#but the love is still there its simmering

[aventurineswife]

can i request boothill, aventurine, and jing yuan with a jealous gender neutral reader? every time the jealousy tag is added to a fic, it’s always for the character and leaves me wondering what the opposite would be like. feel free to delete if you’ve written something like this before and thank you for your service to the hsr community 🫡

Jealousy, Jealousy

Tags: Boothill x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Jealousy, Emotional Conflict, Fluff with Minor Angst, Romantic Tension, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Protective Partner, Light Humor (?).

Warnings: Mild jealousy and insecurity themes, Brief mentions of violence or conflict(?), Emotional vulnerability, Slight suggestive undertones (Aventurine's part).

A/N: Totally get you because there's not many fics out there where Reader is the ONE who's jealous 🫣, I did the opposite one where the characters were jealous so this my first time writing where the Reader is jealous. Hope you love it!

The smoky haze of the cantina mingled with the scent of leather and gunpowder, a typical night for Boothill. The Galaxy Ranger leaned against the bar, his mechanical fingers tracing the rim of a half-full glass of whiskey. You stood nearby, trying to keep your composure as a stranger—a suave-looking gunslinger—sidled up to Boothill with a sly grin.

“You’ve got quite the reputation,” the stranger drawled, tipping their hat. “A sharpshooter like you must’ve broken a few hearts.”

Boothill chuckled, showing his shark-like teeth. “Nah, hearts ain’t my target. Bullets don’t play favorites.”

The stranger laughed and leaned closer, their words drowned out by the raucous music, but their intentions were crystal clear. Your chest tightened as you watched Boothill’s sharp eyes glint with amusement.

“Hey,” you interrupted, your voice steady but laced with irritation. “Boothill, aren’t you forgetting something?”

He turned to you, eyebrow raised. “What’s that, partner?”

“That I’m the only one who gets to sit that close to you.” you said firmly, crossing your arms.

Boothill’s grin widened as he pushed the stranger back with a mechanical hand. “Well, ain’t that somethin’? Looks like I’m already claimed.” He stood, draping his arm around your shoulders. “Guess you’ll have to find another cowboy to sweet-talk.”

The stranger huffed and walked off, leaving you and Boothill alone. He leaned closer, his voice soft and teasing. “Didn’t know you were the jealous type, sugar.”

You jabbed a finger at his chest. “Maybe if you weren’t so charming, I wouldn’t have to be.”

Boothill laughed, his voice rich and warm. “Don’t you worry. You’re the only one who’s got a claim on this gunslinger.”

The roulette wheel spun, its clinking sound echoing through the luxurious casino. Aventurine stood at the center of attention, effortlessly charming the crowd with his flamboyant gestures and glittering smile. His eyes glinted as he placed another bet, drawing cheers from his admirers.

You stood on the sidelines, your jaw clenched as a particularly bold admirer leaned over, whispering something in his ear. Aventurine’s laughter rang out, smooth and melodious, but it only fueled the fire simmering within you.

You strode forward, catching his wrist just as he reached for another stack of chips. “Having fun?” you asked, your tone sharp enough to slice through his entourage's chatter.

Aventurine blinked, then grinned, clearly amused by your sudden intrusion. “Ah, my lucky charm,” he said, pulling you closer. “Jealous, are we?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be if you weren’t flirting with half the casino.” you shot back, narrowing your eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression equal parts playful and sincere. “Now, now. You know there’s only one person I’m truly invested in.”

“Then maybe show it more often,” you muttered, glancing at the crowd still watching him with longing gazes.

Aventurine chuckled and leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “If it helps, I only play games I know I’ll win. And with you, darling, the jackpot’s already mine.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. Aventurine’s charm was infuriatingly effective, and he knew it.

The sun filtered through the branches of the garden, casting dappled shadows on the stone pathway. Jing Yuan reclined on a bench, his eyes half-lidded as he enjoyed the rare moment of peace. You approached quietly, only to pause as you spotted a young soldier eagerly engaging him in conversation.

“You’re so wise, General,” the soldier gushed. “It’s no wonder everyone looks up to you.”

Jing Yuan chuckled, his deep voice smooth as silk. “Wisdom comes with age, and age comes with its own set of burdens.”

The soldier blushed, clearly enamored. Your hands curled into fists as jealousy bubbled up. Jing Yuan noticed your approach, his gaze softening. “Ah, there you are,” he said, waving you over. “Come, join us.”

The soldier glanced at you but didn’t move, still lingering too close for comfort. You stepped forward, meeting Jing Yuan’s gaze with a pointed look. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all,” he replied, patting the bench beside him. “We were just discussing the importance of patience in leadership.”

“I see,” you said, your voice cool. “Well, I hope the lesson was enlightening.”

The soldier finally took the hint and excused themselves, leaving you and Jing Yuan alone. He tilted his head, studying you with a knowing smile. “You seemed… displeased.”

“Maybe I don’t like sharing.” you admitted, crossing your arms.

Jing Yuan reached out, taking your hand in his. “You have nothing to worry about. My heart belongs to you, and no amount of flattery will change that.”

You sighed, feeling the tension drain away as his thumb brushed against your knuckles. “You’re lucky you’re so convincing.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer. “And you’re lucky I find your jealousy endearing.”

[the-winter-spider]

I miss you, I'm sorry

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 10k+

Warnings: Toxic, angst, smut

A/N: I love Gracie, and was like fuck it gonna toss something together based off my fav songs by her

The air feels heavy, even though the room is quiet. You sit cross-legged on your bed, your phone resting beside you, the screen dim and blank. The minutes bleed into each other, but you can’t stop glancing at the clock, as if willing it to rewind to before it all.

It’s been three days. Three days of no texts, no calls, no nothing. That’s how it always goes with Bucky. He’s there, and then he’s not. And every time, you tell yourself it’ll be the last time you wait for him to come back.

It never is.

You hate him for how easy it is to disappear. You hate yourself more for letting him.

The phone rings.

The sharp sound cuts through the haze of your thoughts, and for a moment, your heart skips. You snatch the phone up, seeing his name flash across the screen. The sight of it sends a rush of relief, anger, and something softer, something stupidly hopeful, all at once.

You answer, but don’t say anything.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet, gravelly. Tired.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Hey.”

The silence stretches, brittle and uncomfortable. You can hear him breathing on the other end, steady and soft. It reminds you of the way his breath felt against your skin the last time he stayed over, the last time he let himself get too close before pulling away again.

“I shouldn’t have called,” he mutters finally, his voice tight. “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

You close your eyes. There it is again, the push and pull. The way he says he shouldn’t but always does. The way he drags you back into his orbit every time, knowing you’ll stay.

“What do you want, Bucky?” you ask, keeping your voice steady. It’s a question you’ve asked a hundred times, and you already know the answer.

He exhales sharply, like he’s frustrated—at you, at himself, you’re not sure. “I don’t know.” Another pause. “You were right, okay? About everything. I just…” His voice trails off, and you can picture him sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s trying to find the words. “I hate this.”

“Hate what?” you snap, the simmering frustration bubbling to the surface. “Hate that you always come back? Or hate that you can’t figure out what the hell you want?”

He doesn’t answer. He never does when you call him out like this.

The silence makes your chest ache. You shake your head, even though he can’t see you. “You can’t keep doing this, Bucky. You can’t keep pulling me back just to push me away again. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” he whispers. And he sounds so broken, so genuine, that it cracks something inside you. It always does.

You take a shaky breath. “Then why do you do it?”

“I don’t know,” he says again. His voice is quieter now, softer, like he’s afraid of breaking you more than he already has. “Because you’re the only thing that feels real. And I don’t know how to hold onto it without screwing it up.”

Your throat tightens. You wish you didn’t understand. But you do. He’s always been good at giving you just enough to stay, but never enough to feel whole. “Its not enough Buck”

“I know,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “But it’s all I’ve got, you're all i truly have."

You sighed running your head through your hair “Do you wanna come over?”

“I’m already on my way”

You don't have to wait long. The sound of his motorcycle pulling up to your place makes your stomach do a little flip, even though you're still mad at him. You hear his heavy boots on the stairs, and then a soft knock at your door.

You take a deep breath before opening it. He's standing there, his hair tousled from the ride, his face tight and tired. He looks at you, and for a moment, it's like all the walls come down. He reaches out, cupping your face with his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice rough. "I'm so fucking sorry."

And just like that, you melt. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. His other hand comes up to wrap around your waist, pulling you close. He smells like leather and cigarettes and something uniquely him.

"I missed you," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. "I hate not seeing you."

"I hate it too," you whisper back. "But you can't keep doing this, Bucky. You can't keep hurting me."

He makes a soft, broken sound. "I know. I'm trying, okay? I'm really trying."

The door closes softly behind them, the click of the lock echoing in the charged silence. Bucky's hand is still cupping your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you breathe him in. He smells like leather and smoke, like home and danger all rolled into one.

You press yourself against him, feeling the hard planes of his body through his clothes. He's solid and warm and real, and it's been too long since you've felt him like this. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he claims your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You moan into it, your fingers tangling in his hair. He kisses like your fights- fierce and intense, like he's trying to claim every inch of you. You kiss back just as fiercely, your tongue sliding against his as you lose yourself in the feel of him.

He walks you backwards towards the bed, his hands roaming your body as he goes. He breaks the kiss only to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His mouth is back on yours before you can even blink, his hands cupping your breasts through your bra.

You arch into his touch, your nipples hardening under his palms. He groans low in his throat, his hips pressing forward to grind against yours. You can feel his hardness through his jeans, and it makes you ache with need.

He breaks the kiss again, trailing his lips down your neck as his hands work to unclasp your bra. It falls to the floor, joining the growing pile of clothes. He takes a moment to look at you, his eyes dark with desire as they rake over your naked breasts.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his hands cupping the soft mounds. You gasp as his thumbs brush over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

He leans down, taking one of the hardened peaks into his mouth. You cry out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he sucks and licks and nibbles. Your hips buck against his, seeking friction, and he groans around your nipple, the vibrations making you shiver.

He gives the other breast the same attention, lavishing it with kisses and bites until you're writhing beneath him. Only then does he move lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach as he kneels before you.

His hands hook in the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down along with your panties. You step out of them, kicking them aside as he looks up at you from his knees. The sight of him there, kneeling before you like you're a goddess to be worshipped, makes your knees weak.

"Bucky," you breathe, and it's half plea, half prayer.

He grins up at you, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Patience, baby. I'm going to take my time with you."

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue delving between your folds to taste you. You cry out, your head falling back as pleasure crashes over you. He licks and sucks and teases, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as he devours you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to you as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he pulls back, leaving you gasping and empty.

"Bucky, please," you whimper, and he chuckles darkly.

"Please what, baby? Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you pant, looking down at him with desperation in your eyes. "I want you inside me."

He stands up, pulling you flush against him as he captures your mouth in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it makes you even more aroused. His hands grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he grinds his hardness against your bare core.

"Bed," he growls against your lips, and you nod frantically, tugging him towards the mattress.

You tumble onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs and desire. He breaks the kiss to sit up, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. You take a moment to admire the hard planes of his chest, the scars that crisscross his skin like a roadmap of his past.

He crawls back over you, his hips settling between your thighs as he reaches for his belt. You watch, transfixed, as he unbuckles it and shoves his jeans and boxers down, freeing him.

He settles back over you, his head brushing against your entrance. You shudder at the contact, your hips lifting to try and draw him in.

"Tell me you want this," he whispers, his voice rough with need. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," you breathe, wrapping your legs around his waist. "I want all of you."

And with that, he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjust to the stretch.

He pauses for a moment, letting you get used to him. Then he starts to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in. You meet him thrust for thrust, your hips rising to take him deeper.

The bed creaks beneath you as he sets a relentless pace, driving into you again and again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, burying his face in your neck. "So perfect."

You clench around him in response, and he curses, his hips snapping forward harder.

"I'm gonna come," you gasp, your body tensing beneath him. "Bucky, I'm gonna-"

But he cuts off your words with a kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as you come undone beneath him. Your body spasms around him, milking him as he follows you over the edge with a hoarse shout of your name.

He collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for breath as the aftershocks of your orgasms roll through you. He presses soft kisses to your neck, your jawline, your lips as you bask in the afterglow.

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin, and you hope it's just not the sex talking.

Later that week, you’re sitting at a bar with Natasha. She watches you nurse your drink, her sharp green eyes narrowing as you tell her what happened.

“He called,” you say, staring down at the condensation on your glass. “And like an idiot, I picked up, and he came over, we had sex and he was gone in the morning”

Natasha doesn’t say anything at first. She just leans back, crossing her arms. “What do you want me to say?” she asks finally. “That he’s going to change? That this time will be different?”

You shake your head. “No. I just…” You trail off, struggling to put the feeling into words. “I just wish I didn’t miss him so much. I wish I could stop.”

She sighs, leaning forward. “Listen to me,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “He’s not going to fix this. You know that, right? He’s not going to wake up one day and suddenly figure out how to love you the way you deserve. That’s not who he is, you have to know that babe…"

“I know,” you whisper. But the ache in your chest doesn’t go away.

Natasha exhales deeply, tilting her head as if trying to decide whether to push further. Finally, she sets her drink down and leans across the table, her voice quieter but no less serious. “So, what’s the plan? You gonna keep answering when he calls? Keep letting him come over, screw you and your head, and leave like nothing happened?”

You don’t answer, just trace the edge of your glass with your finger. The truth is, you don’t have a plan. You’re not even sure you want one. “He said he loves me, he's never said that before”

Natasha leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studies you. Her sharp green eyes narrow slightly, but there’s no satisfaction in her expression. She doesn’t look impressed, doesn’t look relieved, like you’d hoped she might. Instead, her face softens, just slightly, in that way that means she’s about to say something you don’t want to hear.

“Okay,” she says slowly, her voice calm but pointed. “And what does that change?”

Her question hits like a bucket of cold water, and you blink at her, your fingers freezing mid-trace on the rim of your glass. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, so what?” Natasha continues, leaning forward now, her elbows on the table. “He said the words. Great. But what does that actually mean to you? Did it make you feel better? Did it fix anything?”

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. The truth sits heavy in your chest.

“It’s not enough just to say it,” Natasha presses, her tone still steady but with an edge of frustration. “Love isn’t just words. It’s showing up. It’s consistency. It’s choosing someone, not just when it’s convenient, but every single day. Did he do that? Or did he just say what you’ve been waiting to hear and then disappear again?”

The ache in your chest tightens, and you look down, your fingers clutching the glass like it might hold the answers you’re searching for. “He—he’s trying,” you say weakly, but even you don’t sound convinced.

Natasha lets out a breath, her voice softening again. “Babe… I know you want to believe him. I know you love him. But this?” She gestures vaguely, as if to encompass all of it—your tears, the late-night calls, the endless cycle. “This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like. Love doesn’t leave you questioning your worth every time the sun comes up.”

The words settle over you like a weight, and you swallow hard, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill. You don’t want her to see you cry. Not here. Not like this.

“Nat…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. But she shakes her head, her expression soft but unyielding.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” she says gently. “I just… I want you to be happy. And you’re not happy right now. You haven’t been for a long time.”

Before you can respond, the stool next to her screeches, and Sam slides into it, his energy a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere between you and Nat. He plunks his beer on the table and gives you a once-over.

“Well, you look like someone stole your puppy,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

Natasha shoots him a look. “Not the time, Sam.”

“I’m just saying,” he replies, leaning back and gesturing to you. “She’s been sitting here all night, looking like a sad indie song, and you’re just gonna let her wallow?”

You glare at him, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “Do you have something to say, or are you just here to make jokes?”

“Both,” Sam says, taking a sip of his beer before setting it down. “Look, I love you, but this thing with Bucky? It’s killing you, and everyone can see it. Hell, you can see it, but you’re still pretending like it’s gonna work itself out.”

“Sam,” Natasha warns, but he holds up a hand.

“No, let me finish,” he says, his voice more serious now. “I’ve been where you are, okay? Hanging onto something that’s breaking you because you’re scared to let it go. But you know what happens if you keep holding on?” He pauses, meeting your eyes. “You lose yourself. And I don’t want that for you.”

His words hit harder than you expect, and for a moment, all you can do is sit there, blinking back the tears threatening to spill.

“I don’t know how to let him go,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know who I am without him.”

Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Then it’s time to figure that out. Because you deserve better than waiting around for someone who doesn’t see how amazing you are—not someone who only comes around when it’s convenient for him.”

After Sam and Natasha head home, you find yourself walking through the quiet streets, your hands shoved into your coat pockets. The city hums around you, but you feel untethered, like you’re floating between who you are and who you want to be.

Before you realize it, your feet take you to Bucky’s building. You stop at the corner, staring up at the windows. The lights in his apartment are off, but you know he’s there. He’s always there.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out, your heart sinking when you see his name.

Bucky: You up?

The message is simple, familiar, and infuriatingly tempting. Your thumb hovers over the screen.

You: Yes, just leaving the bar.

Bucky: Ill see you in 20.

You see his light flick on.

You: Okay.

You’re sitting in your apartment with Steve. He’d shown up unexpectedly, a bag of bagels in one hand and a concerned look on his face. Now, he’s watching you carefully as you pick at your food, the silence between you growing heavier by the minute.

“I heard about last night,” he says eventually, breaking the stillness.

You glance up, narrowing your eyes. “Natasha?”

“Sam,” he admits with a small smile, but his expression stays serious. “He’s worried about you. We all are.”

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. “I’m fine, Steve.”

“You’re not fine,” he says gently, setting his coffee down on the table. “And it’s okay to not be fine. But you need to stop punishing yourself for wanting more than what Bucky can give you.”

Your chest tightens, and you look away, your voice barely audible. “He’s not a bad person, Steve. He’s just… broken.”

“I know he is,” Steve says softly, his tone patient but firm. “And I know he cares about you, even if he’s too scared to show it. But that doesn’t mean you have to keep hurting yourself to save him.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you ask the question that’s been clawing at you for days. “Is he seeing anyone else?”

Steve freezes mid-bite, his jaw tightening. “Yes.”

You nod slowly, your hands trembling as you set your plate down on the coffee table. “Are they… are they having sex?”

Steve’s shoulders sag slightly, and he shakes his head. “No.”

The relief you feel is fleeting, quickly replaced by another ache—something deeper, sharper. “He told me he loves me, y’know,” you whisper, your voice cracking.

