#i have not thought past these basic ideas and probably never will

[lady-of-ithilien]

Mundane facts character-building challenge!

Thank you so much for originating this idea and for tagging me, @ridingforrohan! I've been on vacation this week and haven't had time to sit down and write properly, but I've been really enjoying using the these sorts of headcanon and ask games as a way to more intentionally think about the characters I write for. Since I'm currently trying to get deep into Faramir's head for my WIP and for some of the sensory asks, I'll do him for this challenge.

1.) If your character had a go-to coffee order, what would it be? In the context of the setting their story takes place in, do they have a go-to morning drink? I don't think Faramir is a coffee (or even a tea) drinker, at least not consistently. If he can resist the temptation of the ring, he can also resist caffeine addiction; indeed, I think he wouldn't like to be dependent on any substance to bring him to full alertness and readiness in the morning (couldn't be me). Besides, I think he is semi-canonically a morning person, based on Sam and Frodo's interactions with him at Henneth Annûn, so I doubt he needs the energy boost anyways. I also imagine him as being rather practical and sparing, so with all of that said, I think he probably starts his day with a full, cold glass of water for the health and hydration benefits. If he had to choose a non-water beverage, for some reason I think he'd be into a V8-type vegetable or tomato juice on occasion; he says its because its full of vitamins, but I think he also just likes that it's very flavorful and a little bit different than the norm.

2.) Do they have a hair and skincare routine? If so are they consistent about it? I imagine Faramir does just the basics, but does them well so that he is always neatly groomed (at least, when his circumstances allow for it). He doesn't give much thought to his appearance beyond wanting to feel clean and put together; and indeed his grooming habits are first and foremost for his own comfort, rather than to impress anyone else. He washes his face morning and evening (when circumstances allow) and combs his hair at the same time. Given his Númenorian background, he never really grows much facial hair, but I imagine he'd neatly shave any stubble that does happen to grow. I think he is very consistent about all of this, as he is about most things.

3.) Does your character have a hobby or pastime?

Well, we know he loves to read and study. When he has the time for it, I think he enjoys reading obscure history texts, especially biographies of leaders he admires in Gondor and Númenor's past. He also reads a fair bit about military history, but not from a love of warfare or glory; rather from an abiding interest in tactics and strategy, and how he can learn from the past. I also think he enjoys poetry, particularly epic poems, and he memorizes portions of the lays that tell the history of the First Age. He recites them seldom, as he is not really one for performance, but a select few (Éowyn, on occasion; perhaps Beregond, and Boromir while he lived) have been able to cajole him into doing so (Éowyn secretly finds this habit of his very endearing, given the tradition of oral history among the Rohirrim). I also think Faramir is someone who takes pride in knowing nautral history (I've written about this in a previous headcanon ask); I think he knows the identities of most flora and fauna in Ithilien, and in the Fourth Age, I think he enjoys caring for the gardens of Emyn Arnen alongside Éowyn. Finally, I think he is one who prides himself on practical knowledge and self-sufficiency, and so despite his high station, I think he has picked up bits of trades such as mending, equipment repair, the care of horses, etc. He likes being able to apply these skills if he ever finds himself in need of them in the field; and he also takes pride in knowing how things are done. Alright, I think that's where I'm going to cut myself off for now, though I could keep going. Once more, thank you so much for the tag!! I will tag @frodosrings, @eodred, @dilettantefeminist, @hobbitwrangler, and @hobbitinnumenor (no pressure tags, if this interests you!)

[greeenchrysanthemums]

Hhhmmm I am thinking of a dungeon meshi au for the NHO in which Etho is a tall-man mage, Beef is a bull beastkin, Bdubs is a dwarf, and Doc is a centaur of some kind...

The group journeys too deep and end up fighting a dragon and Etho gets eaten by the beast right after using a teleportation spell to send the rest of them out of the dungeon, just like in the series itself.

Iskall would be the Senshi-like character who lives in the dungeon, I think. He knows everything there is to know about the dungeon and is more than willing to help them retrieve Etho. He is also a dwarf.

Canaries Gem, Pearl, False, and Grian...

Cleo taking the Kabru role...

Mad soccer/Dungeon master Scar...

[sophiamcdougall]

You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you.  I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age."  -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.  

[pitlanepeach]

The Long Way Home I Chapter Three

Oscar Piastri x Harper Grace (OFC)

Summary — When Harper, a kind girl with a guarded heart, meets rising karting star Oscar Piastri at their English boarding school, sparks fly.

It only takes one silly moment of teenaged love for their lives to change forever.

Warnings — Teenage love, growing up together, falling in love, teen pregnancy, no explicit scenes when the characters are underaged (obviously??), strong language, manipulative parents, past death of a parent, dyscalculia, hardly any angst, slice-of-life basically!

Notes — Are you ready? Because I'm not ready.

Wattpad Link | Series Masterlist

Harper regretted everything the minute they hit the incline.

"This was your idea," Oscar said, not even out of breath.

"I hate that you're actually good at this," she wheezed.

He grinned and reached for her wrist mid-stride. "We can stop."

"No." She panted. "If I stop now, I'll never start again. They'll have to airlift me out."

They were deep in the woods behind the school, the quiet part where no one really went except Oscar when he was doing his trainer-mandated endurance runs three times a week. It smelled like wet moss and pine needles and early autumn.

He slowed to a walk, just enough for her to match pace, then slung an arm lazily around her shoulders. She leaned into it, grateful and exhausted and warm in a way that had nothing to do with her temperature.

They didn't say anything for a while. Just breathed. Let the trees hush them.

Then, softly, "This is where I come when I need to think," he said.

Harper glanced up at him. "Or avoid people?"

"Same thing."

She smiled and nudged him. "You've been doing that more lately."

He shrugged. "It's been... a lot. Winning the British championship. Leading the WSK. Talking to teams. My dad's getting anxious about sponsors."

"And Mark?"

"Always calm. But I can tell he's pushing a bit harder now. It's all getting a bit more serious."

She nodded, quietly. "Yeah."

They walked until they hit a small clearing; soft grass, dappled light, the faint hum of wind through the trees.

Oscar dropped to the ground first, tugging her with him, and Harper let herself fall beside him. Their fingers tangled without thought. Her heartbeat still hadn't slowed.

"You really hate running, huh?" He teased.

She turned her head toward him. "I don't hate it."

He raised a brow.

"Okay, fine. I hate it. But I like being with you," she said, eyes soft.

Oscar looked at her for a long moment. His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes. "That's a good enough reason to torture yourself?"

She nodded.

He leaned in and brushed his lips against herself and she giggled breathily against him, shifting to her knees and pressing close to him.

And when she whispered, "Can we... just stay here a while?" He nodded, no questions, no pressure, just a gentle hand on the curve of her back.

They didn't... plan it.

They didn't even really speak about it as it happened.

They moved the way they always did — with instinct and quiet understanding, with laughter in the middle and too many nerves and awkward fumbling that quickly gave way to something softer.

They were teenagers, yes. But more than that — in that pretty little clearing, they became each other's firsts. And it wasn't perfect. It was fumbled and awkward and probably a bit out of order — but it felt right.

It felt like theirs.

Afterwards, they lay tangled in the grass and the quiet, Oscar drawing invisible lines on her shoulder, Harper tucked into his side like she belonged there and nowhere else.

"I don't think anything has ever felt that perfect," she whispered.

He kissed her again. But her lip. Made her giggle as he said, "You made it perfect."

—

Harper tiptoed into their bedroom just past curfew, hair messy, hoodie zipped up to her chin, and a dazed sort of softness clinging to her features like afterglow.

Jane was already in bed, face masked, glasses on, reading some dystopian paperback with a wildly dramatic title. She didn't look up.

"I know what you did," she sung.

Harper froze halfway across the room. "What?"

Jane turned a page. "Please. You've got pine needles in your hair and your skirt is on backwards.'"

Harper flushed. "Oh my God."

Jane finally looked at her. "Was it good?"

"...Yeah," Harper whispered, and then suddenly grinned, wide and a little overwhelmed. "Yeah, it was."

Jane set her book down and patted the edge of her bed. "Come here and tell me everything, you naughty, terrible girl."

Harper crossed the room in two steps, crawled under Jane's blanket like they were twelve again, and for the first time in a long time, let herself glow.

—

Monday morning, Harper's phone buzzed with a new message. She glanced down to see the sender: Viard Admissions.

Opening it felt like swallowing a stone.

The email was clinical, polite — an official acceptance letter to the elite boarding school in Switzerland her mother had threatened. Lines about curriculum, dates, and fees, but beneath every word, Harper could feel the cold weight of control.

She stared at the screen, heart sinking.

The rest of the day was a blur. Her smiles felt forced. Her laughs, hollow.

At lunch, she barely touched her food. During math tutoring, her mind floated, distracted by the looming exile.

Oscar noticed.

He cornered her between classes, hands stuffed in his pockets, brows furrowed.

"Hey," he said gently, "you've been off all day. What's wrong?"

Harper shook her head, trying to hide the tightness in her throat.

Oscar stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You can tell me."

She hesitated, then finally exhaled. "My mum." she admitted, voice cracking. "She emailed my mu acceptance letter. To that school in Switzerland she was threatening me with the other week."

Oscar's jaw tightened. "That's shit," he said.

"Yeah," Harper whispered. "I feel like I've found somewhere I belong, and now she's trying to take it away."

Oscar reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You do belong," he said firmly. "Here. With me. And with our friends. People who care about you."

Harper blinked back tears, the knot inside her loosening just a little. "Thanks, Osc," she said softly.

He smiled, squeezing her hand. "We'll figure it out, yeah? Together."

—

Saturday evening, their bedroom was buzzing with whispered giggles and the fresh scent of cucumber.

Harper and Jane lounged on the floor, wrapped in fluffy blankets, their faces slick with a honey-avocado facemask as they binge-watched Mean Girls for the third time that week on Jane's laptop.

"Oi, we're coming in!" Matt's voice boomed from outside their door.

The door swung open to reveal Matt, Sam, and Alfie — each armed with their own packets of face masks and towels, looking both sheepish and excited.

"Um, what the hell are you guys doing here?" Jane asked, raising an eyebrow at them.

"We're your new beauty consultants," Sam grinned, holding up a jar of what looked like expensive aloe mask (which he'd definitely stolen from whichever girl he was currently dating).

Alfie was already spreading a pink goo over his cheeks, looking hilariously out of place in the girls' soft dorm lighting.

Harper laughed despite herself. 

"Fine. Whatever. But only if you promise not to mess up the blankets," Jane bargained.

Matt plopped down on the floor, slapping a bit of mask on his nose and grinning. "Deal."

The night unfolded with half-serious skincare advice, sarcastic commentary on Mean Girls, and a lot of laughter.

At one point, Alfie tried to reenact the "You can't sit with us" line — but with a face mask so thick it practically obscured his words.

Harper messages Oscar a sneaky picture she'd taken of them.

Oscar: I asked them to keep an eye on you. Sry if they were annoying lol. Wish I was there x

Harper stared at the message and pulled her knees up to her chest with a hitched smile. 

Harper: Thank you. Love you

She held her breath as he typed.

Oscar: Love you too.

And it was that easy.

—

Jane's birthday was always celebrated in style.

The music thrummed through the room, warm and electric. Harper spotted Oscar across the room, his eyes locking onto hers with something intense — a mix of nerves and something more.

He moved toward her, hand reaching out gently to take hers. She didn't hesitate.

They stepped onto the dance floor, bodies close but careful, hearts pounding louder than the beat.

Oscar's hand found her waist, steady and reassuring. Harper's fingers curled lightly around his neck, breath catching in her throat.

They swayed together, the world narrowing to just the two of them — the noise, the lights, the rest all fading away.

His gaze dropped to her lips, and Harper's pulse quickened. When their lips met, it was soft at first — tentative, like testing the water.

But the kiss deepened, filled with all the restless energy and longing they'd been holding back.

They pulled apart slowly, foreheads resting together, breaths mingling in the quiet space between them.

"Happy birthday, Jane," Harper whispered, smiling shyly.

Oscar grinned, his fingers brushing a stray hair behind her ear. "Best party ever."

—

The door clicked softly behind them as Oscar guided Harper inside his bedroom, a quiet grin tugging at his lips.

She pointedly ignored the insane amount of mess.

"If you get caught here, we're both fucked," he whispered, pulling her close.

"I won't get caught," Harper replied, snuggling into his side as they settled onto the rumpled bed.

Oscar wrapped an arm around her and tugged her flush against him.

Then Harper shifted, her voice soft but animated. "I started this new coding camp online. It's... complicated, but kind of awesome."

Oscar tilted his head, interested. "Yeah? What's it teaching you?"

"How to build games. It's a bit elementary, but I'm learning how to work with CSS more efficiently."

Oscar smiled, fingers tracing slow circles on her arm. He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. "That's pretty cool."

Harper hummed. "I know. I'll show you the video game when it's done. Won't be anything special, but it'll still be cool."

Oscar pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "I'm glad you're here."

Harper nodded, resting her head against his chest. "Me too."

—

Harper's stomach churned as she made her way through the quiet halls toward the headmaster's office. Her mind raced with possibilities — had her mum found out about  the late-night escapades? Had somebody seen her sneaking out of the boys dorm? Was she in trouble?

She knocked lightly, then stepped inside.

The headmaster looked up, a warm smile on his face. "Harper, come in. Have a seat."

Her heart pounded, but she took the chair offered.

"I wanted to talk to you because I've been hearing some very good things," he said. "Your math level has improved significantly over the course of the term — and I understand that with dyscalculia, this is something to be very proud of."

Harper blinked, surprised.

"I understand that there's been some study sessions with a few of your classmates during your free time in the common rooms. A few teachers found the pinned-up schedules amusing. But that kind of initiative is impressive."

She let out a relieved breath, a smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, sir."

"It really is a fantastic turn around, Harper. Keep it up."

As she left the office, the tension eased from her shoulders.

Maybe things were looking up after all.

—

Oscar sat on the sofa in the common room, phone balanced on his knee, his parents' faces bright on the screen.

"It's been great to hear from you, mate," his dad said, smiling.

Oscar grinned. "Yeah. You too."

The door opened softly, and Harper stepped inside, still catching her breath from P.E., cheeks flushed.

She paused, then eased herself down next to Oscar, curling up against his side.

Oscar glanced at the screen and said, "Harper's here."

Oscar's mum smiled warmly. "Hello, Harper, sweetheart."

"Hi," Harper murmured, closing her eyes and resting her head on Oscar's shoulder.

Oscar slipped an arm around her, fingers gently brushing her hair.

The conversation continued quietly, but Harper drifted off, the soft rhythm of Oscar's voice and the warmth of the room lulling her into a calm nap.

—

The cafeteria was quiet, soft morning light filtering through the windows. Harper sat at their small table, pushing her usual bowl of Weetabix aside.

"I'm not really feeling up for that," she said softly. "Just some toast, yeah?"

Oscar looked up from his cereal, eyebrows knitting together in quiet concern but not pressing. "Yeah. Yeah, of course," he said, sliding a plate across to her. "Whatever you want."

Harper nibbled at the edges, her stomach twisting uncomfortably, but she shrugged it off.

"Just feel a bit gross, probably nothing," she muttered, a bit frustrated. "Maybe it was that chilli we had last night. It tasted weird."

Oscar reached over, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "If you want, I can find you some ginger tea? My mum always made me drink it when I got sick."

She smiled faintly, grateful for the thought. "I'll be fine. Thanks, though."

She shuffled closer to him throughout breakfast, until she was practically on his lap as the ready of the sleepy students came pouring in.

Jane slammed her tray down on the table and said, "Can you believe that the prom theme is going to be 'Pirates'. I mean — who the hell came up with that?"

Harper giggled against Oscar's shoulder.

—

The bell had just rung, and students spilled into the hallway. Harper was making her way slowly toward the common room when she spotted Oscar waiting near the door.

He caught her eye immediately and fell into step beside her.

"You feeling okay?" He asked quietly, voice low enough that no one else could hear.

Harper shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Better. Still a bit off, but it's nothing."

Oscar studied her for a moment, concern softening his features. "Want me to walk you back to your dorm? Or maybe grab some fresh air?"

She nodded, grateful for the offer. "Yeah, that'd be good."

They walked together, the afternoon sun warm on their backs, and Harper leaned just a little closer to him.

—

The last weeks of the school year felt heavier somehow — classes wrapped up, corridors buzzing with end-of-year chatter, but Harper's thoughts kept drifting.

She sat beside Oscar on the astroturf, the chill in the air making them both pull their jackets tighter.

"Four weeks," she murmured, voice soft. "That's how long you'll be gone."

Oscar nodded, eyes tracing the frost on the pitch. "I know. It'll feel like forever."

Harper looked down at her hands, twisting the little rope bracelet Oscar had given her. It was black and white; the colours of a chequered flag. The finish line.

"I'm going to miss you," she admitted, the words tasting strange but true.

Oscar reached over, fingers brushing hers. "I'll miss you too. But it's not forever. We've got FaceTime, texts..."

She smiled faintly, though the lump in her throat didn't go away. "Promise you won't forget about me," she said, voice barely above a whisper. It was ridiculous, but she was feeling just a tiny bit delicate.

"I promise, babe," Oscar said, squeezing her hand.

She took a deep breath and let his words settle something in her chest.

—

The snow had started falling just before dusk, blanketing the city in soft white as Harper and her mother walked briskly up Fifth Avenue. The holiday lights sparkled across shop windows, casting golden reflections against the ice-slicked pavement. It should have felt magical — it usually did — but this year, everything felt off.

Her mother was walking a few steps ahead, as always. Perfect posture, sleek gloves, eyes forward like she was leading a press conference instead of walking to her parents' townhouse.

"Straighten your scarf," she said without looking back. "You're not ten."

Harper didn't answer. She just adjusted the scarf, more out of habit than compliance.

Her grandparents' house was beautiful in that cold, museum-like way — all polished marble and antique chandeliers. They were kind enough, but Harper always felt like a stranger to them.

Dinner was stiff. Conversation danced around neutral topics — school, future plans, the weather in London — but never quite landed. Harper could feel her mother's eyes on her every time she spoke, like she was a sentence away from saying something inappropriate.

When dessert was served, Harper quietly excused herself and climbed the stairs to the guest bedroom, her phone already in hand.

She laid across the bedspread, scrolling through old photos of her and Oscar — blurry selfies after he'd climbed out of his kart, the one where he'd fallen asleep during a maths session, the video of him trying orange marmalade for the first time and gagging like it was poison.

Her chest ached.

There was a message waiting for her.

Oscar: Made it to the beach before Mum could shove a Santa hat on me. Send help. Miss you.

She smiled, blinking hard.

Harper: You'd better FaceTime me tomorrow. Or I swear I'll swim to Australia just to see you.

—

Harper sat cross-legged on the guest bed, the soft hum of New York traffic muffled by snow and distance. Laughter floated up faintly from the living room downstairs — the clink of glasses, her grandfather's booming voice, her mother's delicate laugh, like porcelain.

She stared at her phone until it buzzed, the screen lighting up with one name.

FaceTime Incoming: Oscar

She answered immediately.

Oscar's face appeared, backlit by sunshine. He was sitting outside, shirtless and tanned, with the ocean glinting behind him.

"Merry Christmas," he said, grinning.

Harper smiled, the tightness in her chest easing a little just at the sound of his voice. "Merry Christmas, beach boy."

"Snow yet?"

"Everything's white. Including the tablecloth. And every single guest."

He huffed out a dry laugh. "You okay?"

Harper nodded, though it wasn't entirely true. "Better now."

He looked at her through the screen, really looked. "It's been weird not seeing you almost every day."

