#when that's Not What's Actually Happening irritates me

[stnkiconverse]

HI ITS YOUR GIRL SWANONNN

im interested in sum....enemies to lovers.... with toby....

-🦢

Enemies to Lovers - Ticci Toby x Proxy!Reader

- You and Toby are oil and water from the start. His sharp tongue and impulsiveness immediately put you on edge, while your no-nonsense attitude only fuels his irritation.

- He has a knack for throwing off your focus, his muttered sarcasm or outright refusal to collaborate during missions always sends your blood boiling.

- "For someone who talks so b-big, you're pretty bad at k-keeping up," he'd mock after outrunning you in the field.

- "And for someone who's so 'skilled’ you sure love making my job harder," you'd shoot back.

- The tension comes to a head during a high-stakes mission.
His recklessness forces you to cover for him, leaving you both bruised and pissed.

- You corner him afterward, chest heaving as you shout, "Do you even care that you almost got us both killed?!"

- Toby's jaw tightens, his usual smirk absent. "I didn't a-ask you to save me." His words sting, but his tone is more defensive than combative, like you've hit a nerve.

- After that mission, something shifts. You start noticing things about him you hadn't before, how his hands shake when he's still for too long or the way he fiddles with a small, battered notebook when he thinks no one's watching.

- One night, you find him sitting alone on the porch, hood pulled low as he stares at the stars.

- Instead of walking past, you sit down beside him. He doesn't look at you, but he doesn't move away either.

- "W-why do you care so m-much?" he asks quietly after a long silence.

- The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard.

- Slowly, the hostility between you softens. Toby starts listening to you during missions (mostly 🥲), and you stop snapping at him over every little thing.

- He begins showing up in your space more often, dropping little jokes or leaning against the wall as if daring you to tell him to leave.

- You catch him sketching once, his natepad open to a rough but surprisingly detailed drawing of a bird. He notices you staring and slams it shut, cheeks flushing slightly. "W-what? Never seen someone d-draw before?"

- During another dangerous encounter, you get hurt protecting him. For once, Toby doesn't crack a joke or brush it off. Instead, he's frantic, hands clumsy as he tries to stop the bleeding.

- "Why the hell w-would you do t-that?" he demands, voice shaking. You can't tell if he's angry or scared.

- "Because l'm not going to let you get yourself killed," you reply, and for a moment, he just stares at you, something unreadable in his expression.

- After that, Toby becomes noticeably more protective. He doesn't say anything outright, but he's always nearby, watching your back during missions and lingering a little longer in your shared spaces.

- The teasing doesn't stop, but it changes, less biting, more playful. He starts calling you nicknames that are just annoying enough to make you roll your eyes but secretly make your chest tighten.

- One rainy evening, he invites you to sit with him on the porch.

- "Y-you're quieter than I thought you'd b-be," he says after a while, the corners of his lips twitching up in a small smile.

- It's not a grand, all-out moment, Toby isn't that kind of guy.

- Instead, it happens during a quiet night in the aftermath of another mission.

- "You kn-know," he says, not meeting your eyes as he fidgets with a loose thread on his sleeve, "y-you're not as bad as I th-thought."

- You laugh. "High praise coming from you."

- He finally looks at you, his expression unusually serious. "I mean it. You... you make all this c-crap a little easier to d-deal with."

- The kiss that follows is skeptical at first, as if neither of you can believe it's actually happening.

- But when he pulls back, there's a fondness in his eyes that makes your heart ache.

- Toby doesn't change totally, he's still brash, sarcastic, and occasionally infuriating.

- But he's also fiercely loyal, sticking close to you and showing his care in subtle ways, like leaving snacks outside your door or quietly patching you up after missions.

- "G-guess you're stuck with m-me now," he says one day, his smirk as annoying as ever.

- But the way he squeezes your hand tells you he means it in a way he doesn't know how to put into words.

SWANON IM SO SORRY FOR MAKING U WAIT THIS LONG😔😔

[heartsriki]

SYMPHONY OF US ⌇음악

FLIRT ALERT! series⌇Park Jongseong | Next

pairing ᝰ jay x fem!reader — word count: 4.6k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ college au!, friends to lovers, mutual pining, bantering, song composer x guitarist, fluff, kissing.

synopsis — As music majors in college, You and Jay have always been seatmates in class—passing notes, sharing playlists, and teasing each other between lectures. But when you get paired for the annual Valentine’s Open Mic Night, your usual banter turns into long practice sessions, late-night coffee runs, and a song that sounds a little too much like a love confession.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊Hey Ermmuhh I couldn’t sleep so I cooked this one up and I actually like it. Guys I would do anything for guitar Jay, whos with me.. raise your hand..

The first time you ever sat next to Jay, it wasn’t by choice.

The lecture hall had been packed, students filing into seats with that first-week energy—half of them eager, the other half exhausted. You had arrived late, the only open seat left beside a guy in a coat, his foot tapping lightly against the floor in a steady rhythm.

“Bad day?” he had asked as you slumped into the seat.

You had barely looked at him before muttering, “Bad parking.”

That had made him chuckle. “Yeah, parking’s a nightmare.” Then, as if he could sense your irritation, he slid a packet of sheet music onto your desk. “Here. Since you missed the first part.”

That was the beginning of it.

For the rest of the year, Jay remained your unofficial seatmate. You didn’t plan it—it just happened. Every class, every semester, no matter the time or the professor, there was an unspoken agreement that you would end up beside each other. He passed you scribbled jokes in the margins of his notes, you stole his guitar picks, and somehow, you two had developed a routine that made even the dullest lectures bearable.

So when the Professor announced that the Valentine’s Open Mic Night would be a graded project this year, it wasn’t a surprise when he paired you and Jay together. What was surprising was the flicker of hesitation on Jay’s face when your names were called.

“You good?” you asked as you packed your things after class.

Jay blinked, snapping out of whatever thought had been on his mind. “Yeah. Just… never done a duet before.”

You raised a brow. “You literally performed at the Winter Recital last semester.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

He adjusted the strap of his bag, glancing down at his shoes before flashing you a lopsided grin. “I didn’t have to sing with you.”

You rolled your eyes, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Relax, I’ll try not to make you sound bad.”

And that was it. That was how your simple routine with Jay turned into something a little bit more.

You would think that after almost a year of sitting next to each other, sharing notes, and teasing back and forth, you two would have naturally grown closer. But there had always been a boundary—an invisible line neither of you dared to cross. You weren’t sure if it was because of the way Jay always seemed so effortlessly cool, or because you had convinced yourself that your dynamic worked best when there were no expectations beyond the classroom.

But something about today felt different.

As he turned to leave, you blurted out, “Would you like to get some coffee?!”

Jay froze mid-step at your sudden outburst, then turned slowly to meet your gaze. The smirk that curled at his lips sent a flicker of heat to your face.

“You asking me out?”

Your entire body stiffened. “No! No,” you rushed to say, waving your hands frantically. “I mean—for our music piece. Y’know? So we can brainstorm or whatever.”

Jay tilted his head, pretending to consider it, even though you could tell he was enjoying your flustered reaction way too much. After a beat, he shrugged. “Alright. Lead the way.”

Fifteen minutes later, you were sitting across from him in a small café just off campus, a half-empty coffee cup between your hands. The place was cozy, the hum of conversation mixing with the soft jazz playing overhead.

Jay had abandoned his coat, rolling up the sleeves of his long sleeved shirt as he leaned back in his chair, watching you with mild amusement. “You’re overthinking it.”

You frowned. “What? No, I’m not.”

“You totally are,” he said, tapping a finger against your notebook. “Look at this. You’ve got three different song structures written down, but you haven’t committed to any of them.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. “Because I don’t know what works best. I mean, do we go for something upbeat? Or do we lean into the whole Valentine’s theme and make it, like… disgustingly romantic?”

Jay huffed a laugh, picking up his coffee. “You sound like love songs personally offend you.”

“They do when they’re forced,” you muttered, tapping your pen against the table. “I just don’t want it to sound fake, y’know?”

Jay was quiet for a moment, watching you carefully. Then he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “So let’s not make it fake.”

You blinked. “What?”

He nudged your notebook toward you. “Let’s write something real. Doesn’t have to be some cheesy love song. Just something that actually means something to us.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. For all the teasing and banter, Jay had a way of slipping in these unexpectedly earnest moments that made you pause.

You exhaled slowly, nodding. “Alright. Something real.”