That makes Steve freeze completely. He sets his bagel down, staring at you with wide, startled eyes. “He said that?”

You nod, the words pouring out of you now, unfiltered and raw. “He’s never said it before. And I didn’t know what to do. Because it felt… real. For a second, it felt like maybe this time was different. But then he was gone the next morning, like always.”

Steve leans back in his chair, his brow furrowed, like he’s trying to process what you’ve just said. “Did he mean it?” he asks finally, his voice cautious.

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes. “I don’t know, Steve. Does it matter? He says one thing, but everything else he does just…” You trail off, shaking your head.

“It matters,” Steve says firmly, leaning forward. “If he loves you, that’s something. But love isn’t enough if he can’t show it, if he can’t make you feel it.” Steve is quiet for a long moment, his expression pained. “You deserve more than that,” he says finally. “You deserve someone who’s not afraid to fight for you. Someone who doesn’t make you feel like you’re asking for too much just by being yourself.”

-----------

The music is loud, pulsing through the crowded bar in a steady rhythm that matches the pounding in your chest. You're friends are off dancing their cares away, while you sit at a small table near the corner, nursing your drink, half-hidden in the dim lighting. The condensation from the glass drips onto your hand, but you barely notice.

Your eyes keep drifting to him.

Bucky is across the room, his arm slung casually around another woman’s shoulders. She’s laughing, tilting her head toward him like he’s just told her the funniest joke in the world. He looks… relaxed. At ease in a way you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s like someone’s taken a knife to your chest, twisting it deeper with every passing second.

You force yourself to look away, staring into the amber liquid in your glass like it holds answers to questions you’re too scared to ask. But it doesn’t work. Your gaze flickers back to him, almost involuntarily.

They’re dancing now, swaying to a song you don’t recognize. His hand rests lightly on her hip, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress in a way that feels too intimate, too familiar.

And then he kisses her.

Not on the lips, but on her head, his lips lingering against her hair as she leans into him. It’s tender, effortless, the kind of gesture that feels natural, like it belongs to someone who knows how to love without hesitation.

Your chest tightens, and you swallow the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to take another sip of your drink. The bitterness burns your tongue, but it’s nothing compared to the ache spreading through you.

You tell yourself you don’t care. That this doesn’t matter. That he’s made his choice, and it isn’t you.

But the truth is, it matters too much.

You drain the rest of your drink, the cold liquid going down in one sharp swallow. You set the glass down harder than you mean to, the dull thud lost in the noise of the bar.

You glance over at him one last time, just to confirm what you already know. He’s still there, his attention focused on her.

But then his eyes shift.

He sees you.

For a split second, your gazes lock across the room, and the weight of his stare pins you in place. His hand pauses on her back, and something flickers in his expression—guilt, maybe, or regret.

You can’t tell, and you’re not sure you want to.

The heat of his gaze follows you as you stand, slipping your bag over your shoulder and making your way toward the door. The noise of the bar fades into the background as you weave through the crowd, your footsteps quick and purposeful.

You don’t look back, but you can feel him watching you, his eyes lingering like a phantom touch that burns even after you’re gone.

The cold night air hits your face as you step outside, and you inhale deeply, trying to push the ache in your chest away.

But it stays. It always stays.

That night, you’re curled up on your couch, a blanket wrapped around you as the city lights flicker through the window. Your phone sits on the coffee table, dark and silent.

Until it’s not.

The screen lights up, and Bucky’s name appears. The voicemail notification lingers like a ghost, and your hand trembles as you reach for it.

You press play, his voice cracking through the silence.

“I know I’ve screwed this up. I know I don’t deserve another chance. But I miss you, and I don’t know how to do this without you. Please… just call me, I’m sorry”

-------

You find him outside on the balcony, leaning heavily against the railing, his shoulders hunched like the weight of the world is pressing down on him. The cold night air bites at your skin, and the faint glow of the streetlights below casts shadows that dance across his face. He doesn’t turn when you step out. He never does. That’s the thing about Bucky—he always knows you’re there, but he’s mastered the art of pretending not to.

The sound of the sliding door closing behind you feels final, like you’ve just stepped into a space you won’t come back from. Your arms wrap around yourself, a weak defense against the cold—or maybe against him—and you take a hesitant step forward.

“I thought you left,” you say, breaking the fragile quiet. Your voice wavers, as unsure as the ground you’re standing on.

He finally looks over his shoulder, his eyes heavy and rimmed with shadows. He looks wrecked. Tired in a way that no amount of sleep could fix. “Almost did,” he says softly, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city.

You step closer, your chest tightening at his words, at the way he doesn’t move, doesn’t shift to let you in. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugs, turning back to the skyline, his fingers gripping the railing. “I haven’t heard from you all week.”

The ache in your chest sharpens at his tone, a flicker of hope you hate sneaking in despite yourself. It’s always like this: just enough vulnerability to keep you tethered. You stop a few feet away, the space between you feeling like a canyon, impossible to bridge.

“This isn’t working,” you say, finally voicing the thought that’s been clawing at you for weeks. “Whatever this is. It’s not working, Bucky.”

He doesn’t react at first, just keeps staring out at the city, like it holds an answer he’s too afraid to look for. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and rough. “I know.”

The simplicity of his admission steals your breath. It’s not that you didn’t expect it. You did. You’ve been here before, standing on the edge of this same cliff, waiting for the inevitable fall.

“So why are we still here?” you ask, your voice trembling, tinged with a desperation you wish you could hide.

He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. The motion is frustrated, exhausted, like he’s tired of his own indecision. “Because I don’t know how to stop,” he admits, his words cutting through the night air with brutal honesty.

You take another step closer, close enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the railing. “Bucky,” you say, your voice soft but breaking. “I need more than this. I need to know if you’re ever going to stop running every time things get hard. Because I can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out.”

He turns to face you then, his blue eyes locking onto yours. There’s something in them—something raw and fragile and so heartbreakingly familiar. For a fleeting second, you think this is it. The moment he’ll finally tell you what you’ve been waiting to hear.

But then he looks away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know if I can.”

The nausea hits you like a punch, twisting your stomach into knots. You take a shaky step back, wrapping your arms around yourself like it might keep you from falling apart. “Do you even want to try?”

His silence is deafening, an answer in itself.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and sharp. “You’re unbelievable,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “I’m standing here, practically begging you to tell me you care, and you can’t even do that.”

“I care,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I care.”

“Do I?” Your voice rises, anger bubbling to the surface, breaking through the pain. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. You say you care, but you act like I’m something you can pick up and put down whenever it’s convenient for you.”

“Stop,” he says, his voice suddenly firm, his eyes snapping back to yours. There’s something desperate in his tone, something pleading that makes your breath hitch. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do this.”

“No, Bucky.” You shake your head, your voice trembling with fury and heartbreak. “You just don’t want to. And there’s a difference.”

The words hang between you, heavy and suffocating. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, but then he stops. His eyes dart back to the city skyline, and you see it—the war he’s waging with himself, the battle between what he wants and what he’s too scared to reach for.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of the moment. “Say anything.”

“I’m seeing someone,” he says suddenly, his hands gripping the railing so tightly you half expect it to snap. The words hit like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs.

The world around you tilts. Your hands tremble as you take a step back. “Of course you are,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. The bitter laugh that follows feels like it belongs to someone else. “I’m done.”

You turn toward the sliding door, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might shatter. Your hand trembles as you reach for the handle, pausing for just a second, hoping—praying—he’ll stop you. That he’ll fight.

But the silence stretches on, heavier and colder than the night air.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s still standing there, staring down at the city like he’s already let you go.

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to slide the door open and step back inside. The warmth of the apartment hits you like a slap, but it does nothing to ease the chill in your chest.

The door slides shut with a quiet thud.

And Bucky doesn’t follow.

You’d just moved into a new apartment, one that wasn't tainted with all the places he'd touched, places he'd been. It made things easier it wasn't the reason for your move but it helped. Natasha had decided you were both done unpacking for the night so naturally she had dragged you to a party. Steve’s place, of course. The apartment was alive with the energy of too many people crammed into too little space. Natasha had disappeared into a circle of friends near the kitchen, leaving you to nurse your drink in a corner. That’s when you noticed him.

Bucky.

He was leaning against the wall, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Dark hair falling into his eyes, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder despite the heat of the crowded room. He didn’t see you at first, but when he did, his gaze lingered just long enough to make your pulse race.

You told yourself you wouldn’t approach him, but an hour later, you were pressed against the wall in Steve’s hallway, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your hips like he couldn’t get close enough. It was messy, impulsive, and thrilling.

“We probably shouldn’t,” you’d whispered, your breath catching as his mouth moved against your collarbone.

He’d laughed softly, his voice low and rough. “Yeah. Probably not.”

Neither of you stopped.

There were moments after that—moments that felt like everything you’d ever wanted. Late nights in his apartment, the room dimly lit by the glow of the city outside. He’d lie next to you, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm as you talked about everything and nothing.

He’d tell you about his childhood, the things he rarely told anyone. The weight of his past. And you’d listen, feeling like you were peeling back layers of him that no one else had ever seen.

“You don’t have to fix me,” he’d murmured once, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I like being around you.”

You’d smiled, brushing his hair back from his face. “I’m not trying to fix you, Bucky.”

And in those moments, you weren’t lying.

But then there were the other moments. The ones where he pulled away so fast it left you reeling.

You remember the first time he didn’t text you back. It wasn’t just hours—it was days. Days of overanalyzing every word you’d said to him the last time you saw him. Days of your stomach twisting every time your phone buzzed, only for it to not be him.

When he finally did text, it was so casual it made you want to scream.

“Hey. You good?”

No apology. No explanation. Just like that, he was back. And you let him back in because you didn’t know how not to.

And then there was the jealousy. The way you’d catch him talking to someone else at a party, his body language so open and inviting in a way it rarely was with you. You hated how it made you feel, the bitterness that bubbled up, the way you wanted to pull him aside and demand to know if he cared about you at all.

But you didn’t. You never did.

“Do you even want to move on?” Wanda asks, her tone soft but pointed. “Or is this just who you are now?”

You blink at her, her words cutting through the haze of your thoughts. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

She sighs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “You deserve better, you know that, right?”

The door swings open, and Natasha walks in, dropping her bag on the counter. She gives you a look, one that’s equal parts sympathetic and exasperated.

“Let me guess,” she says, crossing her arms. “You’re thinking about him again.”

You don’t answer, but the way your jaw tightens is enough for her to roll her eyes. “You know he’s not good for you. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

“I don’t know,” you snap, harsher than you mean to. “Maybe because it’s not that simple.”

“Actually, it is,” Natasha retorts, her voice sharp. “You stop calling him. You stop answering when he calls. You stop letting him treat you like an afterthought.”

“Nat—” Wanda starts, her tone soothing, but Natasha holds up a hand.

“No, she needs to hear this.” She looks at you again, her expression softening just slightly. “I know you care about him. But caring about him isn’t enough if he doesn’t care about you the same way. At some point, you have to start putting yourself first.”

You glance away, her words hitting too close to home.

“I don’t get you,” you’d once said your voice trembling with frustration. “One minute you’re here, and it feels like—like maybe this could be something. And the next, you’re gone.”

He’d run a hand through his hair, pacing the room. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is, Bucky,” you’d said, your voice rising. “You either want me, or you don’t. So which is it?”

He’d stopped then, turning to look at you. And the look on his face—it wasn’t anger or indifference. It was fear.

“I don’t know,” he’d said finally, his voice breaking.

And that was the worst part.

“You’re spiraling,” Sam said. He wasn’t harsh about it, but he didn’t sugarcoat it either. “This isn’t love. It’s self-destruction.”

Even as you think it, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. The sound feels too loud in the quiet room, pulling everyone’s attention. You glance at the screen, and your heart skips when you see his name. Just his name—no message preview, no context, just him.

Wanda notices, her brow furrowing as she leans forward. “Don’t,” she says softly, but there’s a weight behind the word, a plea. “You’ll just end up back where you started.”

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the notification. The silence in the room grows heavier, charged with unspoken tension. Your chest tightens as your mind races. It would be so easy. Just one tap, and he’d be there again. One tap, and you’d hear his voice, feel the pull that always brings you back.

“I just…” Your voice falters, your eyes flickering to Wanda and then to Sam, who watches you with a mix of concern and frustration. “What if this time it’s different?”

Sam lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand over his face. “You think this time is different? Come on. What’s he going to say that he hasn’t already said a hundred times before?”

“It’s not about what he says,” Wanda interjects, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s about what he does. And what has he done, really, except hurt you?”

You look back at the screen. The notification is still there, a glaring reminder of the mess you can’t seem to escape. Your thumb presses down slightly, not enough to open it but enough to feel the weight of the choice.

“But I love him,” you whisper. The words tumble out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered.

Sam exhales sharply, standing up from the chair and pacing across the room. “Yeah, we know. Everyone knows. But does he love you? Because if he does, he’s got a real shitty way of showing it.”

You flinch at his tone, the harshness cutting through your defenses. “He does love me,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him.

“Then where is he?” Sam snaps, turning to face you. “Why isn’t he here, fighting for you instead of blowing up your phone every time he feels lonely? Why is it always you doing the heavy lifting?”

Wanda places a hand on Sam’s arm, pulling him back gently. “Sam…”

“No, I need to say it,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm. “Love isn’t supposed to feel like this. It’s not supposed to feel like you’re drowning every damn day just to keep him afloat.”

The bar is too loud, too crowded, and too filled with memories of Bucky for you to feel at ease. But you’re here because it’s Steve’s birthday, and Natasha had insisted. And of course you came it was Steve.

You’re leaning against the bar, talking to a man you barely know. His smile is easy, his laugh smooth, and even though you’re trying to focus on him, you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. From across the room, his gaze burns into your back, searing through your dress like a brand.

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes for a split second. The tension in his jaw, the way his drink sits untouched in his hand—it’s the most emotion he’s shown all night. But it’s not enough to stop you.

If he wants to act like he doesn’t care, you’ll give him something to not care about.

The man beside you leans in, his hand brushing against your arm as he says something you don’t quite catch over the noise. You laugh, even though you barely hear the joke. You laugh because you know Bucky is watching.

It doesn’t take long for him to snap.

Before you realize what’s happening, his hand is on your wrist. Firm but not rough, his grip sends a jolt through you. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice low and clipped.

“Excuse me?” You pull back, glaring at him, but his grip doesn’t loosen.

“We’re leaving,” he says, not looking at you, not giving the man beside you so much as a glance.

“Bucky—” you start, but he’s already pulling you through the crowd, weaving between bodies with single-minded determination.

By the time you reach his apartment, you’re seething. He slams the door shut behind you, the sound echoing through the dimly lit space.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snap, crossing your arms.

“My problem?” he fires back, pacing across the room like a caged animal. “My problem is you acting like that guy meant anything to you!”

“Oh, and you would know what means something to me, right?” You take a step closer, your voice rising. “Because you’re so good at showing me how much I mean to you.”

He stops, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t turn this on me.”

“Why not? It’s always about you, isn’t it, Bucky? What you want, what you feel. You drag me into your mess every time, and I let you, because I—”

You stop yourself, your breath catching.

“Because you what?” he demands, his voice sharp.

“Because I care about you!” you yell, your chest heaving. “And all you ever do is hurt me for it.”

His face twists, like your words hit him somewhere deep. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something, that he’s going to explain or apologize or do something, but instead, he grabs a plate from the counter and hurls it against the wall. The sharp crash reverberates through the room, the pieces scattering across the floor like jagged confessions neither of you are ready to face.

You flinch at the sound, but the fire in your chest burns brighter, fueled by the chaos. “Oh, real mature, Bucky. Breaking dishes? That’s your solution? Just break things until you don’t have to feel anything anymore?”

He grabs another plate, his hand trembling as he grips it, his knuckles white. His voice breaks as he yells, “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t know I’m screwing this up? That I don’t hate myself for it?”

“Then stop!” you shout back, your voice raw and cracking under the weight of it all. “Stop hurting me, stop dragging me back, stop—just stop!”

The plate shakes in his hand, and for a second, you think he’s going to throw it again. Instead, he slams it down on the counter with a hollow thud. His shoulders slump as he leans over it, his head bowed like he’s trying to hold himself together. His breathing is ragged, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly you think it might break under the strain.

“I don’t know how,” he whispers finally, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”

The vulnerability in his voice slices through you, but it’s not enough. Not this time. The ache in your chest is unbearable, your heart breaking as you look at the man you love and realize he’ll never love you the way you need him to.

“Then let me go, Bucky,” you say, your voice trembling but resolute. “If you can’t give me what I need, let me go.”

He finally turns to face you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I can’t,” he says, his voice breaking like the plates he just shattered. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Your chest tightens, the pain twisting deeper with every word. “Aren’t you seeing someone?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “She’s not you,” he says, his voice trembling. “They’re never you.”

The admission stuns you into silence for a moment. The tears you’ve been holding back spill over, hot and heavy. “Then why can’t you give me that, Bucky?” you whisper, your voice shaking with anger and grief. “Why can you give it to them but not to me? Why is it always me who’s left bleeding for you? It’s not fair—I give you everything! And you just take, take, take! What’s left of me after this?”

Your words hang between you, raw and unfiltered, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t try to defend himself, doesn’t even try to apologize. He just stares at you, his eyes wide and desperate, like he’s drowning in the mess he’s made.

Then, without warning, he steps forward, grabbing your face in his hands. His touch is rough, almost frantic, his fingers trembling against your skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

And before you can say anything, before you can even catch your breath, his lips crash into yours.

The kiss is desperate and messy, his tears mixing with yours as he pulls you closer like he’s afraid to let go. His hands shake as they cup your face, his lips pressing against yours with a fierceness that makes your knees weak.

You hate how easily you give in, how quickly your hands find their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. The anger and pain and longing all bleed together in that kiss, every unspoken word, every broken promise, every piece of you he’s taken without giving anything back.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. “But I can’t lose you. Please… don’t leave me.” He whispers his voice trembling

Your heart shatters all over again. “Okay”

Bucky’s hands tighten on your arms, his breath warm and uneven against your face. His lips hover just above yours, his eyes searching yours for something—permission, maybe, or forgiveness he doesn’t deserve. You don’t give it to him, but you don’t pull away either.

Instead, your hands move on their own, sliding up his chest and curling into the fabric of his shirt. The tension between you snaps like a live wire as he closes the distance again, his mouth crashing against yours with a desperation that leaves no room for hesitation.