"It's horrible," she admitted, flopping back on the bed and bringing the phone with her. "She made me wear this velvet dress that itches like hell. I would sell my soul for a hoodie and one of your perfect plates of breakfast toast."

Oscar chuckled, lying back on a sun chair, mirroring her position. "We had a barbecue. Dad burned the sausages. Classic."

There was a pause — not awkward, but full.

"I miss you," Harper said softly, picking at a fraying thread on the sleeve of her dress.

"I miss you too," Oscar replied, quieter this time.

Neither of them said it, but it hung in the space between them: I love you — unspoken, but understood.

"We'll be back home soon," she said, more to herself than to him.

"Ten days."

"Not like I'm counting."

Oscar smiled. "I'll call you tonight. Properly. When the house is quiet."

"Okay."

"Go be elegant and miserable," he teased.

"And you go burn in the sun."

"I'm wearing SPF."

She smiled again, softer now, the ache still there, but bearable.

"Bye, Osc."

"Bye, Harps."

—

The train ride had been long. The platform cold. And Harper's suitcase wheel had started squeaking halfway across campus.

But none of that mattered the second she saw him.

He was already there — leaning against the gate near the common room, hoodie half-zipped, hair sun-lightened from two weeks under the Australian sky. He looked taller. Or maybe she just missed him that much.

Oscar straightened the second their eyes met.

Neither of them said anything at first. He just stepped forward and took her suitcase handle from her hand like it was second nature, like she hadn't been gone for 28 days, 16 FaceTimes, and countless messages.

Harper looked up at him, trying to smile but it wobbled. "Hey."

"Hi," he said, and his voice caught on it.

She opened her arms before she could think better of it, and he pulled her into him like he'd been holding his breath since December.

His nose tucked against her temple. "You're freezing," he murmured.

"You're warm," she whispered back.

They stood there for a while, unmoving, while students bustled past with post-holiday energy and distant laughter filled the air. None of it touched them.

Finally, Harper leaned back just enough to look up at him. "You got taller."

"You got sadder," he said gently. "But you're back now."

She nodded, eyes stinging. "I missed this."

"I missed you."

They didn't kiss — not here, not in-front of everyone — but his hand found hers and didn't let go as they walked the familiar path toward the dorms.

Back to routine. Back to toast and maths study and Astro nights and quiet, stolen moments.

Back to where they belonged.

—

Harper was half-draped across Jane's bed, a leftover Quality Street melting on her tongue, while Jane rooted through her suitcase with dramatic flair.

"I forgot how depressing the lighting is in this room," Jane muttered. "It's like they want us to slowly wilt."

"You're very tan though," Harper said through a yawn. "So it looks fine."

Jane straightened up triumphantly, holding up a pink silk scrunchie like it was a crown jewel. "There it is."

Harper blinked. "That's what you were hunting for?"

"Excuse you — this scrunchie survived the Atlantic Ocean." Jane dropped it on her desk and flopped beside Harper. "I swam on Christmas Day. It was freezing. I highly recommend getting your period before beach season. It was the first year I didn't have to stress about leaking in the Mediterranean and attracting sharks."

Harper smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

A beat.

And then another.

And then—

Her face drained of colour.

"Oh."

Jane tilted her head. "What?"

Harper sat up, very suddenly, like the air had gone too tight. "I haven't... I haven't had mine."

Jane blinked. "Like—"

"I didn't think about it, I just—" Harper's voice trailed off as she stared at the wall. "I've felt sick. Tired. I haven't wanted my Weetabix."

Jane was still for a beat, then reached out and put a steadying hand on Harper's knee. "Okay. Breathe. It could be stress. Travel. Life."

Harper nodded slowly, but her brain was moving a million miles an hour. "Yeah. Yeah. Totally. Stress."

But Jane could see it in her eyes.

That switch had flipped.

Something inside Harper knew — whether or not she was ready to say it out loud.

—

She didn't knock.

She didn't even hesitate.

Harper shoved open the door to the boys' dorm common room, heart in her throat, fingers trembling, her mind screaming in spirals. Oscar was on the floor with Alfie and Matt, half-focused on a Mario Kart match, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, looking so calm it almost made her dizzy.

He looked up immediately.

And stood up faster than she'd ever seen him move.

"Hey— Harps?"

She just stared at him for a second, trying to speak, trying to make the words form. She couldn't do this with anyone else. Only him.

"I—" Her voice broke. "Can we talk? Please?"

"Yeah. Of course." He was already crossing the room, grabbing her hand, guiding her down the hallway toward his room without another word. The door closed behind them with a soft click.

Oscar turned to her, brows knit with concern. "What happened? What's wrong?"

She opened her mouth, closed it, then forced the words out before she could second guess them.

"I think I might be pregnant."

Silence.

Not judgment, not panic — just... stillness. The way Oscar always went quiet before a race, centring himself.

Harper blinked fast. "I haven't had my period. I've been nauseous, tired, my brain's a mess. And I didn't notice— I didn't think—" Her voice cracked. "I'm not saying I am. But I might be. And I don't know what to do."

Oscar stepped forward and gently took her hands in his, grounding her.

"Okay," he said simply, his voice steady. "Fuck. Okay. We'll figure this out."

Harper let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. "I didn't know what to do. I just panicked."

Oscar's eyes softened. "Yeah but you did the right thing. You came to me."

She nodded, chest tight, and leaned into him. His arms wrapped around her without hesitation, warm and sure.

"Whatever happens," he murmured, "we'll handle it."

Harper sniffled. "I'm fifteen, Oscar. Fifteen."

He closer his eyes. "Shit, yeah. I know. Me too." He laughed. 

Nothing about this situation was funny.

She couldn't help but laugh too, a warped, wet kind of sound. 

—

The chemist in the village was almost empty. Harper kept her head down, winter hat pulled low, scarf wrapped high. Oscar stood beside her, tall and quiet, his hoodie sleeves tugged nervously over his hands. He didn't say much — didn't need to — just waited beside her.

They didn't look at the packaging too long. Just grabbed the one that looked familiar, Oscar paid in cash, and they left without a word.

—

Back at school, they slipped into the small student toilet block behind the science building — the one Oscar had jimmied the lock on once during a thunderstorm. It was quiet. Private. The only place that didn't feel like it had ears and eyes everywhere.

Harper set the box down on the sink with trembling hands.

"You don't have to stay," she whispered.

Oscar shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere."

She nodded. "Okay."

She went in, closed the door, and a moment later, came back out holding the test in shaking fingers. He didn't look at it. He just held her free hand and guided her to sit on the windowsill.

They set it down on the ledge between them.

A timer on Oscar's phone started counting down.

Two minutes.

Neither of them spoke.

Oscar's thumb stroked the inside of her palm, rhythmic and slow.

Harper stared at the test, as if watching it would make it kinder.

Her voice was barely a breath. "I'm scared."

"I know," Oscar said. "Me too."

Thirty seconds left.

The world outside the window was silver-grey, students scattered across the grass in the distance, oblivious. Everything felt fragile.

Fifteen seconds.

Ten.

Five.

Harper's grip tightened.

"Do we look?" She asked.

Oscar nodded once. "Together."

She reached for the test with trembling fingers.

—

The rain had started again. A soft pattering against the windows that filled the silence like a lullaby.

Oscar lay behind her on her narrow dorm bed, one arm around her waist, the other tucked beneath his head. Harper was curled into herself, facing the wall, her fingers gripping the edge of the duvet like it might keep her from floating away.

He hadn't said much when she showed him the test. Just took one look at her face, reached out, and pulled her into him.

Now he was just holding her.

Breathing with her.

Letting her be silent.

Her cheek was damp against the pillow, but she wasn't crying anymore. She felt wrung out, like all the air had been squeezed from her lungs, like her bones were vibrating with too many thoughts that had nowhere to go.

Oscar pressed his nose into the back of her shoulder. His voice was a whisper. "It's going to be okay."

She didn't answer. Just nodded once.

He didn't say it to convince her. He said it because it was the only thing he could offer — his calm. His presence. His belief in her, in them, in the idea that they'd somehow survive this.

His hand slid down to rest gently over hers.

She swallowed hard. "I don't know how far along I am."

"We'll figure it out."

She turned in his arms then, finally facing him, her eyes red-rimmed and tired. "I don't feel like a real person right now."

Oscar blinked slowly, brushing her hair back from her forehead. "Yeah. I feel a bit out of it too."

She let out a small, watery laugh. 

And then she tucked her head into his chest, and he held her tighter, as if he could anchor her to something solid.

Outside, the rain kept falling.

Inside, it was quiet.

NEXT CHAPTER

[iniquitousyearning]

tom riddle. | everyone has their vices

summary: tom riddle tells you he jerks off (and more) to relieve stress. just….in typical tom fashion.

word count: 2k

tags: 18+, suggestive content, so much tension you’ll choke on it, frustrating subliminal tom riddle (though reader is just as stubborn), flirting, masturbation insinuation, make out sesh.

"But how?”

Tom inhaled sharply, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he prepared to reexplain for what felt like the hundredth time. "Because, the slightest distraction or doubt can result in consequence—as I said previous. A momentary lapse in any of the areas we covered will result in splinching."

You blinked, staring at him like he'd spoken an alternate language. The late night and the relentless focus on Tom's face for the past four hours had blurred everything into a haze and dulled his voice into a monotonous hum, blending with the soft rustle of parchment and the distant lapping of the lake against the window. He could see it—your disconnection, the way his words slipped past you like water through fingers.

He exhaled, slumping back in his chair, a hand raking through his dark hair in frustration. "Should we call it a night?"

"Probably," you muttered, your gaze drifting to the window behind him, the surface of the Black Lake rippling under the moonlight. "You've overloaded my brain. I stopped comprehending two hours ago."

You felt Tom's eyes narrow slightly as he studied you—you must have looked a mess. Strands of hair had fallen out of your ponytail, your uniform shirt was half undone, and there was a dullness in your eyes that spoke of more than just exhaustion. A week bedridden with the flu had set you back, and now, despite Tom's best efforts, you felt like you were drowning.

He knew you were stressed beyond measure—you were normally not like this.

"You need to relax," he said, the words landing with the flatness of an undisputed fact. "You won't retain anything in the state you're in."

"How can I relax when I'm two weeks behind? And exams are next week?" Your voice cracked with the weight of your frustration as you leaned your elbows on his desk, burying your face in your hands. "I'm helpless, Tom. I know you know it."

"Would I be sitting here wasting my time if I thought you were helpless?" He watched you, almost clinical in his intensity as he spoke—tone matter-of-factly, devoid of any false comfort. It cut through your despair with ease. Tom Riddle never did anything without purpose; if he was here, it meant he believed you were worth the effort. "My suggestion is that you reset your brain," he continued, his voice steady like his fingers as he shut the textbook between you. "Take a walk. Have a cold shower. Jump in the lake. Whatever you need to do to decompress."

The simplicity of his suggestions almost made you laugh, but it was the kind of laughter that would easily turn into tears if you let it. Tom had a way of stripping everything down to its most basic form—of cutting through your stress and chaos and presenting you with a simple, unvarnished answer.

You were a mess, and he was telling you to fix it—no coddling, no pity, just a clear-eyed assessment of the situation. And somehow, that was exactly what you needed to hear. You appreciated him for it.

"Decompress, huh. I don't believe I've ever done such a thing." You leaned back in your chair with a lopsided grin, arms crossed. "Is that what you do? Jump in the lake?"

Tom let out a huff, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in what was almost—almost—a smile.

"Something like that."

Interesting—Tom Riddle, always so composed, every inch of him meticulously put together, as if the mere idea of stress was a foreign concept. You couldn't imagine him spiralling, not the way you did—frankly, you couldn't imagine him ever feeling overwhelmed at all.

The curiosity gnawed at you, wondering what he did to unwind—what rituals or habits did the untouchable Tom Riddle indulge in when no one was watching?

"Something else, then?" You pushed it further, gently, your eyebrow arching just slightly.

For a moment, his gaze flickered, something dark and inscrutable passing behind his eyes. You knew he was considering your words, debating whether to indulge your curiosity or keep you at arm's length. Such a fascinating creature he was—all brick walls and boarded windows—you had a feeling he was going to shut this down.

Until, he leaned forward.

"If you're asking if I have habits—I suppose I do," he said, your eyes drawn to the way his lips moved, the way his voice curled around each syllable. "Habitual things I do to—relax, let's say."

You hummed and pulled your lower lip between your teeth as you considered him—fighting to hide your amusement. That was the biggest personal moment you've had out of Tom Riddle since the day you met him in first year where he told you his name.

"Well, isn't that a revelation," you teased, toying with the edge of your skirt. "Just the mere insinuation that Tom Riddle has to do something to relax—as though he's not always cool, calm, and collected like he lets on."

His lips curled slightly at your words, his gaze dipping briefly from your eyes to your mouth, trailing lower in a slow, deliberate sweep that brushed over your chest before landing back on the desk.

Your brain buffered, tingles in the wake of his wrath. He picked up his quill, spinning it idly between his fingers. 

"Everyone has their vices—if they don't, they end up like you," he said, his tone laced with an ambiguity that made you wonder just how deep his ran. "Perhaps it's time you found some."

You scoffed, leaning further back in your chair, the fabric of your shirt pulling tighter across your chest. You forced yourself to ignore the visceral reaction your body had as you caught the brief flicker in Tom’s gaze—the way his eyes darted up to the movement before he quickly masked his expression.

For a moment, you thought you might be imagining things, but the tensing of your thighs betrayed a reaction you couldn't quite shake.

"And what are yours?" You asked after a moment, your voice softer now. Tom Riddle was many things, but he was not a conversationalist—and yet here he was, indulging your curiosity instead of shutting it down. He was humouring you, and you intended to make the most of it. "Decompressing with bland tea and ancient tomes? Sneaking into the Restricted Section when no one's looking?"

“Mm, no.” Tom let out a snort, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips— "I’d say my vices are less...pedestrian, than all that."

The quill in his fingers stilled—the change in his demeanour was subtle, though you felt it in the air—electric, making your pulse quicken. He traced the edge of the feather with the tip of his thumb, the motion slow and deliberate, and you found yourself inexplicably distracted, fighting the urge to shift in your seat.

Why in Merlin's name was that so damn captivating?

"Less pedestrian?" You echoed, curiosity at an all-time-high. "What do you do, then, Tom? Dance naked by the light of the full moon?"

"I should hope not," he laughed—a low, rumbling sound that resonated in the pit of your stomach as you giggled alongside him. The quill twirled again in his fingers, the motion languid, almost hypnotic. "No, I'd say my vices are more...private. Less suited to polite company. Perhaps I should let you guess since the mystery of it seems to fascinate you so."

The look he gave you made you stiffen, a challenge—no, a dare—clear in his deep, dark eyes. Your thighs involuntarily reacted again—less suited to polite company?

"I believe I've already made several guesses," you tried to compose yourself with a shallow inhale. "I'm quite at a loss."

He shook his head, stifling his grin. "Clearly, you lack imagination."

"Clearly, you enjoy being cryptic." You shot back, unable to stifle yours.

At that, he hummed—it was obvious your stubbornness was as entertaining to him as it was aggravating. Perhaps you could say the same. He set the quill down, his eyes on yours as the fingers of his free hand began to tap idly on the desk—and then his gaze dipped again, tracing the curve of your lips before drifting lower, a slow, deliberate path that made you tense.

For a moment, you wondered if the tension in the air was all in your head. Was he always this adventurous with his eyes?

"When the mind is under strain," he began, his voice smooth, clinical, "it's a result of an excessive influx of neural signals. Synapses misfire, disrupting cognitive function. A basic physiological response." He watched your reaction closely, as though gauging the impact of his words. "To address such a state, one must reestablish control over these neural pathways. To be direct, I find the most efficacious methods involve tasks that stimulate the senses without being emotionally or physically taxing. A simple, repetitive action can suffice—something arbitrary enough to encourage the subconscious to lose focus."

You fought the urge to scowl at his change in speech—Tom knew damn-well just how overwhelmed your brain was—and then continued to recite scientific jargon as if it were his full-time occupation.

You’d almost be mad if it weren’t for the fucking words that stuck to the inside of your ears—stimulate, repetitive, lose focus—

"You're a walking textbook, aren't you?" You continued to play it off—you didn't want to make assumptions—you hated the way he danced around the edges of things, never quite saying what he meant. "Be specific."

Tom's grin grew as he leaned in slightly, his fingers stilling on the desk between you. "I find tasks that involve the hands particularly useful. Something that can be repeated in a smooth, steady rhythm, with little conscious thought required. The ability to lose oneself in the pattern is key."

Merlin help you—the atmosphere in his dorm had changed with those words; the air turned viscous, cloying, each breath sticking in your throat like syrup—hands, steady rhythm, lose oneself—the words pulsed with implication, even if it was buried under layers of his typical, infuriating ambiguity.

He was absolutely referring to—no—no assumptions—

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "So...knitting?"

The words tumbled out, a weak attempt at humour to cut through the tension, but they hung lifeless in the air—as hollow as the chuckle that rumbled from Tom's chest.

His eyes traced over you, lingering in a way that made your skin prickle. "Not exactly."

"Hm. A different kind of needlecraft, perhaps." You shifted in your seat, trying to inject a semblance of nonchalance into your posture.

But you weren't fooling him—you never had—

"How much longer are you going to play coy?" He murmured, the amusement clear from light-years away.

Heat surged up your neck, the flush burning across your cheeks, betraying you—"how much longer are you going to continue holding your tongue?"

Your voice came out sharper than intended, laced with a challenge you barely felt capable of meeting. You and Tom had always been cordial, the slight suggestive comment here and there, mostly from your end. But this—oh, this was different—this was uncharted territory.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "Would you prefer I do something else with it?"

Oh, fuck yes you would—

"You're being obtuse," you practically choked out, though the words lacked the bite you intended. "Entirely vague."

"I'm being clear," he countered, his gaze never wavering. "But you're being obstinate—willfully ignorant to my meaning because you refuse to acknowledge it without me saying it outright."

The air between you dissipated—you tried to grasp for a coherent thought, something to regain your footing, but your mind faltered, stumbling over the implications of what he was saying. His eyes never left yours—and you watched them deepen in colour, black pupils eating away the rich brown of his irises, darkening with something that made the room feel unbearably small.

You could feel the heat rising in your body, pooling low in your belly. How did he do this to you? How did he turn you inside out with nothing more than words and that infuriating, knowing smile?

"Tell me," you breathed, hating how desperate the words sounded, "what do you do with your hands, Tom?...how do you use them to relieve...stress?"

The second those words left your lips you realized what was truly happening here—Tom Riddle never did anything without intent—every word, every pause, every smirk, was a thread in a web he was weaving, intricate and inescapable. He'd led you here, gently, subtly, with the barest hint of force, and now that you were caught, you realized that you wanted this.

Needed it.

And it was clear he did too. Otherwise you'd never have gotten to this point—he wanted you to push, to dig deeper—your stomach twisting as you watched Tom wet his lips, but there was no smirk on them this time.

Only something intense—jaw set, eyes focused—

"I think we both know what I do with my hands," he whispered, the double entendre clear in every syllable— "you knew exactly what I was insinuating the moment this started."

Your breath snagged in your throat, a tremor running through your entire body as the warmth pooling in your belly began to spread, sinking lower, threading through every nerve. Your vision narrowed, centering entirely on him—his eyes, the curve of his lips, the way his presence seemed to devour the room, leaving no space for anything else.

And then, you nodded, the movement barely there—a subtle acknowledgment of your understanding.

"Do you touch yourself, Tom?..." the words escaped you, a soft, breathy whisper that you could hardly believe were your own. "Or do you touch someone else?"

