom,” Heeseung said, only half-listening to what his idiot friends were debating about. 

His attention was mainly on the tiny human balanced on his thighs, her hands tangling in his hair. She was a stout little thing, skin slipping under the slippery fabric of her shirt as he kept a firm grip on her. 

A Laker’s jersey. Your guys’ favorite team. 

He took a deep breath, trying to steady the emotions rising in him. Just being there—with Hana, with you—it was enough to make him crazy. He tried not to feel dizzy as Hana’s hands moved to his face.

“She missed you,” Jungwon said quietly, fidgeting with a plastic airplane in his lap. 

For a second, Heeseung thought he was talking about Hana, but no. He was talking about you.

Heeseung glanced at him. “You think so?”

“You should’ve seen the way she was looking at you when she opened the door.” 

Jay snickered at him, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Yeah, she was totally checking you out, man.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“It’s true,” Niki chimed in, tossing a stuffed rabbit at Sunghoon. “Don’t act like you didn’t notice.”

Heeseung just shook his head. “She’s just… It’s been a long time.”

Jay shook his head. “Nah, man. You’re still important to her.”

“It’s obvious,” Sunoo agreed. “If Jay noticed it, it’s real.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“Well, you’re not the most observant of people, are you?” He said, side-eyeing him.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. He hoped they were right.

——

The guys started coming around more often after that. They always insisted that they were restless at the dorm and liked having somewhere else to hang out, but you knew it was more than that. 

It became something of a tradition to have a big meal at yours at the end of the week, and as time passed, it became easier to rely on them. It felt good to have a kitchen full of noise, a table that wasn’t empty, a house that shook with laughter and music.

They’d bring bags of groceries over and cook these huge, chaotic dinners to share in your dining room. The kitchen was left a mess but they always cleaned up. 

Weeks went by and Heeseung stayed behind more and more often, tidying up the rest of the house with you, even helping to put Hana to bed. 

Despite your reservations, you liked having him there. You liked the way he’d come through your door unannounced, toting drinks for you and a snack for Hana in his bag. You liked the way he’d get up from the couch when he heard her fussing, and how the others teased him about it in front of you.

“Is that your baby now or what?” Jungwon would laugh, eyes flicking between you and Heeseung with that knowing look.

You’d turn red and Heeseung would just shake his head, smiling. 

Even in your hardest moments, he was still showing up for you. Providing you with the comfort and stability that you were trying so hard to give your daughter. You tried to remind yourself not to get too used to his support, but there was no denying it—it was easier to take care of Hana when there was someone taking care of you, too.

“I don’t know what to do,” You sighed, reaching down to pick her back up from her crib. Your phone was tucked between your cheek and your shoulder, Heeseung on the other end of the line. “I’ve tried everything. She just won’t settle.”

His voice came through rough and scratchy with sleep. It was late, and he probably should’ve been asleep hours ago, but you’d started calling each other. A lot. If he wasn’t there in person, he was on your speaker phone, talking to you and keeping Hana entertained. 

“Do you wanna try feeding her again?” He asked, yawning. 

“I’ve tried. She doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want anything.” You sighed as Hana let out another ear-piercing wail. Her face was red and blotchy from crying. It looked like another all-nighter for you. 

“Can you take her to your bed? I think she just doesn’t like being away from you.”

That was certainly true. Hana was getting clingier and clingier these days, spoiled by all her uncles constantly wanting to hold her. 

“I can’t, I’m scared that I’ll fall asleep,” You said. 

Countless horror stories about parents falling asleep with their babies in their bed had left you anxious to bring her to yours. It was moments like this that you wished her dad was there—that you had someone to take turns staying up with.

“I’ll let you go,” You sighed. “I’m gonna try walking her around the house or something, maybe another bath. Sleep well, okay?”

He hummed as you ended the call, the vibration tickling your ear through the phone. Almost like he was there with you. At least one of you would be able to get some sleep, you thought enviously as you pulled Hana to your chest. 

Only, ten minutes later there was a knock at your door. 

“Heeseung?” You stared at the man in your doorway. Hana scratched at your face as she wailed up at you. “Are you crazy? What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, smiling as he stepped over the threshold. “Wanted to make sure she was okay,” He said, as if that was a reasonable explanation for showing up at your house at 2 a.m.

“She’s fine,” You said, half-stunned as you shut the door behind him. 

Hana let out a disgruntled whine at not having your attention. You raised a brow at her, shaking your head. “You’re such a little drama queen. Look, you’re not even upset anymore.” 

It was true. Hana’s cries had slowed to a sniffle as she gazed at Heeseung with wide, glossy eyes. He held a hand out for her to grab onto.

“Had to make sure mom was okay, too,” He said quietly, thumb brushing over her knuckles.

You looked up at him, your chest tightening. His hair was a mess, poking out from under the hood of his sweatshirt. A rush of emotion washed over you at the sight of him, at the dark circles under his eyes, the tired smile on his mouth. The way he was trying—really trying—to be there for you both.

“You didn’t have to,” You mumbled, averting your eyes. 

God, even in his most sleep-deprived state he was gorgeous. Eyes burning into yours in the low light. His body hummed with that quiet power that had drawn you to him in the first place—that confidence, that steadfastness. How he seemed perfectly at ease no matter where he was or what he was feeling inside. 

Standing next to him, you felt slightly less exhausted. Like simply being around him was enough to energize you. 

“I know,” He said softly, “But I wanted to.” 

He stepped forward, hands slipping under Hana’s arms with a tenderness that made your heart sting. She let out a giggle as he lifted her up, hands smacking against his chest as he settled her against him.

“She’s always happier with you,” You said quietly. It wasn’t a complaint. Hana really was calmer around Heeseung, and that brought you a sense of peace that you weren’t quite sure how to explain. 

He looked at you, his expression softening. “She’s happier when you’re okay,” He murmured. “Come on, let’s try this again.”

Despite his best efforts, Hana was still unhappy in her crib. She clung to his arm as he tried to place her down, voice going up several octaves. You winced at the volume, grateful that you didn’t share walls with your neighbors. They’d have lost their patience hours ago. 

Heeseung didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t even flinch as she shrieked, clawing at his hands in frustration. He just scooped her back up, resting her against his shoulder and muttering reassurances over her cries. 

You tried for an entire hour—walking her around the house, reading her favorite books and making sure to do all the funny voices, swaddling and unswaddling her, over and over and over. The best luck you had was in your room, like Heeseung had suggested, which both heartened and annoyed you at the same time. 

How were you supposed to deny a man with such good instincts? 

“You are so dramatic.” You shook your head as Hana hiccupped from your pillow, smiling like she’d never been crying in the first place. 

“I wonder where she gets it,” Heeseung said lightly, sitting down on the other side of her. 

You tried to stifle a yawn as Hana stretched out, both of your eyes drooping. 

Heeseung couldn’t help but smile at the both of you. He’d never met your ex—hadn’t even seen a picture—but he didn’t need to know that Hana hardly took after him.

 Her smile, her mannerisms, that was all you. She was yours, through and through. 

“Come here,” He said, pulling Hana closer to him to make space for you to lay next to her. 

“I’ll fall asleep,” You protested. 

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

Anyone else, and you would have said no. Anyone but him, and you’d have insisted they leave, resigning yourself to another brutal night of no sleep. 

But it was Heeseung. He propped himself up on one elbow, his arm curved over Hana’s head. 

You sighed in resignation as you settled in on the other side of her, your hand resting over her stomach gently. His hand came down to brush the hair away from your face. His fingers were soft against your temple, the same gentle touch that you used to love so much. 

Anyone else and you would have turned them away, but it was Heeseung, and he watched the two of you sleeping like you were the most precious things to him in the world. 

——

When you woke the next morning, the sun was peeking through your window, filtering through your blinds and washing your room in soft, white light. 

In front of you, Hana was still sound asleep, her fists clenched by her head. On the other side of her, Heeseung was there. Still on his side, shoulders curved inwards protectively. His arm was still stretched out above you both, his hand resting gently against your hair. He’d fallen asleep that way, holding you both like you were his to care for. His to protect. 

And waking up that morning, you realized that maybe you were. Maybe you wanted to be. You slipped out from under his hand, trying not to disturb either of them as you rolled the ache out of your shoulders. 

You padded into your kitchen, warm light spilling across the floor. Leaning against the counter, you finally admitted to yourself that you had a problem. 

Heeseung was doing it. He was making you believe.

You let out a breath. 

The nightly calls, the small gestures, the way Heeseung was there for you, it was working. Are you really falling for this? You thought stubbornly, trying to reason your way out of the way you felt about him. How much of it was real, anyways? And how much had you made up in your desire to have him close? Your mind screamed at you not to trust any of it. 

He was an idea. You didn’t need him. 

But you wanted him so bad. 

Your heart warred against this truth, desperate for something—anything—to convince yourself otherwise. But it wasn’t easy to do. The life he’d painted around you in just under a month was like something out of a dream. One you’d had before the baby, before the breakup, when you still felt like dreams like this had merit.

It was everything you’d ever wanted, and that made you suspicious. What reason did the universe have for giving this to you? When it had been so intent on taking things away? 

Your thoughts were interrupted as Hana came crawling into the kitchen, slapping her hands on the cool floor. Heeseung trailed in after, looking exceptionally tired with his hair sticking up in awkward places. He yawned, scooping Hana up with practiced ease and perching her against his chest. 

“Hey,” He said, bringing her over to you. “Did you sleep well?”

You took her grabbing hand in yours, kissing a good-morning into her hair. “Thanks to you. You’re so good with her,” You said, trying to keep your voice even. Your stomach was fluttering nervously. “I don’t know how you do it.” 

He shrugged, giving her a little bounce that sent her squealing with laughter. “It’s easy. She’s a charmer. Just like her mom.”

Your heart stuttered, and you looked away, fighting the stubborn burn in your chest. Heeseung saw it, though. He always saw it.

“I’m glad I came, y/n. Seriously. I slept great.”

“You slept terribly.”

“Alright, fine, I slept pretty badly, but it was worth it,” He insisted. “And I’d do it again. And again, and again, and again,” He laughed, nuzzling his face into her chest. “Can the guys come over today? Unless you want the day to yourself… I know we’ve been over a lot. I can go home if you want.”

Words could not describe how badly you wanted him to stay. “Yeah, of course. I like having you guys around.”

I like having you around, is what you should have said, but you didn’t have to say it for Heeseung to know what you meant. The smile on his face told you that he understood completely. 

It was already the beginning of the end for you when the other members came over and started teasing you both mercilessly. Weeks of hanging out at yours had made them bold—and it was clear that they wanted you to address what was going on between the two of you.

“Should we start packing your room up?” Sunoo asked, side-eyeing you both as he came in.

“You might as well just move in, bro,” Jay said, clapping his hand on Heeseung’s back.

You scoffed. “Yeah right, not until he starts paying rent.”

Jay smirked. “He’d do it.” 

“Shut up,” Heeseung mumbled, rolling his eyes.

Their banter might have embarrassed you once, but it felt natural now. The way they spilled into your living room, fighting over who got to hold Hana and which toys she wanted to play with more more—it was hard not to feel like this was how it had always been. 

You clung to whatever thin resolve you had left as you watched them all with your daughter. No matter how much you tried not to, your gaze always landed back on Heeseung. The way he lifted Hana into the air, blowing raspberries into her stomach until she was screeching with laughter. The way he handed her off to someone else and insisted on helping you get her lunch ready. 

Things between you and Heeseung became… different. 

It didn’t fluster you as much when the others teased you for being attached at the hip anymore. And you didn’t mind when he’d sit with his arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers brushing the back of your neck.

For every inch you gave, he seemed to take a mile. Eventually, it became commonplace for him to collapse on the couch right next to you, thigh brushing yours, arm stretched behind your shoulders.

The others stopped asking if Heeseung was leaving with them. They knew he’d choose to stay with you. 

“Are you just gonna stand there staring at me all night?” You asked, your back turned as you put your dinner leftovers into the fridge. You could feel his eyes on the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“Maybe,” He said, “I like watching you.”

“You’re insufferable.”

He smirked, eyes glinting. “You didn’t seem to mind earlier. When I put my arm around you on the couch, you didn’t move.”

Caught. 

“That was different,” You managed, keeping your voice even. He didn’t need to know how much of a rise that simple touch had gotten out of you. 

“Was it?” His voice was low as he came to lean against the counter beside you, arms crossed. “Felt pretty natural to me.”

Weeks passed and lines got blurrier. He touched you. A lot. Practically couldn’t keep his hands off of you—brushing a strand of hair from your face, a hand on your lower back, a stroke of his thumb against your temple. 

By the time you realized it was happening, that you were really, truly falling for him again, it was too late. 

Waking up with your head on his chest, Hana curled between you—it was too late. 

His arms resting on either side of you against the counter, his chest to your back as Hana sat on top of it—it was too late. 

His hand running back through your hair in front of everyone as he tried to find the scar you’d gotten from hitting your head on his dorm door all those years ago—it was too late.

As much as you tried to manage your affinity for him—remind yourself that he had always been friendly, that this was just a passing thing for him while he was bored at home—it was during your weekly dinner as a group that your feelings became impossible to deny any longer. 

You were in the kitchen, putting the dishes away when you heard a sharp crash from the other room—the sound of glass breaking.

Your heart skipped as you dropped the bowl you were holding and ran towards the living room. Someone had knocked a cup from the table, the shards spraying across the floor. 

Heeseung was on his feet in a second, scooping Hana up away from the broken pieces, stepping away as the others got up. 

You paused in the doorway, your breath catching as you watched him. The others stepped around him to clean up, bickering lightly about who was to blame, but Heeseung’s focus never wavered. He murmured something in Hana’s ear, pointing at the broken cup, bouncing her gently as they swept up the shards.

He looked up and caught your eye, and it was suddenly so clear. 

You’d been an idiot. 

Looking at Heeseung now, it was impossible for you to deny any longer. Heeseung loved you. How had you managed to convince yourself otherwise?

Old grudges rose in the back of your mind—he left you. he left like it was nothing, like everyone else does, and he’s going to do it again—but for the first time, you pushed them away with ease. 

They were words. 

And what use were words when there you had actions to prove them otherwise? 

Something about that moment, the way Heeseung had gone for Hana first, letting the others handle the mess while he made sure she was alright, made your doubts melt away. His first instinct wasn’t to scold whoever had knocked the glass over, or even to help clean it up.

It was to keep your daughter safe. 

You spent the rest of the day with a lump in the back of your throat, the awkward ache of all the things you wanted to say to him. He seemed to notice your change in attitude, that something was bothering you, and he stuck even closer than he usually did, stopping to ask you if you were okay multiple times.

“Will you stay behind?” You asked, glancing up at him. “After everyone goes.”

He looked surprised, but nodded. “Of course.”

The others eventually left again, wanting to go out for dinner. Heeseung promised he’d catch up with them but they just rolled their eyes, not believing him for a second. 

With the house empty again, it was impossible for you to dance around it anymore. 

Hana was down for her nap—eased to sleep by Sunghoon and Jake’s rendition of her favorite bedtime story. Heeseung was leaned against the counter, as if half-expecting you to say something. And your words sat heavy in your throat, aching to come out.

“You don’t know how much it means to me,” You murmured finally, looking up to meet his gaze, “Having you and the others here. I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.” 

“You don’t have to make it up to us, y/n. We’re happy to help.” 

“No,” You said, shifting uneasily. “I dont know how I’ll make it up… to you.” 

His eyes widened slightly, but you went on before he could answer, afraid that if you didn’t talk now, you’d never be able to again.

“I know…” You started, cringing internally at how difficult this was for you. Your feelings were so strong, why was it so hard to explain them? “I know I was harsh on you when you came over the first time. You were being kind, and I got defensive. I’m not proud of how I behaved at all,” You admitted. 

“Y/n…”

You stopped him. “Just—let me finish.”

He closed his mouth, but you saw the anxious twitch of his brow.

“You didn’t have to come back. You didn’t owe us anything, not after the way we left things and definitely not after the way I spoke to you. But you did anyways.” You crossed your arms, feeling self-concious. “I didn’t think that I would ever have this again,” You said, gesturing at the things left over from their visit. “I really thought I was going to do this by myself. And that was fine, I’d made my peace with it, but now…”

You paused, your eyes flicking to the picture Hana had drawn with the others—a mess of scribbles that resembled a house, and a group of people standing in front of it. “Now it’s different. And that’s hard for me.”

Heeseung swallowed, as if gathering every ounce of his strength to keep his voice steady. “It’s okay if… if you don’t want me here, y/n.” He held your gaze bravely, but you could tell the idea hurt him. “If this is too much, if you’d rather… I can go—”

“I don’t want you to go.”

He blinked, startled. 

“I know I’ve been guarded, and I’ve been pushing you away. But… but seeing you with her, and with me—it’s made me realize how much I’ve missed this. How much I’ve missed you.”

Heeseung’s brow furrowed as if he didn’t quite believe you. You almost smiled. He was so reserved, hands clenched at his sides, braced for what you were going to say. 

“I know I talk a big talk but… I don’t want to do this alone, not if you’re willing to be here. Not if you’re willing to… to be with us. I don’t want you to go.”

“You don’t want me to go.” He said it slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. 

You bit your lip, laughing a little bit at the look on his face. “No, I don’t.” 

Then, his face broke into a grin. His shoulders dropped and he was stepping towards you, pulling you into his chest like he’d been waiting to do it for years. 

And he had. He really had.

His touch was overwhelming. His arms wrapped around you, the heat of his throat warm against your cheek. You buried your face into his neck, breathing in the smell of his cologne and the lingering smell of kid that was all over him. All over both of you. 

You pulled away, giddy with nerves and relief. “Happy?”

“Happy,” He breathed. “So… what now?”

“I don’t know… what do you think?”

He quirked his head, lips twisting into a smile. “I think… I’ve been waiting a long time to kiss you again.”

Your heart skipped. “Then what’s stopping you?”

He smiled lazily, like he was half-dreaming, and brushed his nose against yours before pushing his lips onto yours. You melted against him, so happy you could hardly think straight.

Heeseung pushed you back against the counter, his hands on your waist as yours threaded through his hair. 

“I was an asshole,” He mumbled against your mouth. “I’m sorry” 

You shook your head, breathless beneath his lips. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

Besides, you thought, that was years ago. And the Heeseung in front of you now was not the same one that had left you behind. 

Not by a longshot.

[kyri45]

I didn’t realize you were the person who did the fanfiction tag drinks.

ahah yeah that's meeee!!

They are all available as stickers on my RedBubble shop!

Also I did Part 2!

[eelliotss]

— Borrowed time, part 5

‼️Caleb x reader x Sylus. Reader not MC. University AU. Modern AU. Angst angst angst!

Everyone knows Caleb is in love with MC. Everyone. Including you. But that does not stop him from flirting with you, teasing you, keeping you close. And it definitely does not stop you from falling for him—even when you know you’re just a stand-in, a place holder.

“I bet you still thought of me.”

song: party 4 u by charlie xcx [this song has been the main inspiration for this series, so whatever you feel listening go this song, i hope you’ll feel that while reading this series as well]

word count = 9.6k

i appreciate all likes, comments, reblogs, and asks. i may not reply to all of them, but i want you to know that i reread them over and over <3

i cant say im proud of this chapter, and tbh theres so much i hate about this part, but if i dont post this right now, i dont think i ever will, so please be kind, but i appreciate constructive criticisms! if this part felt unsatisfactory, just pretend this update didnt happen lol

ps. thank you so much for over 1k followers??? heres a thousand roses for all of you 😭🌹

part 1 | masterlist

The door creaks open.

The closet’s darkness slips away, replaced by blinding light and loud cheers.

But everything feels distant.

Your breaths are shallow. The warmth of his breath still clings to your skin, the ghost of his lips a lingering echo. His touch—still branded into your waist, your jaw, the hollow between your ribs. Your pulse hasn’t settled.

The air outside is cool, but your skin burns.

You stumble slightly as you step out, Sylus behind you—his shirt rumpled, one button undone. His silver hair is tousled, a little too messy. Your lips sting. You know you look wrecked.

And the crowd eats it up. Whoops and whistles explode around you.

You try to smile. You try to breathe.

But then your eyes land on him.

Caleb.

He’s across the room, half-lit by the cheap string lights, drink forgotten in his hand. His jaw is tight, his expression unreadable—except for his eyes.

They are cold.

Piercing.

It’s not anger. It’s like he’s looking right through you—like you’ve somehow ruined something sacred. Like you’re the disappointment.

Your chest tightens.

And then, just behind him, you catch a flash of movement.

MC.

Her head is down, hair shielding her face, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she brushes past him, shouldering her way through the crowd.

Caleb snaps out of his trance in a heartbeat. His face shifts—concern overtaking scorn—as he calls after her and follows without hesitation.

And just like every time before, he doesn’t even spare you a second glance.

The cheers fade into static. Laughter turns tinny and distant, swallowed by the ringing in your ears.

It hits you all at once.

The heat. The mess. The press of Sylus’s body against yours. The way you leaned into it. The way you wanted to. The way you let yourself.

And then—MC’s face. Her voice. Her smile when she told you he’s kinda cute, isn’t he?

Guilt slams into you like a car.

It punches the breath from your lungs.

You feel it in your throat, acidic and raw, threatening to spill. A sickening twist coils in your stomach, bile licking at the edges of your tongue.

What have you done?

What did you just let happen?

Your skin crawls. The warmth you felt seconds ago now feels wrong—disgusting. It clings to you like smoke. Like shame.

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold in the nausea curling up your chest.

Sylus says something beside you, low and teasing, but you don’t catch the words.

All you can hear is your own blood rushing in your ears.

And all you can feel is the weight of what you’ve just done. The taste of it. Bitter. Burning.

And the worst part?

You don’t even know who you’re more disgusted with—Caleb…

Or yourself.

You don’t wait for the whispers.

You don’t wait to see if MC turns back or if Caleb says anything at all.

You push through the crowd, pulse hammering in your throat, lungs clawing for air like there’s not enough oxygen in the room, not enough space in your ribs for this many feelings, this much shame.

The door slams shut behind you but it’s not enough.

Not enough to drown out the ghost of Sylus’s hands still on your waist. Not enough to erase the memory of his mouth against yours, hot and unbothered and too real.

Not enough to wipe away the scowl in Caleb’s eyes or the way MC couldn’t even look at you.

The night is too loud. The world is too close. Everything—everything—is pressing in on you.

So you push everything out of your way, scouring to find air.

You don’t think, don’t breathe, just bolt down the steps of the villa, sandals slapping against stone, the wind catching in your hair, stinging your eyes, stealing your balance. You don’t care.

The beach calls to you like a goddamn siren.

You trip onto the sand, knees buckling, breath shaking, heart feral in your chest like it’s trying to break out and leave you behind. You tear your heels off, toss them somewhere you’ll never find again, and march straight toward the water like it might wash you clean.

The ocean crashes louder than your thoughts.

Salt fills your nose. Wind tangles in your hair. The stars above are too bright, mocking. Too calm for the storm splitting your insides apart.

You drop to your knees at the shoreline, water licking at your calves, seeping into your clothes, and you let it. You need it. You need the cold. You need the sting. You need to feel something real.

Because everything in your chest is twisted. Twisted and wrong and out of place.

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against your knees, breathing like each inhale might keep you from unraveling completely. You wish it were just the alcohol. Just a mistake. Just a hazy memory you could laugh off tomorrow.

But you remember it too clearly.

His mouth. The weight of his gaze in the dark. The way his hand didn’t hesitate when it slid against your jaw, when he leaned in like he’d been waiting to taste you all night.

And you let him.

Worse—you wanted it.

The thought turns your stomach. You dig your fingers deeper into the wet sand, nails scraping at the earth, like maybe you can bury the part of you that’s smiling.

Because she’s there.

Somewhere inside you—beneath the nausea, beneath the shame—there’s a version of you curled up, smug and satisfied. A version who watched MC’s face twist, who watched Caleb’s scowl turn cold, and felt nothing but satisfaction.

That part of you is smiling.

You hate her.

Because that part of you—the one that enjoyed it—she’s been quiet for a long time. Always biting her tongue, always watching from the corners while MC took the spotlight, while Caleb gave his warmth to someone else. You taught her to wait. To be kind. To be better.

But god, you’re tired.

Tired of twinkling for people who never look up long enough to see you. Tired of being loved only in parts—when you’re easy, when you’re quiet, when you’re beautiful and harmless.

You’ve always been the supporting character in everyone else’s story. The best friend. The comic relief. The tragic footnote.

So tonight, you wanted to be the villain.

So tonight, she let herself out.

You let her kiss him.

You let her drag Sylus into that closet and tilt your chin up with a smile that begged “ruin me if you want to.”

And she did.

Now here you are, buried in the sand and sea, trying to figure out if the guilt eating at you is heavier than the satisfaction still curling at the edge of your lips.

You’re not supposed to feel this way.

You’re not supposed to want to be seen like that. Wanted like that.

Not at the cost of MC. Not at the cost of Caleb’s crumbling expression.

But you do.

You wanted them to see. You wanted to be wanted. And for a second—you finally were.

And for that, you are repenting your sins, kneeling by the shore and letting the cold eat you whole.

The tide rushes in again, crashing against your skin.

You raise your head, throat raw, eyes burning.

You sit there, watching the waves hit and retreat, over and over, counting the sparkling stars reflected on the ocean surface, until you could not feel your feet.

This is your way of atoning—because you fear the girl curled up inside you, biting on her nails every time a tear threatens to fall. Because the damage she has done once you let her out for a fraction of a moment is irreversible. Collateral.

And because you can’t promise this will be the last time you let her out.

You finally return to your room, dread curling tight in your chest like a vice. Each step down the hallway feels heavier than the last, your body moving on autopilot, mind spiraling with possibilities.

You hesitate at the door. Fingers resting on the knob. You aren’t sure what you’re bracing for.

An angry Michaela?

A tear-streaked Michaela?

A cold, distant Michaela who won’t even look you in the eye?

You don’t know which would be worse.

The knob turns with a quiet click, the door creaking open. You take a breath—slow, bracing—and step inside.

Empty.

The room is quiet. Still.

Her suitcase remains tucked in the corner. A half-drunk bottle of water sits on the bedside table. The lights are off, the curtains drawn. Not a trace of her. Not even the ghost of footsteps.

Somehow, it’s worse than yelling.

You stand there for a moment, motionless, caught in the heavy weight of nothingness.

Then your phone buzzes.

MC [02:46 AM]: Had to clear my head. Be back later.

Short. Punctuated. Not cold, but definitely not warm either.

And with that, you’re left alone.

Surrounded by silence.

Sinking into it.

You sit on the edge of the bed, heart thrumming against your ribs.

You should feel relieved.

You grip the edge of the mattress tighter.

You should be thankful the confrontation didn’t happen yet.

But all you feel is this crawling unease.

Like the silence is just the eye of the storm.

And when she comes back—

You’re not sure which version of Michaela you’ll meet.

And worse—you’re not sure which version of you she’ll find.

You get changed and crawl under the covers, body heavy, soul heavier. The silence is your only companion—thick, choking, unforgiving. You bury yourself into the blankets like they could shield you from the weight of what you’ve done.

Eventually, exhaustion drags you under.

•

Rustling wakes you.

Sharp. Precise. Intentional.

You blink your eyes open, and there she is.

Michaela.

Her back turned to you.

Her suitcase is open on the floor, half-filled. Clothes folded with a neatness that feels hostile.

You sit up slowly, throat dry.

She doesn’t look at you, nor say a word.

You rise. Move toward your side of the room. Get ready in silence. The kind of silence that screams.

Every breath feels wrong. Every second, guilt crawls further up your throat, pressing, choking, aching.

You swallow hard, then try to break the weight as you part your mouth to speak.

Your voice is quiet. Fragile.

“Michaela… last night, I—”

Michaela freezes for only a second before she turns around, face already wearing a smile that feels too sharp, too bright.

“Was such a blast! You gotta tell me all about what happened in that closet!” She winks.

“No—I—”

“Don’t think too deeply into it!” She waves her hand casually, like you’d just brought up a funny memory from a party instead of the reason her bag is half-packed. She lets out a breathy laugh, brushing her hair behind her ear. “It’s college, Yn. People kiss like, all the time. It’s nothing.” Her face drops slightly, but returns back to its beaming state. She reaches for your hands, and her voice lowers down. “It’s just a kiss, isn't it?”

A pause.

“Y-yeah,” you utter.

Her face beams once more as she squeezes your hands. “Besides, he is a pretty good kisser, isn’t he?”

You stare at her. The smile she’s wearing is dazzling—carefully crafted, practiced.

But it doesn’t reach her eyes.

And that hurts more than if she’d screamed at you.

The silence that follows is unbearable.

Eventually, the two of you gather the last of your things and leave the room. You walk side by side, the air between you tight with everything unsaid.

Outside, everyone is saying their goodbyes. Laughter, hugs, last-minute selfies. But none of it touches you. Not really.

You spot Caleb near the car, arms crossed, jaw tight.

He shifts his weight, arms crossed, leaning against the car with that infuriatingly calm expression—like he’s been waiting to deliver a blow.

“Well, well,” he drawls, eyes dragging over your form. “Eventful night, huh?”

You freeze mid-step.

His tone is light, teasing, even laced with that familiar cocky lilt—but it cuts deeper than any insult. Because you know Caleb. You know exactly when he means it. When the smile on his face is just another weapon.

“Hope he was worth the show,” he adds with a smirk. You can’t quite get a read on his face, can’t really understand whether the smirk is teasing, jabbing, or insulting.

You don’t answer. You can’t. So you walk past him without a word.

But he’s not done.

He leans in just slightly, voice dropping low enough for only you to hear:

“I bet you still thought of me.”

It hits you like a slap. You don’t flinch. You don’t give him that satisfaction. But it scorches down your spine, curling into something heavy and sour in your stomach.

All words run dry in your throat.

Because you know you did, and he knows you did.

So, swallowing down the lump in your throat, you quietly climb into the car.

The ride back is a void—quiet and cold despite the sun that floods through the windows.

Michaela sits in the front, headphones in, eyes fixed outside. Her expression is unreadable, a delicate mask of serenity.

Caleb drives in silence, but the tension in his body betrays him.

His knuckles tighten around the steering wheel. The muscle in his jaw ticks every time the car slows.

And yet—despite everything—you still see the way his hand occasionally reaches over to Michaela’s thigh. Subtle. Familiar. He squeezes gently, reassuringly, every time the silence grows too loud.

You sit in the backseat, hands clenched in your lap, stomach churning, heart clawing at your ribcage.

Because somehow, in this cramped little car filled with silence and ghosts, you still feel like the one who doesn’t belong.