“Good.” He grinned. “And if it just so happens to be a love song, well…” He shot you a teasing look. “Guess that says something about us, huh?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes. “Don’t make stupid jokes.”

Jay just laughed, but even as you refocused on your notes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, things were changing between you two.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, the low hum of the cafe filling in the gaps as you both stared at your notebooks. Every so often, Jay would absentmindedly tap his fingers against the table, a steady rhythm that somehow made it easier for you to think.

You glanced up at him. “So, what’s something real to you?”

Jay’s fingers paused mid-tap. He looked at you, eyebrows raising slightly, as if he hadn’t expected you to actually ask. Then, after a moment, he shrugged. “Music, obviously. Late-night drives. My guitars. Oh, and good coffee.” He lifted his cup in emphasis before taking a sip.

You hummed, jotting down a few words in your notebook. “Alright, so we’re writing a love song about caffeine addiction.”

Jay chuckled. “That’s what you got from that?”

“You said ‘good coffee.’ That’s passion.”

He rolled his eyes but leaned forward, glancing at your notebook. “Okay, your turn. What’s something real to you?”

You hesitated, tapping your pen against the page. It was a simple question, but answering it felt more intimate than you had expected.

“Uh… sunrises,” you said finally. “When you’ve been up all night, and everything’s quiet for a few minutes before the world wakes up. That first breath of cold air in the morning. And…” You trailed off, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

Jay tilted his head, waiting. “And?”

You exhaled, deciding to just go for it. “That feeling when you’re playing music, writing it, and for a second, it’s like… everything just clicks.”

Jay was quiet. When you looked up, he wasn’t smirking or teasing. He was just watching you, something unreadable in his expression.

“Yeah,” he said, voice softer now. “I get that.”

Something shifted then—an unspoken understanding settling between you.

Jay reached for his guitar case beside his chair, flipping open the latches. “Alright,” he said, adjusting the strap over his shoulder. “Let’s see what we’ve got so far.”

You bit your lip, flipping through your notes. “I mean, we don’t have much yet, but…”

Jay started strumming, a simple, easy melody filling the space between you. You listened, letting the rhythm settle in before you hesitantly hummed a melody over it.

Jay’s lips curled into a smile. “That works. Keep going.”

And just like that, the song started to take shape.

Hours later, you were still at the café, empty cups pushed to the side as you sat next to Jay in the booth, your notebooks a mess of scribbled lyrics and crossed-out ideas.

“Alright, what about this?” Jay said, adjusting his guitar. He played a soft progression, nodding toward you. “Try it with the lyrics we just fixed.”

You took a breath and sang the first few lines, the words tentative but starting to feel more natural the more you repeated them. Jay watched you as you sang, his eyes focused—not in the way he usually looked at you when he was about to tease you, but in a way that made something in your chest tighten.

When you finished, he nodded slowly. “That was good.”

You laughed lightly, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah?”

Jay’s grin returned, but there was something gentler about it this time. “Yeah. We still have a lot to work on but.. its good.”

You glanced at the clock, realizing how late it had gotten. “We should probably head back before they kick us out.”

Jay sighed dramatically, strumming one last chord before setting his guitar aside. “Fine. But only because I don’t want them banning me from my favorite cafe.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you started packing up your things. As the two of you stepped outside, the cold night air bit at your skin, and you shivered. Before you could react, Jay wordlessly shrugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders.

You blinked at him. “Jay—”

“Don’t start,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You looked cold.”

Your heart did a stupid little flip, but you quickly masked it with a playful smirk. “This is just an excuse to save your seat tomorrow isn’t it?”

Jay shot you a playful hurt look. “Wow, you think so little of me.”

You laughed, hugging his coat closer around you as the two of you walked back toward campus, the melody of your half-written song still lingering in the air.

The next few days fell into an easy rhythm—class, study sessions, and sneaking into the music room whenever it was free. You and Jay spent more time together than ever, working through melodies, tweaking lyrics, and getting lost in conversations that had nothing to do with the song at all.

And somehow, somewhere between all of that, the line between “just seatmates” and something more started to blur.

“Okay, one more run-through,” Jay said, adjusting the tuning pegs on his guitar.

You groaned, leaning your head back against the piano bench. “Jay, we’ve done like… twelve run-throughs.”

He shot you a look. “And yet you still mess up the second verse.”

“Hey!” You sat up, pointing at him accusingly. “I wouldn’t mess it up if you didn’t look at me like that.”

Jay smirked. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying not to laugh every time I hit the high note.”

“I am trying not to laugh,” he admitted, eyes twinkling. “Not because of your singing—your singing’s great. It’s just…” He paused, grinning. “You scrunch up your nose when you go for high notes. It’s cute.”

Your breath hitched for a second.

Jay must��ve realized what he said, because his fingers fumbled over the guitar strings. He cleared his throat, suddenly focused on his instrument.

You stared at him, the warmth creeping up your neck completely unrelated to the heated room. Instead of responding, you exhaled and picked up your lyrics sheet. “One more run-through,” you mumbled.

Jay glanced at you, lips twitching. “One more.”

By now, late-night practice had become routine. But this was the first time you’d ended up at Jay’s apartment.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, tossing his keys onto the counter.

You glanced around, taking in the space. It was exactly what you expected—minimalist, with music posters and a guitar stand in the corner. A few records were stacked near a player, and his desk was cluttered with sheet music and unfinished compositions.

“You live like an actual musician,” you mused, running a finger over a worn-out lyric book on his desk.

Jay snorted. “I thought I gave off business major energy.”

You rolled your eyes, but your gaze landed on the couch, where a soft-looking blanket was draped over the armrest. You raised an eyebrow. “You keep a blanket on your couch?”

Jay glanced over and shrugged. “Yeah?”

You smirked. “Didn’t take you for a cozy guy.”

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I have layers.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you settled onto the couch. Jay sat beside you, guitar in hand. The song was almost finished now, just a few refinements left before the performance.

“You wanna run through it again?” you asked, pulling your knees up.

Jay nodded, but he hesitated, fingers hovering over the strings. When you looked at him, he wasn’t smirking or teasing like usual. There was something thoughtful in his gaze, something… uncertain.

Jay’s fingers moved over the guitar strings effortlessly, the melody filling the space between you. Your voice wove through it, soft but steady, carrying the lyrics you’d both spent hours perfecting.

But tonight—tonight, the song felt different.

It wasn’t just words on a page anymore. It wasn’t just an assignment. It was something heavier, something unspoken. Something neither of you dared to name.

When the last note faded, silence settled between you.

Jay exhaled, setting his guitar aside. “That was…” He trailed off, as if searching for the right words.

You nodded slowly, barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

Neither of you moved.

You were still sitting cross-legged on the couch, his blanket draped loosely over your shoulders. Jay was beside you, leaning against the cushions, his arm resting on the back of the couch. Close. Closer than before.

The tension hung thick in the air, pressing against your skin.

Jay’s gaze flickered to your lips for half a second—so quick you might’ve imagined it. But then his fingers twitched against his knee, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

And suddenly, you knew.

You knew that if you leaned in, if you closed the space between you, something would happen.

Your pulse pounded.

Jay shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours. He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t teasing—just watching you, waiting, like he was caught in the same pull that had tightened around your chest.

Your breath hitched.

Jay tilted his head just a little, like he was debating something. Like he was giving you the chance to stop this before it went somewhere neither of you could take back.

Your heart was a drumline in your chest.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the blanket.

You should move. Say something. Anything.

But you didn’t.

Instead, your gaze dropped—just briefly—to his lips. And that was all it took.

Jay leaned in.

Your breath tangled with his, warmth ghosting over your skin. Your lashes fluttered. He was close enough now that you could see the night shine in his dark eyes, close enough that you could feel the slight hitch in his breathing.

A fraction of an inch. That’s all that was left.

Then—

BZZZT.

Jay jerked back, exhaling sharply as his phone vibrated against the coffee table.

The hypnotic spell shattered.

You blinked, heart still hammering, trying to process what almost just happened.

Jay cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh. I should… probably check that.” His voice was slightly hoarse.

You nodded stiffly, gripping the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah, go ahead.”

Jay reached for his phone, glancing at the screen. “It’s my friend Jungwon,” he muttered, like that somehow explained the whiplash of the moment you’d just shared.

You took the opportunity to stand, needing space, needing to breathe. “I should—um, I should go. It’s late.”

Jay’s head snapped up. “Wait—”

But you were already grabbing your things, shoving your notebook into your bag. Your fingers still trembled slightly.

