#surely there are other things you can write

[silvershadow1711]

I've said it before and I'll say it again: authors who do not understand, nor have any desire to learn about oppression STOP USING OPPRESSION AS A BACKDROP FOR YOUR STORIES!! Stop using the experiences of real people as set dressing! Stop pretending that systematic issues like racism and poverty are the result of a few "bad apples"! And for the love of all things good and holy, stop putting the onus for change on the victims of oppression! Stop introducing bigger threats and making the oppressed sacrifice themselves to save the ungrateful lives of their oppressors! Stop making people who are dissatisfied living with a boot on their necks the villians while giving actual fucking facists redemtion that they 100% did not earn!

(And I'm not saying bad people can't be redeemed; I'm talking about specific instances where a character spent the entire story doing horrible things, then did one thing right at the end- not because they saw the error of their ways but because the bigger villian was now threatening them/their loved ones- and the story acts like they were a wonderful person and we should all feel sad for their tragic sacrifice FUCK. OFF.)

I'm not someone who doesn't think real-world problems should be included in fiction because "waaah! I read to forget about real life!" Not even slightly. I love it when stories include the horrors of the real world... when they're treated with understanding. And that goes both ways, because when you make every single person in your setting cartoonishly bigotted and don't show anyone naturally oposing that, that also tells me that you don't have even a baseline understanding of how humanity functions. There have always, and will always, be people who opose and stand up to hate, and saying "well, not in my setting" just tells me you're too lazy to create a multi-faceted setting.

You don't have to include a map of trans-oceanic slave routes in your prologue, but maybe, like... crack open a history book and realize that oppression IS, in fact, built into systems as a feature not a bug to keep rich and powerful people rich and in power and not the result of one person deciding that they hate (insert minority here).

“Be curious about what you’re writing about” is not stock Common Writing Advice but it really, really should be. There are a lot of written works that fail due to the authors just being obviously incurious about what they are writing about.

[starlightkyeom]

all the petty scenes & all the pretty things | hjs

(where your best friend organizes a weekend away for all your single friends on valentine's and you have to deal with his very annoying roommate)

pairing: joshua hong x f!reader genre: (one-sided) enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers (kinda) | smut & fluff rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: 20.5k warnings: mentions of food and alcohol, drinking games, this is vaguely a long valentine's weekend (the holiday is barely mentioned), best friend jeonghan (yes, that's a warning), joshua is a menace, but reader is a bit of an unreliable narrator, so much kissing, multiple sex scenes, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (they talk about it but don't do this), oral sex (f. receiving), some scratching, teasing, briefest edging?, aftercare, nipple/breast play, briefest mention of thigh riding, come eating, idk joshua is just pussy whipped and down horrendous

a/n: another one for the Lonely Hearts Collab organized by the incredibly talented @camandemstudios. please make sure you check out the other amazing fics (like i will be now that i've gotten through both). i'm not really sure what to say about this. something happens when i write joshua and it just...gets away from me. thank you to @tomodachiii, @highvern, and @lovetaroandtaemin for sprinting with me at the end to keep me motivated. and thank you to @100vern for supporting whatever characterization of joshua i wanted.

tag list at the end (join here)

When your best friend, Jeonghan, suggests going away as a group of friends for a Valentine’s trip, you don’t really ask any questions. He says that he wants the trip to be more about friendships than romantic relationships and that sounds great since you’re single at the moment. You don’t hate the holiday or anything. It’s just nice to know that you’ll have something to do that doesn’t revolve around whether or not you’re dating someone. And he says that it’s all going to be planned and all you have to do is show up. Sounds pretty good to you. You give him your budget so that he can find something that works for everyone and pretend you actually had the option on whether you agreed. You don’t have the option, you know, because Jeonghan wasn’t asking. Besides, Jeonghan has been your best friend for years, so you know that it’ll be fun.

It occurs to you when the trip gets closer that Jeonghan is your best friend and you really should know to ask for more details. You know better. Part of that includes just which friends that he’s invited to this trip or if there are any that you’re not also friends with. Generally speaking, Jeonghan has excellent taste in friends. He’s intentional with his time, always has been. It also usually takes him time to get comfortable with newer people. So, when he counts someone as a close friend, you typically know it’s someone that you’re also going to like. It’s why you have nearly identical friend circles. The one exception? His new roommate that you actually cannot stand. 

A few months ago, someone new moved into Jeonghan’s apartment after his old roommate and a close friend of both of yours, Wonwoo, moved out to live with his girlfriend. Enter Joshua. At first appearance, he’s kind, patient, artistic, and funny. Nothing that raises any sort of red flags. All your friends seem to like him immediately and none of them can seem to understand your beef with him. Especially since he never has anything negative to say about you. It makes you feel a little crazy. But, you know that you’re not. You know that this man may be just as petty as you and you know that sometimes he fucks with you just because he can. Never anything malicious. He’s not actually a terrible person. He just seems to delight in the fact that you don’t like him and that your friends give you a hard time over it. Can’t understand your issue when so many of them also love to fuck with you. 

You consider backing out when Jeonghan conveniently lets you know exactly who’s coming a few days before leaving. Up until that point, he was relatively vague. Just the standard group of friends you hang out with. Nobody that creates any sort of problems. He reminds you, when you want to back out, that the deposit is already down on the rental house and the activities are already set. You’re locked into time off from work regardless of going or not. Plus, all the rest of your favorite people (the single ones, at least) will be there so why not just go on the trip anyway? What’s the worst that can happen?

You think you’re going to be revisiting that conversation a lot over the course of the trip.

By the time the trip actually comes around, you’re looking forward to it. So what if Joshua is going to be there? It’s a decent sized group going and the listing for the house you’re staying in is beautiful. There are plenty of places for you to hang out without being on top of someone you don’t like that much. Plus, the shortened week leading up to the trip has crawled by. You need this break. Haven’t really had one since the new year started. Thankfully, you’re able to get done with your work on time and are out the door without giving anyone the chance to add more work onto your plate. 

When you get into your car a few minutes later, after changing into something more comfortable for the ride, you take a deep breath. Half an hour later, you have another of your closest friends, Jennie, in the front seat and the pair of you are off to your getaway. You’re happy that it’s just you and her because at least she hears you out on not liking Joshua. Doesn’t really have any suggestions, but she’s a good ear and an even better partner in crime for the drive up. She has playlists ready, snacks packed, and even a little cooler of drinks. All of that means that you only have to stop once for a bathroom break, to get a little more gas, and to see if you can get something more resembling actual food. The car ride itself is uneventful. 

Once you get to the house? Not so much. Based on the cars already there, you think that you and Jennie might be the last ones to show up. That only feels confirmed when you get into the house and everyone is already spread out and making themselves at home. Jeonghan is quick to come over, a little bit of alcohol on his breath, and welcome you. He lets you know that rooms aren’t decided yet and they wanted to make sure you were there before assigning anything. 

And of course, in typical Jeonghan fashion, he has to make it a game for you to figure out where you’re all going to be sleeping. Everyone gets a quick chance to look through the rooms and see which they might want. Of course, you instantly fall in love with the feel of one room. It shouldn’t matter but the colors feel relaxing, the artwork on the walls is your style, and the beds feel comfy. You give Jennie a look that clearly says you should try to share it. Which shouldn’t be an issue because it’s not even the fanciest room. Once you all look at the rooms, you draw for numbers and Jeonghan explains that you’ll go in order and stand in the room you want. If more people want a room than it fits, then they’ll have to come up with a way to decide who gets it. It’s kind of silly, but everyone seems into it and you just go along. Find yourself getting a little excited when you get to go second, too. 

When it’s your turn, you head straight for the room you want and let out a sigh of relief seeing it’s empty. Jennie has a higher number, so you’ll have to wait to see what happens. It seems like everything is going to go well until Joshua walks into the room with that obnoxious smile on his face. You figure he’ll turn around when he sees you. Instead, he smiles more and plops himself down on the free bed. You are determined not to say anything to him and just wait for Jennie to come along. Only…she never does. Jeonghan calls through the house to say that everyone has picked their rooms and to figure it out if there are too many people in the room.

“You look confused,” he observes and the furrow in your brow deepens. 

“I was expecting…” you start and shake your head.

“Jennie?” he asks and you frown. “I mentioned that I also really wanted this room and she said she would try for a different room since I was before her.”

“Traitor,” you say under your breath. 

“What’s that?” he asks, clearly amused.

“Nothing,” you say. “You could have picked another room, too, you know.” 

“All we have to do here is sleep. The beds in this room are the most comfortable and they’re facing the right way. The decorations are relaxing enough that it'll be easy to fall asleep. I want this room,” he says. 

“But, I’m here,” you say kind of lamely. 

“Not the same problem it is for me that it is for you. You’re welcome to switch with someone else, though,” he says.

“Not a…you hate me,” you say incredulously. 

“No, I don’t. Why would you think that?” Joshua asks and you just blink at him. 

“Because you’re always fucking with me,” you say stupidly. 

Joshua tsks with that infuriating smile still firmly in place. “I promise, sweetheart, I don’t hate you and I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“But…” you start as he gets to his feet. 

“I’m going to get my bags. Do you want me to grab yours as well?” he asks. You try to splutter out a response which only makes him smile more knowingly. 

Once you gather your thoughts, you also get up to get your own bags. He may have thrown you off for a second, but you’re stubborn and you’re not letting him win at this. You’re not really sure what game he’s playing or why he’s messing with you this way. You’re also not sure why Jennie let you fall into this situation without so much as a fight. That’s a conversation for later when you know that you won’t be overheard. For now, you’re going to get settled in the house and have a very large drink. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, after all, and you’re going to need all of your strength. 

Your first night goes much easier than you expect. There are enough people that you don’t have to directly interact with your new roommate for the trip. Then, you’re asleep before Joshua comes to bed. Somehow, he’s already out of bed before you get up. A sure sign that you managed to get peaceful sleep. Another sign that you made the right call with the bedroom. It just feels really relaxing. That peace lasts as long as it takes you to get dressed and head out into the kitchen area for coffee. Joshua looks like he’s holding court as he uses the unnecessarily elaborate coffee machine to fill everyone’s orders. And like every other time, they all look completely happy to have him around. You cannot understand it. This is the man that’s been terrorizing you since moving in with Jeonghan and acting like he’s an innocent little angel. Constantly telling you that he would never be chaotic or a menace. It makes you insane. 

(Terrorizing is an incredibly strong word and the rational part of you knows that. Knows that he’s not some evil demon sent from Hell to fight with you, specifically. Knows he doesn’t fuck with you anymore than someone like Jeonghan does. The irrational part of you has decided that fighting with him is the hill you’re willing to die on. That irrational part doesn’t even consider there could be a reason for him acting the way he does with you.)

“Oh this is so cute!” Jennie says as he hands over her mug with perfect latte art. You didn’t realize this was some fancy coffee house set up. 

Joshua smiles soft, the kind that he never shows you, and pushes his glasses back up his nose. Nobody should be allowed to look that good while wearing pajama pants and a sweatshirt. But, he’s got that just rolled out of bed look that would work if you didn’t hate everything about him. His eyes land on you and his smile changes entirely. You think it looks like he’s up to something. Jennie turns around and catches sight of you.

“Babe! You have to let Shua make you coffee. Look how cute this is!” she squeals and shows off her cup as you walk over to her. 

“Shua?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. 

“Don’t worry, you can still just call me Joshua,” he says like he’s doing you a favor.  

“How about Satan?” you ask under your breath. 

His face lights up with that all-too-common look of mischief and you know he heard you. “You know, I prefer Lucifer, actually.” 

“Why is that?” you ask. “They were the same.” 

“In theory, maybe. But, we talk more about Lucifer being a fallen angel than Satan. Plus, it just sounds better, especially when you add Morningstar onto the end. Just a fallen star,” he says and you roll your eyes. He turns back to the coffee machine. “Coffee?”

“Are you asking me?” you say and look around. Everyone else seems to have coffee already. 

“Who else?” he answers with a question of his own. A challenge implicit in the words

“I can make my own, thanks,” you say. “You might put salt into it instead of sugar.” 

He turns around, a lock of faux outrage on his face. “Wow.”

“Come on. Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?” Jennie asks. It’s just the three of you at the kitchen island. 

“Oh, coming from the traitor,” you say without any real heat to it. 

Jennie shrugs, entirely unashamed. “I’m sharing with Seungcheol. He doesn’t snore and he might’ve had to share the bed with Mingyu otherwise. When Joshua said he wanted your same room, I didn’t feel like fighting when I still might lose.”

You sigh at her and Joshua just watches the exchange with more interest than you expect. “So, where are we on letting me make your coffee?”

“Fine,” you say with another sigh. 

Jennie only chuckles under her breath as she gets up off the stool, coffee in hand. “Enjoy.”

Joshua looks at you with the same annoying smile and asks how you like your coffee. You answer him while saying as little as possible and he’s off to work. It’s a nice break once he turns around. He can’t give you shit while he’s focusing so hard on the drink. For a second, you even forget to watch the ingredients he uses. He’s so peaceful. Thankfully (for you, at least), you shake yourself out of it before he turns back around with your mug. 