For a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze, suspended in the intensity of those questions.

The world narrowed to the point of his gaze, the sharp line of his jaw—the reality of where you were, what you were doing, almost seemed to blur—trapping you both in a moment that felt surreal, like a scene caught in the still frame of a film. Never—never—had you imagined a conversation like this with Tom Riddle, hardly your acquaintance, the untouchable genius of the school.

And yet here you were, heart pounding, every nerve on fire, and Merlin help you, you were going to wring every drop of this out for as long as you could.

He swallowed, and you watched the movement, entranced. "Depends on my level of stress."

Tom's expression was unreadable—except for the subtle tension in his shoulders as he leaned back, spreading his legs a fraction wider, the fabric of his dress shirt straining against the flex of his biceps—

"...and how stressed are you right now?" You whispered, reckless, without a trace of restraint.

Tom's throat bobbed with another swallow, a gesture so simple yet so charged that it sent your pulse roaring in your ears.

"Quite," he murmured, his voice taut, stretched thin. "The past four hours have been rather taxing—wouldn't you agree?”

A nervous laugh bubbled up, escaping before you could stop it. You tried to steady yourself, drawing in a slow, shaky breath. You had never felt so intensely aroused and frustrated in your life, and you knew, without a bloody doubt, that he was perfectly aware of it.

"Are you trying to imply l'm the cause of your stress?"

"On the contrary," he said, his gaze raking over you, his eyes dark and hungry, as if you were something to be consumed, devoured whole. "I'm saying you've exacerbated it. Though I'll concede a fair share of the responsibility—as it is mine, after all."

"How kind of you," you whispered, voice trembling with the effort to maintain composure. "To admit your own fault in the matter."

"I'm a kind man." His voice was a low purr, the kind that seeped into your bones, making your blood thrum with anticipation. "I like to take responsibility for my shortcomings."

Yes, yes—so very kind—

"Then take it."

The words left your mouth before you could second-guess them, a challenge thrown into the thick, suffocating air between you. The tension was a living thing now, colled tight, ready to snap, turning your insides into a churning mess of want and need.

Tom arched an eyebrow.

"Take it?" He echoed. "And what exactly do you want me to take, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart.

The pet name rolled off his tongue with a casual ease that sent a flush of heat straight to your core— the simple word wielded like a weapon, striking you down with its intimacy. There was no denying the power that name held over you, especially when coming from his lips.

"The responsibility..." you whispered, the words trembling as they left you, barely more than a breath. "…for your..." you hesitated, your eyes locked onto his as you finally said, "…shortcomings."

For a moment, everything hung in the balance—until, oxygen extinct, Tom leaned forward, closing the space between you until he was so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with your own.

Curse this fucking desk between you.

"My shortcomings," he repeated, his eyes flicking to your lips. "Is that all I should take responsibility for?"

"Are you suggesting..." you leaned in as well, the distance between you shrinking to a breath—your gaze drawn to his own mouth—the plush of it, how bad you wanted to feel it against yours, "...there's something else you wish to take responsibility for?"

Said mouth curled into the faintest hint of a smile and witnessing the shift this close felt dangerously religious—as though you'd experienced something sacred not many have before—part of you knew you did.

"Many things," he whispered, the sound soft as velvet, dangerous as a blade. "The list is long and varied..."

The heat in your body was painful—you had never been this close to him, never felt the full weight of his presence bearing down on you like this. His cologne—faint, rich, and so distinctly Tom—overwhelmed you, the same scent he'd worn since you first met him.

It was infuriating, how everything he did was so subtle, simple—yet so fucking intoxicating, so irresistible.

"...I'm not quite sure where to start." His eyes flicked back to yours.

Every word that fell from his lips was a new form of torture, his dark eyes pinning you in place, searing into you. The heat radiating from his body made you want to retreat, to find air, to find space—but the thought of putting any distance between you was unbearable, the need to be near him overriding everything else.

You'd rather lose consciousness than pull back.

"Why don't you start..." you whispered, tilting your head, your teeth grazing your bottom lip. "By fixing the insatiable ache in my curiosity...the one you created when you mentioned how you use your hands...to relieve stress..."

He exhaled, the sound rumbling from his chest like a growl and you could almost imagine that if he parted his lips, you'd glimpse fangs behind them right now—you'd never seen him like this—his gaze predatory, fucking ravenous, and it was as though he could devour you whole if he so chose to.

But you knew better. Tom Riddle would never be so crude. His methods of torment were deliberate—Methodical. A slow depletion of your senses until you're gasping for something only he can give you.

Then, in a voice that was all gravel and silk, he whispered, "is that all that's aching...your...curiosity?"

"Gods no—"

But you never finished that thought—because in an instant, his hand was tangled in your hair, pulling you forward with a force that sent you careening over the desk and into him—Tom Riddles lips crashed against yours, and it was like drowning, his tongue invading your mouth, stealing your breath and dragging all ounces of your cognitive ability along with it.

You were half out of your chair, caught in the gravity of him, unsure if your legs were even working, or if it was his grip alone that held you upright. His free hand found your wrist, pinning it to the desk as his mouth worked you with a fervour that made your head spin. The kiss was incendiary, a wildfire scorching its way through every nerve in your body, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake—the intensity of it, the sheer, unrelenting pressure of his lips on yours, made you wonder how you survived this long without it.

All the heat in your blood pooled low, deep between your thighs, an ache so profound it threatened to consume you. Tom Riddle was about to show you precisely how he used his hands to relieve stress, and Gods, if that wasn’t the only thing you’d ever needed right now.

[ao3commentoftheday]

What are your thoughts on commenting with a goal to motivate author to write more?

I know there are not thought-crimes but I'm kinda feeling unsure about myself rn. There is a fic that I really liked and I think about rereading it. It also wasn't updated in quite some time and I know that generally authors are often motivated by comments

I'm thinking about making comments as I reread and the put them into the chapters. The thing is, my biggest motivation with it is to encourage author to write more and it makes me feel, idk, slimy? Like, they wouldn't know that that's why I commented and they would be just normal comments (+ I never ever even put anything vagueing about updates like "I can't wait to see how it will turn out!" or something, so I'd certainly not be pushy about it) but still I feel bad like I'm manipulating the author :/

So, yeah. Basically, do feel like underlying motivations matter if there is no discernible difference between the comments?

If you do a good thing for a selfish reason, is the thing still good?

From that author's perspective, I'd say probably.

If I received a slew of comments on one of my fics, I'd be elated. Depending on how many spoons I had, I'd even reply to them all.

It might or might not motivate me to continue writing, though. If I don't have an idea for where to go next then receiving a comment likely won't get me past that block.

As long as you're content with just brightening someone's day without a guarantee that it'll get you what you want in the end, then I say have at it. To paraphrase a post I saw on my dash recently, a rich man who builds an orphanage because of his own selfish reasons has still given orphans a place to go.

That's how I see it, but let's see what the rest of the blog thinks.

[changisworld]

“Why do you make me feel like this, pretty?”

fuckboy!hyunjin x reader

Word count; 5,902

Summary: After hyunjin took your virginity, you grew attached despite trying your hardest not to. You find out he hooked up with someone the day after it happened which broke your heart, making you cry.. but of course, hyunjin caught you crying. He didn’t really know what he felt, it being new to him, as he tries to refuse the silly ideas popping into his brain, he can’t ignore how much you being upset is making his heart.. hurt?? Surely he doesn’t like you too..?

18+ ONLY, MDNI, SMUT UNDER THE CUT.

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here

part 3 here

**This can be read on its own despite it probably being confusing but i highly recommend reading part 1!**

SMUT WARNINGS: spit/drool, PIV, needy reader, pet names, shyish reader, rimming( f rec), oral ( f rec), fingering (f rec), finger sucking, unprotected sex, jealous jinnie, edging???,pull out method, literally 1 spank, slight dacryphilia, jealous jinnie, soft jinnie, kind jinnie, hyunjins a tease obvs, slight aftercare, wayyy fluffier ending than last time you're welcome!!

You & Hyunjin walk off campus, you still hiding your face from him, embarrassed at the tears now staining your cheeks, your face tinged red, you also don't fail to miss the looks you & Hyunjin are receiving from other students walking past the both of you, his arm still around you & you can't help but feel judged, so you push his arm off.

"Forget the cafe, I'm just gonna go home, I feel.. sick. I'll see you later Hyunjin." you murmur, still not looking at him in the eye.

"Y/n stop being weird, just cmon. I promise to cheer you up." He replies back, reaching out to cup your cheek but you move your head before murmuring a quick 'bye' before walking away from him hastily, leaving him standing there, confused & a bit annoyed.

He watches as you turn the corner & he huffs before kicking a stone nearby. 'Why do I care she's actually upset? 'What did I do wrong?' 'I hope she's okay' & 'Shit how can I apologise' are all thoughts that race through his head, no matter how much he tries to shake it all off, he genuinely feels guilty. But why? He never feels sorry for the girls he fucks n chucks, so what makes it different? He barely even knows you? He only spoke to you for a week which is barely anything. He sighs before pulling out his phone & going onto his contacts, about to call Joy, another one of his side things, before deciding against it, instead calling his friend Jisung& asking to meet him.

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Twenty minutes later Jisung meets him at the local dog walking park & they end up sitting on a bench, talking about random stuff before the topic of you comes up, but not because of Hyunjin.

“You’re lucky you got to partner up with y/n for that assignment, I got put with Changbin so obviously i fucking failed, tryna do that presentation on the spot was absolute torture, you still talk to her? she seems quiet as hell.” Han sighs, sipping his bubble tea through his straw & Hyunjin laughs.

“Ay! I actually helped her so shut up, just because you both have no more than eight brain cells, i’m just proof there is such a thing as looks & beauty. Nah, we haven’t really spoken since, just been busy i suppose & what the hell am i meant to say to her?” Hyunjin replies, a quick chuckle leaving his lips.

“What do you mean you’re proof that looks n beauty exist, y/n basically invented it you idiot. Wha'cha mean what are you meant to say to her? Did you fuck her too or something?" Han questions, leaning forward.

Hyunjin just kisses his teeth before nodding & Han just raises his eyebrows. "fuck, I didn't think someone like y/n would get around that way. Can you do me a favour n start speaking to her again n put in a good word about me I wanna approach her but she feels intimidating, you get me?" Once Hyunjin hears these words, a bad & gross feeling bubbles up in his stomach.. is what he feeling... jealousy?

"Uhh.. you're really not her type, she's not up for dating, she told me. Go try your luck with someone else." Hyunjin says in a bitter tone, not looking at the man in front of him & Han scoffs.

"You chat shit Hyunjin, stop gatekeeping! I'll just use my charms & trust me, we'll be fucking a week later n dating two weeks later." Jisung jokes, patting Hyunjins leg but he pushes it off.

"You're ridiculous Jisung, she won't want what's between your legs." Hyunjin spits out before standing up off the bench, stretching out & sighing. "I have things to do, you can keep day dreaming, I'll see you later. choke on your boba." Hyunjin jokes with Han & he spits out a bubble as a response before he walks away, leaving Han on the bench.

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He walks through the rest of the park, thinking about Hans words & he can't get over it. 'Why am I so jealous?' 'Who does he honestly think he is talking about y/n like that?' 'They wouldn't even look good together.' are things that keep racing through his head & he is getting more pissed off as the seconds go by.

He gets out of the park & he keeps walking on the pavement, not having an actual destination in mind.. until he seen you walking out of a random convenience store across the street & a lightbulb lights up behind his brown eyes.

He picks up the pace of his walk as he follows just far enough behind you on the other side of the road until you reach your apartment complex before entering & he can't help but feel like an absolute creep, but that doesn't stop him. He screenshots his location on find my Iphone, just so he won't forget where to go later on as he walks back the way he came, heading to the main line of shops near the campus.

He strolls around for around twenty minutes, looking at random little trinkets, bookmarks with the college logo on it, which he cringes at due to the look of it, before he keeps walking until he reaches a little florist shop.

He enters it, aimlessly walking around, fingertips grazing over a few roses & tulips, admiring the pretty colours as he sets his eyes on a bouquet of lillies. He picks it up, giving himself a better look at it before deciding he is happy with it, heading to the counter.

He places them down, not paying attention to the cashier as he looks at the little vases beside the register.

"Can I get this pink vase to- ohh, I didn't know you worked here Jennie, hiya." he says, surprised. "Sure. You know, Lisa doesn't like lillies, I suggest you get her daffodils, her favourite colour being yellow n all." she responds, smiling up at him. "Ah, they.. they're not for Lisa so I'll pass. Can you fill up the vase with a bit of water too? I think that's what you're supposed to do, right?" he says quickly, hand coming up to the back of his neck, the awkwardness filling the small space.

"mhmm. £29.11 is the total." She says in a cold voice, taking the tag off the vase as she turns around to the small sink, filling up the vase 1/3 of the way. She dumps the bouquet in the vase with no care at all before pushing it towards him, giving him the card machine. He pays, a strained, awkward smile on his face before saying thank you & leaving.

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After buying you a box of chocolates & a Vanilla bean smelling candle & following the path you walked on earlier, he ends up back outside your apartment complex.

He sits on the front steps, waiting for someone to leave the building so he can catch the door & once he is inside, he begins knocking on every door, talking to each person who answers in a quiet voice, Ignoring the confused looks of other students who recognise him who are all definitely wondering why he is knocking doors looking for you, making sure you wouldn't hear him & then refuse to open the door.

He reaches the fourth floor, mouth slightly dry from all the talking he has had to do & he is beginning to doubt his memory. He knocks on the third door & takes a step back, waiting for an answer as he hears footsteps & he can't help the smile that spreads across his face as you are the one who open the door.

"Surprise, & I'm not just talking about my pretty face. Can I come in?" he chirps as he raises his arms, making sure you see what he has brought despite it being almost all you can see, not missing the chance to give you an up & down look, you wearing black tight shorts & an oversized off the shoulder graphic shirt.

"Hyunjin, I told you I was sick.. How the hell do you know where I live?" you question, honestly just confused. "Does that matter? I asked a question, Don't leave me standing here I went to like twenty doors to find you!" he pouts. You roll your eyes & begin to shut the door but Hyunjin stops it with his foot.

"Okay okay okay! I followed you, but not in a creepy way I swear! I just wanted to.. apologise? But I knew you would ghost me If I text you." he says in a sulky voice. You groan before opening the door back open, his pretty face poking through the gap. "You are a creep, you know that? Why you apologising?" you question him, crossing your arms, not amused but slightly flattered despite not showing it.

"I'm not going to broadcast my deep, heart warming words in the corridor for everyone to hear, just let me inside, pleaseee." he pouts again & you just sigh before moving out of the way so he can enter, taking his shoes off as soon as they touch your laminate flooring.

You walk into your connected living room & kitchen before sitting on your corner kitchen counter, your legs swinging off it as Hyunjin follows behind you, looking around at the cute random decorations hung up on your walls & on the mantle pieces.

He places the flowers on your coffee table before walking back into your small kitchen & leaning on the opposite counter top, still holding the chocolates & candle.

"Okay, Can I give you my apology now? I rehearsed this to make sure I get everything right." He tries to joke but you just look at him with a blank expression before nodding, encouraging him to continue. "Okay, I didn't realise how much I've upset you & I'm sorry for not trying to check up on you sooner & stopped speaking to you. I partially didn't even mean to ghost you but I also genuinely thought you wouldn't speak to me anymore since you're always so concentrated on lessons & studying, I thought you would have thought I was getting in your way. I'm also sorry for fucking with that girl & you overheard it, if I'm genuinely being honest, I did it to try wipe my mind of you. I know what we did is a huge thing & it was wrong of me to have acted the way I did, if i'm being honest, this was the first time I did what we did so I just didn't really know how to act, but I'm genuinely sorry y/n. Chocolates?"

He blurts out, not taking his eyes off you as he feels his cheeks go hot, the nerves & also the way you're looking at him making him flustered. You both sit in silence for a minute, him waiting for a response & you thinking of a response.

"Gimme the box & light the candle for me, second drawer to your right n you will find a lighter. If you felt like this all week, You've still had seven days to come n tell me this but instead you've let me feel like shit for a week, this was the exact reason I was unsure to do it with you Hyunjin, in fear something like this would have happened & instead of just growing a pair & talking to me, you fuck someone else to just try forget?" You reply, your voice getting a bit shaky without meaning it, the feelings of it all hitting you again.

Hyunjin listens as he digs into his pocket & pulling out his own lighter & lighting it before putting it on the counter & he walks the few steps over to you, handing you the chocolate before standing right in front of you, leaning his hands on the counter on the outside of your legs, caging you in.

"Please y/n, don't think like that. I know I should have swallowed my pride n apologised earlier, I was just trying to convince myself I didn't give a fuck but I do, hence why I'm here. I honestly think you used those crystals & manifested this or something." he mumbles the last part, looking away from you, his ears going red after hearing his words out loud & your legs stop swinging as you pause at his words.

"What do you mean you actually give a fuck? What are you trying to say." you reply back, resisting the urge to reach out & stroke his hair. Hyunjin sighs & shakes his head. "Don't make me spit it out y/n, It's just gonna sound like a lie to you." You get an anxious feeling in your belly before taking his chin & guiding him to look back up at you. "Hyunjin, just say it, it's only me here anyway. Just say what you gotta say." you respond in a quiet but firm voice, honestly scared.

He doesn't have much option but to look at you as he lets himself melt into your hand lightly before taking a deep breath. "I.. care about you? I don't know, it feels weird but like... I genuinely felt like shit after how I treated you n i've tried to bury it but it just won't leave, I don't really know what it is about you n honestly it scares me." he says in a quiet, quick tone & your jaw drops.

You just freeze as you both just look at each other in complete silence not including the quiet crackling of the candle & your living room clock ticking. Hyunjin can't bare the awkwardness anymore as he gets shy for the first time in years, moving his arms to stand completely upright but you pull him in by the shirt to hug him, tears threatening to leave your eyes as his arms wrap around you in return.

"This better not be some sort of sick joke Hyunjin or i swear I'll kill you, you're gonna boost my ego to a fraction of what yours is." you half laugh as he nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling your sweet smell. "It's not, dead serious. You're just different n I don't know how to feel about it, stop casting spells to make me attached to you. I've been itching to ask to see you all week, I wish I wasn't being so stubborn." he muffles into your neck, moving his head side to side slightly, his nose tickling your neck, making you lean more into him, chuckling at his stupid joke.

"Stop with the silly magic jokes, you're ridiculous. I want to say you're not forgiven since you need to prove to me you're not talking out your ass but I do accept your indeed heart warming apology & I appreciate it just more than the flowers n chocolate." you say in a soft voice & you feel Hyunjin smile against your neck before he moves & kisses the tip of your nose, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"That's what I wanted to hear, I wouldn't be able to handle it if you had told me to fuck off, my first ever rejection coming from the first person I've ever bought a present for that isn't my mom." You chuckle at this before hopping off the counter, grabbing the box of chocolates that were staring at you.

"Rejection? You tryna say you like meee?" you tease, taking his hands before swaying them back & forth & he rolls his eyes, chuckling. "Was it not kinda obvious? I wanted to say it without directly saying it in case I embarrassed myself but... yeahhh I have a tiny crush, I think you made us soul tied or something." you just 'tut' at his remark but your face goes bright red at his confession, cheeks hurting from how much you're smiling.

"I'm touched. Got thee famous playboy hwang Hyunjin to like like me, not sure if it's a surprise but I like you too." You kiss his cheek before leading him to the couch as you sit on it, him flopping next to you. "Enough of the soppy talk for now or I'll get embarrassed, you can choose a movie while I get us a blanket." He just nods & you hand him the box of chocolates & he begins opening them as you scurry to your room to get your favourite fluffy blankets.