•

You finally find yourself back in your familiar space.

The door clicks shut behind you.

Shoes off. Bag down. Keys tossed on the counter.

The silence wraps around you, soft and undemanding.

For the first time in days, you breathe without pretending.

You shower, letting the water scald the memory of Michaela’s laugh off your skin.

You eat something. Actual food. Not alcohol. Not regret.

And for a brief, flickering moment, you start to feel okay again.

Until your phone pings.

A message.

Unknown [6:43 PM]: So?

You freeze.

Every part of you stills—except for your heart, which begins to pound like it remembers the thing you’ve tried so hard to forget since last night.

Something forbidden.

Something thrilling.

Something wrong.

The memory comes back in flashes as guilt claws its way up your throat, hot and unrelenting. It tastes like shame.

You stare at the screen until the words blur.

And then, with trembling hands, you type.

You [6:50 PM]: It was a mistake.

You [6:50 PM]: Don’t text me again.

You hit send before you can think twice.

Your phone slips from your grip, landing face-down on the bed as you bury your face in your hands.

“It was a mistake,” you mumbled.

•

The following days were the most peaceful ones you’ve had in what felt like forever—quiet, slow, and mercifully uneventful. No parties. No whispered gossip. No sharp glances from Caleb or strained smiles from Michaela. Just the soft hum of routine and the space to finally breathe.

You sleep more. Eat better. Enjoying the lasts of your break. You’re rebuilding yourself piece by piece—one uneventful morning at a time.

But the moment you start feeling a little more like yourself, Monday catches up.

The quiet comfort of the break ends the second your feet hit campus tiles. The world spins forward like nothing ever happened.

Michaela acts like nothing ever happened.

She greets you with the same bright smile, the same light giggle, the same affectionate bump of the shoulder. As if that night was just another one of many forgettable college party blurs. As if your lips had never touched Sylus’s. As if her eyes hadn’t dulled the second they landed on you.

And you pretend too.

Because it’s easier that way. Safer.

Later that day, she loops her arm through yours as you walk out of class, swinging your hands between you. “Let’s go shopping after lectures? I need a new outfit or something for the first viewing next week,” she beams.

You nod before you can think too hard about it.

“Oh—” she adds, with that little flicker in her voice that always precedes something calculated, “I invited Caleb too.”

Your smile doesn’t falter, but your stomach twists.

The shopping trip is tolerable at best. Michaela slips into her spotlight with ease—twirling in front of mirrors, holding up dresses with playful pouts, laughing just a bit too loud at jokes that don’t quite land. Caleb sticks close, fingers brushing her waist, whisper her ear when she grins too hard.

But his eyes wander.

You catch him sometimes, gaze flicking to you when Michaela isn’t looking. Just for a second. Just enough to leave that same sour taste in your throat.

You don’t acknowledge it.

You can’t.

Instead, you smile when Michaela pulls you into the dressing room with her. You nod when Caleb asks if you’re tired. You pretend not to notice how her laugh dims a little when he lingers by your side for too long. You go through the motions—lift the hangers, compliment the colors, offer the safe, neutral opinions you’ve mastered so well.

It’s like muscle memory now. Playing your role.

Because if you don’t look too hard, you can almost believe this is normal. That nothing’s changed. That your mouth hadn’t betrayed you. That your silence wasn’t stitched from guilt.

By the time the sun dips below the skyline and the three of you step out of the store, bags in hand and feigned joy in your lungs, you feel wrung out—drained from smiling too much and meaning none of it.

Caleb says something—something teasing, probably—and Michaela laughs like a girl in love.

You stay a step behind them, clutching your bag a little too tightly.

You tell yourself it’s fine.

You tell yourself you deserve this.

Because in this triangle of careful lies and quiet betrayals—

You’re the one who kissed the wrong boy.

And you were the one who almost said yes again.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” Michaela says, as if it just came to her. “You have to come to the premiere next month.”

You blink. “The… premiere?”

She grins. “The film. The one we shot over break? We’re doing a small screening—kind of like a soft launch—for friends and crew.” She swings her shopping bags absentmindedly. “It’s just this tiny old theatre on 12th. Indie vibes, red velvet seats, ancient projector that might burst into flames halfway through—super charming.”

You force a smile. “Sounds cute.”

“You’ll come, right?” she says, looking at you over the rim of her cup. “I already told them to save you a seat.”

You hesitate—but not long enough for her to notice. “Sure.”

She beams. “Perfect.” Then, casually: “Sylus will be there too. I made sure he’d come.”

Your fingers tighten slightly around the straps of your bag.

“Made sure?” you echo, trying to keep your tone even.

Michaela shrugs, but there’s a sparkle in her eyes—the kind that always means she’s saying more than she lets on. “Yeah! I’ve been seeing him pretty frequently these days. Bumped into him a few times after the shoot… had coffee once or twice. He’s actually really funny when he’s not being all mysterious and broody.”

“Oh,” Caleb joins, light and amused. “Him. Great. Can’t wait to hear him brood about cinematography or whatever the hell it is he does.”

Michaela laughs, linking her arm with yours again. “Be nice. He’s actually been really helpful lately.”

“Helpful,” Caleb echoes, quirking a brow as he pops the lollipop from his mouth. “Didn’t realize mysterious bad boys were part of the crew now.”

“He’s not a ‘bad boy’,” she says, rolling her eyes.

She says it lightly, but there’s a deliberate lilt in her voice—a softness, almost flirtatious.

Your grip on your bag tightens, the fabric biting into your fingers.

You nod once, slow. “Didn’t know you two were close.”

She hums. “We’re getting there.”

Then, with a coy smile: “He asked a lot about you, though. Thought that was cute.”

Your chest constricts. The air feels thinner somehow.

“Anyway,” she says, skipping in front and spinning to fully face you, “it’s going to be such a fun night. You should wear that black slip dress—the one you wore to Jenna’s party? You looked so good in that.”

And all you could mutter in response was a short hum along with a smile.

•

The following days were as normal as they could’ve been. Well, aside from the fact that he has suddenly been everywhere.

At first, it was subtle.

A glimpse of him through the glass-paneled door of the editing lab, leaning over a student’s shoulder.

The sound of his voice drifting down the hallway—low, smooth, impossible to mistake.

Then you saw him again, this time in the courtyard. Talking to a group from the business department, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a coffee he barely drank from.

Word spread quickly.

“I thought he took most of his classes online?” someone whispered nearby.

“He does. No one ever sees him around.”

“Then why’s he here now?”

“Who knows? Maybe to complete his last courses before graduation?”

“He’s a business major, right?”

“Yeah, but like… old money business. Scary smart. The kind that makes you nervous to breathe too loud.”

You kept your head down, but your pulse never quite stayed still.

Because every time you caught sight of him, he never once looked your way—

And yet, you felt his presence like it was stitched into the fabric of your day.

He was too composed. Too polished. Too calculated.

And somehow, his silence was louder than if he’d cornered you outright.

“Just a mistake,” you mumble to yourself each time you see his figure waltz by.

But your quiet whispers to calm your nerves didn’t prove to be a very sustainable method.

Not when the universe seems hellbent on rubbing it in.

You see them together.

Once in the corridor outside the media building—her laugh echoing off the walls, his hand casually in his pocket, head tilted down to hear her better. They walk side by side, their pace easy, unhurried.

Michaela looks effortless next to him—bright-eyed, golden, her hand brushing his arm as she says something that makes him smile.

Not his usual smirk. Not the quiet, condescending curve of his mouth he wore like armor.

You stop in your tracks.

Just for a second.

Long enough for Michaela to spot you.

She waves. Cheerful. Unbothered. “Hey babe!”

He followed her gaze and landed on you. The smile on his lips curls up a little higher as you meet his eyes.

“Hello,” amusement coats his voice.

“Hi—”

“I’m probably not going to be free today for our usual hangouts,” Michaela cuts in, turning to you with an apologetic pout. “I asked Sylus to help with some of my work… You can hang out with Caleb by yourself, right?”

Before you can answer, she adds with a dramatic sigh, “Please tell him to chill and that I’m fine—just really busy. He’s been blowing up my phone non-stop these days.”

You force a smile, nodding once. “Yeah. Of course.”

She beams, already tugging Sylus further down the hall.

He casts one last glance your way.

A flicker of something in his eyes—teasing, sharp, unreadable.

As soon as you’re left standing there, caught in the space between their footsteps and your silence, your phone buzzes.

You glance down,

Caleb [4:28 PM]: where are you

Caleb [4:28 PM]: arent we having dinner today

Caleb [4:28 PM]: are you with her? she’s not answering my texts

Your stomach tightens.

You can still hear Michaela’s laughter fading around the corner, Sylus’s low voice murmuring something back.

Caleb [4:29 PM]: nvm

Caleb [4:29 PM]: i’ll find you myself

You don’t even remember agreeing to it.

One minute you’re reading Caleb’s texts with a pit in your stomach, the next he’s striding up to you outside the lecture hall—jaw tense, eyes scanning over your shoulder like he’s half-expecting Michaela to appear.

“She’s with him, isn’t she?” he asks, no greeting, voice clipped.

You blink. “Caleb—”

His expression shifts. He exhales, scrubs a hand through his hair, and forces a smile.

“Whatever,” he says, eyes softening as they settle on you. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here.”

And just like that, the edge in his voice fades.

“Come on,” he says, nudging your shoulder. “I’m starving. Let’s go grab something before I start chewing my own arm off.”

You hesitate for half a second, but he’s already walking ahead, glancing back to make sure you follow.

•

Dinner ends up being at this tiny place tucked behind the arts building—warm lighting, mismatched chairs, the kind of quiet hum that makes everything feel a little softer.

You sit across from him, arms tucked against your chest, still a little shell-shocked from everything.

He notices.

“You’ve been doing that thing again,” he says between bites. “Where your brain goes somewhere else and forgets to take your body with it.”

You snort. “And what thing are you doing right now?”

He leans back, exaggeratedly smug. “Being charming and irresistible, obviously.”

You roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth lifts. Just a little.

When your food arrives, he pushes his plate toward you with a quiet, “Try this. It’s better than yours.”

You glance at him, suspicious. “You haven’t even tasted mine.”

He grins. “Exactly. That’s how confident I am.”

It’s silly. Stupid, even. But it helps. The knot in your chest loosens just enough to let a small laugh slip out.

And then—just as you’re mid-bite—his voice softens.

“Hey.”

You look up.

His eyes are steady now. No teasing. No act.

“I never really got the chance to say it properly,” he murmurs. “About what happened at the filming set. That night. Everything.”

The clinking of cutlery fades around you.

“I was inconsiderate,” he says. “I thought too little. Acted too harsh. ”

He looks down at his hands for a moment. “I overlooked your feelings. And I hurt you more than I meant to.”

You don’t know what to say.

So you just watch him as he finally lifts his gaze again, softer now. Warmer.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’m sorry.”

The air between you stills.

“Can’t say I really enjoyed the stunt you pulled though,” he jokes.

The dinner continues quietly—less heavy now, more like the old rhythm you used to share with him. Caleb cracks a few jokes, pokes fun at your serious face, and makes exaggerated guesses about the lives of people at nearby tables. You end up laughing more than you expected to.

Then, as you gather your things to leave, he tilts his head toward you with a mischievous glint.

“One drink?” he asks. “There’s this quiet place nearby. They make the worst cocktails I’ve ever had in my life. Thought you’d like it.”

You roll your eyes. “Sounds irresistible.”

He grins. “Exactly.”

The bar turns out to be this cozy hole-in-the-wall tucked behind a bookstore, dimly lit with string lights that look like they’ve been up since 2003. There’s an old piano in the corner no one plays, and the bartender greets Caleb like he’s a regular—which is both comforting and mildly concerning.

The music’s soft. The booths are deep and worn-in. And somehow, the world feels smaller here.

Caleb orders for both of you, raising a brow at you across the table. “Just trust me.”

You don’t. But you drink it anyway.

“You’re smiling,” he points out, pleased with himself.

You arch a brow. “Must be the worst cocktail I’ve ever had in my life.”

He lifts his glass. “To consistent branding.”

You clink glasses, laughter warm between you.

The kind of warmth that sneaks up on you—gentle, nostalgic, easy.

And then, somewhere between the second and third drink, he leans back, eyes softer now, his playful edge melting at the corners.

“You know,” he starts, swirling what’s left of his drink. “I don’t really remember what my parents look like anymore.”

You glance over at him.

“You don’t talk about your family much,” you say gently.

He lets out a breath. It could’ve been a laugh.

“Don’t really have one,” he says. “Not really.”

He lifts the glass to his lips, but doesn’t drink. Just rests it there, like he needs something to hold on to.

“Thankfully, Michaela’s took me in,” he continues. “Thankfully…” he repeats, quieter this time.

Your mood sours from the mention of her name. Of course she would be mentioned.

“She has always been sick since she was a kid. ‘Cause of her bad heart.”

You stay quiet. Let him keep going.

Something in his voice says he needs to.

“It’s always been my responsibility to keep her safe,” he says, almost like he’s reminding himself. “Since we were kids.”

His fingers drum against the glass, slow and steady, like a heartbeat.

“And whenever I failed to do so… well…” he trails off, then smiles, a crooked, breathy thing that doesn’t touch his eyes. “It never really ended very well.”

You feel the weight of those words, the way he tries to tuck pain into them like they’re just another part of the joke.

“He used to remind me constantly… of my purpose…” Caleb mumbles, his voice slowing, slurring slightly. His words are slipping like his grip on the glass—loose, tired, too worn down to hold on.

You watch his eyes begin to dim, heavy with drink and something much older.

“You’re too drunk, Caleb,” you say softly, reaching out to steady the glass before it tips.

He blinks at you. Slow. Dazed. And then his lips part, just barely.

“That I’m just a stray…” he whispers, almost to himself. “If no one needs me…”

His gaze unfocuses for a moment. You don’t think he even realizes he’s still speaking.

Your breath catches.

He’s still smiling, faintly, lazily. But it’s the kind of smile that scourches your chest.

You slide your hand across the table, fingers brushing his. He doesn’t move.

“You should go home,” you murmur.

He doesn’t answer. Just leans further into his folded arms, the tension in his shoulders finally giving out.

You sigh, quietly.

The bar is warm, the night colder. And somehow, without much thought, you find yourself wrapping his arm around your shoulder, whispering half-hearted complaints as you half-drag, half-guide him out the door.

•

The days fly by like leaves lifted off the branches.

Nothing of the past has ever been mentioned ever again—the few days at the film set, the tense atmosphere between you and Michaela, nor the night Caleb slumped into your shoulder, murmuring half-truths through the haze of cheap liquor and old pain.

Classes resume. Group chats return to life. The cafeteria starts serving that awful tomato soup again. You slip back into the rhythm like nothing happened.

But the cracks are still there—just beneath the surface, waiting.

You’re sitting under the shade of a banyan tree behind the humanities building. It’s quiet, peaceful, a little breezy. Your lunch is balanced on your lap, half-eaten. Michaela plops down beside you with a soft “ugh” and a dramatic stretch.

“God,” Michaela says brightly, appearing at your side like she always does—seamlessly, like a breath of perfume. “He’s actually so funny once you get him to talk.”

You glance at her. “Who?”

She tilts her head, playful. “Sylus,” she says, drawing the name out. “He’s been helping me prep for the Q&A tomorrow. Said I needed to sound less ‘pageant’ and more ‘visionary.’ Whatever that means.”

Her laugh is breezy. Too light.

“Oh?” you respond, forcing a smile. “Sounds like you’re getting close.”

“Oh, it’s nothing serious,” she says quickly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Coffee here, late-night notes there. He’s just so…” She trails off, eyes sparkling. “Interesting, don’t you think?”

You hum. Noncommital.

Michaela doesn’t seem to notice—or pretends not to.

She takes a sip of her drink, then suddenly perks up. “Oh! The premiere’s this Saturday. Are you ready?”

You blink. “Ready for…?”

“The spotlight, duh,” she grins, nudging your arm. “To see yourself on screen, see the scenes you played in come together with the background music. And to see your name in the closing credit!”

You roll your eyes, but it makes you smile. “It’s not that serious.”

“It is,” she insists. “You looked amazing, even in the trailer. You carried that café scene.”

You snort. “I said four words.”

“Yeah, but you felt those four words. I almost cried.”

You laugh together, and for a second—it feels real. Familiar. Like the last few weeks never happened.

“Have you picked an outfit yet?” she asks between bites of salad.

You shake your head. “Was just gonna wear something simple.”

Michaela gasps. “No. You’re not walking into an indie theater full of film nerds in ‘something simple.’ You have to look effortless. Like you’re not trying, but also like… if you were trying, you’d end worlds.”

You glance at her, raising a brow. “That specific, huh?”

“Always,” she says, eyes sparkling.

And for a moment, it’s just the two of you.

Two girls beneath a tree, laughing about dresses and dumb film boys and the weight of appearances.

It feels soft. Safe. Like how things used to be.

And it hits you with a quiet ache.

Because even now, part of you still wants to believe this friendship can survive what’s been done.

That maybe you haven’t already burned the bridge.

That maybe—just maybe—she hasn’t noticed the match in your hand.

The rest of the week passes in quiet, deliberate steps.

Classes blur. The campus grows louder, buzzing with exams and end-of-semester deadlines. Your name gets tagged once or twice in the group chat—reminders about call times, wardrobe, a blurry meme of someone joking about crying during the Q&A.

You try on outfits with Michaela after class, like you promised.

It’s surprisingly normal—her room filled with scattered hangers, half-empty iced coffees, the faint sound of a playlist humming from her speaker.

You laugh. You bicker. You twirl.

And then—Saturday arrives.

The day of the premiere.

It’s just past golden hour when you step out of your building, the sky painted in soft streaks of lavender and orange. The air is crisp. The kind that wakes you up and reminds you something’s about to happen.

The old theatre on 12th is just as Michaela described it—small, a little run-down, with velvet seats that creak and a marquee that flickers every other letter.

There’s already a crowd forming outside. Film kids in too-large blazers and thrifted dresses, professors dressed semi-formal but too cool to act like it, and the crew—all wide-eyed and excited, passing around programs and laughter.

The theater glows in the soft spill of marquee lights, buzzing faintly overhead as you approach, clutching your clutch tighter than necessary.

The car pulls up just as you step onto the red-carpeted pavement.

And then you see her.

Michaela steps out first, the silk of her silver dress catching the light like water. It slips over her frame effortlessly—cool-toned and reflective, like moonlight turned human. Her lips are painted a soft coral, her eyes dusted with shimmer, and her smile—bright, unbothered, breathtaking—lands like a punch to the chest.

Then comes Caleb.

He unfolds from the car in slow, unhurried movements, sleeves of his black dress shirt rolled neatly to his elbows beneath a tailored blazer, the collar unbuttoned just enough to suggest trouble. His hair is slicked back, not too perfect, and a hint of cologne catches the air as he leans slightly toward Michaela, saying something close to her ear.

You feel it instantly—the pull. The heat.

They look like they stepped off a magazine spread. Like they’re here to be looked at. Owned it. Earned it.

Your stomach twists.

But then her eyes find yours.

“Yn!” Michaela beams the second she sees you, waving you over like the oldest friend in the world. Her voice cuts through the crowd with effortless warmth. “You look stunning! Oh my God!”

You force a smile, walking toward her as she reaches out and takes your hand for a brief spin. “See? I told you that dress was the one. Absolutely gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” you murmur.

Caleb’s gaze drifts lazily toward you. His eyes widen slightly, just for a second—subtle, but there. And then that crooked, lazy smile of his crawls up his face like he’s trying not to let it show too much.

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath, voice low, just loud enough for you to hear over the soft chatter of the crowd. “You do look good today, shortcake.”

You don’t turn to look at him. You don’t smile. But your pulse stutters anyway.

Inside, the lights are low and flickering, casting everyone in gold.

You find your seats near the front.

You sit first.

Then Michaela slips in beside you, smoothing the back of her dress.

Then Caleb—his thigh brushing against hers, jacket folding as he slouches back with that usual too-cool ease.

And then—

An empty seat. Reserved with a single placard.

SYLUS QIN

You stare at it for a second too long.

The serif font. The clean white card. The space he hasn’t filled.

People slowly fill the theatre, and the chatter dies down as soon as the introducing speech starts. Cheers and laughter are exchanged as the producer welcomes everyone, and soon, lights begin to dim, the hush rippling through the room like a spell settling.

The first flicker of light sears across your vision—too bright, too sudden. You blink, disoriented.

The grainy opening shot bleeds onto the walls, painting everyone in uneven strobes of white and shadow. Your hands curl into the fabric of your dress.

Then you hear your voice.

Just a small line, off-screen. But it makes your throat tighten.

And then you’re there. You.

A glimpse of your face on camera—too quick, too exposed.

Your stomach flips. A cold rush spreads down your back. You shrink into your seat without meaning to.

The flickering continues—scenes switching with sharp cuts, too fast, too loud. Your eyes strain to follow. The glow of the screen presses against your skin like heat.

You feel it in your temples. In the base of your skull.

A thrum. A pressure.

You try to breathe slower.

But there you are again.

In the corner of the frame. Behind Michaela’s shoulder. Walking across the background, smiling as she delivers a perfect monologue.

You’re always there—but never really there.

Never centered. Never seen.

Just enough to anchor the shot.

Never enough to be remembered.

Your heart races faster.

You glance sideways—Michaela is watching intently, chin tilted just so, the soft rise and fall of her breathing unbothered. Her hand rests lightly on Caleb’s arm.

You try to focus on the screen, but the lights are too much now. The images change too quickly. Your skin feels hot. The sound dips and rises, warping in your ears. Laughter in the film echoes strangely, like it’s bouncing around inside your chest instead of the room.

You swallow down the tightness clawing its way up your throat.

Breathe.

You stare at your knees. At your folded hands.

The screen flashes white again—another cut. Another shot of Michaela framed in golden light, eyes brimming with perfectly timed tears.

And just behind her, out of focus—your figure. Barely lit. Barely there.

You curl your fingers into your dress and force yourself to stay still.

Because if you move—if you flinch, if you breathe too loud—it’ll feel too real.

Like this isn’t just a movie. Like your position in the film is just as it is in real life.

Your breath hitches.

Get through this. Just get through this.

But the room feels too full. Your lungs too tight. Your face too visible under the flickering screenlight.

So, with quivering hands, you quickly excuse yourself out quietly, muttering a soft “I need to use the toilet,” to Michaela.

Your fingers brush her arm as you squeeze past, knees knocking against the velvet seat in front of you.

You don’t look at Caleb.

You don’t dare.

The moment you reach the aisle, you bolt.

The darkness of the theater presses in from all sides, but the exit sign glows red—blessedly real, blessedly distant from the version of you being projected for everyone else to see.

You push through the heavy doors.

Out into the hallway.

Into the quiet.

It’s cooler out here. Dimmer. The hum of the projector muffled by layers of walls.

And still, your hands shake.

Your chest heaves.

You press your back against the corridor and squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to breathe again.

To stop hearing the lines you spoke, the laugh that wasn’t yours, the way you stood just out of frame.

You weren’t supposed to matter.

You weren’t supposed to be seen.

But seeing yourself just that—seeing yourself as nothing more than a narrative device—knocks all air out of your lungs.

And so you do what you do best in situations like these.

You walk.

Down the corridor. Past posters for old plays and peeling signs pointing to locked rehearsal rooms. The soft clink of your heels echoes against the concrete, sharp and rhythmic, the only sound in the hush that follows you.

Left. Then right.

You take the stairwell without thinking—something about the way the door hangs open, waiting.

Up.

One flight. Two.

You’re not counting. You’re not really anywhere.

Just moving.

The final door gives with a groan.

And then—open air.

The rooftop is quiet. Dimly lit by a few tired bulbs and the soft haze of city lights glowing from below. The wind brushes past your cheeks, tugging at the hem of your dress, the strands of your hair.

You inhale slowly—deeply.

The air fills your lungs and doesn’t choke. For the first time tonight, your chest doesn’t feel so tight.

You hug your arms around yourself, rubbing warmth into your skin as you move toward the edge of the rooftop. The wind tangles softly in your hair. The quiet is heavier than silence—it’s soothing. Honest.

The sounds of the premiere, the echoes of your lines, the weight of Michaela’s smile, Caleb’s lingering glances—all of it stays behind those concrete walls.

But the moment your shoulders finally drop—the tension unwinding from your spine like thread pulled too tight—

a voice slices through the quiet.

“The movie boring?”

You jolt.

And there he is.

Leaning lazily against the railing at the far edge of the rooftop, one hand resting in the pocket of his black slacks, the other loosely curled around a cigarette he hasn’t lit. The wind toys with the edges of his shirt, untucked and open at the collar, the soft fabric fluttering just enough to hint at the warmth beneath.

His silver hair—bright even under the dull rooftop lights—shifts with the breeze, strands falling across his forehead in that effortless way that should be illegal. The city glows behind him, casting shadows across the hard angles of his jaw, the sharp lines of his cheekbones. His eyes catch yours beneath long lashes, amused, unreadable.

He doesn’t move.

He doesn’t need to.

Just the sight of him—calm, crooked smile in place, posture loose like he’s got nowhere to be and nothing to prove—pulls something taut inside you all over again.

Sylus Qin.

Looking like trouble sculpted in moonlight.

And you walked straight into it.

Your voice stumbles out, more breath than word.

“What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just tips his head slightly, eyes trailing over you in that infuriatingly slow, unreadable way of his.

“Didn’t realize rooftops were exclusively yours now.”

His voice is quiet but laced with amusement, like he’s already enjoying how thrown off you are. The wind picks up, tousling the silver strands of his hair. He doesn’t fix them. Just leans back against the railing again like this is his space now. Like you’ve wandered into his scene.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he adds, gaze settling on you. “Didn’t strike me as the type to abandon your own premiere.”

Your jaw tightens. “It’s not my premiere.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he murmurs, eyes glinting. “You were in almost every shot. That little background smile of yours really carried the emotional arc.”

You shoot him a glare. He shrugs.

“Relax,” he says, voice dipping just enough to make your skin prickle. “I’m just making conversation.”

And then, without breaking eye contact, he pulls the cigarette back out from his pocket—like he knew exactly when to use it for effect.

You watch as he rolls it between his fingers, slow and practiced, before slipping it between his lips. His eyes flick downward, shadowed beneath dark lashes, as he flicks the lighter.

A soft click.

A brief spark.

Then flame.

He cups the light with one hand, shielding it from the wind, the gesture intimate in its precision. The flame catches the edge of the cigarette, a quick sizzle, and then a curl of smoke unfurls between his lips as he leans back—head tilted, silver hair brushing the collar of his jacket.

He exhales through parted lips.

Smoke spills from his mouth in a lazy stream, rising into the night air.

And for a moment, the whole rooftop smells like sin.

You swallow. Hard.

Because it shouldn’t look that good.

No one should look that good doing something so simple.

But he makes it look like poetry wrapped in gasoline.

Dangerous. Beautiful. Impossible to look away from.

He glances sideways, catching your gaze—then smirks around the cigarette.

“What?” he says, smoke curling past his teeth. “You want one?”

You ignore his question as you cross the distance between you with quiet steps, heels clicking softly against the rooftop floor, until you’re beside him.

Close, but not touching.

You lean forward onto the railing, elbows braced, eyes fixed on the world below. The city stretches beneath you—cars like fireflies, neon signs blinking against concrete, life spilling in all directions.

“Heard you’re pretty close to Michaela these days.”

Words slip out of your mouth before you could stop them—carried off too quickly by the breeze.

Sylus doesn’t respond right away. Just takes another drag, eyes still on the skyline, unreadable behind the soft glow of the city lights and the rising smoke.

“Is that what people are saying?” he asks, voice low, like he’s half-amused, half-bored.

You glance sideways at him, but his expression doesn’t shift.

“She’s been… talking,” you murmur.

He exhales slowly, smoke curling from the corner of his lips. “Yeah. She does that.”

There’s a beat of silence. The kind that leaves your thoughts too loud.

“She seems to like you,” you add, keeping your voice light. “Says you’re funny. Helpful.”

His gaze finally cuts to you, slow and sharp. An eyebrow arches. A slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips.

“You sound jealous,” he says, voice dipped in something darker. Teasing. Dangerous.

Your breath falters.

“I’m not.”

He hums, low in his throat, clearly unconvinced. Then, he turns—just slightly—enough to face you, enough to make you feel it.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he murmurs, voice barely above the wind.

He leans in, just a bit. Not close enough to touch. Just close enough that the air between you shifts.

“I mean… if you wanted my attention,” his eyes drag slowly down your face, “you didn’t have to bring her up to get it.”

You blink. Hard.

The smirk deepens. He takes one last drag from the cigarette, flicks it to the side, and exhales—

Right past your shoulder, warm and slow, like it was deliberate.

Then he turns back toward the railing, arms resting casually as if he didn’t just turn your pulse inside out.

“Relax,” he says again, voice smooth and cruelly amused. “I’m just making conversation.”

“Fuck you and your conversations.”

“Language, princess.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, slow and smug, like he enjoys your bite more than he should.

He doesn’t look at you when he speaks next—just watches the lights below with that lazy, unreadable calm.

“The deal’s still on, by the way,” he says, almost offhand. “I don’t usually hold my deals this long.”

Your breath catches—but you don’t answer. Not immediately.

Instead, eyes still fixed on the city, you ask quietly,

“What’s it like?”

He glances sideways.

“To smoke,” you murmur, voice soft against the wind. “What does it feel like?”

That catches him off guard.

His smirk fades into something quieter—still sharp, but thoughtful.

He straightens a little, resting his elbows on the railing, eyes narrowed at the skyline like he’s remembering something he can’t touch anymore.

“It’s… warm,” he says eventually. “First few seconds burn. Then it’s just heat in your chest. Makes everything a little slower. A little duller.”

He glances at you again, eyes shadowed beneath silver strands.

“You’d hate it.”

And then, softer—

“You’d get addicted.”

You glance at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. “That confident, huh?”

His smile returns, crooked and slow.

“Always.”

Then—without looking away—he reaches into his pocket, pulls out the pack again, taps it once against his palm.

“Wanna try?”

You hesitate.

Just for a second.

The rooftop wind brushes your skin. The lights below blur like you’re not quite grounded anymore.

“…Okay,” you say finally, barely above a whisper. “Sure.”

His gaze lingers on you for a breath longer than it should—sharp, slow, searching.

Then, with practiced ease, he slips the cigarette between his lips, flicks the lighter, and inhales. The tip glows ember-red. Smoke curls around his face like it belongs there.

He steps closer.

Not fast. Not aggressive. Just… inevitable.

Until your backs are no longer parallel, but aligned.