Jay stood too, stepping toward you, but he hesitated. Like he wasn’t sure if he should stop you. Like he wasn’t sure what to say after what just happened.

And honestly? Neither were you.

So instead, you forced a small, strained smile. “See you tomorrow?”

Jay held your gaze for a beat longer, something unreadable in his eyes.

Then, finally, he nodded. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

You turned quickly, stepping out of his apartment before you could second-guess yourself.

The night air was cold against your burning skin.

And as you walked away, heart still racing, one thought repeated in your head over and over again.

What the hell just happened?

The Valentine’s Open Mic Night had arrived.

The auditorium buzzed with energy—students chattering excitedly, couples whispering to each other, friends hyping up performers. The warm glow of stage lights bathed the room in a golden hue, casting long shadows against the red-and-white Valentine’s decorations.

Backstage, you paced.

“Stop doing that,” Jay said from his spot on a folding chair, tuning his guitar for what had to be the hundredth time.

You shot him a look. “Doing what?”

“Walking back and forth like you’re about to confess to a crime.”

“I feel like I’m about to confess to a crime,” you muttered, rubbing your arms. “Why does this suddenly feel so intense?”

Jay smirked, resting his guitar on his lap. “Maybe because we wrote a song that sounds suspiciously like a love confession?”

Your heart jumped in your chest. “It’s not a love confession,” you shot back, a little too quickly.

Jay arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

You opened your mouth—ready to argue, ready to insist that the song was just a song, nothing more—but the words didn’t come out.

Because the truth was, ever since you’d started rehearsing for this performance, something had felt… off. Not about the music itself—the melody was strong, the lyrics flowed effortlessly—but about the way it made you feel.

Every time you sang it, every time Jay harmonized with you, there was this undeniable weight behind it. Something unspoken, something too close to the surface.

And the more you listened to it, the more familiar it felt.

Like you’d heard it before.

Like you’d felt it before.

You swallowed, voice quieter now. “…Jay.”

His smirk faded slightly. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, but then the realization hit you so hard, you couldn’t stop the words from spilling out.

“This song,” you murmured, gripping the hem of your sleeve. “It sounds like us.”

Jay stilled. His fingers froze on the guitar strings.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Then, he let out a slow breath, tilting his head at you. “You just figured that out?”

Your heart stuttered. “You knew?”

Jay’s lips twitched—not in amusement, but in something softer, something almost… shy. “I had a feeling.”

Your pulse roared in your ears. “And you didn’t say anything?”

Jay shrugged, glancing down at his guitar. “I figured you’d realize it eventually.”

Your mind spun. You thought back to every late-night practice session, every lyric you had painstakingly written with him, every melody that had come so naturally between you. You thought about how easily the words had formed, how every note had fit perfectly.

And then it hit you.

This wasn’t just a song.

This was your song. Yours and Jay’s. A reflection of everything between you—the teasing, the late-night conversations, the moments you’d never dared to name.

It wasn’t a forced Valentine’s song. It was real.

And it was about him.

The announcer’s voice crackled through the mic. “Next up, we have a duet from two of our very own music majors. Give it up for—”

You barely heard the introduction. Your heart was hammering too loudly, your thoughts running too fast.

Jay stood, slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder. But before he could step forward, he turned to you, eyes searching yours.

There was something unspoken in his gaze, something that said, We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.

But the thing was—you were ready.

Because now, standing here on the brink of something terrifying and real, you knew one thing for certain.

You weren’t just about to sing a song.

You were about to tell Jay—in front of an entire audience—exactly how you felt.

Even if you hadn’t meant to.

Even if he already knew.

You took a deep breath, steadied your racing heart, and stepped onto the stage with him.

The last note hung in the air, trembling like a secret waiting to be spoken.

Then, silence.

For a split second, everything stood still—your hands gripping the mic, Jay’s fingers frozen on the last chord, your breaths coming fast and uneven. You could still feel the weight of the song between you, still hear the echoes of every word that had slipped past your lips.

Then the auditorium erupted.

Applause, whistles, cheers—loud and overwhelming. The sound crashed over you, breaking through the haze that had settled during the performance.

Your chest rose and fell, heartbeat still trying to catch up with everything that had just happened. Slowly, you turned to Jay.

He was already looking at you.

The stage lights painted him in gold, catching the softness in his gaze, the hint of something unspoken lingering in the way his fingers were still curled around his guitar.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then, Jay exhaled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He tilted his head slightly, eyes searching yours.

We did it.

You nodded.

And just like that, the moment passed.

Jay turned back toward the mic, running a hand through his hair before giving the audience a lopsided grin. “Well,” he said, voice slightly breathless. “That was fun.”

A few laughs rippled through the crowd.

You could still feel the rush of adrenaline in your veins, your mind spinning from everything—the song, the way Jay had looked at you, the way the lyrics felt too real.

The host walked back onstage, grinning as he clapped his hands. “Wow. That was… incredible.” He turned to you and Jay, eyes twinkling. “Now, I gotta ask—was that just a performance, or was that something real?”

Laughter and teasing whistles rang through the crowd. Your breath hitched.

Jay glanced at you.

The stage lights made it impossible to see the audience clearly, but you could feel every pair of eyes watching, waiting.

Jay hesitated for only a second. Then, with a smirk, he leaned toward the mic.

“I guess that’s up to interpretation.”

The crowd groaned in playful frustration, but Jay just chuckled, sending you a quick, unreadable glance before standing up and adjusting his guitar strap.

You huffed out a breathless laugh, shaking your head as the host ushered you both toward the wings.

The second you stepped offstage, the noise of the crowd muffled behind the curtain, a strange weight settled in your chest.

Jay stood beside you, shifting his guitar on his back. He didn’t say anything right away, just let out a quiet exhale before turning to you.

For a moment, it was just the two of you again. No audience. No stage. No expectations.

Just you, Jay, and the song that had said everything you hadn’t.

He opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something.

But before he could, someone called his name from the other side of the curtain, and the moment slipped away.

Jay hesitated for half a second, gaze lingering on yours—like he was waiting. Like there was something unfinished between you.

Then, with a small, knowing smile, he gave you a nod.

“C’mon,” he said softly. “Let’s go.”

And just like that, he walked away, leaving you standing there—heart still pounding, lyrics still echoing in your head, and a quiet, unshakable feeling that whatever this was between you and Jay…

It was just beginning.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

It started slow.

Not because either of you were unsure—because, really, after that song, after that performance, there was no denying what had been brewing for a while between you two—but because neither of you wanted to ruin what was already there.

The playful banter, the late-night coffee runs, the way you always saved him a seat in class, the way he always texted you first whenever he found a song he knew you’d love.

So for a while, nothing changed.

At least, not obviously.

But then there were the small things. The little shifts that made it clear that something was different.

Like the way Jay’s arm would rest along the back of your chair a little longer than necessary. The way his fingers would brush against yours when he handed you a sheet of music, lingering just a second too long. The way his texts became softer—not that they weren’t teasing, because Jay would always be Jay—but now they came with an undertone of something more:

Jay:

Late-night practice? I’ll bring coffee.

Song idea. I need your genius input. Also, your voice.

Are we calling this “studying” even if we just end up talking the whole time?

(Not that I’m complaining.)

And then there were the moments between the music.

Like the first time he reached for your hand without a joke to hide behind. You had been sitting in the empty auditorium after a long practice session, your head leaning against the back of your chair, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs.

Jay had stretched, rolling out his shoulders, and then—without looking at you—he just took your hand.

No teasing smirk. No offhand comment. Just his fingers curling around yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And it was.

Or the time he had walked you home after another late-night coffee run, and instead of his usual casual “See you tomorrow”, he had hesitated at your doorstep, looking at you like he was thinking about something.

You had raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Jay had tilted his head, lips twitching in amusement. “Nothing,” he had murmured. “Just… realizing I might be in trouble.”

Your heart had flipped. “Trouble?”

“For liking you too much,” he had said easily. “Feels dangerous.”

And you had laughed—because of course Jay would confess something like that with a smirk and a joke—but you had still felt your face heat up.

(And okay, maybe you had reached for his hoodie, tugging him forward just enough to kiss him on the cheek before quickly ducking inside and shutting the door behind you.)

And then there was now.

Sitting in the music room, your back against the grand piano, Jay’s guitar resting across his lap as he absently strummed through a melody you hadn’t heard before.

You tilted your head. “New song?”

Jay hummed. “Maybe.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Another love song?”