“Here,” he says and hands it over with the sly smile he saves for you. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

It’s casual, the way he says it. Like the way you would say it to an acquaintance or even a newer friend. Certainly not the way you expect him to say it to you. Actually, you don’t expect to hear him say it at all. You roll your eyes for the hundredth time. “Thanks, you too.”

His eyes are still on you and it’s unnerving. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

The alarm bells go off in your head. It’s so easy to imagine him fucking with you. It’s not like you could see through his body to know what he was doing while making the coffee. If you say anything now, though, and it’s a normal cup, then you’ll be the one who seems crazy. All that’s left to do is (begrudgingly) take a sip. Which you do. It takes everything in you not to give away that it’s the best cup of coffee in your life. How does he manage to make it taste so good? How does he get perfect portions of everything? 

You must not totally control your face because he smiles again like he can read your mind. Then he prompts the answer he must already know. “So?”

“It’s not bad,” you say noncommittally.

“Not bad?” Seungcheol asks. It’s beyond you how that man manages to sneak up on you. Makes you start a little. He only chuckles at that and puts a hand on your arm to steady you. “Sorry, I thought you heard me.”

“It’s fine,” you say with a smile. After all, you don’t have beef with him. Jeonghan, maybe, and Joshua, definitely, but not Seungcheol. You can’t blame Jennie for saving him from sharing a bed with Mingyu when Mingyu sleeps like a starfish.

“This is the best coffee I’ve ever had. I want to pay him to just make me a cup whenever I need it,” he jokes. 

Joshua shrugs, feigning a humility that you know he doesn’t feel. It’s the version of him that everyone else but you seems to get. It just feels so fake. Doesn’t occur to you that maybe it’s all the real him. That he could be both a chaos demon and a genuinely nice person all at once. Or maybe you’re getting the fake version of him. 

“It’s nothing,” Joshua says, like the compliment makes him shy. “I worked as a barista while I was in school. Got pretty good at it because it meant better tips.” 

“You know, maybe we should talk about you opening a coffee shop. I know some people who might want to invest and you’re wasting away in an office job. You’re much better around people,” Seungcheol says. 

You snort and quickly cover it. Although Seungcheol seems to second guess what he heard, one look at Joshua tells you he knows. His face is even again by the time the other man looks back. Leave it to Seungcheol and his giant heart to want to help someone who may not even deserve it. Before you can say anything else, you excuse yourself from the conversation with a final forced thank you. You don’t want to spend the whole weekend feeling crazy any time someone sees you bickering with Joshua.  With a whole weekend like this, he’s bound to show his true colors. And you’ll be waiting for that moment. No, you don’t think that’s crazy at all. It’s just how it has to be.

The rest of the morning and afternoon pass in kind of a blur. You and Jennie offer to do the big grocery shopping trip to get everything on the communal list. There had been a little bit of food, some drinks, and plenty of coffee. But, you need food for the rest of the weekend, especially with tonight being a meal in the house to avoid the insanity of Valentine’s Day crowds. Shopping the night before just hadn’t been on the agenda either. So, you and Jennie head out to brave any last minute shoppers with a (slightly longer than expected) list of what you think you’ll need the rest of the weekend.

Once you get back, Jeonghan is quick to take over while ushering you off to hang out in the living room. You’re not sure if he unpacks the groceries, or, more realistically, gets someone else to handle it. That’s definitely something nice about having a house full of people. There’s no shortage of helping hands. It’s just nice to get to sit for a minute. The grocery store had been busier than expected. You don’t mind crowds, neither does Jennie. There’s just something about holidays that seems to bring out the worst in those that are out last minute. 

It seems like people have scattered while you were at the store. The weather doesn’t quite feel warm enough to be outside. It is sunny, though, and that seems like enough to pull some of your friends outside to kick a ball around. Definitely not something that appeals to you. Instead, you drift over to join Jun and Jeonghan playing a boardgame. Most of your friends have a rule against playing games with Jeonghan because he’s not above cheating for fun. Or just to win since he can be competitive. That’s never been a rule you bothered with. It’s just as fun for you to see his reactions when you don’t react to his cheating. That can be more fun than the game itself. Besides, you’re pretty good at a lot of the games he plays. It’s a safe option while Joshua is outside. 

Eventually, Jun has to excuse himself from your games. Not really a big loss to Jeonghan since Jun really only joined for the vibes and because running around outside felt like too much work. As the afternoon slips away, he leaves to join Mingyu in the kitchen. The two of them are tackling dinner for the entire group. A fact you’re all happy with since they’re both incredible cooks. You, personally, are less excited when Joshua plops into Jun’s vacated seat, freshly showered after being outside. His hair is still wet as he shakes it out a little and runs a hand through it to get it out of his face. 

“What’s with the glasses today?” Jeonghan asks and Joshua rolls his eyes. 

“I wear glasses a lot. Are you saying that you’re not just always staring at my face?” Joshua retorts. Jeonghan is the only other person Joshua ever messes around with. But, it’s very different than with you. Those two banter. Sass each other back and forth. Joshua genuinely fucks with you. At least, that’s how it feels to you.

Jeonghan narrows his eyes at his roommate and glances over at you for some reason. Even as long as you’ve been friends, you still can’t read the look on your best friend’s face. It looks like he’s putting something together and you have no idea what. Aren’t sure you want to know, honestly. He and Joshua may not have been roommates long, but Jeonghan considers them two peas in a pod. Yet, somehow everyone knows Jeonghan is a demon with a kind heart, while nobody thinks Joshua is anything but sweet. 

“Please tell me you didn’t wear glasses so…” your best friend starts, only to be quickly cut off. 

“I thought we were playing games over here,” Joshua interrupts. Although Jeonghan narrows his eyes, he doesn’t comment further. Weird. 

“I’ll leave the roommates to it,” you say flatly and start to stand up. Jeonghan grabs your arm gently, so you could pull away if you wanted. It’s just to get your attention.

“Come on, you can’t abandon us. The games are more fun with more than two people,” he says. Gives you that angelic smile you still haven’t figured out how to ignore after years of friendship.

“I was going to…” you start and trail off when a good excuse eludes you.

“What?” Jeonghan challenges with that sparkle in his eye. “Help in the kitchen? Watch whatever Jennie is trying to teach Cheol? Let Soonyoung corner you the way he probably cornered Jihoon and Sana to talk about his idea to adopt a tiger?” 

“He’s a menace,” you protest weakly, glancing briefly at Joshua. He’s been watching the exchange with clear interest and this makes him laugh.

“Jeonghan is your best friend!” he says while holding back a laugh. 

“Yeah, but everyone knows he’s a menace,” you start.

“Hey!”

“Oh you are, Hannie, don’t deny it.” 

“Still.” He pouts at you and you know it means he’s not actually upset. He is a menace and the most loyal person you know. It’s fine. 

“You, on the other hand,” you say, turning to Joshua. He gives you a look of polite interest. “You’re a menace and everyone thinks you’re an angel.”

“I am an angel,” he says with a shrug.

“Every day the universe tests my patience,” you say under your breath. 

“Just play with us,” Jeonghan says and you sigh.

“Fine.”

In some ways, it is actually funnier than playing with Jun. Joshua tries to be stealthy as he cheats, but you’re best friends with Jeonghan and you’ve absolutely seen it all. The normal rules go out the window and you all try to see who can be the sneakiest in cheating for an advantage. Your best friend receives a shock with how well you keep pace. Not that it should be surprising. You pick things up with Jeonghan in your life. Despite how much fun you’re having, you stop just short of admitting that. Can’t let Joshua have the satisfaction. 

Eventually, it’s time for everyone to head back to their rooms to get ready for dinner. Even though you’re staying in, everyone wants to get dressed up. Pretend you’re all fancy for no real reason. You let Joshua go back to the room first. He and Sana are relieving Mingyu and Jun so that they can also get ready for dinner. At least you have the confidence neither of them will burn anything. He’s changed by the time you return to the room and sit down on your bed to do your makeup. 

“Trying to impress someone?” he asks, voice low in a way that’s unfamiliar to you. 

It makes you glance up at him sharply, searching to understand the tone. He doesn’t have his standard sly grin on his face and it’s a little disarming. Instead, he’s studying your face. “Sometimes I just like to look nice.” 

Joshua turns to grab his watch and says something under his breath. Something so quiet that you can’t hear it even looking right at him. Can’t read his lips either since you’re looking at his profile. He seems so concentrated and, for once, unguarded. It gives you a moment to take him in when you usually try not to linger on him for more than a moment. He’s wearing a crisp dress shirt with the top few buttons undone. Just the right amount of casual and dressy. Your eyes linger on his necklace that should look a little too fine or thin, yet somehow works on him. It’s an interesting combination. Something you might expect to see on Jeonghan with all his delicate features. Lost in your consideration of the piece of jewelry, you miss the moment Joshua finishes fastening this watch and looks back up.

“Were you staring at me?” he asks and you’re not surprised to hear his usual tone back. Maybe a little cockiness thrown in for good measure.

“Your necklace, actually,” you answer. It comes out much more smooth than you feel after being caught staring at your enemy. 

He chuckles and touches a hand to it. Runs a careful finger along the chain. Then, he smirks at you and you know there’s no good that can come from that. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you borrow it.” 

A million things run through your head at that statement. None of them can come out of your mouth, though. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping Sana in the kitchen so our lovely chefs can get ready?”

“Sure,” he agrees easily and you like that tone even less. It’s like he knows some kind of secret that you’re not in on. It’s unnerving. He turns to the door before giving you a chance to say anything else. “See you at dinner.” 

What the hell was that?

You finish getting ready and head out into the dining area to find Jennie and Soonyoung setting the table. As seems to be usual, he has entirely too much energy for such a simple task. It’s kind of endearing, really. Everything with him around the group feels exciting, even the boring things. Jeonghan is just behind them with little name cards to assign you where to sit. You would roll your eyes if it weren’t so completely him. Though, he seems to have taken at least a partial night off from causing problems on purpose. Your seat is between Jennie and Jihoon, which seems harmless enough. Knowing Ji, he may not even have much to say. 

As something to do, you help bring food to the table. Everything looks amazing. Not that it’s a surprise. If Seungcheol wants to pay Joshua to make him coffee every day, you wish you could pay Mingyu to cook all your meals. Even as the one who went grocery shopping, you aren’t expecting this. There’s an assortment of dishes, both hot and cold, with something seemingly from every food group. And it smells even better than it looks. Everyone loads up their plates and takes their assigned seats. Naturally, Jeonghan sits at the head. And, of course, Joshua is sitting across from you. Not directly across from you, no. Jeonghan has him sitting across from Jennie. It seems deliberate since you’re far more likely to turn to chat with Jennie than Jihoon. But, nothing should ruin your mood or this dinner. Instead, you heap your praise on Mingyu and Jun before digging in. Just kind of follow the conversation as it goes. 

Dinner is just as amazing as you imagined it would be. Even cleaning up after dinner goes quickly. And then it’s to the part of the night Jeonghan seems most excited about: drinking and playing games. Multiple people veto Soonyoung’s request to play strip poker, causing him to pout. So, Seungcheol jumps in with another card game where you can all drink and keep your clothes on. Someone seems to mutter that everyone keeping their clothes on is boring, earning a chuckle. Still, you all settle around a large coffee table and start drinking. Jihoon joins once he gets a playlist going for background music. 

The game lasts longer than you expect before Soonyoung starts to lose interest again. And he doesn’t seem to be alone. He’s giggling along with Jun and Sana, the lightest of the lightweights in the group when it comes to drinking. None of them are really paying attention to their turns, but how can you be mad? They’re all so cute. So happy.

“Oh I know!” Soonyoung says, volume several settings too loud.

“Inside voice, Soonie,” Sana giggles.

“We should play truth or dare,” he says. It’s still a bit too loud, but at least your ears don’t hurt.

“Soonyoung, we’re adults,” Jihoon says, only a slight flush to his cheeks showing he’s been drinking.

“Which makes it even more fun,” Jun chimes in. 

Jihoon looks around for support. Looks for someone else to object. Most people only shrug. You all know that Soonyoung is going to get what he wants. He’s got a cute pout and he never asks for anything that would actually make someone uncomfortable. Why not play a silly game while drinking with friends on a getaway to forget none of you are in relationships at the moment? What could possibly go wrong?

The first few rounds, as always, are pretty mild. Nobody wants to be the first one to cross the line into something a little raunchier. Then the drinks keep flowing and people seem to get a little looser. Soonyoung gives Sana a lap dance that has the entire group on the edge of their seats. Jihoon has to admit that he wrote half a dozen songs about a crush on Sana when he first got started (which earns him a kiss on the cheek from the woman in question). Mingyu has to share a sexual fantasy. Sana has to suck on someone’s fingers (and picks Jihoon, which makes his cheeks flush). Around and around it goes with the only constant being that neither option is safer. It all depends on who’s asking and who they’re asking. The majority of what comes out is known to at least part of the group since most of you have been friends for years. It’s also all in good fun while the drinks flow. 

“Joshua, truth or dare?” Jeonghan says and his roommate seems delighted.

“Dare, obviously,” he says without a second thought.