Until his body is angled toward yours, his hand brushing the railing beside your arm.

Then he exhales—slow, steady—up into the air first, just to show you how.

And before your thoughts can catch up, before your pulse even finds a rhythm, his hand slides around your jaw. Gentle, but certain. Fingers curling under your chin, tipping your face up to his.

“Open,” he murmurs.

And you do.

He leans in—closer, closer still.

Not to kiss. Not yet.

His mouth hovers just a hair’s breadth from yours, and then—

He exhales.

Smoke floods from his lungs into yours, warm and heady and tasting like fire and him.

It hits you all at once—your lips parted against his, the heat of his breath rolling into your mouth, your chest, your nerves. Your hands grip the railing behind you, fingers curling tight.

And just as your knees begin to weaken, just as the smoke begins to burn—

His lips press to yours.

Not soft.

Not tentative.

It’s full, hungry contact—heat and pressure and something sharp beneath the surface. He kisses you like you’re something he earned. Like he knew this was coming the moment you stepped onto that rooftop.

And god, you let him.

His hand slips from your jaw to your throat, thumb resting lightly just beneath your pulse. You feel it hammering there, wild and fast. He deepens the kiss, mouth coaxing yours open further, tongue tracing the edge of your bottom lip like a tease, like a challenge.

You kiss him back.

Harder. Needier. Like you’ve been holding it in.

Like you’re finally letting go.

The smoke lingers between you. In your mouth. Your chest. The heat of it coils through your veins, makes the moment feel reckless, dangerous, electric.

When he finally pulls away, just barely, your lips are still parted—still chasing after him.

And Sylus—

He’s already smirking.

“Told you,” he breathes, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

“You’d get addicted.”

Your breath comes shallow. Foggy. Like you’re drunk—from the smoke. From him.

From the way his voice sits too low in your stomach, too warm in your throat.

You blink, dazed. “What the fuck was that?”

He laughs—low, rich, and dizzying.

“Still want to call it a mistake?”

You don’t answer. Can’t.

Not with the nicotine still curling in your lungs. Not with his breath still ghosting yours.

Maybe it’s the way the air thins between you again.

Maybe it’s the flush that rises to your cheeks when you look up at him and realize he hasn’t stepped back this time.

Or maybe it’s just that dangerous cocktail of heat and haze and the taste of sin still lingering on your tongue.

“I think,” you whisper, eyes flicking to his mouth, “you didn’t teach it properly.”

His gaze sharpens. That smirk falters, just for a second—enough to show the hunger underneath.

“Oh?” he breathes.

You nod. Barely.

He leans in. Slowly. Purposefully.

His hand grazes your waist, his breath brushing your lips—and just when you think he’s going to kiss you again—

He pulls back.

Barely an inch. Just enough to keep you chasing.

His smirk returns, lazier this time. Meaner.

“Didn’t think you’d beg so soon,” he murmurs.

You glare. “I didn’t beg.”

“Mm,” he hums, dragging a finger along your jaw, “Not yet.”

Then—finally—he kisses you.

But it’s slower now. Crueler.

His mouth moves with calculated ease, like he’s studying you. Like he wants to see how long you can last with the tension stretched this thin.

He barely gives you what you want—just enough heat to make your knees unsteady, just enough pressure to make you lean in.

When your hand fists in his shirt, tugging him closer, he lets out a quiet laugh against your lips.

“Impatient,” he mutters, and you feel it—low and hot—right in your throat.

And then he deepens the kiss.

Because he knows you’re done pretending you don’t want it.

And he’s done pretending he doesn’t love watching you unravel.

But in the middle of it all—his fingers sliding under your shirt, your hands fisted in the back of his hair, breaths shared like secrets—

It hits you.

A crack of clarity.

Sharp and sudden, cutting through the haze.

You pull back.

Not far, but enough. Enough to breathe. Enough to speak.

“Why are you doing this?”

His brows knit, just slightly. You feel the shift in him, the quiet tension settling beneath the heat.

You keep going. You have to.

“What will you get out of the deal?”

Your voice is low, but steady. The question tastes bitter in your mouth—maybe because you’ve been trying to pretend it didn’t matter.

But it does. It always did.

He watches you, smoke still clinging to his breath, his thumb pausing on your skin.

And for a moment, he doesn’t answer.

Like he’s deciding what version of the truth to give you.

Like he’s debating if you’ve earned it.

He fully pulls away, the warmth of his body gone in an instant.

You watch as he straightens his spine, smooths down his collar with one hand, runs the other through his wind-tousled silver hair—like he’s putting his armor back on. Like he needs the distance again.

“I’m not playing games,” he says.

His voice is low. Still sharp, but there’s something underneath now. Not heat. Not flirtation.

Something older. Quieter. Worn.

You cross your arms, still catching your breath. “Then what is this?”

He pauses.

You see the flicker in his eyes—a calculation, a hesitation. The part of him that always weighs what to say and what to bury.

Then his lips tug into that same maddening smirk.

“You’re just really pitiful,” he says, voice lazy with mock sympathy.

Your brows shoot up. “Excuse me?”

“Kind of like someone I knew,” he continues, like he didn’t just insult you to your face. His tone is still light, but something about the way he says it—too casual, too precise—makes you freeze.

He doesn’t elaborate right away. Just glances down at the city lights below, cigarette smoldering between his fingers again.

He takes one last drag from the cigarette before flicking it over the edge, watching the ember fall like a dying star.

Then he turns back to you—smirk faded now, voice lower, rougher. Real.

“Let’s just say—” he begins, eyes locking with yours,

“you get to use me to get whatever you want…”

A pause. A slow step closer.

“And I’ll use you to get whatever I want.”

He lets the silence stretch between you, lets the weight of the words hang there like smoke.

“Sounds fair?”

You don’t answer right away.

You just stand there—wind tousling your hair, the taste of smoke still clinging faintly to your lips—watching him.

Watching the way he doesn’t push.

Doesn’t ask again.

Just lets the offer hang in the air like a match waiting to be struck.

Your thoughts spiral—through the flickers of the film, the ache in your chest as you watched yourself play the shadow, Michaela’s bright voice, Caleb’s wandering gaze, Sylus’s mouth on yours, the weight of his hands, the things he said.

And the worst part?

The way all of it made you feel alive again.

Like something inside you had finally stirred.

Like you were tired of being careful. Tired of being quiet. Tired of waiting for someone else to hand you the pen to your own story.

You draw in a breath, meet his eyes.

“Fine,” you say, soft but steady.

“I’m in.”

His smile is slow. Pleased. Like he already knew.

But he says nothing. Just nods once and turns to leave, hands in his pockets, silver hair catching the rooftop light.

You don’t stop him.

You stay there for a moment longer, listening to the echo of your own heartbeat.

And when the rooftop door clicks shut behind him—

You’re still tasting sin.

Still thinking about the deal you just made.

And wondering who, in the end, will really get what they want.

[sparkleshakes]

I’M TIRED OF SMUT, I WANT TOOTH ACHING FLUFF AND HEART SHATTERING ANGST.

[taeghi]

keep it between us

the rule was simple: don't fall in love with your best friend's boyfriend. but jay doesn't make it that easy. so it leaves you thinking... are some rules meant to be broken?

PAIRING : bffs ex-bf!jay x y/n

GENRE : SMUT = MDNI, angst, some fluff?? cheating, some cum play, choking, slight slapping, degradation, exhibitionism

WC : 29.3k!!!!

this wasn't proof read!! im sorry!! pls enjoy

ruby is your best friend in the entire world. 

it’s a fact you find yourself repeating in your head more often than you’d like to admit. almost like you’re reminding yourself that you love this girl. 

it’s easy to realize that you love ruby when it’s just the two of you. whether you’re hanging out in her apartment watching a movie or at a cafe getting coffee together, it’s simple, relaxing. 

but at times like now, you feel like you have to forcibly remind yourself that ruby is your best friend in the entire world. 

your best friend has brought you to a party tonight, even though it’s a wednesday and you both have an 8am class tomorrow. somehow, situations like this are common in your friendship. you tell her no, give a rational, logical reason as to why you say no. and then ruby persuades you with her hunger for spontaneity everytime to do the opposite. 

from the outside, you and ruby look like complete opposites. even right now, at this party, others that don’t know or ruby would guess that you don’t even know each other, let alone be best friends. 

you’re sitting on a couch, lazily holding a red cup with some punch in it that tastes like shit, most likely because it was created by a group of frat boys. you’re sitting with a few people that you know from your classes, adding occasional statements to their conversation. 

meanwhile, ruby is absolutely wasted already, dancing all over heeseung at the pool table. she’s got her arms thrown around his neck, dancing and twirling off his body. you can hear her squeals of laughter from across the room, even over the loud music playing. 

it’s hard to not notice ruby. besides the fact that she’s constantly getting herself into situations where she’s the centre of attention (last weekend she fell off a table at a party from dancing too hard). ruby is beautiful— far away from “stereotypical” beauty. she literally excels with an aura of beauty. everywhere she goes, she has eyes on her. it’s something she’s come to expect and love. 

the thing about you and ruby is that in the areas of yourself that need to be more adventure seeking and social, ruby provides you. in the places where ruby needs more rationality and grounding is what you give her. both of you have traits that the other needs, which perfectly aligns and blends you together. which is what makes ruby your best friend. 

“what the fuck are you doing?” a man’s voice questions angrily. you turn to where the voice came from, right where ruby was dancing with heeseung. the person who you expected to be standing there, was. 

jay park is ruby’s boyfriend. they’ve been dating on and off again for the past two years. you’ve tried to remember the reason why the broke up for the first time, only one month into their relationship at that point, but it’s no use. they’ve broken up so many times over the past two years that you can’t connect what reason to the number of break up. 

jay and ruby are so similar yet so different at the same time. it’s exhausting. 

everyone at your college knows about jay and ruby’s complicated relationship. which is why no one at this party is surprised right now that jay and ruby are fighting, again. 

they both can be chaotic and impulsive, which so easily leads to their fights being dramatic and escalating quickly. they’re unpredictable together. one second they’re yelling until their faces are red, and the next they’re crawling back into bed with each other. their attraction to each other is strong enough that their commitment issues are almost constantly showing. 

“i’m dancing jay, is that a problem?” ruby answers him, her face twisted in annoyance as she holds one of her hands on heeseung’s shoulder as she stares down her boyfriend. 

“yeah, you’re grinding on heeseung, right in front of me.” 

ruby only chuckles, “i’m just having fun, jay. chill out.” 

“chill out?” you can see jay’s jaw tense from across the room, “how can i do that when my girlfriend looks desperate as fuck grinding on whoever is closest to her.” 

ruby’s faux smile drops from her pretty face, her eyes narrowing at jay in front of her. heeseung’s stuck in the middle of them. 

“why can’t i have fun without you getting all possessive? i’m not yours, jay.” 

jay scoffs, “yeah, clearly you fucking aren’t. don’t come near me again.” jay shakes his head at her before he turns, bee-lining it through the crowd of people. 

“fuck you, asshole!” ruby shouts after him, her chest heaving in anger as she watches her ex boyfriend storm out of the party. 

you can’t help but sigh as you know that it’s time for you to get ruby to go home with you. you’ll have to see her switch from crying to yelling in anger about jay until tomorrow morning, when they will most likely forgive each other again. ruby is your best friend in the entire world. 

“have fun,” maria, a girl from your calculus class, nudges you with a smile. knowing to a certain extent what you’re going to have to deal with for the next eight hours. 

“thanks,” you roll your eyes playfully. 

“i just, i don’t get why they can’t just break up for good. like they seem miserable together.” jake, a boy from the rugby team at your college, grumbles. 

you shrug, “if you find out, don’t forget to tell me.” 

your classmates tell you they’ll see you tomorrow as you head over to ruby, who’s sobbing into heeseung’s shirt now. by the look on his face you can tell he has no idea what to do, he feels awkward about this whole thing. 

“ruby?” you place your hands on her shoulders gently, “wanna get out of here?” 

ruby turns to you, her lips pouting and her makeup running down her face, “please, y/n.” 

she lets you start to guide her away from poor heeseung and outside. you smile awkwardly at heeseung, trying to reassure him that everything’s fine. he looks as confused as ever, but he manages to smile back at you before you get lost in the sea of people. 

ruby puts her head on your shoulder during the uber ride home. her crying has turned into small sniffles. “he’s such an asshole, y/n.” she tells you, a sentence that you’ve heard one million times before. 

“i know,” 

ruby lifts her head up to look at you, her lips still in a pout, “but he’ll come back, right? he always does.” 

you force a reassuring smile at her, knowing that no matter what you say, she’ll only listen to what she thinks. “right, he always does.” 

she manages to smile weakly at your words, returning her head to your shoulder. 

ruby is your best friend in the entire world. 

you wake up the next morning, way past 8am, to your phone ringing. 

almost blinding, you reach for it, keeping your head on your pillow as you answer and mumble a scratching “hello” into the line. 

you instantly hear crying, gasping for air, like sobbing, “he— he blocked me!” 

“who?” you rub your eyes, trying to understand what you were hearing.

“jay! he fucking blocked me!” 

memories from the night before come back to you as you remember dropping off a crying ruby at her apartment before you went home and passed out. you don’t know what to say to her. they’ve broken up and made up so many times before that you don’t feel any urgency to try to comfort her since they’ll probably be back together before you go to sleep tonight. but he’s never blocked her before. 

“he’s being so ridiculous!” ruby continues, her voice shaking, “i just need my stuff from his place but he’s wont fucking answer me. can you go get it for me, y/n? please.” 

you roll over onto your back to stare at the ceiling. you want to say no. you want to say that she should deal with something by herself for once. but you know that you’re already going to do it for her. just like every other time she’s called you crying about jay. 

“yeah, sure.” 

“thank you, y/n. i don’t know what i’d do without you.” 

“no problem, rubes. i’ll text you when i have your stuff.” 

you hang up, but you don’t get out of bed right away. you love ruby, but sometimes it takes so much effort to do so. you don’t know why or how you’re always stuck in this cycle between her and jay. you’re always the mediator, the shoulder to cry on. just so that the cycle restarts an hour later, like it never ended in the first place. 

you tell yourself that you’re just doing ruby a favour, but you know the favour will never be reciprocated and that it’s not just one favour. it’s like you’ve been doing her favours constantly for years. you want to tell her how you feel, but you don’t do confrontation. and you’re sure ruby will take it as an insult either way. 

so, like usual, you tell yourself that it’s fine and to not think about it. 

you go to jay’s apartment.

you’ve never been inside jay’s apartment building before, only outside of it when you pick up ruby or something. you hesitate before knocking on his door. you can’t tell if the reason you’re nervous is because you’ve never been here before or because you’re going to be alone with jay in his apartment. 

but, you’re here for ruby. and that’s it. 

the apartment door swings open before you can knock again. jay stands there, shirtless with a joint hanging from his lips. he leans against the doorframe with a slow and amuse smile on his face once he sees you. “what’s up, y/n?” his voice is casual, like all the other times he’s spoken to you. his gaze doesn’t leave you as it flickers over your entire body. 

you cross your arms as a reflex, “uh, ruby sent me to get her stuff.” 

his lips twitch like he wants to laugh, “of course she did.” 

it makes you wonder if he’s also realized that you do everything for ruby. if so, how many other people realize this? 

jay steps aside, nodding you in with the joint hanging loosely in his mouth. you step inside as he walks past you. his apartment smells like a mix of his cologne, the one that you helped ruby pick out for his birthday, and weed. his tv has a PAUSED screen on it from his video game. 

you watch as jay starts to move around his apartment, picking up things that belong to ruby that are scattered around. he doesn’t look at you, and you try not to look directly at him for too long. his back muscles flex as he bends over to pick up ruby’s phone charger. you pretend that it doesn’t make your stomach twist. 

“you know, you don’t have to do everything she says, right, y/n?” jay speaks, blowing out a stream of smoke. 

you feel your body tense at his words. “i know. she’s just tired today so.” 

he gives you a look like he knows you’re lying. because even though you and him aren’t extremely close, you both know ruby down to the very detail. 

jay shakes his head, “ruby’s such a fucking child. i can’t deal with her anymore. i’m the always the bad guy, but she’s the one who can’t keep her shit together.” jay’s honesty scares you. your first instinct is to defend ruby, she is your best friend after all. but a second part of you understands what jay is saying. 

“you’re not a bad guy, jay.” you surprise yourself with how quickly the words come out. “you made mistakes, but no one is perfect.” 

you can tell by jay’s expression that he’s also surprised at your response. but he looks away, picking up the last of ruby’s things from the kitchen table. he walks over to you, handing ruby’s handful of things over to you. he’s still shirtless, towering over you. he holds his joint in his index and middle finger. 

“you’re too nice for your own good, y/n.” 

you smile softly at him the best you can, avoiding eye contact with him now that he’s so close to you. you can feel tension growing inside of you, but you don’t know if it’s also growing within him. you are his ex girlfriend’s best friend after all. 

“you’re so different from ruby, ya know?” jay’s voice is deeper, his head tilted to the side with an amused smile on his face. 

“yeah, i know.”  you agree, trying to keep the conversation light. you don’t know where he’s going with this. you’ve never really had a conversation alone with jay before. 

“i like that.” 

your eyes widen at his statement. not expecting it at all. he only laughs at your reaction, stepping closer to you, taking a drag from his joint. his eyes scan you up and down as he exhales, blowing it out at the side of his mouth. 

“uh, thanks,” you manage to get out, your voice sounding like a squeak. it only makes his smile grow further. 

jay leans in even closer to you, making you back up against the front door behind you. you can smell the weed strongly now. he reaches over to the shelf beside you and puts out the rest of his joint in the ashtray. you stand frozen in your place. you’re trying to wrap your head around why your heart is beating so fast now. reminding yourself that this is jay standing in front of you. 

but the way that jay is looking at you right now. like he’s noticing all the small details about your face for the first time in his life, distracts you from anything else. 

“tell me to stop, y/n.” jay says, his voice lower and softer. his chest is almost brushing against yours he’s so close to you. his eyes are darkening and mischievous. his words hang in the air, challenging you to do something. 

it’s a challenge that you fail. 

jay’s lips crash against yours. it’s urgent and rough, like he’s been dying to do this forever. you hesitate for a second, trying to understand how your best friend’s ex is kissing you so harsh and desperate. like he’s starving for you. 

it’s only when jay’s hands cup your jaw, deepening the kiss that you relax and wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders. his body is hard and firm under your touch. it’s new but familiar all at once. it’s something that you’ve thought about more than once. the thought that you’re finally giving in to something that you’ve imagined over and over again throughout the years sends a rush of adrenaline down your core. 

jay’s lips guide yours, taking control, showing complete dominance over you. the wave of submission courses through you as you let his movements lead the way, like you’re chasing after him. 

jay starts to step back, keeping his lips attached to yours as he guides both of you to the couch behind him where you’ve sat with ruby and him before. he sits down, his hands grasping your hips as he pulls you down on top of him so you’re straddling him. 

“we shouldn’t be doing this,” you pull apart for a second, unable to keep your lips off of his for more than a second. 

“i know,” he mumbles back, keeping his eyes closed as he chases for your lips. 

you can’t help but feel like this is so wrong. you should have never gone to your best friends’ boyfriend's apartment. you knew it’d be dangerous, especially when jay is so vulnerable right now and you know you have no self control when it comes to him. 

but at the same time is feels so good to be touching him like this. you have thought about it one million times before, but always with the guilt that he was dating your best friend. now its different, they’re broke up and it’s oblivious that jay wants you just as much as you want him. you don’t have to hide your lust for him behind the mask of being his girlfriend's best friend. it’s like he finally sees you as more than that. you can tell by the way his hands are gripping your waist, guiding your hips to move overtop of his hard cock growing underneath his sweatpants. 

jay’s fingers hook underneath the bottom hem of your shirt, pausing against your skin, making the area burn against the contact. 

“can i?” jay asks, his eyes looking up into yours above him. his eyes are serious, yet pleading for you to say yes.

you blush at the eye contact and manage to nod in approval. trying to ignore how your hands start to shake on his shoulders from nervousness and adrenaline of excitement crashing together. 

jay continues to pull your shirt off your head and drops it on the living room floor. it leaves your chest completely bare to his eyes. he grabs your waist tightly, making it unable for you to move to cover yourself from the shyness that is creeping up your body. you’re unable to hide. his eyes scan your skin quickly like he’s in a hurry to remember every square inch of your body. you bit your lip in unsureness, trying to decipher what he’s thinking as he looks at you. 

he finally speaks, “you’re so fucking pretty, y/n.” 

your lip stuck between your teeth helps cover your growing smile at his compliment. jay has never looked at you or spoken to you like this before. like you’re y/n and not ruby’s best friend. he sees you as your own person. 

everytime you’ve hooked up with someone before, it’s been someone you’ve met through ruby. they’ve always rushed you, barely spoken to you and it always felt like they hooked up with you out of limited choice of other people to hook up with. 

and you can never forget the time you were hooking up with jaehyuk in the year above you and he moaned ruby whilst he came inside of you. the worst part is, he didn’t even realize he had done it. he just pulled out, put his pants back on and high fived you before he left you in the random bedroom at the party. 

since then, you’ve been more aware and weary of what you hook up with, especially the ones you’ve been hooked up with through ruby. you feel like you’re just always seen as since ruby is unavailable, you’re the second best option since you’re her best friend. you always feel like you’re ruby’s shadow, like you’re not your own person with your own feelings and opinions. 

but now, on top of jay, with his eyes on your skin and voice in your ear, it feels different. you feel seen for once. like he wants you and only you. and not because you’re ruby’s best friend, not because you were just there and available. 

jay leans in and kisses your collarbone, his tongue darting across it. his lips suckle against it, leaving a dark red mark that (you hope) will bruise later. he takes his time, his tongue trailing slowly across your chest. he’s teasing you as he gets closer to the sensitive skin along your breasts. he licks right beside your nipple, loving the way you mewl in dissatisfaction from his teasing. you can feel his lips form a smile against your skin. 

when his finally wraps his lips around your pink bud and sucks harshly on it you gasp softly. your hands tighten around his head to keep him close as his own hands tease your spine, gently rubbing up and down the indent. he nibbles on your nipple gently with his teeth. your hips are still circling above his crotch, you can feel him hardening even more at your audible reactions to his movements. 

jay pulls away, his arms wrapping around your waist as he stands up. your wrap your legs around his waist in shock, your eyes wide as you stare down at him. he keeps a cocky grin on his face as he starts to walk to his bedroom with you in the air. 

“just trust me, i got you.” he tells you earnestly, chuckling under his breath as your reaction. 

jay lays you down onto his bed, your head landing in his pillows. you try to ignore the questioning thought of how many times ruby’s head has been in your exact position before. 

jay takes his time with you. slowly kissing down your bare chest and stomach. his hands roaming every part of your body he can reach. when he gets to your jeans he unbuttons them and your panties down your legs. 

you can tell that jay is confident and experienced, a bit cocky. even though you’ve never been together like this before, he still acts like he knows exactly what makes you feel good. like you’ve told him yourself. he doesn’t hesitate with any of his actions, thus his head is in between your legs with no further thought. 

jay’s tongue delves into your pussy, lapping up your juices, wanting to taste you so badly. you can’t help but moan out at the first touch of his tongue. it had been so long since a man has properly tasted your core. you can tell that jay knows exactly what he is doing and it amazes you. you had thought that no one could ever make you feel good with their tongue, that it was something that only seemingly happened in porn. but with jay, it was different. 

your hands grip the sheets underneath you, needing to steady yourself as you prepared for jay’s tongue to start switching between darting in and out of your hole and circling your clit. he keeps his hands on your hips, pinning them down to try to stop you from bucking up into his mouth. you keep your head up on your shoulders, looking down at him as he works his tongue all over your pussy. you moan as he keeps his eyes on you, wanting to catch every single reaction you make to his movements. 

everything he was doing felt new to you. it leaves you uncertain of where this was all going. you’ve never felt this good from someone else before. you’ve never been touched with care. part of it makes you nervous as you don’t know where this is going. like maybe everything will just fall apart in a second. but you don’t want jay to stop. 

jay slips two of his fingers inside of you, immediately curling them to find your gspot. you gasp out, eyes widening as he manages to increase the amount of pleasure you were feeling. “oh god,” you mumble out weakly, your lip getting stuck between your teeth. you feel jay smiles against your wet pussy, your juices and his salvia mixing on your pussy and his lower face. his chin was already a mess from how deep and passionate he was eating you out. 

jay’s fingers create a pace, making sure to curl them perfectly to his your gspot everytime he pushed them back into your tightening walls. both of you knew it wouldn’t take much longer for you to cum. and although you were embarrassed at the realization, jay was even more turned on by it. his hips started grinding more into his mattress below him, trying to relieve himself a bit underneath his usually loose sweatpants, but now were suffocatingly tight. 

“just cum, y/n, please,” jay begs you from his spot between your legs, “i wanna feel you cum on my face so bad,” his eyebrows are pulled together, desperate as he pleads for you to cum, “wanna taste you even more, all of your juices.” 

“f-fuck,” you stutter out, your jaw becoming slack as you allow the pleasure to fully consume you now. jay can tell you’re finally coming undone when your walls spasm around his fingers, your hips buck up to still against his face, letting him suck on your clit harshly through your orgasm. your head is thrown back into his pillow. you feel almost helpless as you lay there, your body frozen as your orgasm hits you hard as hell. you can’t even push jay’s head away when his tongue starts to overstimulate you. 

when he feels like he’s drank every last drop that your pussy would give him, he presses a kiss onto your shaking thigh and pushes himself up so he’s hovering over top of you. he stares down at you, right into your eyes as you try to catch your breath and relax from your orgasm. 

jay doesn’t say anything as he leans down and makes your lips meet his. your eyes close as you kiss him back. you hum at the taste of yourself on his lips. he pushes his tongue into your mouth, exploring it as your hands wrap around his shoulders to keep his lips against yours for longer. his kiss feels addicting as you follow his lead, liking how easily he can take control and guide you with your lack of experience. 

jay roughly pushes his lips off of yours, his hand taking a grasp of your jaw, forcing you to stop. you look up at him through your lashes, chest still heaving from the lack of oxygen being provided from your orgasm and his kiss. jay’s thumb brushes against your bottom lip, swiping away some of the saliva you had mixed together. he smirks down at you, obviously catching the submissive glimpse in your eye as you look back at him, “you wanna keep going?” 

breathlessly you answer, “yes,” you nod with his hand still taking your chin captive, “please.” 

jay’s smirk only seems to widen mischievously, “good girl.” 

he takes his hand off of your chin and instead starts to pull off the grey sweatpants he wore oh, so loosely on his dainty hips. his pants are off and thrown on the messy floor of his bedroom in a second, but you don’t look where exactly they are thrown to. you can only stare at jay’s hard cock finally being revealed to your eyes. you mean, ruby has shown you pictures years ago when they had first gotten together, but that didn’t count. jay was now physically in front of you with his cock hard just for you, wanting to be inside of you. the thought had your thighs rubbing together. jay catches the  movement, chuckling deeply as he places a warm hand onto your bare knee and prying your legs back open. 

jay easily, almost perfectly, slides himself in between your legs, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. jay starts to rub his cock up and down your slick, wet folds. he collects all of your juices and his saliva onto his cock., lubricating it to push it deep inside of you. when the red tip of his cock rubs against your clit it has you mewling out from the need and sensitivity. you feel like walls clench around nothing, just the thought of jay finally being inside of you. 

“ready?” jay confirms, his eyes staring right into yours again. you can barely look at him, almost shy again now that his cock was a milimeter away from pushing inside of you, stretching your walls. 

“yes,” your voice is weak and feeble when you answer. you feel embarrassed almost, but you know he doesn’t know why. he probably thinks you’re shy because you’re bare in front of him. he doesn’t know that what is happening right now is a situation where you have thought of multiple times before and now that it’s real, it’s making you blush. you know that he’s probably never thought of you in this position with him before, but you don’t seem to mind as jay finally pushes his cock inside of you. 

jay goes slow, his tip that is dripping with precum slides in first and he stops once it’s fully in. you try to calm your breathing at the stretch of only his tip entering. jay keeps his eyes on you the entire time, his one hand resting on your knee whilst the other stays gripping his cock, pushing it further, in so slowly, so gently. like he’s afraid he’s going to hurt you. it’s the most caring anyone has ever been with you and he’s barely even started. 

within a minute, jay has slowly pushed himself into you. your hips are pressed against each other. your legs are spread so your clit is exposed to his eyes, rubbing against his lower abdomen. jay watches your face the entire time, not wanting to cause you any discomfort, but once he’s fully inside he can’t help but groan out and drops his head into your shoulder. 

“fuck, you feel unreal, y/n,” jay grumbles against your skin, his voice directly into your ear as he lays on top of you. he’s careful to not move his hips in any sudden way. he lets both of you get used to the stretch his cock has on your tight walls. you know you’ll be repeating the way his voice is so raspy and already out of breath as he says your name over and over again after this is done. 

jay presses his lips into the crook of your neck and shoulder before he pushes himself back up onto his elbows, trapping your head in between, forcing you to look up at him. 

he keeps his eyes on you as he slowly pulls himself out of you, keeping just his tip in. you gasp out, your back levitating off of the mattress behind you as his cock seems to glide against every spot inside of you that makes you feel good. when he slides back in, his cock hits your g spot, making you whimper out. 

your chests are pushed together as jay starts to create a pace. he steadily keeps the pace, your legs still wrapping around his waist. you find it hard to look back at him as he’s looking at you. you feel so exposed underneath his gaze. like he can read your mind perfectly. like he’ll realize that maybe this means more to than it does to him. 

because you know that neither of you should be doing this, but you shouldn’t especially. though you and jay are supposed to be loyal to ruby, you have more reasons than jay to not be doing this. because this means nothing to him, and both of you know that. but you know that there is a deep, suppressed feeling in your chest towards jay that you force yourself to not think about. that when you look at jay there’s a certain twinkle in your eye that you’re afraid he’ll see as he lays on top of you, his cock delved deep inside of you. 

jay huffs as he sits up on his knees, his hands moving from above your head to your hips. your legs stay glued to his hips, not wanting him to escape you, as if your legs will keep him there forever. his bangs fall into his face as he stares down at you. 

“tell me if it’s too much, ‘kay?” his voice is deeper now, the lust taking over. 