He smirked but didn’t deny it. “What can I say? Got a lot of inspiration lately.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered anyway.

Jay’s fingers slowed over the strings as he glanced at you, expression thoughtful. “You know,” he said, “I don’t think I ever actually asked you.”

You frowned slightly. “Asked me what?”

Jay set his guitar aside, turning to face you fully. “If I can be your boyfriend.”

Your stomach flipped. “Jay—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted with a grin. “It’s kinda obvious at this point. But still.” His voice softened, eyes meeting yours. “I wanna hear you say it.”

You exhaled, shaking your head at him. Hopeless.

But still, you smiled, nudging his foot with yours. “Jay, you’ve been my boyfriend since the moment we wrote that song.”

His expression shifted—just slightly. Just enough for you to catch the flicker of something real in his eyes.

Then, in typical Jay fashion, he smirked. “Oh, so you’re admitting it was a love song?”

You groaned, laughing as you reached over to shove his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Jay caught your wrist before you could pull away, tugging you toward him. And before you could react, before you could even tease him for it—

He kissed you.

Soft. Unhurried. Just enough pressure to steal your breath, just enough warmth to send a slow, steady hum through your veins.

When he pulled back, he grinned, voice barely above a whisper.

“So, you wanna write another one?”

Series Taglist — next • prev

@saphiranishimurashan @elairah @baribaaari @m1kkso @letwiiparkjay @jellyluv4eva @manuosorioh @moontyun @mbsnow @taesanoreohair @tiny-shiny @glimmerinaaa

- If you weren’t tagged you need to fix your visibility!

[setmeatopthepyre]

mystery monday (more phosphorescence fic) part 1 | part 2 <- follows directly after this

-

“No, come on, listen. You saw him on that call, you-- you must have noticed. He wasn't okay. How was he suddenly just... fine, just a few weeks later? It was like he'd-- he'd forgotten about me, Chim.”

“Look, Buck...” Chimney is looking at him kindly, and Buck hates it. Chim jokes and doesn't take him too seriously, that's what he does, that's what Buck's used to from his brother-in-law. But this isn't joking. This is just the... the not-taking-him-seriously part. “I know this has been a really tough situation for you...”

“It-It's not because he broke my heart, alright?” Buck says, suddenly angry, frustrated, getting to his feet. “It's not. There's something wrong with him. Can't-- Can't you just, talk to him? See for yourself?”

Chimney's gotten to his feet now, too. Maybe in an attempt to even the playing field, keep Buck from towering over him, not that standing up does him much good in that regard. Buck feels a little guilty, but he can't-- he can't sit down, can't sit still right now. He begins to make his way to the kitchen. Turns. “Wait, have you talked to him at all?”

Chim crosses his arms over his chest. “Honestly? Not really. We texted a few times, right after... you know.”

“He dumped me?” Buck says flatly, feet carrying him forward. He helps himself to a glass of water.

“Yeah.” Chim says hesitantly, trails after him into the kitchen. “That. So, not recently.”

Buck can feel the way he's being watched, resolutely doesn't turn to face him yet, takes a second to let this-- this irritation subside. If Chimney would just believe him, if he'd just understand--

“Okay,” Chimney says. “Yes, fine. If you think that will help, I'll... I'll give Tommy a call. Okay?”

“Yeah?” He turns now, takes a few steps closer, trying to gauge if Chimney actually believes him, or...

“Of course,” Chim replies. “That's what brothers are for, right?” He gives Buck a pat on his shoulder, as though trying to really lay the brother thing on thick. as if Buck won't notice he's still looking at him like he's someone to be concerned about as he does it.

..

So it doesn't surprise Buck when Maddie spontaneously drops by the firehouse the next day, because she just so happened to be in the area.

“Don't listen to her, she's here for me,” Buck says with a sigh, earning him a round of raised eyebrows from everyone but Chimney, who has his best (worst) poker face on. He had cornered Chimney earlier that morning to check if he'd talked to Tommy yet, but apparently Tommy hadn't answered because he was on shift, which is fine, though Buck knows Tommy is perfectly capable of picking up the phone when he's on shift as long as he isn't actively on a call. But. Whatever. Chimney will try again later, and until then... Buck is apparently being babysat.

“I'm here for all of you,” Maddie retorts before sing-songing, “I brought fancy coffees!”

“Maddie Han, you are an angel. You should ditch your lousy husband and run away with me,” Chimney croons, accepting the cup she offers him. Buck sticks to where he's leaning against the rig, waiting for his sister to finish her little charade so she can corner him and look at him with those-- those big brown worried eyes, and tell him she knows it's tough but isn't it time he thought about moving on? He'd shot his shot, he'd texted Tommy. If he hadn't responded, then, well...

He should take the hint.

Buck knows that. He just... can't. Not when something so very clearly isn't right.

Even if he's the only one who seems to notice.

-

tag list below the cut

@fiyaerrigan @bisexualbrainrots @leashybebes @louuieferrignojr @rubydaiquiri @teabroomsandbooks @crimsonwildcat-blog @sweaters-and-silly

let me know if you wanna be added or removed :)

[accio-sriracha]

@bradleysass SNIPPET TIME

(Thank you for the tag darling <3)

This is a little long, but it's from my Jegulus fic called "A Hostage Situation"

"Let go of him!" James shouted, holding out his wand, "Step back! Now!"

The man jumped backwards, holding out his hands. They were filthy and covered in a layer of grime,

"Can I help you?" He asked, eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, you can start by walking your sorry arse out of those doors." James tipped his wand towards the exit.

"Auror scum." The man scowled, shoving away from the bar and elbowing through the crowd to the door.

James turned to the other, slipping his wand back into its holster, "Are you alr-"

He froze.

It was Regulus.

"Potter?" Regulus' voice sounded far away, his eyes unfocused as he stared at James, "What are you...?" He trailed off, looking confused.

James' looked down at his drink,

"Shit." He took it from Regulus' hands, "He put something in this, didn't he?"

Regulus frowned, eyebrows furrowed, "I haven't seen you since Hogwarts."

James set the drink down, holding out a hand as Regulus swayed on his feet, "Come on, let's get you outside."

Regulus giggled, "You look different." He whispered.

James tried to smile, it didn't come out right, "And you haven't changed a bit."

"Potter, where are you?" Frank's voice came from his earpiece. James cursed under his breath,

"I got a situation. Give me a minute to sort it out and I'll be right there."

Another click in his ear, Frank's voice was irritated now, "If it isn't life or death you need to drop it and get over here. The target's missing."

"Missing?" James repeated, "Are you sure?"

"He's not here. We're spreading out to search. We could use the help."

James helped Regulus to a bench just outside of the restaurant, "Okay, I'll be there as soon as possible."

He turned to Regulus, "Can you wait here for a bit? I'm calling your brother to come pick you up."

"No." Regulus groaned, his words slurring slightly, "Sirius doesn’t like me."

"Okay, well I can't take you with me, so you need to-" James cut himself off when Sirius picked up the call,

"Hey, brother. What's up?"

"Actually, that's exactly what I'm calling about. I need you to come get your brother."

"What happened?" Sirius' voice switched instantly to concerned. James sighed,

"I'm on a mission right now, I found Regulus at the Draught of Happiness. Someone spiked his drink." He explained.

"What's going on?" Remus' voice came from the other line. Sirius cursed,

"I'm on my way. Hang tight."

James looked up at Regulus, who seemed less and less conscious by the minute, "We'll try. Get here fast."

The call disconnected.

Regulus' eyes widened, "Potter-" He whispered. Before James had the chance to respond he felt something hard press into the back of his head.

"Set the wand on the ground and stand up."

James closed his eyes, this was not how he wanted this mission to go.

"Potter...?" Regulus started again. James let out a slow breath,

"It's okay. Just stay right there." He held up his wand so the other person could see it and set it on the pavement in front of him, "You have me, alright? Just let him go."

Fingers curled around James' wrist and he was yanked to his feet, spinning around to come face to face with the man from the bar.

James' stomach sank.

He knew that face.

He'd been studying it on the case files for the last twelve hours.

"I think we should have some fun first, don't you agree?"

[neege]

Wolfstar + awkward family dinner

Here you go!!! This is a little longer than I expected because I am bad at keeping things short and sweet, but I hope you enjoy! I decided to make this a little silly ❤️

It's so quiet.

The sounds of forks and knifes moving across their plates is almost delicate, as if everyone's afraid to make even the slightest noise.