The kiss deepens, his lips parting yours, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His hands roam down your sides, fingers gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. You press closer, your body molding to his as the frustration and anger between you melt into something darker, hotter, and infinitely more consuming.

Bucky backs you up until your hips hit the edge of the counter, the cool surface biting into your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. His hands slide up your thighs, his touch firm and deliberate as he lifts you onto the counter. You gasp against his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours in all the right ways.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. “If this isn’t what you want, tell me now.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your chest heaving as you meet his gaze. His blue eyes are dark, filled with a mix of longing and uncertainty that tugs at something deep inside you. “Don’t stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

That’s all it takes. He grips the hem of your dress and pulls it up, his hands sliding over your thighs, rough and calloused against your skin. His lips trail down your neck, his stubble scraping lightly against you as he kisses the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your head tilts back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands and mouth make you forget every argument, every broken moment that led you here.

His fingers find the edge of your underwear, his touch teasing as he looks up at you, waiting. You nod, your breath hitching as he slides them aside, his fingers exploring with a skill that leaves you trembling. He watches you intently, his gaze locked on your face as he learns every reaction, every sound you make.

When his name slips from your lips, low and needy, it’s like something inside him snaps. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the couch with a strength that leaves you dizzy. The world blurs around you, your focus narrowing to the feel of his body against yours, the weight of his hands, the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re all I think about,” he says, his voice raw as he settles over you. “Every damn day.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The only response you can give is the way you arch into him, the way you pull him closer, needing him as much as he needs you. And when he finally joins you, it’s slow and deliberate, every movement designed to pull you deeper into the storm of him.

The morning light seeps through the curtains as you stand by his window, fully dressed, the quiet hum of the city below serving as your only company. Bucky is still asleep in the bed, his arm draped across the pillow where you had been just hours ago. You glance at him one last time, your heart clenching in your chest. For a fleeting moment, you consider crawling back into bed, letting yourself believe in the softness of this moment.

But you can’t.

You quietly grab your things and slip out the door, the sound of it clicking shut behind you feeling heavier than it should.

By mid-morning, you’ve buried yourself in mundane errands—anything to keep your mind from circling back to him. You’re at the farmer’s market now, weaving through the stalls of fresh produce and flowers, the air filled with the faint scent of lavender and bread. You clutch a tote bag tightly in your hand, trying to focus on the vibrant colors of the fruit in front of you.

You pick up an apple, turning it over in your hand absently. It’s almost enough to distract you from the ache still lodged in your chest. Almost.

Until you see him.

You freeze, the apple slipping from your grasp and thudding softly onto the wooden table in front of you. Your breath catches, and the world seems to narrow until it’s just him, standing only a few stalls away.

His dark hair catches the sunlight, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed, like the night before never ended. His eyes are locked on yours, wide and filled with a mix of emotions you can’t quite place—shock, guilt, something softer that makes your chest tighten painfully.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, suspended in time. Everyone else around you fades into nothing, their chatter and laughter muffled like the background of a dream.

But then your gaze shifts.

To her.

The woman standing beside him.

Her hand is clasped firmly in his, their fingers intertwined in a way that feels too familiar, too intimate. She’s beautiful, her expression warm and open as she looks up at him, clearly unaware of the storm brewing between his gaze and yours.

Your stomach twists violently, and the apple you’d forgotten about rolls off the edge of the table and hits the ground.

Bucky’s face changes when he sees you notice her, his eyes softening with guilt, his mouth parting as if he wants to say something, anything. But he doesn’t.

He just stands there, holding her hand, while your chest caves in.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you force yourself to look away, your vision blurring with unshed tears. You clutch your tote bag tighter and turn, walking away without another word.

You barely make it out of the market before the tears spill over. You wipe them away furiously, your hands trembling as you duck into a side street, out of view from the crowds.

The weight of his gaze lingers on your back, like a hand reaching out but never quite touching you. You can feel him watching you, but you don’t dare turn around. You can’t.

You stop for a moment, your chest heaving as you lean against the wall of a brick building. The morning sun feels too bright, the world too loud despite the hollow silence pounding in your ears.

He didn’t follow.

You told yourself you didn’t want him to, but the ache in your chest says otherwise.

When you glance back toward the market, just for a second, you see him standing at the edge of the stalls, his hand no longer in hers, his face etched with something that looks like regret.

But he doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

With a deep breath, you wipe your face one last time, adjust the strap of your tote bag, and walk away. The weight in your chest feels unbearable, but your feet keep moving anyway.

The apartment is quiet that night, the silence pressing down on you as you sit by the window, staring out at the city lights. You tell yourself you’re not waiting for him, but your phone sits beside you on the windowsill, the screen dark but heavy with possibilities.

It’s almost midnight when the buzz breaks the silence. You glance at the screen, your heart stopping when you see his name.

The message is simple. “Please, can we talk? I miss you…I’m sorry”

[jayswifeshh]

all talk | p.js

there has always been a simmering tension between you and jay ever since you joined their friend group, hidden beneath playful banter and teasing remarks. but things changed when what started as a carefree night out with your seven friends quickly spiraled into something far more unexpected. between the music, the drinks, and the charged glances, the playful teasing shifts into something much more intense.

《 park¡jongseong x female¡reader

《 content - smut, a little fluff, teasing, protected sex, praise kink, drunk sex, jealously, oral, self-pleasure(jay), the reader isn't submissive and she's low-key a freak. probably missed a lot but it's my first time guys i'm so sorry!

if you're into a quick smut story this probably isn't for you. got carried away and it ended up being way longer than expected (i just like to yap a lot sry again babes)

《 wc - 9k

heesung and jake play a big role in this lol. jungwon's mentioned too just at the very end.

___________________________________________

you and jay… that was always a topic of confusion—for others, and sometimes even for yourselves.

this entire, incredibly eventful chapter of your life began when you met enhypen during one of your calvin klein photoshoots. it was a collaboration you hadn’t expected, and yet everything about it felt oddly seamless.

from the moment you met the group of boys, it felt as though you’d known them forever. they were warm, funny, and easy to talk to—qualities that made them stand out, especially since most of your friendships had been with girls.

what really caught you off guard was how quickly you became a part of their circle. suddenly, you were being invited to hangouts every other week when your schedules allowed, and you didn’t mind one bit.

all seven of them welcomed you with open arms, making you feel at ease in a way that was new and unexpected. it was strange to think about because kindness should be the standard, but your past experiences with men had left you guarded. this shift in dynamic, though refreshing, often felt too good to be true.

your relationship with each one of them was unique in its own way, but you seemed to connect best with one in particular— park jongseong.

your bond with jay was unlike anything you shared with the rest. from your very first exchange, there was an easy flirtation between the two of you that only grew stronger over time. the others teased you both relentlessly, saying how perfect you were for each other and insisting you should stop pretending and just make it official.

you and jay, however, would always dismiss their comments, laughing it off and insisting that you were just joking around. of course, the others never believed you, carrying on with their relentless teasing.

still, it never fazed you or jay. maybe it was because, deep down, the idea didn’t seem all that bad? you never stopped to analyze it, though. the truth was, you never had a “what are we?” conversation, and you weren’t exactly in a rush to have one either. you weren’t actively looking for love, and having a flirtatious dynamic with a man sculpted like a greek god certainly added some much-needed excitement to your life. who could complain? it was just innocent fun—you never crossed any boundaries or did anything beyond playful banter.

little did you know, though, that someday words would turn into actions.

the night everything changed began with a casual invitation. the guys were in new york city for a concert and decided to go clubbing in their free time. they wanted you to join.

the place they chose was nothing short of extravagant—a blend of a nightclub and bar, with a formal dress code and an exclusive guest list. it was an entirely new experience, especially since most of your outings with them were more casual: dinners, movie nights, or just hanging out at someone’s place.

the chance to dress up, drink, and let loose was too tempting to pass up. without a second thought, you said yes, not knowing that this night would mark a turning point in your relationship with jay.

after stepping into the upscale club, the eight of you naturally dispersed. some rushed off to the bar, others disappeared into the pulsing crowd, lost in the music and lights. a few mingled effortlessly with strangers, their laughter blending into the vibrant hum of the room.

you stayed back with jay, jake, and heesung, settling into a plush, semi-private corner on an l-shaped couch. the spot felt perfect—close enough to feel the energy of the club but far enough to offer a sense of privacy. from where you sat, you could watch the sea of bodies moving under the strobe lights, yet here, the music was muffled just enough to allow for easy conversation.

a sleek glass table in front of you was already cluttered with expensive liquor bottles, mixers, and half-finished drinks. you sat in the middle, jay on your left, so close that his knee brushed yours every time he adjusted his position. heesung occupied the far side, and jake sprawled casually on your right, his arm draped over the backrest.

the conversation was lively, flowing effortlessly from deep, reflective topics to ridiculous, out-of-pocket jokes that had all of you clutching your sides with laughter. the alcohol helped, loosening your words and deepening your bond as time slipped away.

it didn’t take long for you to feel the telltale signs of drunkenness. your cheeks felt warm, the edges of the room seemed softer, and your words occasionally slurred together. the guys weren’t far behind, their flushed faces and increasingly playful banter a clear indication of how much they’d had to drink.

but through the haze, you couldn’t help but notice jay. he’d always been charming and tactile, but tonight, something about him felt different—intensely focused. every so often, his hand would graze your bare leg, the touch fleeting but electric. occasionally, he’d reach out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering near your cheek in a way that made your breath hitch.

and then there were his hands—always finding ways to touch yours. jay had a habit of playing with your fingers, something you’d grown used to, but tonight, it felt more deliberate. his thumb traced slow, lazy circles on your skin, his touch so gentle it sent shivers up your spine.

his gaze, though, was what undid you. whenever his dark eyes locked with yours, it felt like the rest of the world faded away. there was an intensity to the way he looked at you tonight, as if he was trying to tell you something without saying a word. it made your heart race in a way you couldn’t quite control, and the alcohol only amplified your awareness of him.

jake and heesung weren’t blind to what was happening. every time jay’s hand lingered a little too long or his gaze softened when he looked at you, the two of them would exchange amused glances. jake smirked openly, while heesung occasionally raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching as if he was holding back laughter.

you noticed their silent teasing, of course, but jay seemed entirely unfazed. his focus stayed on you, as if the rest of the room didn’t exist.

as much as you tried to brush it off, blaming your racing thoughts on the alcohol, you couldn’t ignore the effect he was having on you. jay looked absolutely stunning tonight. his dark hair framed his face perfectly, soft strands falling effortlessly across his forehead. his black sweater clung to him just right, dipping low enough to reveal the sharp lines of his collarbones, while his tailored dress pants fit him like a dream. every detail about him seemed designed to make you lose your composure.

the night continued like this, the four of you huddled together while the others flitted in and out. occasionally, one of the members would stop by to join in on the conversation, only to dash off when a song they couldn’t resist came on. the corner you’d claimed felt like its own little world, insulated from the chaos of the club.

at one point, jay excused himself to the bathroom. you watched him go, your gaze lingering longer than you intended. the absence of his presence was immediate, like a sudden chill. the warmth of his touch, the weight of his attention, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you—it all left you reeling.

jake chuckled beside you, breaking your train of thought. “you good?” he teased, raising his glass in a toast. heesung just smirked knowingly, leaning back into the couch. to which you nonchalantly stated you're okay.

you shook your head, brushing off the slight unease from jay leaving. you leaned back into the cushions, letting the warm buzz of alcohol dull your thoughts. it wasn’t a big deal, you told yourself—he probably just needed a moment. the energy of the club, the thrum of the music, and the laughter from jake and heesung were enough to distract you. for now, the thought of jay and his lingering touches faded into the background.

but as the conversation flowed, jake leaned closer, his smirk catching your attention. “so,” he began, dragging the word out in a way that immediately put you on edge, “you know jay likes you, right?”

heesung, lounging comfortably, nodded with a sly grin. “oh, for sure. it’s not even subtle at this point. the guy can’t keep his hands off you.”

you froze for a second before letting out a laugh, shaking your head as you waved them off. “oh, come on. jay’s always like that—he’s just naturally touchy. it’s not out of the ordinary.”

jake raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “sure, but he doesn’t act like that with anyone else. have you seen him with us? the guy barely even gives us a pat on the back, let alone all the…” he mimicked brushing imaginary hair behind his ear, earning a snicker from heesung.

“exactly,” heesung added, crossing his arms. “jay’s different with you. it’s written all over his face. you’re the only one he looks at like that.”

rolling your eyes, you chuckled, trying to ignore the way their words made your heart skip. “you’re both drunk. he's flirty all the time—it’s just jay being jay.” you shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “he probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.”

the two exchanged another look, one of those silent conversations that only close friends could have. “okay,” jake said, dragging the word out again as if to humor you. “whatever you say.”

heesung smirked, leaning back into the couch. “denial is a river in egypt,” he muttered, earning a laugh from jake.

“and you two are delusional,” you shot back playfully, though the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed your confidence. you quickly changed the topic, refusing to let their words linger, but deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if they might be right.

heesung, however, wasn’t done. he leaned in dramatically, his voice lowering as if he was revealing some deep, dark secret. “you know, i don’t know why you’re pretending to be all innocent here.” he shot you a mischievous grin. “you’re just as flirty as jay—if not worse.”

before you could protest, he straightened up, then leaned forward again, dramatically acting out what he claimed was your behavior. “oh my god, jay,” he said in a mocking voice, fluttering his eyelashes. “you look so good tonight. i can’t stop looking at you.” he threw in a hair flip for good measure, causing you to laugh despite him making fun of you.

you gaped at him. “i do not do that!”

he grinned wider, clearly enjoying the playful torment. “sure you don’t,” he teased, pretending to sip from an invisible drink. “and then you throw in some accidental touches here and there, just like jay. like this” he reached over and lightly brushed your arm, his touch exaggerated and playful.

“stop!” you laughed, swatting his hand away. “you’re ridiculous, heesung!”

jake chuckled beside you, clearly enjoying the teasing. “you can’t deny it. you’re just as bad, if not more obvious, than jay.”

you crossed your arms and tried to hold your ground, but the heat in your face betrayed you. “whatever, you two are crazy.” you leaned back, trying to mask your flustered state, but deep down, a part of you knew they were right.

silence filled the air when you thought...wait... let’s make this fun. you leaned in closer, deciding it was your turn to stir things up.

“so, who’s the better flirt?” you asked, your voice dripping with playful confidence as you shot them a daring smirk.

heesung didn’t miss a beat. “you, obviously,” he replied with a matching grin, his quick answer making you sit a little taller.

you were about to feign modesty when jake jumped in, completely unfiltered. “oh, that’s not even a debate. you’re smooth, like dangerously smooth. it’s effortless—sensual, even. jay, though? he looks like a mix of a horny teenager and some creepy old dude who’s trying way too hard.”

you couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped, your stomach aching as heesung nodded in agreement, both boys delighting in tearing down jay’s flirting game.

“so, you’d fall for it?” you pressed, leaning into the teasing, letting your voice drop just enough to make them squirm.

their reaction was immediate—eyes wide, sharing a glance, before jake cleared his throat awkwardly. “i mean… yeah. probably any guy would… shit even girls,” he admitted, his voice quieter now.

you turned to heesung, raising an eyebrow as if to ask, well? he scratched the back of his neck, looking at everything but you. “yeah, same,” he mumbled. then, with a nervous chuckle, he added, “but don’t let jay hear that. he’d kill us, and honestly? i’d rather not go out like that.”

you giggled at their flustered answers, but you weren’t done just yet. a wicked thought crossed your mind. you leaned back against the couch, sighing dramatically, letting your body arch slightly, chest subtly pushing forward.

oh, so now they go quiet, huh? you thought to yourself, biting back a smirk.

you shifted back into your normal position, glancing at the two of them. for the first time tonight, they weren’t shooting off quick remarks or teasing you back. instead, they were trying way too hard to act like they were fascinated by the crowd around them, clearly avoiding letting their eyes wander to how your dress hugged your figure just right.

“you guys are so boring,” you teased, breaking the silence with a pout. “maybe i should test my charm with you two to see if it really works,” you added, voice low and dripping with suggestion.

the way they stiffened was almost comical. they exchanged panicked glances, their nervous laughter giving them away immediately. jake cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. “nope, nope, nope. you’re jay’s future wife. we can’t be a part of this madness,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender.

you huffed dramatically, pretending to give in. “fine, i guess you’re right.” a pause hung in the air before you slyly added, “besides, i don’t think you could keep up with me anyway.”

jake’s jaw dropped, his expression a mix of offense and disbelief. “okay, now that was just uncalled for,” he protested, pointing a finger at you like he was scolding you.

you leaned in closer, locking eyes with him, your voice soft yet teasing. “you sure about that?”

“as if jay can,” he scoffed, laughing at his own joke. “but yeah, i’m sure. besides, like i said, you’re practically the future mother of his kids, and—”

“okay, that’s enough,” you cut him off quickly, unable to handle the forwardness of his words. “can we please stop talking about jay for one sec—”

heesung interrupted, grinning like he’d just uncovered some big secret. “guys, i think jay’s busy with his other future wife.”

you and jake froze, immediately following heesung’s gaze. sure enough, jay was leaning casually against a wall, unfazed as a girl who was far too enthusiastic leaned in closer, laughing and touching his arm a little too much for your liking.

“nah,” jake laughed, breaking the tension, “he looks mad uncomfortable"

“damn though, how does he get all the girls while i stay bitchless?” heesung muttered, still focused on jay and the overly eager girl practically draping herself over him.

jake chuckled, but you couldn’t resist poking at heesung. “i just gave you the opportunity of a lifetime, hee,” you teased, referring to your earlier playful flirting, as heesung remained captivated by the unfolding scene of jay and the mystery girl.

he finally tore his gaze away, smirking mischievously. “if jay gave me the green light, i wouldn’t even hesitate, gorgeous,” he shot back smoothly, his words bold and his tone dripping with confidence. he added a wink for good measure, which only made you laugh.

“heesung!” you exclaimed, your voice half-scolding, half-amused.

jake groaned, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “seriously, man? and no, jay would never allow it. neither would i.”

“a guy can dream, can’t he?” heesung shrugged nonchalantly, but the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips made it clear he wasn’t entirely serious. when he noticed the way you and jake were looking at him, though, he quickly backtracked. “what? come on, guys, i’m joking!”

your gaze shifted back to jay, who was still caught in the same uncomfortable interaction. the girl was leaning far too close, her giggles annoyingly loud, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of jealousy in your chest. not that you’d ever admit it to them. instead, you waved it off casually.