“okay.” 

jay slides his hips away from yours, his cock almost leaving your needy hole before he slams back inside of you. your whole body jerks up towards your bed. your moan mixes with jay’s in his bedroom. both of you were tired of his slow, gentle thrusts that had only turned into teasing the more your walls tightened around him, the more his cock swelled every time it hit your cervix. 

jay’s grip on your waist tightens as he starts to pick up his pace. he’s moving quicker now, slamming his hips against yours every single time. your hands fly above your head, gripping the headboard above your head to prevent you from hitting your head. he’s fucking into you so hard you think your core will be bruised in the morning. but you don’t mind. 

no you don’t mind at all. if it gives you a mark that will let you remember that this is really happening and not some figment of your imagination then you wouldn’t mind. if it’s jay giving you marks on your body that prove he has touched you in a way you could’ve only dreamt of before now then you wouldn’t mind. 

your hands cover your face as you try to hide your moans and expressions. it’s almost diabolical how good jay is making you feel and it hasn’t even been that long that he’s been inside of you. you’re sure jay can tell you’re inexperienced, he’s probably even heard stories about you from ruby. you think he’s been around more than once when you and ruby have even talked about the lack of hookups you’ve had. but right now you don’t want him to think about that. 

suddenly, jay’s warm hand wraps around both of your wrists, pushing them over your head. he pins them to the mattress below, not letting you move them. he traps you there, with your hands over your head and eyes widened as you can look nowhere but at him. 

“don’t do that,” he shakes his head at you, his thrusts still not stopping. “let me see you, please, look at me, baby.” 

the nickname sends an electric shock down your body, making your walls clench tighter around him. you’re sure he can tell by the way his jaw drops as he continues to thrust, his eyes staring right into yours. you want to hide, mask yourself from him, but he makes it so hard. 

“please,” he begs you, his voice desperate and deep.

“o-okay.” 

jay smiles at you, leaning down and kissing you. the kiss is soft and gentle compared to how hard and fast he’s thrusting into you at the same time. you can’t help but moan into his mouth, muffled by his tongue meeting yours and circling it. his taste is becoming familiar to you too, now. 

jay pulls away, sitting back up, leaving your hands as he grabs your waist with both hands again. your hands fly to his forearms, wanting to get as much as his touch as you can. jay doesn’t say anything, just keeps grunting as he thrusts into you. 

unlike any of the other guys you’ve been with, jay keeps his eyes on you. his pleas of looking at him keep your eyes on him. you wanted to please him as much as you can. so even though you’re worried he’ll be able to tell you see more in this situation than he does, you keep your eyes open and on him. 

jay’s fingers land on your clit, rubbing the bud in fast circles, adding to the pleasure that was growing in the pit of your stomach. your grip tenses around his forearms from the pleasure. your back arching off the bed uncontrollably. 

“fuck, you’re so sensitive,” jay mumbles as he watches your body fumble around below him. you whine in response out of embarrassment and lust and need all at once. jay laughs through his breathless thrusts, “it’s hot, don’t worry.” 

“you’re hot.” you can’t help but reply. and you blame it on the orgasm that’s quickly building inside of you, because you know that you’re usual self would not dare to speak that, even though you’ve thought it since the first day you had seen him. when ruby had brought him over to introduce you to him in the university cafeteria. his hair was shorter back then and he was less muscular than he is now. but you still found him drool worthy. you remember him sticking his hand out to you, shaking your hand as ruby introduced you to him as her “best friend for life”. but you couldn’t stop staring into his deep brown eyes that were turned into a smile. 

jay chuckles at your statement, it’s something he already knows— and he knows that if it wasn’t for his cock hitting your g spot over and over again, you would have never told him. 

“i wanna cum inside of you,” 

a wave of electric pleasure soars through you, your walls tightening more as your body squirms below him, “please, please.” 

jay’s jaw drops again and his eyes close for a second as he takes in your wet walls enclosing around him, literally suctioning him in, tempting him to cum inside of you right this instance. 

“fuck, okay,” jay nods at you, eyes meeting yours. their colour is darker now compared to when you first met him in freshman year. they’re filled with lust and need as he rubs your clit in faster circles with his three fingers. “i want you to cum with me, you think you can do that?” 

“yes, yes, god.” you nod against the mattress, your hair becoming a mess because of all your squirming. 

if you weren’t so close to cumming on jay park’s cock you would be embarrassed by how fucking needy and desperate you sound. 

jay starts to fuck his dick into your harder and harder. his bedroom is filled with your moans and his grunts and the almost disgusting, wet sound of your bodies meeting together. your entire inner thighs are leaking and drenched and spreading all over his lower abdomen. neither of you can care at this point, loving the mess it takes to get this close to cumming so hard. 

“beg for my cum,” jay grunts out, his voice the deepest you’ve ever heard it. you can tell he’s just as close as reaching his orgasm as you are. 

you swallow harshly, “i want your cum so bad, jay, please.” your eyebrows are pushed together, like a puppy-dog as you look up at him. “please cum in me— i wanna feel your warm cum inside of me so bad.” 

“oh, fuck,” jay’s stomach jerks harshly in and out, his thrusts not stopping as he fucks into you. you can feel his dick start to twitch inside of you. he still keeps his eyes on you, soaking up the lust yours are packed with. 

“fill me up, jay.” your voice is like a whisper, but it’s all it takes for jay to finally hit his high. 

“fuck, fuck, cum with me, baby, please, please,” jay’s voice is anguished as he begs, his cum starting to spurt out of his cock, painting your walls with white. 

jay’s cock twitching over and over again inside of you and his fingers sloppily rubbing your clit push you to the edge. but the pet name that spills from his lips fully pushes you over. your orgasm hitting just a second after jay begs for you to cum. your moans meet his as your eyes stay glued to each other’s. you can see the pleasure take over his entire face as he lets go inside of you. he does what you begged of him and fills you up with his warm cum. your walls pulsating around him as more of your juices slide around his cock make his orgasm last longer, which he isn’t disappointed with. 

when the final spurt of cum and wave of pleasure washes over jay he plops down on top of you, his cock still lodged inside of you. he lays his head into the crook of your neck and shoulder. you can feel his heavy breath against your neck as he comes down from his high. every few seconds you can feel his cock twitch inside of you still, from the left over pleasure that is coursing through not only his veins, but yours as well. 

neither of you try to move, besides jay’s thumb lazily circling your bare hip bone, soothing you from your orgasm. you’re left staring up at his ceiling, chest still panting, smelling jay’s cologne with a mix of sweat and weed. 

there’s a fluttering feeling in your chest that scares you, but you’re too physically tired to do anything about it. that was the hardest you’ve ever come in your life. it had just ended, yet you’re already trying to replay the entire event in your mind. you don’t want to forget a single detail and you aren’t sure— no, you know,this won’t and shouldn’t happen again. 

you remind yourself that this isn’t romantic. this is chaotic and messy and so utterly selfish it should make you sick. but you don’t move, you stay put underneath jay, under your best friend’s ex boyfriend. you don’t want to move. 

when you wake up in the morning you don’t know where you are for a second. you look around the room, trying to figure out why your bedroom looks so weird. it’s only when your foot hits something next to you that you remember where you are. 

your eyes scan beside you, the white sheet draped over jay’s still naked body as his eyes are closed with his head against the pillow right beside yours. his black bangs are hanging over his forehead, covering the tanned skin that sweat droplets fell from only a few hours before. 

when you laid down last night it was dark out, but now there is clearly sun peeking through jay’s white curtains. you reach over to the nightstand, grabbing your phone and audibly gasping when you see the time. 

fuck. 

you had class in an hour and still had to bring ruby her bag of shit she wanted from jay. the whole reason you even came to his apartment was for your best friend. and now you’re leaving with more reasons to stay away from jay than you had come here with. 

you throw the sheet off your body, your eyes widening when you see that you’re still naked as well. you stand up, trying to remember where your clothes had been. you pick up pieces of clothing from his bedroom floor all the way to the living room, where the PAUSED screen of his video game is still flickering on the tv. you pull back on your shirt and skirt, trying to find where jay had put your shoes. 

“leaving already?” 

you gasp as you turn around, facing his bedroom door where jay leans against the door frame. he has his grey sweatpants back on again, still loose around his hips. you gulp when you remember what is right below them, and how you’ve felt him inside of you, all over you. the memories from last night slamming you at full force now that he stands directly in front of you. your mind starts spiraling as jay just lights a joint in front of you. when he exhales, your eye contact breaks through the grey smoke. 

“um,” you shake your head, trying to get yourself to focus on anything but his toned muscles, “do you know where my shoes are?” 

with the joint in his mouth, jay’s eyes widen in recognition and nods towards the couch, “under the coffee table.” 

you follow and pull out your sneakers, fumbling to slip them on your feet with urgency. you suddenly wanted to leave just as quickly as you wanted to the night before… before jay had persuaded you to stay. saying nothing, you grab the bag of ruby’s stuff and head to the door. 

“y/n,” he calls your name when your hand grips the doorknob. you don’t let go of it as you look over your shoulder at him. he’s still in his place at the bedroom door. he shrugs when he speaks, “don’t overthink it.” 

you stare at each other, and to anyone else it would seem expressionless, meaningless, but you both know what you’re thinking as you look into each other’s eyes: don’t tell ruby.

you pull open his apartment door and slam it behind you, like that would stop anything from following you out.

ruby doesn’t question you much on why you hadn’t answered her texts the night before, which you were relieved for. she was more concerned with what jay had said to you when you showed up and asked for her stuff. if he had told you he missed her, if he was crying, if it smelt like a perfume in his apartment that wasn’t hers. you hoped she hadn’t picked up on your nervous tapping on your desk when she asked the last question. 

when ruby had finally run out of questions about jay she sat back in her seat, pouting as she crossed her arms over her chest. although she had told you she had spent the entire night crying about jay, she looked like she had slept a peaceful nine hours. her makeup and hair looked pristine as always. you, on the other hand, looked like you had been through a trainwreck. your hair felt like it was a knotted mess and you were still wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday. you would so kill for a coffee right now. 

“so, what were you up to last night?” lena looks over at you from her slouched position. the classroom had started to fill with other students, the professor yet to show up. 

you can’t help but basically give yourself whiplash as you turn your head to look at your best friend. your arms instinctively wrap around your body, like you can hide behind them. “um, not much. why?” 

ruby tilts her head at you to be honest, her nose wrinkling upwards, “because it looks like you haven’t showered in a week.” 

your mouth opens to speak, to say literally anything to explain to her about why you look like this. to say any words except for jay. but unfortunately, that’s the only word running circles in your head since an hour ago when you woke up naked beside him in his bed. 

ruby sighs, “please don’t tell me you spent all night on that anthropology paper! i told you to chill out about it, it’s not due for another month!” 

ease washes over you, too much for your liking. you don’t like feeling like this infront of ruby. she was supposed to be your best friend and now it’s like you have to watch everything you say to not let it slip what mistake you had made the night before. 

you sheepishly smile at her, “maybe.” 

ruby rolls her eyes, sitting up now with a playful smile on her lips. “you work too hard.” she shakes her head, “at least put the rat nest of a hair up.” she slips off a scrunchie she had on her wrist, handing it to you. you keep that guilty, sheepish smile on your face as you take it, reaching up to put your hair into a ponytail. 

“oh my god!”

your hands drop to your side at once, “what?” 

“what’s that on your neck?” ruby reaches over and bends your neck so she can see better in the dim classroom lighting, “is that a fucking hickey?” 

your hands fly up to cover the general area she was looking at, brushing her hands off of you. “what? no!” 

ruby’s jaw drops as she looks at you, her eyebrows pulled together in shock, “y/n, that’s a fucking hickey you liar!” 

you stare at your best friend, eyes circling her face as you try to read her expression, trying to think of anything it can be besides a hickey. your hands start to sweat, you can feel it against your neck where they try to hide the bruise that jay had apparently left the night before. you knew you should’ve looked in the mirror before coming straight to school. you thought it would’ve been suspicious to ruby if you were late to class for once. you now realize that this was much worse. 

you feel paralyzed as you stare at ruby, not knowing what to do or say in this situation. you had only hooked up with jay less than twelve hours ago and ruby had already figured it out. you were so fucked, oh my god your friendship is so completely ruin—

“you have a secret crush,” ruby’s face contorts into amusement, her shoulder coming to nudge you, “oh my god, he had you up all night didn’t he?” 

your arms wrap harder around yourself, trying to get yourself to calm down. another crisis adverted. 

“ruby,” you shake your head, turning away from her to sit forward and face the front. your professor had finally come to class, apologizing for being so late today. something about traffic but you couldn’t hear properly with your heartbeat pounding in your ears and ruby leaning over the desk to stare right at you. 

“who is it? come on, tell me! please!” 

“it’s no one ruby, it’s done. it won’t happen again.” you tell her, and it's the full truth you’ve told her all morning. 

ruby doesn’t like your answer, pouting and slouching back into her seat as she stares straight ahead at the professor setting up the powerpoint for the lecture today. the lights turn off in the classroom, the only light being the projector. 

“it’s fine i guess,” ruby mumbles, quieter now as the professor begins to introduce the topic for the day. “at least i don’t have to find people to hook up with you, now that you can do it on your own.” 

you glance over at ruby, her face is expressionless as she stares straight ahead. when she meets your gaze a smile spreads on her face which you mirror and then turn to focus on opening your notebook. 

ruby’s words sit with you for the rest of the day. like it had been some awful burden to her to find someone to hook up with you. like you had begged her to do. like it was so hard to find some desperate guy to hook up with poor y/n. even though you know it's wrong, you can’t help but picture ruby’s face if she found out what had really happened last night.

ruby and jay’s “disagreements” (what ruby calls their fights) usually only last a few days before their tongues are down each other’s throats again and you’re struggling to get a second of ruby’s attention. but this time, it’s been a week since jay had stormed out of the party and given ruby all her shit back. 

if you hadn’t hooked up with jay a week ago, you wouldn’t be so worried. you know ruby is slowly transcending into an emotional hurricane by the second. one minute she’s laughing saying she’s a “free woman” and then the next she’s crying on your lap asking you what she had done wrong. 

the worst part is that you think ruby is picking up on your anxiety. she keeps looking at you with her pleading eyes to tell her the “truth”— that jay will call her back and he’s just being petty right now, but you can tell she sees right through your reassurance. 

ruby was always such an emotional chaotic mess that she needed your stability. you needed to hold her still. and you didn’t mind doing it, but now that that stability is wary it’s only creating an even worse feeling for the both of you.  

you don’t like lying to your best friend, but you can’t help but feel like the moment you had with jay the week before was the first and only time someone had seen you for yourself. like you didn’t need to be with ruby in order for someone to even briefly glance at you. like you had a voice of your own. 

it made you question your entire decade long friendship with ruby more than you ever had in your life. it scared you but the feeling in your chest like you were hiding something grew bigger every day, and it wasn’t just because you were hiding the fact that you hooked up with jay. it was because you felt like you were hiding a part of yourself from everyone. a part of yourself that you felt like you consciously suppressed in order to let ruby shine. 

but the thing was, you realize now that you wanted to shine too. 

today was monday, which meant that ruby, the only one in your friendship that had a car, had cheerleading practice. it usually wasn’t a problem for you, even though you would have to constantly hear about how sore her legs were afterwards. but today, it was raining as soon as you stepped foot outside your university’s doors. the pavement was already a dark grey from how long and hard it had been raining. 

you have no other option but to put your headphones on and start walking home since your other, more dry option was at cheerleading practice for another hour and a half. 

it didn’t take long for your hair to become drenched and stick to your face. you could feel your socks becoming little puddles in your shoes with every step and you hadn’t even properly made it off of school property. 

car headlights turn the corner behind you and when you glance over you see a familiar black bmw pull up the curb beside you. it felt like a punch in the chest when the window rolled down to reveal the face that you had thought about every single day this past week. his eyebrows were furrowed in concern as he shouts at you, “what are you doing?” 

it takes a second for you to realize that you’re not dreaming, that jay is actually in front of you, “walking.” you sound dumb, like you have never spoken to someone before in your entire life. 

you see him roll his eyes through the harsh rain, “get in.” 

your body starts to walk before your mind is aware, almost drawn to him subconsciously, or you just really wanted to get out of the rain. 

you hop in the passenger seat of the car that you’ve been in before. jay has picked you and ruby up to go to a party or some other thing multiple times before. but you had always sat in the back, watching him and your best friend either hold hands over the centre console or fight until they're both red in the face as you pull up to the destination. it was like you were in ruby’s territory— again.

now that it was just you and jay in the car, it was definitely the most quiet it’s been in here with him. 

jay’s dry laugh distracts you from the silent comparing, “you’re fucking drenched.” he reaches over to blast the heat, turning all the vents towards you. “do you want to get pneumonia or?” 

“no, of course not. ruby’s just at cheer so, i didn’t really have a choice.” you explain yourself, but you catch the way jay’s whole body tenses at the mention of your best friends’ name. jay turns his eyes to face the road again and his amused smirk drops from his face. 

“so, you going home?” 

“yeah,” you nod and jay takes his foot off the break, pulling away from the curb in the pouring rain. the windshield wipers are working at a fast pace and the heat blasting is working overtime to keep you from catching a cold. you can still feel droplets of rain falling from the strands of your hair onto your hands. 

the sound of the rain relentlessly hitting the car and the heater blasting is enough to make it less awkward than it should be in the car with him. you feel almost pathetic. you had thought about him all week— all the things you wished you could’ve said to him the last time you had seen him. but now, that you’re actually with him in his car— alone, you’re silent. all you can think about really is how loud and fast your heartbeat is going. you hope he doesn’t hear it. 

you hope that he just assumes that you’re sick, like the rain had actually gotten to you and has given you a cardiac emergency and that’s why your chest feels like it’s about to explode. that the feeling is definitely from that and not the fact that he’s so close to you right now.  

“why haven’t you texted ruby, yet?” you speak before you can stop yourself. 

jay scoffs, “i have nothing to say to her,” he turns his head to look at you, his eyes serious and steady, “and i don’t want to talk about her. especially not when i’m with you.” 

your head snaps to look out the passenger side window, like the rain droplets covering the entire window have somehow become more interesting to look at than jay. you hope it hides the fact that your eyes widened almost cartoon-like at his words. what does he mean by that? though, you do agree with him. you don’t want to talk about your best friend when you’re with him. it feels wrong but so good at the same time. you want to stay here just a bit longer to figure out what is the right thing here— the good thing. 

in your peripheral vision you can see jay glance over you once, and then twice before he speaks, “you know,” he starts in his usual confident tone, the one that you wish you had, “you don’t have to do all that, good girl, shit with me.” he says “good girl” like it tastes bad in his mouth to say. like he’s repulsed. 

you look at him, keeping your face expressionless as some defense mechanism. 

“you don’t have to pretend, just be you.” 

“what?” 

jay narrows his eyes, “you know what i’m talking about, y/n.” 

it’s your turn to go stiff. is it really that obvious how you feel? then why is jay the only person to ever be able to really tell what you’re feeling? without even saying anything he knows what you’re thinking. he sees right through you. it scares you to be honest. how long has he been able to do this? 

“you make it sound like it’s so easy,” you place your palms flat against your soaking wet jeans, trying to distract yourself— letting the sweat that piled up in them soak into the rain stained fabric. 

jay cocks his head, confusion obvious on his face, “because it is?” his voice comes out slow, like he’s trying to process your words still, trying to understand you. you keep your gaze fixated on the window beside you. your lack of response makes him scoff. “you don’t have to pretend with me, y/n.” 

you hate that everytime he says your name a shock spirals down your spine. you wish that you could so easily not pretend with him. like you could rip off that mask you put on when you’re around everyone else— the mask that you weren’t even properly aware of until recently. yet, jay seems like he’s known of that mask forever. he knows that you’ve been shrinking yourself to fit into ruby’s shadow. but he must understand that it’s hard when you’ve spent your entire life doing that— being the calm and reasonable one to the girl that’s known as a chaotic, out of control mess that’s always the centre of attention. you swallow harshly at the thought of being unmasked around jay— like maybe he won’t even like you as much as he thinks he does. 

before you can mentally spiral more, jay is pulling up the curb outside of your apartment building. part of you is relieved to get out of this car where you feel so exposed, but the other part is wishing you’d do what jay is telling you to— to be yourself, to stay in this car longer like you really want to. 

you glance at jay briefly before your fingers wrap around the car door handle, ready to push it open and jump out. 

“why do you always look at me like you’re trying to not want me?” 

jay’s voice stops you, your body frozen as you face away from him, completely turned to the passenger side door to get out of here. but his words hit you like a truck— because it’s true and no one has actually voiced a thought you had thought about so many times before. you take a deep breath and turn your head over your shoulder to face him, still trying to keep your face expressionless, as if that’s gonna deter him in any way. 

jay’s hand lands on top of yours that’s resting on the centre console, like his hand is going to keep you there for longer. “if you want me y/n, then say it. show me who you are, what you really want.” 

your heart literally feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. you want to say it so bad— that you do want him, and that you’ve wanted him for a while, even if that makes you a terrible friend. your fingers twitch under his hand, thinking about what you should do. what would you really do in this situation? 

fuck it. 

before you can mentally talk yourself out of it and hide in the shell that you’ve created for yourself, you lean over the centre console and push your lips onto jay’s. he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back. his lips latch onto yours and pull you closer to him. your hand drops from the car handle, turning your entire body to him. jay doesn’t think twice about slipping his hands under your sweater, cupping your breasts. he doesn’t mind that your skin is cold and wet against him. you’re body is chasing his to get warm and to feel like you’re understood and seen, if only for a few minutes. 

“take off your pants,” jay speaks against your lips, pulling away for a second to look at you before he smashes his lips back onto yours. “now.” 

you kiss him more time before you practically force yourself to stop. your hands shake with anticipation as you unbutton your rain-soaked pants and slide them off your legs onto the car floor. jay helps you take off your heavy and wet sweater, tossing it on the floor with your pants into one soggy pile that neither of you can care about right now. 

“want your lips on my cock,” jay confesses, almost desperate as his gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, already swollen from kissing him. 

without thinking twice, your hands reach down to his jeans, unbuttoning them quickly. you hear him chuckle dryly as he watches your hands move swiftly, wanting to free his cock just as much as he wanted you to. 

you pull his warm cock out of his pants, the veins starting to protrude as his cock hardens. 

“spit on it,” he tells you, pushing your head down over his cock. you do as he says, pursing your lips to let a glob of spit land right onto his cock. he hisses at the feeling of it. jay wraps his hand around his cock, keeping his eyes on you as he starts to jerk it, using your spit and half naked body to get him hard enough for you to take him into your mouth. 

you get on your knees on the passenger seat to lean over jay’s lap to be able to fully get his cock stuffed into your mouth. jay glances around outside once to make sure no one’s around, but it’s dark out and it’s pouring rain and his tinted windows are enough for people to not see much of anything with this weather. 

you lean down and slide his cock into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat, causing jay to groan out at once as he stares down at where his cock disappears. you wrap your hand around the base of his cock that doesn’t fit into your mouth, making your hand work in sync with your mouth as you start to bob up and down. 

“fuck, that’s it.” jay groans above you. he grabs a handful of your hair in his hand, making a makeshift ponytail for you and him so he can get a better view of you. the car is filled with the faint sound of the heat running and slurping from your mouth working his cock in and out of your mouth. 

your lips suckle on his tip, making his hips buck up from the seat below him. you keep your eyes closed as you focus on making him feel good. you hollow your cheeks, letting the soft, inner skin of them massage around his cock as you shove the tip further and further into the back of your throat. 

“that’s good, oh god,” jay groans out above you. he brings his fingers to mouth, spitting on them before he reaches over behind you and pushes your panties to the side, wetting your pussy with his spit before he shoves two of his fingers inside you. you whimper around his cock at the sensation, making him buck up into your mouth again, wanting more of you. 

jay’s fingers start to slowly push in and out of your pussy, warming you up for his cock that he plans on stuffing you with soon. yet he doesn’t want to distract you from your mouth work on his cock. 

you keep bobbing your head up and down his cock, your spit covering his entire cock and dribbling down onto his balls. you’ve successfully gotten him hard and needy with every vein in his cock protruding. the top of his cock red and slick with not only your spit, but his pre cum that tastes like salt but sweet on your tongue. 

“fuck okay, get in the back.” jay pulls your head up off of his cock, letting go of your makeshift ponytail. you start to climb into the back seat, laughing when jay smacks your ass. jay crawls after you, sitting down on the seat and he pulls his jeans and boxers off of his legs before he pulls you over top of him to straddle him. your knees are on either side of his lap, resting on the leather seats of his bmw. 

you sit up on your knees, letting jay align his cock with your pussy, pushing your panties to the side again to make room. jay teases your weeping pussy with the head of his cock, gathering more of your juices to slide right in. he holds onto your waist as you slide yourself down onto his cock— both of you groaning out into the car as his cock reaches your cervix. your eyes roll to the back of your head as you take his cock at this angle. 

you move your hair out of your face before you lean over jay’s chest, keeping your head above his as you start to rock your hips back and forth. jay keeps his hands on your ass, squeezing the skin there as he helps you set a pace. 

“this good?” he asks you, wanting to make sure you were okay with this position. 

“god, yes,” 

jay smirks before he starts to lift you up over his cock before moving your hips back down, taking his cock fully back inside of you. he’s completely dominating, controlling when and how your hips move over his cock. like he’s using your pussy to get off. 

your hands land on the top of the car seat behind jay’s hand, holding yourself up so let jay use your pussy to make both of you feel good. he starts shoving you down his cock harder, the skin where your pussy and cock meet slapping and filling the car. your moans start to pick up the faster and harder he drops your hips back down over his cock. the tip of his cock jabbing your g spot every time from this angle. 

“fuck, wait,” jay gasps out as he keeps you still over his cock, holding your waist as he moves to lay sideways across the back car seats, using the door to keep him upright. you move to keep your feet against the seats now to hold you up instead of your bent knees. you’re hovering over him with his cock still lodged deep inside of you. “there, you have more room now.” 

you smile down at him sweetly before kissing him, your lips brushing against each other hungrily. jay keeps alternating his hands from your waist and ass, gripping your skin roughly. you start using the seat below your feet to help bounce yourself up and down on his cock. 

“oh god,” you moan out, your hand landing on the cool window by jay’s head. you find it hard to keep your lips off of jay’s. both of you moaning into each other’s mouths as you fuck yourself down onto his cock. 

your clit is rubbing against his lower abdomen every time you bounce and it only edges you on further, despite the burning feeling in your knees already. 

“fuck, that’s it,” jay encourages you, keeping his eyes locked onto you as he watches you bounce on his cock. his hand lands hard on your ass, making you squeal as you keep riding him. “show me how bad you can be, baby.” you moan out at his words, the burning in your stomach growing as you want to prove to him that you’re more than just a good girl— that you’re more than what ruby portrays you as. 

with the fuel that’s being added, you push back away from jay, your body and elbows landing onto the centre console behind you. your legs are wrapped around jay’s waist as he still sits on the backseat, but your body is laying back, using the centre console as a platform to hold your back up. 

jay groans as he grabs your waist, your pussy out on display for him now that your knees are bent and wrapped around his waist. he can see your folds glistening and wet and suctioning his cock in. your clit is enlarged and throbbing, just begging for him to do something about it. 

you push your shirt up so your breasts are revealed, your nipples perked and hard from the cold rain. jay doesn’t waste a second and reaches out, grabbing a hold of them. “fuck, i love your tits.” his voice is husky now as he stares right at them, massaging them in his hands, “most perfect tits i’ve ever seen.” you moan out, your hips rolling over his cock, wanting him to move. he smirks at your desperation, but does what you want. he starts to fuck his cock into you now having the perfect view of your pussy, tits and face. 

“oh god, that feels so good,” you groan out, your eyes rolling as his cock fills you up again and again. jay’s eyes can’t stay in one place for long, scanning all over your body as his hips slide back and forth. you’re on display for him in the backseat of his car where you’re his complete centre of attention. 

jay spits on his fingers again before he smears it on your clit, wetting it more so his thumb can rub perfect circles over it. “fuck!” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as jay increases the pleasure you’re feeling. 

“yeah, baby? you like this?” jay nods at you, “like being fucked in my car? where anyone walking past can see you.” 

“mm, yeah, i love it.” 

jay smirks down at you, “yeah? you want people to see you spread out for me, showing me your wet fucking pussy?”

“y-yes, god it’s so wet, jay.” 

“fuck, baby i know, i know,” jay grits his teeth as he focuses on the feeling of your wet walls squeezing around him, letting his cock fuck up into them, stretching them out. “only sluts get this wet at the thought of people seeing them. is that what you are? a slut?”

jay’s cock is fucking so far into you, his ass is above the seat so he can get his full cock into you every single time he thrusts forward. he keeps one hand on your nipple, squeezing and tweaking it whilst his other hand rubs circles into your clit. he’s working your entire body as your pussy fucking sucks him in, massaging his cock and milking him, just begging for him to cum. 

when you don’t answer his hand on your nipple smacks your face, making you look up at him, making eye contact with him. his and your eyes match— they’re both filled with lust and need and desperation. “answer me— are.” jay fucks hard into you with every word, “you. a fucking. slut?” 

“yes!” you cry out, “oh god yes! i’m a slut— just for you, i’m your fucking slut.” your elbows on the centre console drop as you lean your back and head back so your head is basically in the front seat again. your hands grab your breasts, massaging them and pinching your nipples so hard for the pleasure to shoot down your body. 

“oh fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” jay grunts out, his hands grabbing your waist, fucking into you harder and harder as he watches your hands play with yourself as your head stays thrown back on the centre console, completely consumed in the pleasure. 

jay leans over and spits directly onto your pussy, making you moan out at how easy his cock slips inside of you now mixed with his warm spit. your legs are completely spread for him, your one foot on the door whilst the other one is spread across the back seat. you look and feel like such a whore for him, just for him. 

he reaches over your body, your hands interlocking over your breast as your and his hands squeeze it together. it’s a sense of intimacy as you hold hands whilst he pounds into you. it only fuels the desire you have for him— to prove to him that you aren’t some good girl that might break. 

jay’s car is filled with both of your moans, feeding off of the pleasure you’re both giving each other. “fuck you’re pussy is so tight,” jay groans out, like it’s truly unbelievable how tight your pussy is wrapping around him. like it’s enticing him to fuck you hard and faster until you’re screaming out for him. 

“choke me,” you moan out, voice desperate and airy as you look up at him. 

jay does what you ask of him, his hand wrapping around your neck tightly, blocking your airway from breathing correctly. “like this, slut? you like it like this?” 

“y-yes,” you manage to moan out, your eyes locked with his as his hand is wrapped around your neck. 

jay groans out at the sight before him, “god you’re so hot,” 

you smile at him through the pleasure and the lack of air reaching your brain. you can only focus on jay right now. the way he’s panting and moaning as he fucks into you. the sweat that’s dripping around his head as the car gets warmer and warmer with both of your heavy breathing plus the heat is still on from when you first got into his car. the windows around you are fogged up, you can barely see outside of them. the air is filled with the smell of sweat and sex and jay’s cologne. 

