#and now he's back again & it's even worse but also maybe better... i feel normal ....

[traumatise]

he leaves, just like alaric suggested, and it's brutal. a loud silence descends about as fast as regret. because fuck. this isn't who he is. he isn't the one who shoves people away just because he can't take a little heat. what even was that? his mind keeps replaying the look on damon's face, unhelpfully listing all those tiny changes in expression in explicit detail for his viewing displeasure. he isn't that asshole, but he sure is tonight. he isn't the one to take what damon offers and throw it away, but he sure is tonight. for what, ric? for what? what are you so afraid of?

here's what's worse: losing even an ounce of his respect. they've both worked too hard to get here and also didn't even have to work at it at all, in some ways, it comes so naturally to them. so being the reason for a potential damon landslide is ... pretty inexcusable. not just because it's a little embarrassing to contemplate (damon's a grown man, number one, and ric wouldn't take that shit on as his own responsibility as if it isn't fully on damon for however he chooses to react to people being people, number two) but also because fuck, this isn't who they are. these aren't the lines they've drawn, unspoken but understood. important. they're two people who have each other and a bar at the end of the day, if nothing else, and that's more than enough. that should always be more than enough.

he takes a moment, maybe five, to calm his racing heart. to recollect himself, for whatever that's fucking worth, into everything he remembers being when shit gets tough. stable, for one. that's a plus he won't take for granted again. and yeah, when the door opens again, and damon's voice filters through, there's something unfortunate and jittery going on with his pulse again, but that's much more simple to ignore this time. because—fuck, since when does damon even do this, anyway? since when is he the one to come back, hold up a peace offering? something's tugging way too hard on his last guarded heartstring, and it's all he can do not to cross the distance and kiss him hard, fast, messy with more than words can ever say. but that's so counter-productive it has his head spinning. so he locks it up, throws it into the ocean, prays it never finds its way back up for air. ignores the fact that he's done this before. ignores the fact that it always does.

for all ric knows there are dead witches pulling at his sleeves and beckoning him deeper into the house, but they've lost whatever meager grip they could have had on him the moment damon salvatore was asked to leave and let himself come back.

worse liar is a touch concerning, but fair. deserved. ric finally turns around, brings himself back to damon, eyes catching on the bottle in his hands and softening in absolute spite of himself. "done jerking off," he agrees, reaching out to take it; and his fingers do close around damon's, and it is entirely intentional, squeezing a bit. lets the weight of an apology settle there before he fully accepts the bottle from him. "look at you with the booze ready to go while i'm having an episode. are we swapping species and roles now?" and that's an apology, too, at the end of the day.

he eases by damon, out of the house, allows his shoulder to bump the other's gently along the way. tries to tell himself it's more for damon's benefit than for his own. "let's take a minute. the witches are telling me to reconnect with nature by drinking this entire thing, and i don't think it'd be wise to disobey." he doesn't stop until he's all the way to the car, settles himself atop the hood with plenty of space for damon to sit alongside him. it feels better already out here—fresh air, something to drink, fewer expectations. he can do this. he can be normal. he can be the brick wall of alaric that they both need more often than not. he just needs damon to buckle down with that pretty girlfriend and never make him prove himself wrong.

Signals do not get any more mixed than this, he's sure. Further confirmed when he's sent a half stumble backward, forcibly reacquainted with supporting his own weight on the floorboards. He blinks, slow and stupid, trying and failing to figure out how the path from Point A to Point 7 had been a direct one, but Alaric's already halfway across the room when he has the bearings again to just ask. Or, wait. He did that already, and lost out on a real answer and then some. This is Damon's fault, because it usually is, and maybe the push for a magical crash course speed run was a step too far. Many steps too far, the way Ric's shaking an addict, creating as much distance between them like Damon had been the one moving like a man possessed. He opens his mouth and shuts it again twice, wonders when the hell this got so complicated and what could have possibly gone wrong first.

The witch thing might be the tipping point, but it's not the truth. Damon knows that the second it ghosts over his lips. Technically several seconds after, since his mind tends to blank on signs of trouble anytime he's got a warm body pressed over his, but that's beside the point. What he doesn't know is which of his latest attempts at being comforting were entirely the wrong move, or why he's so mind bogglingly bad at this. No need for an extensive play by play of everything going on in Ric's head, even if every flash in his eyes is as tortured and unreadable as the last. Unlike some other very important people in their lives, Damon doesn't carry the inclination to hold him down and force that kind of soul bearing to the surface. He'd sort of like to now, since apparently Ric doesn't trust him enough to get it off his chest even prompted. That's the part that's not sitting well. That's the part that stings.

For the good of the team, he tries to reckon what might actually be justified. It's been a very long time since he was human. Doesn't remember what it's like to very suddenly have immeasurable power coursing under his skin, or how he managed to level it out. Inextricably horny? Maybe. He doesn't appreciate getting jerked around, even if the extraction was entirely necessary, because again, they're. They're working on something. Growth or whatever stupid reason. Ric's the one that planted the idea for Damon to get situated without being so careless about who he's touching on, and here he is unable to contain himself. Should be vindicating - the instant rejection makes it anything but. Paired with his inability to be honest, Damon's seeing a little red. And sure, there's a chance he's overthinking it, but clearly he's been under-thinking everything else, so this seems like the right time to play it safe. Whatever game this is, he's losing. Bad. So. He'll oblige before hurt develops into a really pissy mood like it tends to, and he decides he ought to screw things up on purpose. That he's really good at, but there's two heartbeats pounding horribly out of sync in his ears, and he has no interest in setting the human one off and accidentally killing his best (read, only) friend because he needs to have the last word.

"Sure thing, Ric. Take your time." Curt, flat, and to the point, because he's been trying his damnedest here to be good about, frankly, everything, from the witch stuff to the werewolf stuff to the semblance of human decency stuff, and it's still somehow biting him in the ass. At a certain point this has to be a talent. He doesn't wait for Ric to respond, breezes back down the main way and out the door. Slams it shut for good measure, rattling the frame hard enough to echo a message that he has zero intention of coming back inside. Maybe most of that's the witches' doing. A reminder he's not welcome here, there, or anywhere. Whatever, man. Not his kind of party anyway.

He only gets as far as Ric's car when he remembers he can't vamp speed out of here, which is just more bullshit he's not in the mood to figure out. Breaking something might help, and for a brief moment the windshield is an appealing option. Driving off and leaving Ric to walk would also feel good. For a moment. The combination of both sounds like a recipe for bugs in his mouth, though, so he abandons that pretty immediately. Mostly because he doesn't actually want to do any of those things, just can't temper what part of this is psycho wolf brain and what part is regular grade, psycho Damon brain. Neither are trustworthy. And you know what, neither is Ric. Dawns on him then that his impulse control has found some check, which is a very dim bright side. Does it still count if he doesn’t have an audience? Back to a tree falling in the forest. Might be easier to just burn it down.

He takes a minute, maybe five, trying to sort out what Ric - not present Ric, because that guy's not handling anything well - would do. What he might need to unscrew this particular setback. Maybe he had a point in there. The air outside is clean of any morbid witchy tension, and that helps calm his nerves enough to think of action beyond destruction. There's a couple things he can try. Booze might be the problem but booze is also the solution, where Alaric is generally concerned, so he sighs, fishes the emergency bottle out of the trunk and figures that's a long enough break. He can be cool again. Probably. The front door is heavier this time (for crying out loud, can they get over themselves?) but Damon doesn't bother to step over the threshold. "Hey, asshole," he calls inside, scanning what he can make out under the magic light show, "If you're not jerking off or dead yet, I got something for you. Consider it a grand prize for being a worse liar than Jeremy." And maybe that's sort of an apology, too. Depends on Ric's attitude.

[tinkkles]

Petra's awoken guardian-specific dialogue in the Chamber of Starlight this week has me feeling some kind of way. I didn't get a screenshot but after reminiscing about all the ceremonies she used to attend there, she sighs and says something like "I wish you could remember it."

For all the angst-ing she's done about Uldren and Crow, she also feels that for us, at least to some extent. Maybe Mara does too. Maybe Uldren did, when we met him before he died. For centuries the reef awoken have been seeing their friends die and come back wrong, same face, but no memories, no convictions, no nothing. Petra knew us before, at least in some capacity, and now we're just a living weapon she gets to co-wield like once a year, when our weird work schedule for some foreign government agency just so happens to send us back to the Dreaming City, our home, where we used to attend ceremonies and sing in the Chamber of Starlight alongside her. No wonder Uldren resented guardians so much. Dramatic irony is such a bitch

[nomairuins]

and also it doesnt even matter if i miraculously get a job tmrw bc we don't have a car . and im too out of shape to walk anywhere bc everything is far away . so i genuinely dont jnow what to do

[dontbesoweirdkira]

What if batsib also dies and comes back? Would that get rid of their status as the comfort person and stability in Jason's life?

This anon is referencing this post!

Hmm. This is such an interesting question! Thank you for asking.

I think it really depends on how you view Jason in my writing. I'll give you a few possible answers and you can do it as you will. To be honest my headcanons are up for interpretation. There's no right or wrong answer in fiction. I want you all to be pleased.

If you want my personal answer then it's the second one. Happy imagining.

If you took it as that he only clings to Batsis because of their purity.

Well i think the answer would be yes. But this would also mean he's not really obsessed with you but what you have. Your innocence and optimism is something he can hyper focus on. It overrides the demons and memories in his mind, when he's in his worse state, he can fade back into the thoughts of you and feel better. You give him hope that maybe the world isn't as shitty as his mind makes it out to be.

If you can stay unscathed for so long then what happened to him was just an anomaly. You are the perfect example of how he wishes he was. Blissful and un-traumatized, he lives vicariously through you.

You dying completely shatters his mind. He allows all of the bad to overtake him, there's no hope for a better life. It's clear the world doesn't want good to exist so why try to fight his demons anymore? They already took you which was the last sweet thing left.

When you come back, you're so different. He can't bring himself to even look at you. It destroys him so much. You're a husk of your former self, you're too much like him now. He hates who he is and thus can't love you the same way as before. Even the pure vanilla scent on you has a hint of death mixed into it. He doesn't like it.

he keeps his distance as far away from you as possible and is rather hostile when you try to interact with him. He doesn't truly mean it but it's all too much.

If you took it as he clings to you purely out of love and your purity is just a bonus.

He could never even think to stop loving his sibling. If anything it brings him closer to you. Your death tore him to shreds...yet you even in the midst he still held onto parts of you he had left.

Your memory..your scent still lingers just enough to carry Jason through the months of your death. He remembered the promises he made to you about becoming better, becoming just like Dick. He still wants to carry that through so he can be someone you are proud of. It keeps him from slipping back into the depths of his mind again. Maybe he even leans on the support of his siblings as well. He doesn't completely shut everyone out.

When you come back, he might be slightly standoff-ish. He's confused and conflicted. He's happy to see his siblings once again but at what cost? He knows what going through the pit is like and what it does to your mind. It looms over you and tries to rip your mind apart. You see and hear things that aren't really there...or maybe it is but only to the un-dead. He's hurting for you. He never wanted someone as kind as you to suffer like this. He knows the pain will never stop.

After his initial aversion, he's even more protective of you. Sure you may not want it but you need it. You won't be getting through this alone, you may be a shell of yourself but soon you'll be back to normal. Just like him you can turn it around.

It's nice to have someone in the family who can directly relate to him. It's like you both are in your own little world together. The other siblings can't have access to you the same way he does. He loves it. He finally has his sibling all to himself and there's no more competition. The others are the strange ones to you now...not him! To Jason, you're still as perfect as before.

[octuscle]

Fatal shortcut

You know those days. The traffic is murder. You can't go another inch. Your destination is within reach, but it will take you three green lights and at least 20 minutes to cover the last 100 meters. Bloody hell! Honk the horn? It's no use… But now carefully pull onto the green lane, then cut across the high school parking lot and you're there. Why do you have your baby, the Mercedes G-Class, after all? I put on the turn signal, the car takes the sidewalk like nothing, carefully into the parking lot, look left and right and…… BANG! Damn it, the Mustang has clearly taken my right of way. This is guaranteed to take longer than 20 minutes… The two morons in the car look like they only have their heads to wear football helmets and pour beer through their mouths. The typical stereotypical football college jock bros. The day just keeps getting better…

"Yo, Chuck! Bro, did you see what that punk did there?" "Sure, Brad! He definitely took your right of way." I try to protest. But I'm way too caught off guard when the guy, who is obviously Chuck, stands up in front of me. God knows I'm not small. I'm a well-trained, muscular six foot two. But Chuck is easily ten centimetres and at least 20 kilograms taller than me… He grabs my balls. Damn it, I want to punch him, but Brad's already got me from behind. And Brad is barely smaller than Chuck. "There you go, you little faggot!" Chuck hisses at me. "Are you lying in wait for your wankers in the parking lot again? But this time is the last time!" He spits in my face and his grip on my balls tightens. Brad turns my head in his direction and spits again. Then the two of them get into their car, put it in reverse. And disappear.

I stand there a bit like an idiot. I'm far from being small or a faggot. And the last thing Chuck and Brad were to me were wank templates. I mean, I have nothing against gays… But thanks no, not for me… I'll take a look at the damage to the car. It's no big deal, the Mustang looked worse. I get back in the car, drive the last few meters into the underground car park, throw my keys to Stephen at reception and ask him to take the car to the garage. When I get off work later, I'd like to have it done. He puts his hand to his temple and says "Sir, aye, sir". Hehehe, I don't mind hierarchies being recognized.

"You little faggot"… I can't get that phrase out of my head. Shit, I'm really unfocused today. Maybe I just need a distraction. I go to the gym during my lunch break. Somehow I feel the need to look like anything but a faggot. I train bare-chested. Dressed only in compression shorts. Not really appreciated here. But I don't care today…

Shit, I'm not in top form here either… What I normally lift without any problems is all too heavy for me today. At least it's the cross trainer… Even though I'm not really the cardio type. When I get in the shower, my cock gets hard. Shit, that's embarrassing. But I also have to say that there's really only premium meat running around here today. And I'm one of them. Definitely one of them. Even the clean-shaven guy in front sees it that way. Clear body language. It doesn't take long before I'm leaning against the shower wall. And for the first time in my life I get fucked… And how! I can hear the angels singing. It feels so good as the stallion cums in my ass. To say goodbye, he gives me a kiss and a pat on the ass. And he says loudly to one of his buddies. "What a waste for such a submissive pig to have such a magnificent cock!"

The fuck was great, but apart from that I'm really not myself today. I feel like I've been missing the last year. For the life of me, I can't remember a lot of things that happened. It's like I wasn't there. I'm glad when Stephen calls me at around 5 p.m. to tell me that my car is back. I thank him, pack up my things and go down to reception. Stephen grins at me almost insolently and says that this service is an exception and that he now has something good on me. Completely confused, I say, "I'm fine, dude" and take my car keys. But there is no black G-Class in my parking lot. There's a baby blue Mercedes SLK, in good shape, freshly polished. But it must be 15 years old. I press the key. The doors open. What the fuck?

I just want to get home, this day is a disaster. As I park the embarrassing car and walk past the concierge, Michael calls after me, "Hey, Johnny boy, can you give Mrs. Smith from 2316 a lift?" I turn red. I walk back to the concierge desk. "So what, my name is Jonathan, but it's actually Mr. Hays to you. And why would I stop on the 23rd floor when I live on the 38th. Besides, I don't know Mrs. Smith." Michael grins at me with his one-million-dollar smile. "Rough day, John, uh, Mr. Hays? You might as well ask the old lady if her drain is still acting up. And before you try to break into the wrong apartment, I understand you live in 2304." He hands me a package. I drive up to the 23rd floor. I give her the package. She asks if I can plug in the new coffee machine straight away. "Of course, mom," I say. I ask if her drain is working again. She says it would be nice if I could have another look. I ask if she has any rubber gloves. She nods. I pull the dirt out of the blocked drain. She slips me a dollar. I go to 2304, open the door. And drop onto the bed. It's right next to the door. 2304 used to be the room for the lady's maid from apartment 2312. On the one hand, I feel very much at home. But on the other hand, I should be somewhere else. Somewhere with a view of Central Park. With more space. I pull out my cell phone and start working my way through Grindr. Maybe I just need someone to take me really hard again today

That was a night of really wild dreams. Really wild dreams. But obviously everything is fine now. I feel fit. My morning wood has never been better. I stroke my chest. Didn't it used to be hairy? I'm fantasizing again. What it would be like to be a real guy. Successful, at least 1.82 m. Well, I'm not going to grow any more. But maybe that's because of some Italian roots or something. That's where I got my hairy armpits and good beard growth. Shit, I'm still hard as nails. So routine like every morning: wank, jog, shower and then off to the office. I should be there at 07:00 so that the mail is distributed and the conference tables are all set before the Masters of the Universe arrive at the office. It's 07:05 when I walk in the door. Stephen grins and just says, "Subway?" "Don't ask, bro!" I reply, rolling my eyes. I didn't really need a bachelor's degree for my job. Jogging in the morning to stay in shape is more important. At the end of the day, I usually have 15K steps and 40 floors on my fitness tracker. And that's not usually the end of it. By the time I get home, Michael usually has a number of assistance activities for me. But hey, the address on the Upper Eastside sounds impressive, which I would never normally have been able to afford as a young professional. I'll even put up with the apartment on the first floor with a view of the backyard and the job as a temporary janitor.

Of course it's embarrassing to still live with my parents. But if I wanted to afford my own place, I'd probably have to move 200 miles away from Down Town. And I want to stay here. That's important to me. Also for financial reasons. The subway tickets alone would be too expensive if I had to travel further. I mean, the little bit of scholarship… And I don't earn much in the kitchen of the cafeteria. Stephen and Michael are good friends. If I didn't have them, I wouldn't make it. But they have good contacts. Stephen in the office, Michael at home. They always know someone who needs a massage with a happy ending. Or a greedy college boy face for a blowjob. The men are usually well-groomed. Too well-groomed, actually. That's why I always look forward to my part-time job as a trainer at the high school gym. If I'm lucky, I get to meet Brad and Chuck. I mean, they're not gay or anything. We never make eye contact. But I still get to blow them sometimes. Even though, of course, it's pathetic when you're a sophomore in college sucking high school seniors. But fuck, you won't find cheesier dicks with a more pronounced scent of musk and sweat anywhere!

Yo, have I even dropped my name yet? It's Janusz, 19 years young and repping as an exchange student up in the Big Apple. Just call me Jonny, keep it chill. Hailing straight outta a tiny village near Krakow, Poland, in case that detail tickles your pickle. Still wrapping my head around this English gig… But let me tell ya, my French game is on point, or so the bros claim. Thrilled to be out of the parental crib and living it up in this wild city. Dang, the possibilities here are endless! Senior year vibes, you know what I'm saying? And now that I joined the wrestling squad, it's like BOOM! More close body action in a week than I got in a year with the 'rents around! Truth bomb: I make most of my cash tagging along with my wingmen Brad and Chuck, the school heartthrobs. I'm like their trusty sidekick. It's lit! Hoping to snag an athletic scholarship next year, fingers crossed. Sure, these two golden boys ain't wrestlers (legends in the bedroom, though), but football studs. It'd be epic if we could keep the bromance alive in college. Purely platonic, of course. Or not… 🤷‍♂️

[mercedista]

𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐇, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓⠀⠀⠀→⠀⠀⠀𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘:⠀A killer breaks into your room, except he doesn't kill you. Well, that's one of the pros of being his girlfriend, even if you don't know that behind the mask is your boyfriend.

𝐖𝐀𝐑��𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒):⠀Porn with plot, horror, non-con, dub-con, mention of murder, threat, poor smut, squirting, toxic relationship.

𝐀/𝐍: Part one for more context. Also, I haven't proofread the content, I don't have any experience with smut and English is not my first language. Keep it in mind.

"Open your fucking mouth, before I make you pay for what you did with your own life." Not that there was any other option, he gave your cheek a light slap, just as a silent warning, and as soon as you opened it, he stuck his fingers in. It was a disgusting sensation for you, that glove rubbing against your tongue as you were forced to watch him use his other hand to open a little of the cape he was wearing and then his own pants.

You knew what to expect, and your vision became blurry again with tears.

He took his fingers out of your mouth and pushed the back of your head against his cock. You didn't want to notice, much less compare, but there was no way you couldn't, he was big. Maybe as big as your boyfriend.

"You've lost your choice, slut." Your thoughts were interrupted by his cock entering until he felt your throat squeezing it. You fought against it, not having prepared yourself, and not having any experience. You didn't know if that pain was normal, if it was his exaggerated size, or just the result of him being too violent with the thrust.

He held your head against him for a few seconds, before letting go and allowing you to catch your breath. But as soon as you recovered – a matter of only five seconds – he was already making you swallow his cock again. "Back to work."

At least he seemed to be having a little more mercy now, continuing to pump your head on his cock, while he threw his back each time your tongue dragged against a vein of his. His hair was already sweaty beneath that mask. "Fuck...!"

His breathing was heavy, but his throat was still forced to wait a few minutes that seemed more like hours until he finally reached his peak.

You were already dizzy, your head hurting, when he pushed your head back, ordering you to stick your tongue out. "I'm going to paint your pretty lips, baby."

The salty splashes touched your tongue, you felt disgusting, you wanted to spit it all out. Not because of the taste, but because of the guilt you felt for being used, even though you had no responsibility for it. "It's not over yet, doll."

Pulling you by the neck, he threw you on the bed, your face sinking against the pillow, while you only heard the clink of more parts of his clothes falling to the floor. "Please, just kill me already... I can’t–" You begged one last time, sobbing, fearing the worst that was to come.

"Don't cry, princess." He said, his voice surprisingly human now. And definitely familiar, more than you would have expected. You felt his hands turn your body, and through the tears that blurred your vision, you recognized the face of your dear boyfriend. If you could still call him that. "Surprise, I guess?" The look of horror that once again crossed his face was divine, and even better with the small sobs that passed through his lips.

"Did I scare you? I went easy on you, baby. I've done worse to my victims." He said, spreading your legs. Without any warning, he thrust into you, a growl escaping his lips as he felt your walls clench around his cock. "But you know... I'm faithful, I've never fucked them like that, if that makes you feel any better."

He wasn't being as delicate with his thrusts as his tone of voice was deceiving, his skin slapping against yours without any mercy. Your boyfriend bit the tip of his glove, ripping it off and throwing it to the side, leaving his bare hand to slap dangerously close to your clit. "I'm glad... that you chose to stay faithful as well..." He said, giving a particularly violent thrust, which made you grunt between sobs. He pressed his uncovered face against your neck, nibbling on it as he continued to fuck you. "I didn't mean to test you, but hell...! I fucking love you."

He said smiling. Your faces were so close, he squeezed your waist. You felt his tongue lick a tear that ran down your cheek. He loves you alive and well, of course, despite his sadism. But, the thought of you cheating on him just to save yourself? He would kill you before you had the chance to do that. "Fuck." He bit his lip. "Such a good little fucktoy. Taking my cock like a champ. You're still as tight as the day I fucked you for the first time."

You closed your eyes, trying to find some semblance of sanity amidst the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings that were running through your body at that moment.

"Aw, baby, look at me. Think of how good..." His boyfriend paused, moaning. "How good it feels now... There are no more secrets between us. Like it always should have been."

"You're a damn murderer... you lied to me...!" You snapped, biting your lip then to make a moan die in your throat. "And now you expect... me to forgive you–"

You were interrupted by a sudden movement, he turned you around again, without even making much effort, and put you on all fours. "Silence, now. For someone who was crying minutes ago, you're talking too much." He grunted, slapping your ass, rubbing his cock, still hard, against it. "Shut your pretty mouth, or I'll fuck the little hole you don't like."

He chuckled at the irritated noise you made before he slid his cock back into your entrance. "Now why don't we start over, and you thank me for being a good boyfriend and not opening your throat with a knife after that kick?"

You feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you as he hugs you waist, pressing his body against your back. The pain from his rough thrusts is intertwined with a sickening sense of pleasure, and the realization that he's truly capable of such violence sends shivers down your spine.

"Too... much..." You manage to choke out, your voice barely audible above the sound of your boyfriend's grunts and the creaking of the bed.

He seems to take pity on you, or perhaps he's simply enjoying watching you tremble and humiliate youself. Either way, he slow down a bit, but continues to pound into you, his grip on your hips tightening. "That's a good girl," he purrs, his breath hot against your ear. "You're learning your place." As he speaks, you feel his cock twitch inside you, and you know he's close to climax. "God, I can't even imagine what it's like to fuck your ass..."