“well, hope he has fun with her,” you said breezily, already trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. you weren’t about to let them notice the little twinge of irritation creeping in. besides, comparing his body language with you and her, jay truly was different with you. his smiles, his touches, his attention—it all felt more genuine when it was directed your way. that alone was enough to ease your nerves.

“are you crazy? go save your man!” jake urged, his voice insistent.

“he’ll be fine,” you replied, brushing it off with a casual shrug, though the sight of the girl inching closer made your stomach twist just a bit more.

a pause hung between you before heesung spoke up, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “you know... i heard from a very reliable source that jay likes it when a girl gets jealous...”

you raised an eyebrow, the skepticism clear on your face. “oh, does he now?”. it sounded out of character for jay. he was mature and grounded, the type of guy who would probably find possessiveness off-putting, or so you thought.

“seriously,” jake chimed in, nodding earnestly. “he thinks it’s hot when a girl gets territorial over him. like, it’s his thing or something.”

you hummed thoughtfully, swirling your drink. their sudden insistence felt suspicious, but you couldn’t deny the idea intrigued you.

“go,” heesung urged, motioning for you to stand up. his expression was equally playful and determined.

you sighed dramatically, leaning back against the couch as though the mere suggestion exhausted you. “what if i scare my number one hoe away?” you joked, your voice laced with sarcasm.

the boys burst into laughter but quickly recovered, their expressions shifting to something more earnest. jake shook his head. “nah, you’re good. he’s your hoe, and he knows it.”

their encouragement made you hesitate. part of you wanted to stand your ground, but the other part of you—the side that had been waiting for some kind of signal from jay—felt the push. maybe they were right. maybe this was the moment.

heesung, ever the instigator, leaned closer, his smirk teasing. “what, are you scared now? all that confidence earlier, and now you're pussying out?”

his words struck a nerve. without another thought, you grabbed your drink in one hand and reached for jay’s drink with the other, standing up with newfound purpose.

before heading off, you turned to them, narrowing your eyes in warning. “if this messes things up with jay because of your little scheme, we’re gonna have a serious problem.”

jake and heesung exchanged triumphant glances, their grins growing wide. “awh, so you do care about him,” jake teased softly, his voice dripping with adoration.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips as you turned and made your way toward jay. behind you, the boys exchanged triumphant looks, dapping each other up and eagerly shifting in their seats to get the best view of the chaos they’d just unleashed.

if you were sober right now, this would’ve been much harder. but walking through this high-end club with liquid courage warming your veins made it feel almost too easy. heads turned as you passed, lingering stares trailing over your figure. the way people looked at you—like you were the only person in the room—only fueled your confidence. but your eyes were locked on one person: jay.

every step you took toward him felt like a small victory, closing the distance between you two. your heart pounded in anticipation, but you pushed the feeling aside, focusing on your goal. the world around you blurred, the dim lights, music, and whispers fading into the background.

jay noticed you before you reached him. his expression shifted from mild confusion to relief, and finally, a soft, welcoming smile. he seemed caught off guard by your determined stride, as if trying to piece together why you were heading straight for him.

when you stopped in front of him, his gaze locked onto yours, his dark eyes searching your face. without missing a beat, you offered him a warm smile and extended his drink—the one you’d deliberately taken earlier to sell the illusion. “babe, what took you so long?” you teased, your tone light but purposeful, laced with playful mischief.

jay blinked, taking the drink from you, his brows furrowing slightly. before he could question you, you slid your arm around his back, your fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt as you pulled yourself closer. leaning in, your lips pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. the simple act was sweet, innocent even, but the way your lips lingered for just a second longer than necessary made it impossible for him to dismiss.

he. was. stunned.

his body stiffened slightly under your touch, and as you leaned back, you caught the way his jaw subtly tensed, his lips parted in shock. the confident exterior jay always carried faltered, and the rare sight of him flustered filled you with a quiet satisfaction.

you turned your attention to the girl standing beside him, who had gone completely silent. she stared at you, her expression uncertain, her confidence visibly shaken. you extended your hand toward her, your movements poised and deliberate. “hi, i’m y/n,” you said smoothly, your tone polite but firm, like you were both introducing yourself and reminding her of your place beside jay.

the girl hesitated, glancing between you and jay before awkwardly shaking your hand. she mumbled her name in response, her voice lacking the boldness she’d shown just moments earlier.

you took a slow sip of your drink, studying her with a small smile. “oh, was i interrupting something?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, your tone feigning innocence but carrying an undercurrent of teasing.

before she could answer, jay’s voice cut in. “no, of course not,” he said firmly, his gaze flicking to you, his tone making it clear that your presence wasn’t unwelcome.

the girl, however, looked like she wanted to argue, her lips parting before snapping shut again. she fidgeted awkwardly before finally speaking. “oh, um, i guess i’ll see you around, jay,” she said, her tone quieter now, unsure.

you watched her turn to leave, noting the stiffness in her stride as she hurried back to her friends, who immediately erupted into cheers and claps. the scene was almost laughable, but your attention was drawn back to jay, who had relaxed against the wall. his signature smirk slowly returned, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“why’d you do all that?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, yet there was a hint of something deeper—curiosity, maybe even hope.

“what?” you replied, your voice casual as you leaned against the wall beside him. “you looked uncomfortable.”

jay chuckled softly, shaking his head. “bullshit,” he said, his smirk widening.

“oh, so you weren’t?” you shot back, your eyebrow raising in challenge.

his silence spoke volumes. his eyes, dark and focused, roamed your face, lingering on your lips before meeting your gaze again.

“were you jealous?” he asked finally, his voice dipping lower, the smirk never leaving his face.

your heart skipped a beat, but you refused to let him see how easily he got under your skin. instead, you rolled your eyes, a smirk of your own forming. “did you want her all over you like that?”

jay’s expression shifted slightly, the teasing glint in his eyes sharpening into something more serious, more deliberate. without warning, he pushed himself off the wall, closing the distance between you in a single step.

his free hand found your waist, the warmth of his palm searing through the thin fabric of your dress. “so…” he murmured, his voice a mix of challenge and seduction. his fingers brushed against the curve of your hip, slow and deliberate. “you wouldn’t be jealous if i was this close to her?”

his lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “if i touched her like this?” he continued, his hand sliding lower, his fingertips grazing the small of your back.

“if i kissed her?” his voice dropped further, his lips brushing your neck, the faintest, softest touch that sent a wave of heat flooding through you.

your breath hitched, your body betraying you as a sharp jolt of desire coiled low in your stomach. his scent surrounded you—woodsy, rich, and utterly intoxicating. your knees felt weak, and you gripped your drink tighter, the only thing keeping you steady.

jay pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning your face, waiting for your response. “hm?” he prompted, his tone daring, his smirk back in full force.

you swallowed hard, struggling to regain control. his presence was overwhelming, every inch of him drawing you closer, making it impossible to think straight. but you weren’t going to let him win so easily.

locking eyes with him, you returned his daring stare. “we both know who you’re taking home tonight,” you said, your voice low, steady, and full of confidence.

his eyebrow quirked, intrigued by your defiance. “that doesn’t answer my question, baby,” he murmured, the pet name rolling off his tongue with a smoothness that sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

you inhaled deeply, trying to steady your breathing. “i think you already know the answer,” you whispered.

“i want to hear you say it,” he demanded softly, his voice laced with authority.

you let out a shaky breath, your walls finally crumbling. “you make me crazy,” you admitted, the words barely audible.

his hand slid lower, his fingers teasing the curve of your ass as he leaned in closer. “is that so?” he whispered, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

but you weren’t done. your hand lifted, fingers trailing along his neck, down his chest, and lower, stopping just above his belt. gripping the leather lightly, you tugged him closer, your lips brushing his ear. “take me home and find out,” you murmured, your voice sultry and filled with promise.

jay’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching slightly as his gaze dropped to your lips. for a moment, it felt like the world stopped, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

without another word, he pulled back, his phone already in his hand. “bet,” he said simply, his voice steady but his eyes still burning as he stepped around the corner to order a cab.

you leaned back against the wall, your heart racing, your skin still tingling from his touch. this was new—this was something neither of you could ignore. and as the anticipation bubbled in your chest, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing the night was far from over.

as jay disappeared around the corner to order the cab, you leaned back against the wall, attempting to steady your racing heart. his touch lingered like a trail of fire on your skin, and you couldn’t shake the way his voice—low, teasing, and possessive—had made you feel utterly weak. you took another sip of your drink, the coolness doing little to extinguish the heat that had spread through your body.

your gaze wandered, and it didn’t take long to find jake and heesung. they were still on the couch where you’d left them, and the moment your eyes met theirs, you regretted looking their way.

they were putting on a full-blown performance, clearly reenacting what little they’d witnessed of your interaction with jay.

jake had an arm slung dramatically around heesung’s shoulders, doing his best impression of your earlier actions. heesung batted his eyelashes, clutching an imaginary drink as he leaned into jake.

“oh, stop, i’m blushing!” heesung teased, pretending to giggle as he tilted his head like he was expecting a kiss on the cheek. jake leaned in with exaggerated slowness, and the two burst into laughter before they could even finish the mock kiss.

it didn’t end there. heesung suddenly straightened up, pulling an invisible belt like he’d seen you do with jay, his action dripping with playful exaggeration. jake let out a cackle, wheezing, barely able to contain himself.

their antics caught the attention of a few people around them, who were now glancing over and chuckling at their over-the-top performance.

you groaned inwardly, rolling your eyes. of course they’d turn what little they saw into something absurd. but as ridiculous as they were, you couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto your face.

jake was the first to notice you watching. his grin widened, and he immediately elbowed heesung, nodding in your direction. they both froze, their expressions turning comically innocent like they hadn’t just been clowning you moments earlier.

it didn’t last long. heesung gave you an exaggerated thumbs-up, his grin shameless.

“you’re welcome!” he yelled across the room, loud enough for you to hear clearly over the music.

you sighed, lifting your hand to flip them off with a slow, deliberate motion.

jake clutched his chest in offense, gasping dramatically, throwing himself against heesung like he’d been struck. heesung shook his head, laughing, clearly enjoying the moment far too much.

you rolled your eyes, unable to hold back the grin that tugged at your lips. no matter how much they teased, you knew they’d be cheering you on the whole way through. with one last amused glance at their ridiculous display, you turned your focus back to the moment ahead.

because as much as they enjoyed their antics, they didn’t know what had just transpired between you and jay. and judging by the fire still burning in your chest, you weren’t ready to share it with anyone just yet.

jay came back shortly after, his presence as confident as ever. “you ready?” he asked with a teasing smirk, his hand slipping effortlessly into yours. the simple gesture made your stomach flutter, but you masked it with a coy smile, letting him lead you back toward the couch.

as you approached, it was painfully obvious jake and heesung had been up to no good. they sat there pretending to have the world’s driest conversation about the “architectural integrity” of the club’s interior. their poorly hidden giggles betrayed them, and you could practically see the mischief radiating off them.

the moment their eyes landed on your intertwined hands, their mouths stretched into matching, shit-eating grins. they exchanged a quick look, clearly bursting with pride at their matchmaking success.

“we’re leaving,” jay announced nonchalantly, his tone cool and indifferent. “heading to y/n’s place.”

their grins widened, barely able to contain themselves.

“guysss,” jake whined dramatically, leaning forward with his chin in his hands. “don’t you wanna hang out with us a little longer? it’s been such a fun night.”

jay didn’t even blink. “don’t ask dumb questions,” he said flatly, leaving jake mock-offended as he clutched his chest and let out an exaggerated gasp.

“wow, okay, guess we’re just chopped liver now,” heesung chimed in, shaking his head as if deeply betrayed.

you giggled, amused at their dramatics, as you walked around the table to grab your purse. but before you could escape, the boys were on their feet, ready to send you off with one last round of chaos.

heesung clapped jay on the back and said goodbye with a knowing smirk, but it was jake who went in for the kill.

as you bent down to pick up your bag, jake leaned in close, his voice low and teasing. “be a good girl, yeah?”

you froze for half a second before whipping your head around to give him a sharp look. “jake,” you warned, your tone laced with disbelief.

he laughed, brushing it off like he hadn’t just said something that would replay in your mind for the rest of the night. before you could respond, he pulled you into a suffocating hug, swaying you side to side like an overly affectionate big brother.

“jake,” you groaned, your voice strained. “if you don’t let me go, i’m gonna throw up all over your ridiculously overpriced suit.”

he released you immediately, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “fine, fine,” he said with a grin. “but you owe me for being such a great friend.”

jay shook his head, amused, as he stepped forward to dap up jake. meanwhile, you turned to heesung, who was already smirking as he pulled you into a hug.

“do everything i’d do,” he muttered into your ear, his tone dripping with mischief.

you leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “hee, i think you’ve got that saying wrong.”

he shrugged, his grin widening. “nah, you heard me.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. their antics were relentless.

as you turned to leave, heesung suddenly called out, “wait, jay—one more thing!”

jay sighed, already looking annoyed, but walked back over to him anyway.

heesung waved him closer, gesturing like he had some urgent, life-changing information to share. jay leaned down, and in one swift motion, heesung slipped something into his hand.

jay straightened up and opened his palm to reveal an xxl condom. your jaw dropped, and you clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

jay stared at the condom, then up at heesung, who was already grinning like a fool. jake was no better, nearly doubled over in silent laughter.

after a beat of silence, jay let out the most sarcastic laugh you’d ever heard, his expression deadpan as he raised his hand to dap up heesung.

heesung, thinking he’d succeeded in his prank, lifted his hand eagerly—only for jay to drop his own and toss the condom back at him with a straight face.

“you’re actually insane,” jay said, shaking his head in disbelief as he turned to grab your hand.

you couldn’t hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter as jay tried to pull you toward the exit.

“what, dude? we just don’t wanna be uncles yet!” jake called after you, his voice full of fake concern.

without missing a beat, you turned your head back to them and shouted, “don’t worry. i have my own!”

their laughter exploded as jay finally led you away, his own chuckle slipping out as he shook his head. your friends were a pain, but you couldn’t deny they’d played a part in making the night unforgettable.

stepping outside into the crisp night air, the chill brushed against your skin, but it wasn’t the cold that sent shivers down your spine. it was the situation. your mind, slightly hazy from the alcohol, began to clear as reality hit. this wasn’t just another playful night with jay. there was something electric about this moment—something that made your nerves buzz and your heart race. despite the countless teasing and bold words exchanged between you two, the idea of acting on them felt entirely new, thrilling, and terrifying.

jay noticed the goosebumps on your arms almost immediately. without hesitation, he slipped off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. the weight of it, the lingering scent of his cologne, enveloped you, and your pulse quickened. it was a simple gesture, but the effect it had on you was anything but. little did he know the goosebumps weren’t from the cold—if anything, the alcohol had kept you warm—but from the thought of him, his touch, his presence.

“the cab’s going to be here in a couple of minutes,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the stillness of the night.

you nodded, leaning your back against the wrought iron fence in the dimly lit parking lot, your eyes trailing over him. jay looked impossibly handsome under the soft glow of the streetlights, his dark hair slightly tousled, his features sharp yet softened by the gentle lighting. you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you admired him openly.

“what?” he asked, his usual confident tone faltering slightly as your gaze lingered.

“nothing,” you replied with a grin, your voice light and teasing. “you’re just really handsome.”

he rolled his eyes, a soft laugh escaping him, but the faint blush dusting his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed. “you’re impossible,” he murmured, though the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed him.

he stepped closer, leaning his shoulder against the fence beside you. the proximity made your heart race, and when his eyes met yours again, the world seemed to slow down.

you shifted, turning your body fully to face him, the playful air between you giving way to something more vulnerable. “so,” you began, your voice softer now, “who was that girl really?”

jay raised an eyebrow, his smile growing wider. “so you were jealous.”

you quickly shook your head, though you couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped. “i wasn’t jealous. just curious,” you countered, though even you weren’t convinced by your own words.

he chuckled, his laugh warm and low, sending a shiver down your spine. “she was no one. honestly, she stopped me outside the bathroom and just started talking. i think her friends dared her or something—she kept glancing back at this group of girls, and they were all staring and giggling like maniacs.” he shook his head, laughing at the absurdity of it.

you snorted, the ridiculousness of the situation breaking through your earlier tension. “sounds like quite the encounter.”

his gaze shifted then, darkening slightly as his teasing tone faded. “but what about you?” he asked, his voice dropping. “why were jake and heesung being so flirty with you?”

you smirked, leaning in slightly. “now look who’s jealous.”

he scoffed, his hand brushing against yours as he closed the small gap between you. “of course i’m jealous. how could i not be?” his voice was lower now, his words deliberate and dripping with sincerity. “just look at you.”

you tilted your head, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “what can i say, jongseong? you’re one lucky man.”

his expression softened, his eyes scanning your face like he was memorizing every detail. “i am,” he admitted quietly. “you’re… unreal. like some angel who just fell out of the sky. i know it sounds cheesy, but… i’ve never felt like this before. not about anyone.”

his words hung in the air, their weight settling over you and making your chest tighten. you’d always known jay was smooth with words, but the raw honesty in his voice now was enough to leave you speechless.

“shit,” he muttered, his eyes dropping to your lips. he trailed off, but the way his body leaned into yours told you everything he didn’t say.

and then his lips were on yours, hot and insistent. the kiss was everything you’d imagined and more, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. you responded immediately, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

his hand found your waist, gripping it firmly as his other braced against the fence behind you. the feel of his body pressed against yours, the heat radiating off him, was intoxicating. every nerve in your body seemed to light up under his touch, and when his teeth grazed your lower lip, a quiet moan slipped from you.

the sound seemed to embolden him, but before either of you could take it further, a car honked nearby, pulling you both out of the moment. you turned to see a sleek black car pulling up to the curb, the driver glancing your way with an unreadable expression.

jay let out a soft laugh, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment before he pulled back slightly. “cab’s here,” he said, his voice still husky.

he took your hand, guiding you toward the car and opening the door for you. you slid in, rolling your eyes playfully at his gentlemanly ways but secretly loving every second of it. he climbed in after you, settling beside you and reaching over to buckle your seatbelt before you could. the small, intimate gesture made your heart flutter, and you leaned back into the seat, trying to compose yourself.

as the car pulled away, the tension between you two was palpable. the driver’s presence kept things quiet, but you could feel jay’s thigh pressing against yours, his hand resting dangerously close to your own.