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You both end up watching a recommended Netflix romcom suggestion, both of you devouring your chocolates but you pay no mind to it.

Some point throughout, your legs end up swung over his as your head lays against his shoulder, him stroking your hair with one hand as the other hand caresses your thigh.

Every few minutes or so, you focus less on the movie & more on his touch as his hand slowly rises up your leg, then your thigh & his hand is now grazing against your inner thigh over your tight shorts, giving you goosebumps, which he doesn't miss.

This continues up until Hyunjin repositions himself, pushing your legs off him so he can lay down over your thighs, his view now sideways of the TV, not that he cares, not paying the slightest bit of attention anyway as you momentarily tense up beneath him.

You continue stroking his hair, sometimes digging your fingers into his scalp a bit to scratch it, making him let out a satisfied hum. You can't help but keep looking down at the beautiful man laying on you & you can't help but smile to yourself.

As if he can feel your eyes burning into his skull, he moves the blanket down your legs enough to expose your legs enough for him to begin planting little pecks on them, slightly tickilish but you don't miss the wetness now pooling under your shorts. "Stop teasing Hyune." you speak up, your voice quiet & he just chuckles.

"If you don't want me to tease, I won't complain if you lay back." he replies, not bothering to look up at you as his hand reaches to squeeze your thigh softly as he keeps giving your legs kisses, suckling at them slightly,

You think about what he says & you would be stupid to deny the chance, your pussy clenching around nothing. You lightly push his head up off you & he takes the hint, moving & you push the side of his arm, towards the edge of the couch & he looks at you slightly confused but does what he thinks you're hinting at, getting onto the floor right in front of you, looking up at you with his pretty eyes.

You give him a shy smile before you take it upon yourself to wriggle your shorts & underwear off, leaving your bottom half completely nude, biting your lip in anticipation.

"You really got this desperate since last time I saw you?" he teases & you put your hand in front of your cunt, covering it with how shy you've just started feeling but he is quick to pull it back off, looking at the small shimmer on your middle finger before licking it off in one go.

"Don't be shy, gorgeous. I've been just as desperate if not more, can I get a taste?" he says in a sweet voice, not looking away from you, stars in his eyes. "Please.. If you want to." you respond, hiding your face in your hands but he reaches up & swats your hands away yet again as his other hand begins to slowly drag through your folds, making your hips buck.

"Stop hiding, where's your confidence gone hmm? Do I make you that nervous? trust me, there's nothing I want more." he leans in & kisses right next to your lip before smirking at you & sinking back down onto the floor, blowing cold air onto your now soaking cunt, making your legs tense up & he tongues his cheek as he watches your face twitch.

He spreads your folds open, getting a better view of your hole, clenching around nothing before he licks a long, slow strip from your hole to the top of your clit, letting out a low groan in the process. "Taste better than anything y/n, I fucking swear." he says as he looks up at you for a split second. "eyes on me, if you look away I'll stop." he voices before digging in.

You do as he says & make eye contact with him as his mouth latches onto your cunt as he begins letting spit roll off his tongue, mixing with your juices just before slurping it back up, not afraid to make as much noise as the mixes of juices allow.

You weave your hand in his hair & play with his hair & scratch his scalp for him as he suctions his tongue onto your swollen button, both of you groaning at the same time.

"Hyune, so good" you whimper out, your breath shaky as your eyes struggle to stay open & you feel Hyunjin smile against you. He brings his fingers up to your clit before rubbing it in a steady rhythm as he lets go of before his tongue find its way into your opening before beginning to tongue fuck you & you throw your head back, your moans now louder than the TV still playing behind the both of you, your legs now closing around his head, not that he pays attention to that anyway, if anything he is enjoying it.

You begin to clench around his tongue which he remembers is your tell tail sign you're about to orgasm, your moans getting higher pitched & your grip on his hair getting tighter & he chooses to worm his tongue out of your hole before pinching your clit between his two fingers & dropping a glob of spit to it before giving it one more lick, smirking.

"I wanna try something I think you might like, turn over so you're facing your back to me, hunny." You huff at the beginning of a future orgasm beginning to appear suddenly bubbling away but you do as he says, slightly confused.

You get up on your knees & rest your elbows on the back of the couch, you now looking at the wall behind you. "Why am I fac-" you're cut off as Hyunjin spreads your cheeks & begins fondling them as he begins suckling on your pussy from behind, letting out a satisfied hum behind you as you begin kneading the couch until your fingers begin to ache, biting your lip to try hold back moans.

"G-gonna cum Hyunjin, keep g-going." you whimper, pushing yourself into his face, seeking even more from him if it's even possible & he gives you a quick slap on your ass as he removes himself from your cunt again, much to his own displeasure.

"Don't bite your lip y/nnie, I wanna hear you fully, Mkay?" he speaks from behind you as you yelp at the impact & he hums as he keeps kneading your ass, giving it a few kisses. "Your ass is to die for, you know that? Gonna taste it." Before you can even process what he says, your mind too full of lust to understand, he is letting a glob of spit fall past his lips & it landing right on your tightest hole.

You try jerk your hips away from him but he is quicker & pulls you back to him, keeping a tighter grip on your ass, keeping it spread as his tongue begins to graze over your pretty pucker, his eyes scrunching together as he smiles against you, tongue now drawing patterns on it as he lets go of one of your ass cheeks, going down to your leaking cunt again before entering two fingers, instantly finding the same G-spot that made you orgasm only a week or so ago.

Your hips buck at the new sensation & you let out a long mewl, letting your face fall onto the back of the couch as your knuckles turn white from how hard you're clenching on it.

Your pretty hole is clenching & pulsating on his tongue as he lets out a deep growl at your taste, so different compared to your cunt but still enjoyable, you're moans getting to an even higher pitch as his tongue enter inside you, swirling around as much as the tight ring will allow.

"Hyun- please l-let me cum, s-so- fuck!" you basically scream out, not even being able to find the strength to lift your head up to look at the man behind you as your pussy & ass clench around his fingers & tongue but right before you cum, Hyunjin pulls completely away, again & your legs shake from the painful pleasure of yet another stolen orgasm.

Hyunjin leans over so his clothed chest is touching your back & he tilts your head so he can see your pretty face & he sees your now tear soaked cheeks & your pretty, glossy eyes.

"Awww, pretty girl couldn't contain their tears, could you? I promise you can cum now, I don't have a condom on me though beautiful so do you just want my fingers hmm? or my tongue?" he questions as he strokes your now damp hair out of your face, pouting at you.

"J-just fuck me Hyune, j-just pull out." you whiimper back to him, your breath so unstable it's difficult to even push the words out. Hyunjin opens his mouth to re ask you, just to make sure he is hearing things right but you wiggle your naked ass against him & he bucks his hips before just nodding before kissing your shoulder & then shimmying his pants & underwear down, freeing his pretty cock.

He spits onto his cock, pumping it into his hand a few times, letting out a hushed groan before he aligns his tip with your pussy, rubbing himself against it a few times to coat his tip in your juices before prodding his tip against your hole, before pushing just the tip inside.

"I'm still gonna be gentle, it's only your second time, tell me if this position is uncomfortable." he speaks behind you & as you mumble out an 'okay' while your face now being mushed against the cushion again, he pushes his hips forward very slowly until he buries himself to the hilt, you both letting out a moan in unison.

He stills inside you, trying to not cum instantly from how hot your walls feel without the restriction of the condom he wore last time, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he waits for your signal to continue.

Your breath staggers as he pushes forward, the stretch being a bit painful but no way near as painful as last time & after a minute or so, you push yourself on his cock experimentally, making you both hiss.

"You- please move, mak-make me cum Hyune, p-please." you elongate the last word, turning your head to the side so he can actually hear you. He takes a deep breath & pulls out half way before pushing back in, the both of you letting out a whine as his balls slap against your clit, making it even more intense for you.

Hyunjin sets a steady rhythm, lightly using the tips of his finger nails to add sensation to your back, tickling it but also feeling nice as you know it will leave those pretty little red marks later on. Both of your moans & whines fill the small apartment, not even thinking about how your neighbours can one hundred percent hear you.

"Y/n yo-you're too tight, s-so warm." he breathes out, lifting his leg & standing it on the couch for a better angle as he keeps rutting into you, leaning over your back again to kiss your cheek, your moans going straight into his ears.

"To- so big hy-hyune, pleas-e lemme c-cum." you whimper, your eyes scrunching closed, the ends of Hyunjins hair tickling your face as he begins to nibble on your earlobe, your cunt clenching impossibly tight around his cock, almost suffocating it.

"c-cum with me baby, h-hold on for me." he groan back as he tilts his neck into an uncomfortable position just so he can kiss your lips. His tongue instantly enters your mouth & you suckle on it, tasting the remaining taste of your juices from what he hasn't already repeatedly swallowed, making you moan in content.

Hyunjin speeds up his pace slightly & your G-spot loves this, making your legs almost give out on the spot as your brain turns into mush. "I-in my s-stomach Hyun-deep." you babble out against his lips, barely even knowing your own name at this point.

As Hyunjin stands back upright after giving your shoulder a few pecks, his phone begins to ring. Your eyes spot his phone on the other end of the couch, where he was sitting earlier but he reaches over & declines it before shutting his phone completely off, throwing it to the side, his pace not slowing once.

You don't bother questioning it, instead focusing on the noises of your slick & his balls connecting together mixed with the sweat of the both of you, sloppy clapping noises of your skin connecting filling the room, your legs begin to give out as Hyunjin worms his fingers down to your clit yet again before rubbing it frantically.

"In your s-stomach hmm? You can cum for me angel, n-not gonna last, too w-wet n tight." he squabbles, breathing frantically & this i all you need to hear as your entire body tenses up as finally, your orgasm hits you like a brick wall & you let out a squeal & Hyunjin has to grip onto your hips as his life depend on it in order for you to not flop & slip off the couch.

Your noises & the way your pussy flutters around him is just too much for him to handle & as much as he doesn't want to, he pulls himself out of your wet, hot walls as his cum spurts down your ass & back, throwing his head back as his cock quite literally pulsates as his balls empty, a high pitched whimper leaving his lips, breathing staggered.

He comes back to his body quicker than you do & he helps reposition you so you're fully laying on the couch, trying to make sure his cum doesn't get onto any other surface.

He grabs his underwear & wipes the cum off your back in a comfortable silence, slightly twitching as he wipes it off. He leans over your back again before kissing your earlobe. "Did so well, so proud of you, still so pretty for me despite being sticky with sweat." you both weakly laugh as you turn onto your back before using the ounce of strength you have left to pull on his wrist.

"cuddle." is all you say as you pull on him until he lays on top of you, half his weight dangling off the arm of the couch as he lays his head on your chest, listening to your still racing heartbeat & he can't help but feel secure.

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You both sit like this for a while, talking to one another about what you both spoke about in a bit more detail & also just talk to each other about things you don't know about one another, things like family pets, favourite colours, favourite brands etc.

Hyunjin ends up powering his phone back on & you are both just scrolling through his for you page, when you remember his phone ringing. "Quick question hyune, who was it that called you? If it was important you coulda stopped to answer." you ask him, not lifting your eyes from the video playing on his phone screen, not really thinking too much of it.

"Don't stress it, it was just someone I'm not gonna be speaking to anymore." he replies in s tired voice, still scrolling. His reply slightly confusing you. "Who? I don't mean to be nosey or anything but now i'm curious." you respond back, your fingers in his hair now pausing.

Without saying anything, he switches apps, onto his call log & it's Lisas name at the top.. nineteen missed calls. He just sighs as he presses on the 'more' option before deleting her number & deleting the Imessage conversation without even bothering to read her spam of texts, yelling, crying & cussing him out before switching apps back onto tiktok without saying a word & you just blush, your hands cupping his cheeks from above, your thumbs just below his eyes.

"You're cute." you say as you squeeze them playfully & he just 'tut's but still, he melts himself into your touch.

I'm not completely sure if I want to leave this story as a two parter orrrrrr do a third n final part but to everyone wanting a happier ending here you all are!

Tags: @troublemaker02 @ismokeeweed @lmhcats @isagerada @tsunderelino

[coriihanniee]

RIDICULOUSLY YOURS ‧₊ ᵎᵎ ⋅ ˚✮

۶ৎ ALTERNATIVE : Woonhak's Crash Course on Loving You !!

۶ৎ PAIRING : class clown!woonhak x academic burnout!reader ۶ৎ GENRE(S) : fluff, comfort ۶ৎ WARNING(S) : academic stress, mentions of low self esteem ۶ৎ WORD COUNT : 4.9k words

۶ৎ A/N : wrote this in class bcs why can't the men in my class be like the ones I write in my fics? 😒

 Step 1 :

The fluorescent lights in Chemistry class are doing that annoying flicker thing again, and you're pretty sure the migraine building behind your eyes is less about the lights and more about the fact that you've been running on three hours of sleep and spite for the past week.

Your notebook is open to a page that's supposed to contain notes about molecular bonds, but instead it's just a series of increasingly illegible scribbles that look like your sanity slowly deteriorating in real time. You're staring at the equations with the same energy as someone watching paint dry, except paint drying would probably be more engaging at this point.

"You look like you need a personality reboot."

The voice comes from your right, and you don't even have to look to know it's Woonhak. Kim Woonhak, who somehow ended up as your seatmate in Chemistry, Biology, and Math this semester, a cruel joke from the universe, considering he's basically the human embodiment of a golden retriever while you're currently channelling the energy of a dying houseplant.

You turn to look at him, and he's got that concerned-but-trying-to-be-casual expression that people get when they're not sure if you're going to laugh or cry.

"Excuse me?" you deadpan.

"I'm just saying," he continues, completely unfazed by your tone, "you've been looking like you're planning the demise of that textbook for the past twenty minutes. It's giving very 'final boss' energy."

"Maybe I am."

"See, this is what I'm talking about." He leans back in his chair, studying you with those annoyingly perceptive eyes. "When's the last time you smiled? And I don't mean that polite customer service smile you do when teachers ask if you understand the material by the way."

You open your mouth to answer, then close it. Because honestly? You can't remember.

"That's what I thought," Woonhak says gently. "Don't worry, though. I'm gonna fix this."

"Fix what?"

"Your whole..." he waves his hand vaguely in your direction, "...situation."

"I don't have a situation."

"Everyone has a situation. Yours is just particularly tragic."

Before you can respond with something appropriately sarcastic, your teacher clears her throat at the front of the class, and Woonhak turns his attention back to the lesson with a satisfied little smile that makes you want to throw your eraser at his head.

You have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into.

Step 2 : 

The first sticky note appears on your desk the next morning, stuck to your water bottle in handwriting that's somehow both messy and oddly neat.

"Don't die today 💗"

You stare at it for a full thirty seconds, then look around the classroom. Woonhak is already at his desk, chin propped on his hand, watching you with barely contained glee.

"Seriously?" you mouth at him.

He just grins and gives you a thumbs up.

The second note shows up during lunch, somehow tucked into your locker despite the fact that you're pretty sure you didn't give him your combination.

"You're hotter than midterms"

This one makes you snort despite yourself, which is apparently exactly the reaction Woonhak was hoping for, because when you turn around, he's standing three lockers down with the most smug expression you've ever seen.

"How did you even—"

"I have my ways," he says mysteriously, then pulls a bag of your favorite chips from his backpack. "Want some?"

You freeze. You've never told anyone what your favorite chips are. Hell, you're not even sure you've eaten them at school before.

"How do you know these are my favourite?"

"Lucky guess?" he offers, but he's doing that thing where he's trying not to smile, which means he's absolutely lying.

"Woonhak."

"Fine, fine. I asked Sungho what you usually buy from the vending machine. He said you always get the same thing."

"You asked Sungho about my snacking habits?"

"I asked Sungho about your preferences. There's a difference."

You want to be annoyed, but the chips are already open and they smell heavenly, and you haven't eaten anything since your sad breakfast of coffee and a toast with jam.

"This is weird," you tell him, but you take the bag anyway.

"Weird how?"

"Weird like... why do you care?"

Woonhak is quiet for a moment, and you notice a slight shift in his expression. "Because you look like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and I don't think anyone's bothered enough to ask if you need help."

The chips suddenly taste like cardboard.

"I'm fine," you say automatically.

"Yeah," Woonhak says softly, "that's what I figured you'd say."

Step 3 :

"For When You Wanna Punch a Textbook" shows up in your Spotify notifications at 11:29pm on a Tuesday, right when you're in the middle of having a breakdown over calculus homework.

You almost don't click on it, the last thing you need is Woonhak's chaotic energy in musical form when you're already barely holding it together. However, your curiosity wins, and you tap the notification.

The first song is something you've never heard before, but it's got this driving beat that somehow perfectly matches the frustration you're feeling. The second is a song you forgot you loved. The third makes you stop writing entirely and just listen.

By the time you reach the end of the playlist, it's past midnight and your calculus homework is still unfinished, but something in your chest feels a little lighter.

You screenshot the playlist and send it to Woonhak with a simple "Thanks."

His response comes back immediately, despite the late hour : "Told you it was good 😌"

"How did you know?" you type back.

"Know what?”

"What music I'd like, we've never talked about music."

The typing indicator appears and disappears several times before his response finally comes through : "You hum sometimes when you're concentrating, figured out your vibe from there."

You stare at your phone screen, a warm and uncomfortable feeling settling in your stomach. You hum when you concentrate? You didn't even know you did that. But somehow Woonhak noticed, and not only noticed but cared enough to remember.

"That's creepy" you send back, because you don't know how else to respond.

"That's friendship, omg just like My Little Pony! 🦄🤩 " he replies, and then immediately after : "Anyways, get some sleep. you have bags under your eyes the size of my future."

"Your future is probably pretty small then"

"Ouch, and here I am trying to save your academic career."

Despite all the weight you’ve been carrying, you smile, for the first time in weeks.

"Goodnight woonhak"

"Goodnight!! Sweet dreams of not punching textbooks 💗"

Step 4 : 

"What's the square root of you plus me?" Woonhak asks on a Thursday morning, sliding into his seat next to you just as the bell rings.

"Shut up," you reply automatically, not looking up from your notes.

"Incorrect. The answer is destiny."

This time you do look up, fixing him with your most deadpan stare. "That doesn't even make mathematical sense."

"Love rarely does."

"Who said anything about love?"

"I did. Just now. Keep up."

You want to be annoyed, but with the way he’s looking at you, like he can see through all the walls you’ve built, every crack you've plastered over, makes it impossible to stay irritated.

"You're ridiculous," you tell him.

"Ridiculously charming?"

"Ridiculously loud."

"I'll take it." He pulls out his notebook, then glances at you sideways. "You know, for someone who claims to hate my company, you sure do smile a lot when I'm around."

"I do not—"

"You're smiling right now."

You immediately try to school your expression into something more neutral, but it's too late. Woonhak's grin is so wide it looks like it might split his face in half.

"I knew it," he says triumphantly. "You like me."

"I tolerate you."

"Same thing."

"It's really not."

"Agree to disagree." He leans back in his chair, looking incredibly pleased with himself. "So, what's the plan for lunch today? More sad vending machine food, or are you finally going to let me introduce you to the cafeteria's surprisingly decent pizza?"

"I don't eat cafeteria food."

"Why not?"

"Because it's..." you pause, trying to find the right words. "It's loud and crowded in there. Plus, everyone's always staring."

"Staring at what?"

"At... I don't know. Everything… everyone."

Woonhak's expression softens slightly. "What if I told you that most people are too busy worrying about their own stuff to pay attention to anyone else?"

"I'd say you're being optimistic."