Tears stream down your face as you try to hold back your orgasm, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much you're enjoying being used. But it's no use; the pleasure is too intense, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

Suddenly, he pulls out of you, and you feel cold and empty without him inside. Before you can protest, he flips you over onto your back and climbs on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head.

He leans down and captures your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth and claiming you in the most intimate way possible. "You're so easy to play around with, like a doll, so easy for me to put you in any position." At the same time, he lines up his cock with your entrance and slams back inside, burying himself to the hilt in one movement. The pain from his grip on your wrists mixes with the pleasure of his cock hitting your sweet spot.

He let go of your wrists and reaches around to grab your breast, squeezing it roughly. "Tell me, have you ever let another man touch you like this?"

You shake your head frantically. "No..." You whimper.

He chuckles darkly, his hand sliding down to rub your clit. "Good... good fucking answer." he purrs, his fingers circling the sensitive nub. "Because if you ever let another man touch this tight little cunt, I'll fucking kill you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but wonder if he's serious. But the thought of him being jealous and possessive only turns you on more. And you hated yourself for it.

"Oh?" He mocks, giving your cunt a sharp slap. "Did you just get tighter? You fucking freak." Your boyfriend couldn't help but smile at his pretty girl.

"Y-You're imagining things..." You try to deny it, saving a shred of dignity that was still left, but it was just so hard, you can feel every inch of his cock as it slides in and out of your sore, sensitive flesh. 

He bites down on your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, and you cry out. "I don't have time to baby you," he growls, his hips snapping against yours with brutal force.

Right now, he was only concerned with his own orgasm. Maybe he himself was already tired of all that edging. You can feel your orgasm building, your walls clenching around his throbbing cock as he drives into you relentlessly. Just as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls out, leaving you empty and desperate, his cock spurting cum all over your pussy and stomach. It made you tremble just with the mere contact of his tip over your clit.

Even without having reached your orgasm, you were dizzy from all the stimulation and tired, without much strength to move. So you were expecting the same from him, but a few seconds after cumming, he was already moving again, making you groan. He moves down your body, his tongue tracing a path from your neck to your belly.

"Aw, my poor baby..." he coos, his breath hot against your skin. "You didn't get to cum, did you?"

You shake your head weakly, too exhausted to form words. He smiles at you, his eyes filled with a wicked gleam. You were already too tired to fight, and you just wanted to cum already, it didn't matter if you had to beg or cry for it.

You can feel the heat of his breath as he moves lower and lower, until he's positioned between your legs. He spreads them, exposing your sensitive, swollen clit. He takes a moment to admire his handiwork, the sight of your glistening pussy making his cock twitch with renewed interest

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "So desperate." He dips his head down and starts to lap at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. You moan, your hips bucking up against his face as he continues to tease you. He chuckles, the vibrations sending shivers through your body.

He slips a finger into your pussy, pumping it in and out as he continues to suck on your clit. You can feel your orgasm building once again, your walls clenching around his finger as he works you closer to the edge.

Your boyfriend increases the pressure on your clit, his tongue flicking rapidly against the sensitive bundle of nerves, your body tensing as you prepare for the inevitable release. Your hand went to his hair, fingers tangling with his beautiful locks, he chuckled against your pussy, before going back to his work. You barely had time to warn him, your body shook in ecstasy as you felt yourself squirt. Your heart was racing and your vision was blurry, your chest rising and falling in search of air.

Your boyfriend's eyes widen in surprise as he feels your pussy clench and release around his finger, your juices gushing out and coating his chin. He pulls back, looking up at you with a mixture of shock and excitement on his face. His voice woke you up from your trance.

"Holy shit, did you just squirt?" he exclaims, his voice filled with awe and disbelief. "I've never seen you do that before!"

He grins at you, his face glistening with your juices, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride at the effect you've had on him. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning, his eyes sparkling with joy and anticipation. "That was so fucking hot!" he says, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "I want to see you do it again." He was already going back between her legs.

"No, no, no! Fuck, I am sensitive, you dumbass...!" Your mind barely processed what you said, and when you realized it, you didn't expect him to listen to you, but he did. With a sad exaggerated expression, but he obeyed, at least.

"Aw, but I was having so much fun." he pouts, his lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated display of sadness.

He crawls up your body, resting his head on your chest, his ears pressed against your heart. You can feel his breath, warm and steady, rising and falling with each beat of your heart.

"I'm sorry, baby..." he murmurs, his voice soft, but you knew it was just another one of his attempts at manipulation. You were already used to it enough to recognize it. "I just wanted to play around a bit, I didn't expect things to unfold this way."

"Be quiet or get out of here." You snapped, eyes closing. "You better kill me before I wake up with energy again, because you're going to pay for all this shit."

He faced you, his hand resting on your waist as he observed how upset you were. Which, to be fair, he should have expected. "Come on, baby," he murmured, as if he were pleading for you to talk to him, but it only sounded like mocking. "I made you cum, didn't I?"

When you didn't answer him, he continued. "We both know you'll forgive me before the morning, princess."

Of course he expected you'd let him get away with this. As you always did. But he didn't blame you—he would always find a way to manipulate you, because it suited him so much more.

"You'll be lucky if I even look you in the face after all this, let alone forgive you." You said and covered yourself with the blanket, pushing him away from you and laying with your back to him.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, having to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He knew you'd give in and forgive him... eventually.

"That's cute." He said, with a scoff. "You act like you have any choice." He said, standing up and picking up his clothes. He stared at his mask, wondering whether to take it or not, but smiled, deciding to leave it as a reminder for you.

[cloudshuffle]

What are some of the nasty/creepy things they do to reader in the nobility au? Like the book sniffing thing

arranged by least to most creepy >:)

nobility au

boothill

something about boothill tells me that he’s not very capable of being nasty. or more like he’s not interested in it? he’s a straightforward guy, much preferring to meet you face to face and be in your presence, even if you do always tell him that you’re busy! he knows that’s untrue.

the most boothill has done was follow you around, sussing out your daily schedule with ease. he is a bounty hunter, after all, and a high-profile little miss such as yourself is no trouble for him at all. he tells himself that he’s just another bodyguard, protecting you from the shadows, but all the while he longs to be out in the daylight, enjoying the town with you.

boothill’s not so much creepy than persistent to me, like a puppy left out in the rain that you really can’t adopt but keeps returning to paw at your door. and eventually you have to give in some time, which brings him more joy than anything else in the world.

aventurine

yes, apart from the book sniffing, i imagine he does a lot of sniffing besides, like burying his nose into your hair or kissing your neck and inhaling deeply. (isn’t it said that women apply perfume where they want to be kissed?)

if we want to talk even creepier, maybe he once snuck into the laundry under the guise of ensuring the maids were working and nabbed a piece of your clothing. doesn’t need to be your underwear - i imagine he’d be happy with something more innocent, like a glove. it’s oddly romantic, the way he holds it to his face while sleeping, like it’s your real hand he’s holding.

in the grand scheme of things, i think aventurine isn’t that bad. it could really be worse.

sunday

he watches.

truly, he stands in corners and shadowy alcoves, doing nothing but watching you go about your day. he pops up in places where you least expect him, like, say, the stables. and when he’s cooped up inside the palace with paperwork to do, sunday contents himself by watching you from the windows, laughing and chatting with friends. you’ll often feel someone’s gaze prickling on the back of your neck, but when you look around, you won’t be able to find anyone there. one of sunday’s many talents.

you’d better bet there’s been at least one occasion where he watched you take a bath - god knows how, but at least he did it with a lot of embarrassed blushing on his part. not to say that that’s stopped him ever.

there’s something very special to him about being able to inspect you like an unrefined gemstone under a magnifying glass. 10/10 would not recommend him in your house.

dr. ratio

now hear me out. he is not only a nerd, he is also a nerd with an overinflated ego. meaning that he can, and will, gaslight you into thinking he’s normal.

this sounds ridiculous but stay with me.

you’re having your typical one-on-one lesson with dr ratio. aventurine isn’t present as usual because he’s just going to be a nuisance, so it’s just you and your demanding tutor. he gives you some time to write up a short paragraph, and you lower your head and focus on the assignment.

ratio comes over to see what you have so far. he makes a brief comment. you nod and move to make changes. and suddenly you freeze, feeling fingers on the back of your neck.

you face feels hot. had you imagined it? wasn’t that a completely inappropriate move on his part? should you speak up?

as the professor moves toward the front of the classroom again, he acts like absolutely nothing just happened, raising an eyebrow. “are you feeling alright? your face looks warm.”

and you shake your head quickly, fanning yourself in embarrassment. no way he’d have the nerve to do something like that to do you. after all, he was your tutor… he’d be smarter than to jeopardise his position like that.

[yourlocaljonghoe]

(Not) Another Love Song. || Choi Jongho.

Summary: having a crush on your new roommate is already nerve-wracking enough. but then finding out about his secret cover account made everything even worse. you swear you didn't mean to find it. but when his voice is the only thing helping you through sleepless nights, what else can you do?

Pairing: choi jongho x reader

Genre: college au, roomates to lovers, fluff, smut (mdni)

Wordcount: 11.5k

Warnings: mentions of insomnia, big dick!jongho (i mean duh), manhandling, body worship, nipple play, riding, unprotected sex

A/N: hello, i want to sincerely apologize for vanishing for so long and then coming back with this trashy fic🥲 seriously, in my head this was so much better, but the end result... ugh. but it's whatever! i want to thank y'all again for being so patient with me and also for 300 followers!! sooo crazy🥺 also big thanks to @inkedtae for being my beta, you were a big help! & as always divider credits to @firefly-graphics!

Taglist: @ghstzzn, @kyukyustar, @hwapetals, @foxinnie8, @preciouswoozi, @aussiekpopginger, @kitten4sannie, @hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf

Available here on AO3.

“So… I heard someone here got caught in a very awkward situation with their new roommate,” Wooyoung teased, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he sat down beside you.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Please, Wooyoung, don’t remind me. It was so fucking humiliating.”

He laughed, clearly having no intention of stopping. “So, what exactly were you even searching for when he walked in? 'How to talk to your insanely pretty and hot roommate for dummies'?”

You shot him a glare, your cheeks burning. God, you wanted to disappear off the fucking earth, anything to make the teasing stop, really. “I just… didn’t know how to talk to him, okay? And it was just a dumb search. I didn’t expect him to walk in and see it. I-i thought he was out and I would have enough time to prepare some things if I wanted to say to him. You know my conversation skills aren't exactly the best…”

Wooyoung chuckled and leaned back in his seat, shaking his head. “Well, you’ve definitely made an impression now. But, hey, maybe it’s a good thing! Now he knows you’re shy, and maybe thinks it's kind of cute.”

You groaned again, sinking even deeper into your chair if that was even possible. “It’s not cute. It’s mortifying. He probably thinks I'm such a loser now-”

“Which you are-”

“Shut up, Wooyoung!”

He leaned in closer to you again, his smirk growing. “So, what’s the plan? Are you going to avoid him forever, or are you actually going to talk to him like a normal person?”

You groaned, feeling the heat rise to your face again. “I don't know, okay? I'll figure it out… eventually.”

Wooyoung snorted, clearly not buying it. "Sure, ‘eventually’ meaning ‘never.’ Just admit it - you’re avoiding him because he’s totally your type.”

Before you could muster a response and curse him out again, the door to the boys’ shared apartment swung open, and in walked San, Yeosang, and Yunho, their voices filling the room as they entered. They paused when they noticed you and Wooyoung huddled together, immediately raising their eyebrows. 

“What’s going on here?” San asked, a mischievous look in his eyes as he plopped down on the couch beside you.

“Oh, just Y/N getting caught by Choi Jongho - you know, her new roommate - googling ‘how to talk to your roommate 101’,” Wooyoung said, his grin practically splitting his face.

You wanted to personally scratch it off his face.

Yunho’s eyebrows shot up in surprise before he burst into laughter. “Girl- No way! You didn’t!”

You buried your face in your hands, wishing the ground would just swallow you up. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?"

Yeosang settled down on the armrest, his expression more curious than teasing. "Why didn’t you just talk to us? We could’ve helped.”

“Yeah,” San added, nudging you playfully. “We’re pros at this stuff. Jongho’s just a guy - granted, a rather intimidating guy, but still.”

“Can't one of you just talk to him?” you whined. 

San chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean… we’re not that close to him yet either. He’s still new at the college, and he’s pretty reserved. Besides, he’s your roommate, not ours.”

You sighed. "Great. So, not only am I living with someone who’s way out of my league, but no one’s even close enough to help break the ice."

Yunho nodded sympathetically, but there was still a playful glint in his eyes. “Yeah, sorry, but it looks like you’re on your own for this one. Well, sort of. We can still help you figure out how to approach him though since, no offense, your social skills suck.”

“None taken,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes.

Wooyoung leaned in again, clearly enjoying your discomfort just a bit too much. “You know what would help? Actually spending some time together at your place. You two barely even cross paths. That’s probably why you’re so nervous around him.”

“Yeah,” San chimed in, catching on to Wooyoung’s idea. “You live together, but it’s like you’re living in two separate worlds. If you just hung out at home one night, it could break the tension.”

You frowned, the thought of spending a night alone with Jongho making your stomach do flips. “You all know how awkward I am with people…”

Yunho smiled reassuringly. “It will only be as awkward as you make it. Just think of it as spending time with a friend, not as some big, intimidating thing. You could start with a movie, order takeout, something low-key, you know?”

“You don’t have to force a deep conversation either,” Yeosang added. “Just focus on getting comfortable around each other. Once that happens, the rest will surely follow.”

You bit your lip, considering their advice. It wasn’t like you had much to lose - things were already awkward, and avoiding him clearly wasn’t working. But the idea of initiating something still made you nervous. You were a shy, quiet person, and if the boys hadn't practically adopted you, you probably wouldn't have any friends on campus now.

“Come on, Y/N,” Wooyoung encouraged, seeing your hesitation. “You’re making it a bigger deal than it is. Jongho’s not going to bite. And if things get weird, just laugh it off. He’ll appreciate the effort.”

You sighed, finally relenting as you realised they were right - much to your dismay. “Okay, okay. I’ll try to spend some time with him. But if it gets too awkward, I’m blaming all of you!”

Yunho grinned, giving you a thumbs-up. “Let's wait and see first.”

Wooyoung patted your shoulder, his smirk softening into a more genuine smile. “You’ve got this. And hey, if it turns out he’s as cool as he seems, maybe you’ll end up being great friends - or, you know, more.”

You rolled your eyes at Wooyoung’s last comment but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. By the way, where are the others?”

“Uh, Y/N's getting shy~ Look at her blushing and trying to play it cool!”

“One day, Jung Wooyoung, one fucking day!” you hissed, and if looks could kill, he'd definitely be dead by now. 

The others laughed, and Yunho casually threw his arm around you as he sat down, practically shoving poor San out the way.

“But to answer your question: they're grabbing some food. You hungry?” he asked.

“Very”, you answered. 

“Great,” he smirked. “Gotta tell the others about the incident with your crush too once they're back.”

“Whatever dude,” you murmured, sighing defeated.

Operation: ‘How To Talk To Your Roommate’ was officially starting.

You paced around the living room, glancing at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time. The food you spent ages on - cooking was never a talent of yours, so it took longer than it should have - was set up on the small dining table, and you’d even gone the extra mile, lighting a few candles to create a warm, cozy atmosphere. You’d picked out an action movie to watch too, something random you found while scrolling through Netflix, hoping that Jongho would be a fan of the genre. He certainly didn't strike you as the romantic type of guy.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and with each passing minute your hands got sweater and your heart beat faster. What if this doesn’t go well? What if he thinks it’s weird? You tried to push the thoughts aside, reminding yourself that Jongho never came across as a rude guy in the few months you've known him. Sure, a bit reserved, but so were you. Just relax. It’s not a date. It’s just two roommates hanging out.

You inhaled deeply, straightening out your shirt for what felt like the thousandth time. You were dressed casually but nicely, a nice shirt and some jeans that went perfectly along together. 

The faint sound of footsteps outside the door made you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. You quickly tried to compose yourself, running through the plan in your head one more time. Movie, dinner, small talk. Just act natural. Imagine he was one of the guys. Just a super cool, chill evening together.

The door creaked open, and you turned to greet Jongho - only to be met with a sight that made your brain short-circuit. 

In your defense: you were on your period. Meaning you were super horny these days. Plus… it was Jongho. Sue you for having functioning eyes.

He stepped in, and the first thing you noticed was how the drops of sweat clung to his skin, making your mouth almost water. He was wearing a black tank top that clung to his frame, showing off his broad shoulders and toned arms. A dark beanie was pulled down over his head to keep his sweat-soaked hair in check. He was panting slightly, the evidence of his workout clear as he dropped his gym bag by the door.

You blinked, trying to force your brain to reboot. This was going horribly wrong. 

His eyes quickly scanned the room, taking in the scene - the dim lighting, the candles, the carefully set table. You could see the moment his gaze settled on you, still frozen in place by the door.

“Uh... what's all this?” he asked, his voice filled with surprise as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no coherent words came out. Your mind was spinning, your thoughts all tangled up at the sight of him. All you could focus on was how that damn tank top clung to his chest and the way his arms flexed as he moved. It was enough to make you feel lightheaded, and the fact that you were on your period only doubled every emotion and reaction you felt to an unbearable level.

“I-uh-” you stammered, your cheeks burning as you tried to string together a sentence. "I made dinner... I mean, I tried- I- I mean, it's not a 5 star meal but I'm sure not too bad either… hopefully. W-whatever, it's just food, you know? And I thought we could, um, hang out... since we're, uh, roommates and all... and... uh…”

You could see the confusion on Jongho’s face deepen as you rambled on, his eyebrows knitting together as he tried to follow your erratic train of thought. The more you babbled, the worse it got, and you could feel tears out of frustration build behind your eyes, making your stomach churn.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Jongho asked, taking a cautious step forward, his voice gentle but tinged with concern. 

No. No, you weren’t. And it was your own fault for being so damn anxious over nothing.

You needed to get out of here - away from him, away from this mess of a night. You couldn’t deal with this right now, not with him standing there, looking like every fantasy you’d ever had and more while you were… Well, you.

Shy, awkward, weird you.

“I-I'm fine!” you blurted out, your voice cracking as you backed away toward your room. “I just, uh, forgot something! I’ll be right back! You can eat without me!”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and bolted, practically slamming your bedroom door shut behind you. Once inside, you leaned against the door, your heart pounding in your chest, your breath coming in shaky gasps. 

You sat on the floor with your back against the door, trying your best to calm your racing heart. You wanted to scream, cry, or maybe both. All the effort you put into tonight - cooking, setting the table, choosing a movie - it all seemed like such a waste now. How could you face Jongho after what happened? Or rather didn't happen. God, you stood there completely frozen. How embarrassing. And then you couldn't even talk properly. 

What a fucking loser you were.

Minutes passed, and yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to leave the room. You could hear faint sounds from the living room: the clinking of plates, the shuffling of feet, and the occasional low hum of a voice - probably Jongho talking to himself as he ate. The idea of going back out there made your skin crawl, so you decided to stay put. Maybe he would think you fell asleep or were too tired to come back out. Either way, facing him seemed impossible right now.

Your ego was too hurt.

Just as you were trying to finally move away from the door, a faint rustling sound caught your attention. You looked down and saw a small piece of paper being slowly slid under your door. Hesitant, you picked it up, your heart pounding as you unfolded it.

The note was short, written in Jongho’s neat handwriting:

Thanks for the dinner. It was really good. Hope you’re feeling better soon. Get some rest. Goodnight :)

Jongho.

A small smile stole its way on your lips. He wasn’t upset or weirded out by your behaviour. If anything, he just seemed concerned. It made your heart race, but this time, not out of anxiety.

Gathering your courage after another few minutes, you slowly opened your door and peeked out into the living room. The place was quiet, the table cleared, and the lights dimmed. You expected to see Jongho already back in his room, but instead, you found him asleep on the couch.

He looked peaceful, his head resting against the arm of the couch, his breathing slow and even. He must have dozed off after cleaning up. Your heart softened at the sight, guilt creeping in as you realised he had taken the time to clean up everything by himself while you were hiding away in your room. 

As you quietly approached the couch, you noticed his laptop open on the coffee table. The screen was still on, casting a soft glow over the room. The faint light outlined his peaceful features as he laid sound asleep, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

You glanced curiously at the screen, wondering what he was trying to do before he fell asleep.

There were several tabs open - a mix of school assignments and a music playlist paused midway through a song. But one tab in particular caught your eye: a YouTube account page.

Oh. Oh. 

His YouTube account to be exact. 

You stood there for a moment, your eyes fixed on the open YouTube tab on Jongho's laptop. The username ‘im_finale’ was displayed in the corner, and you could see a list of song covers he'd uploaded, each one with quite a handful of views. You’d heard him singing before - just snippets of some melodies as he cleaned or studied - but you never would've thought he was actively posting covers online. It was surprising, considering how reserved and private he generally was. But at the same time, it also wasn't. 

After all, he studied music just like you.

Curiosity got the better of you and after a brief moment of hesitation, you tiptoed back to your room, closing the door gently behind you. Once inside, you sat on your bed and pulled out your phone. You typed “im_finale” into the YouTube search bar and, sure enough, his channel immediately popped up. The profile picture was simple - a black-and-white image of a piano key, fitting for the kind of channel he had.

You slowly scrolled through the videos. There were a few classic ballads, some more modern pop songs, and even a couple of R&B tracks. Without thinking too much about it, you grabbed your airpots and then clicked on the most recent upload.

The melody of Through The Night by IU started playing, and there was a brief pause before Jongho’s voice joined in, soft and angelic. 

You leaned back against your pillows, closing your eyes as you let the music fully take you in. It was incredible - better than you could ever have imagined, to be honest. A shiver ran down your spine as the soft falsetto hit perfectly, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. This is amazing, you thought. His voice had a way of drawing you completely in, of making you forget the whole world around you.

It was just you, him and the melody in the background. 

When the song ended, you opened your eyes and realized you’d been holding your breath the entire time. The room was quiet again, and you immediately started missing his voice in your ears. You didn’t want the moment to end, so you clicked on another video, and then another.

You spent the next hour or so listening to more of his covers, and before you knew it, your eyes had fallen shut, and your breathing slowed down. 

Jongho’s voice was the only thing your mind still registered. It carried you off into sleep, and there, in your dreams, you were no longer listening to his voice through headphones. Instead, he was right beside you, laying in the quiet of your room, softly singing just for you.

Each word he sang seemed meant for your ears alone, and the warmth of his presence made your heart flutter. In that dream, there was nothing bad, nothing to keep your mind in a frenzy - just the two of you, side by side, his beautiful voice wrapping around you like a gentle embrace.

For that brief moment, nothing else mattered. It was just you, him, and the music.

You didn’t know when you drifted off completely, but as you slowly succumbed to your tiredness, his voice still lingered in your mind, keeping you company through the night.

“And that's it for today. Remember: all of today's topics are very important for the next exam!”

You blinked, slowly waking up from your slumber as the lecture hall buzzed with the noise of students packing up their things. Your head was still groggy, the weight of the all-nighter you’d pulled for an assignment last night catching up to you during the lecture. You were vaguely aware that the professor had been going on and on about some theory or another, but you didn't actually remember a single word. Instead, you'd spent the entire class lost in a dreamlike state, all you could really focus on was Jongho’s voice playing over and over again in your earphones.

It has been a week now since you discovered his secret account, and in that time alone, you spent countless hours listening to his covers over and over again. 

As you sat there, still blinking sleep from your eyes, you felt a presence settle beside you, and without thinking, you mindlessly muttered, “Jongho?”

“Yeah, it's me. You okay?”

You jolted upright, startled at the sound of his voice - not through your earbuds this time, but right beside you. You pulled your airpods out and turned your head, half-expecting to still be dreaming, but there he was, standing right next to you with a slightly concerned look in his eyes.

“Oh my god, you're real,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. You cringed at your own words, your cheeks flushing a deep crimson red. “I mean - uh, hi.”

Jongho's brow furrowed, though there was a small hint of amusement in his expression. “You were completely out for the entire lecture,” he said, his tone soft but teasing. “I was sitting a few rows back, and I saw you… just knocked out. I figured I'd come check on you.”

“Oh god, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes, still trying to shake off the remaining drowsiness. “I was up all night working on an assignment and then… I guess I just passed out.”

Jongho gave you a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah, I could tell. You looked like you were having a good nap though,” he teased gently. “I was thinking… if you want, I could send you my notes from the lecture. I know you missed most of it.”

Your eyes widened at his offer, your heart skipping a beat. “R-really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he shrugged, “I mean, we’re roommates. Might as well help each other out, right?”