Dinner had started with some very brave attempts from Hope to make conversation, but now even she was struggling under the oppressive blanket of discomfort that seemed to be covering the room.

Remus doesn't know what's going on.

His parents have always been fine with his sexuality, and they'd seemed genuinely excited to hear about him and Sirius. It had been their idea for them to visit—and Remus had planned everything out: the only available time for them to come fell on their anniversary, so he arranged for them to stay in a lovely bed and breakfast up the road, before spending the next few days in huddled together in Remus's childhood bedroom.

Things had been great when they arrived this morning—his parents greeted Sirius with noticeable warmth, but sometime between taking a walk and Remus waking up from his nap for dinner, things had turned horribly stiff.

He just wish he knew why.

Sirius, bless him, clears his throat and turns to address his mum.

"So, Remus has been telling me about your interest in travel?"

Grateful for anything other than the suffocating silence, Hope offers a small smile, "Yes! Lyall and I have thought about renting a van and maybe venturing up along the coast."

"Oh!" Desperate to keep the conversation going, Remus jumps in, "Sirius has always wanted to do something like that! Although instead of a van I think he'd love to get me on the back of his motorcycle-"

He's interpreted by the sound of his father choking aggressively on his wine—nearly spiting it out over the table—and Remus finds himself bubbling up with frustration.

"Okay, what the hell happened while I was asleep!"

All three of them look at him in surprise.

"I thought you both liked Sirius! What could've possibly happened to make you change your mind in the past 4 hours-"

He's interrupted once again, this time by the sound of his boyfriend's laughter, which only irritates him further.

"Darling, it's okay! It's nothing like that-"

"Then what! What happened!" Remus sounds a little bit whinier than he'd like to, and calms slightly at the touch of Sirius's hand.

A definite hush falls back over the dinner table, as if no one wants to actually answer him. He can see his dad's face turn redder and redder, while his mum is visibly fighting back a grimace.

Sirius sighs, pink-cheeked and biting his lip like he doesn't want to talk anymore. He steels himself before continuing on.

"It seems... Well, it appears that..."

He stops, takes a breath, and starts again.

"Remus darling, did you get me a present for our anniversary?"

"Yes?" He tilts his head in confusion, thinking about the soft leather gloves tucked into the pocket of Sirius's weekend bag.

"Not the gloves love, the other thing..."

Remus thinks about it for a moment, perplexed. The gloves were the only thing he'd exchanged with Sirius yesterday at dinner. In return, Sirius had given him a lovely leather bound notebook with his name embossed on the inside cover.

He's not quite sure what Sirius is talking about for a second, and then, all at once the blood instantly drains out of Remus's body.

He recalls the small red box he'd slipped into Sirius's leather jacket pocket back at the bed and breakfast, too embarrassed to watch his boyfriend open it at dinner. Sirius hadn't mentioned anything about it yet, so Remus had assumed it wasn't found yet.

Sirius, noticing his reaction, continues to speak horrible horrible words.

"Well, the box must have fallen out from wherever you placed it, because while you were asleep, your dad found some pictures scattered across the floor and-"

The fork from his hand falls loudly to the plate below as Remus covers his eyes with his hands in horror. All the blood previously vacating Remus's body comes flooding back in to his face in the world's most violent blush.

No. No!

He thinks about how embarrassing it felt to set all that up. How he felt stiff at first, but more confident as he kept snapping photos. How he had angled the camera just right to capture Sirius's bike while still blocking out the mess from the garage. How he nearly chickened out after looking at the final product: ten separate muggle polaroids depicting Remus, sexily draped over Sirius's motorcycle—some where he's wearing only his boyfriend's leather jacket, and others where he's wearing nothing at all.

No!

Sirius's cut-off laugh cuts through his momentary panic enough for him to take note of how his dad is decidedly not looking at him.

His mum starts to speak, a small hint of amusement in her voice, "Honey it's okay, it was just a little surprising is all! We know that you two are both adults, and-"

"No!" Remus finds his voice—the heat of his cheeks burn. "No, please stop!"

Sirius is now outright giggling, the bastard.

"Oh my God!!" Remus continues with his mortification, "Please tell me you didn't see what they were?!"

Sirius settles down, and it's quiet for another moment.

His dad clears his throat awkwardly, and then:

"So Sirius... how have you been enjoying that motorcycle?"

"DAD!"

Sirius dissolves into loud, happy laughter.

[worth-this-and-more]

[TW: sh mentions, violence] [spoilers for legendborn and bloodmarked, read at your own caution ;)]

so i've been rereading and trying to cover up all the legendborn content that happened while i pufff disappeared, and pardon me it is taking more time than i imagined, however i just wanted to start off with one pet peeve of mine

*rant incoming*

this might just be my unorganised thoughts or maybe just common sense, but sometimes you dont fully understand why a character did something; you have to sometimes to come back and read it again once you have that epiphany. it doesn't matter whatever tf they are doing, it sometimes just doesnt make that effect, especially on first read.

when i first read bree lashing out on greer and sar when they touched her hair, i didnt quite understand it. i thought its a cultural thing and moved on. now something about me, im a little fair, by indian standards. not completely clear skin and shit but im on the lighter side. so if im in my village, if im anywhere else wearing something with a bit of skin showing, i automatically get the comments "you're so fair" "what's your skincare" "so lucky" "you'd marry so soon" all that typa shit. and then come the unwanted touches, touching me on any exposed skin. and by any i genuinely mean any exposed skin. that's when i kind of realised why bree was so irritated when they tocuhed her hair, because people sometimes see our nicer features as free estate. and its annoying. and that is when her reaction fully made sense.

when i first read selwyn mesmered bree, i was so angry. i did not want bree to forgive him without him grovelling, ofc, but i also could not understand why he did that. what was his motive?? and why hide it from bree only?? nobody else?? now i've been in my low times since like years, not a big deal. got a lot of scars, some too visible, some not. i dont bother hiding it if im out in public where there's nobody who knows me or nobody who would care enough to ask. but if im with my friends, close people, i hide them all. and its just like valec said, its not to hide something its because of the fear of judgement. and that's when it kind of made sense why selwyn would hide his descent specifically from bree. she has bad experiences with mesmer, no doubt, but even worse with demons. it was a bad call through and through but one that is not unfamiliar. i dont hide my scars for my safety, i hide them because im ashamed.

and when nick killed max and then promptly disappeared into the woods, that was also somehow so out of character in my eyes from him. during grief and in the moments of crushing hopelessness, doesn't everyone want someone?? isnt the obvious reaction supposed to be him coming to bree, and not running away from her?? but that's not what happens yk. i once had a classmate who was not generally the type of person you'd want to be around. he was the type of person who has "trouble" spelt on him in flashing neon red. but after all, we were young, wanted to keep the peace, so i kept the decent communication. he would constantly invade my personal space, unwanted touches, unsolicited comments, it gets annoying. the last straw was when he tried to touch my best friend's schoolbag. i, in a moment of pure rage, threw him against the wall and actually started choking him. when the class managed to get me off of him, he was unconscious. in that moment my bestfriend came to put a hand on my shoulder, i visibly flinched and ran away from there and stayed in the washroom until school was over. this isnt as bad as beheading someone, but the response is familiar. of course he is going to go away rather than come closer; people whose love language is physical touch often have their hate language as isolation. i didnt hurt him purely because he tried to take my bestie's bag, i hurt him because i wanted to. nick didnt kill max purely because he killed his father, he killed him because he wanted to.

there's more of the events where we just kind of make this internal bias that we know what the character is going through and that we would definitely make better decisions, but can you?? do you really think you can or you're just overestimating yourself or underestimating the actual thing going on with the character??

i have made this mistake too, i know. i have taken some time to reflect back though and now i can say that yes i have made harsh judgements too. i am changing that tho because i've got a lottt of time to sit down and think and yeah i guess we all need it time to time.

what im trying to say is, things are not black and white. its a spectrum, there's dark grey light grey. it's a lot. and until and unless you are capable of putting yourself in that type of situation or closer, it's better to not make concrete opinions. shit happens and people do things, real life people are just that, people.

anyways this was a long rant i probably lost my point halfway through but okay whateva

[sunwoniie]

REVENGE

Pairing: idol!virgin!soft dom!Jay x idol!virgin!brat!Isabella

Synopsis: Lately, Isabella has been ignoring Jay, which is pretty weird considering she usually loves messing with him until he’s absolutely furious. At first, he’s just confused, but when he finally figures out why she’s avoiding him, he realizes it’s the perfect chance to get back at her. And he’s not about to let it go to waste.