You roll your eyes and take a drink while you watch Jeonghan pretend to consider. It’s an act, one you know well. He knows what he’s going to say and it comes out a second later. “I dare you to whisper in someone’s ear til they blush.”

“Something dirty?” Joshua asks. 

Jeonghan just shrugs. “Up to you about whatever you think will work best.”

Joshua casts his eyes around the group like he’s actually considering. You figure he’ll probably pick someone whose cheeks are already a bit flushed from drinking. Make it easier on himself. That’s what Jeonghan would do, at least. It’s only when you realize that he’s moving towards you that you get a little nervous. Jennie offers you a smile before getting up so that he can sit next to you. You really need to get better friends. It should be fine, though, because you don’t blush that easily. Definitely not because of someone you don’t even like. 

Your other friends seem to move a little further away, too. Maybe so they can see better or maybe so they don’t hear what he says. This is a test of wills and it’s one you intend to win as you give him the most neutral look. Unfortunately, he surprises you right from the start by gently taking hold of your chin and turning your face away from him. His fingers are just as gentle when they push your hair away from your ear. It’s the way you treat someone you actually like, not someone you constantly terrorize. The warmth from his breath tickles you as he leans into your ear. 

“You think you have me fooled. Want me to think that you can’t stand me,” he begins and you’re already fighting off a shiver. His voice is low, as smooth as honey and just as sweet. He keeps a hand around the back of your head and one in front of his own face to create the illusion of privacy. Even though nobody else could hear him with his voice so low. 

“I know, though. I know there’s a very fine line between hate and…desire. I saw the way you looked at my necklace earlier. Tracked the way you watched my fingers slide along the smooth chain. Were you imagining what else my fingers could do? Maybe you want to imagine them sliding across your lips. I’d do it if all our friends weren’t watching. Or maybe you were thinking about having my fingers ghost over your neck. Applying feather light pressure.” 

It’s getting harder for you to keep your cool. There’s a slideshow of the least sexy images that you can conjure playing in your mind. You cannot lose this to Joshua, of all people. Anyone else, fine. Just not him.

“Hmm. Or maybe it’s my mouth that gets you going. That mouth that’s always terrorizing you. Always seems to have something to say. Do you want to know what it feels like pressed into your skin? Do you want to imagine me dipping my head down from your ear? Can you imagine me sucking a mark into the soft skin of your neck and then soothing you by running my tongue over the spot? I will keep kissing down your skin. Finding every spot that makes you moan. I bet you make the sweetest sounds…”

“BESTIE!” Jeonghan says, nearly shrieking with delight. “Oh my god, I cannot believe he got you!”

Joshua pulls away with the worst grin you’ve ever seen and you just huff out in annoyance. Cross your arms and firmly look anywhere but Joshua. It’s all you can do to try and calm down the rapid beating of your heart. You shake your head and then glare at your best friend.

“What was he saying?” Mingyu asks, feeding too much into bullshit. 

“That’s between us,” Joshua says as he gets up to return to his original seat. 

“Cannot believe he managed to make our strongest soldier blush like that,” Sana says through a giggle. 

“Is she?” Joshua asks Sana, seeming genuinely intrigued. Sana raises her eyebrows in question. “Our strongest soldier?”

“Yeah, nothing gets her, usually,” Mingyu says and you cast a look at him for betraying you.

“It was like he was reading some smutty book to me. I wasn’t even thinking about it being him,” you say with a pout.

“Sure, sure,” Jeonghan says dismissively and turns to his roommate. “Your turn.” 

Part of you expects him to turn it right back on you given the look on his face. He surprises you, though, and turns over to Sana. You space out on whatever the truth or dare is. Kind of can’t think about anything other than the things Joshua whispered into your ear. You know he didn’t mean any of it. There’s no world where Joshua wants to do any of those things with you. And no world where you want him too, either, you remind yourself. It just kills you that he won this round. You refocus just in time to hear Sana direct the next question to you.

“Truth or dare?” she asks 

Sana is trustworthy. Not someone out to get you, so it’s easy to answer. “Dare.”

“Kiss the most attractive person…” she starts, only to get an elbow to the side from Soonyoung. “Sorry, I want you to kiss the most attractive guy on the lips for at least 5 seconds. Jennie and I are off the table.” 

“What would it take to get you on the table?” Seungcheol jokes and somehow keeps it from sounding sleazy. 

You roll your eyes and look around the group. All of your friends are pretty, which makes something like this hard. Easy to overthink, too. That’s when it hits you. Quickly rising, you make it seem like you’re heading towards Joshua. His face shows surprise for the briefest moment. At the last second, you curve towards Mingyu. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He chuckles, catching onto your game immediately. “Not like it’s the first time.” 

You lean in and press a kiss to his lips. It’s nothing that deep, but you do make sure it lasts longer than five seconds. When you pull away, Joshua seems to be watching intently. Even follows you back to your seat. 

“Hey, now why does Mingyu get to be the most attractive?” Soonyoung protests with a pout.

“Maybe because he’s a literal model?” Jennie says with a laugh. 

“Details,” Soonyoung says dismissively. 

During the exchange you look back at Joshua and tune out the bickering. You find his eyes already on you, an unreadable look on his face. “Truth or dare?”

Joshua’s eyes widen. “Me?” 

“Mhm,” you hum in agreement.

His eyes narrow, just for a second. “Truth.” 

“What’s your most embarrassing sex story?” 

The question seems to catch him further off guard and you’re not sure what he expected you to ask. Maybe he thought you would ask about why he’s always terrorizing you. This is infinitely better, though. The way he answers will tell you a lot about him. 

He actually launches into a legitimate story. Apparently, he had been dating someone and wanted to spice things up a little in the relationship. So, he let himself into her apartment to set up a little dinner for them and then stripped down to a sexy waiter outfit. Just cuffs, a collar, and the tiniest underwear known to man. The only problem was that she didn’t know that he was setting up the surprise and showed up back at her place with her parents, who he had not even met yet. He was never able to recover from it and they broke up. It’s not technically a sex story, but you let him have it because it’s definitely embarrassing. 

The game carries on once again. The truths and dares get bolder until someone reels it back in with something a little tamer and the cycle resets. You think you might be in the clear, even though your mind still lingers in places you wish it wouldn’t. If your friends can tell you’re zoning out, they don’t call you on it. You’re actually surprised the game has gone on this long with everyone drinking and being silly. It’s kind of nice too, though, to get to take a break from real world responsibilities. There’s a lightness to the whole night that makes you warm. At least, that’s what you’re deciding has you feeling the way you are.

“Okay, last one and then we’re moving onto a drinking game,” Seungcheol says. 

“Bossy,” Jennie comments and earns a smattering of chuckles. 

“You up for it?” Seungcheol asks Joshua.

“Sure, dare,” he says without missing a beat. 

“No more of this whispering in her ear to make her blush, I want to see an actual kiss,” Seungcheol says and looks right at you.

“Excuse me?” you ask. He’s the last person you imagine engaging in whatever this is that the rest of your friends are up to.

“I could cut the tension with a knife and I just wanna see if it’s one sided,” he says, unapologetic. 

“Didn’t take you as the type who liked to watch,” Jeonghan says, shit-eating grin taking over his face.

“Oh, I’m into all sorts of things, but we can talk about that later,” Seungcheol says with a wink at Jeonghan. You forget, sometimes, that he can be just as insufferable as your best friend. He turns back to you. “You can back out, though.”

Joshua is watching you for your reaction and his face is unreadable. It’s impossible to tell if he actually wants to do this or if he’s just going along with the game. You know that he won’t follow through if you say no, though. Maybe it’s the drinks coursing through you, but it doesn’t feel like the worst thing in the world. The buzz in your veins is pleasant and you know you’re still totally in control. 

“Well?” Joshua presses when you don’t say anything.

You try to seem unaffected again by rolling your eyes. Can tell by the looks you get that it doesn’t really work. So, you huff out a short reply. “Fine.” 

For the second time tonight, Joshua rises from his seat and crosses to you. Jennie doesn’t even get a chance to move this time because he reaches a hand to you and pulls you to your feet. It’s gentle again, just like he was when he whispered filth into your ear. Almost cautiously, he puts one hand on your waist, sliding it along so it’s on your back as he pulls you into him. His other hand rests on your cheek and then he kisses you. Not just a peck like you’re expecting. His lips are impossibly soft and it takes everything in you not to sink further into it. To fight the way your body wants to respond to his touch. The next second, he pulls back. When you meet his eyes, it’s the first time you can remember seeing him look like that. Soft, unguarded, curious. The mask slips back into place when he steps away.

“Satisfied?” Joshua asks Seungcheol.

“Oh, definitely.” 

Nobody says anything about the kiss as you move into whatever drinking game Seungcheol picks to play next. There are plenty of looks that both you and Joshua miss, though. It’s almost like seeing the version of Joshua that all your friends talk about. The one who could be kind and thoughtful. Funny and supportive. All the sides you’re very convinced are reserved for anyone but you. It makes your head spin in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol in your system. It fills you with questions, too. Why did he kiss you like that? It’s the kind of first kiss everyone wants. One that’s full of promises and meaning. One that sets the tone for everything going forward. 

It’s going to spiral you back into annoyance again if you’re not careful. It’s all just a game to him, right? Just another way to mess with you and get you to think about wanting him. Another way to show that he’s somehow in control of this whole dynamic. That’s a win you can’t give him. So, you dial yourself back into the present and into the game. Make sure to act like everything is fine. And it is. You’re definitely not thinking about the things Joshua whispered in your ear now that you know exactly what his lips feel like on yours. 

The next morning comes brighter than you’re expecting. Then, you realize it’s not that early after all. A side effect of staying up into the early hours of the morning having the best night with your friends. Your head feels a little fuzzy from drinking. Could be a lot worse. Thankfully, you drank a ton of water and took a couple painkillers to hedge your bets, so you wake up without a hangover. Sometimes, past-you really does look out for future-you.

In the other bed, Joshua shifts. You freeze, not entirely ready to deal with him before even wiping the sleep from your eyes. Instead, he just rolls over and his breathing stays even. It’s that steady rhythm of someone sleeping soundly. He looks younger, somehow, while he’s sleeping. Or maybe it’s just that he’s completely relaxed. No time for scheming or terrorizing you. There’s an innocence that almost makes you forget the war between you and him. Almost. 

After you brush your teeth and wash your face, you decide to see if anyone else in the house is awake. The whole house is quiet, though. Not surprising. You always seem to be the first one awake after a night drinking and this is supposed to be a vacation. There’s no point in waking anyone up when you don’t have plans until later. So, you decide to grab your book, an oversized hoodie that you stole from one of your friends, and one of the blankets from the living room before heading outside. There’s a chill in the air, though not it’s not as bad as the previous day. There’s also heating units on the patio that you can turn on before settling down. 

It’s the perfect cozy morning. The heaters and the blanket keep you just warm enough without it being uncomfortable. The world around you is calm, peaceful in a way it never could be in a city. A breeze gently rustles through the trees. Birds call out to each other. There aren’t any of those sounds that people contribute. You get lost in the fictional world and the vivid imagery, completely unaware of anything going on around you. 

At least until a voice interrupts your thoughts. A voice that’s quickly becoming too recognizable. 

“I brought you coffee,” he says and holds out a steaming mug. 

Without consciously making the decision, you move your legs on the couch, allowing him to sit down on the other end. He has his own mug that he blows gently across before taking a sip. Your eyes study his profile for a moment before taking a sip of your own.

“Thank you,” you say without the normal bite. 

“I made it the same as yesterday, hope that’s okay,” he says. He’s still facing forward and you can’t really place why. Or why it bothers you that he’s not looking over at you when you’re not even friends. 

You sigh. “You make incredible coffee. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

The side of his mouth that you can see quirks into a smile. Probably a smug one, knowing him. Then he does actually turn to face you and, of course, his eyes sparkle. “Still nice to hear.” 

“Yes, Joshua, you are the coffee god,” you say with heavy sarcasm.

You set the coffee down on the table long enough so that you can mark the place in your book with the receipt you’re using as a bookmark and set it aside. Somehow, this seems to interest him, even though it seems like the most mundane thing. Instead of trying to figure out what’s going on in his head, you just pick your coffee back up and resume drinking in peace. A peace that only lasts a moment.

“You can tell a lot about someone by how they handle their books,” he says. 

That gets your attention even though you know it’s meant to bait you into a conversation. “Is that so?” 

“Probably not,” he says with a light laugh. “But, I like that you don’t dog-ear your pages…”

“A crime.” 

“And I use receipts as bookmarks, too. Sometimes, from when I buy the books if they don’t just email it to me or otherwise, just one I have lying around. I can’t ever seem to remember an actual bookmark, but who doesn’t have receipts lying around?”

“That’s true,” you concede. Joshua takes another sip of his coffee and shivers a little, even though he’s also got a sweatshirt one. One of Jeonghan’s, you think, because you know you’ve seen him in it. “Here.” 

“What?” he asks and turns to you. You’re pushing the edge of the blanket towards him with your foot. It’s plenty big enough to share.

“You brought me coffee. I’m not going to let you shiver,” you say and he smiles at you. One of the real ones that you’re not used to. 

“Thanks,” he says and pulls it toward his lap. 