"What if I told you that even if they were staring, they'd probably just be thinking about how cool your hair looks today?"

"I'd say you're being ridiculous."

"What if I told you that I'd sit with you and make stupid jokes until you forgot to be nervous?"

Your pen paused and hovered over the pages at his words, and there's a softness in his eyes that makes your chest feel tight. "I'd say... maybe that would be okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, but if you make any more math puns, I'm leaving."

"Deal, but I'm not promising anything about chemistry puns."

"Woonhak."

"Fine, fine. No science puns. You're really limiting my material here."

"Good."

Step 5 : 

The midterm grade stares back at you from your phone screen like a personal attack :

67%.

In Biology, which is supposed to be your good subject.

You've been staring at the email for ten minutes now, sitting in your car in the school parking lot, and you still can't quite process it. You studied for this test. You studied for weeks. You gave up sleep, meals, social interaction, what little you had to begin with, and somehow it still wasn't enough.

Your phone buzzes with a text from your mom: "How did your test go? Dad's making your favourite dinner tonight!"

The favourite dinner you won't be able to enjoy because you'll have to tell them about this grade. The disappointment in their voices when they realize their kid isn't as smart as they thought. The way they'll try to hide their concern while asking if you need a tutor, if you're struggling, if there's something wrong.

Your phone buzzes again. This time it's Woonhak: "Hey!! Saw you in the parking lot, you okay?”

You don't respond. You can't respond. You're too busy trying to figure out where you went wrong, or how everything went wrong so fast.

Another text: "Heading over"

You want to tell him not to, want to drive away before he reaches your car, but you can't seem to make your body move. You just sit there, staring at that stupid number on your screen, until there's a gentle tap on your passenger window.

Woonhak's face appears, upside down, as he bends to peer through the glass. His expression immediately shifts when he sees you.

You hesitantly unlock the door for him. 

"Hey," he says softly, sliding into the passenger seat. "What's wrong?"

You hold up your phone without a word.

Woonhak looks at the screen, then back at you. "Okay. That sucks. But it's not the end of the world."

"It feels like it."

"I know." He's quiet for a moment. "You want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Okay. You want to sit here and be miserable for a while?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. I'm good at that too."

And he… surprisingly is. He sits there, not trying to fix anything or make you feel better, just being present while you fall apart. It's more comforting than it should be.

"I studied so hard," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I know you did."

"I gave up everything. Sleep, food, time with my friends, not that I have many to begin with."

"I know."

"And it still wasn't enough." Your voice cracks on the last word, and you hate how pathetic you sound.

"Hey." Woonhak's voice is gentle. "Look at me."

You don't want to, but you force yourself to look into his eyes.

"One grade doesn't define you," he says. "I know it feels like it does right now, but it doesn't. You're smart, and you're dedicated, and you work harder than anyone I know. This is just one test."

"It's not just one test, though. It's everything. I'm tired all the time, I can't focus, I feel like I'm drowning and everyone else is just... swimming."

"Then maybe it's time to learn how to float."

"What?"

"You don't have to be swimming all the time. Sometimes you can just float. Let the current carry you for a while."

You stare at him. "That's surprisingly deep for someone who makes puns about molecular bonds."

"I contain multitudes."

Despite everything, you laugh. It's a small, broken sound, but it's enough to make Woonhak fondly smile back at the sound. 

"There she is," Woonhak says softly, and the way he's looking at you makes your chest ache in a completely different way in ways you can't explain. 

"I should go home," you say eventually. "Face the music."

"Want me to come with you?"

"What?"

"Not inside," he clarifies quickly. "Just... moral support. I can wait in the car, make sure you don't drive into a tree on the way home."

"I'm not going to drive into a tree."

"Humour me."

You consider it. The idea of going home alone, of sitting through dinner with your parents while trying to pretend everything's fine, feels overwhelming. But the idea of Woonhak being there, even just in the driveway, feels like something you could handle.

"Okay," you say finally. "But you're not allowed to make any jokes about my house."

"Deal. But if your parents invite me in for dinner, I'm not saying no."

"They won't."

"We'll see."

Step 6 : 

You don't show up to school the next day, or the day after that.

By the third day, Woonhak is starting to worry. Your desk sits empty in all three classes you share, and none of your friends, the few you have, seem to know where you are. He asks Sungho, who just shrugs and says you're probably sick. He asks Jaehyun, who says he thinks he saw your car in your driveway yesterday but isn't sure.

On the fourth day, Woonhak decides he's had enough.

He's never been to your house before, but he's got your address from when you exchanged contact info for a group project last month. It's a fifteen minute walk from school, through a neighbourhood that's nicer than his but not fancy.

Your house is blue with white trim, and there's a car in the driveway that he assumes is yours. The curtains are drawn, but he can see light coming from what he thinks might be your bedroom window.

He stands on your front porch for a full minute, trying to figure out what to say. 

Hey, I know we're not that close but I was worried about you? I brought snacks and emotional support? I miss making fun of your math skills?

In the end, he just knocks.

The door opens after a long moment, and you're standing there in pajamas that look like you've been wearing them for days, hair messy, eyes red-rimmed.

"Woonhak?" Your voice is hoarse, like you haven't used it in a while.

"Hey," he says softly. "Can I come in?"

You stare at him for a moment, then step aside.

Your house is quiet, so quiet that he could hear the hum of the refrigerator, the tick of a clock somewhere, but no voices, no TV, no signs of life.

"Where are your parents?" he asks.

"Work. They think I have the flu."

"Do you?"

"No."

You lead him to your room, which is somehow exactly what he expected and nothing like he imagined at the same time. It's neat but lived-in, with fairy lights strung around the ceiling and books stacked everywhere. Your desk is covered in papers and highlighters, evidence of study sessions that went nowhere.

"I brought supplies," Woonhak says, holding up a bag he's been carrying. "Snacks, tissues, that face mask thing you mentioned liking once, and—" He pulls out a small stuffed animal, a ridiculous-looking cat with a grumpy expression. "Emotional support."

You stare at the cat, then at him, then back at the cat.

"You brought me a stuffed animal?"

"His name is Professor Dubu. He's here to judge your life choices in a supportive way."

"That's..." You take the cat, holding it against your chest. "That's really weird."

"Good weird or bad weird?"

"I don't know yet."

Woonhak sits on the edge of your bed, careful to maintain some distance. "You want to talk about what's going on?"

"Not really."

"Okay. You want me to talk about random stuff until you get annoyed and tell me to leave?"

"Maybe."

"Cool. Did you know that octopuses have three hearts? And that they're technically aliens because their DNA is so different from everything else on Earth? Also, I'm pretty sure Jaehyun has been trying to ask out the girl from our History class for three weeks now, but every time he sees her, he just starts talking about the French Revolution instead."

Despite yourself, you smile a little. "That sounds like Jaehyun."

"Right? It's painful to watch. Anyways, Taesan thinks we should just lock them in a closet together until one of them breaks, but I'm pretty sure that's illegal."

"Probably."

"Definitely." He pauses. "You know, everyone's been asking about you. Teachers, classmates, even some people I didn't know you knew."

"Really?"

"Really. Turns out you're more popular than you think."

You're quiet for a moment, holding Professor Dubu and staring at your hands. "I don't feel popular. I feel... invisible."

"You're not invisible to me."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning you're not sure either of you is ready to examine.

"I know," you say finally. "And I don't understand why."

"Why what?"

"Why you..." You gesture vaguely between the two of you. "Why you care. Why you notice me. Why you're here."

Woonhak is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is softer than you've ever heard it.

"You know how some people are like... background music? Like, they're nice, and they're fine, but they don't really stick with you?"

You nod.

"You're not background music. You're like... the song that gets stuck in your head. The one you find yourself humming without realizing it. The one that you play on repeat and never get bored or tired of."

Your chest feels tight again, but in a different way than before.

"I don't know what to do with that," you admit.

"You don't have to do anything with it. Just... don't disappear, okay? Don't make yourself invisible just because things get hard."

"What if I can't help it?"

"Then I'll keep showing up until you remember how to be seen."

You stopped cold at his confession and stare directly at him. For once, you see past the carefully maintained cheerfulness you've known him for. Behind the exterior, you see someone who's genuinely worried about you, someone who cares enough to skip school and show up at your door with snacks and… emotional support cat plushies.

"Woonhak?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For... caring. For seeing me when I can't see myself."

"You don't have to thank me for that."

"I know, but I want to."

He smiles, different from his usual grins. This time, it’s smaller, softer, sincere. 

"Come back tomorrow?" he asks.

"I'll try."

"That's all I'm asking for."

Step 7 : 

You do come back the next day, although you're not sure why. Maybe it's because of what Woonhak said, or maybe it's because Professor Dubu spent the night judging you from your nightstand, or maybe it's just because staying home feels more exhausting than facing the world.

Woonhak lights up when he sees you walk into Chemistry, and the genuine relief on his face makes your heart flutter.

"You came back," he says as you slide into your seat.

"I said I'd try."

"Yeah, but you actually did it."

"Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Too late. I'm already planning the celebration."

You roll your eyes, but you're smiling a little. "Please don't."

"Fine, fine. But I'm at least buying you lunch."

"You don't need to—"

"I want to."

You catch the tone in his voice that makes you look at him more carefully. He's doing that thing again where he's trying not to smile, but this time, his composure seems… nervous?

"Okay," you say, because you don't know what else to say.

"Okay?"

"Okay, you can buy me lunch."

"Cool. Great. Perfect." He's definitely nervous now, fidgeting with his pen and avoiding eye contact.

"Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Totally fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

"Because you're acting weird."

"I'm not acting weird. This is how I always act."

"No, this is how you act when you're planning something."

"I'm not planning anything."

"Woonhak."

"Okay, fine. Maybe I'm planning something. But it's not a big something. It's like... a medium something."

"What kind of medium something?"

"The kind you'll find out about at lunch."

You spend the rest of Chemistry trying to figure out what he's up to, but he's remarkably good at deflecting your questions. By the time lunch rolls around, you're more curious than worried.

He leads you to a spot you've never been before, a small courtyard behind the library that's somehow managed to stay hidden from most of the student body. There's a picnic table under a tree, and he's already spread out what looks like an entire convenience store's worth of snacks.

"This is your medium something?" you ask.

"Part of it." He's definitely nervous now, running his hands through his hair and avoiding eye contact. "The other part is... um..."

"Woonhak, you're scaring me."

"I don't want to scare you. That's literally the opposite of what I want."

"Then just tell me what's going on."

He takes a deep breath, then looks at you directly for the first time all day. "I like you."

"I know. We're friends."

"No, I mean... I like you like you."

The words hang in the air between you, and you feel like you've been hit by a truck. Not in a bad way, exactly, but in a way that makes everything suddenly make sense and no sense at all.

"Oh," you say.

"Oh?"

"I... oh."

"That's not exactly the response I was hoping for."

You stare at him, trying to process what he just said. "You like me?"

"Yeah."

"Like... romantically?"

"Yeah."

"Since when?"

"Since..." He thinks for a moment. "Since you fell asleep in Biology and started drooling on your notes. You looked so peaceful, and I realized I wanted to be the person who made sure you got enough sleep so you wouldn't have to sleep in class."

"That's... specific."

"I'm a specific person."

"You are." You're quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how you feel about this revelation. "Why are you telling me now?"

"Because you disappeared for four days and I realized that the thought of you not being in my life anymore was actually terrifying."

"I wasn't going to disappear forever."

"But you could have. And I didn't want you to disappear without knowing that someone thinks you're amazing."

You feel heat rise in your cheeks. "I'm not amazing."

"You are, though. You're smart, funny and you care about things more deeply than anyone I know. You hum when you concentrate and you get this little crease between your eyebrows when you're thinking hard about something. You remember people's birthdays and you always have extra pens and you make these little jokes that are so dry I'm never sure if you're being serious or not."

"Those aren't amazing things. Those are just... things."

"They're amazing to me."

He's looking at you in the way that makes your chest feel tight again, but it's not uncomfortable this time. It's like something warm and bright is expanding inside you, filling spaces you didn't know were empty.

"I don't know what to say," you admit.

"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know."

"But what if I want to say something?"

"I'm all ears."

You take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts. "I think... I think I like you too. I'm just scared…"

"Scared of what?"

"Scared that I'm not good at this, that I'll mess it up, that you'll figure out I'm not as amazing as you think I am."

"What if I told you I'm scared too?"

"You? Scared of what?"

"Scared that you'll realize you can do better than the class clown who makes too many puns and cares too much about whether you're eating enough."

"You don't make too many puns."

"I absolutely make too many puns."

"Okay, yeah, you do. But I kind of like them."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. They're... endearing."

"Endearing enough to maybe give this a shot?"

You look at him, sitting there surrounded by an absurd amount of snacks, looking nervous, hopeful and completely sincere, and you realize that maybe you've been approaching this whole thing wrong. Perhaps instead of trying to figure out if you're good enough or ready enough or brave enough, you should just... try.

"Yeah," you say. "I think I'd like that."

The smile that spreads across Woonhak's face is brighter than the sun.

Step 8 : 

Few weeks later, you're standing in the hallway after school, shoving books into your locker, when Woonhak appears beside you like he always does.

"How was your day?" he asks, leaning against the lockers.

"Better," you say. "I got my Biology test back."

"And?"

"B+."

"That's amazing!" He looks genuinely proud, and a familiar warmth settles in your chest.

"It's not amazing, but it's better."

"It's progress. Progress is amazing."

You roll your eyes, but you're smiling. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously proud of you."

"You can't just add 'ridiculously' to everything I say."

"Ridiculously yes I can."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"Ridiculously doesn't have to."

You slam your locker shut and turn to face him fully. "You're the worst."

"Ridiculously the worst."

"I'm going to hit you."

"Ridiculously hit me."

"Woonhak."

"Ridiculously Woonhak."

Instead of hitting him, you do something that surprises both of you, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder.

He freezes for a moment, then his arms come up around you, holding you close.

"What's this for?" he asks softly.

"For being ridiculous," you say into his shoulder. "For being annoying. For not giving up on me when I gave up on myself."

"You don't have to thank me for that."

"I know, but I want to."

You pull back slightly to look at him. He's got that soft expression again, the same one that makes your chest feel tight in the best way.

"I'm really glad you decided to fix my personality," you tell him.

"I didn't fix anything. I just helped you remember who you already were."

"Same thing."

"Ridiculously not the same thing."

You laugh, and Woonhak's expression shifts.

"There she is," he says quietly.

"There who is?"

"The girl I fell for. The one who was always hidden underneath all that nonchalant exterior, just buried under all the stress and exhaustion."

Before you can respond, someone shouts from down the hallway.

 "FINALLY!"

You both turn to see Jaehyun and Taesan standing by the water fountain, grinning like idiots.

"Seriously?" Jaehyun calls out. "We've been waiting for this for months."

"Pay up," Taesan says, holding out his hand.

Jaehyun grumbles but pulls out his wallet. "I thought it would take at least another week."

"You bet on us?" you ask, incredulous.

"Of course we bet on you," Taesan says. "It was painful watching you two dance around each other."

"We weren't dancing around each other," Woonhak protests.

"You made her a playlist," Jaehyun points out.

"So?"

"You learned her favorite snacks."

"That's just being observant."

"You skipped school to check on her."

"That's just being a good friend."

"You bought her a stuffed animal."

Woonhak opens his mouth to argue, then closes it. "Okay, that one might have been a little obvious."

"A little?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine. Very obvious. Ridiculously obvious."

"There you go again with the ridiculously."

"It's my thing now."

"It's ridiculous."

"Ridiculously ridiculous."

Jaehyun and Taesan are still standing there, watching this exchange with matching grins.

"You two are disgusting," Taesan says, but he sounds fond.

"Ridiculously disgusting," Woonhak agrees cheerfully.

You look around at your friends, somehow, somewhere along the way, that's what they became. 

You lay your eyes on Woonhak, who's still got his arms around you and is looking at you like he couldn't believe someone like you could ever exist in his life.

"You know what?" you say.

"What?"

"I think I'm okay with ridiculous."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. As long as it's your ridiculous."

The smile that spreads across Woonhak's face is ridiculously bright, and before you could even process it, he kisses you right there in the hallway, and your chest feels like it would explode with happiness that you forgot you were capable of feeling.

From somewhere behind you, you hear Jaehyun mutter, "I should have bet on the kiss too."

You ignore it, who cares? 

You're too busy being ridiculously, impossibly, completely happy in love. 

Ridiculously Woonhak’s.

@coriihanniee 💌

˖➴ reblogs are appreciated! ty for reading! <3

taglist: @lvlyhiyyih @supi-wupi @tinyelfperson @8makes1atom @s0shroe @imhereonlytoreadxoxo @mydeepestsecrects @brownetry @pumpkg @heeheesang @jungwonbropls @prodkwh @reibelhearts @beomev

[hsangel64]

can you write an Ellie x reader where Joel finds out they’re dating please 🩵

had a feeling

pairings: jackson!ellie williams x fem!reader

synopsis: a small timeline of joel slowly finding out you and ellie have been together this whole time

warnings: slight angst, use of y/n, mild cussing, mostly fluff!

a/n: i hope i did this justice! i had so much fun writing this!

joel was a little oblivious when it came to ellie’s relationships, it wasn’t that he wasn’t aware who she hung out with, he just didn’t care to notice the times she snuck you in her garage or snuck out at night to go and see you. he never noticed until you became a bigger figure in her life, you were basically joined at the hip. joel watched from afar but didn’t ever think much of it, he’s met you and talked to you before, seems like a really good friendship.

you and ellie were good friends, dina had introduced you two but you only would really hang out with everyone else. that was until you both got drunk and made out, like a lot. after that you both decided it might be fun to just fool around, but little did ellie know is that you were basically in love with her. it had been countless nights of you pinning over her and the amount of times you would go to dina and just cry to her about it. you eventually made ellie realize a few things….with the help of dina. you and ellie had a long talk and she ended up asking you to be her girlfriend. she didn’t think she had to tell joel, she thought he could just find out on his own. its not like you guys were very secretive, he just didn’t pay attention sometimes.

the first time joel sensed something between you two was when ellie switched her patrols to be with you, basically begged tommy to switch with her every week. he didn’t think to ask her because he didn’t want to overstep but he did ask tommy.

“hey tommy.” he caught him in the stables.

“hey old timer whatcha need?”

“i’ve got a quick question for ya.”

“shoot.”

“is there a reason ellie’s been beggin’ for you to switch patrols with y/n?” tommy’s eyebrow quirked up in confusion and realized why he might’ve been asking.

“ellie just had told me that they’ve been talking more about that comic and wanted to get more time to hang out…why?”

“oh its nothing just been curious.” tommy nodded and said his goodbyes making his way out to get ready for his patrol, shaking his head at joel’s question.

after the conversation they had, joel kept his eye on the both of you, he didn’t want to pry but he couldn’t help but be curious. he noticed the touches and glances out in public, he noticed the she would pull you in for hugs.

a different time he thought it was a little suspicious was when ellie had went around trying to find someone to trade with to get some flowers. he was out one day helping people around town and he had seen ellie speaking to someone about flowers. she hadn’t noticed him so he stood close by and kept an ear open.

“hey do you have any idea where nancy is with her flower stand…is she not out today?”