“uh,” he began, clearing his throat awkwardly. “sorry if i was too forward back there. i—”

you cut him off with a quiet “shut up,” turning to him and pressing your lips to his once more.

jay stiffened briefly before relaxing, his hand finding its way to your thigh as you twisted to face him. the kiss deepened, your hands wandering over his chest, tracing the lines of his body. his fingers gripped your leg, sliding slightly upward, and your breath hitched at the contact.

you knew this was reckless, making out in the backseat of a cab with a stranger just feet away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. all the tension that had built between you two over the past months was finally spilling over, and you weren’t about to stop.

jay groaned softly when your teeth grazed his lower lip, and the sound sent another wave of heat through you. your lips left his, trailing kisses along his jaw and down his neck, and he leaned back slightly, giving you better access. you were just about to leave a mark when the car came to a sudden stop.

the abrupt halt had you both groaning in frustration, and jay pulled out his wallet, handing the driver a wad of cash—far more than necessary. probably his way of apologizing for the awkward atmosphere you two had just created.

the driver nodded, clearly unimpressed but grateful for the generous tip. you climbed out of the car, jay’s hand finding yours again as he led you toward the entrance of your apartment complex. neither of you spoke, the tension still crackling between you, and you knew the night was far from over.

you rushed into the building, gripping jay’s hand tightly, your heels echoing against the floor as you practically dragged him toward the elevator. his fingers intertwined with yours, his palm warm and firm, grounding you even as anticipation buzzed through your veins. the cool air from outside had barely faded from your skin, but the heat between you two was already rekindling, more intense with every step. jay trailed close behind, his free hand brushing lightly against the small of your back, the touch sending sparks up your spine.

as soon as the elevator doors slid open, you stepped inside, your focus solely on the buttons as you pressed the one for your floor. jay, however, was far more interested in you than the machinery. the moment the doors closed, he moved behind you, his hands slipping around your waist to pull you against him. the action was gentle yet possessive, his lips already brushing the side of your neck.

“couldn’t wait until we got upstairs?” you teased breathlessly, tilting your head slightly to give him better access.

jay chuckled lowly, his voice a soft growl in your ear. “not when you look like this.” his lips pressed against the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses from your jawline down to your shoulder. the heat of his breath and the softness of his lips left you shivering, though it had nothing to do with the air conditioning in the lift.

you let out a soft sigh, leaning your head back against his shoulder, your body molding itself against his. the faint scent of his cologne mingled with the lingering alcohol on his breath, a heady combination that made your thoughts blur. his hands began to roam, one slipping to rest on your hip while the other grazed the curve of your waist. each touch was slow and deliberate, as if he were trying to memorize every inch of you.

your breathing hitched when you felt his arousal pressing against your lower back. jay’s movements grew bolder, his lips finding a particularly sensitive spot on your neck that made you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

you spun around to face him, breaking his trail of kisses. the look in his eyes—dark and filled with need—made your stomach twist in the best way. before he could say anything else, you grabbed his collar, pulling him down for a kiss. it was immediate and desperate, your mouths moving together as though you were starved for each other. your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently, and the low groan he let out only fueled the fire building inside you.

just as his hands slid lower, grazing the curve of your ass, the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal your floor. reluctantly, you pulled back, your lips swollen and your breathing heavy. jay didn’t let go of you, though, his hand finding yours again as he guided you out of the elevator.

his steps faltered slightly as he looked down the wrong hallway. “this way, right?” he asked, glancing at you with an innocent smile.

you rolled your eyes, tugging him gently in the opposite direction. “wrong way, loverboy,” you teased, your voice light despite the tension simmering between you.

he chuckled softly, following your lead, though he couldn’t resist letting his gaze wander. walking behind you, his eyes drifted to the sway of your hips, and before he could stop himself, his hand reached out to deliver a light slap to your ass. you turned your head to glare at him, though the amused smile tugging at your lips gave you away..

as you approached your apartment door, you let go of jay’s hand, fishing through your purse for your keys. your fingers fumbled slightly, whether from the alcohol, the adrenaline, or jay’s wandering hands, which had returned to your waist, sliding over your curves with deliberate slowness. his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, and you could feel his smile against your skin.

“be patient,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder to meet his heated gaze. “i’m not going anywhere.”

jay let out a low chuckle, but his hands betrayed his growing impatience, gripping your hips tighter. finally, you managed to retrieve the keys, unlocking the door with a satisfying click. before you could step inside, jay pushed the door open, his movements swift as he guided you in and closed it behind you. the door locked with a decisive snap, and just like that, the tension between you reignited.

his lips were on yours in an instant, the kiss messy and frantic. your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just hard enough to draw a low growl from him, while his hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of you he could reach. you were drowning in him, lost in the heat of his touch and the intoxicating pull of his lips.

but just as your fingers found the buckle of his belt, jay abruptly pulled back, his hands falling to his sides as he stepped back slightly. the look on his face was one of hesitation, his brows furrowed as though he was wrestling with himself.

“are you okay?” you asked softly, your chest still heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

jay ran a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze for a moment. “i just… are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “we’re drunk… i just… i want our first time to be special.” his words were hesitant, uncharacteristically shy for someone usually so confident.

you blinked at him, his concerns sinking in. part of you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it—after all, you knew exactly what you wanted, and it was him. but the sincerity in his eyes stopped you. he wasn’t just stalling for the sake of it; he truly cared.

he hesitated again, looking away as if he were afraid of your reaction. “i just don’t want this to mess things up between us. i don’t want you to regret it in the morning.”

you sighed, slipping off his jacket and hanging it neatly on a hook before toeing off your heels. “if you think that’s best, then we don’t have to do anything,” you said, stepping closer and cupping his face in your hands. “i trust you, jay.”

but despite your calm words, frustration simmered beneath the surface. he had left you on the edge, your body practically vibrating with need, and now he wanted to stop? you couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry at how ridiculous the situation was. still, you respected him too much to push.

jay bit his lip, his expression torn. “it’s not that i don’t want to,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “trust me, i’ve never wanted anything more. but…” he trailed off, his eyes darting to the floor before meeting yours again. his teasing smirk returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “how about we pick this up tomorrow? first thing in the morning?”

you raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed but choosing not to argue. instead, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “sure,” you murmured, though your tone betrayed your irritation.

you walked to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, trying to cool off in more ways than one. jay followed, leaning against the counter in silence. his jaw was tense, his eyes focused on some distant point as though deep in thought. it was clear he was second-guessing his decision, his discomfort only heightened by the obvious strain in his pants.

you smirked, an idea forming in your mind. setting your glass down, you leaned over the kitchen island, deliberately arching your back to give him a perfect view of your ass. the action snapped him out of his thoughts, his eyes darkening as they locked onto you.

“i’m going to take a shower,” you said casually, flipping your hair over your shoulder to expose your neck—the same neck he had been so eager to mark earlier.

jay’s lips parted as if to say something, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed on you.

you started to walk away, throwing one last smirk over your shoulder. “goodnight, loverboy,” you teased.

“wait,” he called out, his voice strained.

you turned, feigning innocence. “yes?”

he hesitated, his fists clenching at his sides. “are you sure… we’re on the same page?”

you bit back a laugh, recognizing his internal struggle for what it was. stepping closer, you looked up at him, your lips curving into a sly smile. “sure,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “but honestly? i think you’re all talk.”

the words hit their mark, his jaw tightening as his ego flared. “fuck you,” he hissed, before pulling you against him, his lips crashing down on yours once more. his hand found your jaw, tilting your head to the side as he resumed his assault on your neck, this time with more intensity.

you grinned in success. finally, nothing was standing in your way.

he captured your lips again, his hands firm yet gentle as he guided you backward until the couch pressed against the back of your knees. without breaking the kiss, jay’s fingers skillfully found the zipper of your dress, pulling it down in one smooth motion. the fabric fell from your shoulders, pooling at your feet to reveal the black lace lingerie you’d chosen earlier that night. he pulled away momentarily, his gaze sweeping over your figure with a mix of admiration and desire.

as he began trailing kisses back toward your lips, his mouth left a burning path along your skin—starting at your thighs, teasingly brushing against your clothed heat, moving to your stomach, breasts, collarbones, and finally back to your neck. each kiss was slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every inch of you. he unclasped your bra, sliding it off and tossing it carelessly to the floor before his eyes returned to your bare chest.

jay’s lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he just stared, taking in the sight of you completely exposed before him. a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “you’re just too perfect, aren’t you?” he murmured, his hands cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing lightly over your sensitive peaks. “seriously, how the fuck did i get this lucky?”

his lips found your skin again, marking you as though he were leaving a map of his journey across your body. you rolled your eyes at his teasing, though a smirk of your own played on your lips.

“maybe i’m the lucky one,” you shot back, sliding your hands beneath his sweater and tugging it over his head, revealing his toned chest. the sight of his defined muscles had your pulse racing, but you didn’t let it distract you. with newfound determination, you moved to unbuckle his belt, picking up where you’d left off in the heat of the moment earlier. in one swift motion, you pulled his pants and boxers down together, his erection springing free.

the size of him caught you off guard, your eyes widening slightly as you connected the dots about the xxl condom heeseung had teased him about. jay noticed your reaction and let out a low chuckle, his confidence only growing. “looks like i wasn’t the only one talking a big game,” he teased, his smirk widening.

your gaze snapped back to his, a spark of determination flaring in your chest. you were going to prove him wrong. you sank to your knees in front of him, your fingers brushing against his thighs as you prepared to take him in your mouth, but before you could, he grabbed your waist, lifting you effortlessly and laying you back onto the couch.

“you first, princess,” he said, the nickname sending a shiver through you. he grinned at the way your body seemed to melt beneath his touch, leaning down to kiss your lips one more time before shifting lower.

his hands found the sides of your hips, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and sliding them down your legs. the cool air against your bare skin only heightened your anticipation as he tossed the fabric aside. his gaze lingered on your glistening core, and he let out a low groan.

“fuck, you’re flawless,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “and so fucking wet.”

“just for you, seongie,” you teased, the nickname making his head tilt slightly as he bit his lip. the effect it had on him was clear, and you took advantage of it, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. “don’t make me wait,” you whispered impatiently.

jay’s tongue traced a slow, deliberate line along your slit, and the sensation had your body trembling almost instantly. he smiled against you, the vibration of his amusement only adding to the intensity. his lips wrapped around your most sensitive spot, sucking gently before his tongue began working in circles. your back arched involuntarily, a string of soft moans spilling from your lips.

“jay,” you managed to mumble, though your voice was barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. hearing his name roll off your tongue so sweetly made him hum in response, the added stimulation pushing you closer to the edge.

the knot in your stomach tightened, your body reacting to every flick and stroke of his tongue. an idea sparked in your mind, and with a shaky breath, you tugged lightly at his hair, pulling him back just enough to speak. his face was glistening with your slick, his lips swollen and his pupils blown wide. he looked utterly wrecked—and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

“touch yourself,” you said breathlessly, your voice laced with both a command and a plea.

his lips curled into a smirk, but he didn’t hesitate. one hand disappeared between his legs as he dove back in, his tongue working you over with renewed vigor. the combination of his moans and yours filled the room, each sound pushing you both closer to your breaking points. your hips bucked against his face, seeking more, and he didn’t hold back, gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he devoured you.

the tension in your core finally snapped, and your release crashed over you in waves, your body trembling as you cried out his name. jay groaned against you, his movements slowing as he licked you clean, savoring every drop of your climax. his own hand stilled, though it was clear he was still achingly hard.

when he pulled back, his face was flushed, his lips parted as he caught his breath. his gaze locked onto yours, his eyes dark with unspoken need.

you reached out, brushing your fingers against his jaw. “my turn,” you murmured, a mischievous glint in your eye.

jay leaned back against the couch, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. a satisfied smirk played on his lips, a mixture of pride and disbelief settling in as he replayed the last few minutes in his mind. he couldn’t help but feel impressed with himself for holding it together as long as he had—especially considering how hard it was not to lose control the moment you kissed him in the cab. inwardly, he gave himself a silent pat on the back.

you, however, weren’t finished. sitting up on shaky legs, you closed the gap between you, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. it was messy and unrestrained, your tongue brushing against his as you tasted yourself on his lips. the act alone sent another wave of arousal through your body, and jay groaned into the kiss, his fingers grazing your jaw to pull you closer.

breaking the kiss, you slid down onto your knees in front of him. jay’s dark eyes followed you, his body tense with anticipation as his chest heaved. his gaze was heavy, and you could see the thin layer of sweat glistening on his skin. he leaned back into the couch, spreading his legs slightly to give you better access. the weight of his arousal was evident, his cock flushed and rigid, standing tall between his thighs.

you started slow, trailing light kisses along the inside of his thighs. his muscles twitched under your touch, and a low groan escaped his lips. your fingers wrapped around his length, stroking him gently as you worked your way closer. jay tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as he let the sensation wash over him. but that wasn’t what you wanted. you wanted his attention—all of it.

you paused abruptly, releasing him from your grasp. his eyes snapped open, the confusion and slight panic evident as he looked down at you. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice husky and laced with concern.

you tilted your head, your tone firm but teasing as you commanded, “look at me.”

jay’s brows furrowed, and a soft, involuntary moan slipped from his lips. there was something about the dominance in your voice, the way you took control, that drove him wild. “yes, ma’am,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes locking with yours.

satisfied with his obedience, you resumed your teasing, your tongue flicking out to lick a slow line from the base of his shaft to the tip. your movements were deliberate, your eyes never leaving his as you circled the sensitive head with your tongue, tasting the salty bead of precum that had already formed. his breath hitched, and his hands clenched at his sides as he fought to keep himself grounded.

when you finally took him into your mouth, jay’s hand instinctively found its way to your hair. he gathered it into a ponytail, his grip firm yet careful, as though he were afraid of hurting you. you started slow, taking as much of him as you could manage, though his size made it a challenge. your cheeks hollowed as you sucked, and jay let out a deep groan, his hips shifting slightly.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained as he tried to keep himself in check. but the sight of you on your knees, your lips wrapped around him, was too much. his resolve was crumbling, and he knew it.

each time you slid him deeper into your mouth, the tip of his cock brushed against the back of your throat, making you gag softly. jay noticed your struggle and let out a low chuckle, his voice tinged with both amusement and lust. “you’re doing so good, baby,” he praised, his hand gently guiding your movements as he pushed and pulled on your hair.

you used one hand to stroke the length you couldn’t take, your movements synchronized with the bobbing of your head. occasionally, you pulled back to catch your breath, your hand continuing to work him as you pressed kisses and sucked lightly along his length, teasing him further. jay was a mess, his lips parted as he panted, his head falling back against the couch. his other hand gripped the cushion tightly as he tried to keep himself together.

“let me hear you, jay,” you murmured, your voice soft but commanding. “don’t hold it back.”

his head snapped back up at your words, his dark eyes meeting yours as he finally let go. a string of deep, guttural moans poured from his lips, each one making your core tighten with need. the sounds of his pleasure were addictive, spurring you on as you sucked harder, your cheeks hollowing to intensify the sensation.

you quickened your pace, your hand and mouth working together seamlessly. jay’s grip on your hair tightened slightly, his hips bucking up involuntarily as he lost himself in the pleasure. “fuck, baby, i’m close,” he warned, his voice shaky and breathless.

with one final swirl of your tongue around his tip and a firm stroke of your hand, jay’s body tensed. his release came in hot, thick spurts down your throat, and you swallowed every drop without hesitation. his moans echoed through the room, raw and unrestrained, as his body shuddered from the intensity of his climax.

you pulled back slowly, licking your lips and catching any stray drops that had escaped. jay looked completely wrecked, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his composure. his head lolled back against the couch, and his eyes fluttered shut as a satisfied groan escaped his lips.

but you weren’t done. the ache between your legs was unbearable, and the sight of jay so undone only made it worse. your thighs pressed together instinctively, trying to find some relief, but it wasn’t enough.

jay opened his eyes, his gaze heavy with exhaustion but still laced with hunger. he noticed the way you were squirming, your need evident in the way you looked at him. a lazy smirk spread across his face. “looks like someone needs a little more attention,” he teased, his voice low and teasing. you bit your lip, your cheeks flushing slightly as you nodded.

jay reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek before trailing down your body. “then let me take care of you,” he murmured, his smirk shifting into a soft, genuine smile.

jay smirked at the match of energy you gave him, his hands resting on your hips as you slowly adjusted yourself in his lap to straddle him. your eyes locked, the unspoken tension in the air making your breaths heavier before you leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was far more heated than the ones before. it was raw, passionate, and both of you couldn’t help the soft moans that escaped into each other's mouths as you tasted the combined remnants of yourselves on each other’s tongues.

his hands traveled down your body, settling on your ass and squeezing firmly. the action made you gasp against his lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss further. when he broke away, he trailed his lips back down to your chest, focusing his attention on your breasts once more, kissing, sucking, and lightly biting the sensitive flesh. sweet hums slipped from your lips as your fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him exactly where you wanted him.

you started grinding against him slowly, your arousal evident as you rubbed yourself along his length, desperate for more. jay groaned into your skin, his hands moving to hold your hips firmly in place. one of his hands slid down between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit and circling it softly, the touch sending jolts of electricity through your body.

you pulled his lips back to yours for another deep, messy kiss, the moan in your throat muffled as you whispered, “please, jay.”

he froze for a moment, your plea echoing in his mind. he didn’t even need you to beg, but hearing those words fall from your lips so willingly ignited something deep inside him. "fuck, princess," he murmured against your lips before leaning forward to reach for his pants, holding you steady with one hand so you wouldn’t fall back.

jay pulled out a condom from his pocket, his lips quirking into a grin. you laughed softly, tilting your head back. “how ironic,” you teased. “i was wondering why you didn’t take the ones from hee earlier. now i guess i know why.”

he laughed against your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. “you’re making me look crazy, like i planned this whole thing from the start.”

you bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. “you didn’t?” you asked, feigning offense.