You felt a wave of warmth flood your chest, and a big smile stole its way on your lips. You’d been so nervous about him this whole time, but here he was, offering to help you like it was nothing. He wasn't a big, intimidating guy some people made him out to be. He was kind. And cute. So, so cute. “Thanks, Jongho. I’d really appreciate that.”

“No problem,” he replied easily, waiting for you to gather your things. “I can send them over later tonight, or... well, if you want, we can go over them together now?”

Were you imagining things or was Choi Jongho actually getting red in the face right now?

You blinked, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest altogether. “Oh! Uh, yeah, that’d be great. I mean, if you have time? Like- no pressure, dude.”

He snorted, quickly hiding his laugh behind his hand. You blushed again. “I’ve got time right now. Let’s head to the café right outside the campus or something.”

You couldn’t help the little smile that spread across your face. This was your chance to actually spend some time with him, and your nerves were already buzzing with anticipation. You felt like the happiest woman in the world right now.

“That sounds perfect.”

As the two of you left the lecture hall, you found yourself slowly relaxing. Jongho was easy to talk to, much more than you’d expected. Sure, he was still a little reserved, but he had a dry sense of humour and was actually quite the goofball, making you laugh and smile so hard it almost hurt.

But just as you were walking through the campus toward the café, you heard a familiar voice call out, “Y/N!”

You turned around to see Wooyoung, San, and Yeosang walking towards you, their faces lighting up when they spotted you and Jongho together. You spotted Wooyoung's grin miles away already, and you knew you were in for his usual teasing.

You froze next to Jongho, and he sent a questioning look towards you.

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here,” Wooyoung smirked, stopping in front of you two. “Didn’t we have plans today, Y/N?”

Your eyes widened, and a long forgotten thought popped up again. “Oh my god, I totally forgot. We were supposed to meet up at the restaurant, weren’t we?”

San crossed his arms, trying to look serious but failing to hide the playful smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, the others are already waiting there. It's your turn today, but you probably forgot that too, right?”

“…And what if I did?” you mumbled quietly, shying away from their gazes. Truth be told, the last few days have been pretty hectic for you. Getting your assignment done and dealing with your insomnia (again) had taken up pretty much all your time, and the only thing making your day brighter has been Jongho.

Not that you'd ever tell him that.

Jongho glanced between you and your friends. He shifted his weight slightly, his brow furrowed in mild concern. “Uh, do you want to go with them then? I mean, if you forgot… I don’t want to make things awkward,” he said, trying to gauge the situation.

“What? No, it’ll be fine, you can come with us if you want,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “I mean, it’s just dinner with friends. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

Jongho hesitated, looking at you and then back at your friends. “I don’t want to intrude or anything,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t really know you guys that well.”

San stepped forward, his smile wide and welcoming. “You’re not intruding! We’d love to have you. Besides, Y/N talks about you all the time, it's time for us to finally get to know you for real.” 

Your cheeks flushed at that, and you could feel the heat rising. “Okay, maybe not all the time,” you mumbled, shooting Jongho an apologetic look. 

“See? You’re already family now,” Wooyoung teased, throwing an arm around Jongho’s shoulders. Jongho stiffened slightly, clearly not used to the sudden touch, but he didn’t pull away. 

“Alright, let’s get going then,” you said, trying to steer the conversation away from the awkwardness. “I really don’t want to keep the others waiting.”

Together you started walking to your favourite Korean restaurant, just five minutes from your campus. Wooyoung and San kept talking and laughing together, with Yeosang throwing in a comment here and there, while Jongho walked beside you, a bit quieter but smiling at the playful exchange nonetheless.

When you finally arrived, the familiar scent of fried rice and kimchi welcomed you. The restaurant was completely full as always, and you spotted Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho, and Mingi at your usual table, all of them already deep in conversation.

“Hey! Look who finally decided to show up!” Yunho called out, waving you over. His grin was infectious, and you felt your mood lift even more at the sight of your favourite people.

“Sorry! I lost track of time,” you replied, trying to sound casual as you approached the table. “But I brought my roommate along! Everyone, meet Jongho!”

“Nice to meet you, Jongho!” Mingi said, extending his hand for a shake. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

Jongho looked a bit surprised but shook Mingi’s hand with a shy smile. “Nice to meet you too.”

Seonghwa leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “So, Jongho, how is our Y/N as a roommate? Is she loud? Messy? Annoying? You two also study music together, right? How is she in class?"

“Okay mom, let Jongho sit down first,” you laughed, guiding Jongho to the seat right next to you.

Jongho chuckled softly at your comment, and slowly took the seat beside you, though you could still sense a bit of his initial hesitation in his movement. It was probably overwhelming to be surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces all at once. You glanced over at him and shot a reassuring smile. He returned it, his expression softening a little.

Seonghwa leaned in with a playful smile. “So, Jongho, how is our Y/N as a roommate? Don’t think you’re getting away without answering that one!”

Jongho glanced at you, his lips curving into a slight smile. “Honestly, we don’t get to see each other much because our schedules don't quite align. But I can say she’s definitely better than my last roommate. A lot quieter, too.”

San raised an eyebrow. “Quieter? Are we talking about the same Y/N? The one who constantly talks and talks and-”

“Enough, Choi San!”

Jongho giggled. Oh god, that gummy smile and the sound of his slight laughter would be the absolute death of you. “Compared to my last roommate, yes. Trust me.”

You grinned, trying to ignore your rapidly beating heart. “You’re making me sound boring.”

“Nah,” Jongho replied, shaking his head. “You’re definitely not boring. Just… respectful. Which I appreciate.”

There was a warm look in his eyes, and you felt your heart skip a beat. But before you could dwell on it, Wooyoung cut in, “So, what’s she like in class? Is she as much of a goody two-shoes as she pretends to be?”

You rolled your eyes and nudged him playfully. “Excuse me, I’m just trying to pass, okay? Not my fault your grades suck-”

“-my grades are just fine, thank you very much,” Wooyoung grumbled. 

Jongho smiled, his gaze flickering to you. “She’s a good student. Serious when it counts, but still knows how to have fun.”

“Wow, I almost believed that,” Yeosang joked, earning a round of laughter.

“What is it with all of you today…”, you mumbled, sighing at their teasing. Hongjoong shot you an apologetic look from the other side of the table.

San raised a shot glass and grinned. “Alright, enough of that. It’s game time. How about Truth or Dare?”

Yunho quickly grabbed the bottle of soju from the table you ordered earlier. “Oh, yes. Truth or Dare, with a twist.” He wiggled the bottle in his hand. “A shot if you don’t answer or refuse a dare.”

Everyone cheered as the game began, with the bottle passed around and the first few rounds filled with harmless dares and easy truths. As the soju loosened everyone’s nerves, the questions became bolder, and the laughter grew louder.

Mingi got asked who from your friends he'd consider for a potential threesome, and with red cheeks the gentle giant mumbled Yunho and that girl in his class he'd been interested in for awhile now, before quickly downing a shot and avoiding everyone's eyes.

Eventually, it was your turn. “Truth or Dare, Y/N?” Yunho asked, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“Truth,” you said, knowing you weren’t in the mood for a dare just yet.

“Describe your ideal type,” Yunho said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair.

You hesitated for a moment, your thoughts racing as you tried to keep your cool. “Well…” you began, looking down at your hands. “I guess I like someone who’s not too loud-”

“-that feels oddly targeted,” Wooyoung mumbled, but you deliberately ignored him.

“And who can be very playful but also serious when it matters. Someone who's kind and has a good sense of humour, even if it's a little dry at times.” You glanced quickly at Jongho before looking away, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Someone who’s hardworking and determined, who takes what they do seriously. Oh, and physically…” you trailed off, your cheeks warming as a picture quickly came to your mind. “I guess I’m into someone with a strong build… someone who’s tall but not too tall, maybe with broad shoulders. And, um… nice eyes.”

“Nice eyes?” San echoed, grinning as he raised an eyebrow. “Anything else?”

“Okay, that's enough!” you laughed, feeling the heat in your cheeks intensify. “You got your answer. I exposed myself enough.”

But, as always, Wooyoung wasn’t letting you off that easily. “Hmm, strong build, nice eyes… sounds like someone at this table fits that description,” he teased, nudging Jongho with his elbow.

Jongho’s ears turned pink, but he quickly composed himself, at least from the outside. “I didn’t realize this was now a matchmaking session,” he said with a soft laugh.

You quickly reached for a shot and downed it, trying to shift the attention away from you and the poor man next to you. “Alright, who’s next?” you said, waving your hand.

“Yeosang, c’mon!” Wooyoung and San shoved the poor man, and all of you laughed as you watched the chaos unfold.

“You're an idiot!” you whined for the fifth time in a row as Jongho carefully guided your wobbling figure along the sidewalk. Jongho’s hand remained steady on your arm, keeping you upright as the cool night air brushed against your flushed cheeks.

“I'm the idiot?” he chuckled, “unbelievable. As far as I know, I'm not the one who forgot their wallet for the dinner they were supposed to pay for.” 

You huffed, your pout deepening as you glanced up at him. “It’s not my fault!” you protested. “I had every intention of treating everyone, and then - poof! My wallet decided to disappear. It’s probably off somewhere having the time of its life without me.”

“Uh-huh,” Jongho replied, his lips curling into that teasing smile you were starting to become very familiar with. “Sure, blame the wallet. It definitely wasn’t the fact that you were rushing out the door half-awake this morning and even forgot you had dinner plans with your friends in the first place.”

“Okay, I’ll admit I was a bit of a mess,” you conceded, shooting him a sheepish look. “But still! You didn’t have to pay for everything, you know. I feel bad about it. It was supposed to be my treat, not yours.”

He shrugged, his grip on your arm gentle but firm as he guided you over a small bump in the sidewalk. “I told you, it’s not a big deal,” he said. “I’m happy to cover it. Besides, I’d rather do that than have you stress out over it in front of the poor barista.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though the fondness in your gaze betrayed your attempt at being stern with him. “But that’s not fair! Now I owe you, and I don’t like owing people.”

Jongho raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You can’t just accept a little kindness from your roommate?”

You felt a rush of warmth flood your chest at his words. “It’s not that I can’t accept kindness,” you murmured, your voice softening. “It’s just… I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you or something.”

He shook his head, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “Trust me, I don’t think that,” he said. “I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t want to.”

“But you paid for eight people you basically didn't know!” you whined.

“Seven,” he said.

“Huh?”

He looked you right in the eye. “I only paid for seven. After all, I know you, Y/N. Perhaps even better than you think.”

You opened your mouth to argue further, but the alcohol in your mind made it difficult for you to come up with any smart remarks.

“Okay,” you said at last, giving in with a reluctant sigh. “But I’m still cooking dinner for the next two weeks. No excuses!”

“Deal,” Jongho replied easily, flashing you that signature gummy smile you so adored. “Do I have to be scared though? You know, because….”

“I had an accident in our kitchen once, Jongho! Once!”

“Yeah, and what if you accidentally kill us with your next accident?”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly with your shoulder as he laughed loudly beside you. “Ha ha, very funny,” you muttered, but the smile on your face was impossible to hide. 

This has been all you wanted.

Talking, laughing, just being with him.

“You’re still awake?” Jongho's voice broke the silence as he walked through the door, his brows rising when he saw you lying on the couch.

“Yeah,” you sighed, keeping your gaze on the TV. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Jongho dropped his keys onto the table and made his way over to you, sitting down at the edge of the couch. “Another rough night?”

You nodded. After a few weeks, the two of you had finally gotten closer, even going as far as sharing a few personal struggles with one another here and there. And when you opened up about your constant struggle with insomnia, Jongho showed you nothing but sympathy and support.

Now, there are little to no secrets between the two of you.

Well… except one.

 “Guess my brain didn't get the memo. Again.”

He frowned, his eyes scanning your tired face. “You should’ve called. I would’ve come back sooner.”

You shook your head. “You were out with your friends. I didn’t want to ruin your night.”

“It wouldn’t have,” he said, his tone soft but firm as he settled in next to you. “Let’s see if I can help.”

Jongho's eyes wandered to the empty spot on the coffee table where your earphones usually sat. "Where are?...”

“My earphones?” you chuckled.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “You always have them, especially when you can’t sleep.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at the memory. “Oh, right. Funny story,” you said, a wry smile spreading across your lips. “I kind of… broke them today.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “How the fuck did you manage that?”

“No swearing, Mr. Choi! A dollar into the swear jar!”

“Goddamn it,” he grumbled, and you just watched him with a big grin on your face as he trotted to a small table across the room and reached into his pockets for some money.

“Anyways,” you began, “I was trying to untangle the cord, but it just had this goddamn impossible knot. So I thought, ‘I’ll just give it a little yank to loosen it up.’” You gestured with your hands to show how exactly you’d pulled on the cord. “Except… it wasn’t a little yank. I guess I don’t know my own strength, because the whole thing literally snapped right in half.”

Jongho let out an adorable giggle as he dropped a dollar into the swear jar, shaking his head in disbelief. “Seems like we're spending too much time together,” he teased, his lips curling into a smirk. “First, you're breaking stuff with your bare hands, and next thing you know, you'll be lifting weights in the gym like me.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “Oh, please. I think I’ll leave the muscle-building to you, Mr. Choi. I don't think I could even surpass Wooyoung.” 

“Well, good thing I’m here to help you out if you ever have to fight him.” He paused, briefly glancing toward the hallway.  But about your earphones, I think I actually have a spare pair in my room somewhere. Want me to go grab them for you?” 

Your eyes widened a little. “You sure? I don’t want to take your extra pair.”

Jongho waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I don’t use them much anyway,” he said, already rising from the couch before you could stop him. “Besides, I’d rather you have something to help you sleep.” He threw you a reassuring look as he headed down the hallway. “I’ll be right back.”

You smiled fondly, letting out a heartfelt sound. 

What a helpless fool you were.

And it didn't even face you anymore.

You heard some rummaging sounds and then, as quickly as he left, Jongho returned, holding a pair of earphones in his right hand.

“Found them,” he said, dropping them into your lap with a smile. “They might not be as good as your old ones, but they should do the trick.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you stared down at the earphones in your lap. “Thanks, Jongho. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” he said, sitting back down beside you. “So, what have you been listening to lately? Anything good?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his question. Oh no. There it was. The one question you’d been dreading for weeks. Because how on earth were you supposed to casually admit that you’d been listening to his covers on loop every night to fall asleep? How could you even begin to explain that hearing his voice was the only thing that seemed to quiet your restless mind? That every time you saw him, all you could think about was his heavenly voice?

You blinked a few times, scrambling for a response. “Oh, um… you know. Just... nature sounds.”

“Nature sounds?” Jongho raised an eyebrow, trying hard not to let out a sound of disbelief, but his lips slowly turning into a grin betrayed him. “What, like rain and thunderstorms?”

“What? No- I mean yeah, exactly!” You latched onto the excuse, nodding quickly. “The sound of rain hitting the window, thunder rumbling in the distance... It’s, um, super relaxing. You should try it out too!”

Jongho let out a chuckle. “You’re telling me that after all the music recommendations I’ve given you, you’re still just listening to… the weather?”

You squirmed under his amused gaze, feeling like you were digging yourself deeper into a hole you no longer could escape. “I mean, who doesn’t love a good rainstorm? It’s... very atmospheric.”

He tilted his head, his smirk widening. “You’re not secretly listening to those white noise apps, are you? The ones with whale sounds and stuff?”

You bit your lip, feeling your face heat up even more. “Okay, fine, you caught me. It’s... whale noises. That’s my secret. I’m a whale sound enthusiast. Go whales… or something like that.”

Jongho’s laughter filled the room, his shoulders shaking as he leaned back on the couch. “Oh my god, I did not see that coming. When you talk with our fellow students about music you always have such an exquisite taste.”

“Don’t judge me!” you whined, though you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “Whale songs are actually very calming, okay? Very... melodic.”

“I’m not judging,” he said, but his smirk told another story, “Just... surprised, that’s all.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, quickly hiding under the covers and putting your newly gifted earphones in your ear.

For a while, nothing but silence lingered between you two.

And while you were finally close to him, not just physically, something dimmed the sheer happiness you should be feeling right now. After weeks of wanting this - an evening alone, just the two of you, with no distractions - here he finally was, so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him. His relaxed smile and the easy way he stretched out on the couch, clearly comfortable around you, made you weak in the knees. You wanted to keep talking, keep him here just a little longer. But another, more pressing urge that you could no longer suppress tugged at you too: the desperate need for sleep.

Again, you glanced down at the earphones he’d handed you, feeling your face heat up at the thought. You knew they’d bring you some relief, and, well… they’d help you finally drift off. But the problem was, you didn’t want him to know just what you’d be listening to. Jongho had given you endless music recommendations over the past few months, and each time, you’d nodded along and pretended to take notes. Yet every night, without fail, you’d go back to his voice - the gentle, captivating sound of his covers that somehow eased every last worry from your mind.

But listening to them now, with him here, just felt… impossible. What if he caught on? Or worse, what if he asked what you were listening to again? You’d already given him the whale-song excuse, and he seemed to find it hilarious. But if he pressed further, if he somehow guessed the truth, you didn’t know how you’d face him.

Would he find it… weird? Perhaps even creepy how obsessed you were with him?

You took a deep breath before turning your gaze back to him. Jongho glanced at you, a playful smile still lingering on his lips as he reclined back against the couch.

“Honestly,” he said, “it’s good to finally just sit and do nothing for once. Feels like it's been ages since we could hang out without something due the next day.”

You let out a sigh of relief, nodding along. “Yeah, really… It’s kind of like I’ve forgotten what ‘free time’ is supposed to feel like.”

He leaned his head back, stretching his arms out with a relaxed sigh. His shirt rose up a little, exposing just the tiniest amount of skin, and you almost went feral.

Almost.

Thank god you had a good poker face. 

“Well, now that we’re free… I hope you’ll be up for some movie nights or coffee runs together. You know, normal human activities,” he said with a slight grin. “We might finally have time for them now.”

You bit your lip, trying not to appear too eager. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

“...Maybe we could even plan a trip somewhere fun. Like a quick weekend thing—hey, are you falling asleep on me?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he noticed your head beginning to droop.

You blinked, trying to fight it off, but the weariness was impossible to ignore. “N-no, I’m still here,” you mumbled, barely coherent.

“Tell me something,” he suddenly said.

“Hm? Like… a sudden deep talk?”

He shook his head. “No, something funny. Something you've never told anyone before.”

You blinked, still caught in that dreamy, half-asleep haze, but his question pulled you back a bit, sparking a soft laugh. “Something I’ve never told anyone?” you murmured, glancing up at him, your mind trying to pull together something coherent.

He nodded, giving you an expectant look, waiting expectantly for your answer.

“Alright,” you said, after pulling something out of your memories. “So, you know the song Falling Like the Stars by James Arthur?”

He raised an eyebrow, chuckling as he nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

“Well…” You cleared your throat, fighting off the urge to blush. “There was a point where I listened to it… let’s just say, an embarrassingly high number of minutes. Like… 4,400 minutes. Just that song. On repeat.”

His eyes widened, and he stared at you in disbelief. “4,400 minutes?!” He laughed, shaking his head. “Are you serious? You listened to the same song for what… almost three days?”

“Don’t do the math!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands as he laughed even harder, his whole body practically shaking. “It’s not like it was all at once! It was spread out over months… I think.”

He grinned, clearly amused. “Alright, alright, I’ll give you that. But I have to know - why that song? What’s the obsession?”

You hesitated, looking away, unsure if you could say it outright. Because it made me think of you, you wanted to admit. But there was no way you could say that.

Because… wasn't it still too early? 

Though you knew - or well, hoped - that there was something, anything, between you, it all felt too fast. 

But maybe even that was just your insecurities speaking again.

“It… just helped me feel calm,” you finally said, settling on something true yet safe. “Like, I could close my eyes and forget everything for a few minutes. It felt… peaceful, I guess. I really needed this at that time.”

Jongho’s expression softened immediately  “I get it,” he murmured. “Music can do that. It’s like… sometimes, you just need a sound that's just for you.” He glanced at you, his expression thoughtful. “I’m glad this was your song.”

“My song…,” you mumbled.

His words made your heart flutter, but your tired mind could no longer keep up. Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and you could barely keep yourself upright. You didn’t even realize you’d started to lean on him until you felt his shoulder beneath your cheek.

“You really are falling asleep on me, aren’t you?” he asked softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You grumbled something unintelligible, too far gone to form words. But as you drifted off, you felt his arm settle around you, warm and steady just like his whole persona, holding you close. The last thing you heard was his soft chuckle and a quiet, barely-there murmur that made your heart race, even in sleep.

“May you dream of the happiest melody, Y/N.”

And you did. Along with his beautiful, beautiful voice.

“Damn, it’s quiet in here today,” you mumbled, glancing around the mostly empty restaurant as you slid into the booth across from Wooyoung, San, and Yunho.

“Probably because everyone else is buried in textbooks,” Yunho said with a sigh, rubbing his tired eyes. “These exams are no joke.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes dramatically. “Speak for yourself. I’m practically living at the library these days. I didn’t sign up for this level of suffering.”

San nodded, looking equally exhausted. “Same here. Every time I close my eyes, I just see formulas. It’s like they’re burned into my brain. At times I feel like I can even smell them.”

“-How the fuck do formulas smell man?!”

You chuckled, trying not to let the mention of exams raise your own stress levels again. Life was horrible, really. After just finishing a big assignment you only got such little free time with Jongho before being thrown into the next stressful time period. “Don’t worry, guys. Spring break is just around the corner. We just have to survive a little longer.”

Wooyoung smirked, leaning forward with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, but by the way, I don’t see you here with Jongho today. What happened? Couldn’t convince your pookie bear to take a break with you?”

You felt your cheeks flush as they all stared at you shamelessly, clearly enjoying your reaction. “He’s just busy with his study group, that’s all. Unlike you guys, he actually does something for his grades without complaining every five minutes.”

Yunho snickered. “Well, then he’s missing out. At least we make it fun.”

San grinned. “Honestly, though, you two do seem to be spending a lot of time together lately. Practically glued at the hip. When are you finally going to confess?”

Your face heated up instantly, and you felt your mouth go dry at San’s question. “W-What? Confess? What are you talking about?” You tried to laugh it off, waving your hand dismissively, but the guys weren’t buying it.

Wooyoung gasped, leaning in closer with a smirk. “Oh my god, you haven’t told him, have you? You’re seriously killing me here! It’s so obvious to everyone else I'm wondering how he hasn't realized it himself yet.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks reddening immediately betrayed you. “It’s not like that, okay? Jongho and I are just...we’re just friends who happen to enjoy spending time together. That’s all.”

Yunho scoffed playfully. “Yeah, right. Just friends. You realize that whenever he’s around, you can’t take your eyes off him, right? You’re not exactly subtle.”

San nudged Wooyoung beside him with his elbow, grinning. “And Jongho? He lights up every time you’re nearby. I've never seen him smile like that!”

“Well maybe that's because you don't know him that well-”

“-Y/N!”

You buried your face in your hands, feeling equal parts embarrassment and frustration. “Can we please not talk about this right now? Seriously, I came here to relax, not to get grilled on my nonexistent love life.”

Wooyoung chuckled, patting your hand reassuringly. Though you sensed he had a lot more to say, he seemed to take mercy on you. “Alright, alright, we’ll stop - for now. But mark my words, if you don’t make a move soon, we’re staging an intervention. It's slowly driving me insane.”

“Alright, so spring break - any plans?” you asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from any more embarrassing teasing.

Yunho perked up immediately. “Yes! Beach trip. I’m craving some sun and waves, honestly.”

“Count me in,” San said, leaning back with a grin. “But none of that hiking or early morning stuff. Or the others will surely complain again.”

They all laughed, nodding in agreement, and the conversation drifted into a comfortable, lighthearted debate over the best spots to visit and various activities to squeeze in. But as they threw out endless ideas, you couldn’t help but think about Jongho, wishing he could join you guys for spring break. The thought of him laughing and unwinding together with the group you deemed family, tugged at your heart. But you weren’t sure if he’d be up for it.

There was a good chance he’d already have plans with his family or his own circle of friends. You weren’t sure he’d be into the idea of tagging along with your friends. After all, he might still choose a quiet week with his family.

Lost in thought, you didn't realize you'd gone quiet until Yunho carefully nudged you. "Earth to Y/N? Thinking about someone in particular you’d like to invite?" His eyes sparkled with that all-too-familiar mischief.

You felt your face heat up again. "W-What? No, I was just thinking it'd be nice to get everyone together, you know? All of us, no stress...and, well, maybe if I were to ask Jongho, it'd be good to have a plan.”