“nope not today but you can probably find her at the greenhouses, why do you need flowers? you finally got a girl?” ellie laughed at the other girl and thanked her running past him and making her way to the greenhouses. he didnt want to be weird and follow but he remembered this, he noticed it all but like any time before he didn’t pry, he didn’t ask and he left it alone. that is until the day he accidentally walked in on you two…

he had made a big feast of food and was bringing ellie some of the leftovers for her to have. it was about 8pm at night so everyone should’ve been home, ellie usually has her door unlocked but he always knocks. he made his way over shivering from the cold wind, rubbing his hand on his arm. he sighed out and brought his hand up to knock, he heard loud music and made sure to make a mental note to tell her to turn it down since it was late. he knocked once, and then again, and then again but no answer. he leaned his head towards the door to see if he could hear anything but he could only hear the music. he figured she must’ve fallen asleep so he slowly opened the door to peak in, he was confused because she wasn’t in her bed so he opened the door more and saw the sight in front of him. it took him a bit to comprehend what was happening but once he did ellie noticed him and yelled at him to go away. you were laid on the couch and ellie was on top of you, you both had no clothes on and joel immediately covered his eyes.

“joel!”

“im sorry im sorry-“ he didn’t move from the doorway so ellie yelled at him more.

“what the fuck leave!” he frantically left the container on her nightstand by the door and quickly made his way back out. running back into his home and just trying to rub away the image of you and ellie. he groaned loudly and grumbled out ‘fuckin’ kids.’ making his way into his bedroom and getting right to bed.

the next couple of days ellie purposefully ignored joel and tried any chance to not be caught alone with him. after he left her face was beet red and was so embarrassed knowing that he had just caught them. she did not want him talking to her about it, it would be far too much for her to take. it would be even worse because she hadn’t talked to him about her sexuality, she figured he had some idea but she was worried he wouldn’t have accepted her for who she was if she confirmed that she in fact was gay. ellie turned to you during the rest of the week trying to figure out how to approach him, considering she had a dinner planned with him….with just him.

“els you just have to tell him, i know he loves you and would support you. plus you said that he probably knows and i think by now he would’ve stopped making an effort to talk to you.” ellie knew you were right, she knew, she just didn’t want to admit it. she was having a crisis and could only find you as an outlet.

———————————————————————————

the day had finally come and ellie was no where near ready to talk to him. she felt sick and paced her room the whole day just thinking of a way to tell him. you were busy that day helping with the little farmers market that was held every sunday so it made ellie’s anxiety even worse not having you there to calm her. when the time came she got up from her couch, grabbed her coat and the small tupperware of cookies you helped her make to ease the blow a little and shortly walked to the back of joel’s house knocking on the door and taking a the biggest deep breath. joel answered fairly quickly and welcomed her in.

“dinners almost ready if you want to just quickly set the table.” ellie nodded and grabbed the plates and silverware, they stood in a comfortable silence but they both felt that smallest bit of tension. the topic of conversation lingering in the air, feeling like ellie was going to suffocate. as dinner finished and they sat down, plating their plates and sitting for a second in silence before they both started to eat.

“this is delicious joel thanks..” he nodded at the girl in front of him in agreement.

“yeah i tried this new recipe for stew that maria gave me.”

“how’d you get her to give you that?”

“not too happy at what she made me do…that stays between me and maria.” he chuckled.

“oh come on.” and just like every sunday their conversation flowed like nothing was wrong, ellie nerves calmed and she was just there.

the topic still lingered between pauses of speaking but no one brought it up. they both thought it wasn’t the right moment to mention it, they were laughing and enjoying each others presence. as they finished dinner ellie helped joel bring the dishes to the sink and offered to wash them.

“eh don’t worry about it kiddo, ill do it tomorrow been on my feet all day.” she nodded at him and he proposed an idea. “hey let me make myself some coffee and lets sit on the porch for a bit, go on and set up that heater for us its a lil chilly.” she knew this was his way of coming up with a time to have this talk, so she took yet another deep breath and made her way out, grabbing a blanket on the way out and turning the heater on. she sat on one of the two chairs he had outside, he specifically made the other one just for her to sit with him on sunday nights especially during the summer.

ellie wasn’t sitting for long until she heard the door next to her open and close, joel placed his mug on the table and groaned as he took his seat. they enjoyed the sound of jackson on a sunday night, the soft music playing from the tipsy bison and the soft laughter of children playing outside by the house. they both had the same idea of speaking first.

“i have a- sorry go ahead- no you- sorry-“ they went back and forth both giving up and laughing at each other, ellie then mimicked her mouth being shut and gave him the stage to talk.

“so the other night…im sorry for walkin’ in like that i just figured you’d fallen asleep-“

“i promise its okay, it was a simple mistake.”

“good, thought you were mad at me.” ellie’s face dropped slightly and shook her head at him.

“no no i promise it was just a little awkward after..” they both nodded at each other and joel took another second before responding back.

“so you and y/n…are you guys….a thing?” it was now or never.

“um uh yeah we are…she’s my girlfriend.” joel nodded again and tried to find the words to respond back but it seemed too long for ellie.

“its okay if you don’t support it…i mean me being gay and shit, i just…there never was a right time to tell you.” shaking his head at her and waving his hand up.

“well that’s certainly not the case…i will support you no matter what you like, and if its girls ill be here to support you. plus i like that girl, shes very lucky to have you.” ellie’s eyes filled up with tears, quickly wiping them and nodding. they made eye contact with each other and joel let out a small ‘oh kiddo.’ he got up from his seat and pulled her up into a hug, kissing her forehead. they stayed there for awhile until ellie pulled back and looked at him.

“i don’t tell you a lot but i really do appreciate you joel, i’ve never felt this accepted with anyone and i’m glad its you that is there supporting me.” pulling her back in for a hug he chuckled slightly. she mumbled into his chest, ‘what..’

“i finally made you show some emotion…” she pushed him away and they both laughed at each other.

“oh fuck off!”

“hey why dont you invite her over next sunday for our dinner.”

“but you’ve met her before.”

“i know, but it’ll be the first full family dinner we can have.”

“id like that.”

“me too.” they went back to their playful selves and basked in the last bit of sunset they had left, sitting on the porch while ellie told him about the new comics she found. he happily sat and listened, the first time in a while where he felt good about life.

———————————————————————————

a/n: this went in a completely different direction than i had thought but i actually really enjoyed it and i think i did good! i hope you enjoy!!

[lorimnnn]

bruce wayne x femdom!reader | minors dni | slight corruption dynamic | dom x sub dynamic | unedited

thinking of bruce wayne who goes on a date with another random sugar baby to get his usual, non-committal, romantic fix.

fully prepared to go by the script, he dons his playboy persona and prepares to blow his wallet spoiling you as the expected rich, older man looking for one thing and one thing alone. he's dominant. slightly arrogant. unquestionably in charge. slightly cold. everything goes to plan... mostly. he can't help but feel there is something off about your saccharine smile and soft eyes, but he puts it down to your gold digging personality. its nothing he hasn't seen before. it just means your time together will probably be cut short.

oh, how wrong he is. how wrong he is, he realises, when he finally gets you alone and he finds himself being shoved down on to the bed. in the few seconds he takes to recover, you have already crawled over him, your knee grinding into his cock, the nail job he paid for sinking into his cheeks as you grab him by the jaw. that look in your eyes has become bottomless. the smile turning up the corners of your lips has gone from cheeky to wolfish, and the whole thing feels blinding, a beam of smug mirth that makes him feel so erotically pathetic, he becomes terrified he might cum in his pants at any moment. for the first time in bruce wayne's life, he feels like prey instead of predator. he fears you will eat him alive the same way he had intended to do to you.

and worse?

after a night of treating him like a dog, fucking him stupid and milking him dry, he finds that he likes it. too much. and what he thought would be a contractual fling is about to become a lot more.

bruce wayne who nearly pounds down your door begging for you. he falls to his knees and holds you by the waist like a preacher and his god.

bruce wayne who sheds his stress when he's with you. batman, the paparazzi, everything--- none of it matters when you are the one in control, unknowingly shouldering it for him.

bruce wayne who can never go back. you are everything he was looking for before he knew there was a purpose; you are his purpose. maybe you hadn't expected him to want to see you after your night spent together. it was easy to expect him to be repulsed by your face after humiliating him and everything he stood for like that in the span of one night, but you were wrong. now you have to deal with a billionaire who would do anything for you... and a vigilante who relied on being disrespected in his free time to maintain respect in his city of crime.

bruce wayne, charismatic bachelor and epitome of the "top dog" in a world of obscene riches and devastating poverty, a crumbling society and garden of violence... who will bark if his woman asks him to.

basically, bruce wayne who finds his entire nervous system jump started because he meets a freaky woman into bullying rich, arrogant men... and is horrified to realise that he really, really likes it.

---

guys I'm working on the Jason fic I swear 😭 it's fully plotted and I have a whole whiteboard for it rn. exam season just ended and in the midst of moving as well--- I'm doing my best to put out what I can!!! thank you for showing my work so much love these past few weeks with the reblogs and likes. I've also been LOVING your replies and messages. please spam me darling 🥹 its literally my fave thing

anyway I came up with this idea because I've been reading "in the doghouse" (korean 18+ manhwa) and the love interest, the imperial crown prince, is a d1 freak who loves being the main characters subby little puppy despite having to uphold the expectations of being such a dominant and coveted bachelor in society. every time he gets dominated, he doesn't have to think because someone is doing the thinking for him. and so I was like, thats sort of like bruce. bruce has the whole world at his feet and yet it feels more like its on his shoulders. wouldn't he love to have the control torn from his hands? so... yeah LOLOL

[g1rld1ary]

lonely dancers - remus lupin x fem!reader

wc: 2374 summary: you and remus, both miserable at a party and in your love lives, find solace in each other cw: toxic!cheating bf!sirius, cheating!reader, drinking, kissing, grinding, dirty talk me: got this idea in the car home from uni and furiously wrote it. inspired by lonely dancers by conan gray! obvs i do not condone cheating or similar behaviour but this idea just would not leave my head remus is so hot

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Someone’s stereo was blasting music through the first floor of the house party you were stuck in. You’d come with your boyfriend, Sirius, but you hadn’t seen him in at least an hour.

So you were shoved in the corner, stranded at a party where you hardly knew anyone, and were friends with even less, with no way to get home without Sirius. It wasn’t so bad, whoever was choosing the music had good taste, and there was an abundance of free booze, but you couldn’t help your thoughts drifting back to your nice warm bed and how much you’d like to be there.

A few metres away, leaning casually against the wall, was Remus Lupin. He had a glass bottle of beer in his hand, occasionally swishing it around as if it would make it disappear any faster. You’d thought he’d looked rather down all night, but you rarely got to really speak to him.

Even though you hung around Sirius’ friends all the time, even having just had pres with them before this party, you never really got to talk to them. Sirius was very possessive of you, something you didn’t particularly mind, but it meant that you never got past basic small talk with his friends. Nevertheless, all that meant that you didn’t know if Remus was sad, why that could be, or if maybe he just had a terrible resting bitch face.

You pushed yourself off the wall, weaving slowly through the crowd to make your way over to him. Might as well be miserable with Remus instead of alone.

“Hi,” You said awkwardly, trying to determine an appropriate distance to stand from him.

“Oh, hey,” Remus replied, hardly looking up from where his eyes were distractedly trained on the ground.

“I know we’re not really close or anything, but is everything alright? You look kind of sad. No offence.”

“It’s alright, I’m sure I do look pretty fucking miserable,” Remus laughed pathetically, “I got broken up with this morning.” Your mouth dropped open, instantly regretting probing him for details.

“Shit, I am so sorry Remus! That’s awful.” You stepped marginally closer, resting a hand gently on his bicep. He looked up at you properly for the first time, eyes softening as they locked with yours.

“It’s okay,” He said, shaking his head slightly, “Nothing you can do about it.”

“Still, if you wanna talk about it…” Remus looked at you, seemingly seeing you in a new light. To be fair, it was probably the longest conversation you’d had alone, and the only one that had gone past basic niceties.

“Fancy a smoke?” You nodded, grasping his hand so he could lead you through the crowded house, out to the back porch where a few other stragglers were hanging around smoking.

You and Remus claimed your spot against the porch railing, a few centimetres between you. Remus supplied the darts while you fished a lighter out of your purse, averting your eyes with an embarrassed smile as Remus raised an eyebrow at the ridiculous hot pink apparatus.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You asked carefully, studying Remus’ face for any indication that he wanted you to move off of it.

“Not much to say,” Remus sighed, gazing out into the dark garden. “He said he couldn’t stand me anymore, fell out of love with me.”

“Christ,” You muttered, “What a dick. I hope this isn’t weird, coz, well, I barely know you, but he doesn’t deserve you. He was always kinda mean to me when we went out as a group — you can do so much better than him.”

“Thanks,” He huffed a laugh, looking over at you again. You looked back, sharing a small smile. He looked so pretty, only partially lit by the warm glow from the kitchen, catching on the amber of his eyes. “And what about you? Where’s your boyfriend?” It was your turn to look away, taking a long drag of the cigarette.

“Who knows? I saw him about an hour ago with some pretty petite blonde heading up the stairs, so I’d say he’s onto the next conquest right now — oh look, there he is now.” You turned just in time to see Sirius enter the kitchen, followed by a frankly very attractive young man.

You and Remus watched as the guy laughed at something Sirius had said, then pushed him up against a set of cabinets to kiss him hard. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Sirius didn’t just reciprocate it, but pressed his hips up against him with vigour, threading his fingers through the guy’s hair.

You turned back around quickly, not wanting to watch it any more than you had to. Remus followed suit, watching you white knuckle the porch rail. He silently, hesitantly, slid his fingers over to interlock your pinkies — a silent display of support.

“Guess we’re both having a shitty night alone then,” He said, exhaling a puff of silver smoke.

“Yeah,” You replied, desperately willing yourself not to cry.

“Why do you put up with this? You don’t deserve it.”

“He’s trying!” You protested, maybe more for yourself than Remus, “You know Sirius. He’s never been in a proper relationship before; he’s not used to not doing whatever he wants. And it’s only when he’s drunk! But I like him, Remus, and I know he does like me too, so I can deal with it.”

“That’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard, and I’m friends with Sirius,” Remus gave a hollow laugh, and you forced out a weak smile. “You know, most people have the decency to at least not cheat on their partners at a party where they came together.”

You nodded, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying, but a stray tear rolled down your cheek anyway.

“Hey, hey,” Remus cooed, turning you towards him and running a gentle hand under your cheek to wipe it away, “Don’t cry. Come on, we’ll go take some shots and then have a great fucking dance. Okay?” You nodded through a hiccup, hurriedly shaking away the rest of your tears as you looped your arm through Remus’ and let him drag you back inside.

Walking back through the door, the music hit you like a wall, More Than a Feeling by Boston blasting around you as you weaved through conversations and dancers. You made a beeline towards the table of booze, watching with your arms crossed around your middle as Remus poured you three shots at once.

“I’m going to drop dead,” You snorted.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we’ll just get you loosened up, having fun and not thinking about your dickhead boyfriend.” You giggled, taking the first shot with a grimace.

“You don’t have to shit talk him, Remus. I know he’s your best friend.” You took the second shot, your chest heating up as the liquid made its way through your system.

“Look, I love Sirius. I really do. But he’s being a really fuckin’ shit boyfriend to you. And I’m not gonna lie just to convince you that that’s normal.”

“You’re the only one.” You took the final shot, bouncing on your heels to help it go down better. “I know they just love him, but even Lily and James keep telling me to give him another chance. I love him, but I don’t know how much more I can take before my heart starts to break.”

Remus took your hand, interlocking your fingers and leading you out to where the bulk of the party was dancing and chatting, spinning you around to get you in the mood. Despite your sour mood, you started to smile, getting into it as Remus pulled out dorky dad moves, clearly to make you laugh. It was working, though, and thoughts of Sirius started to fade in favour of being present with Remus.

It felt like you were the only two in the room, pulling out the lamest disco moves you could imagine until neither of you were thinking about shitty partners or exes, stuck in the bubble around the two of you.

You were in blissful peace until your eye caught on Sirius on the other side of the room, grinding against the same guy as before, his hands running up and down the boy’s body in a way that was not platonic. You really tried to ignore it and focus on the fun you were having with Remus until his face dropped, too. Morbidly curious, you followed his eyeline, zeroing in on his recent ex walking in with a pretty brunette girl on his arm.

“D’you wanna go get some space?” He leant down so his mouth brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You nodded emphatically, Remus pushing you towards the stairs.

“Fuck, the bedrooms are all taken,” You mumbled, straining to think of somewhere you could go for some privacy.

“In here.” Remus pulled you into the tiny bathroom, locking the door behind the two of you. Safely alone, he cursed loudly, pounding a fist against the wall to blow off some steam. When you looked back at him, Remus was crying, sliding down the door to collapse on the floor. Seeing his utter defeat, you began to cry softly too, propping yourself up against the wall perpendicular to him.

You put your hand on his bent knees, rubbing it softly to comfort him.

“Sorry,” He said once the fit had died down, “That was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, Remus. You got dumped today, it’s shit.”

“Didn’t even wanna come to this fucking party, James made me to stop me from being depressed,” He mumbled, surely more to himself than you.

“I’m glad you came,” You said earnestly, looking at him in the dim light of the room, noticing the way his hair turned golden from the lamplight. “You’ve been so nice to me tonight, looking after me when you didn’t have to.”

“I’m glad I came too, if only for you,” He relented after a moment. “Why haven’t we talked more after all this time you’ve been coming around to our things?”

“Sirius,” You answered, “He doesn’t like me talking to you guys that much, I don’t know why.”

“He knows you’re too fucking good for him, doesn’t want us to start telling you that.” You laughed airily, shaking your head as if to wave him off, but Remus sat up straighter, more serious than you expected, “I’m fuckin’ serious. You’re a really nice girl, love.”

“You think so?” Your voice lifted at the end, your eyes hopeful and bright despite the low light.

“I’ll just say if you were my girl, I wouldn’t fucking look at another soul as long as I was coming home to you.”

The energy in the room shifted noticeably, the muffled music from outside making it seem like you were far further removed from the rest of the world than you really were. You looked at Remus to find he was already studying you intently, the tension between you palpable.

Slowly, like neither of you could believe what you were doing, you leant towards each other with lidded eyes, completely focused on the other’s lips. At first, it was so light you weren’t even sure you’d made contact, your lips brushing each other so slightly you might as well have missed.

With confidence you didn’t know you possessed, you finally closed the gap between you, letting out an involuntary moan. That seemed to send Remus into overdrive, his huge hands cupping both cheeks and pulling you into him with vigour. You followed his lead, clambering into his lap to straddle him on the tile floor, deepening the kiss and letting Remus’ tongue explore your mouth.

Your fingers threaded through his hair as Remus’ trailed down to your hips, moving them against him erratically, the two of you completely lost in each other. You were utterly absorbed in Remus, his taste, his smell, the feel of his rough fingers brushing the skin of your waist under your shirt.

It was only when he released your lips to press open-mouth kisses down the column of your throat that you came to your senses, pushing Remus away in a panic. Neither of you said anything for a moment, both panting in time as you made heavy-lidded eye contact.

“Remus — we can’t — I have a boyfriend,” You stumbled but made no move to get off of him, and Remus’ hands didn’t move from their place on your hips, long fingers sitting just on the edge of your arse.

“Dump him,” He begged pathetically, “Please. Dump him, give me a chance. I swear to God, if you give me a chance I’ll fucking worship you. Your body, your mind, your soul. I’ll never fucking look at another person as long as I live, I’ll never break your heart, Dove. Please.” He was babbling, words spilling out a mile a minute as he grasped at you, trying to convince you to keep kissing him.

You knew it was wrong on so many levels. Remus had just been dumped, you were cheating on your boyfriend, for God’s sake! But then Remus bucked his hips into yours, his aching hard-on brushing against your pulsing core. You moaned, high-pitched and breathy as all thoughts of right and wrong left your head in favour of the desire burning in your lower belly, compelling you to tighten your grip on Remus’ curls, a sign for him to continue nipping and sucking at your pulse point.