“it spawned in my pocket, okay? end of topic,” he quipped, his grin wide. “now kiss me and forget we even had this conversation.”

you shook your head, laughing, but complied, leaning in to kiss him deeply as he fumbled to open the condom behind your back. once it was ready, he leaned back slightly, rolling it on before meeting your gaze.

placing your hands on his shoulders, you slowly lifted yourself, adjusting to align yourself with him. the anticipation built as you began to lower yourself, his tip stretching you inch by inch. you both groaned at the overwhelming sensation, your tightness making it difficult to take him in completely.

jay’s hand came up to stroke your head gently, his thumb brushing soothingly along your temple. “slow down, princess,” he murmured, his tone soft and reassuring. “i’m not going anywhere.”

his words sent a wave of calm through you, allowing you to relax and adjust. a small giggle escaped your lips, and jay smirked at the sound, pleased to see you loosening up. with a deep breath, you lowered yourself fully, gasping as he filled you completely. his hands settled back on your hips, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

“you’re doing so good, baby,” he praised, his voice filled with genuine admiration. the way he said it, so sweet and sincere, made you lean forward and kiss him again, your lips pressing against his in a needy, desperate way. slowly, you began to move, grinding yourself up and down his length.

the initial sting of pain dissolved into pure pleasure as you found your rhythm, your hips rolling fluidly against him. jay met your movements halfway, his own hips snapping up to match your pace. his grip on your waist tightened as his other hand trailed up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple.

the sounds in the room were sinful—breathless moans, gasps, and the slick sound of your bodies meeting in perfect harmony. your brows furrowed, your lips parting as waves of pleasure rippled through you. jay cursed under his breath at the sight of you, his own restraint faltering as he felt his release creeping closer.

“fuck, you’re perfect,” he groaned, leaning forward to capture your lips once again. his lips trailed down your jawline to your neck, where he nipped and kissed, leaving faint marks behind. the added sensation made you tremble, and your movements quickened, your thighs burning as you chased your high.

jay’s fingers found your clit again, rubbing circles against it in time with your thrusts. the overwhelming pleasure sent you over the edge, a loud, broken moan escaping your lips as you came undone. jay wasn’t far behind, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself deep inside you, releasing with a guttural groan.

you collapsed against his chest, both of you struggling to catch your breath as you came down from the high. your foreheads rested together, your sweaty skin sticking slightly as you shared soft, lazy kisses. the silence that followed was peaceful, filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing.

jay broke the quiet first, his voice soft and unsure. “be my girlfriend?”

you laughed lightly, lifting your head to look at him. “you should’ve asked that before we had sex,” you teased, your tone playful.

jay’s face lit up with laughter, his deep chuckles shaking both of your bodies. “okay, fair,” he admitted, nodding. “may i be your boyfriend, then?” he asked again, this time with a slight pout that made your heart flutter.

you smirked, pretending to think it over. “you’re getting closer…”

he tilted his head, pretending to be deep in thought before blurting out, “be my wife.”

you laughed, poking his chest. “that’s a little forward, don’t you think?” you teased. then, softening, you added, “but… yes.”

jay’s eyes lit up, and he pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss, his hands cradling your face as he grinned against your lips. the moment was interrupted by the sharp sound of a phone ringing. jay groaned in frustration, leaning back to grab his phone from where it had fallen in his pants.

when he checked the screen, both of your eyes locked on the caller ID. “cupids' worst minion?” you giggled, amused at the nickname.

jay sighed. “jake,” he muttered, earning a laugh from you. “he’s the worst at giving advice... but i guess it worked out. might have to rethink that nickname later.”

he answered the call, putting it on speaker. “oh, god, jay, you picked up?” jake’s voice came through, laced with panic. “i don’t know if that’s a good sign.”

you giggled as jay rolled his eyes. in the background, you could hear faint laughter and the unmistakable voices of the rest of the group. “ayo, you busy right now?” jungwon’s voice cut through, and you both exchanged amused looks.

“kinda, yeah,” jay replied, smirking at you.

“okay, i’ll be quick,” jungwon said hurriedly. “how’s it going with your future wife? hee and jake told us everything—details and all—and i’m losing it. give us an update!”

both you and jay burst into laughter, the sound making the other line fall silent. jay smirked at the phone. “yeah, we’re locked in,” he said confidently.

silence followed for a beat before the loudest cheering erupted from the other end. you and jay laughed along with them, the sound of your shared joy filling the room.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Everything is Blue

Barty Crouch Jr x FWB!Potter!Reader

AN: Are we really surprised? They are all I think about.

Summary: As things escalate with Barty he draws a line in the sand.

CW: Not proof read wrote this on my lunch break sorry yall :(, oxic!Mean!Barty, Toxic!Mean!Reader, Cussing, sexual themes and behaviors, Hair Pulling, rough handling, angsty, hurt no comfort, everyone's the bad guy, Remus being dragged into it (because I'm predictable), {If I'm missing anything please let me know}

WC: 4.9k

The door to Barty’s dorm scraped open with its usual obnoxious grind, the result of a half-hearted transfiguration after a particularly chaotic night. It was too big for the frame, but no one cared enough to fix it. Least of all Barty.

He tossed his satchel to the floor as he stepped inside, a cigarette already between his fingers. The other boys in the room froze for half a second before scattering like startled mice, clearly unwilling to stick around now that they’d heard your voice trailing in behind him.

“I just wish you wouldn’t talk about Remus like that,” You huffed, brushing past the discarded bag without a second glance. There was a sharpness to your tone, even as you moved to sit on Barty’s unmade bed. Arms crossed, you looked every bit the picture of stubborn indignation. “He’s a sweetheart if you’d give him a chance.”

Barty let out a low chuckle, crouching to strike a match against the ruined floorboards. He lit the cigarette with ease, shaking out the flame before tossing the spent match to the carpet and grinding it under his heel. “Hate to break it to you, treasure, but your dear Lupin’s just as bad as the rest of them. Just like your jock of a brother.”

You scoffed, a bitter sound that came with a roll of your eyes. “Jock? Oh, please. And you’re not? Beater.”

He barked out a laugh, straightening as he took a drag. “Touché,” He chuckled, exhaling smoke through the corner of his mouth. “But no need to get your claws out, pretty thing.”

“Don’t call me that,” You snapped, though there was no real heat behind it. You shifted, ready to get up, but Barty stepped closer, his grin growing sharper. Before you could fully stand, his hand pressed firmly against your shoulder, easing you back down.

“Not so fast.” He murmured, cigarette dangling between his teeth. His free hand brushed through your hair, a casual, practiced move that sent a shiver down your spine despite yourself. “All I’m saying, doll, is your precious Remus isn’t as innocent as you think.”

Your jaw clenched, and you glared up at him, determined not to let him see how easily he got under your skin. But it was impossible to ignore the way his touch lingered, the quiet dominance in the way he stood over you.

It was a cliche if anything; James Potter’s prim, polished sister sneaking off with the resident Ravenclaw bad boy. But whatever this was, it wasn’t romance. Not even close. It was something raw and messy, simmering with tension, much less control. And no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you didn’t hate it.

Suddenly, his grip on your hair tightened at the roots, the sharp tug forcing your head back and drawing a startled gasp from your lips. “Oh, but he does love putting on a show for you, doesn’t he?” Barty’s voice was low, taunting, his words dripping with mockery as he loomed over you.

The sting at your scalp sent a flush of heat coursing through you; equal parts anger and something more complicated. His gaze flicked to your neck, lingering on the faint marks still visible beneath the clumsy glamour spell you’d used to cover his handiwork. His lips curved into a smirk, satisfaction radiating from him as if he’d already won some unspoken battle.

“You’re so predictable,” He cooed, tilting his head as if examining a puzzle only he could solve. His grip loosened slightly, just enough to let his fingers glide through your hair, but the dominance in his posture didn’t waver. “Tell me, doll face, how long are you going to keep pretending this doesn’t amuse you?”

You swallowed hard, your pride demanding that you glare back at him with every ounce of defiance you could muster. But beneath the tension, you both knew the truth- you were caught in his game, no matter how much you hated the rules.

Barty’s grip slackened, his fingers moving from your hair to cradle the curve of your jaw, but the smug glint in his eyes remained. His cigarette hung precariously from his lips, the smoke curling between you in a way that made the air feel heavier. He tipped your face up, tilting his head as he studied you, his smirk growing sharper when you refused to look away.

“Still playing the good girl, huh?” He chuckled, voice low and mocking as his thumb traced the edge of your cheekbone. “It’s cute, really. But I've seen too much of you to fall for it. You want this.”

“Shut up, Barty.” You snapped, the defiance in your tone wavering just enough to make him laugh- a deep, infuriating sound that made your stomach churn. He took the cigarette from his lips, flicking the ash carelessly onto the floor before tossing it into a forgotten corner of the room.

“Make me.” He challenged.

Before you could overthink it, your hands shot up, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down to crash his lips against yours. The kiss was rough, almost frantic, and any pretense of control he had disappeared the moment your nails dragged down his chest. His hands gripped your waist, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise as he pulled you closer, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made your breath hitch.

The kiss grew heated, messy, both of you lost in the intensity that always seemed to ignite when you were near each other. Barty's hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t get enough. For a moment, you forgot where you were, forgot the smugness that usually dripped from his every word. It was all consuming, fire and chaos in equal measure.

But then his lips trailed to the corner of your mouth, brushing there as he murmured against your skin. “Tell me, doll face, does Lupin get you like this? Or are you saving all the fun just for me?”

The words were like a slap. You shoved at his chest, hard enough to break the kiss, your eyes blazing with anger. “Are you serious right now? Merlin, Barty, you’re insufferable!”

He stumbled back a step, laughing as he ran a hand through his hair, clearly unbothered by your sudden shift. “What? Too close to home?” He taunted, his smirk sharp and infuriating. “Or are you upset because you know I’m right?”

You glared at him, your chest heaving as you tried to rein in your temper. “Right about what? You don’t know a damn thing about me, or about Remus!”

“Oh, I know plenty,” He shot back, his voice dropping to something dark, something mocking. He stepped closer again, his presence overwhelming. “I know you like the bad boys more than you’d ever admit. Your precious Lupin? He’s got that little edge you love, doesn’t he? But me-” He grinned, shameless and cocky, as his hand reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m the one who gives you this rush, doll. I see it every time you look at me.”

“Shut up,” You snapped, your voice trembling with anger. “You’re so full of yourself, Barty.”

“Am I?” He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he studied you. “Then why are you still here, hmm? Why not run back to your safe little Gryffindor bubble if I’m so insufferable?”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but nothing came. He was right- damn him, he was right and he knew it. The realization made your skin burn, and the frustration bubbled over.

“Because I hate you,” You spat, though the words sounded hollow, even to your own ears.

Barty’s grin widened, and his hand trailed down your arm, his touch infuriatingly light. “Oh, doll, we both know that’s not true,” He murmured. “You might hate that you want me, but you don’t hate me.”

You clenched your jaw, every muscle in your body screaming at you to storm out of the room. But his hand slid to your hip, grounding you, pulling you back into his orbit. You hated the way his presence made you feel- like you were caught in a web you couldn’t escape.

“Why are you like this?” You hissed, your voice cracking slightly as you met his gaze.

His expression softened for just a moment, the teasing edge fading as he studied you. “Because it’s you,” He said simply, his voice quiet but no less intense. “And because I know you can take it.”

That quiet admission threw you off, and for a second, you faltered. He took the opportunity to lean in again, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a kiss. “Go on, doll face,” He murmured. “Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t. And before you could stop yourself, you were pulling him back to you, your anger bleeding into something just as fiery but far more dangerous.

Barty’s laugh rumbled against your lips, low and triumphant, his hands roamed your back, his touch both grounding and maddening. The kiss deepened again, the tension between you still sharp but now laced with something rawer.

But the moment was far from stable. Barty was never one to let things settle; it wasn’t in his nature. Even now, as his lips pressed against yours with an intensity that should have silenced his need for words, he pulled back just enough to murmur, “You’re addictive, you know that? Bet it drives Lupin mad.”

The mention of Remus again broke whatever fragile truce the kiss had created. Your fingers, which had been gripping the fabric of his shirt, pushed him back with force, your glare sharp enough to cut. “You can’t just keep bringing him up like that, Barty!”

“What, does it hit a nerve?” He shot back, his smirk creeping back into place as he took a step closer. He was relentless, infuriating, the kind of person who thrived on lighting matches just to watch the fire burn. “Or maybe it’s because you don’t want to admit I’m in your head more than he ever will be.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” You snapped, your voice trembling with anger. “You’re nothing but a distraction, a-”

“Go on.” He interrupted, his voice low, his eyes gleaming with something almost dangerous. “Say it. A mistake? A regret? Is that why you keep coming back, doll? To fix it, or just to lose yourself in it?”

His words hit too close, cutting through your defenses in a way that made your chest tighten. You hated how easily he could read you, how effortlessly he picked apart the walls you tried so hard to keep in place. But you refused to let him win, refused to let him see how much his words affected you. You hated him.

“Maybe I’m here because I pity you.” You hissed coldly, lifting your chin in defiance. “Isn’t that why everyone keeps you around, Barty? Out of pity?”

For a moment, his smirk faltered, the sharpness in his eyes flickering into something unreadable. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that infuriating grin as he stepped even closer, his hands gripping your hips with a possessive force. “Careful, doll.” He mumbled, his voice soft but laced with warning. “You might just hurt my feelings.”

You rolled your eyes, but your breath hitched as his fingers slid up your sides, his touch tight with nerve. “You don’t have feelings, remember?” You shot back, but the bite in your words was weakened by the way your body reacted to his closeness.

“Maybe not,” He admitted with a low chuckle, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “But you seem to like me anyway. Guess we both have our vices.”

Before you could respond, his lips found yours again, silencing whatever retort you had ready. The kiss was more intense this time, fueled by the anger and frustration that always seemed to simmer between you. His hands tangled in your hair, his body pressing against yours in a way that made it impossible to think clearly.

It was a cycle, a maddening, relentless cycle. Fight, kiss, argue, repeat. You knew it was toxic, knew it couldn’t lead anywhere good. But in that moment, with Barty’s lips on yours and his hands holding you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

As the kiss deepened, the anger began to ebb away, replaced by a heat that you both refused to name. Barty’s hands tightened in your hair, his lips moving with an almost desperate energy that mirrored your own. But beneath the passion, there was something lingering, something raw that you couldn’t quite place.

And then he did it again.

“Bet he wished he could touch you like this,” Barty murmured against your lips, his voice low and taunting. His words sent a shiver through you- not from the tease, but from the edge in his tone. “Your precious Remus. Always so bloody polite, isn’t he?”

You froze, your hands stilling against his chest as the realization began to settle like a weight in your stomach. His words weren’t just meant to provoke you; there was something behind them, something that bordered on venom.

Pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, you searched his face for a hint of the usual smugness that accompanied his taunts. But instead, you found something different; something sharp and defensive, hidden beneath the surface. “Why do you keep bringing him up?” You asked quietly, your voice steadier than you expected.

Barty’s smirk faltered, just for a fraction of a second, before he masked it with a scoff. “What, can’t handle the truth?” He shot back, his tone casual, but his grip on your hips betrayed him. It was firmer now, certainly possessive.

You narrowed your eyes, the pieces clicking into place. “This isn’t about Remus, is it?” You whispered, your voice softening slightly. “This is about you.”

Barty’s expression hardened, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t flatter yourself,” the edge in his tone wavered. “I just think it’s funny. You play the good girl for him, but you come running to me when you want to feel something real.”

“That’s not it, and you know it.” You hissed, your words cutting through his defenses. “You’re jealous.”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy and undeniable. Barty’s jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with something that looked a lot like anger- but you could see through it now. It wasn’t anger. It was insecurity.

“You think I care about what some bleeding-heart Gryffindor thinks?” He sneered, but his voice cracked slightly, giving him away.

“I think you do,” You said, your voice steady now. “You hate that he’s not like you. That he doesn’t play games, that he’s kind. He's real. And you hate that I see that in him.”

Barty’s grip on you tightened, surely bruising, his breath hitching as you spoke. “Don’t.” He warned, but it was too late. You’d already struck a nerve.

“You’re scared.” You continued, your gaze locked with his. “Scared that he’s better than you. That maybe- he’s what I deserve.”

For a moment, you thought he might push you away, his usual bravado crumbling under the weight of your words. But instead, he surged forward, his lips crashing against yours with a ferocity that stole your breath. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a fight, a desperate attempt to reclaim control, to prove something to both of you.

When Barty finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his forehead resting against yours. But the vulnerability that had flickered in his expression for a split second was gone, replaced with sharp, cutting arrogance. His grip on your waist was still firm, bordering on bruising, as if he were daring you to push him away again.

“You think he’s better than me, don’t you?” Barty murmured, his voice low but laced with venom. “Remus bloody Lupin- he’s exactly the kind of boy your perfect family wants for you, isn’t he? Polite, patient, so painfully good.” His lips curled into a sneer, the mockery in his tone unmistakable. “Bet he’d even ask for daddy’s permission to kiss you.”

You flinched, your jaw tightening as the words hit their mark. “Don’t bring my family into this,” You hissed, your hands pushing against his chest, but he didn’t budge.

“Why not?” Barty pressed, his eyes gleaming with something almost wild. “This is what it’s all about, isn’t it? You sneaking around with me because I’m the opposite of what they want. Because I’m the dirty little secret you can’t bring home.”

“That’s not true.” You snapped, though your voice lacked conviction. Deep down, you hated that he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“No?” Barty’s smirk widened, his hands sliding up your sides with infuriating ease. “Face it, doll, Lupin’s everything they’ve trained you to want. He’s safe. Predictable. Boring.” He leaned closer, if he only knew- his lips brushing against your ear as his voice dropped to a whisper. “But that’s not what you want, is it?”

You turned your head sharply, forcing him to meet your glare. “You don’t know what I want.”

“Oh, I do,” He murmured, his thumb brushing against your jaw in a way that made your stomach churn. “You want the thrill. The danger. Someone who doesn’t care what James Potter or the rest of your Gryffindor crew thinks.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore how his words stung. “You think this is about rebellion?” Uou shot back, your voice trembling with both anger and frustration. “That I’m with you because I want to piss off my family?”

Barty tilted his head, his grin lazy and infuriating. “If the shoe fits.”

“Maybe I’m here because I see something in you no one else does.” You bit out, your voice sharper now. “But you’re too busy tearing yourself down to notice.”

For a moment, Barty faltered. His smirk wavered, and the confidence in his posture cracked just enough for you to see the insecurity underneath. But he recovered quickly, his walls slamming back into place as he gave a low, bitter laugh.