“I’m surprised you’re not inside making everyone else coffee, too.” 

“Nobody else is awake yet. Or, I didn’t see anyone. I thought I heard voices, could’ve been a TV in one of the rooms. But it seemed so peaceful out here and I figured…”

“You’d come bug me?” 

The look he gives you is a little exasperated. Something new on his face. Joshua reaches into the pouch of his sweatshirt and pulls out a book. It’s a title and an author you don’t recognize. You wonder what you might be able to learn from his reading habits. 

“I thought I might read, too,” he says instead and glances at your book. “You know, not what I pictured you reading.” 

Several responses war in your head, all wanting to come out. You look over at the book to buy yourself a minute to see which answer wins out. “I like fantasy. It’s nice to escape into a world that isn’t real.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he says, seemingly pleased that you’re not being snarky. 

“So, why not this, then?” you ask. It hits you that maybe he pays more attention to you than you realize. Maybe that’s why he’s so good at getting under your skin. A thought occurs to you. “If you say you think I’d prefer sparkly vampires, I will end you.”

That makes him laugh, loud and clear. Like he’s not concerned about coming off a certain way. It’s a nice sound, you think. “No, that’s not what I was thinking. I was thinking more fantasy mixed with some kind of dystopia. Not something set in the Middle East.” 

“I do like that, too,” you admit grudgingly. “Have you read this one? It was out on a fantasy table at the bookstore and it just sounded interesting.”

“Not yet, maybe you’ll let me borrow it,” he says with that smirk that reminds you just what a pain he can be.

“We’re definitely not at book sharing,” you deadpan, falling right into the trap without realizing.

“So we can swap spit but you won’t share a book with me?” 

“Ew.” 

“I know the kiss wasn’t so bad that you’re saying ew about it.” 

You pull your legs closer into yourself and wrap your hands more tightly around the mug for both warmth and comfort. Regard him for a moment and decide how you want to go forward. There’s something about the setting that makes it feel like the two of you are in your own little bubble. Like you can say things you wouldn’t with your other friends around. Even though you know that you can see the patio from inside, it feels more private. Less on display than you and Joshua were the night before during the game. Somewhere along the chat, Joshua has also turned to face you and crossed his legs in front of him.

“I don’t understand you,” you admit after a moment. 

“I didn’t think I was complicated,” he says. 

“You hate me…”

“I’ve already told you I don’t.” 

“But you picked me to make blush even though there were better options and then kissed me without hesitation.” Joshua opens his mouth, a smart retort on his lips, you’re sure. So you’re quick to cut him off. “And don’t say it was just a dare. I didn’t kiss Mingyu that way and I got to pick whoever I wanted.” 

That makes him snap his mouth shut briefly. He takes a slow sip of coffee, seemingly to buy himself a moment to reconsider what to say. It’s hell on you, though, because seeing his lips on the mug reminds you of the way his lips felt against yours last night. 

“I don’t hate you,” he repeats to start. “I was maybe a little envious, at the beginning, of your relationship with Jeonghan and the rest of that friend group. I’ve always made friends easily, but this felt different. I know we all joke about it, but Jeonghan and I must have been friends in another life. And I saw how everyone also loved you and joked around with you, but you weren’t like that with me. So it felt a little like I was still on the outside of this group I loved.” 

“Who all love you, too, for the record,” you say with a sigh.

“You don’t, though,” he presses.

“Because you terrorize me!” you say without any real heat. 

“So does Jeonghan,” he points out. 

“He gets best friend privileges,” you say. “And he doesn’t fuck with me like you do.” 

“I watched him eat your ice cream out of the freezer and try to convince you that it wasn’t ever yours. And that he had no idea what happened to yours,” he deadpans and you immediately close your mouth, forgetting what you wanted to say.

“I…okay, yeah, he does fuck with me,” you concede.

“I figured if you already didn’t like me, I might as well have a little fun,” he says with a shrug. You can see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though. 

“And irritating me, then pretending you haven’t done anything is fun to you?” 

“Yeah, actually.”

You huff out in annoyance. “At least you admit that I’m not crazy.” 

“Now, that’s not all my doing.” 

You’re about to snap back at him when you catch sight of the look on his face. He’s just needling you again. Like he has been since moving in with your best friend. So, you switch tactics, hoping to catch him off guard. “Still doesn’t explain the dares last night.”

Joshua gives you a look that’s almost a little sympathetic. Like there’s something right in front of you that you can’t really figure out. It instantly makes you want to wipe it off him. “Like I said, I like to annoy you. You’re even hotter when you’re annoyed.”

“Excuse…” you start.

The door opens behind you and Jennie pokes her head out. “Brunch is ready, lovebirds.”

“We’re not…” you try to start again.

Joshua is too quick, though. Giving you that obnoxious smirk and slowly moving the blanket off his lap. “Thanks for sharing your blanket with me, sweetheart.”

With that, he’s up and heading inside before your brain can even catch up. God, he’s so fucking infuriating that it’s going to make you crazy. But, as you’re gathering your things to head inside for brunch, and ignoring Jennie’s pointed look, you consider that maybe you did just get to know a lot more about Joshua than you realized. 

After brunch, everyone gets ready to head out to the action park. This had been a Soonyoung and Jun suggestion, but everyone seems pretty interested. Since they’re the only ones who have been to one before, you’re not entirely sure what to expect just from the website. In person, it’s actually really cool. They have go karts, bumper cars, indoor mini golf, rock climbing and ropes courses, small ziplines, laser tag, and even more things that you can’t really put a name to. There’s definitely something for everyone and it lets you split off to go do whatever seems the most interesting. 

You’re barely in the door before Soonyoung and Jun are running off giggling. Jeonghan peels off to go karts. He’s not a great driver, but he’s as competitive as they come and it’s definitely something he can try to win at. A little surprising, especially with mini golf being right there, but whatever floats his boat. You try to drag Mingyu along with you to the zip line, figuring it’s not that high and maybe it’ll help him work on his fear of heights. You’re a little surprised that you get him to agree eventually. More surprised still that he actually seems to enjoy it. From the top of the zipline, you see that Jun and Soonyoung are playing some teenagers in laser tag, giggling in a way that has you concerned for the teenagers. Those two are devious with games like that. 

It’s the perfect kind of relaxing afternoon that’s also engaging. You try out as many things as you can and just get lost in the fun of it all. Don’t really think about Joshua or your earlier conversation. Definitely don’t feel any kind of way when the person securing his harness lingers a little longer than necessary, seemingly flirting with him. It’s too far away to tell if he’s flirting back. Not that you should care, either way. The distraction lets Jeonghan ram into the side of your bumper car and forces you back into your mission of chasing after your best friend. 

Several hours later, your whole group is ready to leave. It’s been a lot of fun, but nobody wants to get completely worn out. Especially when you have dinner reservations at a nice restaurant and then plans for an escape room after that. So, you pile back into your cars and head back to the house to get ready again. Joshua lets you have the bathroom to get ready because you want to take a quick shower without washing your hair. He’s not going out of his way to fuck with you and it’s a bit disarming. Still, it’s better than before, right? 

Dinner is even better than expected, but you’re careful not to praise it too much. Can’t have Mingyu pouting over thinking the professional chef does a better job than him (even though it is literally the chef’s job). Nobody drinks too much, either. Except it’s not because you drank the night before. No. Jeonghan, like the true chaos demon that he is, tells you at dinner that it’s actually two escape rooms because it’s too easy with 10 people and you’ll be splitting into two groups. So, it’s kind of like a competition to see who finishes first. That sharpens everyone’s attention. Well, after Soonyoung makes a joke about finishing first, of course. You can tell that people are looking around and wondering who the best teammates are going to be or how you’re going to split up.

Somehow, your friends let you and Jeonghan be on the same team, which feels like an unfair advantage when the two of you do these a lot. It’s been a tradition of yours for years, even now when they’re not as popular anymore. It’s a little surprising that Joshua doesn’t press about also being paired up with you. It seems like the perfect chance to give you a hard time and you know he wants to win. He just heads to the other group without a word, though. It hits you while you’re getting ready to start your room that he also left you alone during the entirety of dinner. Weird. But, then the timer starts and nothing else matters. 

Soonyoung whines the whole way back to the house about how unfair it was to have to go against you and Jeonghan. It’s good natured, though. He admits that he still had fun even if his team only made it out with a few minutes to spare. Your team had over 10 minutes to spare, by comparison, so it hadn’t exactly been a close fight. The bickering picks back up again when you get out of your cars and Soonyoung can argue with Jeonghan again. It’s incredibly endearing to watch them that way. Fills your heart with warmth. This really is the perfect weekend away with friends. 

“Oh, I brought my karaoke machine!” Soonyoung says as everyone is dispersing into the house.

“Soonyoung…” you start, exasperated.

“I’m in!” Jun squeals and Soonyoung is off to retrieve it without another comment.

“I’ll start mixing up some drinks,” Sana says with an affectionate sigh. 

“I’ll help,” Jennie agrees. 

Even though nobody else shows any enthusiasm, you all get sucked into the mess with the promise of drinks. Soonyoung actually doesn’t have a bad voice at all when he’s not trying to be as ridiculous as possible. It’s nice, though, because this isn’t the kind of thing you can’t do at home when you share walls with other people. Or not the kind of thing you should do. Soonyoung, in particular, does not need any more noise complaints. 

Jeonghan takes the seat next to you and it’s comforting to have him there, even if it’s not exactly a quiet moment. The two of you go over some of the more difficult clues from the escape room and wonder if you could have gotten through the other room just as fast. Figure you probably could because the difficulty levels were the same. The two of you are nothing if not confident in your abilities. Somewhere during the conversation, Joshua plops down on Jeonghan’s other side and shares what it had been like in their room. More chaotic than yours, by the sounds of it. 

“Hey, I didn’t ask,” Jeonghan says suddenly, turning to Joshua. “I saw you were getting some extra attention from that worker putting your harness on for the rock climbing wall.”

“Ah, it was nothing,” Joshua says dismissively. 

“It didn’t seem like nothing,” Jeonghan presses, ever the pest.

Joshua gives him a look that seems to convey a silent conversation. It’s strange to see when you’re so used to doing that with Jeonghan yourself. “She was just asking about our plans and if we needed any suggestions or wanted a guide to anything.”

“So, she was hitting on you,” Jeonghan concludes, smug for a reason you don’t understand.

“Maybe,” Joshua says with a shrug. “I told her it was a friends trip and that we were set.”

“Not interested?” Jeonghan presses.

“No,” Joshua says without explaining. 

“Can’t imagine why,” Jeonghan says like he knows a secret. You recognize the tone well. What you don’t recognize is what the secret is. 

“I’m gonna go get a refill,” Joshua says and stands up abruptly.

“What was that?” you ask, watching Joshua as he retreats into the kitchen.

Jeonghan only shrugs like he doesn’t know what’s going on. You might believe it on anyone else, but you know better with him. “I think I’m going to go see if Soonyoung wants to do a duet.”

With that nonanswer, Jeonghan also stands and heads over to see what Soonyoung has for song options in the app he’s using to connect to the machine. Something about the whole interaction feels off. And though you still don’t know if you even like Joshua, you get up to follow him into the empty kitchen. At least, you’re going to continue telling yourself you’re not sure if you like him. 

“Are you okay?” you ask and he turns at your voice.

“Fine, why?” he asks. It’s not how he normally interacts with you.

“I don’t know, you just seem off,” you say. “Jeonghan can be a shit sometimes, but…”

“But, you’ll give him a pass and not me,” Joshua finishes and it pulls you up short. “Sorry, I…”

“No, you’re right,” you agree and that does surprise him. 

“Are you okay?” he asks and starts to slip back into his more normal self. “Admitting, I’m right? I should check your temperature. Or should I call my family? Is the world ending?”

“You’re impossible,” you grumble. You turn away from him to refill your own drink.

You can feel his presence rather than hear it over the sounds from the living room. Know he moves to stand right behind you. “And you missed me messing with you today, admit it.”

His voice is low again and entirely too close to your ear. You hate the way you have to fight your reaction to him. Hate the way he flips a switch and sends you spiraling like this. You can’t admit that it felt weird to not have him messing with you. Won’t admit that you fell right into his trap with him being short. It even occurs to you that Jeonghan might have helped set the whole thing up. After all, who knows you better than your best friend?

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you say. 

“If you ask me to stop messing with you, then I will,” he says, still standing just behind you with his mouth near your ear. “If you tell me that you genuinely can’t stand it after last night and after we talked this morning, then I promise I’ll leave you alone.”  

“And if I don’t ask you to stop?” you ask, so quietly that you’re not sure he’ll hear you over the din. He does, though. His soft chuckle is confirmation of that before he steps away.

“Then, I’ll be very happy to keep seeing more sides of you,” he says.

By the time you actually turn around, he’s retreating back into the living room. You almost could convince yourself that you imagined the whole thing. Then, he looks over his shoulder and winks at you. It’s infuriating. He’s infuriating. He’s also confusing. This weird dynamic between you has definitely shifted and you realize it’s up to you to set the new boundaries. But, if it’s up to you to set the boundaries, then why does it feel like he’s still pulling all the strings?