“Fuck! I’ll, uh,” You moaned, “I’ll break up with him tonight. Promise.”

“Good,” Remus grunted, dragging your hips against him aggressively, “He doesn’t fucking deserve you. I’ll fuck you till you can’t remember that bastard’s name.”

[hopepunk-humanity]

this is hope-punk to me but i'm not quite sure how this'll fit with the rest of the blog so i'm anon-ing. this is very heavy into the US's situation right now, so anyone that that may make spiral, maybe sit this one out

y'all know about the attempted "buy-out" of govt workers? my parents are govt employees. my mom told me the night before about the mass emails sent out basically saying "hey guysss if you quit now we'll pay your through september pretty pretty please quit"

mass emails don't usually get sent out from the OPM like this. workers receive emails from the individual department heads.

this is a massive fuck-up, because people knew it was fishy immediately. some even thought it was fake. people are confused and angry. my mom said "they're so tech-savvy yet they can't even write a convincing email", and thousands of other workers are saying the same. because this email is the exact same email that Melon Husk sent out to Twitter employees before he cut them

but this isn't Twitter. this is the entire US government workforce that hundreds of millions of people rely on to do their jobs every single day.

mind you, the govt is gonna run out of money March 15th (if the debt ceiling isn't raised). they CANNOT pay any workers who resign through september, if they pay them at all, which senator Tim Kaine (D-VA) is openly highly skeptical of and there is a video of him on the senate floor telling government workers to not take the deal, echoing exactly what federal unions are telling everyone

and now tens of thousands (probably hundreds, if i'm being honest) of govt workers are standing firm. they know what this means. the fed subreddit is just filled with "stand firm! hold the line!" posts and propaganda that i fucking love to see. one post has over 60k upvotes on it. saw dozens of comments that all say something like "i've been begging for a way out for the past few weeks but this email just reignited my passion for public service and upholding the law".

this is a war on the american people and they are ready to stand up to it. they know mass resignations will fuck up so much shit, and that there is NOT enough people wanting to work for the government to fill those holes.

as of 2pm today (1/29/25), a lawsuit has been filed by the AFGE about Trump trying to politicize the civil service, with special emphasis on how he's going about it. this will not go down quietly. add that to the list of every other lawsuit being filed against him

my mom sent out "keep calm and carry on" to her team and offered guidance if anyone was thinking about resigning (mainly, her younger team members who don't have tenure - understandable). this is a tumultuous time that is scary. my mom is never phased but she is so over this bullshit, as is my dad

this administration is trying to scare/threaten people into quitting because they know a gutting is not going to be easy or even possible and to be completely honest, that email was absolutely a threat to people's jobs.

this is a grand stand of solidarity to the american citizens these people took an OATH to work for. they are tired but they are re-fired up to fight this administration with everything.

and do you know what fighting tyranny looks like for government workers? doing their jobs well. making sure people get what they need. standing up for the constitution. because for some goddamn reason, the clown show believes that government workers just sit at a desk all day and do absolutely NOTHING

Donny may be smarter this time 'round and he knows what he wants, but he has no idea how to get any of it.

bottom-line is, a large chunk of federal workers are in republican-lead states in roles that encompass every department. a lot of government work involves blue-collar workers that get paid jack shit and are NOT partisan in any capacity. this is going to fuck people up, REGARDLESS of political affiliation

so stand behind the government workers who do so much. they need us just as much as we need them. and trust, WE NEED THEM.

if you want us to be okay, you have to believe that we CAN be okay first. and i'm believing that we will come out onto the other side of this. because american citizens hold all the power here, and not him, and this (so far failed) government takeover is just proving that even more. he is overconfident.

in the darkness, this is a spark of hope. people know what we have to lose and they are FIGHTING for it

As someone who was trying to get a federal job before this mess forced me to put those efforts on hold for now, I've been watching this situation unfold closely. I'm thrilled with what I've seen from the federal workforce. It makes me all the more confident that this is the career I want, because the people already there have the same mindset about it. It assures me, too, that there a huge swathes of the government (far more people than in congress) who have this country's best interests at heart.

Suffice to say, it's been really difficult to be hopeful about the U.S. government for the past several years. But for me at least, the federal workers are re-writing the narrative.

Hold the line. Don't resign.

[deangirlsstuff67]

Stressed Out

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean is stressed, you’re frustrated and you’re both stuck inside Baby together. Can Dean teach you a thing or two.

Warnings: male receiving oral, dirty talk, language, pet names, fingering, squirting, virgin reader

Authors Note: I love Jensen and his family. This is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only. I have this idea for a mini series and this is the first fan fiction in it. Hope you enjoy !

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Dean had been stressed all week over this stupid case. Nothing seems to be adding up, the more digging you do, the more questions you end up having.

Sam was left in the motel room to comb through more lore as you and Dean ventured out to find some decent food. The plan was to call Bobby and see if he could help point you guys in the right direction.

If not, more research was in store.

You’re praying to whatever bullshit god is out there that between the three of you, you figure out what this creature is sooner rather than later. Sam and Dean have started to get on each others last nerve and not only has it started to annoy you also, but you know they are gonna kill each other if this keeps up.

In the front seat of the impala you’re listening to Dean basically talk to himself under his breath. Cussing out Sammy, trying to piece together this mystery, even heard him promise himself that he’s going to go find someone to fuck nice and hard to relieve some of his stress.

That got your attention. Your body responding to his words instantly as the start of your arousal creeps in. The more he mumbles under his breath about needing to cum, or wanting to bed someone over the hood of the impala, or hearing how he wants to sink his cock into a wet, hot mouth has your thighs squeezing together and your virgin pussy clench around nothing.

The older Winchester has always been attractive in your eyes. Rough and rugged, sharp jaw line, piercing green eyes that feel like they’re peering into your soul.

You’d be lying if you said you’ve never thought about him in the dark of night, laying in bed with your fingers dancing across your clit just begging for a release.

Sadly, you know that fantasy will never come true. You’re like his little sister. Best friend even. He trusts you with his darkest secrets and protects you at all costs. If it wasn’t for Dean you probably wouldn’t be a virgin. He doesn’t let anyone close enough to try these days.

Does he know you’re a virgin? No.

You shift in the seat, trying to find someone relief from the building fire within your core. As the night rushes past the windows, you begin to imagine what being on your knees in front of Dean would feel like. How those gorgeous emerald eyes would be looking down at you, blown wide with desire as you wrap your lips around his thick, hard cock. Wondering how wet his could make you with the little noises you’d pull from him as you choke on his length.

Fuck you’re practically dripping all over his leather seats right now. Maybe you should have remembered underwear under this mini skirt.

You’re lost in your thoughts when you hear Deans voice, “you okay sweetheart?”

Snapping your head towards him, you see that he’s pulled over into what looks like an abandoned gas station on the side of the road.

When the hell did we stop?

“Yeah, I’m all good Dean.” Hopefully he doesn’t see the blush warming your cheeks.

Something predatory flashes in his irises when you lightly squeeze your thighs together again. You didn’t mean to, but the more he looks you up and down, the more your pussy is drooling for the man.

Fuck you need to get back to the motel and look yourself in the bathroom.

No words are exchanged as he slowly moves his large hand to rest on your upper thigh. Gripping tight enough to entice a whimper from you, he smirks as he lazily drags you closer to him in the seat.

“You sure about that, your body seems to be telling me something different.”

Leaning towards you, he searches for any sign that you don’t want this. He’s own fantasy pushing him forward when he finds no resistance from you. Soft, pillowy lips connect with yours in a heated kiss. You take your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly earning yourself a deep groan that you swallow down.

You have to tell him.

When breathing is needed you both break away from each other. Foreheads resting on each other. Closing your eyes you confess your darkest secret to the man of your dreams, praying he won’t be scared off.

“Dean…”

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“I’m… I’m a virgin.”

His hand resting on your thigh gentle squeezes as he shuts his eyes and groans. Nothing has sounded more sexy than those three little words to him.

“Okay, you want this?”

“Yeah I do.”

“Going to be a good girl and listen to me?”

He pulls back as he watches you, studying your responses. All you can do is nod, because you find him calling you a good girl so damn hot.

“I’m a big guy y/n,” a whimper escapes your lips that makes him smirk, “we’re going to have to prepare you good and slow to make sure I don’t hurt you.”

“Okay…”

“Good girl.” He releases your thigh and your face is painted in confusion. Laughing he fires Baby back up and merges back onto the dark highway.

“Take your skirt off for me and leaning against the door. Put your leg over the back of the seat. Want to see how wet you are for me baby.”

Something inside you snaps. Between your arousal and crush on the man beside you, your body betrays you as it responds and listens to Deans demands.

Slowly you slide your skirt down your tan legs, throwing it somewhere into the backseat. Leaning against the door of the impala, you spread your bare pussy for Dean to see.

Groaning he licks his lips when he sees you have no panties on and are glistening for him and only him.

Slowly he moves a hand off the steering wheel, the touch is light at first. Just rubbing the wetness all around your outer lips as he drives down the road. You can hear his breath hitch, “this all for me sweetheart?”

You can’t answer, too turned on by his touch, all you can do is nod as you let out another whimper for him.

“Mmm… good girl.” Skillfully Dean finds your clit in the dark, “you touch yourself thinking about me baby girl?”

“Yes…”

“Make yourself cum thinking of how my cock would split this tiny pussy open?”

“Oh god…”

As quick as his hand was on you, it’s gone. You whine at the lack of touch making him chuckle, “touch yourself for me y/n, show me what you do when you’re thinking about me.”

Your brain short circuits with his request. You never thought you’d be doing this with Dean fucking Winchester.

Getting food for the three of you has been forgotten as he watched you pleasure yourself while he drives his Baby down the deserted highway.

Wet, squelching noises and laboured breath from both you and Dean fills the car as he speeds down the highway. Deans eyes are focused on your fingers pumping in and out of your dripping cunt, occasionally making sure he’s in his lane.

“Faster baby, make your pussy drool for me.” He’s palm rubs against his rock hard cock trapped inside his jeans, begging for attention. You move your hand faster and deeper, finding that special spot inside your trembling walls that makes you sing his name as your y/e/c roll in the back of your head.

“That’s it baby girl, look at you all fucked out while I watch…” his words push you to edge, a couple more thrusts of your hand and Deans large hand pulls yours away, “nah sweetheart, your going to cum on my fingers.” That’s all the warning you get before two thick fingers plunge straight into your well used pussy stretching you wider than you’ve ever experienced. Two deep thrusts and he has you screaming his name as you squeeze the life out of his fingers trying to push them out.

Dean watches the cum squirt out of your cunt and down his arm onto his leather seats, “damn baby, did you just squirt for me?”

You don’t responded because he is still moving those glorious fingers inside you, massaging that spot that makes you see starts just right. You feel another one building fast as he keeps going, “fuck that’s hot, going to have fun playing with my new toy.”

You’re about to cum again when you feel him remove his hand and Baby slow to a stop. Whimpering in frustration Dean chuckles at you as he exists the impala, leaning in and dragging you to the edge of the seat.

“On your knees y/n.”

Sinking down to the ground you obey without question, reaching up to start undoing his jeans. You fumble with his button, looking up as you push his jeans and boxers down just enough to release his cock. A dangerous look crosses Deans features as he stares at you on your knees in front of him begging to be fucked senseless.

Your y/e/c eyes widen when you take in his length and girth, “think you can handle what you just released sweetheart?”

Meeting his gaze, “I don’t know.”

Taking his dick by the base he slaps it against your cheek, rubbing the pre cum leaking out of his angry cock all over your lips before you open up allowing him to slip inside your warm, waiting mouth. A groan leaves his sinful lips as he shuts his eyes at the feeling.

Slowly you begin bobbing down his length. Deans hand lays on the back of your head helping guide you. “Come on baby, you can take more. Relax your throat for me.”

You gag when his large cock head touches the back of your throat, you go to pull back but he stops you, keeping you choking on his dick, “relax baby, let me in. You can take it y/n.”

Tears falls from your eyes as you struggle to take him deeper. Finally he feels your throat relax and pushes forward. Slowly filling your throat until your nose pushes against the soft brown curls framing the beautiful monster invading you. “Fuck… look at that.” His hand traces the bulge in your throat as you stare up at him with hooded eyes.

“You ready baby girl?”

You moan your response and grip onto the back of his thighs just as he pulls out and pushes back in. After a couple slow thrusts Dean begins to speed up his pace. Within seconds he’s fucking your throat raw with his head thrown back enjoying the feel of your throat squeezing him tight.

Dean knows he isn’t going to last long like this and he needs to watch you cum again before he floods your mouth, “touch your virgin pussy for me. I need to see you make a mess all over the ground while you choke on my cock.”

Listening immediately you push two fingers inside your velvet walls. It doesn’t take you long to get to the edge again, Dean watched as he keeps the rhythm deep in your throat, “cum y/n, make a mess for me… fuck this is so hot.”

How words push you over that edge. Hot cum comes squirting out of your cunt and onto the ground below you. Two more deep pushes and you feel his dick twitch before saltiness invade your mouth and throat.

Fuck, without even needing your fingers your pussy squirts again from the feeling of him unloading inside you. Dean sees it and groans your name as the last few spurts land on your tongue before he gentle pulls out of your mouth completely.

Your whole body is trembling when he pulls you to your feet. Hands sprawled on your hips to keep you steady, backing you against the impala before bringing his lips to yours in a heated kiss. Licking into your mouth and he brings one hand around to gently rub your puffy pussy making you moan into the kiss as he chuckles.

Forehead against yours he looks deep into your y/e/c irises moving his hand across your clit repeatedly until your squirting yet again, making his hand a fucking mess.

“Fuck I’ll never get tired of that,” he brings his fingers to your mouth and watches you suck your juices off for him, “your mine now y/n, this tiny virgin pussy is about to be ruined for any other man.”

Kissing you sweetly this time, “say it sweetheart.”

“I’m yours Dean.”

“That’s right,” spinning you around he smacks your ass as he pushes you back into the car, “don’t tap out on me yet, I’m going to play with this leaking cunt all the way back to the motel, then I’m going to watch as my big fat dick splits you in two as your scream my name.”

And fuck if your cunt doesn’t clench for him to see as your ass is in the air as you crawl to the passenger side, “oh kitten, looks like your pussy likes that idea. Stay just like that. I’m going to have some fun.”

—————————————————————————

Taglist:

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @spnaquakindgdom @yvonneeeee @syrma-sensei @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @deansimpalababy @nancymcl @tspmoff @idontwannabehere78 @foxyjwls007 @senjoritanana @leigh70 @neii3n @maggiegirl17 @jamerlynn @mostlymarvelgirl @kimxwinchester @multiversefanfics @supershygirl @impala67rollingthroughtown @justwhisperingfantasies @barnes70stark

[yesimwriting]

I think your idea of Bestie finding out Armand is basically bi after a night out and almost changing in front of him has a lot of potential, I am very intrigued by exactly how he’d phrase it tbh

this turned into a first look of extremely openly pining Armand <3

----

There's an easiness to the darkness, a comfort in its ability to morph the passing of time into something much more lethargic. It's this warped, simpler version of time that has to be responsible for Armand's proximity.

You turn your head as subtly as you can manage, your focus abandoning the television screen in favor of watching Armand. He's closer than you're used to him being, with his weight practically resting against your arm.

If your attention makes him more aware of the lack of space between you, he gives no indication of it. Instead of attempting to create distance, he shifts even closer, his knuckles coming to brush against your shoulder. The gesture is so deliberate it leaves your skin feeling a little warmer than it did a moment ago.

"It was your idea to watch a movie." Your attempt at scolding him into paying attention feels flat, almost hollow in its lack of conviction. "You said you were bored--that Louis and I had left you to entertain yourself for too long."

He leans towards you, pressing his lips against your shoulder. "I feel thoroughly entertained."

It takes more effort than it should to think of a response. "I thought I was boring and undeserving of your attention."

Armand straightens slightly, pulling his head away from your pillow. "I've never considered you boring." He places a hand against your shoulder, his thumb dragging itself over the start of your collar bone. "And if there's anything you're deserving of, it's attention."

There's a quality to the way that Armand is watching you that amplifies the lingering buzz of alcohol still in your system. In an attempt to move past the feeling, you lift an arm before placing a hand against his arm. "I don't think you're boring, either."

He watches you with an openness that's difficult not to reciprocate. It's too dark for you to make out the details of his expression, but the TV's glow is enough for you to note the slight crease of his eyebrows. His eyes are much warmer and closer to brown than they were beneath the living room's bright lighting.

After another second, Armand's gaze shifts away from you. "Don't tell me things you don't mean."

The response makes you frown. You move carefully, doing your best to sit up a little more without startling him. "I mean it." You squeeze his arm, as if to convince him you're telling the truth. "I like the way you describe things." You drag your thumb against the inside of his wrist. "And you have this specific sense of humor that's easy to miss if you're not paying attention."

"And you pay attention?"

You tilt your head a little at that. "I think so."

Armand hums once, his eyes remaining on you for another second before he relaxes even further, his head coming to rest against your ribs. "How committed are you to staying awake until Louis returns?"

Hm...it's a fair question. After the two of you got back, Louis wanted to feed--which is something he prefers to do in private--and shower before doing anything else. You were planning on sitting with Louis for a bit before going to bed, which seemed like a much more realistic goal when you were sitting in the living room.

Despite the strangeness of the suddenness of his proximity, you can't bring yourself to mind it. In some ways, his nearness feels a little like finally winning over a stubborn cat. "Like...medium committed." You place a hand against his back. "I should probably change so that I have the option to go to bed."

He lifts his head enough to rest his chin against your stomach. "I can step out to give you your privacy."

There haven't been many occasions in which you've had to think about the implications of changing in front of Armand. It's not like he's around you as often as Louis, who you barely even hesitate to change in the same room as anymore. Which, you guess, could be considered a precedent.

If you're okay with Louis sitting on your bed while you change into your pajamas in the corner, you can't think of much of a reason to make Armand leave. It's not like he's ever made you feel uncomfortable.

"You can stay in here, if you want." The offer feels much more awkward than it should be. "You're comfortable, and I never kick Louis out of my room, so..."

He's quiet for a moment, his palm finding the small gap between your going out top and skirt. "It's not exactly the same," the admission leaves him slowly.

You blink, your eyebrows drawing together as you try to dissect the sentence's meaning. "It's not?"

He drags his thumb against your side. "My preferences aren't as definitive as Louis's."

Your subconscious seems to understand the implications of his phrasing immediately, your body nearly tensing before you've fully grasped what he's saying.

It's not like you've ever been weirdly forward with Armand--or at the very least, you've never meant to be--and you guess you've always been aware of the possibility of Armand's sexual orientation being different than Louis's, but having it directly mentioned in this context isn't exactly easing.

Is it...okay for you guys to be this close? Louis has seen you and Armand be comfortable with each other before, but that was while he was still in the room.

"Oh," the response feels a little too flat, "Well, now I'm a little offended on Megan Fox's behalf that you're not more invested in Jennifer's body."

"Bichette." He watches you for another moment, like he's waiting for the opportunity to say something else, but even when you allow the silence to linger, he doesn't try to speak again.

You bring your hand back to your side. "I can go change in the bathroom."

He straightens, pulling himself away from you as he moves to sit. "I don't mind waiting."

You take advantage of the newfound space, pushing yourself to sit up. fully. "Yeah, but I--I need to wash my makeup off anyway, so you can wait in here if you want."

Armand's eyebrows briefly draw together. "Alright." He leans towards you, pressing his lips against your shoulder before lying down again.