“fuck, c’mere,” jay lets go of your neck and instead pulls you up against him by wrapping his hands around your back. he sits up against the back of the seat and wraps you around his lap so you’re straddling him again. your hands grab onto the head rest behind him as he presses you chest to chest with him. 

you whine when you feel his shirt’s fabric against your half naked chest, “take this off.” your hands pull on the bottom hem of his shirt. jay snickers under his breath but does what you want, pulling the shirt off of himself, leaving him completely naked underneath you. 

you don’t stop yourself from dragging your hands down his bare chest, warm and firm under your touch. you think back to all the times you had seen him shirtless, walking around ruby’s apartment or all the times you went to the beach together. how every time you saw him you wanted to rub your fingers over his skin, familiarize yourself with all his moles and textures. and now that you’re actually able to, you don’t know how you can ever not touch him. 

jay grips your wrists suddenly, pulling them back behind him so your arms wrapped around his neck and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug as he shifts his hips underneath you slightly, causing his cock to brush against your gspot again. before you can complain that he’s been still for too long, he starts to pull out of you just to pump back into you over and over again. he sets a steady pace, pushing his hips up from the seat so he can fuck up into you. 

your arms stay interlocked with one another around his neck, your forehead leaning onto his as he fucks you. you keep your eyes on his as he stares up at you. his usual light brown eyes are dark and slanted as he grimaces from the pleasure. 

jay keeps you tight against him, chest to chest, as he fucks you hard. you’re forced to stay still and take it. his bmw is filled with the sounds of your moans and skin slapping roughly. everytime he groans underneath you your pussy clamps harder around his cock, encouraging him to keep going. and jay doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. 

jay’s not an idiot. he’s been aware that you’re hot, but he’s been aware that you’re ruby’s best friend. which strictly meant off limits in the dating world. but now that he’s pretty much done with ruby right now and you’re more than ready to take his cock, he doesn’t care about rules. the way your pussy grips his cock is enough for him to not stop. 

jay unlocks you from his trapped hug, letting you have space between your bodies. he doesn’t waste a second before he’s leaning forward to wrap his lips around your breasts. he sucks on them and bites them, coating them in his saliva that leaves your skin cold from the air when he pulls away. 

“c’mon, keep going,” jay slaps your ass, “bounce on my cock like the whore you are.” 

you moan out in response but brace yourself on your knees as you start to bounce up and down on his cock. it feels so good and the pleasure has been boiling in your body and your need and lust for jay has been suppressed for so long that you start bouncing feverishly. you’ve wanted jay for so long, and you know it’s wrong but now that you’ve had him not only once, but twice… you don’t know how once this is over you will be able to stop yourself from going back for thirds. 

because jay obviously makes you feel physically good— his cock hits all the right spots inside you, his fingers rub circles on your clit that have you mewling out and his complete attention on you when you fuck has you spiraling. but jay also makes you feel seen. and that’s something that you’ve always wanted. being with jay feels different from being with anyone you’ve ever met. and that’s dangerous. 

you put both of your hands on his shoulders for leverage as you start to ride his cock faster. he keeps his hands on your waist to help hold you steady, his eyes are entrained on you as he watches you work your way up and down his cock. your hair is becoming a mess as you fuck yourself faster and faster on his cock. your jaw stays agape as you feel his cock slide in and out of you, your juices and his saliva making your core a complete mess. 

“shit,” jay moans out, his eyes looking down at where your bodies connect, watching you bounce on him so desperately. he knows you want him to feel good, that you’ll do anything for him to cum, and it only makes the knot in his stomach tighten more. “that’s it baby, ride me like that. ride your best friend’s ex until you cum.” 

“oh god,” your grip on his shoulders tightens at his mention of ruby. the guilt and shame you feel only add to the pleasure as you glide your pussy up and down his cock over and over again. there’s sweat dripping down your forehead in the cramped backseat of his car. 

jay’s hand meets your face, slapping you so you look at him. he grips your jaw, keeping your head still as his fingers sink into your cheek’s flesh that he just smacked, “you think people would still think you’re an innocent good girl if they saw you right now, hm?” jay’s voice is dark and husky when he speaks. “the way you’re so desperate to bounce on my cock?” 

“n-no,” you whine out, your hair half fallen into your face, sticking to your forehead from your sweat. 

“and why not?” 

“b-because i’m a slut.” 

jay’s hand slaps your face one more time, “that’s right, you’re a fucking slut.” 

before you can fully comprehend it, jay is pushing you off of his lap, his cock sliding out of you. he pushes you down onto the seat next to him, your face and chest flush on to the seat. he moves so he’s kneeling behind you, pulling your hips up in the air so your pussy and ass are on complete display for him. your ass is pink from his hands slapping and gripping the flesh. your pussy is stretched and agape as it tries to clamp down around nothing. 

“ah fuck, look at this pussy,” jay groans out as he reaches his fingers down to the flesh. you jolt as he touches your swollen and red lips, covered in your juices in a complete mess. “it’s so swollen, so needy and pathetic.” 

“mhm,” you nod your head against the leather seat as you look back over your shoulder at him. 

jay glances at your face, pulling his lips into a smirk, “yeah? you’re pathetic and needy for me? for my cock?” 

“yes, jay,” you’re quick to agree with him, because it’s true. “i need you so bad, please.” you wiggle your hips back, trying to get him to put his cock back inside of you. 

you hear him curse under his breath one more time before both of his hands come down onto your ass, making you jolt forward with a cry as he spanks you again. the pain only adds to the pleasure you feel in the pit of your stomach. 

before you can complain and beg for his cock again, jay forces his cock back into your hole. you’re so wet that it slides in so, so easily. he’s stretched you out perfectly. like his cock fits exactly in your pussy. 

jay grabs your waist from behind, holding you still as he starts to ram his cock in and out of you from behind. you put one of your hands on the car door above your head so you don’t hit your head. a cry escapes your lips as his cock starts to hit your gspot from a new angle. it feels even better somehow. 

everytime he slides his hard cock back into you his soaked balls slap against your clit. the noise your bodies make every time they meet is so ludicrous, straight out of a porno. 

“is this what you wanted, baby? for me to fuck you like the real slut you are?” jay asks from behind you, his voice rough as he demands an answer from you.

“f-fuck yes!” you cry back, your eyes straining to remain open as he fucks you harder and harder, your body jolting forward everytime his hips meet yours. 

“say it then,” jay’s hand hits your already red ass cheek again, “say you want to be fucked like a slut.” 

“i- i want to be fucked like a slut, like y-your slut.”

you hear jay groan at your words, his pace picking up speed as he drills his cock in and out of your sopping pussy. both of you can feel your warm walls start to become sporadic around his cock. your desperation for him showing as your pussy sucks him back in everytime he fucks back into you. it’s getting harder and harder for jay to even pull back out from how tight and warm and wet your walls are around him. it’s like truly heaven for him. 

“fuck, you’re such a whore for me,” jay groans out, “the way your pussy is fucking dripping, so fucking messy.” 

you can only moan harder in response, your lungs filling with pleasure as he fucks into you at just the perfect pace and intensity. it’s all you ever wanted from him. you can’t remember all of the times you’ve thought about him fucking you like this, rough and needy and risky. there’s so much on the line right now, if anyone walked too close to his car right now, if ruby somehow found out. the risk only makes your pussy burn more for his cock. 

you can’t take it much longer anymore and you slip your hand in between your body and the car seat, your fingers landing on your swollen, wet clit and start rubbing circles on it, bringing yourself closer to the edge. you hear jay chuckle darkly behind you as he keeps up his drilling pace. he reaches over your back, his hand cupping the back of your neck so it’s pinned against the car seat below you, trapping your head from moving and decreasing the amount of oxygen to your brain once again. your eyes roll to the back of your head, the pleasure taking over your body everywhere with jay’s scent surrounding you. 

“yeah, that’s it,” jay’s voice is breathless by your ear as he hovers over your back, his chest pressed into you, “make yourself cum on my cock, baby, please,”

jay’s plead for you to cum sends you spiraling and it only takes a few more thrusts of his cock to send you over the edge, finally. you feel like you’ve been holding back your orgasm since he first slid his cock into you. that’s how much power he has over you. just a simple touch from jay can send one million shocks of pleasure through you at a time. 

your body felt like it was on fire as the orgasm ripped through you. your scream fills the car and you hope no one is walking out in the rain beside the car right now. your pussy clamps down tight around jay’s cock as you cum, getting wetter as your juices drip around his cock delved deep inside of you. 

“fuck, baby that’s it.” jay groans out as he feels your pussy around his sensitive cock. your pussy feels like velvet to him and he doesn’t know much longer he can last. 

with your body still shaking from adrenaline and pleasure, jay rips his cock out of you. your body is weak and limp and he rolls you over so you’re on your back and facing him. 

“please let me cum on your face, please baby,” jay’s eyes are pleading as his hand starts to stroke his cock fast, his cock soaked in your juices. 

“please,” you whimper out, mind still hazy but you sit up your elbows to watch him, “please cum jay, i want to taste your cum so bad.” your eyebrows are furrowed together as you look up at him. “make a mess of my face, please.” 

your begging for his cum is enough for him as he lets out a loud grunt before strings of warm, white cum come out of his red tip and land all over your face. there are strands by your lips, your cheek and one singular one on your forehead. you moan out at the feeling of his warm cum on your face. like he’s marked his territory on you. 

jay’s hand slows down it’s movements on his cock as no more cum comes out, his whole chest is heaving from his high. 

“oh fuck,” he grunts out. his body is weak but he leans down and presses his lips onto yours harshly for a quick second before pulling back to look at the mess he made on your face. “you look so hot.” 

you can’t help but giggle at his compliment. you feel wet and sticky and sore everywhere, but the way jay is looking at you keeps you awake and alert. no one has ever looked at you the way jay is looking at you right now. like you’re the centre of the universe to him. 

jay reaches out and swipes each strand of his cum off of your dewy skin before he tells you to “open”. he shoves his fingers of cum into your mouth. you wrap your lips around his fingers as you moan at the taste of his salty cum filling your mouth. your tongue circles his fingers, wanting to get every last drop of cum off of his fingers. 

when you’re done he takes them out of your mouth, keeping a soft smile on his lips before he leans back down over you, kissing you again. he moans into the kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. you let his tongue explore your mouth for a while even though your knees and ass cheeks are sore. if it means that you’ll be close to jay for longer than you don’t care about the pain. 

jay reaches to the floor of his car and picks up his shirt to wipe down your legs and core. you laugh when he wipes your face off of any remaining cum. it feels intimate and normal to laugh with each other whilst naked. 

jay fumbles around for an extra sweater he can put on and slips his jeans back on before he gives you your own clothes. he opens the backdoor and steps out into the rain for a second when you start fixing your shirt and pulling your jeans back on just to get in the driver's seat again. jay reaches over the centre console to pick up your bag and wet clothes before he tosses them to you in the back seat. 

“you good?” jay turns to the back to look at you, he has a light, amused look on his face. 

“yeah, i’m good.” you respond softly, pushing your messy hair behind your ear. 

jay smiles at you, “you should go, before someone sees.” 

his words make your fake world shatter as reality sets back in. that this isn’t the fantasy land where you’re dating jay and aren’t some little good girl that does everything ruby says. that everything that just happened in this car is just between you and jay. a secret. 

“okay,” you can’t help how weak your voice goes, physically drained from the sex but emotionally hurt. 

“i’ll text you,” jay nods, like he’s promising that he won’t forget you, and that there’ll be more. 

you repeat your soft okay, pulling your bag over your shoulder as you step out of the backseat and out into the rain that hasn’t calmed down since he parked. you close the car door gently, like you’re scared any loud movements would pull you out of your fantasyland even sooner. 

you lightly jog up to your building’s door, the rain cold on your arms. jay doesn’t wait for you to get inside, his car is already turning onto another street by the time you look back to the road. 

when you’re done showering, cleaning off all the substances off your body and warming up from the rain, you can’t help but think about jay. you stare at your blurry reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror as you brush your teeth. how long will this thing between you and jay last for? 

you spit and put your toothbrush down, leaning on the palms of your hands over the sink as you stare at yourself. your mind is becoming tangled with jay and you and ruby. you know that you shouldn’t want jay as much as you do, that if ruby ever found out… it would ruin the best friendship you’ve ever had. 

but jay is involved, too. you think jay must want you, too, even a little. it’s just does he want more than sex with you, or does he want exactly what you want? you want to call him yours, and no one else's. you want more than secret sex that is only kept between you two. 

it’s wrong to think of your best friend’s boyfri— ex boyfriend like this, and you know it. but you can’t help the feeling that rushes through you when you think about the way he says your name, or when he calls you baby. you can’t help that all your nerves in your skin feel like they’re on fire when he touches you. or that he makes you feel understood and real. he’s the only person in this world that makes you feel like you’re worth something more than just ruby’s shadow. 

and it just so happens that he’s ruby’s ex boyfriend… you hope it can stay just between you and jay, at least just for a while.

although you were a health science major and jay was in finance, you both managed to have classes in the same buildings at your university. jay used to walk you and ruby to your classes before going off to his. he used to hold the door for you and ruby, always pressing a kiss into her cheek as she followed you into the classroom. 

but now that it’s been two weeks since jay and ruby have spoken (a world record), it’s you holding the classroom door for a depressed ruby, whose shoulders are always slack as she plops down into her seat. ruby used to be like the campus’ ray of sunshine. you always found it hard to have a conversation with her in the hallways because people would always be cutting in to talk to ruby. everyone on campus knew her. but now, there was a dark grey storm cloud over her head that would deter people away from her. 

before, it ruby’s head would always be on the lookout for jay, trying to catch a glimpse of him in the hallways before class until he’d come up behind her and link his arms around her waist. you’d always avert your eyes to their pda. it always caused a sinking feeling in your stomach that you just couldn’t ignore. 

ruby still looks for the jay in the hallways, but instead of longing for him she hides away. 

“tell me if you see that asshole, y/n.” ruby whispers to you on your way to physiology class, her head ducked down to your ear as she links her elbow with yours. 

you sigh, “ruby, are you really still hiding from him?” you give her an incredulous look. “it’s not like he’s gonna bite you or anything.” 

“ugh, i wish he would.” ruby shakes her head as she keeps her eyes forward. she misses the way you cringe at her words, unable to help the memory of the way jay’s teeth bite down on your inner thigh that gets forced into your mind. “at least then he’d acknowledge me somehow.” 

“still no text from him?” 

“no, not even a like on my insta.” 

you’ve seen ruby sulk before— like last summer there was a 50-50 chance if she’d be ecstatic or depressed every other day when her and jay were going through another one of their “rough patches”. but those moods never lasted as long as this one has. it’s gotten to the point that you’re seeing different sides of your best friend that you hadn’t even known existed. ruby has become more desperate and clingy. you hadn’t realized before how much her mood is affected by her relationship with jay. it’s like she’s fragile. 

“yo, jay!” a male voice calls from behind you. you feel ruby freeze beside you as you both see park wonbin behind you, coming closer as he keeps his gaze locked in the hallway in front of you— obviously searching for someone. 

“shit!” ruby lets out a sharp hiss before she darts into the girls’ washroom, leaving you standing alone in the hallway. 

you watch park wonbin walk straight past you, much like everyone else does when ruby isn’t with you. “jay, bro, where have you been?” wonbin continues, his hand reaching up as he aims to dab jay up who stands right in front of him now. 

you can’t help the way your chest tightens when you see that jay is fully turned in your direction, but his eyes don’t even flicker your way— they stay on wonbin. jay’s lips (that you’ve become pretty familiar with) upturn into his usual smirk as he meets wonbin. 

if jay turns his eyes to the right just a little bit he’d be able to see you. please. you mentally beg him to look at you. for him to acknowledge your presence in this busy hallway where you stand by yourself. 

“sorry, i slept in.” you hear him reply to wonbin, nudging wonbin’s shoulder away from him with his fist. 

“up late again last night,” you don’t see wonbin’s face but by the sound of his voice you can tell that it’s scrunched up into a playful tease. “who’d you fuck this time?” 

jay rolls his eyes, turning away from you as he starts to walk further down the hall with wonbin, “shut up, bin.” 

there’s like an elastic band wrapped around jay and your heart, and the further he walks down the hall, the smaller his head gets in  your vision before he turns the corner, the more the elastic band threatens to break. it’s squeezing so tight, fully stretched out until it snaps completely when he’s out of sight. but only your heart is affected, it gets hit from the elastic so hard it stings in your chest.

people keep walking past you in the hallway, weaving around you to not hit you, but they don’t look at you. no, they don’t look at you the way they look at ruby if she was in your position right now. and maybe that’s good for you, or else they’d be able to see the yearning that’s in your eyes as you stare at the last place you saw jay. 

a sudden hit to your shoulder has you breaking out of your trance. 

“oh! i’m so sorry!” a blonde girl puts her hand out to you to apologize, but she doesn’t wait for you to say anything, she keeps walking down the hall with the rest of her friends. 

you take it as a sign that you should go check up on ruby in the bathroom instead of waiting around, hoping for jay park to turn around. 

there’s no one in the girls’ bathroom except for ruby who stands at the mirror, wiping underneath her eyes to rub away the fallen mascara. you can tell she’s been crying when she looks at you. 

“did you see him?” ruby rushes her question out, her eyes wide. “did he say anything to you?” 

“no, he didn’t see me, he just kept walking with wonbin.” 

ruby’s eyes and lips frown at your response, turning back to the mirror to fix her makeup. you lean against the sink counter, watching her gently. 

“he didn’t even glance over?” 

you shake your head no. 

ruby lets out a bitter laugh as he stares at you through the mirror reflection. “you should’ve said something.” 

your eyebrows furrowed together, “said what?” 

“i don’t know, y/n!” ruby’s hands flare at her sides, “something! anything! for once.” 

you take a step back from her, not liking her anger that is obviously rising. “are you really gonna keep dong this, ruby?” 

“doing what?” she turns to face you, arms crossed over her chest as she stares down at you. 

“acting like there’s something i could’ve done to prevent jay from ignoring you.” 

you see red flash through ruby’s eyes quickly— but her expression fades just as quick. she drops her arms, looking at herself once more in the mirror. 

“whatever. we should get to class,” she mutters under her breath, walking past you to the door without looking back. 

you wait a second before following her.

you hadn’t been able to focus reading your textbook the past week since your apartment building was under construction, something about weak pipes on the roof. which meant that from morning to late afternoon all you could hear was relentless banging and drilling as the construction workers fixed the pipes. 

you really needed to get this week’s chapter read for your medical terminology class tomorrow though since your professor has spontaneously started giving pop quizzes for each chapter every week. and since ruby has basically been M.I.A after your physiology class a few days ago you can’t ask to study at her place. 

which leaves you to study at the campus library. 

you didn’t mind the campus library. you use to sit in the library for hours during your first year when your and ruby’s schedules barely lined up. you’d wait for her and jay to come find you after class, pulling you away from your study session to get you to go to some lame party with them. the librarians used to love you since you were always so quiet and didn’t cause any mayhem like a lot of the other students that would come in there. they used to greet you with a smile every time you’d walk in the door with your hands full of textbooks and paper. though, you remember the scowl on their face every time they’d see ruby and jay walk in to come get you. ruby never understood why everyone has to be quiet in a public library. 

you were halfway through the skeletal system chapter with your headphones in and hair pulled into a claw clip to keep your hair out of your face, when sudden warm fingers spread across the back of your exposed neck. 

you jolt upward, your hand flying to your neck as check behind you— catching the eyes of jay who walked behind you, a playful smirk on his face as he looks over his shoulder as he keeps walking past. he’s in a group with his friends, none of them aware of you or that jay had touched you. 

you can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips as you look at him, your bottom lip being caught in between your teeth as you try to mask the shyness that takes over you. jay winks at you before he turns back to his friends, all of them retreating to the far back of the library, out of yours and the librarians view. 

your hand stays on the back of your neck where jay had touched you. the nerves on the skin still tingling as you can feel where each one of his fingers had grazed you. your stomach felt like it had exploded with butterflies at the innocent touch. 

but it was more than that. 

sure, he hadn’t stopped to talk to you, but he had seen you. which is more than you can say from what happened in the hallway a few days ago. 

your textbook feels so unimportant now, spread open in front of you. your fingers dancing on the base of your neck, trying to keep the feeling of jay’s fingers there for as long as you can. you know you should really be able to focus on the types of bones in the hand and their functions, but now jay has completely taken control of your brain, once again. 

you wonder why he hadn’t taken the risk to tease you in front of his friends, in public. did it mean that he wasn’t afraid for his friends to know what you and him have done in his bed and in his car? you wish he would say something to you, but for now you’ll have to settle with his actions, trying to decipher what they mean. you decide that is enough for you for now, just knowing that jay sees you, even when ruby’s not around. he confuses you, but you figure it’s worth it if he makes you feel like you’re ontop of the world.

on thursday night, when the construction workers finally go home for the night, you plan on sitting on your couch watching reruns of love island and eating take out since you had two three hour lectures earlier. you just wanted to relax in your own home, in silence. 

but, since ruby is your best friend you should’ve figured that wouldn’t have worked out for you. 

even though it’s been days since you have seen ruby, when there’s a sudden knock on your front door you don’t doubt that it’s her. before you can even get up from your spot on the couch where you had planned to rot all night, the front door swings open, and sure enough, it’s ruby. 

“move over,” she huffs out, making you scoot over so she can sit on the couch beside you. she copies your previous position, putting her feet up on the coffee table in front of your couch and drapes the blanket over top of her lap so you’re sharing it. ruby wrinkles her nose when she sees maya jama on screen, announcing that there'll be another re-coupling tonight. “really? love island?” 

you shrug, “it’s entertaining, ok?” 

ruby rolls her eyes but doesn’t complain about your choice in television again. it’s the first time you’ve seen her in a while. you figured she needed space since your little argument in the bathroom, and all the stuff that’s going on with jay. usually you’d be worried if she hadn’t texted you in a while, even if the text was just about homework, but you didn’t seem to be bothered this time around. 

when all the couples are surrounding the firepit and maya jama reappears in another designer dress, ruby sighs before she turns to face you. 

“i’m sorry for ignoring you the past few days,” she starts and pulls her sweater’s sleeves over her hands. you notice that she’s hiding within herself, something she very rarely does. “i’ve been thinking about what you said in the bathroom last week— and you’re right.” your attention is fully on her at this point, though she can barely keep her eyes on yours without looking down at her lap. “i shouldn’t expect you to throw yourself in my and jay’s relationship. and i know that i’ve made you so involved in it and that’s not fair to you. i shouldn’t burden you with all of my relationship drama, i get like, if you’re super annoyed with it. i know i would be.” 

you softly smile at ruby, “you’re my best friend, ruby. i wanna be there for you, when you’re happy or sad or whatever. i just, i can’t control what jay does, and i know that’s frustrating but, i wish you would understand that i can’t make him do anything. he’s his own person.” 

ruby nods, “i know— i do understand. i guess, it’s just you’ve always been there throughout the entire time i’ve been with jay, so i guess it’s kinda like you’re a part of the relationship, too.” she dryly chuckles, but you can’t make yourself laugh. she glances at you warily and then continues, “i guess what i’m trying ot say is, i'm sorry for projecting my relationship problems onto you, or pressuring you or anything like that. i love you, you’re my best friend.” 

you open your arms up, “come here.” 

ruby smiles and scoots over the middle couch cushion to wrap her arms around you, your chins on each others’ shoulders. her familiar chanel perfume takes over your senses. 

“i love you, too.” 

ruby pulls back with a grin, “good, because tomorrow you’re coming to a party with me.” her voice jumps a few pitches, her eyebrows wiggling playfully. 

“what?”

ruby sits back on the couch with her feet propped on your coffee table, “yeah, i’m tired of sitting around all day crying about jay— i wanna go out! have fun again!” she reaches over to your lap, grabbing your popcorn bowl and starts eating a handful. “plus, he blocked me on everything so,” 

“what?” you gasp, leaning over her, jaw agape. “he what?” 

ruby rolls her eyes, “he fucking blocked me, on everything! he’s such a man child.” 

your fingers tangle into your hair on your scalp, trying to process what ruby is saying. jay and ruby have had some pretty awful fights, but they’ve never blocked each other on everything before. 

“why do you look so shocked?” ruby gives you a quizzical smile, “you know jay, you know how he thinks ignoring people says more than actual words.” ruby lowers her voice a few octaves to mock jay’s voice before she laughs, “he’s such an idiot.” 

your body feels limp as you sit back on the couch. you can’t help but feel a rush of guilt wash through you. was it your fault that he had blocked her on everything? have you really driven them apart? you try to think about what you had said to jay about ruby that could’ve caused him to cut ties with her like this, but nothing comes to mind. he doesn’t even let you say her name when you’re with him. 

“don’t look so worried, y/n, calm down,” ruby waves her hand at you before she takes another handful of popcorn into her mouth, “god, you’re lucky no one plays games with you like this. but, i guess no one’s ever obsessed over you anyway to wanna play games with you.” 

you cock your head, wanting to push her more about what she meant, but molly’s just been dumped from love island, making ruby scoff and shake her head. “i don’t even like, kady! why does molly have to go!” 

you know that you should feel better that things with ruby are okay again. she’s sitting on your couch complaining about reality tv with you and planning when to go out again. it’s like usual, but it’s not. 

the usual isn’t that you’re secretly hooking up with your best friends ex boyfriend. the usual usually includes jay being here with you, whether he’s fighting with ruby or making her giggle quietly. 

the usual doesn’t include you realizing your best friend makes you feel like shit— undesirable and unseen. it doesn’t include her ex boyfriend making you realize that you can shine without ruby. that you’re wanted. 

you stare at the tv without really watching it— you’ve seen it before, the islanders crying as they hug molly goodbye as zach looks shocked that she’s really leaving. you use to compare yourself to molly, almost having something you really want before it’s ripped away from you. but now you wonder if you’re more like zach, watching everything happen but not doing anything to stop it until he feels a quiet guilt that he can’t fix.

even though ruby is usually always late to class, she is never late when she has to pick you up to go to a party. so she’s pulled up outside your apartment right at 10pm sharp, texting you to come downstairs. you take one last look in the mirror before you leave, hoping that ruby doesn’t get too drunk today that you leave within an hour to take her home. that’s happened too many times before. 

but all those times before weren’t as bad since jay was with you and would help you walk ruby up the stairs to her apartment and tuck her into bed. if she would start throwing up then you would hold her hair as jay rubs her back. jay being there would definitely make the drunk ruby experience a lot better. 

but tonight, there would be no jay to help you with her. 

as soon as you got in the car and started driving to the party, you knew that tonight might be one of those nights where you leave early and have to physically push ruby up the stairs and get her into bed since she’d be totally incapable of doing it herself. 

“i’m just so tired of thinking about jay!” ruby waves her hand dismissively, “i want to have fun tonight okay! so let’s dance all night okay, y/n?” 

you smile at her, “sure, if you want.” but you know that once she starts drinking as soon as you get to the party that she won’t be able to stop and she’ll be dancing with anyone. 

you pull up to some house, with minimal lights on inside but you can hear the music from the front yard so you know there’s a party in there. plus there’s drunk people already on the porch, laughing and struggling to stand up by themselves. 

inside the house was crowded, probably one of the most crowded house parties you’ve ever been to in your life. it was a struggle for you to follow ruby into the kitchen, but she kept a hold of your hand and led you through it. you could hear people greeting ruby in front of yo, but you kept your head down, just trying to get through this crowd without being elbowed in the side. 

the kitchen was already a mess and the party hadn’t started too long ago. there were solo cups all over the table and opened bottles of vodka, and for some reason the tiled floor was soaked. 

“you’re are so taking shots with me tonight,” ruby squealed as she looked down at the variation of drinks. “shots? really?” you ask her, you had never been a fan of shots, plus it was hard to take shots when you always had to be the sober friend to look out for ruby. 

“yes! please,” ruby begs you, her eyes pleading for you to agree, “please c’mon, you know how hard it’s been for me recently.” 

you cringe at the mention of why she’s been so down recently, knowing that maybe you had a part in it. you take a glance at all the vodka and the different coloured shot glasses in front of you and you decide that maybe taking a shot would decrease the feeling of guilt that’s crawling up your throat. 

“fine, pour me one.” 

“yay!” ruby claps excitedly as she grabs a bottle and pours some of the clear liquid into four shot glasses. “two for you and two for me.” 

“what, two?” 

“yes duh! it’ll be fine, please.” 

you take a look at her sad, begging eyes for a moment, and then pick up both shot glasses, ignoring how ruby laughs triumphantly. you’ve never really been drunk with her before, so she so badly wanted you to be as wasted as her. on the count of three, both of you drink both of your shots consecutively, cringing at the bad taste. 

“ugh, here, hurry,” ruby’s face is scrunched up from the taste, and reaches over to get two cups, pouring some purple punch into them. she passes you one and you both eagerly down the punch, it’s fruity taste a lot better than the strong vodka shots. ruby cheers, her cheeks warm as the alcohol enters her system. she scoops some more punch into hers and your now empty cups, “let’s go dance!” 

you’re still processing the awful vodka taste in your mouth and the way the liquor felt as it goes down your stomach, but you follow ruby back into the crowded living room, holding tight onto your cup. 

ruby pulls you into some little circle that’s in the middle of the living room, greeting some people and hugging them. everyone is holding the same red solo cups as you and ruby. 

“this is my best friend, y/n!” ruby gestures to you in front of the group. “y/n, this is chaeryeong, dana and lexi.” 

you wave at them and mumble a hi under your breath and they do the same before they turn back to ruby. the girl who has long black hair, chaeryeong, grabs ruby’s arm with a serious expression. 

“did you see jay?” 

“what do you mean?” ruby cocks her head, confused. 

“jay’s here, ruby.” 

you see ruby’s face pale as she starts to look around. you have to refrain from looking around yourself. but unlike ruby, you’re looking around because you want to see him, not hide from him. 

“oh my god, why? i thought him and beomgyu didn’t get along,” 

the girl with the curly blonde hair, dana, shrugs, “i don’t know, i guess they made up. i know they’re both friends with wonbin, so.” 

ruby groans, “this sucks, i wanted to have fun tonight! not worry about my ex boyfriend lurking around.” 

chaeryeong puts a hand on ruby’s shoulder, “don’t worry, ruby, we can still have fun!” she turns and looks at you, “right?” 

you perk up as she includes you, “right, you said you wanted to dance ruby.” 