You’re kind of in a daze while you try to process what’s actually going on. Outwardly, you keep sipping on your drinks and laugh along when Soonyoung does something particularly ridiculous in the name of karaoke. It seems, to most of your friends, at least, that you’re fully present. You refuse Jeonghan’s request to sing with him, like you always do. It’s just for fun, but he’s actually got an angelic singing voice when he wants to put effort in and you’re more of a sing in the shower type. It’s just friends, sure. You’re still not going to sing.

Inwardly, you’re in a constant battle. Going over all your interactions with Joshua and trying to figure out exactly what’s going on. It seems insane that he could flirt with you when he’s such a menace. Yet, your brain can’t really consider it anything else. Maybe you can write off last night as part of the game. Today, though, seeing more honesty out of him hadn’t been part of a game. And in the kitchen definitely wasn’t part of a game. You can also understand what he meant this morning. The rational part of your brain knows that it’s entirely fair to think he could mess around with you like the rest of your friends do. It’s even easy to see slipping into that despite not being close yet because he felt so immediately close to everyone else in the friend group. If you cut him some slack with that, then you can even start to see why your friends all like him as much as they do. He’s easygoing and also mischievous. Just the right combination for the friend group. 

And, okay, maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but you can also admit that he’s insanely attractive. The sharpness of his jaw contrasts the soft way his hair frames his face. He laughs along with something Seungcheol says and it’s an oddly comforting sound. Makes his whole face light up. You catch yourself glancing over at him entirely too much only to find him looking back at you most times. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem that many of your other friends notice. Really, just Jeonghan, if the look he gives you means anything. 

There’s a thin between hate and love. At least that’s what you hear. Maybe you never actually hated Joshua and you certainly don’t love him now. But, you have to admit, if only to yourself, that you’re curious about him. More curious than you want to be. And it’s driving you more than a little crazy. The worst part is that he doesn’t even seem affected. Sure, he throws a lot of glances in your direction and teases you along with your friends. But, it’s just…normal behavior. Nothing that suggests that he’s having an internal argument the way you are. 

Eventually, when it’s into the early hours of the morning again, the group starts to wind down. Soonyoung has long since abandoned his singing career in favor of queueing endless videos on YouTube on the TV. Jun is playfully arguing with Jennie about something nobody else seems to understand. Sana is drifting off where she sits, prompting Mingyu to gently wake her up and help her off to her bedroom. It’s the perfect chance for you to announce to the room at-large that you’re going to bed. You miss the look that passes between Jeonghan and Joshua at your announcement. 

You get as far as a quick facial cleanse to remove any makeup before you hear the door to the bedroom open and close. It makes you poke your head through the door, though you know it could only be one person. 

“You dipped pretty quickly without actually saying goodnight,” he says and you pull your head back into the bathroom so that you can dry it off.

“And that’s an issue?” you ask when you step out into the bedroom. 

“An observation,” he corrects. 

“It seemed like the night was winding down, so I figured that I might as well turn in,” you say.

“Is that all?” he asks and takes a few steps towards you. 

“What else would it be?” you ask, drifting a little closer yourself without even realizing.

“I don’t know,” he says, but the look he gives you says otherwise. It feels like he pierces right through you with it. 

“Venture a guess,” you suggest, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“You might have been signalling me to follow you,” he suggests and you hate the way your stomach does a little flip. 

You hide it behind a scoff and turn your head. “We’re sharing a room, Joshua. It’s not like you wouldn’t end up here eventually.” 

“Have you thought about what I said in the kitchen?” he asks, changing his approach.

You lick your lips to buy yourself a minute. Don’t miss the way his eyes flick down to watch the movement of your tongue. There are a million different thoughts fighting to the front of your brain. There’s only one way to really know, though. You close the space between you and he doesn’t make a move.

“I need to see something,” you say quietly into the space between you. 

“Okay,” he agrees without even knowing what you’re asking. 

There’s no time to second guess yourself or you might lose your nerve. With your hands on his face, you pull him down to your lips and kiss him. For real, this time. Without an audience or a game or anything else. His body is tense for a second before he winds his own arms around your lower back to pull you against him. He’s confident and calm, letting you find the answer to whatever question you’re asking. You’re not even sure who deepens the kiss as your tongue tangles with his. You arch your back, pressing tighter against his chest and he lets his body follow yours. Let your hands slide from his face so your arms are around his neck. His hands slide down to land on your ass. The lightest squeeze makes you moan softly into his mouth. 

It’s him that breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours as he catches his breath. Doesn’t move his hands from your body, though. The chemistry with him is electric, like nothing you can remember experiencing before. With a kiss like that, it’s going to be very hard to act like your body doesn’t want him. 

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” he asks, still breathing a little harder than normal. 

Of course he’s concerned about that because he really is just as nice as all of your friends say. “Enough that my guard is down. Not so much that it stops me from knowing what I want.” 

“And what do you want,” he asks. The low tone of his voice is going to drive you insane, actually.

“You,” you say simply.

“Don’t toy with me,” he warns you. 

That makes you pull away so that you can look at him. “I’m not. I don’t have any answers for you, I just know I can’t ignore whatever this is that’s drawing me to you.” 

“Then don’t,” he says and pulls you back into him. 

The kiss is demanding. The kind of kiss that sets your entire body on fire. Even more consuming than the first kiss where you just wanted to see what would happen. You have no idea what any of this is going to mean and you’re not even sure you care. It’s a problem for later when your head isn’t clouded with nothing but thoughts of his man that drives you insane. A conversation to have in the light of day, maybe. 

His hands are everywhere on you and you’re not sure how you haven’t appreciated them more before this moment. They squeeze at your ass in a way that makes you press into him. They run up your sides and make you shudder. Tease across your breasts even though you’re fully clothed. It shouldn’t turn you on so easily. Shouldn’t have you making so many soft moans that he catches. It’s better than you could have imagined from the way he whispered in your ear the night before. And he hasn’t even moved on to kissing down your body. Not yet, at least. Without warning, he breaks the kiss again and you’re a little embarrassed at the way you follow his lips. Joshua doesn’t say a word as he disappears into the bathroom and returns with a couple of towels. Rolls them up and presses them against the crack in the door. Thankfully, your room is separate from the others. Still, you don’t want any of your friends hearing whatever is about to happen. At least this should muffle it a bit. 

“Are you still sure?” he asks when he finishes with the towels.

“Yes,” you say.

“Because if we keep going, I don’t think I can stop. Not now that I’m getting a taste of you,” he says and you shudder. 

“I don’t want you to stop,” you say. 

Any hesitation disappears when you utter that simple sentence. He turns you around so that your back is to his chest and brushes your hair to the side. This time, he’s not just whispering in your ear. He's running his tongue along the shell of it. Kissing behind your ear while his hands grip your hips. You wiggle your ass against him experimentally and appreciate the way he moans into the kiss. He continues on to the pulse point of your neck, sucking in just enough so that it won’t leave a mark. The way he takes his time is going to be your undoing. When he starts pressing you forward to one of the beds, you don’t even fight him. 

Before you can collapse onto the bed, he turns you around again and kisses you hard on the lips. Lets himself get lost in you again. Uses one of his hands to hook your leg up around his hip and deepens the kiss even further. You cling to him for balance and trust that he won’t let anything happen to you. It’s insane the way everything can change in a moment. The way your entire view of him changes when you stop fighting over nothing. Then he grinds into you and your thoughts go blank. He’s not even hard yet and you can only imagine what he’s going to feel like when he is. It’s too much. Enough to make you pull away so that you can start stripping out of your clothing. Joshua watches you for a moment, pupils totally blown, before doing the same. 

Your breath catches at the sight of him. You already know he’s beautiful, but this is something else. He’s all lean lines without it being too much muscle. Deceptively in shape for someone that never shows off his body. You would have had no idea, especially with the way your other friends show off their own bodies. It makes you self conscious for a second until you see the look in his eyes. The way he drinks in every inch of you like he can’t believe this is happening. Like he’s the lucky one in this situation. And he’s the one to close the space between you. To reach out and put his hands on your bare skin, resting them on your waist to pull you closer. When he kisses you again, it’s strangely soft, at complete odds with being naked against him. When his kisses trail down your neck, you have to try to stifle a moan. Remind yourself that you’re still in a house full of your friends. 

Joshua backs you up against one of the beds as he kisses down your body. He stops every time he finds a spot on your body that’s a little more sensitive. Gives you a little more attention there. You swear it feels like he’s smiling against your skin when he pulls noises out of you. That smile that’s so familiar to you that you don’t seem to mind so much anymore. Not now when his lips feel so good on you. Gently, he presses you back so that you collapse onto the bed. You’re about to move back when he catches you. Leans over you to kiss you breathless again. But, he’s pulling away too soon and crouching down so he’s between your legs. It pulls you up short because surely he’s not…

“Can I taste you?” he asks, low and a little desperate. He pushes your knees open gently, experimentally. 

“You don’t have…” you start and he chuckles. It’s insane that he can pin you in place with a look.

“I know that I don’t have to, but I really fucking want to,” he says. 

“Okay, but this angle…” you start again, feeling a little too exposed. 

“Is perfect,” he finishes without hesitation. “You’re stunning and all I need for you to do is say yes. Let me show you just how well my mouth works.” 

“Fuck,” you whisper out, losing any remaining nerves or self consciousness. “Yes.”

“Thank god,” he whispers like a prayer. 

You expect him to dive right between your legs. Of course he doesn’t, though. He kisses up the inside of one thigh. Lets his breath ghost across your wet core as he moves to kiss down the inside of your other thigh. You cannot let this man get you begging. Not so soon. Not like this. But, you don’t have to. The look he gives you before putting his mouth where you need it the most is sinful. Full of lust and desire and designed to ruin you. Not that he needs to know that. Gently, he places a kiss against your center. Looks up at you from under his lashes and you’re struggling. Thankfully, he doesn’t keep you waiting. He licks a stripe up your center. Must feel how wet he’s already gotten you. It seems to be driving him crazy, too. He licks deep into you, eating your pussy like a man starved. A loud moan escapes you before you clamp a hand over your mouth and knit your other hand in the sheets. Joshua adjusts so that your legs are over his shoulders and he can tilt you back. His tongue hits you at a new angle and you think you might lose it. He pulls back just for a moment to flick his tongue across your clit and suck it into his mouth. The look he gives you says he knows exactly what he’s doing. Knows that he’s going to push you over the edge entirely too soon. 

It’s the best you can ever remember feeling with a man between your legs like this. He definitely knows what he’s doing. And you’re in such a haze that you can’t hold back. Can’t stop the praise that falls quietly from your lips. Can’t stop yourself from telling him just how pretty he looks. How much you love the sight of him there. How good his mouth feels. All of it seems to spur him on more. When his mouth returns to your pussy, you really do think you’re going to be done for. You can’t believe that it feels this good without him even using his fingers. But, that coil forms low in  your tummy and you know it’s only going to be a minute. 

And then he does the worst thing imaginable. Pulls his mouth from you just as you’re about to cum. The look you give him is pure betrayal. For a horrible moment, you wonder if this has all been some kind of trap. Until he smirks at you and rises to lean over you again. Joshua puts one large hand behind your head and kisses you hard. Desperate. You can taste yourself on his lips and his tongue. Can feel how turned on he is by the way his dick hits your skin and he groans into your mouth. It’s kind of satisfying to know that you have him this worked up just from eating you out. 

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper against his lips between kisses. 

He groans. “I don’t think I have a condom.” 

You pull back and look at him. “I’m covered and I’m clean. So as long as you are, too…” 

It’s kind of cute to watch the way he blinks, clearly trying to make sure he heard you right. “I’m not sure…”

“You don’t want to?” you ask and he must see something in your expression because he softens. 

“Believe me when I say I want you more than fucking anything in the world,” he says. It doesn’t escape you that he says he wants you. Not that he wants to like you said. 

“It’s okay. If you say that I can trust you, then I will,” you assure him. He’s so unguarded that it actually makes your heart skip a beat. 

“You can trust me,” he says softly. 

There’s entirely too much emotion for you to process behind those four words. So, you pull him back into you to kiss him. Hope he feels what you’re not going to say. Not now. He seems to understand, though, because he kisses you back just as fiercely. Using his free hand, he lines himself up at your entrance. His tip teases your folds and you moan. It would be entirely too loud if Joshua hadn’t caught it in the kiss. Maybe he does know what he’s doing. He’s definitely the one protecting both of you from being overheard by your friends. Friends that you’re not even sure had gone to their rooms before this all started. You quickly cast that thought from your head.

Joshua presses in and out of you slowly. Takes his time because he doesn’t have a condom (or any lube) to make the slide easier. The pace drives you crazy, though; You hook your legs around his hips and he braces himself with one hand on the bed. The other grips your hip to anchor you. You run your hands all over him as he continues to gently ease into you. Note the way he gasps into your mouth when you tangle a hand in his hair. Smile against his lips at the way he reacts to your nails on his scalp. Think it may be the death of you when you run your nails down his back and his hips stutter. You do it again and he nearly growls. Actually breaks the kiss to look at you. 