Wooyoung threw his head back in exasperation. "Ugh, I swear if you don’t invite him, we’re doing it for you."

“Fine, fine,” you said, chuckling. “If we can all figure out what we’re doing, maybe I’ll bring it up to him. No promises, though.”

San smirked. “That's all we needed to hear. We'll take care of the rest.”

Just as you all finally settled into comfortable silence, the server arrived with your food, and everyone’s attention quickly turned to the plates being set down. It was exactly what you all needed: comforting, warm, and ever so tasty. For the first few minutes, the only sounds were forks and spoons clinking against plates and contented sighs as each of you dug in.

“Damn, this place always hits the spot,” San mumbled through a mouthful, already reaching for another helping. You just laughed as all of them devoured their plates like animals. “I swear, it’s the only good thing that’s happened all week.”

Yunho nodded, still chewing. “Honestly, if we just survive this semester, we should come back and order everything on the menu to celebrate.”

You agreed, mumbling something no one could understand as you immediately took another bite. The food was too good, and, for a while, everyone focused on just enjoying their meals. Conversations drifted between lighthearted topics - TV shows everyone was watching, the latest music releases, funny memes on TikTok - until finally, you all started to slow down, plates empty and stomachs full.

Leaning back, you stretched a little, rubbing your belly satisfied. “I’m going to hit the restroom before we head out. I’ll meet you guys outside?”

The guys nodded, already beginning to gather their things after paying for the meal. As you slid out of the booth and walked away, you heard Wooyoung’s voice echo teasingly, “Don’t take too long, Y/N! I still want to go and check out that new store at the end of the street!”

You just shook your head, smiling to yourself as you headed down the hall. By the time you returned to the entrance, they were all waiting, bundled up and leaning casually against the doorway.

As you stepped out of the restaurant, you took out your phone, scrolling absentmindedly to catch up on a few missed notifications. A few messages from your friends, Amazon telling you one of the items you want was on sale and so on. The guys were walking just ahead of you, laughing about something Wooyoung had said, and for a moment, you fell behind, trying to type while still watching the road ahead of you.

But then something made you stop short, your thumb frozen mid-swipe.

Right there, on Jongho’s cover account, was a new post - one you weren’t expecting. The title stopped your heart: “Falling Like the Stars.” 

You paused, thumb hovering over the screen as your heart thundered in your chest. Jongho had posted this song - your song. The one you’d told him about so excitedly, just a few nights ago, when he asked you about something you never told anyone before. You could practically hear your own words echoing back at you: “It… just helped me feel calm.”

He’d listened. Jongho had actually listened - and not only remembered but went so far as to cover the song himself. 

The others had started walking ahead, their voices mingling with the busy sounds of everyday life around you as they headed toward the shop Wooyoung wanted to visit. But you couldn’t move. You couldn’t tear your eyes from the screen, where Jongho’s cover account stared back at you.

And at that very moment, you knew. 

You knew that he knew.

“Y/N?”

You looked up, the boys having stopped in their tracks and looking at you with confusion written all over their faces.

“I- yeah. I’m… I’m fine, I just…” Words failed you as you looked at each of their faces, one by one, not knowing how to act, what to say, what to do.

You tried to stammer out an excuse, barely piecing together a coherent thought as your mind raced. “I’m sorry, guys. I just- there’s something I have to do. Right now. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” The words tumbled out, rushed and a little breathless, as if you didn’t say them now, you’d lose the nerve.

And you felt like you really might.

“Look,” you said, “I just… I need to go. I’ll text you later!”

Without waiting, you turned on your heel, your legs already moving before you’d fully registered what the fuck you were doing. 

You barely noticed the familiar streets flying by as you sprinted the few blocks to your shared flat with Jongho. Heart pounding, half from the run and half from the thrill of what lay ahead, you finally rounded the last corner and saw the front of the building come into view.

By the time you reached your door, you were completely out of breath but determined, fumbling with your keys until the lock finally clicked. You pushed the door open, chest heaving, and there he was - sitting at the small dining table, headphones on, leaning over a notebook. He looked up, startled at the sound of the door, eyes widening as he saw you standing there, still desperately catching your breath.

“Y/N?” He pulled his headphones down, brow furrowed. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“S-since when did you know, Choi Jongho?!”

For a second, he remained completely silent. Even his body stopped moving, and he just… looked at you.

And you looked at him.

It was as if time was frozen still.

He slowly shifted in his chair, setting the headphones aside as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.

“It was… when you fell asleep on me,” he began, his voice steady despite the tension hanging in the air. “I carried you to your room, and when I was putting you down, I saw my account open on your laptop.”

His gaze held yours, a flicker of something sincere reflecting in his eyes. “That’s when I knew. And that’s when I decided to post that cover.”

“I-” You suddenly felt the urgent need to defend yourself. And so, with cheeks as red as your favourite type of flowers, you hastily said: “Please don't think I'm obsessed with you or something! I-i seriously didn't know for a long while and- God, this is so awkward- a-and I didn't even mean to find it! If you think I stalked you, I can assure you I really-”

“Y/N-”

“No Jongho, seriously let me explai-”

Before you could even realize what happened, Jongho had already closed the distance between you and was now standing in front of you, tall and strong and commanding, with a look in his eyes that made your heart skip and your knees weak. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and then, without a warning, his lips were one yours, and you were melting away in his arms.

Your mouth willingly opened to his, and your tongues met for the briefest instance before he pulled away, panting and looking at you like a meal he wanted to devour.

“I like you, Y/N,” he said, voice husky and filled with a primal need that mirrored your own. “And I'm honored you like my covers this much. Seriously, I- how could you ever think I'd be creeped out? You've done nothing wrong, silly woman.”

He chuckled, and it made all the tension in your body disappear, and you couldn't help but to hide your face behind your hands and laugh along with him.

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a gentle embrace. You melted against him, his strong body completely enveloping you. You inhaled deeply, letting the familiar scent of him wash over you - something musky yet sweet, with a hint of laundry detergent.

He laid his head atop yours, his hands slowly finding a protective  place on your hips. You both stood in silence for a moment, the world outside completely  fading away. You could hear the soft thud of his heart, steady and reassuring, syncing with your own rapid beats.

“Y/N…” he murmured softly, breaking the peaceful silence after a while. “You know… I actually wanted to quit that account for a while now.” The sudden shift in his tone caught your attention, and you looked up, surprised.

“Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re so talented. You shouldn’t give up on something you love.”

He sighed, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye, his expression serious. “It just… it felt like no one cared. I was starting to think that maybe my covers weren’t good enough. But then I found out you listened to it, and… and it made me realize that maybe not a lot of people might listen, but at least you are.”

Your fingers gently cradled Jongho's face, your thumbs brushing along his cheeks, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. You couldn't help but smile at him, your heart swelling with affection. “You have no idea how much I love your voice,” you said softly. “It’s the only thing that helps me fall asleep at night. I’d listen to your covers over and over again, and they’d calm my racing thoughts. I- I fell for you even before we became roommates, you know? I saw you on campus with your friends, in class and… I… it hit me so fast and hard. And then we became roommates, and then-”

“Psst,” he laid a finger over your lips, and you looked up at him, confused, “You talk too much, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and husky. “When we could be doing this instead.” With that, he moved his hand, sliding it down the curve of your back, making you arch into his touch involuntarily.

In one swift motion, Jongho lifted you off your feet, his strong arms wrapping around you like a steel cage. You let out a startled laugh, quickly turning into a moan as you felt his hard body pressed against yours. Instinctively, you locked your legs around his waist, your arms snaking around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

His lips crashed down on yours, hungry and demanding. Jongho devoured your mouth, his tongue sweeping inside, tangling with yours in a heated dance. You could taste the hint of mint from his toothpaste, mixed with the unique flavor that was purely Jongho. It was a taste you craved for months now, and you eagerly responded, matching his hunger.

Pulling back slightly, he teased your lips, nibbling gently on your top lip before sucking it into his warm mouth. You whimpered, feeling the sensitivity of your lips as he lavished attention on them. His tongue traced the outline of it, making you shiver as he repeated the action on your bottom lip.

“God, I love your lips,” he breathed against your mouth, his voice hoarse with desire. “So soft and responsive.”

You giggled, a little breathless, as he continued to pepper kisses along your jawline, nipping and sucking gently. “I love your mouth too, Jongho,” you managed to say between kisses. “And your voice... it drives me wild.”

He chuckled, the vibration of his laughter tickling your skin. “Oh, I know, baby. But… you haven't heard anything yet, baby.”

With that, he set you down gently, his hands roaming over your body, mapping every curve and dip. He worshipped your body with his touch, his fingers trailing fire along your skin. He unbuttoned your blouse slowly, revealing your lace bra, and you shivered as his fingertips brushed against your exposed skin.

“Fuck, you're so beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes dark with desire. “I want to touch every inch of you.”

You reached for the hem of his shirt, eager to explore his body as well. As you pulled it over his head, your breath caught at the sight of his strong chest and arms. His skin was warm and smooth, and you couldn't resist running your hands over his muscular frame.

“Feel how hard you make me,” he groaned, stopping your exploring hands and instead guiding them to the prominent bulge in his pants. You gasped at the size of his erection, feeling the length and thickness through the fabric. “I've been waiting to be inside you, Y/N. To feel your tight pussy around my cock.”

Your core clenched at his words, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. “I want that too, Jongho,” you whispered,”I- ah, I want to feel you, all of you.”

He wasted no time in removing your clothes, his skilled hands efficiently unfastening your bra and sliding off your pants. Soon, you were both naked, standing in the middle of the room, desire burning in both your eyes.

Jongho's hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, making you arch into his touch. “Ah I see, my girl likes when I play with her nipples, doesn't she?” he whispered, his breath hot in your ear. “Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

“I-I want you," you panted, reaching down to stroke his rigid length. “I want to feel you inside me, to ride you, to taste you…”

He groaned, his body trembling at your touch. “Then take me, baby. Show me how much you want me.”

Guiding you to the bed, he laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours. He kissed you deeply, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of the passionate dance you already took earlier.

Straddling his hips, you positioned yourself above his throbbing cock, feeling the head nudge against your wet entrance. And then, slowly, you sank down, taking him inch by agonizing inch, your inner walls stretching to accommodate his impressive size.

“Oh, fuck,” Jongho hissed, his hands gripping your hips as you descended. “You're so tight, Y/N. So wet and hot.”

You moaned, feeling incredibly full as you took him all the way inside. You sat still for a moment, adjusting to the sensation of being completely impaled on his thick shaft.

“Move, Y/N,” he urged, his voice strained. “Fucking ride me, baby.”

You began to move, slowly at first, rising and falling, taking him in and out of your heated core. As you picked up the pace, Jongho's hands roamed over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples, and leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake.

“That's it, baby,” he growled, his eyes fixed on where your bodies joined. “Fuck, you look so sexy riding me.”

His words spurred you on, and you quickened your movements, your hips rolling as you rode him as hard as you possibly could. The room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, your moans, and Jongho's husky encouragements.

“That's it, take all of me,” he grunted, his hands gripping your thighs, guiding your movements. “You're so tight around my cock, Y/N. I'm gonna come so hard inside you.”

Your body was on fire, every nerve ending alive with pleasure. You leaned forward, your hands bracing against his chest as you quickened your pace, driving him deeper with each thrust.

“Yes, Y/N, just like that,” he groaned, his hips rising to meet your downward strokes. “Fuck, you're so tight,” he panted, sweat glistening on his forehead. “I can feel every inch of you squeezing me. You're gonna make me cum so hard.”

You could feel the pressure building in your core, the pleasure mounting with each and every thrust. Your body trembled, your muscles clenching around his thick shaft as you rode him with abandon. The sensation was overwhelming, almost making you drown in it entirely. 

“Jongho, I'm so close,” you gasped, your voice breaking, “I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-”

“Yes, baby, cum for me,” he urged, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples. “Let me feel you cum around my cock. Let me feel you milking me dry.”

The sensation of his fingers on your nipples was the final push you needed. Your body tensed, your vision blurring as the orgasm ripped through you, wave after wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you. You screamed his name, your voice echoing in the room as your inner muscles clamped down on his shaft, milking him with desperate, rhythmic pulses.

“Jongho! Oh, God, Jongho!”

He groaned in response, his body shuddering as he came, his cock pulsing deep inside you. His hands tightened on your breasts, his nails digging into your skin as he spilled his release, filling you with hot, thick spurts of his seed.

You collapsed onto his chest, your body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. His arms wrapped securely around you, holding you close as he panted, his heart pounding against your ear.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You're incredible. I've never felt anything like that.”

You nuzzled into his neck, your breath warm against his skin. “Neither have I,” you murmured, “That was... amazing.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “We're not done yet, baby,” he said and you lifted your head, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. “Oh, really?” you asked, your voice dripping with anticipation. “What do you have in mind?”

A low chuckle escaped him. “You see… for that, you might have to cancel any plans you might have for the upcoming spring break, because in no fucking world am I gonna let you leave this goddamn apartment before I haven't tried every position that exists out there.”

You feigned a pout, placing a hand over your heart in mock despair. “Oh no, what will I tell the boys?”

“I'll make sure to come up with a very, very believable excuse for them, baby.”

[yesimwriting]

Pulling Away

A/n did i write smut for once? yeah. also timeline wise is this perfectly accurate? it’s iffy,, but this fic isn’t about the plot too much so it’s okay

Summary: You’re not the only one that’s feeling a little territorial thanks to the influx of people you’re around in Jackson. 

warnings: 18+, implied age gap, no condom, a tiny bit manipulative if you squint, brief mention of losing virginity.

----

He’s not a force of nature, no matter how hard he might pretend to be for the sake of those around him. Joel can’t actually change anything. So the shift in temperature you feel as Joel stills has to be a byproduct of what’s in your head. 

The kind of burning cold that better fits a fever runs through you and you hate yourself for it. This isn’t the first time you’ve been delusional when it comes to him. 

You’re working off of a quarter of his face against low lighting. It doesn’t make sense for you to be able to feel so much from the little of him that you can see. It’s not anger. Or at least, not just that. There’s definitely a subdued rage radiating from him, but it’s undercut by something that punches you straight in the gut. 

Maybe you’re being a little unfair, but you have a right to it at this point. You can’t follow him around blindly like some kind of puppy forever. Especially now that you’re both settled enough to be able to think of things outside of pure survival.

“Ellie’s asleep.” A flat observation that you can’t explain. Maybe it’s the need to break the silence, or maybe it’s a genuine attempt at making things feel normal. You two should still be able to talk. You never wanted that to end. “Swore she wasn’t tired, but passed out as soon as her head touched the mattress.” 

Joel lets out a small sound from the back of his throat. It’s a spike in the atmosphere. “Think I’m gonna go to bed, too.” You don’t understand your awkwardness or the urge to create distance. It’s not like Joel would hurt you, but then again, the buzz of adrenaline doesn’t seem to be coming from a place of fear. It’s an uneasy burning that worsens when you raise your eyes enough to meet his. “Night.” 

The one word is a little better and somehow so much worse. Not aggressive or trying to make things better. It’s just there. Civil. 

When he says nothing, you take it as your sign to call it a night. Tomorrow could be better. Sure, your rocky dynamic might be going through growing pains while you set boundaries that should have been established long ago, but you’ll likely survive this. You’re all staying together in the same house in Jackson for the time being and you both care too much about Ellie to separate over something small. 

Even if Joel won’t directly admit to it, the part of your relationship that feels like co-parenting is sacred. That’s part of the reason why the feelings you’ve been fighting with yourself to dismantle are so complicated. He cares about Ellie more than he wants to admit and the last thing you need right now is to tear away the little stability she’s finally been given. Not over a few awkward conversations and stiff moments. 

The weird irony that vaguely reflects the issues of the world before isn’t lost on you. If someone were to squint at the situation, you’d seem like a wife trapped in a marriage for the sake of her children. Maybe if it was happening to someone else you’d have enough energy to find it funny. 

You turn carefully, like a too loud squeak of your shoes could be what snaps the thinning thread tying you two to a hint of casualness. You don’t need to pass him to get to where you’re sleeping. The three of you had been set up in a space that allowed for each person to have their own room. It’s like that in theory, but in practice it’s more like Ellie’s room, Joel’s room, and the spare. 

A comfortable enough bedroom that you’ve maybe spent the entire night alone in twice in the weeks you’ve been here. You can’t even pretend that you keep the few things you own in there either. Joel’s an even lighter traveler than you, so slowly your items made their way into the drawers in his room. Now, your room is basically just where you go to change into and out of sleepwear.

You’ll get used to it, used to the draft that originally led to you giving up on rocky sleep the first night you ended up sleeping next to Joel. Your dreams kept you up even more than the cold, but when Joel’s drowsy voice called out to you in the dark, asking why you were awake, you blamed the night’s chill. That’s how it first happened. 

It was a mistake you should have never let turn into habit. You’re correcting it now. Setting boundaries to prevent heartbreak. It’s only a matter of time considering the way the women here look at him.

“Since when do you sleep in there?”

His voice is so gruff it instinctually freezes you. Any sarcastic comment at the back of your throat vanishes immediately. The both of you are fully aware of how you end up each night, but it’s a boundary in itself not to mention it. You’re not sure if it’s more him or you, but what happens at night and early in the morning is never mentioned.

It’s a dip into another reality. A space where Joel’s a little lighter, almost more open. Sometimes he’ll drag your arm with him when he moves onto his side, a silent way of asking you to stay close. On the best nights, he’ll joke about it, letting your limbs meld together under a blanket and swear he’s just trying to keep you warm out of the kindness of his heart. 

His humor is the worst. The kind that some might justify as a result of years of it being at a stalemate for years considering the tragic state of the world, but you know better. They’re the kind of jokes that take a second to settle because of his general exterior, but are meant to be so dumb they force out a smile. In another life, the little comments are dad jokes.

The peace bleeds into the mornings now, he’ll keep the closeness and remind you that you don’t have to get up immediately by mumbling something about Ellie still being asleep. Like she’s the only thing significant enough to get you two to return to reality. 

You’re convinced that these moments exist because neither of you mention them. He’s crossing a line you didn’t realize meant so much to you and he’s being dramatic it, too. It’s not the rarest thing for you to ‘attempt’ to sleep in your own bed. Sure, you’re more likely to lay in that room for a few hours on nights where Ellie stays up a little later, but this isn’t the strangest thing you’ve done. 

He’s ripping any chance of returning to that separate world away from you. It stings more than it should. “Thought I’d give it a try,” you voice is too low, too defensive, “It’s not a big deal.” 

The defense sounds so weak in your own ears, you don’t even want to imagine what he took from it. “Bullshit.”

His voice comes out in such a low huff you feel it more than hear it. If the sound had felt any less dangerous, you would have pretended to mistake it for another wordless grunt. Your lips part slowly as your mind struggles to create any kind of logical response. 

Pretending is clearly getting you nowhere. The only reason you ever pretended it would was pure delusion. Joel has always been able to see through you, through any shift in mood. Even when your lies are better, his ability to sense them is uncanny. 

He turns with no warning. Joel crosses the space between you before you can even fully register his steps. Your body tenses as heat rushes to your face in result of an oddly charged parody of fight or flight. You almost step back, one heel shifting back, but then you meet his gaze and the determined glint behind his eye is enough to melt you into place. 

There’s something else there, too. A focus that pins you into place even further. Holds you there better than the barrel of a pistol could. 

The absurdity of the warmth rooted in your chest should be enough to make the feeling go away. It doesn’t, so you force your lips to part again. You need to say something. Anything. “Joel?” Not that. Not just his name in a voice that feels violently small. 

“You’re pullin’ away.” 

The accusation in his voice leaves no room for argument. You try anyways, “No.” The rest of your thoughts can’t come out while you’re looking at him at the same time. There’s shame in dropping your gaze to focus on your shoes and the little space between you. “It’s not like that.” 

Joel lets out a low sound. The creak of the floor as he steps forward again snaps you out of your trance. You step back in a desperate attempt to keep the space between the two of you equal. Your back hits the wall before you can come close to achieving your goal. It’s a knee jerk reaction that leaves your face feeling even warmer than before. A part of you expects Joel to laugh at the sound or at least comment on it. He doesn’t. He continues forward until his mouth is so close to your ear the warmth of his breath lingers when he exhales. 

He takes a second there, relishing in your stillness. “Don’t lie to me.” Joel pulls away just enough to look you in the eye. “You don’t want to talk to me, you’re talkin’ about leavin’.” The southern drawl of his voice is increasing with his frustration. It’s distracting in a way that feels too convenient. Like he’s doing this on purpose. 

You swallow once. “You found your brother. I have a sister out there, I’d--I think now that things are more settled with Ellie it wouldn’t be the worst thing for me to look for her.” 

“And you don’t want us goin’ with you, but you’re more than willing to let the guy that’s always lookin’ at you--” 

“Oh my god, is that what this is about?” You are insane. Of course his issue is who mentioned it. John knows travel, leaves Jackson and comes back in one piece when he needs to. He wouldn’t be the worst person to have with you if you did want to start a rudimentary search for your sister. “I didn’t make any plans with John, it just came up.” 

“You don’t want us goin’ with you.” 

Your throat feels dry. The thought of it makes you feel cold. You haven’t seen your sister in a few years and so much has changed. You’re no longer in the QZ and your sister has no way of knowing that. She can’t reach out if there’s trouble or good news and she has no reason to assume that you’re safe. You know where she lives, and if she’s not there, you know a few of her usual spots. She doesn’t typically stray too far from her bubble. It wouldn’t be a long trip, just long enough. 

Long enough to give you some space. Long enough to remember what it’s like to not be around Joel all the time. Long enough to feel less about him. 

And you’d come back. You wouldn’t just walk out of his life and Ellie’s forever. The little bit of space you’re trying to get would make it easier for you to stick around in the long run because it’s the only way you can think to get rid of the feelings that are trying to ruin everything. 

“We haven’t been here that long and Ellie’s finally starting to feel settled. I don’t want to drag her out of that yet and make her feel like her entire life is just going to be her being dragged around the country.” 

Your words are a jumble, rushed together in a way that makes the honesty of them less effective. It’s a good point. Ellie just called her room hers the other day and even asked about moving the bed against a different wall.

Joel lets out a low breath, eyes hardening. “You’re right. She’s settlin’ and she needs you.” He knows he’s hit his mark when you don’t respond. “How do you think she’s gonna take the news that you’re leaving?” 

“Leaving to visit my sister.” You struggle to swallow. “Temporarily. It’ll take less than two weeks.” 

His lips pull into a frown as his eyebrows together. Moody and brooding. The look you’ve openly referred to as his old man scowl. “With John.” 

Ugh. This again. Why does it matter? Yes, John will be there, but it’s not like it’s just you and John. Your sister isn’t that far and she has access to supplies that aren’t common, she has an understanding with people that have easy access to medical supplies. 

But even if it was just you and John, it doesn’t matter. There are a lot of areas in which you factor in Joel’s opinion, but this is definitely not one of them. You two aren’t together and with the way he does nothing to show any discontent when the girls here start to look at him, he definitely doesn’t need you keeping his bed warm at night. 

“If I go, he wouldn’t be the only one there.” The fact that you’re trying to justify John’s presence leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You’re a grown woman, free to associate with whoever you want. You might jokingly call him your old man from time to time, but he has no right. “And if even if he was, what does it matter?” 

His jaw locks and the downwards tilt of his chin erases the little bit of confidence you’ve managed to build. “You’ve seen the way that boy looks at you.”

You have to bite your tongue to avoid from blurting out that he’s also seen the way majority of the women you see on a daily basis look at him. Joel’s also exaggerating. John does not have any feelings for you, and if he did, it wouldn’t matter. It’s not like you see John as anything more than a friend. But even if you did--it is not his business. At all. 

“He doesn’t.” There’s little point in saying that, Joel’s not one to have his mind so easily swayed and he’s been wary of John since the beginning. Sometimes it even feels like the more you insist that he’s a good friend, the more Joel seems to dislike him. “And if he did, it doesn’t matter.” 

Your words feel like a retreat they shouldn’t need to be. Small, the meaning of the sentence compacted and straining against the limited syllables. A part of you expects Joel to understand what you do mean. That it doesn’t matter because it takes two interested parties to form any kind of relationship. That your mind isn’t even there in terms of feeling safe...that the only person who has ever made you feel safe enough to imagine anything beyond friendship is right in front of you. 

For the first time, Joel doesn’t pick up on the relevance of what isn’t said. You can feel his lack of understanding in the way he moves, placing one hand on the wall, near your head. You blink, trying in vain to explain the motion, explain his proximity. He’s caging you in. 