“oh my god, please!” ruby brightens up at the mention of dancing and turns back to the group, “have you guys taken shots or are you just drinking the punch?” 

“just the punch,” dana shows ruby her cup. 

ruby sighs, “come on then, let’s get you guys some shots!” 

before you can say anything else the three girls cheer and follow ruby back into the kitchen. you don’t have any other choice but to follow them, not wanting to be left alone in the middle of the living room. 

ruby starts pouring her three friends some shots, but you stay at the doorway of the kitchen, telling them that you’d prefer the punch instead. you stare back into the living room as dana and ruby start talking about their lab partners for physiology, something that you don’t care to talk about but chaeryeong and lexi seem interested in. 

the house is dark with the only light being from some lazily put up string lights and cheap disco balls. the music has seemingly gotten louder in the past twenty minutes since you’ve been here. you can feel the alcohol warm your stomach, starting to settle into your body. 

you hear ruby cheer again behind you, and you know she must’ve taken another shot. you wonder if any of ruby’s three friends will help you tuck ruby into bed later on. but with the way they’re drinking too, you doubt it. 

you start to think about how if jay were here he’d probably be telling ruby to settle down, or maybe they’d be fighting. but you would know that he’d still help you pack ruby into an uber later on. 

if you hadn’t known that jay was apparently at this party, you would’ve thought that you were hallucinating him from thinking about him too much when you suddenly see him on the other side of living room. he’s standing by the stairs, the fairy lights that are circled loosely around the stair rail hang behind his head, like a halo. 

it’s like he could feel your eyes on him because suddenly he starts looking around the room, turning away from his friend, until his eyes land on yours, still standing in the kitchen doorway. 

you freeze as you look at eachother, but a smirk spreads on jay’s face. his eyes land on your cup for a second, before they return back to your eyes. even from across a crowded room he makes you nervous. he has some dominant energy that takes over you. 

his friend starts talking to him again, making jay turn away from you for a second before he winks at you, then giving his friend his full attention. you think it’s partly due the alcohol, but your cheeks feel warm. 

“y/n,” ruby grabs your arm, turning you around, “let’s go dance!” 

you’re grateful that the house is so dark, or else ruby would’ve definitely commented on how red your cheeks are right now. 

“um, sure. yeah,” you nod at her, your mouth suddenly dry. if ruby looks out into the kitchen doorway right now, she’ll probably see jay. your chest tightens at the thought of what might happen if ruby and jay see each other right now. you’re assuming that jay is also drinking and ruby is on the way to becoming wasted, you wonder if they’d even be able to have a conversation. would they somehow make up after weeks of not talking? 

ruby’s grip on you tightens as she starts to pull you back into the crowded living room, chaeryeong, dana and lexi coming with you. they’re talking about something, but you can’t hear them over the music. you turn your head back to the stair rail where you had last seen jay, but he wasn’t there. your heart drops but you also feel relieved that he had moved, you didn’t want ruby to see him. 

you dance with the girls for a bit, trying to lean into the way the alcohol was making you feel. you finished another cup of your punch and were starting to feel the alcohol burn in the pit of your stomach. the music was sounding better, even if you didn’t know the songs. 

for a while, as you danced, you thought that ruby had control over herself. that she actually hadn’t drank that much. but as the hour prolonged with the five of you dancing in the middle of the living room, and your feet starting to hurt despite the alcohol numbing your lips, you could see ruby’s demeanor start to deteriorate. 

ruby started dancing more sloppily, smiling lazily and yelling loudly but slurred. she kept her hand on dana’s shoulder as she danced, to keep herself balanced. the other three girls were definitely more drunk than you, but they weren’t as drunk as ruby. you could see chaeryeong struggling to keep her eyes wide open, they wanted to fall into slits so she could try to see better but it obviously wasn’t working with the alcohol in her system. 

suddenly, ruby stopped dancing, dropping her hand from dana’s shoulder to cover her mouth. she was bent over slightly, her eyes wide as she started to push through the crowd of people. the four of you look confused at each other before you all start to follow ruby. you all call her name, wanting her to slow down, but it was no use. you all followed her up the stairs, leading to the second floor of the house. 

even though there was a girl about to walk into the bathroom, ruby pushed past her, practically falling onto her knees in front of the toilet. the bit of panic you felt stopped when you saw that she was running away just to throw up. dana is quick to pull ruby’s hair into a makeshift ponytail and chaeryeong turns on the ceiling bathroom light so you could actually see something. 

the poor girl that was pushed out of the bathroom for ruby to vomit was standing there in shock, her jaw dropped with a look of disgust on her face as she watched ruby continuously throw up into the toilet. 

“i’m so sorry,” you gush at the girl, your face scrunched up in embarrassment for some reason. 

the girl looks at you and then quietly laughs, “that’s ok, duty calls.” she gestures at ruby. 

you smile politely at her as the girl turns and starts to head back downstairs. ruby’s friends are all crowding the bathroom door, trying to check in on ruby. the bathroom is quite small though, so you can only stand in the hallway by the door. 

you’re trying to see if ruby is alright, but it’s hard to see through the other three girls. you see lexi turn on the tap, filling her red cup with water for ruby as ruby is still hunched over the toilet bowl. you think it’s time to leave, for ruby’s sake. 

but at least this time you lasted more than an hour. 

unexpectedly, a hand reaches out and grabs your arm and pulls you out of the hallway. you try to speak, to yell to the other girls for help, but another hand lands on your mouth, preventing you. they pull you into a bedroom that was right beside the bathroom, closing the door once you’re pulled in. 

you squirm in the person’s grasp, trying to get them to let you go, your heart picking up pace as you feel their presence behind you. your body is pushed up against the now closed bedroom door, and it’s only then that you see a pair of familiar, brown eyes looking into yours. 

though your body only relaxes when you hear jay’s annoying laughter in your eyes, “i got you good, huh?” he takes his hands off of you, taking a step back so he can take in your scared expression. 

you cross your arms over your body, “haha, very funny.” you speak sarcastically, not impressed by him at all. 

jay tsks at your annoyed face, “oh c’mon, baby, i just wanted to see you.” you tense at the nickname, looking back at the door subconsciously, not wanting ruby to hear him. “relax, they didn’t see me pull you in here.”

“well you’re lucky they didn’t, why would you do that?” your eyebrows furrowed together, concern laced on your face at the thought of anyone seeing you enter a room alone with jay. 

 jay shrugged, “because i wanted to see you.” 

you roll your eyes, “and you couldn’t do it in a more inconspicuous way?” 

jay smirks before he quickly pushes his body against yours, pinning you against the door and him, “no, not when you look so good tonight.” 

you try to push him off, to tell him that he’s being irresponsible, but his lips attach to your neck, pressing kisses into your soft skin. his body feels so warm on yours as his hands start to move down your body. 

“j-jay, we can’t!”

“why not?” jay mumbles against your skin, his hands playing with the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing your bare thighs. 

“because ruby is right next door,” you hiss at him, trying to get your voice to see unaffected by his actions. 

jay only smirks and starts to lift the bottom of your dress up, revealing your panties, “so? can’t you be quiet? or is my dick that good?” he laughs when you roll your eyes at him. 

“this is wrong, jay. she could hear!” 

“this entire thing is wrong, it’s been wrong— who cares if she hears?” 

you know he’s right. it’s been wrong since you stayed far too long in his apartment those weeks ago. it’s been wrong since the moment you sat on his lap and made out with him, since he’s made you cum in the backseat of his car. but maybe it’s been wrong since the moment he started dating ruby. the way he’s always been on your mind, how you always caught him staring maybe a second too long at you when ruby would leave the room. you think that maybe in a twisted way, you hooking up with jay at this party that his ex girlfriend brought you to, this was all right. 

jay feels you relax under his touch, and he knows that he’s won. that you’ll let him do anything to you, even hook up with him while his ex and your best friend is in the room right beside you. the rooms share a wall. she’s only meters away from you and jay. 

the thought of ruby walking in and seeing you with jay sends a shock down your body, making your arms grip onto jay’s shoulders as his fingers push your panties to the side are start to massage your clit in a circle. jay knows how you like it now, soft but fast. he knows you like to be teased. he knows what your pussy feels like when you cum. 

he knows too much about you for it to ever go back to how it was before. when it was him and ruby, and ruby’s best friend. 

you let out a sigh of pleasure as you melt into jay’s touch. his fingers starting to warm you up. you can both feel your pussy start to moisten at his touch. you both know how easy it is for jay to get you to soften. 

jay’s lips attach to yours, feverishly. his lips are rough against yours, making out with you against the door hastily. you don’t struggle to keep up with his pace, you let him guide you along. you let his tongue in your mouth, something that he’s done too many times before. like he can recognize every inch of your  mouth now. you don’t think your best friend’s ex should be able to do that. 

“fuck, we shouldn’t do this, jay,” you pull away slightly at the thought of ruby again. but jay’s fingers remain on your clit, circling it, getting your knees to start to quiver. 

“you always say that, yet you always let me touch you, always let me make you feel good.” jay’s voice deepens as he speaks, his fingers slowly becoming covered in your juices as your pussy gets wetter and wetter. there’s something about the risk of being caught, especially if it was by ruby, that sends you spiraling. it has your adrenaline pumping through your veins. “are you that addicted to my dick, y/n? can’t say no to it?” 

you whimper at his question, hating the way that he can so easily wrap himself around your mind, your thoughts. “y-yes, you know i love your dick.” 

jay chuckles dryly at you, not wasting a second to start making out with you again. the back of your head is pushed against the door behind you, your fingers clawing at jay’s black t shirt. his fingers start to pick up pace on your clit, rubbing it just the way you like it. the way that can make you cum the fastest. 

you moan into jay’s mouth, part of you thankful that his tongue is wrapped around yours so that ruby can’t hear you. you start to circle your hips more, trying to get jay to move even faster, trying to get even more of him. 

jay pulls away and looks down at your circling hips, his fingers disappearing under your panties and chuckles, “fuck you’re so desperate for me— you even risk getting caught by your best friend just to get my dick.” 

you nod, your hair becoming a mess on the back of your head from the friction against the cold door behind you, “i just want you in me so bad. please jay,” 

jay’s voice comes out in a growl, “fuck,” he takes his hand away from your pussy, ignoring the way you whimper out at the loss of his touch, “you drive me fucking crazy, y/n.” his hands grab your shoulders, moving you around to push you down on the bed. he’s quick to crawl on top of you, hovering over you with your dress still pulled up over your hips, your panties now having a wet stain on them from your juices. he groans at the sight, “you wear this short dress, stare at me with those doe eyes of yours from across the room— and then act surprised when i pull you in here?” jay hurriedly moves down your body with his lips, kissing the exposed skin of your neck, chest, arms and thighs. 

you try to defend yourself, but your voice is airy from the anticipation, “i, i didn’t think you’d fuck me here.” 

jay shakes his head, “you should’ve known that i can’t resist you, y/n… how can i resist my own personal slut?” 

you moan at the name, loving the way that he truly degrades you. the way it makes you feel powerful. like you have some control over him that no one else does. that you really make it hard for him to think of anything else. that you’re better than anyone else. 

“fuck, ok i can’t wait anymore— take off your panties for me,” jay nods at you, standing up and zipping down his jeans. 

you react quickly, lifting your hips off the bed to take off your underwear, flinging them on the floor. you keep your eyes on jay, his cock now being revealed as he pulls it out of his jeans. he’s already hard and dripping precum. you can tell that he must’ve been hard for a while, that your dress and your eye contact from across the room must’ve really turned him on. that he was telling the truth about him not being able to resist you. 

jay pushes you back down to the bed, his hands grab your thighs to force them open. he stays standing, his feet on the floor as he moves to align his cock with your dripping pussy. he’s being so rough with you, you both know that you trust him to make you feel good. that he knows what you like. 

“just be quiet— you don’t want ruby to hear, right?” jay grunts at you, staring right into your eyes as he glides his cock up and down your slick folds, gathering your sticky juices all over his dick. 

“right, right,” 

with that, jay slides his cock into you, not stopping until his cock hits your cervix. when he bottoms out he stays still for a moment, letting both of you adjust to his size. jay leans over your body, kissing you softly, gently. he pulls away after a minute, watching you flutter your eyes open to look at him again. he presses a kiss onto your forehead once before he stands up straight again. 

jay makes sure he has a tight grip on your legs, holding them up before he starts to pull out of you, so slowly. both of you moan at the feeling of your wet pussy allowing his cock to slide so easily in and out of you. he pulls all the way out so just the very, very tip of his cock is still inside of you, before he slams back inside of you. 

the harsh movement makes you cry out, shocking you from the surprise and the pleasure. 

“shh, baby— ruby’s right next door.” 

you cover your own mouth, trying to silence yourself as jay starts at a quick pace. jay’s hips move in a way that he’s sure makes his cock rub against your gspot. he hovers over you as he keeps your legs in the air. only his hips move as he fucks into you. his pants are just pooled at his ankles, both of you too desperate to get naked. both of you just need to feel each other, even with his ex girlfriend in the room right beside you. 

 “oh fuck, baby,” jay groans out, his eyes staring right at you as you keep your hand covering your mouth. your hand is successfully muting your moans, keeping your cover incase ruby or one of her friends overhears. you know this is wrong, fucking her ex boyfriend whilst she’s drunk next door. but it feels too good to stop. “is this what you wanted? wanted my cock soaked from your pussy?” 

“y-yes, fuck yes.” you answer as quietly as possible, a moan threatens to escape your lips but your hand covers your mouth just in time to silence it. 

even though you have to be quiet, and you and jay both know that you can’t control your moans too well, jay keeps talking to you, grunting out quietly in this random bedroom. “do you feel me in your tummy, baby? feel how fucking deep i am?” 

you nod against the mattress, your eyebrows furrowed together as jay fucks you deeper and deeper. his cock was so long and so hard. you could feel it in the bottom of your stomach every time he slid back in. it makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. the way your pussy takes him in so deep, clamping around it like it wants him to stay inside forever. 

your pussy keeps tightening around jay, his own pleasure making him lose control. jay suddenly moves so your knees are pinned to the bed, caging your head in with your legs. he’s bent you into a ball, your pussy squeezed together by your legs, making it feel even tighter for him. you keep your eyes on jay, no where else to look since your legs are beside your head. 

with the new position jay fucks deeper inside of you at a steady pace. he makes sure his cock slides all the way into your pussy before he slides back out. he wants his entire cock coated in your juices. he just loves how wet you get for him. he can already see your juices dripping out of your pussy. everytime he pulls almost all the way out of you, more of your juices dribble around your lips, spreading against your inner thighs. 

jay’s grip on the back of your knees stays firm as he focuses on fucking you. both of you hear your moans against your palm— your palm moist from your saliva and sweat. you’re trying your hardest to stay as quiet as possible. but a part of you wishes that you could scream just as much as you wanted right now. because jay was fucking you so deep and it felt so fucking good. you’ve never been fucked from this angle before. like he’s genuinely drilling into you as he hovers above you. 

“f-fuck,” jay’s voice is growling, he’s never felt this good in his life. he’s getting pussy-drunk just from the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him. just imagining his cock inside of you gets his mind foggy enough to not be able to think straight. so, being able to pound into you like this, keeping you still against the mattress as he fucks you, is enough to get him wasted. “i fucking love your pussy— it’s like it’s made for me.” 

you nod at him, your body starting to feel like it’s on fire from your orgasm slowly building and building. jay leans closer to you, looking straight into your eyes as he demands, “say it— say your pussy is made for me, say that it’s mine.” 

you take your hand off your mouth, clutching the blanket underneath you for support as jay keeps slamming into you. “my pussy is yours, fuck it’s only yours— just for you, just please don’t stop.” 

jay grunts, loving how obedient you are for him. you’ll do anything he asks and it drives him wild. “fuck i won’t stop, baby— love the way you let me use this pussy, especially when ruby is right next door, fuck.” 

you whimper out, reminding yourself that you have to be quiet. you bite down hard on your lip and grip the blanket underneath you tighter. if jay’s cock didn’t feel so fucking good inside of you you’re sure that your body would be sore from the position he has forced you in. if his hands weren’t pinning your knees to bend and stay right on the mattress on either side of your head, you’re sure that you’d whine from the loss of blood to your feet. but his cock is addicting to you— and by the way he’s groaning out quietly nonstop, you’re sure your pussy is addicting to him. that he can’t resist you. that he wants you and only you. 

“i’m close, baby.” jay confesses, his eyes slanted as the pleasure builds within him. he takes one of his hands off your knees and moves so his thumb is pressed right onto your swollen clit. he starts to rough fast and hard circles on it. his thumb swishes against you at the same pace as his cock fucking deep inside of you. 

you moan out quietly, biting your lip harder as you stare at jay. he looks so hot above you. he’s so focused on making you feel good and wanting to cum that his eyebrows are pushed together. he keeps his jaw flexed and he grits his teeth. it’s hard for him to be quiet too. 

“can i cum inside of you, baby? please?” 

“yes, yes please, jay.” you answer so quickly, “please cum inside of me, i want it so bad.” 

“fuck, be quiet baby, unless you want ruby to hear you beg for my cum, is that what you want?” 

you whimper out in response, “n-no, just want your cum dripping out of me, so bad.” 

jay growls again, your words having a strong effect over him. “okay, okay— just cum on my cock for me then? can you do that? does it feel good like this?” 

you nod, “y-yes, just keep rubbing my clit like that, please.” 

jay does what you ask, keeping his thumb steady on your clit with your legs still in the air. his cock keeps sliding in and out of you over and over again. “cum on my cock, baby. wanna feel your pussy cum on my cock.” 

with words send you over the edge, gripping onto his forearms to steady yourself as a huge wave of pleasure washes over you. your body spasms as your pussy clamps over his cock, the ball in your stomach snapping as you cum. jay moves quickly to cover your mouth with his hand, stopping you from screaming out. the orgasm that washes over you is powerful, the hardest you’ve ever cum before. your body feels like it's being electrocuted as you cum all over his cock. the entire time jay doesn’t stop from thrusting his cock in and out of you. 

“f-fuck baby, i- i’m cumming,” jay grunts out, and within seconds you can feel his warm cum coat your pussy. he fills you up right to the brim. he still doesn’t stop thrusting, making sure to cover you’re entire pussy with his cum. he fucks his cum into you, making sure to mark you. making sure to mark his pussy. 

jay doesn’t stop until you’re both panting and overstimulated. he keeps his cock lodged inside of you and finally drops your legs. your legs are limp and weak and fall right to the floor. jay leans over you, his own legs tired from standing over you this entire time. your chests are panting together, covered by clothes but you’re both sweaty and tired from cumming so fucking hard. 

jay slowly pulls out, both of you watching as his cum drips out of you, making even more of mess of your abused pussy. 

“fuck,” jay grunts out, “that’s so hot.” you whimper in agreement. jay leans over so his lips are almost against yours, “you’re such a slut for me, i love it.” you smile as he kisses you again. your mind feels foggy from the orgasm and the alcohol. jay pulls away and bends down to pull up his pants, button them again so he’s fully dressed. he sees your panties on the floor and picks them up, smirking as he touches the fabric. 

“hey, give me those,” you giggle at him, sitting up on your elbows to try to grab them from his hands. jay only bites his lip, glancing between your pussy, soaked in his cum and your panties. “jay?” 

“are you just gonna put these on? with my cum still in you?” 

you gulp, the thought relighting a fire in you at the thought. you, walking around the party with jay’s cum dripping out of you. talking with ruby while her ex’s cum coats your entire inner thighs. 

“give me them,” you repeat and stand up, easily taking them from jay. he watches you intently, curious about what you’re going to do. you bend down, stepping in your panties and sliding them back over your waist before pulling down your dress again. 

“fuck,” jay says breathlessly, staring at your hips, knowing his cum is there. knowing that if anyone saw it, they’d wonder whose it was. knowing that you have been marked by someone— by him. 

you laugh at his reaction, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him for another kiss. 

“i’ll see you, later?” jay looks down at you, his eyes beaming happily. 

“of course,” 

jay kisses your nose once more, before he opens the door and looks down the hall, making sure no one was around before he smiles at you once, closing the door after him so you’re left alone in the bedroom. you look back at the bed, seeing that it’s a complete mess now from your squirming against it. you glance in the mirror briefly, patting down the back of your hair, wiping the fallen mascara under your eyes from the tears of your orgasm. 

when you’re ready, and when you think it’s been long enough for people to not assume you and jay were in here together, you open the bedroom door and step into the hall. you first look at the bathroom right beside you. the door is completely closed now, but you can see that the light is still on it, the light shining through the cracks around the door frame. 

you take a deep breath, glad that ruby wasn’t standing right there. 

just as you think ruby went downstairs again, or maybe even left from throwing up, the bathroom door opens and ruby steps out. her hair is a mess and you can tell she had just been sick. 

“oh, y/n, thank god,” ruby says, letting out a long sigh, “i was so worried, i know you don’t drink a lot so i thought you had gotten lost!” 

“you were worried, about me?” you repeat, trying to understand. 

“well yeah, one second you were there and the next you weren’t! i didn’t know what had happened to you! chaeryeong and dana went looking for you!” 

“oh,” you can’t help but look taken aback, “i was just downstairs, i got lost in the crowd, you know.” 

ruby pouts, “aw, i’m sorry! i threw up,” 

you pretend like this is news to you, a false look of concern on your face, “oh no, are you okay?” 

ruby shrugs, “i guess, i think i shouldn’t drink for a while.” 

you try to not roll your eyes at her. you’ve heard this exact sentence from her a million times before. 

“maybe you’re right. should we get you home then?” 

ruby smiles and links her elbow with yours, “yeah that sounds good, do you wanna make ramen when we get home? i’m so craving it right now,” 

you laugh at her, “what? you just threw up!” 

ruby shrugs, “so? it tastes good,” 

“whatever, but if you throw it up, don’t complain to me about it.” 

ruby boops your nose with her finger, “never.” 

on the way out of the house, you meet eyes with jay who’s sitting on one of the couches. you give each other a look that no one else would understand. no one knows what secret you’ve been keeping together. or that his cum is currently dripping down your leg. 

ruby pulls you out of the house before you can stare too long at jay, or trip over the crumpled carpet from not paying attention. and even though ruby doesn’t stop talking to the uber driver the entire time home, you don’t listen to a word she says, you don’t think the uber driver listens either. 

the feeling of jay’s cum drying to your inner thighs and pussy has you squirming in your seat. it had a thrill of excitement and risk swelling in your body. you’re glad ruby was still drunk or else she would’ve noticed your demeanor. 

even though it’s only been less than an hour since your hook up with jay, you can’t stop repeating it over and over in your head. he was the perfect mix of rough and gentle. the way his lips feel on yours still tingles on yours. you drag your finger over your bottom lip, drawn to the feeling. 

 jay’s proposal of seeing you later runs through your mind. he actually wants to see you again. the way he was so eager and desperate to fuck you tonight has you spiraling. the way he called your pussy his. like, he actually wants you to be his. 

it’s a dangerous thought that’s grows in your mind, but you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, jay wants exactly what you want. 

since the party, you’ve not only wanted more of jay’s touch, but you’ve craved more of the feeling that you get when you’re with him. the feeling like you can do anything you want now that you know who you truly are. that you’re not meant to be someone else’s shadow— you’re meant to be the light that causes a shadow.  

you used to pray for the construction workers to speed up the work they were doing on the roof of your apartment building, but if their slow work meant more opportunities for jay to slip his hand underneath your skirt in the back of the library, then you hope they take months. 

though jay’s fingers fucking in and out of you made it hard for you to focus on how micro organisms affect how diseases spread in the human body, you didn’t mind since it got jay close to you. it got you to realize that you can do something that doesn’t fit the “good girl” persona ruby has forced onto you. that you can make your own decisions. 

you spent more nights at his apartment, which let you sleep in longer since there was no power tools to wake you up. it let you and jay explore each others’ bodies more. it let jay be able to find your gspot perfectly every single time he entered you. he got you to come undone faster and faster every single time. you got to familiarize yourself with each and every vein that protruded off his hard cock. you know which parts of your tongue he likes to feel most wrapped around the tip of his cock as you suck him dry. 

it let you and jay have more lazy morning sex before you both had to get up for class— even if that lazy morning sex was disrupted by his friends banging on his front door. the rush of adrenaline that you got as you snuck out of his apartment half naked with his bite marks on your chest and thighs as he distracted his friends with something in the kitchen.

the craving for the feeling and the physical pleasure jay gives you got you to text him in the middle of class telling him you need to feel his warm cum drip down your pussy in the back of his car in twenty minutes or else you will explode, with ruby right beside you. the feeling of finding yourself and sex was available whenever and wherever you wanted was addicting and possible if you kept it a secret. 

at first, the high jay was able to give you felt like this all was the right thing to do to break out of the shell ruby has tricked you into. that doing something so out of question for you would help you grow as a person. but everytime jay pulls out of you and you walk home with your panties still left on jay’s bedroom floor, that achy craving feeling of the loss of that high gets more detrimental and inevitable. 

when you have jay’s full attention, it feels like you can do anything, like you’re the centre of the world. the things he tells you and whispers in your ear just before he makes you cum for the one hundredth time. it makes you feel like you have everything you ever wanted— that you have jay. 

but the truth is that you don’t have jay, not the one you want anyways. 

you don’t want to sneak around with him, only being able to feel like this true self of yours when you’re alone with him. you want to be able to hold hands with him down the hallways at school, to dance with him at parties and hang out with his friends. stuff that he used to do with ruby. 

you don’t want to stop what you have with jay, it feels too good when you’re with him, but it feels so bad when you’re not. you used to be able to enjoy being alone, you almost preferred it sometimes. but now it feels like the world is about to crash down when you’re left with yourself. like you don’t know who you are when you’re not in some secret world with jay that you and him have built. 

at first this used to feel empowering, but now it feels like you’re pretending. that when you’re with jay you have to put on this persona that you’ve created just for him to be able to stand being around you. that without this persona jay wouldn’t touch you. yet, the pleasure you feel is so real, but the pain you feel is raw and visceral.

the secret you keep with jay can only help you grow as a person so much. it’s like you’ve outgrown this secret, but you crave more with jay. you want it to feel as raw and visceral with jay as does the pain you feel when you’re alone. you don’t want to become someone else in order to keep him, you want him to want you, not the version he thinks is the real you. 

the secret can keep you alive for so long before it starts to rot inside of you until you can’t keep it hidden any longer.

you’ve never been the one to go out drinking alone. even when you’re with ruby you barely drink. maybe because you’re always her babysitter since she can never pace herself properly. 

but tonight you’re tired of only being able to feel like some greater version of yourself when you’re with jay. and you’re tired of being in ruby’s shadow when you’re with her. you feel so many emotions at once and you’re just trying to figure out who you are and who likes you for the real you. 

it took you a fourth shot for you to be able to start dancing at the bar downtown that you and ruby have gone to a few times before. the music started to sound better and your cheeks started to burn from the alcohol in your system. 

a few girls started dancing with you, they were introducing themselves to you but you can’t remember their names. they told you to start drinking some mango cocktail that they were also having, which tasted so good you didn’t know how much vodka they were mixing in each one. 

by the time your little drinking group had decided to head home, it was already 2am and you were wasted, but you didn’t want to go home just yet. without thinking for long, you type in jay’s address and order an uber to his apartment. you tried texting him that you’re coming over but you couldn’t find his name in your text messages. 

when you get to his apartment and knock on his door you’re holding yourself up by leaning on the doorframe until he opens the door, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. he was shirtless and in those damn grey sweatpants that drove you crazy. even with his hair a mess you still wanted him. 

“y/n?” jay grumbles, his voice hoarse from being woken up so abruptly in the middle of the night. “what’re you doing here?” 

you pout at him, walking past him into his apartment that you’ve been at countless times before, “i want you, duh!” jay shuts the door as he turns around to face you. it’s so obvious that you’re wasted. your speech is slurred and eyes are glazed over, plus you smell like you’ve been at the bar for as many hours as you were. before jay can process what you want, you’re reaching up and wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pushing your lips onto his, something that you’ve done so many times before. 

“w-wait,” jay puts his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back down onto your flat feet, pushing you off of him. “you’re drunk.” 

you give him a dismissive snort, “i’m not that drunk.” 

jay stares back at you unimpressed and not believing a word you say, “we’re not gonna fuck right now, y/n.” 

you pout again, crossing your arms over your chest like a child as you stare up at him, “why not? you don’t want me anymore?” 

jay puts his hands on your shoulders, trying to turn you around to walk you into his bedroom, “c’mon, lets lay down and sleep.” 

“no!” you dig your heels into the floor, stopping him from taking you anymore. you turn to face him again, your face still pulled into a pout. “i want you. you don’t want me?” 

“not when you’re drunk like this, baby, c’mon, let’s sleep.” 

you can’t help but groan in frustration, pushing his arms off of your shoulders, taking a step back so he can’t persuade you to sleep with his touch. 

“i thought you knew me, jay!” your voice rises, mainly due the alcohol in your system but also from the built up frustration and confusion you’ve been feeling for the past few weeks. “i thought you knew the real me, but i guess you don’t. no ever does.” 

“y/n, please,” jay pleads, so obviously not wanting to deal with this right now, but his dismissal of you only fuels your anger more. “it’s not like that and you know it. let’s talk about it in the morning.” 

“ugh,” you groan and step around him so you’re closer to the front door and further from his bedroom. “you always say ‘let’s talk later’ or ‘don’t over think this’. but, i can’t do that anymore. you don’t want me in public so we’ve been sneaking around for months. and now what? you don’t want me in private?”

“well what do you want me to, y/n?” jay finally snaps, his eyes narrowing as he looks down at you, “you’re my ex’s best friend! i don’t know what to do! what—” 

“then figure it out!” you cut him off, your narrowed eyes matching his, “figure out what you want! do you want me, or not? because i’m tired of secrets, sneaking around and pretending to be someone i’m not!”

jay’s face contorts into one that looks taken aback by your outburst. like he was never expecting this from you. which only proves to you that he doesn’t know you. he doesn’t know what you’re actually capable of. and maybe it’s time you figure out what you’re capable of on your own, without jay and the way he makes you feel. 

before he can say anything else you turn and storm out of his apartment, not even bothering to close the door behind you. you just rush outside into the cool night air, thankful to be alone on the street as you kneel down onto the sidewalk, letting out confused tears that you’ve been holding onto for months. 

you wanted to be seen, but instead you’ve become so hidden that you don’t even know who you are anymore.

it’s been a week since you’ve seen either jay or ruby. 

you told ruby you’re suffering from a horrible, disgusting flu all week which made her stay far away from you and ask no further questions about your absence from school. there’s a big football game coming up so she needs to be in perfect shape for cheerleading and obviously can’t risk getting sick. 

however, you’ve been radio silent from jay all week. the first few days after you had stormed out of his apartment as a drunk mess and told him to figure himself out, you were checking your phone every five minutes for a text from him. but a text never came. 

you debated just giving in and calling him and apologizing for being a disaster, but you couldn’t force yourself to be so pathetic. you had left the ball in his court. jay was the one who had to come up with a solution to fix whatever this was you had going on with each other. 

but with his current track record of ignoring ruby for weeks now, you figured you better give him some time before you completely give up on him, if he was even gonna answer you at all. 

ruby texted you earlier that she’s gonna bring over some soup for you since you’re feeling a bit better after your “week long flu”, so you were laying on your couch waiting for her. maybe she’d stay awhile once she saw you in perfectly good health. 

there was a knock on your door and you waited a second for ruby to burst in afterwards like she always does. but the door remains closed until another knock. you push yourself off your couch, wondering who could be at your door if it wasn’t ruby. 

when you pulled open the door, you froze. 

jay was standing there with a sheepish smile on his face. like he had known he wasn’t the one you’d be expecting at your door. 