Warnings: virgin jay and isa, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (pulling out before coming), bathroom sex

Old scenario

English is not my first language

Lately, I’ve been getting familiar with cold showers. They’re known for their health benefits, but that’s not why I take them. Cold showers are also used to calm people down—especially when their urges become overwhelming. Like me. Right now.

I’m ovulating, and it’s driving me insane. The need is so intense that I might actually call an escort just to get some relief.

My ovulation periods have always been wild, but things got worse when I practically started living with a bunch of ridiculously attractive guys. And yet, despite being surrounded by them, my fixation is on Jay. When that started, I have no idea.

Jay and I have always had this bickering dynamic. I don’t hate him—if anything, I love to annoy him. Seeing that irritated expression on his face is pure entertainment. Pranking him is my specialty, and nothing amuses me more than watching him turn red with frustration when he realizes it was me. I laugh so hard my stomach hurts, and the moment he spots me, he yells my name before chasing me down.

Running while laughing? Impossible. He always catches me, pinning me down against whatever is closest—the floor, the wall—before tickling me until I can’t breathe.

It’s fun.

But not when I’m ovulating.

When he pins me down, holding my wrists above my head with one hand while tickling me with the other, my thoughts spiral into something else entirely. Something not-so-innocent.

That’s why, from the moment my ovulation started, I began avoiding him. No teasing, no pranks. I knew exactly where it would lead, and I didn’t trust myself to handle the consequences.

It’s late at night, and the boys are having a sleepover in our apartment. I can’t sleep—not with these thoughts clouding my mind—so I decide to take a cold shower, hoping it will help.

I step out of the tub, wrapping my bathrobe around me before opening the bathroom door—only to freeze.

A sharp gasp escapes my lips before I slap a hand over my mouth, as if that could undo what just happened.

Jay is standing right in front of me, his messy hair and relaxed posture making it clear he just got up. His hands are buried in the pockets of those gray joggers I hate—because he looks so damn good in them, and I would never admit it—but also love, because they fuel my fantasies about something I’ve never seen.

“Y-you scared me,” I stammer, lowering my gaze to the floor, unable to handle the intensity of his stare. The normal me would be mortified at how easily he’s intimidating me right now.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t let me pass.

I shift to the side, hoping he’ll take the hint and enter the bathroom so I can leave, but he remains planted in place.

“Jay… are you okay?” I whisper, mindful of the others sleeping in the living room.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” he finally speaks, his voice low.

I swallow. “W-what do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb.” His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?”

His words make me tense. “Jay, can we talk about this later? The others are sleeping.” I try to keep my voice quiet.

He moves at last, but not the way I want. He steps toward me. Instinctively, I step back.

My breath hitches when he enters the bathroom, swiftly turning around to shut the door behind him.

“Jay—w-what are you doing?” My voice trembles, my pulse racing at the thought of being alone with him in a closed space while I’m barely dressed.

“You’re not leaving until you tell me what I did wrong,” he says, arms crossing over his chest.

I exhale sharply, playing with my fingers, eyes glued to the floor. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Jay steps closer.

“Stop,” I blurt, taking another step back. “D-don’t come near me. Please.”

His eyes search mine. “Why?”

I sigh, my shoulders dropping. It’s too awkward to tell him the truth. That I’ve been fantasizing about him. That’s why I’ve been keeping my distance.

“I’ve been… feeling weird lately,” I admit, barely above a whisper. “Especially around you.”

Jay watches me carefully. “What do you mean?”

I force myself to meet his gaze, inhaling deeply before confessing, “I’m ovulating.”

The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them. I shut my eyes, hating how vulnerable I feel.

Silence.

I peek through my lashes to find him smirking. His lips curl into that maddeningly smug grin, his expression laced with amusement.

“Are you masturbating to the thought of me?”

My breath catches. My whole body stiffens.

Jay steps forward, closing the distance between us inch by inch.

“Jay…” My voice is shaky, betraying my rising panic—and something else I refuse to name.

His gaze darkens with mischief. “Are you having nasty thoughts about me?”

I keep retreating until my back meets the sink. There’s nowhere left to go.

“Jay,” I breathe, barely able to get the words out. “D-don’t come any closer.” My hands lift instinctively, a feeble attempt to stop him.

His smirk only deepens. “Why?” His voice drops to a husky murmur. “I can help you. But you have to tell me exactly what you want.”

I stop breathing altogether.

“Jay.”

“Yes, Isabella?”

The way he says my name—slow, deliberate, seductive—sends a shiver down my spine.

He never calls me by my full name. Never.

It’s always Isa like the rest of the group. Or Bella, when he’s feeling playful.

But Isabella?

That’s new.

And it’s dangerous.

I feel wetness slowly dripping between my thighs as I instinctively press them together. My breathing is uneven, and before I even realize it, Jay has already closed the remaining distance between us.

His hands gently cradle my face, tilting it upward so our eyes meet. “Aw, look at you… so red,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement. “It must be really hard, huh?” His smirk deepens, clearly satisfied with the effect he has on me. Now, it’s his turn to tease, to watch me squirm.

Annoyed, I slap his hand away. “S-stop playing with me,” I stammer, turning my head to avoid his gaze.

“Who said I was playing?” he counters, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him again.

His voice is low, teasing, dripping with control. “Tell me… how can I help you?” His lips hover just inches from mine, and I know he’s enjoying every second of my struggle. He knows exactly what I want—he just wants to hear me beg for it.

“I-I need you,” I breathe, leaning in, desperate to close the distance between us. But he pulls back at the last second, his smirk widening. He loves this. Loves watching me writhe, loves making me desperate.

“What do you need me to do, Bella?” His voice is a taunt, a challenge.

I let out a shaky sigh, surrendering to the inevitable. “I need you to fuck me… please.” My voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s all he was waiting for.

His smirk turns predatory. “Took you long enough to say it,” he murmurs before crashing his lips against mine.

The kiss is messy, desperate—our first, but I don’t care. His hand slides down my back, pulling me against him as we devour each other, tongues tangling, teeth grazing. My hands grip the sink behind me, my knees weak, barely holding me up.

I’m already addicted—to the taste of him, to the way his lips move against mine, to the heat radiating from his body.

He pulls away, leaving us both breathless, but he doesn’t stop. His mouth moves to my neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, sucking, teasing. A moan escapes my lips before I can stop it, and in embarrassment, I slap a hand over my mouth.

Jay halts immediately, his darkened gaze locking onto mine. He reaches up, prying my hand away. “Don’t hide those pretty little noises from me,” he murmurs.

His fingers move to the knot of my bathrobe, untying it with excruciating slowness before sliding the fabric off my shoulders. It pools at my feet, leaving me bare before him.

His eyes finally break away from mine, traveling down my body. I watch as his pupils dilate, his jaw tightening. His gaze is hungry, devouring every inch of my exposed skin—from my round breasts and hardened nipples to my wide hips and thick thighs.

I shiver as his fingertips ghost over my stomach, tracing a slow path upward until he cups one of my breasts. A soft groan escapes me at the sensation, and he watches, fascinated, as my chest rises and falls under his touch.

His thumb brushes over my nipple, rolling it between his fingers, sending a bolt of pleasure straight to my core. My thighs press together instinctively, desperate for friction.

“W-why are you acting like that? Haven’t you ever seen a—ahh—a woman’s body before?” My voice is shaky, my breaths uneven.

He smirks, his hands kneading my breasts, applying just the right amount of pressure. “No, I haven’t.” His voice is calm, but there’s something darker beneath it.

I let out a breathy chuckle. “Y-yeah, I… ahh… I kinda figured.”

His head tilts slightly, amused. “Oh?”

“You’re always so irritated,” I manage between gasps, my body arching into his touch. “I just assumed it’s ‘cause you’re a virgin… and you just needed to get fucked.”

He chuckles at my state—flustered, desperate, unraveling under his touch. But instead of responding, he pinches my nipples, drawing a strangled moan from my lips.

“I find it funny how you’re still being a brat,” he muses, “when I’m here to help you.”

Then, without warning, he leans down, capturing one of my nipples in his mouth. A sharp gasp leaves me as he sucks, his tongue flicking, teasing, driving me insane.

I’m losing myself in the pleasure, my body greedy for more. “You can play with my body another time,” I pant, barely able to form words. “Just hurry up and get this done before someone wakes up.”

Jay pulls back slightly, licking his lips, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “So… you’re planning on doing this again?”