You’re just about to ask if it’s too much when you register the look on his face. His voice is low, warning. “You’re going to be the death of me if you keep that up and I’m not even inside you.”

“Then maybe you should hurry up,” you say back, almost challenging. 

This is a game you can’t win. Not when he looks like that. Joshua moves his hand from the bed to your hip so he’s only gripping you. You get one look at his face and know you’re fucked before he snaps his hips, bottoming out in you. Lets you moan for a split second before he catches your lips again. 

“What was that?” he asks against your lips. 

You’re totally fucked. Absolutely done. The way he fills you feels perfect. It’s just the right stretch and you know he’s going to hit exactly where you need him to. Your brain goes totally blank. You forget that this is the same man who’s been a demon. Forget that you’re not going to beg him for anything. It all goes out the window.

“Please, I need you to move,” you say and try to wriggle against him. 

He chuckles a little. Presses feather light kisses to each side of your mouth and then along your jaw without moving inside you. Moves one of his hands from your hip to gently brush hair off your face. Then, he’s smiling that confident smile. “Well, since you said please…”

With his hand on the bed next to you again, he starts actually thrusting into you. You tighten your legs around him so they’re not dangling off the bed. You let your hands roam his body, exploring every inch of him. Try to map what he reacts the most to through the haze of the tension that’s building up within you again. Joshua alternates between kissing you and whispering praise into your skin. He’s so free with it. There’s nothing cocky about it, either. Not now, at least. His pace is steady, alternating between shallow thrusts and deep ones that make you shudder. He makes a small adjustment to the angle and it takes everything in you not to scream out. You clap one hand over your mouth with the loss of his lips on yours. Your other hand knots in the sheets and you throw your head back. Joshua picks up his pace. Can tell that you’re close. He must be too because he presses a thumb into your clit. Rubs quick circles over it and that’s too much for you. The coil snaps and you’re coming hard around his dick. He keeps fucking you through it and releases just after you, somehow managing to keep his thrusts relatively even through his own orgasm. 

He leans over you and kisses you again, messy and needy. You respond even though you can’t catch your breath. Drunk on the thought of him, but feeling entirely sober now despite drinking earlier in the night. Your chest rises and falls in time with his when he pulls back and just gazes at you. He’s still inside you and you’re sure it’s not comfortable to be arched over you next to the bed. But, he doesn’t seem to care. The gaze is so soft and you have to turn your head, just for a second. Joshua, instead, gently turns you back to him and brushes some of the sweaty hairs away from your forehead. Runs his hand down your body and gently helps you disentangle your legs around him. They feel a little stiff from how tightly you held on. Then, he slowly pulls himself out. Watches where you’re sure a little cum leaks free. It makes you wonder if he’s thinking he wants more like you do. Except, you know that you can’t really risk it again tonight. 

“Let me go grab a towel,” he says and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

All you can do is nod and flop back against the bed. Your whole body feels relaxed. Satisfied in a way that you haven’t been in a while. Unconsciously, you trail your fingers over your lips and along the parts of your body where you can still feel his touch. His presence lingers on you like a blanket. Comforting and warm. You don’t even realize you’re smiling. 

“If you keep doing that with a smile, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from diving between your legs again,” he says.

You roll your head to the side to look at him. Push yourself into a sitting position so that you can watch him walk back over to you. He really is one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen in your life. “I think we’ve probably pushed it enough for tonight.”

That makes both of you chuckle. “Probably. Though, I might not care if it meant you kept making those noises.” 

Without your permission, your cheeks flush and you look away from him. This time, he lets you have the moment. Instead, he goes to work wiping the sweat clear from your body. There’s shouldn’t be that much care in the gesture, but there is. Joshua Hong is good at a lot of things, apparently, including aftercare. You watch fondly as he gently wipes between your legs to make sure nothing dries there. 

“I know there’s…a lot to talk about you,” you start as Joshua steps away. He turns back to you, looking a little guarded again for the first time. It hurts your heart. “Joshua, I promise I’m not saying we’re not going to talk. I just wanted to know if we could get ready for bed and talk in the morning?” 

“Oh,” he says, relaxing again. Smiles at you in a way that you’re not sure you can handle. It makes you want to tell him to be gentle with you. “Yeah, of course. It’s been a long day.” 

“Thank you,” you say.

In a second, he’s back over in front of you to help you up. You roll your eyes and swat at him for a second, but do let him help you. You stretch your body out, arms over your head,  and miss the way Joshua stops to watch you as you roll your neck. Then, you do catch him looking at you and he plays it off by offering you one of his baggy shirts to sleep in. Considering it for half a second, you accept and grab a pair of the boy shorts you like to sleep in. The ones you haven’t worn yet because you weren’t expecting to be sharing with him. The two of you stand together and do your nighttime skincare routines. He stands behind you, wrapping an arm gently around your stomach as he brushes his teeth. It doesn’t feel clingy like it would in another situation. Just very soft, which is going to be an issue for tomorrow-you to handle. Your heart seems to be rushing way ahead of your head.

Joshua disappears for just a moment, after checking the door, to grab waters for both of them. He returns without any issue. Neither of you says anything about it when you both get into the same bed together. It just goes unsaid as you let him pull you against him. Both of you relishing in the comfort of the other as you fall into an easy, dreamless sleep. Nope. definitely not going to be any issues here. 

It takes a moment for your brain to clear the next morning. Not because you don’t remember the night before. Your brain is just in that hazy half-asleep, half-awake state when you register the arm around you. As you’re waking up, you glance over at Joshua’s face. Peaceful, again, like you noticed yesterday morning. Completely unguarded while he sleeps. 

Except, he also looks entirely different to you now. Sometimes things look different in the light of day. Sometimes, a new day dawns and you wonder just why you made a decision. That’s not the case for you. Not this time. Your body warms at the thought of him. It doesn’t make you want to pull away like other times, either. Even though you know that the path forward might be complicated at first. Or it might involve a lot of teasing. None of that seems to turn you away from this man that has so many more layers than you realized. 

As you’re looking over at him without really seeing him (because you’re zoning out in your thoughts), you realize his breathing changes. He’s awake now, but still looking very groggy. He pulls you into him, letting your legs tangle together, and kisses you gently. You can’t even fight the way you melt into him. The kiss is slow, languid. Not desperate like the night before. In any other situation, you hate kissing first thing in the morning. You’re not going to stop to think what that means this time. 

Joshua pulls away and smiles at you. “If I keep kissing you, I’m never going to be able to get up and our friends will definitely know something’s up.” 

“Fine,” you sigh. 

“Guess you don’t hate me anymore,” he teases, running a finger along your arm and watching the goosebumps spring up. 

“I don’t think I ever hated you,” you say and earn a look from him.

“You don’t think?” he questions and you break first, smiling. 

“You can never be totally sure,” you say. 

“Maybe we’ll have to test it again,” he says to play along.

“Guess so,” you agree easily. 

“So,” he starts and moves to sit up. You mirror him and cross your legs. “You mentioned needing to talk…”

“Yeah,” you agree and take a deep breath. “I’m not really sure what’s happening here or if it was just, like, a one-time thing to get some tension out…”

“It wasn’t for me,” he says, interrupting you. Takes a steadying breath like he needs to prepare for the next bit. “Was it for you?” 

It’s vulnerable, honest. You can’t ignore that he’s being brave. That he’s putting himself out there without knowing where you stand. This is the thoughtful Joshua you’ve heard so much about. The one that makes friends as easily as breathing. Just as he looks away, you gently reach out to take his hand. “No, it wasn’t for me, either.” 

“Don’t do that to me,” he breathes out as the tension disappears from his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry,” you say with a smile and can tell he forgives you immediately. “This has caught me a little off-guard.”

“Me too,” he agrees and the considers. “Not in the same way, though, I don’t think.”

“I’m confused,” you admit. 

He takes a breath like he’s bracing himself again. You’re not sure for what, though. You’ve already been honest. “I already knew I had a crush on you.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

“I’ve had a crush on you basically since moving in with Jeonghan and I’d basically given up before this trip. I didn’t think you’d ever consider me. Now it seems like maybe it wasn’t just one sided,” he says. 

“Maybe not,” you concede. 

“I think Jeonghan might have known. He definitely teased me about it even though I never told him. He’s too observant,” Joshua says with an eye roll. 

“It’s just…” you start and frown. “I want to figure things out with you and there’s a lot of questions to answer, so I’m not sure that I’m ready to…”

“Let our friends in on it?” he asks with a soft chuckle. You nod, thankful he doesn’t seem mad about that. 

“Yeah,” you agree, unsure of what else to say. 

“I can agree to that,” he says with a mischievous smile. “When we’re out there with our friends, I’ll keep teasing you like I always do.” 

“Great,” you interrupt with an eye roll. 

“But, when we’re in here,” he continues, the heat from the night before returning to his gaze, “I’m not going to act like I don’t know what you taste like. Or what you sound like when I fuck you.”

“You can’t say shit like that,” you squeak out and cover your face.

Joshua gently pulls your hands from your face. He kisses you softly. “Sorry, it’s out of my system. For now.” 

You swat at him and he quickly jumps off the bed. Maybe it’s not him you need to worry about giving you away. He’s got the easier job, after all. Normal for Joshua and you, in the eyes of your friends, just means he’s teasing you. Feeding into your distaste for him. But, how do you act annoyed by him after last night? 

Pretending everything is normal proves to be just as difficult as you expect. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like anyone heard you the night before. The house is big and several of your friends need to sleep with some kind of background noise on. Plus, everyone had been drinking, even if nobody (other than Soonyoung or possibly Jun) had been drunk. That’s at least one hurdle that makes your day easier. Joshua carries on acting like he always has with you and you try to give your normal responses. Try not to let on that anything has shifted between the two of you. Rationally, you know that whatever is forming between the two of you is a good thing. Know that your friends would be happy for you (after teasing you relentlessly). That’s not what holds you back. It’s that you and Joshua need the chance to figure out whatever it is by yourselves. Without having to answer questions from your friends that you can’t answer yet. 

The schedule during the day is relatively busy. There’s a scenic train ride that includes an amazing brunch buffet. Some of the sights through the windows take your breath away. Everything seems quiet, untouched. You and Jennie sit together and just watch the world go by, commenting on the beauty or else catching up on life. Everything about it is relaxing and just what the group needs. Even the train ride itself is smooth, a feat you’re not sure how they accomplish. It’s easy to see why it’s such a highly rated thing to do in the area. And, since Joshua isn’t sitting right next to you, it’s not so hard to pretend like everything is normal. Well, except for one comment that he makes that causes you to blush a little and earns you a skeptical look from Jennie. She’s not as observant as Jeonghan, though, so you think you manage it fine. 

After the train ride, you all walk around in town to explore the little shops. Soonyoung and Jun take off giggling and chasing each other, for no apparent reason. Just for the vibes, probably. You mostly focus on window shopping unless something catches your eye. It’s just nice to be out in the fresh air. There’s also something about the shops that make you feel like you stepped back in time, a little. It’s not a bad feeling. It just adds to the sense of calm you feel. 

One shop draws you in because it’s local, handmade jewelry. That’s definitely a favorite for you because it feels unique. Special. Some of the pieces you get from big chains can feel impersonal. The handmade pieces feel like they tell a story. They feel more perfect for any of their imperfects. Sana, Jeonghan, and Joshua follow you into the store, dispersing to look at different pieces. 

“What do you think of these?” a soft voice asks from your side, making you jump a little. 

“Why do you keep doing that?” you ask, heart racing, as you turn to Joshua. 

“It’s fun to see you jump,” he says with a shrug. That glint is back in his eyes. 

“I’m not sure that’s your color,” Jeonghan chimes in, nodding at the necklace. Where did he come from? 

“Maybe it’s not for me,” he says with an easy shrug, looking at the necklace again. 

“Ooooh,” Jeonghan teases. He turns to you. “Lucky person, don’t you think?” 

You level Jeonghan with a glare, surprising yourself how easy it is, at least for that moment, to pretend. “I’m not sure about lucky since it’s Joshua. He does have good taste, though.” 

“That’s probably as close to a compliment as you’ll get from her,” Jeonghan says and elbows his roommate. 

“Nobody can resist me forever,” he says and throws you a wink that has Jeonghan laughing as they head in another direction.

Once again, you really want to ask him to be gentle with you. How are you meant to act like everything is fine? How come he’s trying to make this even harder on you? Then, you remember him asking your opinion on the necklace and realize he’s struggling, too. It makes you feel lighter knowing that he wants to buy you something from this store that drew you in all while you haven’t even figured out what’s happening. He did say that you could trust him. And you want to. A scary thought, to be sure.

The next stop on the agenda is a late afternoon murder mystery show. There’s audience participation and it’s something several of your friends have been talking about all weekend. The audience participation part may not be the most appealing to you, but it does sound interesting. At least, until Joshua makes sure to sit right next to you during the show. And lets the actors comment on what a cute couple you make without correcting them. He actively encourages them, instead, and it makes your friends howl with laughter. It’s painfully on brand for how he interacts with you, but it makes your brain short circuit a bit. Makes you stumble over a response before you gather your composure again. It’s par for the course for Joshua, but definitely not for you. You carefully avoid the questioning look from Jeonghan. You don’t trust yourself in the moment. If anyone could read you and figure it all out, it’s definitely Jeonghan. When things settle down, you do glare over at Joshua, though.