“hi, y/n.” 

“jay, you can’t be here. ruby’s coming over.” you whispered harshly at him, glancing down the hallway in case she was near. 

“i’ll make it quick.” jay pushes, and steps into your apartment. you grapple for words as you glance one more time down the hallway before closing your door and locking it. 

“jay, seriously, she might see you leave here!” 

jay shrugs, keeping his position as he stands in front of you. you can tell he doesn’t care if she sees or hears or even smells him. but you can’t say the same. it has you biting your lip with anxiety as you stand in the middle of your front door and jay. 

“i’ve been thinking about what you said.” jay starts, his tone serious and eyes softening. “about all the secrets and sneaking around that we’ve been doing. and that you feel like you’ve been pretending to be someone.” he steps closer so he’s only inches away from you now, “i feel like that’s my fault. i’m sorry if i made you feel like you had to be someone else around me, i didn’t mean to make you feel like that.” 

you hold your ground even though you want to collapse into his arms and tell him that you’ve missed him all week. that you wished he would’ve just told you this sooner. but you keep your gaze hardened as you look up at him. “then what did you mean to do?” 

jay reaches down for your hands, playing with your ring like he always does. you feel yourself almost give into his touch, but you pull your hand away. jay needs to speak for once. you’re tired of trying to decode all his actions to try to find out what he means. you want him to say it. like a man. 

he looks taken aback a bit when you pull away from him. but he knows what you want. it’s just up to him if he can give that to you. 

jay sighs, “you were right. i have to figure out what i want.” he keeps his eyes on you, soft and genuine. he takes your hands in his and this time you let him, not breaking eye contact with him. “i missed you, and i’m sorry for confusing you— but i do know you, y/n. i do.” 

you feel your breathing pick up pace slightly and gently as jay leans in closer to you slowly, like he’s making sure you’re okay with this. when you don’t pull away from him he lets his lips meet yours for the first time in a week. the kiss is slow and sure and almost selfish. 

but you close your eyes, letting yourself melt into his lips once again. 

jay pulls away first, his eyes seeming genuine as he looks down at you, scanning your face like he’s missed looking at your features all week. 

“i am sorry, y/n.” 

you nod in understanding, letting yourself smile. he smiles at your quiet response, his hand cupping your jaw so his thumb brushes against your lips swiftly. 

“okay, i’ll go.” 

you wrap your arms around yourself instinctively, letting him walk past you to the door. he opens it and stands in the doorframe for a second, glancing back at you like there’s more he wants to say. he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it, his gaze shifting to the floor before looking back up at you. “don’t overthink too much, okay? you always do that.” 

you nod once more to him before he closes the front door after him, leaving you alone in your apartment. 

you don’t get a chance to take in the faint sizzle on your lips that jay had left— your ring still twisted on your finger from his anxious fiddling as he spoke before there’s a knock on your door again. when the door is pushed open automatically you aren’t surprised to see ruby, but you wish she had given you another minute to pull yourself together after seeing jay. 

“they didn’t have chicken noodle,” ruby pouts, “but they had tomato!” she holds up a plastic bag with an overenthusiastic smile. 

“perfect, i love warm ketchup.” 

ever since ruby came over and watched the rerun episode of love island with you, she’s been obsessed with the new season coming out tonight. so you picked up some chips and candy to watch the season premiere with ruby at her apartment. 

you looked forward to sinking into the couch with your best friend, watching shitty romance reality tv like nothing had ever changed between you two. like you haven’t been hooking up with jay for months now. you needed some normalcy in your life, especially now that jay had apologized to you. it felt like a new start for both of you. 

“ruby!” you call out as you open her apartment door, “i got you sour patch kids! the ones with gross watermelon that you lik—” you stop mid-sentence as you look up from the plastic bag you were carrying, almost dropping said bag when you see who’s sitting on the couch. 

“y/n!” ruby greets you excitedly, stepping out from the kitchen grinning from ear to ear. she was glowing almost. like the grey storm cloud that was overhead had finally dissipated. “look who’s here!” 

you take a second glance at the couch, wondering if you had mistaken the person for him. but when your eyes met his, you knew there was no mistake. 

he was sitting on ruby’s couch. in the exact same spot he use to sit in months ago, his arm thrown over the back of the couch as he smiled sheepishly at you. 

“jay?” you finally speak, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“yeah!” ruby nods with a little jump, “can you believe he’s here?” 

you’re unable to speak as you look between ruby and jay, trying to understand what is going on. ruby’s laughter breaks you out of your trance. she turns to jay, “she’s more shocked than i was!” you hear jay laugh but you don’t look at him. you’re too busy realizing that ruby is back to her same old self, like a ray of sunshine that can’t stop smiling. you haven’t seen her this gleeful in months. 

“oh! and y/n,” ruby comes up to you, grabbing your shoulders with her hands, “look!” she shoves one of her hands in your face and it’s impossible to miss what she’s showing you. “we’re engaged!” 

the clear diamond sat right in the middle of a silver band slid right onto ruby’s ring finger. 

“w-what?” your eyes scan quickly between ruby and jay. you unconsciously take a step back, heading back into the apartment’s door frame, like your mind and body are fighting if you should stay or run away. 

“isn’t it amazing!”! ruby beams, her face contorted into a huge smile as she stares at the ring on her hand, “and it’s all thanks to you!” 

“thanks… to me?” 

“yeah! jay told me that you talked some sense into him,” 

your focus is back on jay who is now standing up from his spot on the couch, walking over to stand next to ruby. 

“yeah, i told her how you told me to figure out what i want.” jay’s smile is tight lipped as he glances between you and ruby. “and this is what i want.” he wraps his arm around ruby’s waist, where it’s been so many times before. it’s safe and comfortable and easy. “i want to settle down and not hide my feelings.” 

ruby smiles at jay in a way that makes your stomach turn. jay kisses her on the cheek and he whispers something in her ear that makes her giggle before he turns back to you, “and i couldn’t have realized that without you, y/n. thank you for being such a good friend.” 

friend.

“right, thank you for always being there for me, y/n. you really held me together these past few months,” she elbows jay in the side playfully. “and now you’ll help me plan this wedding right!” ruby comes up to you, grabbing your hands in hers as she jumps up and down. 

you’re in too much shock to respond properly, your gaze continually flicking back and forth between both of them, trying to recognize either of the people standing in front of you. “y/n?” ruby’s voice says your name mixed with concern. “are you okay?” “um,” you step back into the hallway, away from ruby’s touch. she pouts as you force her to drop your hands, “i’m just, not feeling well. i think i’ll go home and watch love island from there, if that’s ok.” 

“oh,” ruby’s face remains in a pout, “okay, you were just starting to feel better again, too.” 

“yeah, yeah— um, i’m so happy for you, but i have to go, okay?” you drop the plastic bag of snacks on the floor beside your feet, not being able to hold them anymore with the way your body starts to feel numb. 

“okay?” 

“see ya, y/n.” jay calls from over ruby’s shoulder, but you don’t look at him as you turn and make a beeline straight to the apartment building’s stairs, not even bothering to wait for the elevator. 

you rush down the flights of the stairs, tears brimming your eyes the entire way down. your hands are trembling as you hold onto the stair railing. the exit door feels like a sanctuary as you reach it and push it open— feeling the cool air on your skin. the door hits the wall behind it as you push it open with far too much strength. 

you’re panting as you stand still, jay’s face and ruby’s ring still imprinted in your mind, replaying over and over again. 

a sudden drop of water landing on your cheek has you glancing upwards to the sky. the sun was covered by a dark grey cloud, the rain just starting to patter down now. the pavement slowly turns darker as the rain picks up as you stand there, your jaw dropped as you feel like it must be some cruel prank.  

friend. 

the word sounds foreign in your mind coming from jay’s lips. were you guys even friends in the first place? or were you always just ruby’s boyfriend and best friend? 

it felt like you guys had gone from strangers to lovers to strangers who know everything about each other. like the way his tongue felt against your neck. the way he’d wash his body first and then his hair in shower. he knew your secrets— you shared the biggest one. 

the worst part that was beating at your hear the most was how you believed everything he said. you thought he saw you and knew the real you and not the version that ruby and everyone else thought you were. you thought he’d help you grow into the version of a woman that he knew you could be, even if you didn’t. even if you didn’t like that version. 

jay messed with your mind. and for what? 

to get back at ruby? 

just in the end for him to go back to her? to go back to the easiest version of love that he could, where there were no risks? just familiarity. 

you don’t take another step before you collapse onto your knees on the wet pavement, the rain splattering around, soaking your hair and clothes, mixing with your tears. you wanted to scream loud enough to erase everything that had happened in the past few months— all the agony and secrets and pleasure.

you yearned for the past version of yourself that you knew. the version that didn’t hate being alone. that didn’t need jay’s attention to feel like she was worth something. that didn’t feel like she was self sabotaging herself by allowing herself to be put into her best friend’s shadow. 

your sight is blurry from your tears and the rain as you stare down at your hands when you realize: you have no idea who you are. 

if you aren’t ruby’s good girl best friend and you’re not the carefree girl that jay chooses— then who are you? especially now that you’re alone. 

it’s just you, curled on the pavement in the pouring rain as the grey cloud hovers above you, taking away the last bit of your sunshine. the loud rain helps you think and realize that you never want to feel like this again. 

you stand slowly, clothes wet and sticking to you. there’s no one around, no one to come after you or ask if you’re okay. but maybe that’s what you need. you don’t need anyone else in order to fulfill your identity. 

so you walk away from all the versions of yourself that are tied up in that apartment that were never truly yours and you don’t look back. you don’t want to go back. ever. 

@ taeghi, 2025. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

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[kemonomimichiru]

How it feels to find a fanfic where your favorite character is going through literally the worst horrors you can imagine

[thatskindarough]

“That was your first mistake. You took your lucky break, and broke it in two. Now what can be done for you?”

[fromdove]

seeing my man with his canonical love interest 💔💔💔💔

[neoheros]

sakusa knows he’s a bad date.

he’s quiet, timid, doesn’t speak much, and asks all the wrong questions at the wrong time.

he’s not very good at eye contact and a lot of the things he wants to say he feels he can’t say at all either.

(partially due to the feeling that everything he says when he talks to you ends up embarrassing him, and partially due to the fact that talking to you for long periods of time make him tongue tied).

(not that he’d ever admit that).

despite all that though, he does know the basics when it comes to going on dates:

he buys you flowers (and forgets it by his doorway), he opens the car door for you (and apologizes when it almost hits you as he opens it), and he makes dinner reservations at the restaurant you mentioned to him in passing three days ago (he did a good job with this one).

so yes, him being a bad date is not unbeknownst to him. quite the opposite in fact, it’s not only something he knows about himself, but it’s also something that he thinks about all the time.

or at least, all the time ever since he’s met you.

that’s how the two of you end up here — the evening of your first (and probably last) date, sitting on a porch step of an empty building, a bloodied handkerchief filled with crushed up snow pressed against sakusa’s left cheek, and a few missing buttons from your favorite winter coat.

sakusa always knew he was a bad date, but he never thought he would be this bad.

the plan had been simple: get you flowers, open the door for you, drive you to the restaurant you liked. sakusa had this game-plan of his memorized ever since you said yes to him four — now five — days ago.

he wrote it on a piece of paper, step by step, and kept it in his wallet sleeve in case he forgets, he repeated it to himself three times in the mirror this afternoon before he left the house to pick you up, and he said it to himself one last time in the car before texting you that he’d arrived.

he memorized it.

and still, he messed it up.

the streets are empty and the evening is quiet.

“sorry … for this.”

his words feel like they’ve been the first to be spoken all night.

on the snowy concrete just below your feet, there’s a few drops of blood making its presence known loudly against the whiteness of the snow, the drops scatter sporadically, and near it, there’s a button or two from your coat.

you sit next to sakusa on the cold steps, it’s a quiet night, and it’s not snowing anymore, but the soft bed of the cold flurry it left behind made for a beautiful evening.

you let your head fall slightly on his shoulder, “for what?”

you can feel him stiffen immediately under your touch, and he coughs, shy, and looks to the side.

it makes you smile a little bit — his efforts of hiding his expressions — it’s not like you can see him anyway with that big makeshift ice-pack covering his face.

“sorry for the bad date.” he clears his throat, more clearly now, a little louder too, but his tone almost sounds disappointed. “… and sorry for ruining your coat.”

you lift your head up from his shoulder, frowning, and you turn to face him, “it’s not a bad date.”

he doesn’t say anything to that. instead, he keeps his head turned slightly away from you, but his shoulders fall a bit when you move away from him.

“if anything, i should be the one apologizing.” you mutter lowly, “i’m the reason you got hurt.”

sakusa huffs slightly. a second pausing in the air as he refuses to return the look you give him, and finally, he puts down the “ice pack” from his cheek, and looks at you.

his cheek is scratched lightly, nothing too deep, just a red mark that’ll probably resolve itself in a few days, but his lower lip though — the culprit of the blood stained snow — is undeniably busted, still bleeding slightly, and making him wince at the sudden loss of pressure.

“don’t say stupid things.” he tells you, and if it makes him sound cold, he swears he’s not trying to be.

he just doesn’t know what else there is to say.

the truth is — it is a bad date.

he forgot your flowers, almost hit you with the car door, and now, the two of you are missing your dinner reservation because he got himself injured twenty minutes into the night.

it’s not fair, he thinks. half the things he wants to say to you, he can’t. half the things he wants to do, he messes up.

you make him fumble on his words, tongue tied, speechless, literally. you make him write things down on notes so he won’t forget them or practice on bathroom mirrors or worry in his car outside your doorstep.

he is the most capable man in his team, he is the sharpest, the most composed, his teammates and coach all count and look up to him.

but for some reason, one night with you, and it all washes away.

he doesn’t know what to say to you, he forgets things, and he falls face first flat on the hard concrete ground twenty minutes into your first date.

don’t say stupid things.

“you really won’t let me take you to the hospital?” you put your hand on his knee, turning even more to your side so you can face him better.

you have half a mind to put your other hand on his injured cheek but you don’t want to hurt him more than how he already does.

“it’s not as bad as it looks.” and as he says that, he winces, the gust of wind suddenly hitting his busted lip a testament to his bad luck tonight.

sakusa wants to kick himself, if there ever would be an appropriate time to act cooler than how he actually was, it would definitely not be now.

you don’t look so convinced, but sakusa wouldn’t know, he’s still only limiting himself to looking at you briefly before shifting his glance to something behind you or beside you or above you.

“hm. and it doesn’t hurt?” you cross your arms.

he shakes his head, “no. it doesn’t.” (it does.)

you raise a brow, “and you wouldn’t happen to be lying to me right now so i don’t take you to the emergency room?”

he shakes his head again, “i’m not.” (he is.)

you give him a look.

listen — sakusa already knows that he’s a bad date, but come on! he has been planning on asking you to dinner with him since the first week he’s known you, he’s been worrying about this evening since the second you agreed to it, and he’s been kicking himself in the head ever since the night began.

he’d rather bleed out on this disgustingly dirty porch step than admit that he’s a date so bad he can turn an evening meant for dinner into a night at the emergency room.

he doesn’t want you to think that he can be so bad like that. (is it too soon to ask you out for dinner again?)

you still look frustrated at his answers. but at least, he’s looking at you now.

you let out a big sigh, shoulders falling, and suddenly, you clap your hands together loudly as you straighten up.

“then i have an idea.” you say, and sakusa furrows his brows at the sudden change in the atmosphere.

you give him a prompting grin. “heads or tails.”

and it catches him so off guard, he says aloud, “what?”

you dig for a coin in your coat, “i’ll flip a coin and if it lands on heads, we go to the emergency room, no arguments, no fusses, no nothing.”

he frowns at that.

“but.” you tell him, and your grin gets wider as you show him the dime laid out on your palm, “if it’s tails, we go to my apartment, and i’ll try to fix you up there.”

his frown falls almost immediately into something else.

one night out with you and he’s already bleeding heavily and injured, and now you wanna take him back to your apartment?

were you trying to kill him?

“heads or tails, omi.”

he blinks at your words. and once again, he finds himself saying aloud, “what?”

you shoot him a funny look, your eyebrows slightly raising as your lips curve upward into a crooked smile.

you say, teasing, “if you don’t know; heads is the part of the coin with the head of the person showing on it and tails is the–”

sakusa grumbles loudly, cutting you off mid-sentence, making sure you see him roll his eyes at you, and he nudges you slightly with his foot.

he mutters, albeit under his breath, and he tries to hide it, but you can always tell when he’s smiling, “i know what a goddamned head is.”

you shrug, your grin wider now when you see his mood lighten up a bit.

“do you know what a goddamned tail is?”

sakusa huffs out an amused sigh. the smile on his face a lot more prominent now, and you only wonder slightly if it hurts him when he does it.

his shoulders fall as he’s defeated, “just take me to the emergency room.”

you let out a short laugh and the night doesn’t seem so quiet anymore.

you fall back against his shoulder, “ah, omi, are you just saving the opportunity to be invited into my apartment for our next date?”

there’s a choking sound to be heard in the air.

his face almost feels like it’ll erupt into flames by how casually you just said that, a hot pink hue creeping up from his neck to nose all the way to the tips of his ears. he blames it on the cold, and immediately, he presses the “icepack” back against his cheek.

sakusa stands up suddenly from the porch step, “let’s go now.”

and just like he said, he strides away, faster than what would usually be safe on snow-covered pavement.

“omi, not so fast!” you yell after him, rising from your own seat and following his pace, “you might fall again and hurt the other side of your face and atsumu will think i beat you up on our first date.”

he walks faster.

“i can go to the hospital myself, please don’t follow me.”

“that’s ridiculous! let me take care of you!”

he trips on his feet slightly as you say that and his heart feels like it would’ve fell from his mouth had he not caught himself before falling again.

you really were trying to kill him, weren’t you?

maybe this date doesn’t feel so bad after all.

and, is it too soon if he asks you to come have dinner with him again?

[k1tk4ttt]

[barnesonly]

˗ˏˋ ★ Little Dove ★ ˎˊ˗

winter soldier x empath!reader

summary: Hydra sends you — a broken empath — into the Winter Soldier’s cell to keep him calm. You’re supposed to soften him. Control him. But instead, something starts to unravel. In both of you.

word count: 6301

WARNINGS: 18+ explicit content, MDNI— disclaimer: contains dark themes. read at your own discretion! angst, slowburn, captivity, tortures, hydra, violence, brainwashing, non-consensual experimentation, hurt/comfort, trauma, possible smut in future chapters? we’ll see.

Chapter Two | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

You still sit with him. You don’t break the silence.

You can’t.

Not when it feels like the air is finally holding something fragile between you — something that could crack open if you breathe too loud.

But then… it does crack.

Not from him.

From you.

Your voice comes quiet. Almost too quiet.

“…Can I touch you?”

The words surprise even you. Not because they’re sudden — they’ve been building, trapped behind your ribs for days — but because you said them out loud. Because you let the ache slip through.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

You press on, a little shakier now. “I just—” You swallow hard. “It’s hard to explain. But when I… when I touch people, I can feel more. It’s like something opens. And with you, it’s…” You hesitate, breath catching. “It’s pulling at me. Like it wants to happen. Like it’s already happening and I just — I need it to be real.”

Still no answer. But his breathing has shifted. Slower. Deeper. Not cold. Not distant. Listening.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” you add. “I don’t want to take anything. I just… I need to feel something. I need to know I’m still me. That you’re still you. Even if it’s just for a second.”

A beat.

Two.

You think he’s going to say no. Or worse — nothing at all. But then… his metal hand shifts slightly on the chain. Just enough to give you space. Just enough to say if you want to, you can.

Your breath hitches. You inch forward, slowly — not rushing, not pushing. You lift your hand with care, like you’re holding a thread of glass.

And when your fingertips graze his palm —

The world quiets.

It doesn’t explode. It doesn’t burn.

It settles.

A warmth pulses through you, slow and deep — not from him, not from you, but something that lives between you. Something buried and broken and barely stitched together.

You close your eyes. Just for a moment. Let yourself feel it. Let yourself have it.

His hand stays still in yours. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t pull away.

Your fingers rest lightly in his metal palm, and it’s not warm — not like human skin — but it’s solid. Real. The ridges and cool plates beneath your touch make your throat tighten.

You think you might cry.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

Not here.

So instead, you just stay like that — half-curled in front of him, knees aching, bones cold, but your hand held open against his. Like an offering. Like a prayer.

He could crush you. You know that. If he wanted to, he could break every bone in your hand before you had time to gasp.

But he doesn’t. He lets you touch him. Lets you stay.

And slowly — so slowly — the edge of tension in your body starts to ease. Not vanish. But soften. Settle. The way your power settles when you stop trying to contain it — humming low, like a second heartbeat in your spine.

His head tilts. Barely. Like he’s trying to understand you better. Like he’s watching your expression for something you haven’t said yet.

“Why do you want this?” he asks. His voice is quieter now. Not just low — gentle. Unfamiliar in his own mouth, like it hasn’t been used for softness in a long, long time.

You look at him. He’s beautiful in that terrifying way — all sharp lines and bruised silence and eyes that don’t know how to lie. But under it — under all the programming, under all the control — there’s a man. A soul. Hurt, maybe, but still there.

And for some reason… he’s letting you see it.

“I don’t know,” you admit. Your voice wavers. Your fingers tighten just a little in his hand. Not possessive — grounding.

“I think I’m just… tired. Of being nothing. Of pretending this doesn’t affect me.”

A pause. Then, even softer:

“When I’m near you, it’s like I can breathe again. Like something’s pulling at me, asking me to remember who I was before all this. Before them.”

You lower your gaze, suddenly unsure if you’ve said too much. If you’ve broken something sacred by naming it out loud.

But he doesn’t pull away.

Instead — unbelievably — he moves.

His thumb shifts slightly. Just enough to press against your knuckle. Not a squeeze. Not even pressure. Just presence.

Your breath shudders. And when you look up — his eyes are already on you.

Not blank.

Not empty.

Not the soldier they sent to kill.

But something else. Someone.

“You don’t feel like them,” he says quietly.

You blink. “What?”

He shakes his head once. A flicker of something — confusion, maybe. Vulnerability. The echo of a man trying to understand the light you carry into his darkness.

“You don’t feel like Hydra.”

Your lips part — not with a reply, but with the sharp pull of emotion in your chest. He felt that. He knows that. Somewhere deep inside, past all the noise, he knows you’re not like them.

You want to cry again. But instead — you whisper:

“Neither do you.”

A long silence stretches between you.

But this time, it’s not heavy.

It’s full.

And for the first time since you were thrown into this nightmare — you don’t feel alone.

Not completely.

Not while his hand is still in yours.

———

The lights are brighter in this room.

Not warm. Not comforting. Just clinical. Exposing.

You sit in the same chair as before, wrists folded neatly in your lap, trying not to show how badly your hands are shaking.

Agent Kern watches you across the metal table — same pristine uniform, same gloved fingers laced together, same sharp, unreadable stare. But there’s something different in him today. A tension. A stillness too exact to be casual.

He knows something.

You force yourself to keep breathing. One in. One out.

“You were with him for twenty-seven minutes,” Kern says calmly, reading off a clipboard like it’s scripture. “That’s longer than usual.”

You nod once. “He didn’t push me away.”

Kern doesn’t react. Just scribbles something. The scratch of his pen feels louder than it should.

“Did he speak?”

You hesitate. Just a second.

“Yes.”

Kern looks up at you. Not dramatically. Just a flick of his eyes — like a knife glinting in a dark hallway.

“And what did he say?”

Your throat tightens. “He asked why I touched him. I told him I needed it.”

Kern tilts his head. “Needed it?”

“Yes,” you say, a little too fast, “I can feel his emotions clearly this way. Being near him calms the noise. Makes me more stable.”

He watches you for another beat. You can almost hear the wheels turning behind his eyes.

“And what did he say to that?”

You hesitate again. Not for dramatic effect — just because you don’t know how much truth to offer before it becomes dangerous.

“He said I didn’t feel like them.”

Kern’s eyes narrow.

“That’s not an operational phrase.”

“No.”

“That’s not part of his language bank.”

You hold his gaze, heartbeat ticking hard against your ribs.

“I think it means he’s starting to… separate. Between who’s part of this and who isn’t. Between threat and non-threat.”

You expect a reaction — surprise, interest, anything… But Kern just leans back in his chair.

“Interesting,” he says finally. His voice is smooth. Too smooth. “And what do you think you are, exactly? Threat? Or tool?”

You blink. The words hit harder than you expect.

Tool. You’ve heard that one before. From the nurses. From the scientists. From your own mouth, whispering reminders to yourself in the cell when you forgot how to breathe.

Be useful. Be soft. Be what they need.

“I think,” you say quietly, “I’m the only one who sees him as a person.”

Kern’s expression doesn’t change.

But something shifts. His fingers twitch slightly — a restrained movement. A flash of something just below the surface. “You’re getting attached,” he says flatly.

“I’m doing my job.”

“Your job,” he echoes, eyes narrowing, “is to keep him stable. To soothe his aggression. Not to indulge your own need for connection.”

You flinch. Just slightly.

But it’s enough. He sees it.

“You were selected because you’re malleable,” Kern continues, voice colder now. “Not because he likes you. Not because you matter to him.”

You lower your gaze. The shame flares hot in your chest, but beneath it — quieter — there’s anger. A slow, steady ember.

You don’t answer.

He stands. “Session in two days. We’ll skip a day, let you reset.” he says. “We’ll be monitoring every heartbeat.”

You nod without looking up.

He leaves.

The door seals behind him. And once again, you’re alone. Alone with the weight of what you can’t say. With the memory of the Soldier’s hand in yours — unmoving, unreadable, but not rejecting.

You stay there for a while in the silence… And somewhere inside, beneath the shame and the exhaustion, you feel something curl in your chest and dig its claws in.

You matter.

You know you do.

Even if they don’t want you to.

Interview over.

———

They drag you back to your cell, drop you on the floor — the way they always do.

Your fingertips are digging into your palms now. Hard enough to leave half-moon shapes behind. You don’t even realize it until your vision starts to blur.

You’re not crying. Not exactly. It’s not tears. It’s… pressure. Like something behind your ribs is pressing too hard against the inside of your bones. Like if you exhale too much, you’ll break.

They want you calm.

They want you quiet.

They want you to walk back into that room in two days like nothing is wrong. Like it’s all working.

You rise stiffly and move to the sink in your corner cell. The water is cold, almost sharp, when you splash it on your face — but it doesn’t help. The shake in your hands doesn’t stop. Your reflection stares back, hollow-eyed and pale, like a ghost wearing your skin.

You shouldn’t go there.

The thought comes soft, unspoken.

You could say you’re sick. You could fake a fever, a tremor, anything. Kern wouldn’t risk losing control of his precious asset. They’d delay. They’d reschedule. You could buy yourself time.

Time to breathe.

Time to forget the weight of his hand in yours. The way his thumb moved — just slightly — like he was real. Like he was choosing to stay.

You grip the edge of the sink tighter.

Because the truth is… you’re not scared of him.

You’re scared of what you’re becoming.

You’re scared that the silence between you was the first time in months you’ve felt like a person. That the sound of his voice — low, cautious, gentle — has been playing on a loop in your mind ever since.

“Why do you want this?”

“You don’t feel like them.”

You press your fists to your chest like you can push the memory out.

You’re not supposed to feel this. You were meant to soothe him. Anchor him. Be a tether, not a mirror.

But something’s shifting now. You’re starting to see him. Not just the shell. Not just the Winter Soldier. The man underneath.

And worse — he’s starting to see you back.

You lean your forehead against the cold concrete wall, breath shallow.

Don’t go, you tell yourself. Just this once. Just rest. Tell them you’re unwell. Keep your distance. You don’t need him. You don’t need anyone.

But the truth slithers through you, dark and shameful.

You want to go back.

You want him to look at you again.

You want the silence. The stillness. The impossible safety of a man who could kill you in a heartbeat choosing not to.

You want to hear his voice again — not the blank voice they gave him, but the one that shook when he said your touch felt different.

Your knees give a little. You slide down the wall slowly, curl in on yourself.

And for the first time since you were dragged into this hell — you admit it.

You want him to choose you.

Not because he was ordered to. Not because you’re useful but because something inside him — something broken and forgotten — knows you.

You bury your face in your arms.

You won’t pretend to be sick.

You’ll go back.

Because you’re not afraid of the Soldier. You’re afraid of the way your heart beats quieter when he looks at you like you’re real.

And you don’t know if it’s love.

But it’s something.

And it’s already too late to stop it.

———

You step through like always — silent, steady, trained — but your heart is doing something wild behind your ribs. Like it’s trying to throw itself forward. Toward him.

He’s sitting exactly where he was all these times before. Ankles shackled, arms loose at his sides, head tilted slightly forward.

And again his eyes lift the moment you enter.

Not slowly. Not by accident. He waited.

Again.

You freeze for a half-second. Just long enough to catch it — the flicker in his face. The smallest change. A softening at the corner of his mouth. It’s not quite a smile.

But it’s close.

It’s gone in an instant — like he didn’t mean to let it slip.

But it happened.

And your breath catches like a wire pulled tight.

He saw you.

He sees you.

You sit across from him — slower than usual — not because you’re stalling, but because your body is listening now. Waiting to feel that strange stillness again. That hum between you. The one that doesn’t belong to Hydra.

For a few seconds, he just watches you. Not hostile. Not guarded. Just… present.

You wet your lips. Your voice is a whisper when it finally comes.

“Hi.”

His brow twitches. Not a reaction, not really — but not neutral, either. His head tilts just a little. “Why didn’t you come yesterday?” he asks.