Realizing what I’ve implied, I quickly look away. “Shut up and hurry up.”

He chuckles again, the sound deep and rich, before I feel his hands leave my breasts. When I glance down, my stomach tightens—he’s sinking to his knees, eyes never leaving mine.

A thrill of anticipation runs through me as he lifts one of my legs, placing it over his shoulder. My heart pounds when I realize how close his mouth is to my dripping heat.

“Y-you don’t have to do that,” I stammer. “Just go straight to—ahh!”

My sentence is cut short as his tongue flicks over my clit, a low groan vibrating against me. The sensation sends a shockwave through my body, making me moan.

What starts as soft, teasing licks quickly turns into a full-blown assault on my pussy. His tongue moves with precision, alternating between slow, sensual strokes and intense, desperate sucking.

“Jay~ ah! Jay~ ngh! Please!” I can’t control the words spilling from my lips, my head thrown back as pleasure overtakes me.

His grip tightens on my thigh as his tongue dips lower, teasing my entrance before sliding inside. His fingers replace his tongue on my clit, rubbing circles that have my legs trembling.

A wave of pleasure crashes over me, unlike anything I’ve ever felt. My fingers tangle in his hair, my hips moving against his mouth, desperate for more. “Fuck, it’s so good!”

Then, without warning, he slides two fingers inside me.

I cry out, the sudden intrusion sending a jolt of sharp pleasure through my core. He doesn’t wait for me to adjust—his fingers pump into me, curling, stretching, filling.

I’m overwhelmed, completely at his mercy, my walls fluttering around his digits. The coil in my stomach tightens, my breaths turning ragged.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant mindlessly, gripping his hair harder as my body starts to tremble. The pressure builds higher and higher, an unstoppable force surging through me.

“Jay—ahh! I’m—I’m gonna—ngh!”

My orgasm crashes over me, violent and all-consuming. My body jerks, pleasure detonating in my veins as I come undone around his fingers.

But he doesn’t stop.

Instead, he continues—licking, sucking, fucking me through the aftershocks. My body twitches, my nerves overstimulated.

“Ja—Jay, stop, stop! I can’t take it anymore!” My voice is high, desperate, as I try to push his head away.

But he just smirks against me, completely ignoring my pleas.

Because Jay doesn’t give a fuck if we get caught.

Eventually, I stop feeling any movement inside me—the friction of his fingers, the warmth of his tongue on my clit. He withdraws his hand, and I hear the slick sound of him licking his fingers. My head is tilted back as I try to regain my senses, so I can’t see what he’s doing, but I can picture it in my mind. The thought alone sends a shiver through me.

Slowly, he stands, taking his time to admire my body. When I lift my head, I find his eyes locked onto mine.

"Where did you learn to do that?" I ask, struggling to believe he’s really a virgin after what he just did.

"YouTube tutorial," he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, pulling down his joggers.

I watch, my gaze trailing down to where his erection strains against his boxers.

"Yeah, right," I scoff, rolling my eyes at his broken humor.

"I'm just naturally good at this," he says, his dark eyes never leaving mine as he slides his boxers down, revealing his thick, veiny length. My breath catches. How is that supposed to fit inside me?

"Wait, we don’t have condoms," I say, snapping back to reality as he steps closer, his bare chest now fully exposed. He’s fit—lean, toned, perfect.

"I’ll pull out before I cum," he assures me, positioning himself between my legs.

His gaze flickers down to my chest, rising and falling with my heavy breathing, before meeting my eyes again. He can tell I’m nervous. But I’m not scared—at least, not in the way he thinks. I’m more excited than anything, overwhelmed by the anticipation of something so unfamiliar.

"Do you want to keep going?" he asks, his voice softer now.

I swallow hard. "Yes. Keep going."

But he still doesn’t seem convinced, so I lean forward, capturing his lips in a deep kiss. When I pull away, I whisper again, more confidently this time, "Keep going."

"Alright, but this time, try not to be too loud—"

"Hey, you’re—"

Before I can finish, he presses forward, the thick head of his cock stretching me open.

"Ah," I gasp, my body instinctively clenching around him.

It hurts, of course—just like any girl's first time—but the need for him overshadows the pain.

"Does it hurt?" Jay groans, his voice strained as if he’s holding himself back.

"Just a little, but I’m fine. Keep going."

He sinks deeper, my walls fluttering helplessly around him. I bite my lip hard, my gums aching from how tightly I clench my teeth.

A low, guttural moan escapes him. "Can you—ah… can you try not to clench so much?" His eyes remain shut, his brows furrowed as if he's using every ounce of willpower to keep himself together.

"S-Sorry, I-I can’t control it… but I’ll try."

He pushes in further, stretching me open inch by inch. The more he fills me, the harder it is to breathe.

By the time he’s fully inside me, I can feel his cock twitching slightly, making me clench around him even more. His breath is shaky against my ear as he wraps one arm behind my back, pulling me closer while his other hand keeps my leg hooked around his waist.

We stay like this for a moment, giving me time to adjust—or maybe giving him time to focus, to keep from losing control too soon.

I feel his warm breath ghosting over my skin. "Jay… y-you can start moving now," I murmur, my hips rocking unconsciously to create some friction.

Instead of answering, he straightens, his arm still bracing my back as he slowly thrusts forward.

"Ah," I moan, louder than I intended, before quickly covering my mouth.

I try to stay quiet, but it’s impossible. The way he moves—the way he fills me—makes it feel too good. Too good.

"Fuck, you’re clenching so much," he groans, voice tight with restraint.

"Mmnh… fuck, fuck, fuck," I whimper under my breath.

Jay suddenly lifts my other leg, leaving me completely at his mercy. The new angle makes him reach deeper, thrusting faster, harder, hitting a spot inside me that makes it absolutely impossible to keep quiet.

"Jay! Jay!" I whimper, feeling an intense, familiar pressure building deep in my core.

"Yes, Bella," he groans, voice raw, his thrusts growing more desperate. His cock twitches inside me.

"Don’t stop—I’m going to cum~" I cry, my walls spasming violently around him.

"Fuck—I-I’m not planning on stopping, Bella," he rasps, pounding into me a few more times before I shatter around him, pleasure crashing over me in waves.

My body shakes from the intensity, but he doesn’t stop—he keeps fucking me through it, chasing his own release.

"J-Jay—too m-much," I whimper, my body twitching from overstimulation.

"I—I know, I’m sorry. I’m about to cu—ah—ah," he groans, pulling out at the last second.

His breath stutters as he strokes himself frantically, his release spilling hot and thick across my stomach. His head drops against my shoulder, both of us struggling to catch our breath.

"Do you still think my dick is small?" he asks after a moment, a teasing smirk creeping onto his face.

"Yes. Very much," I lie, refusing to feed his ego.

He chuckles, lifting his head. "Ngh, so big," he mimics, tilting his head with a playful smirk. "Isn’t that what you said?"

"Shut up," I mumble, smacking his arm lightly, making him laugh.

Suddenly, he hooks his hands under my thighs, lifting me effortlessly.

"What are you doing?" I yelp.

"We’re taking a shower," he says simply, carrying me toward the bathroom.

Once inside, he sets me down gently before turning on the water. The warm spray cascades over us as he grabs a washcloth, squirting body wash onto it before rubbing it across my skin, cleaning away the sweat and the mess he left on my stomach.

His touch is slow, deliberate, almost tender. And as he moves the cloth over me, I can’t help but think—I never expected this from him.

And yet, I never want it to stop.

[glamourscat]

MAKE ME LOSE MY MIND | FEM! SHIDOU RYUSEI X READER pt2

Since you can remember, from the first moment you saw Ryu, you knew she was going to be the biggest nuisance in your life, yet, at the same time, the very subject that torments your dreams at night. It was no secret: the girl was attractive. She knew it, you knew it, even your grandma knew it. Everyone knew. It was simply a fact.

With her long, slightly wavy blonde hair and those hot pink dyed strands. The way she swings her hips just a bit when she walks. Her confidence is utterly magnetic. The way she loves pampering herself, from skincare to manicures and spa days. The way she looks like she owns every room she steps into. And you’re utterly, stupidly, obsessed with it.

You can’t keep your eyes off her. And it’s getting embarrassing.

At night, your mind flashes back to those memories in Shibuya before the start of the Third Selection, when she dragged you to a bar simply because, why not? You had no idea what you were walking into. Good music. A lively atmosphere. People are so comfortable in their own skin, flaunting flamboyant outfits and sparkling makeup. And, in a way, you felt a twinge of jealousy because she fit so seamlessly into it all.