By the time you make it back to the house, having decided to get a bunch of take out and make your own feast, you’re just happy the day is over. Spending time with your friends is great. Pretending you didn’t fuck Joshua the night before, not so much. Despite agreeing not to tell your friends yet, he’s making it as hard as possible. Each time he needles you a little, it’s like he’s trying to figure out more about you. Trying to figure out your reactions to file them away for some later use. At this rate, Jeonghan, as your best friend and Joshua’s roommate, is going to figure it out. Especially if he’s already figured out Joshua had a crush. Yet, Joshua doesn’t seem concerned. Well, two can play at that game. 

Mingyu and Jun head into the kitchen to set up the spread of food, even though there’s no cooking involved. You, along with several other friends, excuse yourself to change into more comfortable clothes to hang out in. When you return in yoga pants and a slightly cropped sweatshirt, you revel in the way Joshua does a double take. Feel immense satisfaction at the way he drinks you in before looking away. He disappears, probably to change and buy himself a minute, and you smile to yourself. By the time he returns, you already have a plate and he doesn’t take the open seat next to you. His eyes bore into you, though, and you know that he knows it’s your way to push back at him a little. 

After you all finish eating, you notice Joshua in the kitchen and get up under the pretense of needing something to drink. He hears you coming and looks around to see that all the rest of your friends are still in the living room area and talking.

“What happened to pretending nothing happened?” he asks softly.  “I could ask you the same.” 

“I’m only teasing you like normal.”

“And I’m only putting on comfortable clothing, same as anyone else.” 

The look he gives you says he doesn’t believe a word of that. “You’re gonna give me a semi in that outfit with the way you keep moving around. God, I sound so pathetic.”

“No, you don’t,” you say, but your eyes sparkle. “Guess I shouldn’t say that I’m not wearing a bra or any underwear.”

“You…what?” Joshua gapes at you.

Instead of answering, you just grab your drink and head back to join your friends. You don’t have to turn around to know that his eyes are on you. The point definitely goes to you for this round. And maybe it sends at least a little message because Joshua tones it down a little the rest of the night. 

Compared to the other nights, this one is pretty tame. You all know that you have to head back home the next day, even if you don’t have to get an early start. Some people have a drink or two, but it’s just casual. You agree on something to watch and all settle in. Soonyoung struggles with sitting still for that long, and Mingyu pouts that nobody will cuddle with him in the oversized chair. He can’t understand why you don’t give in when he can convince you any other time. But, otherwise it’s just nice. Easy. The perfect kind of ending to a wonderful weekend away with friends. 

Slowly, people start excusing themselves to go to their rooms and nerves hit you again. You’re going to be alone with Joshua and you’re not really sure what to expect. Don’t even want to make eye contact with him because you don’t trust yourself to keep it together. So, you just stretch your arms out and say goodnight to the room. Figure you can leave it to Joshua to decide when he follows you to the room. 

It takes longer than you expect. Longer than it did the night before, by far. You turn some music on, just loud enough that it may cover anything that happens. But, it’s at least twenty minutes before the door opens. Long enough that you consider just going to sleep. Long enough to think that maybe the moment in the kitchen had been a step too far. 

You rise off your bed when he closes the door behind him and take a few steps over to him, preparing to say something. He doesn’t give you the chance. He closes the space between you and catches your lips in the most bruising kiss yet. Groans when you gasp into his mouth. He backs you into the wall and presses himself hard against you. There’s no space for you to move. He presses your legs apart so that he can slide one of his own legs between them. One hand rests behind your head, cradling it so you don’t hit the wall. The other hand runs up your side and under your sweatshirt. Rough and a little possessive. A very different side to him and it’s turning you on more than it should be. 

Joshua pulls away from you just enough so he can run his hand across your breast, confirming what you said about not having a bra on. He groans again, jerks his hips against yours almost involuntarily. He breaks the kiss and you gasp for air.

“I can’t believe you really came out without a bra just to tease me,” he whines out. A little desperation slipping into his voice. 

“I can’t believe you waited so long to come to our room that I considering going to sleep,” you retort, a little bratty now that you realize he’s not mad.

“I couldn’t come right away because it would have been obvious,” he explains. “Then, I started to think about you not wearing a bra or underwear. And the way I would have you clenching that pretty pussy around my dick again and it took a second to calm down.” 

“Who says I’m gonna let you fuck me again?” you challenge. 

“Don’t play with me,” he whines, some of the confidence disappearing. 

“I won’t,” you say, suddenly serious. 

You kiss him again to say the things you’re not sure how to. He gets the message, though. Your lips chase his when he pulls away entirely too quickly. But, he ducks his head and pushes your sweatshirt up without taking it off completely. Runs his tongue over your nipple and drags it between his teeth. It makes you arch into his mouth. It’s kind of hot, actually, the way he can’t wait to have his mouth on you. He switches to your other breast and is sure to give your body all of his attention. In response, you drag your core along his thigh that’s between your leg. Searching for any kind of friction. 

In any other situation, you might be embarrassed by how quickly your body reacts. Joshua erases that, though. You’re not even sure how. Despite all the time you’ve both spent terrorizing the other, it’s insanely easy to trust him. Easy to feel confident when he reacts to you just as strongly. Easy to just let things happen when he’s so willing to be desperate for you. No games, no bullshit, just making sure you’re both feeling good. 

The friction just isn’t enough anymore and you need more. Don’t want to keep riding his thigh while he laves over your breasts. You pull his face up to kiss him again and let your sweatshirt fall. His pupils are blown and somehow the confused look he gives you is cute. You’re not sure how he does it. A thought for another time, anyway. You pull him over to that reading nook you were so excited about and haven’t used. Push your yoga pants down your legs and kick them aside. Bend over and look over your shoulder at him. The lust is clear on his face.

“I just need you inside me,” you say and watch his eyes get wider with surprise. “Please.”

“God, I love hearing that from you,” he admits. “Think I’d agree to anything if you asked me like that.” 

“Simp,” you tease.

“Absolutely,” he agrees without any teasing. 

You don’t have a chance to react to the honesty in the statement before he’s pushing his own sweatpants down and kicking them aside. Casts his shirt aside even though he doesn’t need to. He presses your lower back so you’re bent at the right angle and you arch your back. Impatiently, he pushes your legs a little farther apart. The next second, he’s gathering your wetness and pressing a single finger into your pussy. Trying to at least prepare you a little. In no time at all, he inserts a second finger and pumps quickly into you. You reach for one of the pillows to bury your face into it so that you can moan little more freely. Joshua bends over your back and presses kisses into your skin. 

“Please,” you say again, pulling your face from the pillow. “I don’t wanna cum on your fingers.”

“Fuck,” he mutters and pulls his fingers out. 

It’s a moment before you feel him again. You bury your head back into the pillow when he presses his head against your entrance. You wiggle and encourage him to press harder. Any self control he might have disappears and he snaps hard. Soon, the sounds of skin on skin mingles with the music and your muffled moans. Joshua moves your leg so one knee is on the bench and he can get a better angle to fuck you. His hands wander your body. Digging into your hips hard enough that you imagine you’ll have fingerprints there. Flicking a thumb across your nipple. Finally working down to your clit and rubbing in time with his thrusts.

Entirely too quickly, your body shudders as the orgasm rips through you right as Joshua finds his own release. Your legs feel like jelly and you’re not sure if you can keep standing, even as you’re trying to come down. But Joshua, surprising you again, carefully pulls out and drags you over to one of the beds with him. You collapse, sliding further up to make room for him and pulling the sweatshirt off, finally. Except he doesn’t settle next to you. No, he settles between your legs, pressing them open. 

“Joshua, what…” you start to ask, breathless still. 

What becomes obvious immediately. He licks into your cunt, gathering your cum that mixes with his own. If you thought he was a man starved the night before, it’s nothing compared to tonight. He’s not taking his time with you, either. Not giving you a chance to recover. You’re so sensitive, but the way his tongue laps at you feels amazing. You knot a hand in his hair and he groans, sending a vibration through your pussy. This time, when he moves his mouth to your clit, he slides a finger inside you. Quickly adds another. You can’t believe the way your body responds to him. Can’t believe how good it feels even though you’re so incredibly sensitive. You bite down on your own fist to stop yourself from screaming out the way you want to. The end of this trip can’t come soon enough. You absolutely cannot wait to have him in your own space where you don’t have to worry about friends overhearing. 

The second orgasm hits you so hard it whites out your vision. Has you coating Joshua’s fingers and mouth. He guides you through your high as all the tension leaves your body. You feel like you’re nothing more than a puddle on the bed when you feel him settle next to you. After giving you a minute to catch your breath, he pushes himself up to hover over you. Gives you what should be a gentle kiss until you wrap your arms around him and pull him down on top of you. Even though he offsets some of his weight, there’s still a pleasant heaviness having him on top of you. It’s so comfortable that you could kiss him for hours without getting sick of it.. 

After a long moment, he pulls back to look at you. That tender look back on his face. “I hope that was okay.”

“You know I’m not complaining,” you say earnestly.

“I was wondering if I could make you squirt,” he teases and he’s all confidence again. You swat at his arm and pretend you’re going to wriggle away.

“I take it back,” you joke.

“No, you don’t,” he says, confident without being cocky.

And then he’s kissing you again. You’re back to tangling yourself up with him. Just letting things happen without overthinking anything. There’s something wonderful about this side of Joshua that just makes your mind go blank. Not even in a fucked stupid kind of way. It’s more like it just feels right. You feel safe and cared for in those moments. You also both feel a little insatiable. Simultaneously wanting to kiss for hours and unable to stop yourself from it turning heavier. 

Joshua pulls back from the kiss and flops dramatically onto the bed next to you. You roll over and pro yourself up on an elbow to look at him. His eyes find yours, affectionate and also very clearly turned on. “If you don’t stop this, I’m going to want to be inside you again.” 

“Me?” you ask, pretending to be shocked. 

“Yes, you,” he says and leans forward to kiss your nose. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say and flutter your eyelashes.

“I bet you don’t,” he says quietly, unable to stop the light laugh. Then, takes a breath and sits up. Swings his legs out of the bed and reaches back to you. “Come on. Let’s clean up and go to sleep. We’re heading home tomorrow and it’ll be a lot easier to figure this out without so many nosy friends.”

You pout but accept his help, anyway. He’s right. Even if you can’t really get enough of him, you’re already going to be a little sore from this and you have an endless amount of time to figure things out. As you fall asleep that night, tangled up in him, you feel confident. This isn’t something confined to the little bubble of a vacation. He’ll tell you exactly how he feels and what he wants once you’re back home. Help you be brave enough to be just as honest. It’s definitely going to be enough.

The next morning is a flurry of activity. Everyone seems to have left packing for the morning, even though there shouldn’t be much to do since it’s only been a few days. People mumble greetings to each other around bites of breakfast as you all clean up. Somehow, things seem to have spread out much more than expected and you want to make sure everything is in good shape before leaving. Not that you let it get genuinely messy. It’s just that there’s 10 of you and you don’t want any sort of extra cleaning fee slapped onto Mingyu’s credit card. You’re still thankful he volunteered to take the charge (though, obviously, you all split the cost). 

It also becomes clear that even though the check out time isn’t early, you should have set an alarm. Add in the fact that you’re very much sore thanks to Joshua, and it’s an interesting morning. Neither of you is trying to keep up any sort of facade around the other because the focus is making sure you’re ready to leave. It keeps you from even worrying if anyone notices something different. Then again, if things go the way you expect, all your friends will find out that something is going on soon enough. It’s just a matter of timing. A thought that puts you in an incredibly good mood. You don’t even notice that you’re humming while cleaning until Soonyoung starts singing along to the tune. 

Worrying about anyone finding out becomes a moot point when you’re all getting ready to leave. At least, in part. Really, you should know better than to try to get anything by Jeonghan. After years of friendship, he easily knows you at least as well as you know yourself, probably better. And he knows something is up. You’re not sure if he knows the specifics. Don’t really want to think about if he somehow heard you and Joshua the night before. 

Jennie seems to know something is up, too. You’re not sure whether she figured it out or if Jeonghan told her. Probably the latter, if you’re honest. She’s generally a little easier to fool that Jeonghan. As he’s prone to telling you, you can’t bullshit a bullshitter, and nobody does bullshit better than him. He loves sniffing out a scheme almost as much as he loves coming up withit himself. It confirms your suspicions when you see him and Jennie whispering together then looking over at you. He doesn’t leave you waiting for his response either.

“Jennie’s coming back with me,” Jeonghan announces. “She offered to drive my car, and how can I say no?” 

“And I’m supposed to head home alone?” you ask skeptically. 

“Of course not!” Jeonghan says, pretending to be offended. 

“We just thought you and Joshua could use the drive to work out whatever your issues are,” she chimes in, sharing a look. 

“It’s like you don’t want them to make it back in one piece,” Mingyu jokes, but doesn’t otherwise comment. You can’t tell if he knows anything.