“Don’t waste your sympathy on me, princess,” He cooed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t need it. And I definitely don’t need saving.”

“I’m not trying to save you,” You sighed, your voice soft but firm. “But you keep pushing everyone away, and one day, you’ll push too hard.”

Barty’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he leaned in again. “And yet, here you are,” He murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “Still coming back for more.”

Your throat tightened, the anger in your chest swirling with something far more dangerous. His words cut, his arrogance infuriated you- but you couldn’t deny the pull between you. And Barty knew it.

“Admit it,” He said, his voice soft but unrelenting. “I’m the one who gets under your skin. Not Lupin. Not anyone else. Me.”

You stared at him for a moment, and you saw it. The slight gloss to his eyes- he was pushing himself. Past what you've ever thought you'd see from him. You closed your eyes and took a small steadying breath. “Yes, you idiot.” You spat. “It's you.”

Barty froze. The smirk he wore like a second skin faltered, his sharp retort catching somewhere in his throat. For a moment, he just stared at you, as if he hadn’t expected you to admit it- hadn’t expected you to say anything at all.

And neither had you.

The words hung between you, heavy and undeniable. You could feel the weight of them pressing down on your chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Barty didn’t have a comeback ready. His grip on your hips slackened, and his expression shifted, the arrogance slipping to reveal something far more raw.

“Say that again,” He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a challenge there, but beneath it, you heard the hesitation- the flicker of uncertainty he was trying so hard to hide.

You swallowed hard, your breath still unsteady as you met his gaze. “It’s you,” You repeated, quieter this time but no less firm. “You’re the one who gets under my skin. And I hate it.”

Something in his eyes darkened, a mix of triumph and something he didn’t quite know how to handle. His lips quirked up into a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You really know how to flatter a bloke, don’t you?” He drawled, though his voice was softer now, lacking its usual bite.

“Don’t,” You snapped, your frustration bubbling to the surface again. “Don’t twist this into some stupid game, Barty.”

“Isn’t it always a game?” He shot back, his smirk widening, though there was an edge to it now- one that betrayed just how deeply your words had cut. “You and me, sneaking around, pretending like it doesn’t mean anything. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

“No,” You said firmly, your hands gripping the front of his shirt to steady yourself- or maybe to keep him from pulling away. “That’s your point. It’s never been mine.”

He stared at you, his jaw tight, his breathing still heavy. For once, he seemed at a loss, his usual cocky bravado slipping as he tried to process what you’d just said. And for a moment, you thought he might pull away, retreat into the safety of his defenses. But instead, he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours.

“You drive me mad, you know that?” He muttered, his voice low and raw, lacking its usual teasing lilt.

“Good,” You huffed, your voice equally soft but no less sharp. “It’s mutual.”

A quiet laugh escaped him, almost disbelieving, and he shook his head slightly. “Why do you keep coming back, then?” He asked, his tone laced with something that sounded almost like desperation. “If you hate me so much?”

“Maybe because I hate that I don’t hate you,” You admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Maybe because you’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile.”

For a moment, the weight of your words hung heavy in the air. Barty’s expression wavered, and you thought- just for a second- that he might let the truth settle between you. That he might lean into it, lean into you, and let himself admit that he felt the same pull you did.

Barty stood completely still, his eyes searching yours, his defenses cracking just enough for something real to shine through. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the vulnerability vanished, his smirk snapping back into place like a mask he wore far too well.

“Don't-”

“Merlin.” He muttered, stepping back, running a hand through his hair in an exaggerated motion of mock exasperation. “You’re really determined to make this into some grand love story, aren’t you?”

“Barty,” You started, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice, but he was already shaking his head, the teasing glint in his eyes turning sharper, crueler. He sat up off of you, pulling out a cigarette, you followed him up.

“No, seriously,” He interrupted, his tone light and biting, the edge of mockery unmistakable. “What is it you want, huh? A confession? A bloody sonnet? Should I get down on one knee while I’m at it?”

“Stop it,” You said sharply, stepping forward, but he just leaned casually against the wall, his cigarette dangling from his lips as though nothing you said could touch him.

“Why? Isn’t this what you wanted?” He asked, spreading his arms wide with a grin that was far too sharp to be genuine. “I mean, you’ve got me cornered, haven’t you? Time for me to spill my tragic backstory and tell you how you’ve ‘changed’ me. Is that it? Does that get you off, doll?”

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you tried to keep your composure. “Why are you doing this?” You demanded, your voice trembling with frustration. “Why can’t you just be serious for once?”

“Oh, I am serious,” Barty said, his grin fading into something colder, more calculated. He straightened up, his posture lazy but his eyes sharp as they locked on yours. “I’m seriously wondering why you’re still here.”

The words hit you, a blow to the chest, but you refused to flinch. “You’re pushing me away,” you said, your voice quieter now, but no less steady. “That’s what this is. You’re scared, so you’re trying to scare me off first.”

“Scared?” Barty repeated, letting out a short, bitter laugh. “Of what? You? Don’t flatter yourself, doll.”

“Then what is this?” You demanded, your frustration boiling over. “Why can’t you just admit that this- us- means something to you?”

“Because it doesn’t,” He snapped, his tone ice-cold. He stepped closer, his smirk twisting into something cruel as he looked down at you. “You’re just a game, sweetheart. A fun little distraction. And now that the fun’s over…” He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over you with a deliberate slowness that made your stomach churn. “Unless, of course, you’ve got something else in mind.”

Your breath hitched, and your chest tightened. “You’re disgusting,” you said, your voice low but trembling with anger. “You really think I’d just-”

“What? Sleep with me?” Barty interrupted, his smirk widening as he leaned in closer. “Why not? That’s what this has always been about, hasn’t it? A bit of fun. A bit of danger. But if that’s not on the table…” He shrugged, stepping back and taking another drag from his cigarette. “Well, what’s the point?”

You stared at him, your chest heaving as you struggled to process the sheer cruelty of his words. “You don’t mean that,” You said quietly, but even as the words left your mouth, you could see the glint of triumph in his eyes.

“Don’t I?” He chuckled, exhaling a stream of smoke as he watched you with a detached amusement that made your stomach twist. ���Face it, doll. This was never about anything real. You’re just upset because I beat you to the punch.”

“The punch?” You echoed, your voice shaking with disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You were always going to leave,” He said simply, his tone casual, almost bored. “Run back to your safe little Gryffindor bubble the second this got too messy. I’m just saving us both the trouble.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. You hated how easily and effortlessly he could tear you down with just a few carefully chosen words. And worst of all, you hated how much you still cared, even now.

“You’re a coward,” You said finally, your voice low and steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “You hide behind this- this persona because you’re too scared to let anyone see the real you. But guess what, Barty? That’s not my problem anymore.”

You turned on your heel, heading for the door, but his voice stopped you just as your hand touched the handle.

“Go on, then,” He called, his tone light and mocking. “Run back to Lupin. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to play the hero.”

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. The tears spilled over as you yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind you, the sound echoing through the corridor as you stormed away.

Inside the room, Barty stood frozen, his smirk finally slipping away as the silence pressed in around him. He clenched his jaw, his hands trembling as he brought the cigarette back to his lips, inhaling deeply like it might dull the ache in his chest.

It didn’t. It never did.

[mephisto-reporting]

I Love You: Xavier Edition

Premise:

Trope: Pure fluff

Pairing:Reader x Xavier

Note: Reader and the men are NOT in a relationship. but there is implied mutual attraction. Let me know if you want to be a part of my taglist.

Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition

The arcade was alive with the buzz of flashing lights, the clinking of tokens, and the distant sounds of laughter. But amid it all, there was one corner that had captured your undivided attention—the claw machine, its glass casing glimmering under the neon lights. Inside, there was a star-shaped plushie that called out to you, its pastel colors so soft and inviting.

You had been staring at it for what felt like hours. It was the only one in the machine. The rest were a jumble of plushies that you’d often seen, all tangled up together, but that star—the delicate blue one—was taunting you, teasing you. You had to get it. You just had to.

Xavier, sitting beside you, was quiet, his usual neutral expression framing his handsome face. He was there, watching you, but in his own way, he was already at ease with the challenge. It was, after all, a game—a challenge that he had no personal stake in, yet still, he seemed to be quietly rooting for you. He’d watched you try and fail, try again, try and fail, without so much as a hint of judgment.

“Don’t worry, you’re doing fine,” Xavier murmured, his voice as steady as always, even as you reached for another token. “It’s just the machine. Sometimes it’s a bit tricky.”

You gave a small, frustrated nod, swiping your token through the machine once more. The claw descended. You watched, holding your breath. It hovered for a split second before dropping, only managing to nudge the star-shaped plushie slightly. It wasn’t enough. You let out a sigh, rubbing your temple as you slumped against the machine. “I almost had it,” you snapped, though the heat in your voice was mostly self-directed. Your cheeks flushed as you avoided his gaze. “It’s so close. I can feel it this time.”

His lips quirked upward in the faintest of smiles. “You’ve been saying that for an hour now.”

The plush mocked you from its cushy prison.

“I could try,” he offered, his tone as measured as ever. Despite his stoic nature, you knew him well enough to recognize the sincerity in his words. But you shook your head stubbornly. This was your mission, and you weren’t ready to hand over the controls.

By the end of the afternoon, with your token supply thoroughly drained, you stood in defeat.

“I can’t do it…” you muttered to yourself, more to the plushie than to anyone else.

Xavier shifted, his gaze softening for a brief moment as he rested his hand on your shoulder. “We’ll come back and try again, alright? Don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s just a game.”

You nodded, trying to take in his words, though a deep frustration simmered within you. The thought of leaving the arcade without that star was unbearable. You'd spent an entire afternoon here, clawing away at your pride—and at the machine—only to leave empty-handed. You sighed and nodded again, more out of exhaustion than agreement. “Yeah. Next time,” you mumbled.

He chuckled softly, the sound so rare it made your chest ache. “Next time.”

Over the next few days, "next time" became a mantra you repeated like a prayer. Each visit to the arcade brought you to the claw machine, where that elusive star plush continued to taunt you from behind its glass barrier. You tried different strategies, adjusted the angle, even debated superstitiously switching hands on the joystick, but nothing worked. Frustration coiled tight in your chest, each failed attempt chiseling away at your patience.

You tried and failed again and again, your movements growing more tense with each attempt. Xavier was always there beside you, offering his quiet encouragement, always calm, always kind. His presence was comforting, but it didn’t stop the frustration from boiling over within you.

This was getting ridiculous.

Today, though, was different. You had spent the entire day running around, trying to get everything done—work, errands, catching up with backlogs. Nothing seemed to go right. Everything you attempted today was just one disaster after the other. It was just one of those days where everything seemed to pile on top of you. You were tired. Tired of the relentless failures, tired of trying, tired of feeling like you were never going to win.

As you stood in front of the claw machine once more, your patience was at an all-time low. You stared at the star plushie and, without thinking, gave the machine a hard kick. It rattled with the impact, the claw shaking wildly for a moment, as if to mock you.

“Okay. Enough,” Xavier said, stepping between you and the machine. His hands rested gently on your shoulders, grounding you. His tone was calm, but there was a firmness to it that made you stop. “You’ll break the machine. Or your foot. Neither’s worth it.”

You turned away from the machine, a small tremor of frustration escaping through your clenched fists. “I just need a breath of fresh air,” you said, your voice low. You turned on your heel, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll be right back.”

You made your way outside, seeking refuge from the suffocating air inside. The cool night air hit your face, a momentary relief to the overload of emotions. The muffled din of the arcade buzzed faintly through the door behind you. You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air fill your lungs, the tension slowly ebbing away. You closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath. Everything had been overwhelming, and the plushie... Well, it was just a plushie, wasn’t it? You should’ve just let it go. But you couldn’t.

The sound of footsteps behind you drew your attention, and you turned your head slightly. Before you could fully look, something soft brushed your cheek.

“Here,” Xavier said simply.

Your eyes widened as you focused on what he was holding out to you—the star-shaped plushie. The star-shaped plushie.

He’d done it. Somehow, he’d actually gotten it.

“You—you got it!” you gasped, spinning around to face him fully. Your fingers reached out instinctively, grasping the plush and clutching it to your chest as if it might disappear. The soft fabric squished in your hands, a tangible proof of victory.

“It wasn’t that hard. Just took some... patience.”

“Xavier...” You gasped, your heart pounding as you reached out for it, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of the star-shaped plushie. You held it in your hands like it was a treasure.

His usual neutral expression was still there, but his eyes—those soft, blue eyes—seemed to hold something else. Something that made your heart skip.

A wave of pure joy surged through you, too overwhelming to contain. Before you could think, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. “I love you,” you blurted out, the words tumbling free without permission.

The air seemed to still for a moment. You felt Xavier stiffen slightly in your embrace. Then, his hands came up, steady and warm as they rested on your back.

“You… love me?” he echoed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. There was something uncharacteristically vulnerable in the way he said it, as though he were handling the words with care, afraid they might break.

Realization struck like lightning, and you froze, your face heating to a volcanic degree. You pulled back slightly, eyes wide, mouth already forming excuses, denials, anything to walk it back.

But before you could backtrack, Xavier moved toward you. His fingers gently cupped your face, his touch warm and tender, sending a shiver down your spine. His blue eyes—so steady, so calm—held yours with an intensity you hadn’t expected. For once, his usual neutral expression melted away, replaced by something warmer—something that made your heart race.

“I love you too,” he whispered.

The world seemed to pause in that moment. All the noise from the arcade, the frustrations, the disappointments—all of it fell away. There was only the warmth of his hand on your face, the softness in his eyes, and the quiet truth of his words.

You stood there, heart racing, breathless, unable to look away from him. The star plushie was still clutched tightly in your hand, but it felt insignificant compared to the moment unfolding before you. Xavier... Xavier loved you too.

His gaze softened further, and his voice, still calm, but now filled with something deeper, spoke again. “I never thought you’d say it first.”

You blinked, surprised by the admission. “You’ve been waiting for me?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I suppose I have.”

You couldn't help but smile back, the corners of your eyes crinkling with joy

For a moment, the whole world seemed to fall into place. The plushie, the arcade, the frustrations—it all faded into the background as Xavier’s gentle gaze remained fixed on you. The star in your hand felt like the most precious thing you’d ever held. But, in truth, it was Xavier himself, standing before you, that made everything feel like it was exactly where it was meant to be.

Xavier’s forehead rested gently against yours, his warm breath mingling with your own as the closeness made your pulse thunder in your ears. His arms slid more securely around you, drawing you nearer as though anchoring you both in this shared moment.

“Well,” he murmured, his voice a low hum that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, “I think I’ve had my fill of exercise today. That claw machine... definitely gave me a workout.”

A soft laugh bubbled from your lips, the tension of the day melting away entirely. “Exercise? You barely moved!” you teased, though your words carried no heat.

“Oh, it’s strenuous,” Xavier replied with mock seriousness, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. “Careful precision. Endless patience. Mental gymnastics to calculate the claw’s momentum. It’s a wonder I’m still standing.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him playfully.

“But I do know one thing.” His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer until there was barely an inch between you. “I’m ready to head back. To nap. With my favorite plushie.”

You blinked, looking down at the star plushie still clutched tightly in your hand. “Wait, your favorite plushie?” you teased, a smirk creeping onto your face. “Pretty sure I’ve earned this one after all the torment.”

His blue eyes glimmered with amusement as he leaned back just enough to study your expression. “Oh, I wasn’t talking about the star,” he said, his voice low, the corners of his lips quirking up in that maddeningly subtle way he had. “I meant you.”

Your face heated instantly, your grip on the plushie tightening as if it might save you from the sudden onslaught of butterflies in your stomach. “Xavier…” you managed to say, though it came out as little more than a breathless whisper.

“What?” he asked innocently, though the mischief in his gaze betrayed him. His arms remained snug around you, his embrace firm yet comforting. “You’re warm, you’re soft, and you fit perfectly in my arms. What else would I want for a nap?”

You let out a small sigh of defeat, though a smile played on your lips as you nodded against him. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

He rested his chin lightly atop your head, holding you as if the rest of the world could wait. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not letting go anytime soon.”

You didn’t know who moved first, but the next thing you knew, you were leaning into him again, your forehead resting against his. The star plushie was still clutched tightly in your hand, but it no longer felt like the most important prize you’d won that day.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition

Taglist: @cordidy

[unboundprompts]

I would really love some jealousy-fighting-turned-to-intense-kissing-love confession prompts 🫶

Jealous Fight Turned Love Confession

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

They stood inches apart, breathing hard, each word sharper than the last. “Why do you care so much who I’m with?” she demanded, her voice breaking despite her best effort to sound defiant. He clenched his jaw, looking anywhere but at her, but his fists trembled at his sides. “Because I can’t stand it,” he finally admitted, the words tearing out of him. She froze, shocked, her lips parted in surprise. In that heartbeat of silence, he looked up, his eyes blazing with all the things he’d tried to hide, and before either of them could think, he pulled her close, his lips crashing onto hers with a desperate intensity that left no room for doubt.

The argument was heated, his words dripping with jealousy as he accused her of being oblivious, of caring too much for others, of ignoring how he felt. She scoffed, rolling her eyes, but her voice cracked. “You think I don’t see? You think I don’t feel the same way?” She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her wrist, spinning her back toward him, their faces inches apart. Their breaths mingled, their anger still simmering, but he could see the flicker of longing in her gaze, the vulnerability she’d been hiding. With a growl, he closed the distance, capturing her lips with a fierceness that held years of repressed feelings, both of them melting into the intensity of the moment.

They were arguing so fiercely that they didn’t notice how close they’d moved, the frustration between them giving way to something else. “So you don’t care who I’m with, is that it?” he challenged, his voice thick with jealousy. Her lips quivered, torn between defiance and the truth she could no longer ignore. Before she could think, she grabbed his collar, yanking him down to her, their lips meeting in a kiss so fierce and raw that all their words disappeared, replaced by the electric charge between them. For a moment, everything they’d left unsaid found its way into that kiss, sealing a confession they could no longer deny.

The tension between them was unbearable, his eyes dark with barely-contained jealousy as he accused her of leading him on, of letting others get too close. She pushed him back, defiant, her voice trembling. “If you’d told me how you felt, maybe I wouldn’t have!” He stared at her, stunned, but in the next second, he was kissing her, his hands burying in her hair as though afraid she might slip away. Her resistance melted, her own hands clutching his shoulders, pulling him closer, their confessions mingling in the fierce press of their lips, each kiss saying everything words couldn’t.