The heat of his body is practically inescapable, amplified by the way he smells. Joel showered a little earlier, his natural scent combining pleasantly with that of plain soap. After so many nights next to him, you would think you would have developed a tolerance. You haven’t. And even if you did, you doubt it’d matter...this is different. Dizzying. 

“Doesn’t matter?” 

He’s somehow even closer and somehow not touching you. The realization that that’s the worst part of this leaves your stomach fluttering. You need the feeling gone, so you force out the first words that come to mind, “It matters as much as all the girls that look at you like that.” 

It feels more bitter than it comes out, leaving a metallic taste on your tongue. You need out. You need space. You need sleep. Joel’s silence feels like opportunity, so as subtly as you can you try to shift away from the wall. Your back is off the wall for less than a second before you’re pushed back against it. 

Your body hits the wall before you can realize that Joel’s hand is on your hip. There’s too much surprise for that fact to settle, so you look up at him almost bewildered. You expect him to let go or at least look somewhat apologetic. He does the opposite, moving the hand on the wall under your jaw and closing the distance between you in a motion so quick you can barely register it. 

His mouth is on yours before your mind can catch up. It makes no difference to him. He’s rabid in his patience, taking what he wants without forcing your lips to part. His hand squeezes your hip and all at once it connects. You gasp and Joel pins you to the wall even more securely, deepening the kiss with an expert’s ease. 

It lasts until you can’t breathe and ends with his teeth grazing against your bottom lip as he pulls away. “All of this,” the words are exhaled lowly, “’Cause you’re jealous.” 

The kiss left you so light headed your first instinct is to just agree. To not think and do or say whatever you need to in order to get him that close again. But his tone is too sure, too teasing, and the implication isn’t something he can just get away with. “Jealous?” His smugness is hard to take with him holding you against the wall like this. It’s too vulnerable, like this might be some kind of game to him. It makes you feel transparent. Hollow. “Fuck whoever you want, I don’t care.” 

It’s like you’ve said nothing until Joel has the audacity to squeeze your hip. “Whoever I want?” His hand shifts up your hip, your shirt moving with him. “Hm.” His hum settles beneath your skin, effectively silencing you as his eyes take their time raking over your face and down your body. “Those were some big words from you.” 

Heat rushes to your face. It’s ridiculous--you curse more than that on a regular basis. He’s playing into context, too aware of what he’s doing. The urge to push burns twice as hard as buzzing in your chest. “They’re true. We’re not--we’re not anything, so if I want to go with--” 

“I’m not losin’ you.” There’s a desperation in there that comes out so hard it circles back to vulnerable. “You wanna go see your sister, we go see your sister. That’s how we got through everything else.” The hand on your hip moves down, his fingers dipping beneath the elastic waistband of your shorts. You hate yourself a little for the way your breath audibly catches. “Understand?” 

His hand lowers even further, long fingers pressing against the fabric of your underwear. You’re not breathing right and you can’t bring yourself to care. The only thing you can think of is closer. “Y-yes.” 

“’Yes’ what?” No sympathy in his voice or anything that would give away that he has a hand shoed down your pants. 

His touch picks up pace, rubbing against you until a whimper escapes your lips. “Yes, sir.”

Joel moves his hand away with no warning. The whine that escapes your lips doesn’t feel like your own. He’s barely touched you and you’re already like this. “Barely touched you and you’re already listening.” He hooks two fingers in between the band of your underwear. “Should’ve done this awhile again, then.” 

You’re burning all over, the only thing you can manage is a quick, “Shut up.” It lacks any bite. 

He pulls at the band of our underwear, letting it snap back into place. If you didn’t know any better, you’d consider the flash of something softer across his face as amusement. “If you want me to stop, you’ve gotta tell me.” 

Your nod feels desperate. Your entire body feels desperate. For the way he kissed you, the way he touched you. “I-I’ll tell you.” He’s still not moving, not doing anything. It’s some sort of punishment. It has to be. “Joel...” 

“You going to say ‘please’?” 

You have half a mind to tell him to fuck off, but then his fingers hook around your underwear again. A promise. “Please, Joel.” This is all unfamiliar but you trust Joel to get what you want, what you need. “Need you.” 

With no warning, he yanks down your shorts and underwear. They fall down your legs and you blindly kick them to the side. “Need me?” He tilts his head down, pressing an open mouthed kiss against your cheek, then two to your jaw. “Need me where, sweetheart?” 

God. Anywhere. Everywhere. Your desperation reminds you of how incredibly unfair it is that you’re already down to just our t-shirt and Joel’s still fully dressed. You move your hand slowly, carefully tugging at whatever piece of clothing on him you can reach. 

He’s unimpressed. “C’mon, use your big girl words.” His hand is in between your thighs, his fingers teasing at your entrance in a way that makes it impossible to focus on anything else. “You were usin’ them just fine a second ago.” 

“Joel,” he kisses your jaw again, forcing away all train of thought. It has to be intentional. “Joel,” again, too soft. 

“I know,” he exhales the words against your neck, “I know, sweetheart. Need me to take care of you.” Joel doesn’t wait for a reaction, just pushes his fingers fully into you. You gasp too loudly, Joel moves his free hand over your mouth. “Be a good girl and be quiet. Can’t wake up Ellie.” 

Shit. How did you not think of that? “You’ll be good and quiet for me? Let me stretch you out a bit first?” There’s a knot in your stomach that’s slowly taking over all of your senses. As long as Joel keeps working at it, you could promise him anything. You nod against the palm of his hand. 

You bite your tongue to keep from whimpering too loudly. “Need you to relax,” he presses into you even more firmly, “Get you ready for me.” 

He slowly eases his hand off of your face. “Joel, please.” You’re not even sure what you’re asking for, you just know you need more. You want him to consume you entirely. Feel him until he’s all there is.

You hear the sound of a belt buckle and his jeans shifting. Instinctually, you move a hand towards him, wanting to help, wanting to feel him. “There’ll be time for that, right now it’s about you.” You’re about to argue when he skillfully adds another finger. Fuck. “You’re tight,” he breathes, “No one’s ever touched you here?” 

His fingers curl inside of you and you have to burry your face into the fabric of his shirt to keep from crying out. “Only you.” 

“Look who’s found her manners.” He’s picking up the pace and smoothing down your hair as you squirm against him. “Should’ve done this sooner.” Just as the coil in your lower stomach tightens, Joel takes his hand back. 

You push yourself off of him, staring at him with an expression you know he’ll consider pouting. “Why’d you--” 

“Because I want you to remember this.” He pushes you back to the wall, pressing his body against you. The head of his cock brushes against your entrance. With no warning, he pushes into you. Your sharp gasp overlaps with Joel’s low groan. “Y’need a man to fuck the attitude out of you.” He moves slowly, the friction unbelievably overwhelming and somehow not enough. “That boy wouldn’t know what to do with you.” 

Joel presses you further into the wall, sinking into you as deep as possible before pulling out just to sink back in. His pace is even until his breathing picks up. You’re a mess against him, hiding your face in his chest when he starts fucking you with full force.

“You’re squeezing me so good.” Joel practically pants the words into your skin. “Fuck, ‘m going to--you gonna finish with me, sweetheart?” 

Your mind is mush, you can barely nod against him as his thrusts start to lose their focus. You’re pushed over the edge as Joel’s teeth graze against your neck. He pulls at your orgasm, dragging it along until your legs are jelly and he’s pulling out in order to not finish inside you. 

The two of you stay holding onto each other for what feels like a long time and not enough. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, okay?”

You pull your head off of him enough to look him in the eye. “Not without you.” 

He smiles, lines that you can imagine kissing forever etching themselves into his skin. “That’s my girl.” Joel runs a hand up and down your back fondly. “Let’s go to bed,” he presses a kiss against your jaw, “Give me the space to properly appreciate you.”

The thought makes your body burn all over again. “You sure you aren’t tired out, old man?” 

Joel huffs out what’s almost a laugh, “We’ll see who’s tiring who out, sweetheart.” 

[virgoilluminati]

Hospitality at its Finest

a Jude Bellingham oneshot

Inspo: Basically i have the shittiest job ever, and the only thing that got me through it was thinking about how jude would comfort me at the end of a long shift. I feel like a lot of you gurlies can relate so enjoy ☺️

You had had the worst day.

Probably the worst day you'd had in years

And the only person you could blame was your boss.

He was an A grade arsehole. He only cared about how much money your restaurant made. How it made him look in front of the restaurant owners.

He didn't care about your feelings, how crying had become a normal part of the shift or how every time he walked in, your stomach tied in knots.

Today was an exemplar of it.

At the beginning of the shift, everything was fairly normal. You were supposed to start at 12pm, but you had come in early, caring for your colleagues and knowing that they would need the extra staff for the new delivery. As you mentally prepared yourself for the shift, you started putting away the new stock and organizing the kitchen.

Quickly looking at your phone one last time, you clocked into work before admiring your lock screen with Jude. After all, all of this was for your future.

As you made your way to the shop floor, it was dead silent. So silent that you knew the second you opened the door in the backroom, you'd be greeted with a mess. But you didn't expect what you were greeted with. Stacks of dishes towered precariously, remnants of ingredients sprawled across counters, and an unmistakable odor of burnt food lingered heavily in the air.

Your closest colleague Haley was on the ground, covered by stock boxes. When she see's you walk in, she smiles, but the exhaustion in her eyes betrays her forced cheerfulness. Without wasting a moment, you rush to help her up, setting the boxes aside.

"Wha-"

"Don't ask. It's Jamie. He overestimated our multitasking skills again. We could use all the help we can get right now."

You nod, taking in the chaotic scene. Rolling up your sleeves, you dive into the mess, prioritizing tasks in your head.

The second the doors to your restaurant opened, a wave of eager customers flooded in, adding to the already hefty workload. You had only just made your way out of the heavy stock room before you were serving your first customer, your manager already shaking his head.

You grabbed a notepad, scribbling down order after order with precision. As you do such, you realise that no one has set up back of house, and whilst everyone was dealing with the stock, you'd be doing both positions, already.

Oh gawd it was going to be a long day.

The next issues happened just after the lunchtime peak. Your manager—ever the perfectionist—decided to go out and back home to get changed. He didn’t tell any of you, just putting your colleague Hetty in charge.

Now, for all of the reasons you loved Hetty, she was a terrible team leader. She spent half of the time bossing everyone around, whilst the other half chatting and gossiping about the managers. So when you realized that she was in charge, you knew it was going to turn sideways.

What made it even worse was halfway through the shift you suddenly got cramps. It could only mean one thing: your period.

You knew better than to miss your orders, so you managed to deal with the cramps and act normal. But as soon as anyone’s order was mentioned, you gritted your teeth. Deep down, you could feel your cramps churning up. But you managed to keep your cool. Or at least until Hetty began barking orders at you, telling you that while you were making a cheesecake, you also needed to clean the station, get the ice cream ready for service, and get the lunch menu ready that was just coming out.

Needless to say, you didn’t really listen to her orders, instead focusing on the four cheesecakes you needed to bake, twenty lusty turkeys, and the rest of your workload that’s coming in. You’d maybe gotten halfway done with the orders when suddenly your stomach muscles tightened and spasmed at the same time. It hurt to breathe in, so you tried to breathe in as slowly as possible, praying to God that the next person who insulted you would take it back as soon as they said it.

Now, you’re screwed, because between the pain in your stomach and the pressure from the customers, it was overwhelming. To make matters even worse, your restaurant owner Jiah, a certified misogynist, stood next to you as you prepared each of the dishes. Every mistake you made, or anything you said to Hetty, was being monitored. At first, it was fine—still stressful, but you were so preoccupied that you didn’t care. Until you accidentally spilled three of your cheesecakes on the ground.

Every time someone shouted at you, it felt like someone was digging into your sides. Your vision blurred slightly as you bent down to clean up the mess. As you rose, you saw Jiah’s disapproving glare. You braced yourself, knowing a reprimand was imminent.

“Do you even know how much those cheesecakes cost?” Jiah hissed, his face reddening.

"Sorry-"

You nodded, biting your tongue to keep from snapping back. Losing your temper wouldn’t help anything, especially not with Jiah watching your every move. Taking a deep breath, you focused on the tasks at hand, prioritizing the most urgent ones. Hetty’s voice cut through the noise of the kitchen, but you tuned her out as best you could. There was no time to waste arguing with her or explaining why you couldn’t drop everything to clean the station right this second.

The cramps were relentless, and you clutched your stomach briefly, willing the pain to subside. A few of your colleagues noticed and offered sympathetic looks, but they were just as swamped as you were. It was clear that everyone was feeling the strain of the lunchtime rush.

You managed to get the cheesecakes into the oven and started on the turkeys. The repetitive motions of seasoning and prepping gave you a momentary distraction from the pain. But it wasn’t long before Hetty was back, barking orders again.

“You still haven’t cleaned the station! And where’s the ice cream?” she demanded.

“Working on it,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. But the frustration was building, and you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You blinked them back, determined not to let anyone see you break down.

Finally, a small reprieve: the cheesecakes were done, and you could focus on plating the desserts and getting them out to the customers. But just as you thought you might be able to catch your breath, Jiah appeared again. He didn’t say anything, but his disapproving glare spoke volumes.

You could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move. When you accidentally spilled three of your cheesecakes on the ground, Jiah’s look was withering. He didn’t need to say a word; his expression made it clear he was counting this as yet another mark against you.

“Get it together,” you heard him mutter under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear. You nodded, biting your tongue to keep from snapping back. Losing your temper wouldn’t help anything, especially not with Jiah watching your every move.

Taking a deep breath, you focused on the tasks at hand, prioritizing the most urgent ones. Hetty’s voice cut through the noise of the kitchen, but you tuned her out as best you could. There was no time to waste arguing with her or explaining why you couldn’t drop everything to clean the station right this second.

Just as it began to calm down again, Jiah's glare disappearing from notion, Hetty came over to apologize for being stressy.

"Sorry for earlier," she said, her tone uncharacteristically soft. "I know I was a bit much."

You accepted her apology with a nod. "It's okay. We were all under a lot of pressure. I was just about to go to the toilet."

Before you could make your way to the restroom, a call came through the kitchen, telling everyone to gather in the staff room. You tried to hold yourself together, though you could feel tears threatening to flow. The cramps were still gnawing at your insides, and the stress of the day had worn you thin.

As you and the rest of the staff assembled in the cramped room, the air was thick with apprehension. Jamie, another manager, stormed in, his face a mask of fury. He didn't waste a second before launching into a tirade.

"I just got a bollocking from the owner! What the hell happened here?" he bellowed. "This is so embarrassing! We've had multiple complaints from customers, dishes sent back, and unacceptable delays. This is not the standard we uphold here!"

His words were like blows, each one landing heavily. You stood there, silent and still, trying to absorb it all without breaking down. The cramps were relentless, making it hard to concentrate on anything other than the pain.

For about forty minutes, Jamie continued his verbal assault, highlighting every mistake and misstep. You could feel the tension in the room, everyone too afraid to speak or move. As he yelled, you just stood there, taking it in, feeling smaller and more defeated with every passing second.

"This has to stop now," Jamie continued, his voice growing louder. "I expect better from all of you. No more excuses. The owner is furious, and honestly, I can't blame him. Today was a disaster!"

With that, he stormed out, leaving the staff in stunned silence. You could feel the tears threatening to spill over, but you fought to keep them at bay. The pain in your stomach and the weight of Jamie's words were almost too much to bear.

Hetty gave you a sympathetic look but didn't say anything. Everyone slowly dispersed, heading back to their stations or taking a moment to collect themselves. You made a beeline for the restroom, finally letting the tears flow once you were safely behind the closed door.

Just as you began to take a couple of minutes to calm down, Jamie pulled you over.

"Hey, I need to ask you something," he said, his tone softer but still urgent. "Are you willing to leave early today?"

You had already had to cut a shift recently, and your hours were pretty low. "I really need the hours, Jamie. I'd prefer to stay."

He frowned. "I need to get rid of some staff because there's too many on right now."

You tried to politely refuse again, but before you could finish, he called out, "Hayley! Do you want to leave early?"

"Sure," Hayley replied without hesitation.

"See, it's not personal," Jamie said, turning back to you. Feeling completely deflated, you turned to get your stuff and clock out.

As you gathered your things, Jamie turned to you one more time. "By the way, you sat down too much today."

You were gobsmacked. "I didn't sit down at all."

"No, you were," he insisted. "And that's not acceptable."

You went to protest again, but he cut you off. "No, you were, and that's not acceptable."

Feeling a mix of frustration, exhaustion, and defeat, you bit back any further response. As you clocked out and walked out of the restaurant, you felt the tears begin to well up again.

By the time you got on the bus, the tears were streaming down your face. You found a seat at the back, hoping no one would notice as you buried your face in your hands and sobbed. The day's events replayed in your mind: the stress, the pain, the unfairness of it all. It felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on you, and you couldn't hold it in any longer.

As the bus moved through the city streets, you cried, letting out all the frustration and sorrow. You knew you had to face another day tomorrow, but for now, all you could do was let yourself feel the pain and hope that somehow, things would get better.

When you arrived home, you tried to wipe away your tears, determined to put on a brave face for Jude Bellingham, who had just returned from football camp. You were emotionally drained but wanted to be supportive and positive for him.

As you walked through the door, Jude was in the kitchen, looking relaxed and cheerful. He noticed your subdued demeanor but decided to wait before saying anything.

"Hey, how was work?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

"It was... busy," you replied, forcing a smile. "But let’s not focus on that. How was camp?"

Jude’s face lit up as he started recounting his experiences. "Camp was fantastic! We had some intense training sessions and a lot of fun. You won’t believe the prank Trent and I pulled on the new guys. We got them to believe they had to complete this ridiculous obstacle course to join the team."

He continued with animated enthusiasm, "And then there was the friendly match against a local team. Trent and I were trying out these new moves, and it was amazing to see the crowd’s reaction. We felt like rock stars!"

You nodded and smiled at the right moments, trying to engage with his excitement, but your mind kept drifting back to the stress of the day. Despite your efforts to seem interested, you felt a growing sense of overwhelm.

Jude’s stories flowed effortlessly. "Oh, and the camp mascot incident was hilarious. Trent and I ended up in the costume, and we had this impromptu dance-off with the kids. It was one of those moments where you just can’t stop laughing."

As he chatted, you found yourself struggling to keep up the façade. Your responses became more mechanical, and you occasionally glanced at the clock, feeling the weight of your exhausting day pressing down on you.

Jude seemed to sense something was off but kept going. "You know, I was telling Trent about how you and I used to go to that little café downtown. He said he’s been there before and loved it. We should go sometime."

You forced a laugh and nodded. "That sounds great."

As dinner preparation continued, you made an effort to stay present, but the stress from earlier was starting to take its toll. You kept insisting you were fine, even though you felt increasingly overwhelmed.

In the midst of this, you were preoccupied with trying to balance cooking and maintaining a cheerful demeanor. As you pulled a dish out of the oven, you accidentally brushed against the hot rack. The sudden sharp pain in your hand was like a jolt that broke through your emotional walls.

You cried out and rushed to the sink, holding your burned hand under the cold tap, your composure finally shattering. Tears streamed down your face as the pain seemed to trigger a flood of emotions from the stressful day.

Jude, who had been in the living room, heard your cry and the sound of your sobbing. He rushed into the kitchen and saw you with your hand under the tap, tears flowing freely.

"Hey, what happened?" Jude asked urgently, moving quickly to your side.

"I—I burned myself," you managed to say through sobs. "I’m so sorry... I tried to keep it together, but I couldn’t."

Jude gently took your hand from under the tap and inspected the burn. His concern deepened as he carefully wrapped your hand in a clean towel.

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry, m’love. It’s okay—speak to me,” Jude said, his voice filled with concern as he moved to your side.

“What do you mean? I’m okay, I just burned myself,” you tried to explain, though your voice was trembling.

“Y/N, do you think I was born yesterday? I know my girlfriend, and I know when she’s upset. What happened?” Jude asked, his tone gentle but firm.

His insistence broke through your remaining resolve. You burst into tears, the emotional strain of the day combining with the pain of the burn. “I—I had such a terrible day. Jamie was so harsh, and everything seemed to go wrong. I was trying so hard to keep it together, but I just couldn’t anymore.”

Jude’s expression softened, filled with empathy and concern. “No, don’t say that. You’re not stupid. You’re my Y/N. You’ve been through so much, and you’ve handled it with so much strength and grace.”

He gently took your hand from under the tap and wrapped it in a clean towel. Pulling you into a comforting embrace, he continued, “Your a trooper you know.”

You clung to him, the warmth of his embrace providing a much-needed sense of security. Jude held you close, his arms wrapping around you with tenderness. He stroked your hair softly and whispered in your ear, “You’re amazing, you know that? You’re allowed to have bad days and to feel overwhelmed. I’m here to help you through it, no matter what.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, letting the tears flow freely as he continued to hold you. Jude’s soothing presence and gentle touch helped ease the burden of the day. He spoke softly, his voice full of love and reassurance. “You’ve been so strong, but it’s okay to let go and lean on me. I’m here to support you, to lift you up when you need it.”

Jude carefully wrapped your burned hand in a clean towel, his touch gentle but deliberate. He then pulled you into a comforting embrace. “Why don’t you head to the living room and take a breather? I’ll sort out dinner. And try not to make any more of the place look like a disaster zone, yeah?”

You managed a weak smile as you headed to the living room, still sniffling. The sounds of Jude bustling around in the kitchen—pots clattering, the hum of the stove—provided a bit of distraction as you settled onto the couch.

A few minutes later, Jude walked into the living room with his phone in hand and plopped down beside you. He placed his phone on the coffee table and began gently wiping away the tears from your cheeks.

“I don’t want anyone treating you like that,” Jude said firmly, but with a soft edge. “I’ve had a word with the higher-ups about Jamie. It’s not on.”

You looked at him, surprised. “You did? How’d you manage that?”

Jude grinned. “Let’s just say I’m good at sorting things out when it comes to my people."

You chuckled despite yourself. “Well, thanks. I didn’t think you’d go this far.”

Jude gave a cheeky wink. “I was gonna sort it anyway, oh, also, um well now seemed like the perfect time.”

"Jude-"

He pulled out his phone and showed you the screen. “I’ve had a chat with my agent. "

"What?!!"

"Got you a photography gig lined up. It’s something you’ve always wanted to do. Figured now’s as good a time as any.”

You were stunned, your eyes widening. “What-? How-When? How did you even know I wanted this now?”

Jude’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “I’ve been paying attention, love. You think i haven't notice your Pinterest boards? Or your amazon wish list?”

You laughed, a genuine smile spreading across your face. “I don’t even know what to say. This is amazing.”

Jude squeezed your hand gently. “You don’t have to say a thing. Just remember, you’re brilliant, and you deserve all the good things. And if you ever leave me for a glamorous photographer life, just make sure to give me a shout-out in your interviews.”

You playfully nudged him. “Oh, so you’re worried I’ll become too famous for you?”

Jude grinned. "If that means sharing a bit of the limelight, so be it.”

You leaned into him, feeling a mix of relief and affection. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

Jude wrapped his arms around you. “I’m the lucky one. Seeing you happy is what matters to me. Now let’s enjoy the rest of the night. And if dinner turns into a burnt mess, at least we’ll have a laugh about it.”

Jude’s comforting presence and playful banter started to lift the weight of the day, bringing a renewed sense of hope and connection. His support and Brummie humor made the evening feel a lot brighter and more manageable.

[lexirosewrites]

getting ahead of the curve for slick sunday because i've been having thoughts today and i know i'll forget if i wait to send this. brief warning for postpartum depression and mpreg mentions 🫡 (also this was not edited before i sent it in so ignore mistakes haha)

i think this has already been touched on a bit during a past slick sunday, but i'm thinking about omega steve who gets such bad postpartum depression after his and eddie's first pup is born. like, so bad he can barely bring himself to hold them most days. eddie tried to help where he can, and wayne stays with them to help out, but there's only so much the two of them can do. maybe this is during a time where PPD is severely under researched, so not even the doctors they've gone to can give them much more information than they already have. it all makes steve feel even worse. he wanted pups so bad, and now he can't even love the one he has the way he thinks he's supposed to. eddie feels helpless. he doesn't know what to do.

there's one day that steve is left alone with the pup. it's only supposed to be for a couple hours. eddie was at work, and wayne just had to run a quick errand. but steve is almost immediately overwhelmed. his pup is crying and he doesn't know how to make it stop. he feels useless. he's in tears when there's a knock the door, and joyce comes in carrying containers of food. she quickly takes over, offering to take the baby and give steve a break. it gets worse when his pup instantly stops crying in joyce's arms. so when she takes the pup back to the nursery for a nap, steve leaves. just. grabs his keys and walks out the door without a word.

eddie finds him on his way home from work. he's driving his normal route when he sees steves car pulled over on the side of the road near one of the small bridges in hawkins. steve's sitting there, just letting his feet dangle over the edge. eddie panics at first, checking the car and seeing their pup isn't inside. steve isn't holding them. he knows steve has been struggling, so he tries to approach cautiously. he doesn't want to make anything worse. he asks steve what he's doing there, if he's okay. he only gets a shrug and a quiet, "needed out". he carefully asks where the pup is. steve only says, "with joyce."

eddie doesn't get anything else out of steve, but he does eventually get him home. their pup is safe with wayne when they get back, who had beaten them back by nearly two hours and had been anxiously trying to find out where steve had gone. that's the lowest steve ever feels.

he does, eventually, get better. they find things that work, and finally find a doctor who can prescribe steve something that helps. nothing is ever perfect, and steve still has bad days, but it's so much better. and then he gets pregnant again and panics. he takes a while to tell eddie about the pregnancy because he's worried it'll happen again. in the end, everything works out, though. they know more now, and steve is a little more prepared for the fluctuations in his mood and hormones than he was last time. he loves his little family, despite all the obstacles they've had to face.