You can't bring yourself to move until you're sure he's relaxed. The act of walking to the guest room's dresser and blindly searching for your pajamas feels longer than it ever has. Once you've gathered your things, you step out into the hall.

Even though the bathroom isn't far enough to provide any mental privacy, being in an empty, well lit space makes it a little easier to assess the situation. You're not feeling up to washing your face yet, but you turn on the faucet anyway. The more normal you seem, the less likely Armand is to poke around your thoughts.

So, you know that Armand's preferences aren't as specific as Louis's. All that means is that he's physically capable of being attracted to other genders, but that--that doesn't necessarily need to change anything. After all, you're still you, and all Armand does is remind you of how insufferable he finds you.

And beyond that, Armand is with Louis...and he has been for 77 years. Nearly eight decades. You'd have to be completely narcissistic to think that you could homewreck them, on accident or otherwise.

Feeling a little better, you cup your hands beneath the faucet, splashing water onto your face to begin the process of removing your makeup.

You finish washing your face before changing out of your top and skirt and into an oversized T-shirt and shorts. As you get ready for bed, you force yourself to not let your mind dwell on much beyond your actions. By the time you're brushing your teeth, the thought of returning to your room no longer feels so significant. Still, you take your time folding your clothes before leaving the bathroom.

You walk down the hall carefully, as if doing your best to not startle him.

Armand doesn't move when you return to the bedroom, but something about his stillness doesn't feel like sleep. Your mindful of your movements as you return the skirt to its drawer and your top to its spot in your closet.

You do your best to make returning to bed seem as casual and un-abrupt as possible, pulling back your sheets sheets with the same level of care you would have used to keep from scaring off a wounded stray.

As soon as you're settled, you turn your head to look at him. He's lying on his back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. You were right to assume that he was awake.

"I'm back." The words come out so quietly they're nearly drowned out by the movie's dialogue.

He shifts, turning his head enough to look at you. "I noticed."

You're not sure how you're meant to respond, so you settle for nodding once. The lull that follows isn't as comfortable as your usual shared silences.

After a brief stretch of nothingness, Armand shifts onto his side. "It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable."

Great, you weren't normal enough about things and now he thinks that you find him weird.

"I know." You really do mean the response. You're not uncomfortable with what he told you, you're just a tiny bit surprised. Everyone is always so worried about your ability to come to terms with the fact that the vampires in your life need blood to sustain themselves, but that's nothing when it comes to accepting the fact that they can read your every thought and micro-reaction.

He's studying you again, likely once again assessing a number of variables, like the rate of your heartbeat or your breathing, to determine how honest you're being. "I can leave if you'd like." You frown. "I'd never want to you to feel like you're unsafe here."

It feels strange to think about his perception of your safety considering how often he reminds you of how simple it would be for him to end your life. Maybe there's a reason that his threats feel so over the top and hollow.

You let out a breath, tilting your head slightly as you think through your response. "I don't feel unsafe," you begin slowly, "Or uncomfortable."

He doesn't seem eased by your words. You let out another sigh before bringing your palm to the side of his face. Armand exhales at the contact, leaning into your touch before letting his eyes fall shut.

"If anything, the argument could be made that I feel a little too comfortable."

His hand finds your wrist, his thumb tracing patterns against your pulse point. "What do you mean?"

You keep your eyes focused on where he's holding onto your wrist. "I don't know." You're not fully sure how to explain what you mean. Things that revolve around potential insecurity are a lot easier to discuss with Louis. "Do you think I'm around too much? Like to an extent that's weird?"

Giving Armand an excuse to chase you away when you're already feeling unsure is an objectively a bad idea, but the question's now out there and you have no way to take it back.

Instead of responding, he gently pulls your hand away from his face before tilting his chin downwards. He brings his lips to your inner wrist.

"I've never understood the mortal commitment to conformity." You can't bring yourself to do much beyond stare at him. "Are you happy with our arrangement?" It takes you a second longer than it should for you to think to nod. "Then I don't see why anything else should matter."

The response makes some sense, especially when you consider how harmless the issue is. It's not like your friendship with Louis or your regularity in their lives is hurting anyone.

You nod again. "You're very wise for someone that's only half a millennium old."

The corner of his mouth turns up slightly at that, but the look feels void of true amusement. "You're not the first to tell me that."

His attempt at continuing your joke feels natural enough for you to dismiss the nuances of his expression. It's dark and you're tired, two factors keeping you from completing a truly accurate assessment.

You turn your hand without breaking out of his hold, intertwining your fingers without a second thought. "I think I'm gonna go to bed now."

He squeezes your hand to his. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." It doesn't feel like a big decision. Louis seems to be taking his time, and it's not like he'll genuinely mind your decision to go to sleep. "I'll talk to Louis tomorrow."

He dips his chin downwards in a vague approximation of a nod. "Okay."

You relax a little further, moving to lay down fully. You've just barely settled when you feel Armand rest his head against your chest. It takes you a moment to ease, but once you finally do, you're surprised by how much you don't mind his presence.

The temperature of their skin has become so familiar you've learned to associate the feel of it with comfort. You don't feel that distinct coolness radiating from Armand.

You place a hand against his back. "You're warmer than usual."

"I fed before your arrival."

Louis struggles with your awareness of his nature enough, so you often do your best to keep your curiosity to yourself. So while you're not sure about the specifics of blood feeding, what Armand's telling you does make sense.

"Oh." The change isn't an uncomfortable one, it's just a little different than you're accustomed to. "It's kind of nice."

He squeezes your hand to his again before responding. "Do you prefer me this way?"

You don't think you necessarily like him better this way. His warmth isn't a bad thing, but there's nothing wrong or unsettling about his natural state, either. "I prefer you however you are." It feels a fair enough response.

He exhales against your neck. For a moment, you think that's the only response you're going to get, but then Armand shifts again, pressing his lips against collar bone before fully easing.

[babextoken]

so I can have you to myself...for once

summary: new boyfriend!virgin!vessel thinks the world of you and can't think of a better way to show it than giving himself to you completely

vessel x fem!reader 𐙚

head's up/tags: switchy desperate lovesick vessel, sweet gone feral, smut with feelings, loss of virginity (lots of checking in and sensitivity), new established relationship, vessel is touch starved and simping, pet names (craziest one is puppy-girl tbh), p in v, dirty talk

Something Vessel didn’t tell you when you first matched on Tinder was that he was…well…how would he have even put it? Touch starved? Desperate? Needy? But you seemed to understand that. You were always holding hands while walking, or in a tight embrace if you were waiting at a crosswalk, or your legs and feet were touching while you sat. You get the idea. As much as he enjoyed the affection, he needed more. While he didn’t out himself as being, well, completely desperate for any kind of physical affection, he was upfront about being a virgin. Sure, he’d fooled around. He’d been blown plenty of times backstage and at parties…and yes he knows where the clitiros AND g-spot are, thank you for asking. But it never led to intercourse. In fact, it didn’t always lead to a relationship or a text back. A lot of times the timing was just off or the person was wrong for him or neither party wanted to. Which was completely understandable, but he had started to wonder if something was wrong with him. That was until he met you.

You were witty, kind, fun. Easy to talk to. And deeply into him. Vessel understood the allure of him. His aura and what came with it physically but otherwise he couldn't understand why you would want to stick around for more. Yeah sure he put himself out there on Tinder during a break from tour and he wanted the attention, but you…you were an angel. You made him take a step back and really consider what he’d been doing all this time. The drive to feel someone and something from others was strong for him. The sex he’d had wasn’t “consummating” by the wider society’s standards, and he was at peace with that, but he finally saw some truth in “saving yourself for the right person.” And it all came from a very sweet genuine place. He thought the world of you! But the other drive... To taste. To ravish. To fuck. That was very much running in the background.

When you two started having serious conversations about your histories and preferences, he was nervous. When he admitted that he’d never actually fucked someone, you chuckled just the tiniest bit, making him blush. 

 “What’s so funny?”

You just shook your head and looked past him, trying to keep a level head.  “I’m not laughing at you. Just myself.”

“Oh. Why…at you?”

“Because I could have really fucked things up. Do you know how hard it is to be good around you? To not just…rip your clothes off every time you come over? To not immediately drop to my knees with my tongue out like a greedy little puppy-girl?” You paused and met his gaze. Poor guy was blushing and breathing like he’d been out in the heat. “I don’t want to scare you. It’s not like I would push you or anything, but I’m glad I know. If you’d ever like to…you know…do something with me. Just let me know. I think we could have a lot of fun together.”

And that’s when Vessel started loving you and simultaneously cursing you. Loving you because you were so sweet, and patient, and gorgeous, and fun, and thoughtful and and and(at this point whoever was listening would pat his shoulder and say, “we get it, mate, you’re whipped”). But he cursed the day he mentioned being a virgin to you because he couldn’t get that image out of his head: you on your knees, begging for his cock. You saw all his scars and flaws and still wanted him in the rawest, most basic way. That blew his mind.

…

On the night you two finally slept together, you stayed out later than usual. Probably past midnight. But you don’t care. He clung to you all night at that stupid party and tried to make out with you in the Uber like a horny teenager. It was adorable. He was adorable. Back at your place, you fiddle for your keys on the darkened porch, which was quite difficult with a giggly man clinging to you. 

“Use your phone light,” Vessel says as he holds your waist and kisses your neck.

You let out a playful, exasperated sigh. “You use your phone light! My hands are full!” Finally the front door opens, and you both clamber in. Vessel’s hands find your waist again and pull you in for a frantic kiss. His hands can’t stay still as he clutches your plush ass but then trails all the way back up to grasp your hair. With a moan he pulls away.

“I think… I want to try it tonight.”

The giddiness and giggliness doesn’t stop once you fall onto your bed, making out and attempting to undress each other. Vessel kicks off his shoes and hesitantly moves away from you so he can take off his jeans. You lean back on your elbows, shaking your head softly. “So eager for me,” you chuckle.

He stands before you in his boxer briefs after he’s taken his shirt off, just taking in the sight of you. His fingers twitch by his side…and so does his cock. You like what you see and feel yourself propelled forward. Onto your knees. “Gonna take care of me, babe?” he asks with a shaky breath. He whimpers softly and bites his lip as you smirk up at him with a little smirk as your fingers lightly trace the waistband of his underwear and his happy trail. On the inside, he’s a mess. He feels the need to claim you as his. He doesn’t even really care about losing his virginity. Vessel just wants to know he’s been with you. The thought of screwing up tonight and not fucking you makes him cringe. He can’t take another night of fucking his stupid little fleshlight and sucking his own fingers pretending both holes are yours. When you ask if you can take his boxers off, he nods dumbly and bites his lip. He thinks he must have blacked out because suddenly your tongue glides from base to tip. Such a pretty smile on your face, too.

“Take your dress off. Please. Please, baby,” he pleads.You shake your head “no” with a little wink as you take his cock deeper into your mouth, nose almost touching him. “Fuck. My girl is talented,” he says as his chest starts to heave a little, “mmm please I…I want to see you.” He can barely get the words out as you let your tongue drag up the underside of his cock. As your lips pass over the head, Vessel’s panting turns into little whimpery moans. “Please.” You gaze up at him through half lidded eyes and see that he’s chewing on his lip and shaking…he wants to manhandle you. He needs to act out. “Fuck it.” Vessel takes your jaw in his hand and holds you so that you’re looking up at him.

“I am done begging. This is me telling you. Take your fucking dress off for me.”

His voice is firm. Dark. Lustful. 

“Yes sir,” is all you can manage before pulling the straps down. You stand up and let the satin-y material pool around your tummy. Vessel curses and growls under his breath as his eyes trail down your bare chest, his hands then pulling your dress further down your plush waist and hips. The feeling of his thumbs hooking the waistband of your panties makes you gasp a little. Vessel just shakes his head and chuckles as he undresses you. 

“You’ve already sucked my cock like it was nothing and yet me undressing you embarrasses you? And here…I thought you would be bossing me around tonight. You’ve folded, hm?”

“I uhm…heh.” You can’t even finish your thought as he pulls your hair back so you look straight up at him. “Got…got too excited I guess.”

“Hm,” he hums with amusement, “like a greedy puppy-girl. All bark…but you have any bite for me? Hmm?”

You stammer as he pushes you back on the bed. There’s something in how he maneuvers you that feels calculated. Practiced. “Ves…babe…? Are you sure you’ve never done this?”

He laughs as he lays atop you, his cock rubbing against your tummy. You can feel him quivering as your nude bodies touch for the first time. Vessel steadies his breath and whispers into your neck, “baby, if you had kept sucking me any longer I was going to lose it…but just because I’ve never been fucked doesn’t mean I don’t think about it.” His cock twitches between you both. “I know what I’m doing. And…dammit I know I’m going to just absolutely…” he pauses as his fingers mash against your clit “…drain myself so fast once I’m inside you. My pretty girl.” He trails wet, sucking kisses down your shoulder, breathing heavily as he poses a question. “I know you think about this. Has it made you cum?” You grit your teeth and whimper as his middle finger enters you and starts to fuck you. 

“Veeeeessssss fuck, baby…s’not nice to ask me something…while you…fuck.” He’s relishing in you trying to answer as he adds a second finger. Your hips buck against his fingers as he kisses your forehead and coos about what a sexy little thing you are. You can’t help the whines coming from you as he pulls his fingers from your needy pussy. All sense in your head flies out the window when he sucks his fingers clean and tastes you for the very first time. “What happened to my sweet, timid boyfriend?” you ask breathlessly.

Vessel plants a soft, deep kiss on your lips as he nudges the head of his cock against your entrance. You find yourself giggling breathlessly as he peppers your face with kisses before he rubs his nose against yours and whispers. “Still him. Just taking what you’ve so very kindly offered me…fuck…you gonna let me in, love?”

You nod softly and whimper as he pushes in. A pathetic, throaty moan ripples through him as he bottoms out. You’d never been someone’s first. It was a bit surprising but very endearing to see him go from feral and touch starved to blushy and pussy-drunk. Vessel wants to move. To feel your hot body against his…to hear you…to kiss you…to have any simultaneous feedback. His lust reciprocated. 

The instinct to care for him kicks in. You hold his face and whisper. “You feel so good inside me…you do baby…I want you so bad… Do you feel good?” His eyebrows knit together and he whimpers softly, wincing like he’s in pain. But he nods. “Do you want me to take care of you?” He nods again and buries his face in your neck. God his cock is throbbing hard inside you. Your hips buck sensually against him, riding from beneath. 

“Oh…fuck…you’re actually…you’re fucking me…you’re fucking me…” he whimpers pathetically. He winces and bites his lip. “Stop, baby.” 

“Are you ok?”

Vessel looks down at you with hazy, dreamy eyes and nods. “This is heaven. You are heaven.” His mouth goes to your nipple while he maneuvers one of your legs over his arm. “What did I do to deserve this…hm? Smart, beautiful girl with a perfect pussy…you shouldn’t have been single,” he whispers as he moves to kiss your lips. You both moan into the kiss, which makes his hips twitch. You feel the first tentative little thrusts and make sure to nod and “mhm” throughout the kiss to encourage him. He breaks the kiss, panting and quivering. You’re about to ask if he wants a break but he looks you dead in the eyes and gulps. “I love you, but I’m feeling a little overwhelmed. You’re driving me crazy. I’ve…I’ve wanted this for so long…and doing it with you I just…darling….” He trails off, thrusting slowly, making your eyes roll back from the stretch and feeling of his pubic bone meeting yours. You can tell he’s holding back. Holding his breath.

“Ves…Ves, babe…breathe with me. You’re ok…you feel so fucking good.”

“I can’t stand it…I have to…I need to…”

The look in his eyes betrays the sweet pout of his lips. He wants to claim you. Shape your insides to him. “Do it. I can take it.” 

He growls in your ear with a little chuckle, “you’re not one of my toys. I don’t want to hurt you…” He takes a shaky breath and cups your breast with his free hand, his other resting above your head.

“I trust you. And love you. You look sexy up there, ya know?” You say with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. He responds with another chuckle and kisses you deeply. You both get lost in each other and then he finds his rhythm again. You have no concept of how long he actually lasts. And you don’t care. When he cums he keeps fucking it into you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he cries out your name…little curses…broken moans. 

The next morning, he spoons you. Pressing his morning wood against you and whining about how you didn’t cum last night. “I know I don’t know everything yet, babes, but maybe I could just poke around…play a little? Please?” 

[avelera]

Some Viktor (Arcane) Musings:

The thing is, I think Viktor must have told Jayce about his illness at some point in S1 before Viktor collapsed and ended up in the hospital

The reason being that it's literally impossible to ignore how much Viktor's health deteriorates in the 6-7 years between 1.03 and 1.04. There's no way he could not give Jayce some clue of what's going on with him.

But, for my own purpose and that of the fics I write, my thought was that Viktor maybe... downplayed the severity.

For example, my take is that if you have this fissure illness, you generally don't live past 30 in the undercity and Viktor knows this. He must have had some sense of a timeline, because his headlong rush to secure a legacy indicates the he knew he probably wasn't going to die of old age.

This, I think, he would be upfront with Jayce about. That they have to advance Hextech to the point where it's making breakthroughs in disciplines other than weightlessness and teleportation if Viktor has any chance of living a long life. Jayce would be on board with this fully, I think. Magic can do anything so if they're fast, and dedicated, chances are they can find something that will also improve biology too.

But, I think Viktor lied or played down how short of a time he actually had. Like, he told Jayce he probably wouldn't die of old age without Hextech intervention, and Jayce took that and like any sheltered, naive Piltie from a good family he thought, "This is awful, Viktor might never see 80!" Thinking that Viktor might, without intervention, only live to see, like... 60.

I also headcanon that once you start coughing up blood, it's a bit like TB, you don't have much time after that. So in 1.02/1.03, Viktor is driven to make a legacy for himself knowing he doesn't have a lot of time, but he might even still be fooling himself to think he's got more time than he does because of his move to Piltover. He has cleaner air here, better nutrition, better sun exposure, an easier life, etc. If the life expectancy in the underground for this disease is 25-30 or less, why should he maybe see 40 in Piltover?

But then... tragedy strikes. He starts coughing blood sometime during the time skip. His health rapidly deteriorates, and he doesn't tell Jayce that this means he's probably only got a few months to a few years left. He basically allows Jayce to keep living with the illusion that Viktor has limited time, because that would be unavoidable to realize just by looking at him, but still maybe decades remaining.

What compounds the problem here is that Viktor also tends to obfuscate his need for rapid intervention by posing them as the needs of the undercity which goes straight over Jayce's head. He tells Jayce they need to focus on new uses for Hextech to help people in the undercity now, it can't wait, they're running out of time, and goddammit Viktor, stop hiding your needs behind altruism, just be selfish, just tell Jayce that you're not talking about the undercity, you're talking about yourself and he would have dropped everything to help you!

Because this is Viktor's biggest flaw: he lies to himself and he lies to Jayce about why he's pursuing science at such a breakneck pace, and I don't even think he knows he's doing it. He's become so accustomed to the idea that he's not allowed to be selfish, not allowed to pose his own desperate desire to live as a priority, that he keeps fucking couching it in the needs of others so Jayce has no way to know just how desperate Viktor really is because Viktor doesn't admit it even to himself.

And this becomes a bigger problem writ large when Viktor creates his cult to "cure" other people because he can't fucking function if he's not posing his self-serving desires as things that also help the group. Babygirl, what is wrong with you?

So now instead of just perfecting himself in very scientifically troubling ways, he feels the need to spread around the cure that he made for himself to others to justify it, even if it doesn't fit them and in fact is horrifying to give the same solution to a bunch of people and fix things they never asked to be fixed.