Their voices echoed down the empty hallway, each accusation laced with jealousy and frustration. “Why does it even matter to you?” she shouted, but her heart pounded, daring him to give the answer she was so afraid to hope for. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, his eyes narrowing as he closed the distance. “Because I don’t want to see you with anyone else,” he ground out, and without waiting for her response, he captured her lips, his hands cupping her face as though this was the only way he could make her understand. She gasped against his mouth, her hands slipping around his neck as she kissed him back, each touch a promise neither of them could ignore anymore.

[awhhayden]

CONTAINS : age gap 20+, dilf!hayden, fluff, anxiety/panic attack, short story

SUMMARY : Hayden wakes up from a nightmare, his anxieties weighing down on your relationship.

Hayden stirs beside you, the peaceful rhythm of sleep abruptly shattered as he shoots upright, fear flickering across his features. A cold sweat glistens on his chest and neck, his breath coming in frantic gasps as another nightmare haunts his consciousness.

For the past week, the same chilling dream has plagued him, each one a manifestation of the simmering anxieties about your relationship. With you just stepping into your 23rd year and him carrying the weight of 43, the whispers of the world loom large, as if the media’s scrutiny could unravel the delicate threads of what you both share.

Each day, he finds himself on high alert, bracing for the latest wave of cruel commentary about your love—the love that defies conventional norms but thrives in its authenticity. Hayden positions himself as a shield between you and the relentless barrage of judgment, yet deep down, he knows the sting of those words reaches you, drawing a painful line back to him.

Guilt tugs at his heart, knowing that these dark reflections are a consequence of his existence in your life, and he longs for a way to silence the storm that rages endlessly in his mind.

He turns and gazes at you, a soft contrast to the panic in his chest. Your hair spills like silk across the pillow, catching the soft glow of the moonlight that dances through the window. Each rise and fall of your chest is a tender symphony, a rhythm that lulls him into a deeper calm.

With a gentle smile, he lays back on his side and wraps his strong arm around your waist, pulling you closer into his warmth. The sweet scent of your strawberry shampoo envelops him, a fragrant reminder that you are all he needs.

You stir slightly, your voice a soft murmur in the quiet of the room. "Mmm, you okay?" Your eyes flutter open just enough to glimpse the worry etched on his face, and he smiles, leaning into the fragrant softness of your hair. "Now I am," he whispers, his words a soft caress that fills the space between you with a warm intimacy, as if the world outside has faded away, leaving only the two of you as his anxieties melt away into oblivion.

He feels the heat radiating from your body and leans in closer, letting the moment deepen. The room is filled with a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the soft sound of your breathing. With each breath, he finds himself more anchored in the present, savoring this shared moment of peace that feels both timeless and sacred.

"Do you remember the first time we slept like this?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He recalls that night, when the stars overhead seemed to twinkle just for you two, a new chapter just unfolding.

You chuckle softly, eyes still heavy with sleep. "I think you were the one who ended up stealing all the blankets," you tease, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

He smirks, nudging you playfully. "Guilty as charged." A moment of laughter passes between you, a thread of shared memories that wraps around you in warmth. Beneath that playful exchange, a deeper truth lingers in the air—an unspoken understanding of each other, grounded in genuine affection.

You shift slightly, nestling into his embrace, and he tightens his hold instinctively, as if afraid to let go. The soft rhythm of your breaths intertwining sets a peaceful cadence. “What are you thinking about?” you ask, curiosity sparking your gaze as you finally meet his eyes.

He hesitates for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah, it’s just…” He takes a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. “Sometimes I worry about the age gap between us. I mean, I know it’s not the worst difference, but still…” You frown slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow, giving him your full attention. “What do you mean?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, his gaze drifting toward the moonlight spilling through the window. “With me being in the public eye, everyone seems to have an opinion about everything. I can imagine the headlines, the gossip… it worries me. I don’t want to be that guy who’s dating someone significantly younger. I don’t want it to look like I’m… I don’t know, taking advantage of that.”

Your heart sinks a little at his unease, seeing the vulnerability etched in his features. “You’re not taking advantage of anything. We’re not like that. We have something real here.”

“I know that,” he replies, looking back into your eyes with sincerity. “But the media spins things. I've seen it happen to friends, people in the industry facing scrutiny just for their choices in relationships. I don’t want to subject you to that kind of negativity. You don’t deserve it.”

“You can’t control how others see us,” you say gently, brushing your fingers across his cheek. “What matters is how we see each other. You mean the world to me, and I don’t care about the age gap or what people think.”

He listens, but the concern doesn’t entirely vanish from his eyes. “You say that now, but what if it becomes a burden in the future? What if the attention—both good and bad—pulls us apart instead of bringing us closer?”

“If it’s meant to be, we’ll find a way to make it work,” you reply, your voice steady and unwavering. “And if we do hit bumps along the way, we’ll face them together. Love isn’t about age or public perception; it’s about trust, respect, and the connection we’ve built.”

He smiles softly at your words, grateful yet still clouded by his worries. “You make it sound so simple. I just don’t want to risk losing what we have because of outside noise.”

You take a moment, gathering your thoughts, before responding. “I’m not naive. I know the world can be harsh. But I also believe that if we’re strong in our bond, we can withstand anything. Our relationship doesn’t have to be defined by the age gap—or by the spotlight you’re in.”

He studies you intently, his brows slightly relaxed as he absorbs your words. “You really believe that?” He probes, searching your face for reassurance.

“I do,” you affirm, leaning closer, grounding him with your presence. “Each day with you just feels right. It’s not about the years; it’s about how well we fit together and how we support each other”

A soft chuckle escapes him, his tension easing slightly. “In all my life, I’ve never met someone quite like you,” he admits. “You’re a breath of fresh air, you keep me young” he jokes.

You smile at that, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you. “I’m glad I can be someone who brings you comfort. Just remember, I want this, I want you” you say softly. He reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he gives a light squeeze. “Thank you for being you. For standing by me. I just want to protect what we have.”

“Then let’s protect it together,” you say, resolute. “I love you” you whisper, he smiles

As you settle back into his embrace, the weight of his worries lingers in the air but feels lighter now, softened by the understanding between you. Together, you drift into a shared silence, sleep finally weighing down on Hayden’s eyes, you fall back asleep together, a newfound understanding and the sound of the wind in the air.

a little story while I work on a chapter two of my james kelly fic! also still adding to my taglist so lmk if you want to be added! <3

taglist : @bimbo-baggins17 @malinadbbdh @speaknow-sw @haydensheartt @inlovewithdob

[rainybraindays]

To be loved is to be changed (derogatory)

[ratatatastic]

"Can I say something real quick though? I was worried a little bit on both of you guys going to the plate and throwing out the first pitch... 'cuz I evaluate that and a lot of people do too. And you've seen some guys that just—they don't know how to throw a ball!" "Yeah." "And they're unbelievable athletes and they don't know how to throw a ball! You guys both did the same time, you did a good job on that! But I was kind-of worried." "So I actually threw out the first pitch in Miami two years ago and I hurt—it was right after I was traded. And I had a shoulder injury, like, during the year before and first, like—we're athletes. Hockey players are great athletes! But very rarely are you, like, going out there and throwing the ball like you were with pops when you're, like, 5 years old! You don't do that anymore! So I had a shoulder injury and I'm like, 'I'm an athlete, right? Like I'll just go up to the mound and just chuck one in there, you know put a little sauce on it, whatever.' I tried to throw a little, like, oomph into it and, like, I didn't even get it to the plate from the mound! Like it's—when you don't practise and it's the first time throwing a ball, like, it was a hundred—" "Where was that?" "It was in Miami!" "Were you getting chirped?" "No, I wasn't getting chirped!" "At the Marlin's game? Nobody was there!" "It was—it was—" "No one was there, nobody saw it! It's not—" "No, I wasn't getting chirped! It was—" "You can tell everyone that it was a strike right down the middle!" "No! Somebody saw that! Some of the guys saw that and were probably like, 'Errgh...'" "It was—Yeah, whatever! But, you know, who cares! But I actually before the St. Louis one... I didn't know the setup if I was gonna be from the mound or not but I will admit that in the morning I went out in the backyard and just, like, threw 5—" "Oh, you have to!" "—just to loosen up. I'm way healthier than I was two years ago but it was just like, you know—it was fun! It was a great day!" "Did they—" "When your shoulder gets messed up though, man..." "I can't imagine these pitchers that throw so much in a year. Like they gotta be—I have a lot of respect for them. I used to be like, 'I pitch one every five days if you're a starter like whate—' If you're chucking in one hundred pitches and all your warmup and stuff like that's a tough supposed to do that—" "I don't think your shoulder is supposed to do that..." "No! And they snap it in there! Very impressive! And—" "That's why they get paid a lot of coin~ Dude, let's go 250 schmillions—" "I was gonna say that's why—yeah. Good for them!" "I know you do pretty well—" "It was cool seeing Ohtani hit a home run!* I think he's awesome! And driving around in the car before with Jayson [Tatum] like—that Ohtani's a big man."

Cam & Strick Podcast | 8.27.24 (x)(x)(x)

*funny that matthew mentions that he thought it was cool to see an ohtani moonshot irl the cardinals telecast was actually zoomed in on him in the stands before it happened so they had to cut from him to shohei trotting around the bases so its nice to know he enjoyed the sho as much as we all do XD

[redrobin-detective]

Iruma-kun, the Six Fingers and Humanity

I have been mulling over this idea for days as I devoured the Iruma-kun anime then manga and am still struggling to articulate it. The best I can boil down to is the whole goal of the Six Fingers and the return to origins is, unbeknownst to them, a desire to become more human.

I can understand, in a way, their frustration. Demons used to be merciless killers, where the strong surpassed the weak and magic, aggression and power won the day. Now we see they have idol concerts and theme parks and silly games to help demons safely purge their “wickedness” which is, in reality just another part of their nature. The majority of modern day demons deny a large part of themselves. The whole idea of a wicked cycle is endlessly fascinating to me, like this species has compartmentalized themselves so much that their pent up darker impulses periodically spring out and require them to be handled gently or hidden away. I can see how this practice is insulting and incredibly restrictive of what a demon is.

Now, right from the start, Iruma has stood out in the demon world for a few reasons. First and most obviously, he lacks any practical or cultural knowledge of demonic society. We see Iruma ignorantly stride past social norms and boundaries he didn’t even know existed. If it weren’t for his upbeat, people pleasing attitude he’d be written off as a delinquent but instead he helps foster an environment of change in a bunch of slackers and misguided students. And change is a radical concept in a society that hasn’t replaced the demon king in centuries since the old one disappeared. The effect of Iruma’s very presence, his enthusiasm and attitude and cooperative abilities can be seen so strongly on the Misfit class that its no wonder he’s become such a stand out student.

So I had heard of Irumean when I first started the series and had high expectations of him being a full on bastard. And he simply wasn’t. He was arrogant, reckless, rude at the worst but even those around him commented that his innate, unnatural kindness was still there. I argue because Irumean was never a true wicked cycle. It was Ali-san’s attempt to induce a demonic ritual onto him. But humans aren’t like demons, Iruma is a good, kind, patient boy due to his trauma and strength of character. At any point he could lash out in the most horrific fashion and leave everyone stunned because he is not bound such such strict rules of personality and conduct. His humanity is as much a strength as it is a weakness.

So according to recent chapters, Iruma has traces of Delkira’s energy. My first thought was that it was emanating from Ali-san, which is a distinct possibility but why was the ring attracted to Iruma in the first place? My next theory is that Delkira had some connection to humans as well. Either he’s a hafling or a demonized human or spent a significant amount of time in the human world. Either way, this human perspective is what made him so powerful, such an irreplaceable leader that his throne has remained empty for so long. One could even argue that the energy that the Six Fingers identify as ‘Delkira’ is actually just ‘human’ since the King’s energy is familiar while a human’s is not.

My whole round about point I’m doing a very poor job of explaining essentially boils down to, demons want to return to their origins to have more control over their baser instincts. Instincts and free will that humans, such as Iruma, possess naturally. But while Iruma has the capability for great evil, unrestrained by a set cycle, he also has such an overflowing well of love in him. Delkira, what little we’ve seen of him comes across as brash, fickle and cruel. You may note those are human traits as well. But Iruma also leads with kindness, dedication and teamwork. He will make a marvelous King because the humanity he brings to the table will help all of demonkind.

I do believe as the manga progresses we will see Iruma’s humanity become a  game changer in the battle against the Six Fingers. How he sees the world (both human and demon), how he interacts and inspires others, how he fights. Reaching a point where not only does Iruma stand up for himself but he is forced to cause harm (and by consequence addressing his people pleasing trauma) and behave in a manner not seen by demons outside of their wicked cycle. When he does, years down the road, become King, I believe he will address the concerns of factions like the Six Fingers. Demons are not meant to be fully contained but cannot be allowed to run rampant. With his feet in both worlds, I believe he will be able to balance both opposing views and ‘heal’ the underworld as the prophecy states. Not just from the instability of the Six Fingers but from this bizarre evolutionary cycle demons have fallen into over the centuries.

[heireign]

WHAT TAROT CARD ARE YOU ?

JUSTICE — what would you do to ensure justice? you know full well i don’t speak of lofty ideals and courts and magistrates, dearest. what would you do to those that hurt you? if I dropped them in your lap, what would you do? what kind of pain could you possibly inflict upon them? you are right to do so. you are right to want to do so. ignore the screaming, dearest, you are the hand of justice now, and they hurt you. do not look too closely at their faces, dearest. you are within your rights. you spell out your own rights, now. are you happy about it? are you certain that this is the right person you hold by the hair? does your anger hurt less now?

tagged by: @nonpareil

tagging: @lenfear , @wulfmaed , @oflorien , @belayadeath , @sanctamater , @lcerys , and @zalarys

[dailykugisaki]

Day 124 | id in alt

A little bit of a rematch and my opinion on why you never see Mai's six(seven) shooter again.

Read from left to right.

[slumbering-shadows]

Personally I think the appeal of the Folk Of The Air series (or the cruel prince, whichever you call it) is that the protagonist is just straight up fucked up. Like she's not as outwardly bastardly as darling Kaz Brekker (another groundbreaking protagonist, imo) but Jude Duarte is 12 shades of Horrible and she is mostly unapologetic about it. She's like 17 years old and has a shockingly high body count. She stole a whole ass kingdom. She almost murdered her own sister over a boy. She poisons herself willingly. She watched her parents die in front of her and is more upset that the man who killed them won't take her seriously than the fact that HE KILLED HER PARENTS IN FRONT OF HER. (daaaad you just don't UNDERSTAND). She spent her whole life learning how to read between the lines to avoid shitty faerie bargains and misses a super obvious one because she thinks her boyfriend (husband??) just dumped her so she watches Yuri On Ice with a pint of Ice cream and cries about it. She beat the shit out of a cannibalistic ex General with a rusty metal pipe with such ferocity that said cannibal became one of her most trusted advisors. Everything she does is deeply fucked up and cool and also reeks of the rage that somehow builds up when you are, tragically, a like 17 year old girl. Her twin sister is supposedly so much more calm and collected and well adjusted until one day she shows up in tears like "help I killed my husband that you hate" just straight up stabbed him one day. Because she is also suffering from being a like 17 year old girl. It's so funny. I love these books.

[newtafterdark]

"Hey Newt - how are you feeling after watching "Netflix One Piece"?"

[cakepoppresent]

You'll be iight 2

Luna pushes everyone to make room for Vaghun as he takes his seat. Veronica gives one last look at Vaguhn before heading downstairs. The remaining members stare straight at Vaughn, excited to hear everything about this new relationship. (Not Malcolm tho he is disgusted)

Vaughn: You guys look very excited you can ask me anything I'm an open book

Malcolm: How about you start by explaining wtf you want with Veroinca you long-limbed loser!

Vaughn: Wow did Veronica teach you that?

Malcolm: Answer the question!

Vaughn: I want to be with Veronica

"I grew up around women like Veronica so it's more that I'm used to it. One time we were out and I got close to her face and tried to be romantic. Instead of going with the moment, she told me my breath stinks and I need a breath mint. I've never experienced that in my life"

Everyone barks out in laughter at the thought of Vaghun being shut down like that. Of course, Veronica would say that she has no flitter

Grayson: I'm so sorry but that is so fucking funny

Sams: That definitely sounds like her

Luna: Jesus, that's brutal

Malcolm enjoyed that little tidbit at least Veronica stays humbling this long loser.

Luna: I'm sure she's said some worse things to you.

Vaghun: She has, but that's what draws me to her. She is funny, honest and kind in her own sorta way. She's everything.

Grayson: Still! That is so funny.

Vaughn: I'm happy to share more stories of Veronica. She's very cute when she wants to be

Luna: I'm happy you guys get along so well. Not many men are interested in her attitude

Vaughn: I can assure you it's not a problem for me

The group continues to talk among themselves sharing stories of Veronica's instances of complete disrespect to people she has no interest in. Finally, Malcolm is over the night and decides to leave right as Benji arrives "I'll be watching you. You better not do anything stupid"

Vaughn: No worries Malcolm. You can watch all you want

Malcolm: I will! the moment you slip up and hurt Veronica I'll be right there to beat your ass!

Vaughn: Well it's a good thing I don't plan on hurting Veronica.

Malcolm: Whatever, let go Benji I'm tired

Benji: See you around Vaghun

Veronica is still outta sight. Vaghun finally finds her downstairs playing around on her phone "You really left me to fend for myself"

Veronica: Looks like you came out unscathed

Vaughn: I thought Malcolm was going to eat me alive

Veronica: He'll be okay

Vaughn: So did I pass?

Veronica: This wasn't a test you loser

Vaughn: Hmm...I still think I passed

Veronica: Whatever you weirdo"

Previous - Next

[meatriarch]

one of my random favorite little tidbits abt coldcase/nosy au ch2 era is knowing that johnny taught maria over those near 20 years how to use his hunting rifle and i just think its at least a Little Scary a Little Heartbreaking to imagine re-meeting your sunshine friend who you've believed to be Dead for Years at that point, realizing that holy shit shes alive, but then getting a warning shot at your feet from one of the windows / balconies / etc bc its now Her Home Too theyre trespassing on and shes got a family to keep safe and for all she knows, and by the looks of things, theyre a Threat-

.