Her hips swayed to the rhythm as she danced with some girl in the middle of the dance floor, and you couldn’t help but clench your jaw.

That should be me.

That’s the only thought in your mind. But it’s foolish, isn’t it? You two are nothing but friends and even that’s a stretch. Maybe rivals with… what? Occasional sparks of friendship? Still, this is ridiculous. The way—never mind.

That night, you two had probably the worst fight since meeting. The words exchanged were heavy, both on your side and hers. She had followed you outside while you tried to escape the images and thoughts plaguing your mind.

Once back in Blue Lock, she acted like nothing had happened. And you did the same.

But you never really forget those words. They still linger, creeping up in the worst and most excruciating moments inside this damned prison.

"Earth to Y/N… are you even listening to me?"

Shidou waves her hand in front of your face, eyebrows furrowed in what you think is concern.

"Hm? Yeah—sorry, I just spaced out," you mumble, your voice quiet as you go back to washing your hair, pretending not to be affected by her damned breasts so close to you. Not the right time nor place for being a boob person. Why does she have to shower next to me anyway? There are, like, twenty showers and she always picks the one beside me.

"You sure?" she asks, studying your face. "I mean, I know I’m hot, but you don’t have to be so flustered about it," she teases sarcastically, letting the warm water run over her body.

And you can’t help but let your eyes run over the tanned skin. The hint of abs, those stretch marks that looked like the final touch from an artist trying to add that hint of something to their work. The way her breasts were so full and perky. Her thighs, full and squishable. Strong and muscular from playing football and long. Her blonde bush– enough. 

"Yeah, whatever you say," you reply quickly, too quickly, too quietly, as you try to rush out of the shower before she could notice your flustered expression. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

What the hell was that?

"What the fuck is actually wrong with you?" Her voice is too loud, way angrier than she probably intended. But Shidou is pissed. She shuts off the shower, staring at you in disbelief in the empty bathroom as you wrap a towel, one that’s way too small, around your body.

"What?" Your voice is laced with irritation. She doesn’t like that.

"This. You. One moment we’re fine, and the next, you’re pissing me off with this—this shutting down bullshit. What the fuck is wrong? What did I do?"

"Nothing, it’s not—"

"Then why are you running off?" Shidou snaps.

"Would you just leave me alone?" you snap back.

A moment of silence.

You two stare at each other, breathing heavily. Unspoken words linger in the space between you. 

"You wanna know what my problem is?" you say quietly, teeth gritted.

"It’s you. You and your stupid fucking personality. You make me wanna go crazy, but at the same time, I can’t live without it. I’m—tired. Sick and tired of your fucking attitude. You’re a thorn in my side and yet I keep pushing it in because maybe I’m a masochist and enjoy the pain. Because maybe—I wanna feel desired, because I feel something and this—this doesn’t make sense. Like you’re playing a—"

"Fuck me, you’re truly more blind than I thought."

Before you can reply, her still drenched and very much naked body presses against you, arms on your waist, forehead against yours. Lips so close you can feel her warm breath ghosting over your skin.

"I literally said, ‘Let’s make out under the shower’ earlier." Shidou's voice is quiet, slightly annoyed.

"You were playing aroun—"

"I wasn’t," she snaps. "For fuck’s sake… I wasn’t. I keep throwing hints at you. What more can I do? I keep offering you massages, to read my favorite manga together and I literally told you earlier that we should make out. How much clearer do I need to be?"

You look up at her, speechless. A little unsure. Your eyes sting with a hint of tears. Damn, you are stupid.

"I—I’m sorry," you whisper, your voice cracking.

"What are you apologizing for?" she whispers back, pink eyes locked onto yours.

"I… don’t know. For being a blind idiot?"

Ryu chuckles, her scowl from earlier softening into a smile.

"Sure. You’re an idiot. But you’re my idiot."

"… "

"Too cheesy?" she asks, trying to fight back a laugh.

"Too cheesy," you admit, smiling softly.

The tension from before disappears as she looks at you and you look at her. 

“So… about that make out session..?” she says suggestively moving her eyebrows, grinning. 

Yeah, you’re an idiot. An idiot who’s foolishly, madly and unapologetically in love with a girl. Your girl. 

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[miausterx0x]

Some early proxy Liana things

bc jeff and nina are mentioned here lemme do a quick yap <3

Nina basically picked Liana up like some sort of stray animal. After Liana was brought back to life she was confused by pretty much everything that was happening around her nor had she even fully processed the fact she had been dead yet, meanwhile Nina's interest was immediately piqued by the newcomer and she had practically inserted herself into Liana's life before she knew, quick to become friendly with her like they've known for years. Nina's upbeat attitude did help Liana come over the initial haze like state she was in the first few days and soon she managed to get more grounded and actually process things that had happened, including the fact Nina was actually befriending her. Because of them becoming close and Nina welcoming Liana so fast, she has a softer spot and a bias for her as a result. Talk shit of Nina in front of Liana? You're getting talked shit of next straight to your face. Even though she knows Nina has her flaws and might get annoyed with her herself at times she has pretty much 0 tolerance for anyone taking out their frustration on Nina.

Jeff is basically the opposite of what happened with Nina. He and Liana met briefly during one of the first days of Liana becoming a proxy but they barely exchanged any words before he pushed past her and then she didn't catch a glimpse of him for weeks. The next time they would meet enough time had passed for Liana to get her bearings, making her more confident in what her job and purpose was. Since Jeff was a fellow proxy she thought it'd be better if they could start again off on a better foot compared to their first meeting but Jeff made it clear he had no interest in trying to get to know her. She was a tad irritated by his lack of effort in companionship but she didn't push it, willing to let him be if there was no need for them to interact with one another. Of course though, situations came up when they'd have to talk, most often missions which proved to be a nightmare to get through. Jeff's continuing lack of interest and straight up dismissive behaviour towards what she had to say would frustrate Liana to the point they spent more time arguing than getting anything done, escalating into physical fights. Needless to say it took them a long time to become less hostile with each other.

enough yapping me

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

tbh i think one of the biggest things they could have done to make five and nine hate each other without bullying or bigotry involved would have been to lean into the thing where some adhdtistics naturally vibe, whereas others have an incompatible combination of nd traits that make them viscerally unable stand each other, and go from there

[cookinguptales]

I love how ConcernedApe was like "no, you may not have children with your adorable monster roommate" and instead of making me less feral, that just encouraged me to marry villagers, divorce them, take full custody, then introduce our children to their new monster daddy.

You made me worse, ConcernedApe.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Just once, I would like to be able to have a conversation about my feelings with someone where they don't, at some point, start trying to explain to me why something happened such that they are either implying or outright stating I should stop having noticeable feelings at them about a thing and/or telling me that I'm wrong about how I feel and actually if I just understood this thing I would see that I'm being unreasonable to say I feel the way I do.

Just once, for someone's response to be "it sounds like you're feeling [insert thing, e.g hurt, sad, scared, tired, angry, etc], I'm sad that you are dealing with that." Not to take responsibility for my feelings! But for them to acknowledge that they're happening and might matter to me before they move on to whatever the fuck next thing they have to say is

[silverislander]

i'm thiiiiis close to just blocking the whole j/v tag and/or the individual tags for both characters :)))

[medilies]

Do you ever watch s3 and s4 and realise you're not enjoying it that much

[c0rpseductor]

you know im about ready to write an educational post for dragon age fans explaining the difference between keyword search and tagging and also how rude it is to get snotty with strangers who are just idly talking about their own personal opinions bc it is consistently This Fandom where total strangers see posts of mine that are clearly just me talking to myself and decide to get on my case

[itspileofgoodthings]

you know what I’ve realized lately? that’s really helped? the axiom: it just doesn’t really make that much of a difference. Or at least it doesn’t when you’re talking about good things and not, like, doing good vs. doing evil. Big choices, little choices, decisions, decisions —it’s not just that they don’t matter in the grand scheme of things—because they do! —but just. It won’t make that big of a difference. Life will continue to be wonderful AND difficult, fascinating AND hopelessly mundane, full of roses AND thorns and all the other cliches whether you walk down one road or another. And you’ll get used to the joys and sick of the sorrows whatever they are, and you’ll be ungrateful and bored and dissatisfied in some measure some of the time and you’ll have to work on all the things you have to work on anyways and just. Yeah! It doesn’t make that big of a difference! Even the biggest things!