You blink. You weren’t expecting that — for him to actually care this much about your presence. Or maybe you did?

I—” Your voice falters. You swallow. “Kern said so. Said we need time to reset”

“Kern?” His brow raised slightly.

“One of the agents.”

“Ah,” he nods, lightly. He’s quiet. Then, softly — softer than anything you’ve heard him say yet:

“I was waiting for you yesterday.”

The words hit you like a wave.

He missed you.

He doesn’t know it, maybe. Doesn’t have the language for it.

But his presence — his choice to say that — it’s everything.

Your hands fidget in your lap. You don’t reach for him this time. You don’t want to scare it off.

“You remembered I wasn’t there,” you say quietly, smiling softly at him, somehow with pride or maybe just pure happiness.

His eyes don’t leave yours.

“I remember you.”

The room tilts. You exhale shakily, eyes burning. You shouldn’t feel this much. You shouldn’t let it in. But the way he says it — like it costs him something — like every word is carved from stone and still he offers it to you. You nod. Just once. Like a vow.

He shifts slightly. The chains clink. Not threatening — just… movement. Adjustment. Like he’s trying to find where to put this feeling.

“I don’t know why I want you to come back,” he murmurs, eyes lowering. “But I do.”

You close your eyes. Just for a second. The pain in your chest is unbearable. Not because it hurts — but because it doesn’t. Because for the first time, you feel safe.

Not with the guards.

Not with the cameras.

Not with Kern.

With him. With the weapon they said could never be human again.

You don’t touch him this time, you don’t have to because when he looks up again — that not-quite-smile is back. Just a flicker. Just for you.

It stays there for half a breath longer this time before his face shutters again. There’s a thrum deep in your chest. Like something waking up. Something old and afraid and starved.

For connection.

For gentleness.

For someone who looks at you like you’re not a tool, not an asset, not a ghost in someone else’s war.

Just a girl.

Just a presence.

Your throat is dry, but you ask anyway — softly:

“What do you mean? About wanting me to come back.”

He doesn’t answer right away. His gaze drifts — down to your hands in your lap, to the floor, to the flicker of light overhead like it’s too bright now. Like he’s remembering something he’s not supposed to.

“I… don’t know,” he admits. “It’s easier when you’re here.”

The words are so quiet they could vanish. But they don’t. They land between you like a secret. You study him, unsure how to breathe around the ache blooming in your lungs.

“Easier?” you echo.

He nods, almost imperceptibly. His jaw tightens. You can tell it costs him something — not just to say it, but to feel it.

He shifts again. The metal chain tugs softly at his wrist, and his voice drops lower. “Everything else is loud. The missions. The resets. The voices.”

Your heart cracks.

“And me?”

He looks at you.

This time, really looks — not like a soldier cataloging a target, but like a man trying to remember what peace looks like.

“You’re quiet,” he says. “Not in your voice. Just… in here.” He taps a finger to his temple.

You blink. He means your mind. The place no one else ever touches without breaking something. You blink again, and tears threaten — hot, unwelcome, dangerous. You look away fast. You don’t want him to see.

But he already has. His metal hand shifts, inching forward on instinct — not close enough to touch, but almost. “I just… I don’t like when you’re gone,” he says, and it sounds raw. Unfiltered.

It cuts straight through you. You lift your eyes again. “Neither do I.”

There’s silence. Thick, heavy silence.

But it isn’t empty.

It means something now.

You feel it — like the gravity in the room changed. Like you could fall into him if you let yourself.

His eyes are still on you.

“You should touch me again,” he says suddenly.

It knocks the wind from you. Your lips part. “What?”

“Like last time,” he says, low. “When you asked.”

Your pulse spikes. You hadn’t thought he would ask you that. Not that.

“Did you like it?” you whisper, heart pounding.

He nods once. “Didn’t hurt,” he says.

Then, softer: “Felt real.”

Your hand moves without thinking — slow, careful — like you’re reaching for a wounded animal and when your fingertips brush his metal hand this time, he doesn’t flinch.

He watches the contact. Watches you.

And then — impossibly — he turns his hand over, offering the palm.

Letting you hold it.

Like he’s ready.

Like he wants it.

You curl your fingers into his and lets out a breath.

And that smile — that flicker — returns. Still small. Still almost nothing… But it’s there for you.

His hand is heavy in yours — cool metal, impossible strength — but it doesn’t scare you.

Because he gave it to you.

Because he chose.

And now he’s watching you again — not the way he did before, sharp and assessing — but like he’s trying to understand something. Something inside you he doesn’t have words for yet. You stroke your thumb gently across the metal. He glances down at the contact.

Then — his voice, low and strange:

“Do they hurt you?”

You freeze. Your breath catches. He doesn’t look up right away, like he’s afraid of the answer. Or what it’ll do to him and you don’t answer at first. You can’t. Because something in your chest is splintering. Not from fear. Not from pain. From being seen.

You swallow hard. Try to speak. “Why are you asking me that?”

He finally lifts his gaze… And his eyes — god — there’s something new in them now. A tension. A fury, quiet and coiled. Still buried deep beneath all the conditioning, but there.

Because you didn’t say no.

Because you hesitated.

His jaw works. “I know what it’s like. To be used.”

Your lips part, you want to say something but the words don’t come because he’s still speaking. Still unfolding.

“They hurt me,” he says, voice flat. “Strap me down. Run wires through my skull. Rip out what they don’t like and fill it with noise.” His jaw clenches. “I hate them,” he says. The words are soft. Final.

Then he glances at your hand still wrapped in his — as if realizing it’s the only gentle thing in the room. “I don’t want them to do that to you.”

Your throat is too tight to answer.

He leans forward slightly. Just an inch. Just enough for you to feel it — the weight of his concern. The shield forming where no one taught him to build one.

“Did they hurt you?” he asks again, quieter this time.

And you realize: he isn’t asking to know. He’s asking so he can remember. So he can stop them. So he can keep that one piece of you safe — whatever part they haven’t already broken.

You try to smile. It trembles. “Not the way they hurt you,” you say. “But… it’s not easy.”

His eyes narrow slightly. A flicker of emotion — one that doesn’t belong to Hydra. Not discipline. Not calculation.

Something almost… feral.

You squeeze his hand gently. “They tell me I’m here to help you,” you whisper. “But it doesn’t feel like that.”

He tilts his head. “What does it feel like?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Because what it feels like — right now — is this:

You, sitting across from a man who was turned into a ghost, who was stripped of everything soft — and still, somehow, he is trying to protect you.

And that makes you feel something so devastatingly human, you don’t know what to do with it. So instead, you whisper the only truth that doesn’t hurt:

“I like it better when it’s just us.”

His gaze lingers on your face.

“Me too.”

You’re still holding his hand when the door creaks open. You both flinch — not from fear. From instinct.

You don’t know how long you sat there, it didn’t feel real. You snap back to reality the moment you hear the door open.

The spell breaks.

Kern enters like he always does: clipboard in one hand, a pen tapping against his thigh. But this time, he doesn’t approach with tests or notes. He stays near the door. Watching.

You straighten slowly, tense. The soldier shifts too, eyes flicking from you to the intruder. His fingers tighten around yours.

And that’s when you know something’s wrong.

Kern’s expression is too calm. Too still. He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing.

“Let’s run a little test,” he says. “Shall we?”

You open your mouth. “Kern—”

But it’s already too late.

His voice is low. Deliberate. And Russian.

“Желание.”

Soldier jerks. His breath hitches — not a gasp, but close. Like something inside him just twitched.

You turn sharply. “Stop it—!”

Kern’s voice is louder now. Crisp. Measured. “Ржавый. Семнадцать. Рассвет.”

“No—!” You lurch to your feet, but Soldier doesn’t move. He can’t.

He’s shaking now — barely. Like his muscles are locked in a war you can’t see.

“Печь. Девять.”

His jaw clenches. The metal hand curls into a fist.

“Kern, please!” you snap.

But Kern doesn’t even blink. “Добросердечный. Возвращение на родину.”

Soldier lurches forward like he’s being pulled. His breath is ragged now — almost a growl.

You reach for him. You try, you so desperately try to stop this, whatever this is. You try to hold it together. You turn to The Soldier, you try to speak to him through it. “It’s okay. You’re okay—”

And then, softly, Kern finishes it:

“Один. Грузовой вагон.”

Silence.

He rises.

Like a shadow.

Like something unchained.

Your breath catches as you stumble backward.

He’s looking through you now. Like you’re not there. Not really. The Soldier’s breathing is fast now. His eyes dart — not to Kern. Not to you. To the floor. To the air. Like he’s somewhere else.

Kern watches like a scientist in a lab.

You know what this is — what he wants. He’s trying to break it. Break you. Wants to see if he will hurt you. Wants to prove you’re wrong to believe he’s something more than a weapon.

Your voice trembles. “Please…”

He steps forward. Slow. Measured. His eyes are wide but empty. Hollow.

“It’s me. Little Dove. You remember me.”

Nothing.

You don’t move. You don’t run. You just breathe — slow and steady — even though your body is screaming. “Please,” you whisper, “don’t let them take this from you.”

His metal arm lifts. You flinch—but don’t close your eyes.

He stops. His hand shakes. Hard. Like he’s fighting it. Like there’s something else screaming inside him, too.

And then everything snaps.

The Soldier grabs you by the throat. You don’t even have time to scream. The cold of his metal hand is the first thing you feel — the pressure second. He pins you back, not slamming but shoving, calculated and brutal. Your feet skid against the floor. Your hands claw at his wrist.

You can’t breathe.

Your vision starts to blur.

But you don’t fight him. You look at him and your lips move even without air. “Please.”

For a heartbeat, nothing happens.

Then — his expression cracks. His eyes widen. Blink. Blink again.

And then he sees you.

The Soldier’s grip falters.

He looks down at his hand.

At your throat.

At the bruises already forming.

And he stumbles back like he’s been shot.

He releases you so fast you hit the ground coughing, air burning in your lungs. His gaze is still fixed on his own hand.

Like he doesn’t understand how it got there.

Like it betrayed him.

He backs up. Shaking. Trembling. His mouth opens like he’s going to say something — but nothing comes out.

Kern, still standing by the door, clicks his pen.

“Interesting,” he says mildly.

You look up at him, eyes burning. “You did this,” you rasp.

But he’s not even looking at you anymore.

He’s watching the Soldier — who’s still staring at his metal arm, like it’s no longer a part of him. Like it’s a weapon that acted on its own.

And maybe it did.

Kern smiles faintly, glancing at you.

“Good to know the programming still works on you.”

You’re still gasping when the door bursts open again. Two guards sweep in like a storm — faceless, armored, efficient. You barely lift your head before they’re on you.

“Wait—” your voice is hoarse, broken. “Don’t—”

Gloved hands seize your arms.

You thrash, cough, try to hold onto the floor, something, but they’ve done this too many times. You’re yanked to your feet with such force your knees nearly buckle.

The Soldier jerks forward. Not far — the chains stop him. But his body reacts on instinct. Like he’s going to stop them.

And then he doesn’t.

He freezes.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t reach. Doesn’t fight.

He just stands there, watching.

Frozen in horror.

Like if he moves again, he’ll hurt you worse.

Like he already believes he’s a monster.

“Let me go!” you cry, struggling hard now. “He didn’t mean to—”

The guards don’t care. They drag you out anyway.

Your feet scrape against the floor. You’re coughing and pulling and twisting, but the Soldier’s eyes never leave yours — not even when you disappear through the door, not even when Kern steps into his line of sight again.

That shattered look stays. Even when you’re gone.

And Kern?

He just laughs under his breath.

“Attachment,” he says casually. “Always the most fragile weakness.”

———

The cell door slams behind you like a gunshot.

You stumble forward, landing hard on your knees. The air still won’t come right — your throat burns, every breath a jagged edge.

You’re not crying.

You won’t.

Even if your hands are shaking, even if your neck is raw and purpled, even if your chest feels like something has been torn out — you refuse to give them that.

The heavy click of boots follows. You don’t need to look to know it’s him.

Kern.

He lets the silence stretch long, lets it crawl into the corners of the room like mold.

“I warned you,” he says at last, voice calm. Too calm. “You get too close to fire — you’ll get burned, little dove.” He lets out a dark chuckle. “Such a nickname he’s got you, huh?”

You press your palms into the floor. You want to rise. You want to scream.

But you’re still trying to breathe.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he continues. “That was always going to happen. It’s what he is. What he was made to be.”

Your voice is hoarse when it scrapes out. “You did it on purpose.”

He crouches beside you, one hand on his knee, the other tapping a cigarette against a silver case he hasn’t even opened.

“I reminded him,” Kern says with mock patience. “That’s all. A few simple words. And look how fast he remembered who he belongs to.”

You look up at him now — eyes burning.

“That wasn’t him.”

Kern grins, small and smug. “No? Then who was it choking the life out of you?”

You don’t blink. “You.”

That wipes the grin clean off his face for a second. But he recovers fast — steps back with a small exhale, like you’ve amused him instead of landed a blow.

“Sentimental attachment makes you sloppy,” he says. “We needed to reset expectations.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your voice is fraying.

But your glare says enough.

Kern taps his cigarette case once against the bars before turning for the exit.

“Rest up. You’ll see him again soon. Maybe next time he’ll finish the job.”

And then he’s gone.

The door slams shut again. This time it sounds like the end of something.

But you pull yourself up slowly, hands trembling, blood singing in your ears.

Because it’s not the end.

Not even close.

———

You step into the room like always.

But nothing feels like always.

Your throat still aches — not from the pressure, but from the silence that followed. From the sound of his voice gone flat. From the feel of cold metal where warmth had started to grow.

Your skin blooms with bruises — stark against your collarbone and the fragile stem of your neck. You tried to cover them. Kern didn’t bother. Maybe he wanted them seen.

Maybe he wanted to see them.

But the Winter Soldier doesn’t look at you.

He always did. Every time before, the second you crossed the threshold, his gaze found yours — sharp, searching, strange.

Now? His head is down. Eyes low. Shackled hands limp in his lap.

And the silence is unbearable.

You swallow — wincing at the pull. You take slow, careful steps towards him and sit down on the ground next to him without a word. You try not to flinch when the chains rattle. Try not to remember the sound of them dragging as he stood and reached for your throat.

His voice, when it finally comes, is hoarse.

“I told them I didn’t want you back.”

Your heart doesn’t break.

It sinks — cold and slow, like it’s being drowned.

You don’t answer right away. You don’t know how.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says next — quiet, broken. “I told them. I told them.”

His hands flex in the cuffs. Not violently. Like he’s checking they’re still there. That he’s still bound.

“I would never—” He cuts off. Shakes his head like the words don’t belong to him.

You sit still. You have to — not out of fear, but something deeper. Something aching. You see it on him. In him.

He’s afraid.

Not of you.

Of himself.

“It wasn’t you,” you say softly.

He flinches. “I hurt you,” he mutters, barely audible. “I saw the marks. I felt it.” He glances at your bruised neck. “I still see them.”

You want to reach for him — god, you do — but you don’t because you know — even your kindness could cut him now.

“I wasn’t afraid of you,” you whisper.

His head lifts just slightly — not all the way. Like he wants to look, but can’t bear what he’ll see.

“Then what were you afraid of?” he asks, voice splintering.

You meet his eyes — because someone has to.

“Of losing you to them.”

That gets him.

His jaw tightens, eyes burning with something he doesn’t have a name for. His whole body goes still, like if he breathes wrong, he’ll shatter.

“I don’t want to be theirs anymore,” he says, and it’s a confession. A plea. “But they live in me.”

“They don’t have to win,” you say. “Not if you fight.”

“And if I lose?”

“You won’t lose me.”

He looks at you now and there’s so much pain in it — but something else, too. Something like hope.

You sit in the quiet, watching him. His face is unreadable again — the stillness of a weapon, not a man.

But you know better now. Slowly — so slowly — you lift your hand. Just an inch off your thigh. Palm open. Gentle. Not demanding. Just offering.

He sees it.

And flinches.

“Don’t.”

It’s sharp. Not loud, but final. Like he’s choking on glass.

Your hand falls. Your throat closes and then — because you can’t just leave it there — your voice cracks open.

“Please.”

He shakes his head. Not at you. At himself.

“I can’t… I don’t trust what I’ll do.”

You blink through the burn in your eyes. You don’t look away.

“I do.”

He exhales through his nose, bitter and broken.

“You shouldn’t.”

You inch closer, your fingers trembling in your lap.

“They made you do it,” you whisper. “Not you. Not the man who waited for me. Who remembered me.”

He looks at you — and it’s unbearable. His eyes are wild with guilt. With panic.

“They’ll do it again,” he rasps. “You don’t understand. They live in me.”

“I don’t care,” you say, and the truth of it rocks through you. “They can live in you. They can whisper and push and break you in every way — but they don’t get this.”

He’s frozen.

“This thing we built?” you whisper. “They don’t get it. Not unless we give it to them.”

His breath is ragged now. Like he’s drowning. Like every word you speak is pulling him toward the surface and he doesn’t know how to breathe up here anymore.

“I don’t have anyone else,” you say. “It’s you. It’s always been you.” You reach for him again. Hand open. Shaking. “Please,” you whisper. “Let me remind you.”

And this time — this time — he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t move, either. Doesn’t lean in or meet your touch. He just lets it happen.

Your fingers brush the back of his hand — barely there. Just skin against metal. Warmth against cold.

His eyes close like it hurts. Not the pain of impact. The pain of trust.

You just sit there, hand resting lightly over his. He just feels human and he lets you hold what little of him is left.

You don’t mean to say it.

Not here. Not like this.

But the words have been sitting in your chest too long, and they hurt more staying quiet.

“I’m not sure what I feel toward you,” you whisper.

His head shifts slightly. Just enough to show he’s listening — but he doesn’t look at you. Not yet.

Your fingers curl against your knees. You stare at them like they might hold the rest of the sentence.

“But it’s… something.”

He still doesn’t move.

“And I know I shouldn’t feel anything at all. Not for you. Not in this place.” You let out a dry, quiet breath. “But I do.”

The silence stretches — and for a second, it feels unbearable. Like you might shatter inside it.

“I don’t know what to call it,” you murmur. “But I keep thinking about you. Not just when I’m here.”

You glance up. His jaw is tight. Shoulders locked. Like he’s holding something back with all the force he has.

“And I know it’s stupid,” you go on, voice cracking. “I know they could rip it away at any second. But what we’ve built — this thing between us — it means something.”

He flinches like it hurts to hear that.

But you keep going. Because if you don’t say it now, you never will.

“You said you remembered me.” Your throat tightens. “Even when you weren’t supposed to. Even when you probably didn’t want to.”

You lift your eyes to him again. This time, he meets them.

And the look he gives you — it wrecks you.

Because it’s not blank. It’s not cold.

It’s grief.

“I don’t want to lose that,” you say softly. “I don’t want to lose you.”

And for the first time in too long — he reaches back.

Slowly, like he’s not sure if the moment is real — like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he touches you wrong — he leans forward.

You barely breathe.

His metal hand rises first. Hesitates midair.

Then it cups your cheek — careful, gentle, reverent.

You don’t move. You don’t flinch.

And when he leans in — when his lips brush yours — it’s not with hunger. It’s not control.

It’s longing. It’s fear. It’s hope.

And you kiss him back like it’s the only real thing in the world.

Because maybe it is.

Next Chapter 🕊️

[finleycannotdraw]

we need all types of art in fandoms

[whatsverstappeningnow]

how f1 drivers react

when they notice you haven't been eating enough (requested)

drivers mentioned: MV33, LN4, OP81, AA23, CS55, CL16, LH44, GR63

-> tw: obviously references to ED behaviours and not eating, reader discretion is advised if this is a trigger for you!

max verstappen

You thought you were being careful. Smiling while he cooked. Saying you were full from lunch and moving the food around your plate just enough to make it seem like you’d eaten more than you had. You knew it was wrong, you should say something, but couldn't find the words.

You thought you were getting away with it.

Then one night, after a particularly long, stressful day, while the two of are getting ready for bed, Max quietly hands you one of his redbull hoodies. It feels like a peace offering. He's silent for a moment, like he too is struggling to the the right words.

“You’ve lost weight.”

You freeze with your arms halfway in the sleeves, eyes wide and aimed at the ground. “What?”

His tone is neutral, forcibly so, but his eyes aren’t. They’re serious. Studying your reaction.

“I can feel it when I hug you,” he says, blunt and truthful. “You’re smaller. You're tired all the time. You barely touched dinner. Not the for the first time, either”

You try to deflect. “I’m fine. It’s just stress...work’s been a lot—”

“I’m not judging,” he interrupts softly, hands on his hips. “But don’t lie to me. Not about this, schatje.”

You stare at the floor, guilt swirling and pooling in your stomach. His hands find your waist, thumbs brushing over your hips as if to emphasize what he already noticed. He leans in just enough that his forehead touches yours, leaning against eachother softly.

“I know you think it’s not a big deal. But it is to me,” he murmurs. “I don’t care if it’s small meals, snacks, whatever... but you need somehting. I need to know you’re okay.”

Then, after a long pause, “Please don’t shut me out. Your hurting the woman I care about, I can't let you do that.”

He doesn’t push after that. Just holds you tighter that night. Makes breakfast the next morning and doesn’t say a word when you take the plate. Just smiles a little when you pick up the fork.

lando norris

You’re lying on your stomach across your bed, scrolling through your phone aimlessly, when Lando flops down beside you with a sigh. You laugh at his sudden, unexpected appearance, but it dies out when he you don't hear him join in.

“I’m gonna say something, and you’re not allowed to get weird about it.”

You glance over, up your phone down, suspicious, but trying to lighten the tone. The sudden seriousness leaves you uncomfortable. "Hm, ominous."

He gives you a look, one that says he's not joking for once.

“You haven’t really eaten today. Or much yesterday. And I don’t think that’s nothing.”

You open your mouth to deflect, but Lando cuts in, gentler now.

“I’m not mad. I just… I want you to know that I notice these things. I don't want you to hide this stuff. I'm a... a bit hurt that you thought you had to.”

"I didn't mean to it's just. It's hard to talk about this stuff," you try to explain.

"I know that. Of course, I know that. But we spend hours talking about how I'm going, where my head is at, and that's not a one way street, love."

He nudges your shoulder lightly when you you can't find the words to say. “Let me take care of you, yeah? We’ll order something...anything you want! You don’t even have to leave the bed.”

And when you nod, he grins and kisses your cheek like it’s no big deal...like loving you includes this, too.

oscar piastri

Oscar notices something's off before you say even say anything.

You're out running errands together and get dizzy out of nowhere in the middle of the store. You hand grips his as you try and blink away the blurry spots. He's quick to put a hand on your back to help you stay up right, and even quicker to ask whats wrong.

You try to brush it off , I probably just need water or something, but he doesn’t buy it. The crease between his eyebrows deepens.

“You’ve been lightheaded more than once this week.”

You blink at him, surprised, heart suddenly beating faster than before. “No, I haven't.”

But he nods like you've said the opposite. Eyes searching yours for... something.

“I’ve also noticed you keep skipping breakfast a lot. And lunch, probably, if I'm not home with you. And you’re ‘just tired’ every night.”

Oscar isn’t dramatic about it. He just says it plainly, as truth, fact. But that just makes it harder to brush off.

“I’m worried,” he admits, voice quieter, hand holding yours tightly. “You don’t have to explain it all right now. But I need to know you’re okay... I need to know if you're not.”

You murmur that you're not sure what's going on, and it's the truth. Oscar doesn’t press.

“Let’s get head home. Have something easy. And if you don’t want to talk, we can just sit.”

"I'm sorry," you whisper to him, unsure of what to say.

"Please don't apologise. I love you. I want you to be well."

carlos sainz

You’re on your apartment balcony together, lounging around after a long morning sleep in. Carlos offers to make you breakfast, but you tell him not to bother. You’re not hungry.

He pauses mid-step, one foot inside, one still on the balcony. Looks at you, slightly offended on your behalf.

“No desayuno? Why not?”

You shrug, trying to keep your tone light. “I don’t know. I just… don’t feel like eating, I guess.”

Carlos doesn’t say anything at first. He just watches you. But the crease between his brows deepens, and then he's moving toward you, slowly, like he’s approaching something fragile. Maybe he is.

“You’ve skipped too many meals this week, mi vida. I’m not blind.”

His voice is quiet but firm, that kind of gentle stubbornness you’ve learned not to argue with. The kind that comes from a place of love, not discipline. You look down, suddenly finding it too hard to look Carlos in the eyes, but he doesn’t let the moment slip by so easily.

He finally steps right behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist lightly, and resting his chin on your shoulder. His voice is softer now, words whispered right into your ear like a sweet secret for just the two of you.

“I don’t need you to be perfect. I need you to take care of yourself.”

His fingers rub little circles into your sides, grounding and steady.

And before you can come up with a deflection, he’s pulling away just enough to kiss the side of your temple and mutter, “I’ll make something light. You don’t have to finish it. Just try.”

It’s not about food. Not really. It’s about how he wants you well. Wants you cared for. It's about showing you you are loved, and deserve to be taken care of.

alex albon

You're facetiming while he’s away, talking about qualifying, how the pets are doing, your plans for tomorrow, what you did earlier that day, when you offhandedly say, “I had a granola bar today, that counts, right?”

He laughs at first, caught up in your cute rambling. Then stops suddenly, all the humour draining from his face in a milisecond.

“Wait, that was all you had? Actually?”

You realize too late how that sounds. You can't take the words back now, and you can't find it in you to play it off as a complete joke. Part of you wants him to know.

Alex's expression shifts immediately. “Babe… You need to eat. No excuses.”

He leans in closer to the screen, voice suddenly quieter.

“Are you alright? Seriously.”

You start to downplay it, words coming out quickly to cover yourself, you weren't that hungry today, you were busy, you would eat later to make up for it, but he shakes his head gently at each excuse.

“Hey, hey. You don’t need to explain if you’re not ready. I’ve been there, I get it. But I wish you’d told me. I would’ve sent you like… twenty reminders. Or ubereats meals.”

Despite the worry, he smiles at you, soft and sweet, with the kind of look he always has before he leans in to kiss you.

“Okay. We’re ordering food together, right now. Virtual dinner date? I'll get room servivce, order something to the house for you. Yeah?”

You laugh, tear up a little, and agree. He smiles bright at your agreeance, beaming with pride.

charles leclerc

You're halfway through slicing vegetables for dinner when you say it. You'd been tossing up the right words to say all day. Deflecting is an art.

“I’m not really hungry tonight, but you go ahead.”

Charles doesn’t respond right away. Just finishes stirring the pan in front of him, sets the spoon down carefully, and, without another word, switches the stove completely off.

You glance up, confused and stunned. “What are you doing? That's not done yet.”

He simply shrugs. “If you’re not eating, then we’re not cooking.”

There’s no edge in his tone. No accusation. Just quiet finality, as if he had anticipated you not wanting to eat.

You blink, confused. “Charles, that’s ridiculous. You shouldn’t skip dinner just because—”

“Because you are?” he says gently, stepping away from the stove and closer to you. “No, I shouldn’t. But I’m not going to sit here and act like I haven’t noticed what you're doing”

He closes the space between you, wiping his hands on a dish towel before setting it aside.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, chéri,” he says quietly, searching your expression for the truth of the situation, but coming up empty. “I just want you to take care of yourself. And if I can help, even just a little, I will. If this is what it takes for you to know it is unhealthy, then I will do it.”

Charles reaches out and pulls you gently into his embrace. One hand on your back, the other smoothing your hair behind your ear. When he speaks again, his voice is soft against your skin. “Even if it’s just toast and juice. Even if it’s small. I’ll eat with you.”

You nod slowly, not because you’re convinced you can finish a whole meal, but because the idea of sitting across from him, even with something simple, suddenly feels like something you can do. Something you want to try. For him.

So he kisses your temple, rubs his hand down your back once again, and then says, “I’ll make tea. You pick the bread. Oui?”

lewis hamilton

You’re pacing around, trying to get stuff done, arms filled with knick-knacks you should have put away ages ago, when Lewis gently intercepts you. Hands on your upper arms, holding you still.

“You’ve been running nonstop all day, love. Did you eat yet?”

You wave him off. “I haven’t had time.”

That makes him stop cold. He exhales, long and hard, then walks over and takes your hands in his.

“That’s not okay.”

You go to respond, but Lewis lifts a hand. Gently, calmly stopping you.

“I’m not upset. But I also… don’t think this is the first time you’ve let yourself forget about food. And it’s scaring me a bit.”

“It’s not like that… I promise,” you reply in a hushed tone.

His thumb traces small circles over your knuckles, constant and soft.

“Ok, and I trust you to know if it was like that you could tell me. But I’ve seen what burnout looks like. What forgetting to take care of yourself does. I won’t stand by and watch it happen to you too. I love you too much to watch you crash and burn.”

"Lewis—"

He takes all the clothes and cups from your arms and places them on the table, leaving your hands empty and your heart beating fast.

He leans in and kisses your forehead, hushing you. “Let’s start small. Something warm. Something easy. Please? Gotta make sure my girl is taken care of.”

He doesn’t ask for more. Just reminds you, with every soft word and touch, that you’re worth taking care of, even on the days when you forget how.

george russell

You're lying in bed together when George brings it up for the first time.

"Love, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me. Please?"

When you turn to look at him, his face is dead serious, his undereye bags heavy and dark like something’s been worried about something for a while.

"You haven’t been eating enough." He says it quietly, thumb brushing just beneath your cheekbone like he’s afraid he’s already said too much.

"That’s not a question," you reply, a little too fast. A little too defensive.

George doesn’t take the bait. He just watches you for a second, gaze steady but soft. There’s no judgment in it, only worry.

“I know,” he says. “But I’ve been holding it in, waiting for you to come to me, waiting for the right time, and... I guess there isn’t one, is there?”

You sigh, low and long from the weight of everything you've been feeling. He shifts closer, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I’m not angry. I don't want you to think that. I just...noticed recently. And I didn’t want to corner you, or make you feel.. attacked, but I love you, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t see what’s happening.”

You rest your forehead against his chest, and his hand runs gently up and down your back.

“You don’t have to explain anything right now,” he murmurs. “Just let me help. We can start slow. A good breakfast tomorrow. I’ll make tea. We can talk about it, if you'd like. One thing at a time. Yeah?”

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, none of that. This isn't something you need to apologise for. I got you. We got this."

You nod against him, curling tighter into his soft hold. George presses a soft kiss to the top of your head like a promise. One that says: you’re not doing this alone.

lowkey inspired by both the anon request and the quote "i love you, i want us both to eat well" <3

[ctrlzirl]

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.