I'm not crying, you're crying🥲

[fkinavocado]

in which your husband and Harry’s wife dragged you both into a situation you didn’t want to be in, but as it turns out, everything happens for a reason

Loved, heard, seen- Masterlist, Author’s Notes & Warnings 

Part One/ alternatively, read on wattpad

Part Two (word count: 3.4k)

“Hello?” Harry brought his phone to his line of vision, making sure he’d actually picked up the call, “Uhm,... hello?”

“Hi. Is this a bad time?”

Harry racked his brain to place the person’s voice, the fact that he didn’t have the number saved in his contacts made it even more difficult. It sounded awfully familiar, though… “Oh! It’s you!”

She never did give him her name. And neither did he, come to think of it. He only gave her his number before she got out of his car after he drove her home. Just in case.

“You remember?”

Harry sighed heavily. “I wish I could forget everything about that night,” he chuckled nervously. “No offence.”

“... I can't forget, either. You were right.”

“Oh?”

“Listen… would it be too… upsetting, if we met up? You’re the only person that’s been in my shoes that I feel I could open up to about this. It’s been… very lonely, eating at me… Maybe talking would help make better sense of it…”

Harry didn’t have to ponder. He’d wanted the same thing all along. He was glad she reached out to him, since he couldn’t contact her. “Name the place.”

*

Harry wondered if he looked as broken as she did but had just gotten used to seeing his miserable face stare back at him in the mirror every day. It’d been close to a month since the… circumstance that had brought the two of them together. Admittedly, he hadn’t paid close attention to her appearance back then, but, seeing her now, he definitely recognized some changes, albeit subtle. She appeared more frail, her under eyes darker, the polish on her nails chipped off, her lips chapped and bitten, her clothes wrinkled. He observed her over the cup of coffee he was sipping on on that rainy afternoon as she talked about how it’d been like trying to move on from that night.

“You were right. I did know, even then, that this was going to ruin us. But I kept lying to myself, thinking I could just pretend it never happened. Hoping that he’d gotten it out of his system and that things would go back to normal. You know I even dared to believe things would get better? I thought maybe this would put things into perspective for him and make him realize what a good thing he’s got going at home… Was I naive or what?”

Harry furrowed his brows compassionately, “You and I both. Believe it or not, I also hoped for the same. But, assuming things went for you guys the same way they did for us… it wasn’t quite the case, was it?”

She shook her head solemnly, staring into her cup of coffee. “He never asked me how things went on my side. He doesn’t even know I never went through with it. The following morning, he called me at around 11am. That’s… extremely late for him. He’s an early bird, chronically so. He’d been clearly… distracted. So when I told him I’d already taken an uber home he didn’t question it. He then came home and acted like everything was normal. He didn’t talk about it, I never asked him any questions. He didn’t care to ask me any, either… I wouldn’t say we’re pretending like nothing ever happened, because that’s not it at all. This… unspoken, huge thing that happened is always looming over us. Now whenever he’s late from work, he doesn’t even tell me why he’s late. It’s like… I know why. I don’t have to ask. He doesn’t have to tell me.”

“Jesus…”

The woman nodded, fidgeting with the corner of her paper napkin. “Things are better at your end, then?”

Harry almost laughed at her assumption, “To tell you the truth, I don’t even know which of us has it worse. When I got home after I dropped you off, I called her again and it went straight to voicemail for the hundredth time, so I texted her letting her know I went home and to call me to go get her if she didn’t feel like ubering. She never called for me to get her, thank god, but when she walked through the door and I asked her how her ride was she told me the guy had driven her. I was speechless, she’d actually disclosed where she lived, what else did she share with him? Aside from the obvious… Like, was this gonna be a thing now, between the two of them? I had so many questions, but then I couldn’t really say anything, could I? Since I offered to drive you, too. I’m fairly certain their report in that regard was much different to ours though… but even still, I couldn’t get myself to tell her off for it. I mean… he fucked her. Did the fact that he knew where she lived really make it worse?...”

Harry sat back in his chair, forcing himself to take a breather and calm down a bit. He was getting worked up. But when she encouraged him to keep going, and his restless leg wouldn’t stop bouncing beneath the table he gave in. “She was fucking beaming! She wouldn’t stop talking about what a good thing this is for us, how finally she feels like she can breathe, how she can’t believe we waited so long to try this… confirmed that she’d already made plans with this guy for the following weekend. I just froze. I couldn’t believe she was really saying all that. She never really asked me how things went for me, either. She just kept putting words in my mouth. See? Wasn’t it fun? You’re such a lucky bastard, men can only dream they could be in your shoes with their wives giving them this much freedom! Hell, even pushing them to do it! Can you imagine? You’re living the dream, baby.”

“Oh, God…”

“Then… one night soon after that she wanted to play and, brokenhearted fool that I am, I went along with it even though what I really wanted was for us to sit down and really talk about it. But I just couldn’t get myself to open up the subject, mainly because I already knew what her stance on it was and what it would lead to, and I wasn’t ready for that… kept thinking I could try doing this to save our marriage. I’d agreed to it, even though she’d coerced me into it if i’m being honest… but I did agree. I couldn’t blame her for the repercussions, I knew what I was getting into. So I felt like I had to see it through, had to try and make it work… 

“So when she came to me all loving, and I missed her so much, I gave in, I needed to feel like us again… Make her forget about anyone else. Make her only want me. And then… in the midst of what I thought was one of my best sexual performances… she tells me she wants to try something this guy had asked her to do to him and I–... fucking lost it. I jumped out of that bed as if it were on fire. I’m sure I could’ve handled it more maturely but I locked myself in the bathroom before I said something I would regret. She kept pleading from the other side to open up and talk to her, tell her what was the matter. I realized all I had to say to her were hurtful things. I chickened out when I opened the door and saw how genuinely worried she was. She literally has no clue what I’ve been going through since that night… in her head, we’re heading in the right direction and this is only going to bring us closer. 

“So, I asked her not to tell me about any of it, going further, and promised I’d do the same. That I couldn’t handle talking about it. At least not for a while… She agreed, said she totally gets it. And then we went back to bed and I never got to see what that son of a bitch asked her to do to him because ever since, I’ve avoided all her advances. She keeps making little quips such as uh-oh, running out of stamina huh? Save some for me next time. Then she giggles and asks me to just spoon her instead and I just sit there for hours on end mulling everything over while she’s sleeping soundly in my arms.”

The woman sat silent for a long while, visibly saddened. “Jack never initiates sex anymore. Like… at all. I don’t know If I’m glad for it or if I should feel even more hurt. I’m not sure I feel anything at all anymore. I feel… numb.”

“... Me too.”

After a long pause Harry added, muttering, “Fitting name, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Since he’s such a jackass.”

The woman laughed, which made Harry smile in return. He wondered whether this was the first time the two of them had done so since that night. 

“You must have a really nice name, then.”

Harry’s smile lingered. “In that case, I’m sure the same goes for you.”

“You first.”

“It’s Harry.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah. See? Nice names for nice folk. Wouldn’t hear of people with such names going around causing so much heartache, would you?”

“Absolutely not. Felicity is also… fitting in a way. Only cares about her own happiness.”

Harry gave her a look. “You actually remember my wife’s name?”

“Yeah, it’s a rare name, stuck with me.”

“True. And you’re right about her. I’ve always known it… But nobody’s perfect. Thought I could compromise on some stuff. Didn’t realize it would compromise our marriage in the end.”

“That’s… pretty huge, Harry. I know it sounds awful, but hearing you say so valides my own feelings. Like, I worried I was overreacting, thinking my marriage is over because of this. But that’s just how I feel. I can’t see us ever recovering from this mess.”

“Neither can I. It’s killing me on the inside the longer I go along with it. And even if I do speak up about it… I know it’ll never go back to how things were, which admittedly, weren’t great to begin with. This whole thing kinda helped put everything into perspective. She was right, we did need something else, be both did… I was willing to do whatever to please her, but that’s not exactly feasible in the long run. It was just a matter of time before we faced some hurdles. We’re just not on the same page sexually. I was just fooling myself thinking I could deny my own needs and that she could suppress hers.”

“So… what now?”

They both sat in silence for a long while, the coffee had gone cold and the rain outside was pouring even stronger than before.

“It’s inevitable. We have to talk to them.”

“...End it?”

Harry nodded solemnly and when her eyes immediately glazed over and she stifled a sob, he reached his hand out to cover hers reassuringly. He moved to sit on the chair next to hers and eventually wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, bringing her in to rest her head on his own. She tried to keep quiet, not to disturb the cafe’s patrons, and he gently shushed her reassuringly, telling her everything was going to be alright. Willing himself to believe it, too.

*

Almost two weeks had passed when Harry finally decided to text Y/N. He’d been apprehensive about it, knowing she must’ve been hurting, but also, he felt guilty for not going through with what he himself had suggested was inevitable. He hadn’t broken things off with his wife. Worse, he’d actually had sex with her, in an effort to still try and save their marriage. He couldn’t finish though, and he’d never reached full mast. Which prompted her to not get off either. It’d been a mess and it ended in Harry crying in the bathroom afterwards while she probably thought he was finishing himself off in the shower. He’d never felt more miserable in his entire life.

Felicity was away for the weekend with her new boy-toy and Harry was feeling seriously on edge. He contemplated just packing his bags and leaving. It was cowardly of him, to be sure, but he felt like he’d never go through with it and actually leave her otherwise. He couldn’t bring himself to talk to her and end things properly, like a man. 

He felt emasculated in every way possible.

H: Hey. It’s Harry. Been meaning to reach out, hope it’s not a bad time… How did things go?

He was in their walk-in closet staring at his clothes and trying to work up his courage to just grab them off the hangers and toss them into the biggest suitcase he could find when she replied.

Y/N: Hey, Harry. I’m the worst… I couldn’t bring myself to do it : ( I don’t know what to do. I can’t do this anymore…

H: Don’t feel bad. I couldn’t go through with it either. But I can’t go on like this…

Y/N: What do we do : (

H: She’s with him right now. 

Y/N: He’s not been home most nights. It’s over without having to even talk about it. I bet if he came back home and I was gone he’d be relieved at this point.

Harry read Y/N’s last text message before deciding to call her since they were both alone anyway. “That’s exactly what I wanna do. Just pack my stuff and be gone before she comes back. Is that… too cowardly, do you think?”

“It’s not. They don’t deserve an explanation. It’s impossible they don’t see we’re hurting. They just choose to ignore it.”

“Let’s just leave.”

“Harry… if you say that again, I just might do it. Like, right now.”

“Let’s rip the band-aid. Let’s do it. I mean it, Y/N. We can do it. We could do it together. Just… I dunno. Go somewhere and turn our phones off and be there for one another, make sure neither of us caves in and goes back… What do you say?” Harry was pumped. He could feel adrenaline surging through him. The thought of actually doing it made him giddy beyond belief. 

Y/N was silent for a long while, all he could hear was his own laboured breathing. But eventually she replied, sounding resolute. “Give me half an hour. We’re doing this, Harry.”

*

Harry had never felt more alive. It was odd, but it was true. He finally felt like he was doing something for himself, in a long, long time. He’d packed his shit in record time, leaving him just enough to drive to Y/N’s. When she didn’t pick up her phone immediately, he felt his heart sink to his stomach. Had she changed her mind? He felt he couldn’t do this without her. But when she eventually picked up with laboured breath, she informed him she was dragging her suitcases to the elevator and couldn’t find her phone in all that rushed chaos. 

Harry wouldn’t take no for an answer, and insisted he’d help her. When she buzzed him in and he reached her floor, he was mildly shocked at the amount of suitcases she’d lined up near the elevator door. He’d only packed his essentials, but Y/N meant business. It looked like she’d packed up her whole life in those bags.

“Oh wow. Ok, alright. Gotta give it to you, you’re a fast packer, considering.”

Y/N smiled at his amused tone, despite her nerves. “I dunno when he’s coming back. Had to be quick. And I knew your SUV could handle all of these.”

“How do you know it’s not already filled up to the brim with my own shit?”

She rolled her eyes when he started loading them up in the elevator, urging her inside to keep the doors open. “Please. You’re a man. I’ll be surprised if you filled two suitcases.”

Harry feigned offence. “It’s three suitcases, alright? Well, two suitcases and a backpack. And I didn’t pack everything. It’s my house, after all.”

Y/N was silent, her smile fading somewhat. “Well, this apartment is his. So…”

Harry kicked himself for opening up that can of worms but the haste in which they loaded her stuff into his truck kept them busy and hopefully took her mind off things for a bit.

When they drove off, for a long time they didn’t even talk about where they’d be going. Harry just drove aimlessly, only making sure they left town on the nearest exit. They couldn’t even use Google Maps as they’d shut their phones off and threw them into the glove compartment in complicity.

They eventually discussed some options. It couldn’t be any of the places they’d been with with their spouses. Not that either of them thought they’d be coming looking for them, but regardless.

Eventually, after driving for a few hours while keeping themselves busy singing along with whatever came on the radio to keep themselves distracted, they decided to just crash at the first decent motel they’d find on their way. It was getting too late to drive safely any further.

They were both giddy at the prospect of crashing at some random motel like some sort of Bonnie and Clyde, still high on the adrenaline rush.

Soon they found themselves in a shabby motel room under a false mr and mrs name. They’d already slept in the same bed before and so the options of getting separate rooms or twin beds weren’t even brought up. They trusted eachother beyond formalities, and besides, the pact was that they would go through this together.

They took turns showering and Y/N called for him from the bathroom when she was finished with hers. “Harry? Ugh, I brought the wrong bag with us…”

“Want me to go get it for you?”

“I mean… I just need something to change into. Do you have some extra pyjamas?”

“Uhm…” Harry didn’t have to check, he knew he’d not packed any extra in his backpack he took with him to the room. “I can give you mine but I’ll have to sleep in a t-shirt. And boxers, of course.”

“Would you mind terribly?”

“Not at all. Just… you know. Don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, that’s why I clarified…”

“Oh, shush. Can I have them?” She cracked the door open and stuck her hand out. “Oh, also, no knickers. I’ll be sure to wash them for you afterwards.”

Harry faltered mid-undressing, but then rushed to hand her his discarded pyjamas. “Don’t be silly.”

He threw a t-shirt on and got under the covers. Surely she’d seen men in boxers before, he was acting a bit childish. But he really meant it when he told her he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable in any way.

She emerged from the bathroom, all swaddled up in the too-large pyjamas and smiled sheepishly at him, then turned the lights off and joined him on the other side of the bed.

Harry flinched when he thought he’d heard her say something. Had he already drifted off to sleep? That was… definitely surprising. He’d had trouble sleeping ever since– “Did you say something?” He whispered, just in case he’d been mistaken.

“Sorry,” she whispered back, “did I wake you? I didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep. Do you always sleep on your back?”

“... Was I snoring?”

Y/N giggled. He smiled into the darkness at the sound. Everything felt so lighthearted and easy with her around, no wonder he’d fallen asleep. “No. But are you a snorer? Because if so, I might have to reconsider this whole arrangement…”

“Oh, shush.” He playfully kicked her leg under the covers, noticing she was closer than he’d gauged. “I think all that driving got to me, plus the adrenaline crush. What did you wanna say?”

“I just wanted to thank you… I don’t think I would’ve gone through with this without you, Harry.”

Harry smiled into the darkness again. He couldn’t see her, but her words really warmed him up. “Same here. Just don’t wake me up at 4am telling me you wanna uber back home, ok?”

She giggled again. “Hell no. You’re stuck with me.”

“...Good.”

Part Three

A/N: soooo. it's gonna be 3 parts, after all 😅😅 thanks to the lovely @freedomfireflies for beta-ing ❤️

💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

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[justauthoring]

a certain fondness.

to admit your feelings is scary, but to never have known is scarier. requested! -> hey! i seen your post asking for marauders requests so I was wondering if you’d write a remus x reader? where they’ve been pining after eachother for so long and it’s so obvious to everyone but them. maybe it ends in a nervous love confession? thank youuu!!! requested by! -> @pinkdaiisies

a/n -> yall im on chapter 108 of atyd and im in the trenches currently lol also, i will always use the og fancast

pairing -> remus lupin x f!reader

he was so pretty that it almost wasn't fair.

pretty eyes. pretty smile. pretty hair. pretty scars. you knew he thought they made him a monster, but you thought they made him look beautiful.

though, you could never tell him that.

you've wanted to, multiple times. been talked up by the girls and psyched yourself up, everything, but the second he'd smile at you with that soft, shy smile, all that courage would disappear within seconds and you'd be left a fumbling fool.

and so, like a cruel torture, you were left a pining fool – always thinking about the what if's and the maybes without ever taking the steps to make them reality. you'd dream of a day you'd be brave enough, or worse, dream of a day that maybe he'd confess himself.

that all along, he'd liked you too.

it never happened.

-

"seriously, moony, you should just tell her."

remus rolls his eyes from behind the book he'd been reading – peacefully a few seconds ago – before lowering it to send james a rather nonplussed expression. "not all of us can just pour our hearts out whenever we want, prongs."

james just rolls his eyes. "and why not?" he counters, quirking a challenging brow. "i have no problem."

"and how well is that working out for you?"

james lips part in disbelief as remus smirks, it growing when he hears sirius let out a loud chuckle and peter try to quietly mask his own chuckle. it wasn't often the boys teased james for his crush on lily anymore, especially since it'd been made clear no amount of it would change his rather embarrassing attempts but, when someone did crack a joke, it never failed to gain the intended laugh.

"well," james huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back against the couch. "at least i'm not too afraid to admit my feelings, like a certain moony over here."

remus shakes his head; "i'm not afraid."

"you definitely are," sirius pops up then, sending remus a smirk. "even wormtail has more bravery then you, remus."

peter flushes at that, batting away sirius' hand from it's mocking pat on his back. "so funny."

sirius just sticks his tongue out at peter, being the childish prat he normally is, as james speaks up again. "seriously though, moony. i'm confident y/n feels the same."

flushing, remus slams his book shut – he clearly wasn't going to be able to read it in peace anymore. "you do not know that," remus corrects, "what if she doesn't and i embarrass myself?"

"like prongs?" sirius grins.

james just sends him the finger. "it honestly isn't that bad."

remus sighs; "for you maybe. besides, why would she want to go out with someone like me?"

remus' meaning is clear.

"remus," james sighs, pitingly. "y/n knows right?" remus nods. "and she doesn't care. none of us do. it isn't as bad as you think it is."

remus moves to respond, but before he can, a voice cuts in;

"what's not that bad?"

all four eyes fall on the four girls as they make their way into the common room. it's lily who asks the question, not so subtly moving towards james, sitting on the arm of his chair, who meets her eyes and tries not to flush immediately – to be fair, lily isn't that much better.

mary and marlene send smiles of their own and easily flank themselves on the couch next sirius, peter now on the ground in front of them.

you walk in behind them, eyes falling on remus' first as you smile.

it's then, remus realizes, that all the open spots on the little nook the marauders had settled themselves in are now taken. he notices, just out of the corner of his eye, you move to take a seat on the ground and his body reacts before he can stop himself.

"here," he rushes, "take my seat."

you turn to him in surprise, a soft flush covering your cheeks as your eyes flicker from the now open seat to remus. "oh, remus you don't–"

"i insist," he pushes, gently, nodding at you with a small, nervous smile.

the rest of the marauders and the girls all send each other knowing glances, shaking their heads at their friends obliviousness.

smiling brightly, you move towards the couch; "thank you, remus."

"o-of course."

with nowhere left, remus settles himself on the ground, in front of you. he tries to ignore the flutter of his heart at having you so close or the way he can't get the soft smile you'd sent him out of your head.

"so," you prompt after a moment when no one else will speak. "what's not so bad?"

remus realizes they'd never answered lily's question. instantly, he sends a look to james, pleading with him not to say anything – especially with you right there.

"sorry, y/n/n," sirius calls out instead of james when the quidditch captain simply stares on in panic. "it's a marauder secret." he offers, grinning over at you and sending remus a wink who quickly bows his head.

you roll your eyes at that, but smile nonetheless. "nothing new then," you laugh, "just let me know beforehand if you're planning on blowing something up or making a mess of something. last time you guys did a prank, i got hit in the crossfire."

all the boys wince at that.

"sorry, y/n," james cringes.

"we promise we'll let you know," peter assures, sending you a smile.

you return it with a smile of your own and a laugh.

"so," sirius speaks up, "what are you ladies doing here? normally you lot of are gossiping or something."

mary rolls her eyes; "we do not gossip."

sirius just quirks a brow at her.

marlene is quick to jump to her defence; "at least we don't land ourselves in detention weekly."

"touche," sirius laughs.

"actually," lily jumps in, leaning forward on the armrest of james' chair. "y/n needed remus for something, didn't you?"

remus watches as you still as all eyes fall on you. "o-oh," you mumble, meeting remus' eyes nervously. "yeah."

remus turns to you; "is everything okay?"

"oh, yes," you reassure with a shake of your head at the concern in his eyes. "i had a question about something for charms. if you don't mind?"

remus is once again interrupted before he can answer;

"moony was actually just headed to the library," james cuts in with a grin. "you two can head there and he can help you."

remus sends james a glare, shaking his head.

you're a little confused by james' suggestion, but you're not all that bothered as you shrug, and turn to remus. there's a warmth to your cheeks that is subtly there, but otherwise, you smile as normal. "if remus doesn't mind?"

"o-of course not!" remus rushes, perhaps a bit quckly if the surprise in your eyes is anything to go by. he rushes to correct himself. "i mean... i don't mind at all."

-

thirty minutes later and the two of you are alone in the library.

there was only a few other students there so luckily the both of you were able to find a table to yourselves easily. you'd asked him your question about charms and remus had been helpful, like you'd expected.

but now, as the two of you sat there, it was clear neither of you knew what to say.

"s-sorry about them," remus speaks up, voice soft, a moment after lasting silence. "the guys i mean. they-well..."

you frown as remus trails off, turning to him in concern; "remus?"

"i didn't actually have to go to the library." is all he answers with.

your eyes widen. "oh!" you squeak, embarrassed. "i... i'm so sorry! i didn't mean to pull you away from your friends! we totally could've done this–"

"no, no," remus rushes out, shaking his head. "no, that's not what i meant."

you frown, puzzled. remus was being awfully criptic and you didn't really understand why. not to mention, his cheeks were bright red and he was desperately avoiding your gaze which was making you increasingly nervous.

had you done something to upset him?

as far as you knew, there was no full moon approaching. so it couldn't be that. since you'd found out last year, you'd been keeping track of when full moons were happening so you could be there for remus in anyway you can. which, admittedly, wasn't much unfortunately, but you at least liked to know.

reaching forward, you set your hand on his arm, not noticing the way he tenses at your touch.

"remus?" you push gently.

his eyes clench shut and then; "i like you!"

he says it so fast and so suddenly, you don't even recognize what he's said. not at first, anyways. you pause, blinking, as his own eyes slowly flicker open to meet yours nervously.

then, softly, you ask; "you like me?"

he cringes. "yes," he nods, beet red. "i h-have for a while. the boys have been trying to get me to confess for a while, which is why they'd offered us to go the library. so... so we could be alone."

you blink; "oh."

remus takes that the wrong way. "i understand if you don't feel the same!" he rushes, shaking his head at you. "nothing has to change. and i mean... i'd understand if you had... concerns about being with me, so–"

you promptly cut him off by pressing your lips against his own.

the kiss is messy and clumsy, neither of you having any experience. you also pull away quicker than you'd like, but despite remus' confession, you're still nervous so it's instinct as your body pulls away.

meeting remus' eyes, your breathless; "i like you too," you whisper. "and i have no concerns about being with you. at all."

remus' eyes widen. "even... with my monthly problem?"

"even with," you say with no hesitation or doubt. "you know i don't care or see you differently. i... i just, well, like you."

remus smiles at that, finally eased as he laughs lightly. "i like you too."

biting your lip, you grin; "can i kiss you again?"

"please."

-

"you think they're snogging each other?"

"hopefully." lily huffs, "all y/n does is pine after remus."

"same with remus," sirius laughs. "he's madly in love."

marlene laughs; "if they aren't we're going to have to try different methods."

"more forward," mary nods.

james snorts; "nah, they're definitely snogging."

"what makes you so sure?" peter asks, confused.

"look," james nods to his right.

all eyes follow his gesture, five pairs of eyes widening at the sight of you and remus walking into the common room, hand in hand.

"finally!"

[upsidedownmvnson]

dungeons and douchebags | eddie munson

where eddie munson kills your dnd character out of spite & you end up in the hospital in the same day. eddie, of course, blames only himself.

full fic of this blurb :)

AN: i named the third guy keith bc he needed a name, and if his role was pre-established im SORRY but hes a mage. a lot of the dnd stuff im sure is wrong and doesnt work but let me live

also i love this so u should to

also also I KNOW ITS A SHITTY THING FOR A DM TO DO - thats the point

Eddie’s annoyed with you when you’re not on time for Hellfire.

You know he’s sensitive about starting on time, but still you were running late again, even though this time you promised it would be different, and you would even be early.

And Eddie had foolishly believed you again. It hurt especially, because even though you were just friends, Eddie was so painfully in love with you. All day every day, he was pining, yearning, longing. You were on his mind all the time, and you... you couldn't even bother to be on time for Hellfire.

When he begged you to be on time earlier in the day, he had made sure to mention that it would mean a lot to him if you were on time. And he thinks that if you love him back, you'll definitely care when he communicates something like that.

He knows he shouldn't let himself feel like this, but every Friday he's reminded that he's not special to you. He's not the one person you're always on time for. Eddie thinks, somehow, that if you're on time for Hellfire, well then maybe you like him too. It's silly, but it's what he does. It gets more painful as time goes on and you're still not there.

The mood slowly shifts to something tense as time ticks on. You’re always a couple minutes late but nearly an hour? Eddie is painfully frustrated, and his feelings are hurt. Eddie has overthught himself to a dramatic conclusion that you've decided you're above Hellfire.

While the party chats on totally unaware, barely even recognizing that they still haven't started, Eddie thinks you've looked in the mirror and recognized that you're better than them. That you can, and should, have everything and everyone you want. He thinks you'll want to be with a jock. Or maybe a cheerleader. He thinks you've decided not to love him.

In a fit of self pity and rage, he decides to leave your character behind, so the party left you alone, sleeping in a cave.

"Attention," Eddie says, "the sun is rising. It's time to pack your bags and move on."

Dustin looks confused, "where's y/n?"

"Who knows?" Eddie tries to look unamused to hide his pain, but it slips, and ends up just looking angry.

Eddie rolls a perception check for you to see if you wake up. He rolls an 18. And with your build you would've noticed the group leaving without you. Eddie is still think about you in the arms of a jock. "She fails." Eddie looks at the group with an evil grin. "You leave the camp unnoticed."

As the game goes on, Eddie feels crappy. He's never cheated like that before. Like, sure, he's changed a roll or two to make the plot better, or to not totally kill one of his players because some random NPC got a nat 20. That was his right as DM. But... leaving you like that was less than cool.

But even worse, when they return to the cave later, you're stuck in a bandit situation. Eddie really, truly, genuinely expected the party to save you. Except, one thing led to another, and you were stabbed through stomach, making you bleed out. Normally, this is where you'd roll your life saving throws.

It wasn't really supposed to play out like that. But he didn't expect the party to roll such terrible throws, all of them accidently leaving you defenseless. Eddie kinda feels bad, but you hurt him first.

What he doesn't expect is Steve Harrington bursting into the drama room, looking frenzied, just a few moments later. The party halts. The last thing happening in the game was the party finishing off the last bandit, and running to your aid. But now, they were all just staring at Steve. Eddie approached his friend, worried about the look in Steve’s eyes.

Steve stood up straight, and cleared his throat. Weakly he says, “something terrible happened.”

And then Steve tells them all about your car accident, and Eddie feels sick. His knees buckle, and Steve has to hold him up. He’s totally disoriented by this news. He feels his heartbeat pounding behind his eyes, and his ears ring loudly, barely registering the panicked talking going on around him

“They're alive,” Steve was shouting, but because people weren’t letting him talk, he had to keep shouting it over the hundred questions. They wouldn't be able to handle it. Not again. Not when Max still hasn't woken up. “Eddie? Can you hear me buddy?”

But Eddie was in shock. He was blaming himself. He killed you.

“Can you walk? I'll drive you,” Steve says, as Gareth searches Eddie's pockets for the keys to the van. “Dustin, get over here, help me get Eddie to the car.” Eddie overhears Jeff tell everyone to meet at the van.

As soon as they get moving, the adrenaline starts pumping through Eddie’s body. He was suddenly able to break free of his friends' aid and pick up his pace, and the three of them ran through the school and into the parking lot. The dim light Steve parked by was flickering, putting a weak spotlight on Eddie as he tugged the door handle on the passenger seat

“Let me unlock it,” Steve snapped, fumbling the keys in his hand. He dropped them, the pressure of Eddie’s stare was kinda terrifying. He got the door open and unlocked the others.

When they were in the car, Eddie was finally alert, if anything overaware.

“What the fuck is going on?” he snapped.

No one said anything. There was nothing they could say that would make Eddie feel better, or calm down. Steve sped out of the parking lot, blowing the stop sign. He really shouldn't have, given the whole reason you were in the hospital.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn't happening. He was wrong. He was being petty and he was hurt because he thought you were being a dick but you were - he was gunna throw up - you were somewhere bleeding. While he was busy killing you, you were actually laying on the asphalt after a violent car crash. And he was thinking you're an asshole

“Their character died,” Eddie said, “I've killed them.”

“It's not gunna happen,” Steve said, gripping the steering wheel. It was a statement he couldn't back up.

At the hospital, Eddie barely waited for the car to stop before he was running inside, tripping over his own feet as he rushed to get to you. dustin was hot on his trail and steve was parking the car.

Eddie saw Nancy with Jonathan over by the nurse's station, and when Nancy saw him, she came hustling over, putting her hands on Eddie's arms. Dustin spoke quietly with Jonathan in the background.

“Relax,” she said, “please breath. They’re okay right now, they’re in surgery, and it's going really well, okay?”

“Wheeler?” Eddie asked, eyes filling with tears he had no control over.

“It has to be fine,” Nancy said, “sit with me.” Nancy Wheeler was not going to lose another friend today. Not again.

And with no other options he listened, following Nancy to an uncomfortable plastic chair that squeaked when he sat. Nancy held his hand over the stiff arm rests, but he didn't find any comfort. He didn't think he would until he was with you again.

Jonathan sat beside Nancy, giving her a sad smile and handing her a bitter coffee. He sat quietly, letting Nancy give Eddie her attention. Dustin sat on the other side of Eddie, also opting to stay quiet. What was anyone supposed to say?

Honestly, the only thing Eddie wanted to hear was your voice.

Nothing changed for the first two days. But on the third day, the only change was in Eddie. He went from sitting quietly by your side to scribbling stuff in a notebook like a crazy person. He would also dip out to go use a library computer, or "check on some things," as he explained to Nancy.

Her and Steve were mutually concerned about Eddie's state. He was constantly babbling about saving you, and how he's figured it out they just have to succeed.

Everyone else got a chance to be worried when they got a call Tuesday saying there was a mandatory Hellfire meeting and anyone not in attendance would be left behind, and unwelcome for the rest of the campaign. He couldn't risk a single missing member. Not with the stakes...

Tuesday evening, Gareth, Jeff, and Keith are the first to arrive. They are curious as to what the hell their bandmate had cooked up, but they were more worried than excited. Eddie hadn't exactly been himself the last couple of days.

They don't expect a set up even more elaborate than usual. The lights are red and blue, making the room feel eerie, and small.

"Welcome to Hell," Eddie said, grinning and holding his arms open wide.

Gareth and Jeff exchanged a look, but were too nervous to speak. Eddie didn't want to explain the objective twice, so he waited for the rest of the party to arrive before he said anything, but the look in his eye feels sinister. His friends suddenly realized how truly fucked Eddie would be if anything happened to you.... like... for keeps.

When the rest of the party is there, they look to Eddie expectantly, but he just continues to smile like a maniac and tells everyone to take their seats. Dustin is confused to see Steve Harrington sneak into the room and lean against the wall.

"I cheated," he says when he has the attention of the flock, "y/n didn't fail the perception check, and therefore their death wasn't fair. However, death is death. So we're going to have to bring them back."

Dustin notices that Steve Harrington's presence is not explained.

Nancy sits at your bedside like she has for the better part of the last four days. She holds a book in one hand, and the other rests casually beside you, near your hand. She looks at you, and then her hand. She gets a supernatural chill.

She puts her book down, and speaks your name quietly, looking for any sign of life from you. One more day of your glass features and she was going to crumble. Nancy shakes the bizarre feeling from her head, and pats your hand.

She shocked when you're ice cold to the touch. She recoils, pulling away fast. But after the initial shock fades, she touches you again. There was no way that was right, right? You were freezing. What the hell was that about? Nancy starts a search for a blanket to warm you up.

A mage freezes your body. The party scavenges for anything that can help and then leave the cave, your frozen body in tow. Another player can't make life saving throws for you, so they were thinking outside the box. They would take you deep, deep into an ancient necromancer's lair, and steal the resurrection stone from around his neck.

Nancy returns with a simply grey blanket, and a very friendly nurse. They had gotten to talking, and Nancy has simply explained how cold you had been, having not thought too much of it. The nurse, Sophie, had decided to come check it out too.

"Oh my gosh," Sophie says, feeling the ice cold skin. "Oh my gosh, she's like ice!"

And leaves Nancy feeling a little worried as she scurries out of the room. It was like she'd never seen anything like it. Nancy feels uneasy, and makes a quick phone call from your bedside phone. Jonathan picks up, and as soon as he hears the concern in her voice, he's on the way.

Nancy hangs up, picks the phone back up, and calls Steve. He picks up on the first ring.

"Something is like... actually happening over here," she whispers, shocked to even be saying it.

"No shot," he says, nearly laughing at the idea. He whispers the next part so the group doesn't hear anything, "I thought we agreed Eddie was just crazy, and this whole 'saving her character will save her' was just to show him that he didn't cause all this."

"I know we did," she said, "but y/n is cold as ice."

Eddie's voice booms as he narrates the perilous journey. After trap rooms, fighting devil dogs, two gargoyles, and a Molydeus that nearly killed Mike. They had made it into the inner sanctum, but had all failed to roll perception upon entering, and set off a fire trap. One that melted the spell on you, leaving you warm enough to die. "Hurry!" Dustin shouted, "engage the necromancer! Hit 'em with everything we got."

Nancy is already back into her book, Jonathan sitting on the floor beside her, leaning his head against the armrest, while she dangles a dainty arm over his shoulder, letting it lay relaxed on his chest. A single beep draws her attention. She notices something different, but she can't say what. Your cheeks are rosy.

Nancy brings her hand off of Jonathan, drawing his attention too. She puts a cool hand against your forehead, and is again shocked by how you feel. You're burning up. You're fucking hot. Like boiling. Nancy runs to find Sophie again.

The turn is Keith's, his mage more powerful than the others, but instead turns his attention to your character. "I cast flesh to stone on y/n!" the mage shouts. "She'll die if she stays like this." "Roll for it!" "18!" "Pass!" Your body is frozen again, this time encased in stone. Another stall, and Eddie knows the party is running out of time.

"You have to feel her head," Nancy says, speed walking with the bubbly nurse hot on her trail. Sophie complies, and gasps.

"It's not possible," she says quietly, "I'm getting the doctor. There's something strange about your friend."

Nancy looks down at you, and jumps out of her skin when the machines start beeping wildly. All of them making different noises, all of them loud. Sophie rushes back in, with more staff behind her. Nancy and Jonathan are ushered out of the room by a woman who explains that you're in a code blue, which means they have to resuscitate you.

Nancy looks around the white hallway. She's overwhelmed and underpaid.

"Stay here," she tells her boyfriend. "This is crazy!"

But she runs off before she explains anything else. She's after a phone, which she finds with no trouble. She fishes a quarter out of her pocket, and uses it to call Steve again. He picks up as fast as last time, desperate for something other than watching dnd.

"Whatever they're doing, tell them to hurry up!" she's shouting, drawing the attention of patients and staff around her. "Something's happening! She's not breathing!"

The necromancer stands injured. The party cornering him, making him cower. He trembles, and begs for his life. He explains that the party came to his home, killed his people, and now wish to rip off the very thing that keeps him alive. "I stab him through the heart, and I take the necklace." Dustin says. As he looks at Steve, he thinks he understands what's going on. "Roll." "For what?" "Dexterity." Dustin rolls his die. The table is silent. The little D20 lands. the group erupts when they see the Nat 20 he rolled, effectively grabbing the necklace and throwing it around your neck from a metre away like horseshoe. As it lands on you, the ground shifts under the party's feet. Everyone stares in silence, both in the campaign and real life. Your character opens her eyes, coughs, and rises.

The party roars to life at the table, cheering at a job well done and slamming hands on the table in excitement. But the cheers are short lived, silence coats the room but this one is different. It's serious, eery. They can see that Steve looks worried, and he's trying to get Nancy to answer him, but he's getting nothing. looking at Steve expectantly. Apparently, everyone had figured out what the plan was. They all knew they were trying to wake you up. Steve says nothing. Just hangs up the phone, looking up with a disappointed frown.

"The line went dead."

Steve is once again driving Eddie to the hospital. And he's a nervous wreck. You're like schrodinger's cat. Eddie doesn't know if you're alive or not. He chews on the side of his thumb during the entire ride. The rest of the club was waiting patiently in the drama room. Eddie and Steve promised to call as soon as they knew anything.

Eddie can't fucking breath as he sprints down the hospital hallways, ignoring every sign and person telling him not to. He doesn't care. He has to get to you.

Wheeler is outside your room talking to a doctor, but with her back to him he couldn't see the bright, beautiful smile on her face talking excitedly about your miraculous recovery. Eddie runs right passed her to your room, and uses the doorframe to propel himself in, scaring both you and Jonathan who had been sitting quietly.

You look pale, and there are bags under your eyes. But you're sporting a weak smile, shaky hands holding a cup of lime jello. Eddie can't help but smile. You're awake, sitting up, and smiling at him. He has to laugh at the like, ten empty jello packages. Jonathan slips out the door without a word, and Eddie takes his seat by your bed.

"I was so fuckin' scared," Eddie says, tears falling from his eyes before he could even process it. He hadn't realized.

You hold your hand out for him and whisper, "Eddie," and he looks up, puppy dog eyes glossy with lingering tears, and heartbreaking to see. He takes your hand. "You didn't do this."

And he cries harder, leaning down and holding your hand to his forehead and begging your forgiveness anyway. "I did," he cries, "out of spite and jealousy, I tried to hurt you, and I did. I let them leave you alone. I made them and I cheated-"

"-Eddie-"

"-and you should've seen the party-"

"-Eddie, seriously-"

"-leaving because you totally passed the, ow, hey!"

You had flicked him on the nose, his babbling giving you no other choice, but as usual he was being dramatic, you hadn't actually hurt him at all.

"Eddie, stop, and listen to me," you say, "you didn't do this. You're not actually all powerful, you know that, right?"

"But-"

"But nothing," you say, smiling. "But Nancy told me that you saved me so no hard feelings."

Eddie smiles back at you, letting you wipe the tears leftover on his flushed cheeks. He leans into your touch and your heart swells. In your mind, you beg him to kiss you. You beg and plead and hope that this will be the time he makes a move.

He knows this is his chance, he leans closer to you, slowly, gauging your reaction. "Is this okay?" he whispers, when he's just an inch from your lips. You feel his breath as he speaks and you can't resist, pushing yourself forward to close the gap. And he kisses you like he's kissed you a hundred times before. Like he already knows everything you will like, even before you do. His lips are so fucking soft against yours, all plush and warm and taking over your senses.

"Well, I guess I can tell the others that you're fine," Steve says, and Eddie pulls away from you. His sudden absence is cold.

"I saved her," Eddie says, grinning. "Nancy said so."

the hair on the back of will's neck having a disco party during this entire fic

[teabunnee]

Could i request the wilder boy trio letting a blind merlin feel around their features to put faces to their voices? Also plz imagine the comedy of merlin trying to run their hands alllll the way up eironns antlers but theyre too short to reach or getting jumpscared by lorsan's fluffy ears because they didnt know he had them.

Blind Merlin! Feels the Wilder Boy’s face. 

Please let me know if any of this is disrespectful! I tried. 

Eironn 

Eironn is a little puzzled by the request, but he complies. 

Eironn respects you immensely, as Merlin, and as a person, so he bows to your request, quite literally, kneeling on the ground so as to give you better access. He knows he is quite tall, and thus, he felt it was best to allow you to have the full picture. He also tells you he’s kneeling. Should you ask him to stand up so that you have a better idea of his height, he obliges immediately. 

He doesn’t know much about how to accommodate blindness, but he’s very willing to learn and to listen to any requests you have. 

He feels how your fingers drag down his cheeks, feeling his nose and his brow, and does his best not to move. He’s a bit flustered by how intimate this feels, but he remains resolute. He’s rather gentlemanly in this way. 

He feels a bit awkward, he knows he probably shouldn’t move, but is it alright to blink? To move his face? He wants to make sure you have a complete picture. 

As you touch his antlers, and he feels you gasp in surprise, he jolts. “Is-is something the matter?” He says, worried, did you prick yourself on something? Or scared? Or worse…disgusted?

“I didn’t realise-“ Your fingers graze along the bone, “No one told me about how big your antlers are! They must be beautiful, and your hair-its so soft!”, You stroke his locks with your fingertips. 

He can’t help but smile as your hands go alll the way up his antlers, feeling the tips. You-you can’t even reach, that’s…adorable. Why is he so flustered by this? 

Should you compliment him on his features, he coughs in his hand, blushing. It’s not the first time he’s been complimented, but from you, with such sincerity, it feels…different. 

Byron 

Byron agrees immediately. He blindfolds himself for his own training voluntarily, but even he has Elona as a guide, and his skills as a wind whisperer, he holds a great deal of respect for you, and maybe privately talks to you about how you navigate the world without seeing, hoping to implement it to his own training. He even gives you his own tricks, should you wish to ask him. He also, perhaps, knows the most about any stigma against blindness, since so many assume he is blind. Heck, he’ll even lend Elona to you should you ask. She’s basically a trained seeing-eye bird already.  

His only wish is that it is to be done in private. He leads you to a safe place and bends low so that you can have better access. 

Otherwise, he treats you very normally, though he’s careful not to startle you. 

He’s rather silent as you touch him, only speaking when you ask him questions about colors or certain features. He’s as still as a statue, allowing you to touch his face at your leisure. He makes no remarks about how he feels, and no one can tell whether he’s affected by this interaction at all. 

It’s only when you reach the sides of his ears (You didn't realise they were so fluffy at the end!) that you tilt your head, something is…off. Oh. You don’t feel the cloth around his temples. And as you trace a line from the sides of his head to his brows, you still can’t feel it. 

“Did..you take off your blindfold?” You ask, gently grazing his eyelids. “Yes,” He says, his voice Low and simple, “I can put it back on again, if you wish.” 

If you ask him what color his eyes are, he obliges immediately. You likely have a clearer picture of his face than most people now. 

It’s been a long time since someone has touched his face like this, and he perhaps felt his heart go a little faster at your touch. Especially if you compliment him. But he’ll never tell anyone about what occured. 

Lorsan 

I think you broke him. Yeah, yup he’s broken. He goes very quiet, and his hands twitch. 

Lorsan probably describes everything around you should you ask, in lovely, flowery detail so vivid you can imagine it in your head. He’s not above playing pranks, or embellishing things (just a little!) to you, but he wasn’t expecting you to request to actually touch his face. 

“One second, magister!” He says, too cheerfully. He then pulls out his hairbrush and passes it through his ears, and his hair as quickly as he can. 

“Done!” He crows, throwing the brush back into his bag, and makes a mock bow towards you.

Dude is chatty throughout the whole thing, talking about any sort of thing he can imagine. It’s mostly to distract himself, If you tell him to shut up, he will shut up, though he might twitch a bit. 

Being touched like this was very…nice, he hopes you can’t feel the heat on his cheeks. His nervousness makes him anxious, and that’s why he moves around a bit. Thankfully, 

As your hands brush against his head and get to the base of his ears, you gasp, 

“What? What’s wrong?” He jerks his head back, concerned that he’d somehow hurt you. 

“I-I didn’t realise you had bunny ears!” You say, your hands go back to his head, and you lightly run your palms over his ears again. “They’re so soft!” 

Lorsan has the biggest grin on his face for the rest of the goddamn week. He is completely insufferable, especially if you talk about his ears to other people. 

Though, if you try to pet him again in public, he gets a bit huffy and embarrassed. 

[pvlvsdog]

How would Sinners react to a proposition of skinny dipping? You don't have to write all of them ofc :3

Ohhh, you are going to be the end of me /pos /nm the way I had to ponder this for so long. I’m dying

Unedited! Slight nsfw themes (mentions of nudity) ahead!

Hmm, I think Don is all for it as a fun adventure. Like, oh cool you want to swim in a lake together, this will be so fun, you can find something to jump into the water from or splash each other. If she’d be excited for having sone fun in the lake with someone, it’d be you. Those are her thoughts for exactly ten seconds before it hits her that skinny dipping also includes both parties being naked, preferably away from everyone else and pretty intimate. Her eyes get a bit wide as she’s hit with that realization but she’s Don, of course she won’t back down. Might blurt out something like ‚naked?’ Just as that thought enters her mind, not that she minds. She just doesn’t have a filter. And is very eager to do the activity with you still. Still, her openness doesn’t mean she’ll be normal about it. I could see her making quite a ruckus about sneaking off with you (not even to show off and let others know, she’s just like that plus you gave her a lot of positive emotions to process) so your little skinny dipping session will be anything but a secret. Bonus is that for a good while after you ask, you could swear her cheeks turned a semi-permanent shade of pink. The shoes stay on of course. Even when you question her about it, she’ll respond like you’re the one being silly for expecting anything else

Again with sinners being anything but normal, we have Sinclair. He’s another one who will ask the same question of „…Naked?” But in his case it’s not prefixed with excitement and joy. Not that he wouldn’t want to do it. He just didn’t expect you to propose that and even if you did, he’s still a bit surprised that you proposed that to him. He just simply… wasn’t expecting this. And with the insight I have from reading his book, I would guess that the whole concept would bring him more stress than joy. First of all, he doesn’t like himself all that much, so the perspective of stripping in front of somebody he likes… is anxiety inducing. Besides, despite keeping it all well hidden and marinating in his brain, his mind - more often than not - leads him uh. Places. He starts thinking about things he… really feels bad for thinking in relation to his favourite coworker. About your body and the connotations of your proposition. Lewd possibilities cross his mind and with each one he feels more and more awful. This is much worse than the ambiguously wet dreams plaguing his mind (as they do in the book), since at this point he at least doesn’t realise who the motherly figure in them is. But he knows you. And he feels like he shouldn’t be thinking about you in that way. You’d find that disgusting, find him disgusting. You probably already do. And he wouldn’t blame you for that. In the past (again, in the book), it took one lewd comment about a local shopkeeper from his schoolmates to get him flustered to the point he gave up on coming to the store. And he’s not much better now. A huge part of him, one that dislikes both the inside and outside of his own self, is screaming at him to decline. But there is something in the way you look at him so kindly, waiting for his response, that pushes him to ignore his innate instinct to run. You swear you could see cogs turning in his head and steam rising (sorry, that metaphor was uh, not purposefully crafted) as he mulled everything over to finally agree. But not before asking if you’re sure. I mean… you did ask. But he’s so stressed, he would rather make sure that you mean what you’re saying. The last thing he’d want is to make a fool of himself in front of you. You reassure him that your proposition still stands and you meant it. However, when push comes to shove he probably would still, albeit apologetically, ask if he could maybe stay in his shirt and boxers. Especially after seeing you strip. With a lot of encouragement you could maybe get him to give that up, but it would take a lot and he would be… rather guarded. Either way, as time in the lake goes on, he would relax a tiny bit and it would be fun. Mostly staying emerged in water though. Give him time. And uh. Don’t look down when you two get out of the water. We all know what is happening there as his eyes nearly drill holes in your figure, but I think he would actually die permanently if you acknowledged his hhh. Reaction

Rodya is much more chill with it. She gets excited right away and praises you for the good idea. When you tell her that it would be just the two of you and that she was the first person you thought of when the idea popped into your head, she grins. Well obviously she was, who’s more fun on this bus than her~ despite the self assured words and tone, there is a bit of pride as she says it. She proposes to make it a little adventure, to sneak out and make it a fun secret between the two of you. Definitely not because she’s a bit salty that you were the one to come up with the idea. I mean she likes you, she “should” come with something special to add here to impress you. Though it’s a bit reassuring that you thought that she was the best person to share this moment with. She makes the whole event ten times better, coming up with a way to sneak off unnoticed. Even if you are concerned about Vergilius finding out, she waves you off. She’s been in deeper shit than this, no need to worry. She has a way with words, as she claims. As you two strip, she teases you a bit and shamelessly takes off her clothes, fighting against herself not to show just how much she’s seeking out your starstruck gaze. Again, she tells you to relax as she watches you strip, letting slip a comment or two that are bound to rattle your brain for the next week. But for now you two enter the water. She yelps a bit and complains that it’s colder than she’d like. Overplaying the act a little bit, though you can definitely tell she’s cold. If you’re taking the temperature worse, she’d comment on it, saying how it’s crawl who the ‘cultured’ folk is. ‘Lowly ones are too used to freezing colds, it’s very easy to see~’ she says about ‘commoners’ in a playful but matter-of-factly tone. You could easily imagine Heathcliff contemplating drowning her on the spot on a bad day if he was present. But there’s no one around. Only you and her. And despite her poorly masked insecurities, this little activity you share is sure making her feel special

I firmly believe that asking Outis to skinny dip would leave you more flustered than her. Maybe she’d be surprised at first. Taken aback. You could see something in her demeanour shift as she lets out some semi-flustered explanation that it could be amateurish considering your “service” to the company. But she has a soft spot for you. So, after asking Dante (yes, she has to ask them, it’s the ‘professional way to conduct such procedures’) she informs you at what time she’ll be waiting for you. The initial surprise has worn off and from then on, oh, you’re cooked. She’d strip in a very matter of factly fashion and when she stands in front of you in all her glory, it’s hard not to blush. At the slightest hesitance she informs you that this is nothing to be embarrassed about. Her tone both confident and a little… affectionate? You could swear there was a glint of warmth in her eyes when she said it. Genuine warmth shining through her collected exterior. Times at war are (you don’t dare to correct that with a ‘were’) tough and back in her day she had seen contless soldiers in such situations. This is nothing to be ashamed about. Didn’t you request this bonding time between the two of you? It’s a good way to bring you two closer. She proclaims so with confidence, but as her words hit her, she adverts her eyes and adds that it’s good for teamwork. So what are you waiting for? It’s hard to disagree or prolong the ordeal, so soon enough both of you get into the water. She sways effortlessly along with the current and for once you can see her expression soften a little as she goes along with your attempts at small talk. Sure, that civil, personal part of her is a little rusty, but it glimmers though the cracks as she recounts some little facts and situations from the passing days. It’s hard to let her guard down. But as she watches you, submerged in the water beside her, she feels like it’s not impossible to feel something else than a calculated need for survival

As you ask Ryoshu to indulge you in your request, she takes her cigarette out of her mouth and quirks her eyebrow at you. ‚What For?’ She questions you with amusement. No matter your reasoning, she ponders for a second, snickering a little. It’s… sort of cute you want to involve her in your plans like that. Especially since it’s a bit of a bold ask, all things considered. Finally, a smirk plays on her lips as her eyes travel up and down your figure and she replies. ‚Alright, Why Not’. She’s not bothered by the whole concept, though your daring request is for sure positively interesting to her, as I said. You two set the time (well, you do, she’s chill to go along with anything really) and she tells you to lead the way. She’s not too bothered to just walk out even if you want to go during company time. She’s curious to see where it’ll go. Only when you two did yourselves of your uniforms does she change her demeanour a bit. She’s a woman of the arts after all. And there’s nothing shameful in her gaze as it drags across your body, noting every curve and scar. She definitely has eyes of an artist. And in that moment, you feel like the finest muse she had ever had (which… could be concerning considering the type of art she dabbles in, but this time her thoughts are definitely going different places than gore. For the most part). She’s fun to spend time in the water with. Witty and attentive, she gazes at the scenery around, though each time her eyes end up on you again. Albeit she’s an enigmatic woman, it’s very clear that this experience made you two somewhat closer

The real issue when asking Faust to go skinny dipping with you is to get a straightforward answer from her. Or just any answer that would tell you what she’s thinking. But it’s Faust we’re talking about. So, when you ask her if she’d be down to go skinny dipping with you after Dante officially ends the work day (you know she wouldn’t agree if this wasn’t the case) she tells you that ‘all employees are permitted to use the next twelve hours as they please, to rest, use the restroom or destress’. She says it as if she was stating the obvious. Well, she is, in a sense, but it doesn’t mean she’s making herself clear in this context. She’s doing anything but that. After you press her a bit and explains, that her response was, indeed, a “yes”. Although a very faint smile is tugging on her lips, as she asks you about the time and for the briefest of times you could swear that her (usually very distant) gaze settled on you. Still avoiding the eyes, but as it falls below your face, you wonder if it’s about something different than her habit of avoiding looking at faces this time. With how enigmatic she is, she isn’t giving you much to go off on in terms of decoding her thoughts. Even when she shows up at the time you two agreed on (seems like she appeared just as the clock struck the exact minute, but after getting to know her, that doesn’t surprise you at all). Gracefully, her hands work their way around zippers and buttons until the last item of clothing slides off of her body, only to be folded and set aside for later. Her soft, pale skin seems radiant and she waits for you to rid yourself on the uniform as well before emerging herself in water beside you. When you look at her, her eyes barely leave the surface, tracing the lines of the ripples her movement makes against the current. However, each time you look away, you can almost feel the burning gaze that settles on your figure and takes it all in

A gentle, happy smile settles on Hong Lu’s lips as you present him with the idea. How curious! Is this some sort of a ritual or a pastime poor people have? He would love to do it, he never had the chance to~. First being hungry and now taking clothes off and getting into dirty water for fun, this job is giving him so many new experiences! He asks what the purpose is. Of being naked and swimming in some (probably at least slightly contaminated) water. You didn’t suspect he knew about the horrid state of things outside of his bubble, such as water being bad/polluted, but his state of surprise seems to be contagious when you find yourself wondering about the degree to which his ignorance is a choice. As your expression clearly changes at his words, he gives you a lazy, quizzical smile. His questions need to be answered and I, dear reader, wish you good luck because you will need all of it to explain to him why you want to be in the water - alone and without clothes - with him specifically. After he seems satisfied (though you’re sure the last one or two questions were asked in an effort to fluster you), he tells you to get him when you’re ready to depart and head towards the destination of your ‘curious activity’. Once there, he gently pulls off his clothes with a bit of excitement, clearly looking forward to taking part in your plan. Before you get a chance to lead him into the murky liquid, he happily shows you his folded stack of clothes. They look… a bit unconventional in the way he had put them, but he acts with such glee that it’s hard to stay indifferent to his achievement. He tells you that he had other people handle such things before, but since that’s a thing of the past, he had learned to do it on his own. He’s very happy to share this new skill with you. It’s after that, that you two finally go thought with your plan fully. Shivering a bit, he asks if the water will be heated up. It’s up to you if you want to inform him that it’s not how natural bodies of water work or spare him such information and assure him that the longer you two stay emerged, the warmer he’ll feel (omitting that it won’t be due to any manmade mechanisms). All in all, even something you wouldn’t personally call “and exceptional experience” is like a brand new adventure with Hong Lu by your side. His musing and eager inquiries never let you drift off or grow bored. And if you’re unsure about how stimulating a chat with him can be, I assure you that his body will provide a whole array of visual stimuli as well, all on display for your eyes to explore

Next 3 couldn’t have been written without the help of my friend (you, dear anon haha^^) and I hope I didn’t disappoint~

If you were hoping for a distinct reaction from Heathcliff, you are in luck because it is indeed, definitely strong. When you ask him if he would like to skinny dip with you (either because you like the idea and want company or have just heard of the concept and want to try it out, having picked him as the best suited companion) he looks a bit… taken aback. Sure, he can be loud and most definitely wouldn’t categorise him as shy, but he’s also not blind to the implications of you offering to strip in front of him like it’s some casual activity (it’s not to him, definitely). There’s a lot of things left over from his past and even now, it clearly shows in his approach to intimacy. Not only was he ‘undesirable’ before, he had grown to expect to not have his desires met easily and without fighting for each instance of genuine affection (such as his… favourite coworker offering to be so intimate). In his head it’s still more easy to accept being The Other, the one who pleases those he cares about, someone who constantly tries to earn each instance of affection. Despite his… quite innate state of emotional constipation, he is fond of you and by extension- thinks quite highly of you. For someone who had it so reinforced from an early age that he is below the good and pure people (well, especially one person), it makes sense for you to just be your lovely self instead of initiating anything on you own, directing your attention and intimacy towards him so blatantly. Besides that he uh… well, he is all bark no bite in a sense that he didn’t have a lot of instances where he could get experience. At best he had something like this happen once or twice when he was much younger. Both the way he is and the lingering idea in the back of his head of ‘saving himself’ prevented him from familiarising himself with more. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if the question came from someone else. But you get him worked up on daily over much less than skinny dipping. Heck, even when you look at him a bit too intensely during a bickering session he looses track for a moment each time without fail. But he wouldn’t be Heathcliff if he unpacked all of that. So instead your question will get a very annoyed ‚what for’. I mean. Your intentions aren’t that clear to him, like I said, he feels more natural when he’s chasing an idea, than when his desires become something writhing reach, something he doesn’t have to work for. Whatever you tell him to explain your request, it won’t be completely understandable to him because of that. But in the end a strange pull he feels on the inside (again, he’s not unpacking that) pushes him to grumble out something that is almost in agreement to your question. In turn he spends the remaining time being filled with way more tension that what would be considered reasonable. He’s not snappy, but something about the way he holds himself is very different. So much so, that Rodya calls it out at one point. Only then does he let his full annoyance out and while a few sinners muse on what could have set him off like that again, you’re left to wonder if you were the reason for his strange behaviour. He’s stuck between snapping at your coworkers and spacing out. His mind going back to the plans you two made. Each time, he finds that his gaze landed on you again and lets out a frustrated huff. As you two finally depart on your off time, he walks right by your side. His eyebrows knitted together and his eyes looking somewhere off to the side. On the inside he is torn. A part of him wishes to rush towards the body of water and the other part tells him to run back to the bus. In the end he simply walks shoulder in w shoulder with you. Saying nothing until you two arrive at the place. Something stops him from undressing and compels him to instead aim his gaze at you for the first time since you guys departed. It’s then that he finds himself stuck, watching you slip out of your uniform, fabric sliding off of your form 1/2

Hungrily he notes each soft curve and sharp edge that makes up your form, his eyes taking in all the ways in which light and shadow engulf your body, creating a sight he realises now, he yearned so hard to see until now. No beauty mark, no hair, no scar escape his sight. When you turn to him, you could swear that his pronounced chest is rising up and down way pre intensely than it has any business doing so. Heath doesn’t know what to do with himself for a moment. Seeing you so bare, so purposefully there - it makes all the repressed urges inside him turn into a devouring fire that leaves his body sweating and muscles tense. It somehow feels both wrong and cathartic to have someone be here with him so wholly, with such intent. This is not like fleeting glances and meek brushing of the skin that he was told over and over he was undeserving of. This here doesn’t feel wrong or undeserved. Whatever you meant by your invitation here, he can feel that you meant it. He can’t think of what he did to deserve to be chosen out of all the coworkers you two are close to. In all fairness this is so unusual because he is sure that he did not do anything. He didn’t have to dress up nicely, speak differently, act more “civilised” (we… won’t unpack that here hhh). No amount of favours and flowers caused you to trust him enough to bare yourself like that. Somehow, you just did on your own accord. Undressing takes him a second, all those notions racing in his head, having a hard time getting through over his much more thirsty thoughts as he is battling a hard time of his own. The mere fact that his is not sporting a full on erection is more of a miracle than whatever Dante does to bring him back from the dead after battles. Finally you two are naked and if he wasn’t as worked up over you, he’d get an ego boost from the way you looked at him as well. As strong as his self restraint is, even the cold water can’t keep his member flaccid once you two get into the water and he looks at the way droplets explore your body, dripping down each time you emerge from under the surface. They shine and shimmer on your soft skin before falling down and it’s safe to say he’s getting more worked up with each second. It’s even more evident when you try to hold a conversation. Although you will have to deal with his frustrated demeanour and lack of focus, he still makes it worth a while and there’s nothing to regret once your little adventure comes to an end 2/2

As soon as the question exits your mouth, Ishmael cocks her head at you. It that really what you want to do? She also asks you ‘what for?’ Though she’s certainly not as worked up about it as Heathcliff was. There’s no doubt that she has experience with bodies of water and she is the first person to inform you that bathing without any clothes is about the least practical thing you can do. Of course, jumping in with your full attire on wouldn’t work well either, but a minimal amount of clothing is actually very beneficial. She’s not judging you, but don’t expect her not to question what kind of ‘fun’ there is in skinny dipping. So it’s a whole thing and people like to partake in it? Doesn’t make much sense from a practical standpoint, but as you explain to her why it’s actually the whole point to take your clothes off when you two do it, a little smile tugs on her lips. Perhaps she does find your methods of seeking alone time… unique, but she’s not oblivious to the fact that this is you initiating an intimate moment with her. The length to which you’re going to convince her of the vital part of being naked during skinny dipping makes it hard for her not to point it out. She asks you one or two final questions that are solely spoken to fluster you a bit, but ultimately she’s open to try this out. It’s Ish that insists on setting the time and follows through to a minute, waiting to be lead by you towards your set destination. As you undress, she checks out the body of water, humming to herself and giving you updates on her finds. When she’s satisfied that no harm could be caused by your little activity, she turns to face you. Though she acts very casual, her cheeks and ears come close to matching her hair as she eyes you up and down. After a brief pause she begins to take her own clothes off. The sudden change of temperatures leaves you shivering as you two go deeper in, but Ishmael acts unphased. She notes that she did warn you that your fun adventure could turn unpleasant and lead to you catching a cold. With a small sign, she swims closely to you. Body heat transfers underwater just as easily as it does on the surface. Thus, she proposes that you two entangle your bodies closely to keep you from suffering the cruel coolness of the liquid you were so eager to submerge yourself into. Her strong arms wrap themselves around your frame and your chests press together. Though decently athletic, she’s soft and definitely warm. She holds you until it’s time to get out, making sure you don’t freeze. At least that’s the reason she gives you ;3

Right from the start, though calm and unassuming in his demeanour, Yi Sang would be pretty receptive to your idea. All nervousness you might have felt disappear as soon as he responds to your question. He might be a little quiet but it doesn’t mean he’s prudish or judgy, quite the opposite actually. So all he does is nod in agreement and ask what would be the most convenient time for you two to depart. After that, if you are vigilant enough, you might feel his eyes on you a decent amount of times. At one point you can even hear Rodya question why he’s ’smiling to himself like that’ though his answer it too quiet to decipher (and probably a bit too ambiguous to get a proper read on him). In the end he approaches you as your working hours come to an end, asking you if you’re ready to go. He’s so casual about it that it’s hard not to feel at ease, even though his veiled eagerness is definitely a bit flustering. On the way there he engages in pleasant musings with you, listening to your thoughts about the latest happenings or life in general and gladly sharing his own. He’s a bit more relaxed now, whether it’s because he’s off the clock and away from the crowded bus or because he’s speaking with you. He grows a bit more flustered when he sees you take your clothes off and avoids eye contact more than usual when he sees you looking at his naked form, but still manages not to make things too awkward. All in all it’s not a bad time and despite being somewhat a distant person, he is definitely staying pretty close to you physically, sneaking glances each time you gaze at the water you two are submerged in

With Meursault I can’t imagine a scenario that wouldn’t be a bit silly and surreal because that man really just considers private affections and urges to be not a part of his work contract and thus fails to see the purpose in carrying them out. I firmy believe even getting morning wood is a conscious choice to him. It’s not in his contract, thus he refuses to succumb to it. However, he does value your input. Whether it’s affection or ‘simple appreciation for your efficiency in the workplace’ he is willing to hear you out. It doesn’t mean you won’t have to explain and validate skinny dipping as a pastime, both in excruciating length and detail. You might have to get Dante involved, asking them to please issue an official statement allowing you to depart in purpose of decreasing stress and thus increasing productivity. Yes, it has to be phrased like that. If you get your dear (and confused) manager to comply, Meursault won’t argue. It’s not that he doesn’t want to go. But his wants are not relevant. He is an employee first, after all. It shows in the way he completely disregards any of his personal feelings on the matter. Just hums quietly and agrees. If he is flustered or nervous, it doesn’t show. The best sign you will get from him is that he seems pretty receptive, all factors considered. Another sign that he might be a bit more interested than he is lettting on is that, after your work hours end, he heads towards you with such purpose that one could assume that Vergilius himself had ordered him to. With little to no shame he says ‘the work day ended. We can go through with your plan to go skinny dipping now’. It’s said in front of everyone and you can be sure that at least a few of your fellow coworkers will have a blast bringing it up and teasing you for the next week or two. But it is a worry you will have to mull over later as, just like Meursault said, it is time for you two to leave and head towards your destination. As you lead him towards the water he stays silent and promptly begins taking his clothes off when you two stop. Even in such an intimate action he is very stoic and graceful, leaving his uniform folded by the shore and offering to fold yours as well. Without any shame in his naked, exposed self, he submerges himself. If he is cold, there’s no indication of that. It is after hours though and if you are attentive enough you will see his eyes trailing across your figure. He is yet another sinner that, if you find yourself shivering, will offer to transfer some of his warmth by standing and holding you closely. The action seems almost formal, but it’s doubtful he would propose such thing if it wasn’t you. Silence with him is comfortable. In case you initiate a conversation though, he will respond, carrying the talk effortlessly and casually. Or well, as much as his usual uptight demeanour allowed him to

There is no other way to describe the state you put Dante in other than ‘sheer panic’. For a split second they even start to wonder if they should be getting into the water at all, given their mechanical head. Only to realise that this is no different than the showers they take and will not jeopardise their life or ability to bring sinners back. If it was physically possible, you would definitely see more than one droplet of sweat rolling down their face as they look around and fiddle with their fingers. Suddenly it feels like their limbs had grown too long and their body is all wrong. They shift under your gaze, making a few surprised sounds. If you were hoping to make your poor manager a flustered mess, you sure got it. Finally they ask <is that even allowed?>. And I mean. They are the manager, so it’s not like you’re the one to tell them. They get flustered at that realisation even more. Muttering something that almost could be considered a coherent confirmation they look mortified with their own decision making skills. I mean. They are used to being mocked and used by the sinners, disregarded as a weakling by most (and that doesn’t even cover the way they get treated by those who can’t hear their speech). So it’s surprising that out of everyone you could invite, you felt the most comfortable undressing in front of them. Sure, you make a point to treat them well on the daily, but they always assumed you didn’t think very highly of them, that it was pure courtesy. The more they think about your proposition, the more anxious they get. They like you. A lot. But your question could mean that you are more fond of them than they initially assumed. And they like you so so much. Oftentimes your interactions make their day, making them feel better even after the worst of days. But they always thought it was one sided (why wouldn’t it be? You’re so lovely and they are, as of now, not even the bare minimum. Just some incompetent ‘resurrection machine’ with no memories of the past and ‘questionable humanity’). If this is some sign that you’re sending, if you really like them, they would feel bad for giving into their selfish urges. You deserve someone stronger. Someone more capable. They get so worked up over that, that when you two finally get to it and it’s time to undress they are hit with a new wave of anxiety. Once again their whole body feels so inadequate and out of place. As you stand there naked they can’t help but shrink into themselves the more your beauty hits them. They don’t even remember what is considered attractive. They know their head is definitely a turn off but as they stand with their arms folded tightly like a shield, they start to wonder if any part of them is even remotely appealing by common beauty standards. You have to snap them out of their half horny-half self deprecating gaze and lead them towards the water by their hand, making their stomach fill with butterflies. It certainly takes a while for them to relax, though they do their best to respond every time you say something. All whilst desperately reminding themselves that you aren’t able to see where their eyes are looking 0///0

Gregor is no less caught by surprise and the half grumble-half squeak he makes is definite proof. Your surprising question is definitely at least a bit dreadful. Unlike in the the scenario above, Greg is more so concerned with the physical aspect of things. He treads carefully, trying to gage if you’re not making fun of him, mocking his appearance like so many have done before. Of course, up to this point you were nothing but kind, but after being let down and made to feel lesser by everyone, there is a (rather large) part of him that wonders if you’re not about to join the rest in reminding him just how much of a lowly gross looking pest he is. His suspicion is not very subtle, so you would easily catch on. I mean, after having witnessed so many times just how awfully people spoke to him/about him, you wouldn’t struggle to, at least partially, understand the source of his approach. All you can do is be kind and hope he can read your true intent (since he won’t verbalise his exact fear, he doesn’t like to bring up his modifications if he doesn’t have to). Surprisingly, it somewhat works because he reluctantly agrees to at least try. If he changes his mind, he can just stay on the shore. That kind of setup does make things a bit better for him. If push comes to shove he figures he can just opt out, you’re not putting much pressure on him. Still, he sighs deeply and sighs, muttering something about how he ‘should be smarter at his age’. Please, that man is acting as if he’s on his deathbed whilst being 35, someone talk some sense into him…. Well, either way he follows through in his promise and goes with you at your agreed time. When someone comments on you two ‘sneaking off’ it does nothing to make the situation any more loaded. The closer you two get to the body of water, the more visibly stressed he is. Instead of engaging in his usual small talk, he stays silent as he often does when he gets reminded of his painful past. If the walk was any longer you could safely assume that he would go through his whole pack of cigarettes, if not two. He sort of catches himself spacing out by the end and tries to act like everything’s fine (I mean, in the improbable - in his eyes - scenario that you just genuinely like him, it is a pretty bad look for him to be so silent and gloomy), but there is something heavy in the air. As you reach the shore, he stands to the side. Piece by piece your uniform uncovers your naked body. Only when you’re fully undressed does he start to contemplate yet another issue that could put him in a horrific predicament. While a decent chunk of other sinners, in they were in his place, would be most worried about getting a very obvious boner, he is too preoccupied with just now beginning to stress over the sudden upsurge of strong emotion making his body transform or act on its own. And there is a definite upsurge of emotions when he lets his gaze settle on your figure. He almost doesn’t hear you when you ask if he wants to join you. He’s somewhere between flustered and worried, looking anywhere but at you whilst telling you all the ways this could go bad. Hurting you. Scaring you. Making you repulsed. That last one he doesn’t say out loud but it weights on him nonetheless. Eventually you could maybe convince him. Pressure doesn’t work but letting him know that he has a choice and you are simply glad he accompanied you is going to go a long way. Something something being denied autonomy his whole life. Or something. Aaanyways. That might just get him to join you in the water, after having taken off his clothes as well. He… doesn’t like his looks in general. As a friend of mine put it - he figures the arm at least takes the attention away from everything else. Ouch. But undressing in front of you is a huge step! Kind of has a what are we????? Ringing in his head and making his face red but he won’t say that hhhh. Only when you two go in deeper (he’s very actively trying to submerge himself in the water, though he wishes he was a bit more secure if only to have you above the surface) does he chuckle nervously

2/2 and informs you that he cannot swim. At all. You're happy to learn more about him as always but also that kind of information would be handy to know beforehand. He still doesn't trust his modifications not to act up if your naked body were to get any closer to him, so you two stay a reasonable distance away but refrain from getting ant deeper. As he relaxes a tiny bit, you get to experience his uninterrupted yapping and forget about the earlier worries for a bit. His subtle cynicism shines through his goodnatured jokes and comments and for the first tine in a while he gets to relax a bit. It might take him long to let his guard down fully but it's hard not to smile seeing him at least a bit less beaten down. All i can guarantee is that he will absolutely go over this adventure again and again in his head and for days to come will get flustered in the most random moments. But out of all the outcomes, it's not so bad to have that effect on him, is it? ;3