“Even I’m not going to leave you stranded in your time of need,” Joshua says, immediately falling into the plan. You can’t read the look on his face and you wonder if he already knew, too. Probably, knowing Jeonghan. He’s a demon, but he’s not cruel. He’s not going to put you in a situation you genuinely don’t want to be in without checking. 

The rest of your friends laugh and continue to load up the car. You just shake your head at your best friend as he approaches you. He turns over his shoulder to call to Jennie. “I’ll be there in a sec!”

“What are you up to?” you ask in nearly a whisper.

“The better question, bestie, is what you’re up to,” he says, eyes sparkling. You open your mouth to protest and he holds up his hand. “You’re not as slick as you think you are. Did you forget we’ve been friends for a decade?”

“No, you’d never let me forget,” you joke and Jeonghan rolls his eyes. 

“I told him that I didn’t expect him back tonight. But, please know, if I’m right, then I will be teasing you both without mercy,” he says and it’s your turn to laugh.

“There’s my best friend,” you say with a smile still in your eyes. 

He’s serious for a moment. This is the side of Jeonghan that he reserves for only those closest to him. You wait patiently because you know whatever he has to say is important. “You seem happier than I’ve seen you in a long time. Don’t be afraid of that. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Hannie,” you say softly. 

“Even if you did totally ignore the point of a single friends Valentine’s getaway,” he says, returning to his normal self as Joshua approaches. 

“Goodbye,” you say and push him away. 

His eyes fall on Joshua. “Take good care of her. You’re a great friend already, but she’s family.” 

“I will,” Joshua promises and plucks the car keys out of your hand. 

“Hey!” you protest and hear Jeonghan laughing as he walks away. “That’s my car.”

“And I’m an excellent driver,” he says before dropping his voice lower. “Come on and be my passenger princess.”

He really is going to have to stop making your brain short circuit like that. It’s diabolical. But, then again, that’s exactly who he is. Not like you expect him to change now. With one last look at the beautiful house, you get into the passenger door that Joshua holds open for you. You’re very thankful that you gave the weekend a chance. Even more thankful that you gave the man next to you in the driver’s seat a chance. He reaches a hand over to squeeze your thigh and you know it’s going to work out just fine. 

if you made it through that insanity, thank you and tell me what you thought 💕

tag list: @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @amoryeonjun, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @sunflowergyeomie, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @naajaeminsgf, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @honglynights, @pyeonghongrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tinkerbell460, @aidanjoon, @cookiearmy, @kaepjjangiya, @lostmembrane, @thestraybunny

[quitefawnish]

just thinking about reader having an nsft tumblr acct and tf 141 being obsessed with it..

cw: sexual content, slight voyeurism?

soap is the first one to stumble on your tumblr account. he originally got tumblr because he wanted inspiration for meal planning and thought about making his own fitness blog.

of course, he eventually went down the rabbit hole of hornyposting and after a few weeks, he discovered you.

you had started this blog to feel better about yourself, or at least that’s what you told yourself, maybe you just liked the attention. either way, you started off slow, posting in a sheer shirt or just a bra but not wanting to show off too much.

it only took a bit of prodding and pleading from your followers to get you to post your whole body. that’s where johnny first saw you, in a post where you did a full body reveal (sans face for obvious reasons). it had a few thousand notes and was the top picture for some of the tags you used.

soap practically felt his eyes bulge out of his skull at the sight of you, this perfect lass posting pics like that for free??? he was quick to follow you and then look at the rest of your posts, spamming you with likes as he went through your entire blog.

he contemplated keeping you to himself but knew the others would appreciate you just as much as he did, so he saved the original post he saw of you and sent it in the group chat. their messages were immediate, something to the effect of “holy fuck.”

that’s where the obsession with you started, and soap acted as their drug dealer, sharing in the group chat when you posted a new photo. of course, the other three knew that they could coax your username from johnny and they could make their own tumblr account to follow you but they found it more exciting getting your pics this way. one thing he did share with them was your throne wishlist which was full of lingerie and cute clothes you might want.

you had posted in sets you had gotten from other followers and the guys were interested in how they could buy you things too. your eyebrows practically disappeared into your hairline as you checked your phone and saw that your entire wishlist had been bought out. even the stuff that you put on there as a faraway desire, like the pair of mary jane’s you had been eyeing or the marker set that was too expensive to justify buying with your own money.

you always tried to thank people who bought from your throne personally, dming them on tumblr and sending exclusive pics in the things they bought for you. problem was, it was all under anonymous accounts and you didn’t get any messages owning up to the shopping spree. you decided to make a post asking who just bought you all that stuff and that you’d like to thank them.

soap was quick to message you, claiming responsibility for the gifts bought. you both get to talking and he mentions how he shares your pics with his mates, and how they get so excited when he sends a new picture of you. you respond back how you’re honestly so flattered, and you’d like to talk to them as well and thank them for their contribution to your wishlist.

eventually, you find some app or website that you can use to chat with them while not giving out any personal information. of course, when the things they ordered come in the mail, you make sure to send them plenty of videos and pictures.

they are hooked.

now it’s almost like you have four sugar daddies, paying for your bikini waxes (if you want them, they don’t mind hair down there yk), sending you money for groceries, for getting your nails done, or just because. sometimes, they even compete between the four of them to see who can make you the happiest (determined by the amount of exclamation marks you use when thanking them).

a/n: this is so self indulgent and kind of based on some of my experiences when i had an nsft blog on tumblr lolll 🙈 anyway, this is kinda unedited and rambling but would any of you guys want me to write more w this concept?

[stellarsturniolos]

・ ˖  ✦ ⋄ . in which.. chris lets bsf!reader practice giving head on him.

warnings: smut, cursing, blowjob, i think that's everything.

A/N: reblogs and likes are appreciated! i do NOT give consent for my work to be copied or uploaded to any other platform. thank you. this is my first time attempting to write smut in years so pls be kind to me lmfao.

it's late at night. you and chris are sitting on your balcony, looking up at the blanket of stars that seem to stretch out to infinity. the occasional barking of dogs somewhere in the distance was the only noise that broke into the silence of the evening.

chris is your best friend. has been since you were a little kid. he's the person you feel the most at ease. you don't need to hold a conversation with him to have a good time – just being with him is enough for you.

"tell me something i don't know about you." he suddenly mumbles.

"what?" you snort softly. "you already know everything about me."

"oh, c'mon." he nudges your foot with his own. "there's gotta be something."

you avert your gaze as you feel heat rising into your cheeks. "... okay. i've never given a blowjob before."

his eyes widen as he gawks at you. "no way. really?"

you feel your lips twitch into a small smile at his surprise. "yes, really. and, i mean, it's not like i don't want to. trust me, i do. i'm just worried that i'll be really bad at it."

he blinked slowly, taking in your words. "you just need to practice."

you brows raise. "yeah? i've tried. on fruit, on my fucking dildo. but those things aren't the same as a real person. they can't give feedback."

his entire body grew unnaturally still, and you could almost see the thoughts spinning around in his head. "you could.. practice.. on me?" he says slowly. "i'm a real person. i can give feedback."

you feel your face grow even warmer. "i.. i, um.." you stutter. "i guess that's true."

"should we.. go inside?" he asks hesitantly.

you almost can't believe this is happening. that this is a real conversation that you're having with your best friend. you want to pinch yourself. "yeah.. yeah, let's go inside."

and before you can blink, he's standing up and grabbing your hand, tugging you inside your empty apartment and toward your bedroom.

you're suddenly very thankful that your roommate decided to spend the weekend with her boyfriend.

you pause in the doorway to your room and watch as chris pulls his hoodie off, revealing the soft t-shirt underneath. he plops down on your bed as he's done many times before. but never for something like this. he glances over at you with a faint smile. "you don't have to be so nervous, y'know? it's just me."

you nod as you step closer, sitting down on the bed near his thighs. "are you sure this is okay?"

"i wouldn't have offered if it wasn't okay." he reaches for your hand and places your palm over the now very obvious bulge in his jeans. "you feel that? feel how much i want this?"

"shit, chris." your fingers move to his zipper and belt buckle. you work quickly, tugging his jeans and boxers down his legs. you unexpectedly feel desperate for it. you want to see him, taste him, make him feel good.

your eyes widen as you see his dick for the first time, resting heavily against his stomach. it's huge. bigger than you ever imagined. much larger than your stupid fucking dildo.

you reach out with one hand and brush your fingers lightly over his shaft. you giggle softly as it twitches under your soft touch.

you scoot closer, until you're sitting in between his legs. you bend your head forward, flattening your tongue against the sensitive tip.

"fuuuuck." chris breathes out, his hips stuttering involuntarily.

you open your mouth and slowly suck him in. you want to savor the moment. you want to enjoy every second of this.

you lower yourself down as far as you can without gagging and wrap your fingers around the rest of his cock. your tongue brushes against his slit, tasting the precum that's steadily leaking out of him.

you look up and see chris looking down at you, his jaw slack and pupils dilated with desire. you've never seen him look like this, but you fucking love it.

you bob your head at a steady pace, fisting the part of his shaft that your mouth can't quite reach. you're a slobbering mess, but you don't give a damn. the slurping sounds of you pleasuring him only make you feel more aroused yourself.

you feel chris' hands in your hair, gripping and tugging. "mm, fuuuuck – so fuckin' good."

that's all the encouragement you need. you bob your head faster, your own moans muffled by the cock in your throat.

you watch his face the entire time. you love to see his pretty flushed cheeks. and the whimpers? fuck, you wish you could record them for later.

his hips lift off the bed, thrusting more of his dick down your throat. your cheeks go hollow as you suck as much of him in as you can.

"shit – mm, god – 'm gonna cum soon."

you dig your blunt fingernails into his thighs and bob your head a little faster. that's all it takes. his lower stomach tenses and his body stills as you feel warm spurts of cum hit the roof of your mouth and back of your throat.

you swallow every drop, not even minding the salty and bitter taste coating your tongue. you slowly pull off and press a soft kiss to his tip. you crawl up the bed and lay down next to chris, watching as he comes down from his high.

"was that okay?" you ask, trying to distract yourself from the wetness and need pulsing between your own thighs.

"jesus fuck." he laughs, still trying to catch his breath. "more than okay. that was.. so fucking good."

"but.. next time.. i wanna taste you."

[marlynnofmany]

Oh sure, you could easily just handwave most things and blame it on magic, but you don't have to for all of them!

For something like the seasons, it could be as simple as having different names for things. Maybe instead of dividing a year into four seasons, a culture divides it into six. You can still have summer (peak heat) and winter (peak cold), but the warming-up and the cooling-down periods each have two parts, with very different cultural connotations. That way you can have a Midwinter Ball as well as a Thaw Cookoff and a Hatchtime Egg-Painting Competition, with some time still to go before summer.

Jewelry can absolutely be anything we find pretty. That doesn't even need to be otherworldly, as long as there's some creativity put into it. I think the inclusion of that one on the list is to get people thinking about the possibilities instead of just sticking to the most obvious and over-used examples. I've seen some photos of gorgeous gowns decorated with iridescent beetle wings. Peacock feathers are a known quantity when it comes to spectacular birdstuff, but there's a ton of other possibilities there. The world is full of pretty things; as you said, it's all a matter of how valuable any given culture considers them to be.

Seeing an aurora near the equator would probably have to be a magic thing, but there are Southern Lights as well as Northern Lights, and all sorts of other atmospheric phenomena that aren't as famous. Maybe the story could include light pillars or anticrepuscular rays instead.

For domesticated animals, we do have plenty of real-world possibilities for pets other than cats and dogs. I don't think that entry in the list was as much about treating wild animals as like tame ones, as much as it was about inventing fantasy animals but treating them exactly like cats or dogs. While a shoulder dragon that behaves like a cat is adorable and lovely, there's untapped potential for going other routes. What about a dragon that overgrooms like a bird, or gnaws through the back of the snack cupboard like a hamster? A domesticated unicorn that uses its horn to unlock gates like the most troublemaking goat? Or some wholly made-up creature with behavioral quirks that can't be pinned on any existing animal?

Books are a tricky one. I wrote about a culture that uses knot-tying as a form of writing (inspired by quipu), though that does have limitations. Magic will probably have the most possibilities. Even if the end result does turn out to be Books But Different, or some form of Magic CDs, a bit of flavor will at least make it interesting. Maybe one culture uses pixies as scribes, and they write by dancing across the page like a tiny version of the Dinotopia dino-print alphabet. Maybe the common folks use clay tablets, pressing the edges of a stylus into the clay when wet, then drying it -- for an extra fee, they can have it enchanted to recite the message aloud when read or it can include a mental imprint so the reader gets a thought from the writer when they read. There's lots of leeway for making things interesting, even if they're not fully original.

I love thinking about stuff like this. Creative approaches to common things, clever explanations, surprises instead of everyday norms. Sure, you could just say that the wizard has a blue cat that teleports, and that's very cool, but you could also say he has an enchanted hairbrush that needs to brush something daily or else its bristles will overgrow, and he has to remind it to use the bundle of horsehair that's tied to the coat rack for just that reason. (Or the wig in the spare room. Or the stonework outside. Just not the wizard's hair; that's thinning enough as it is.)

Small fantasy worldbuilding elements you might want to think about:

A currency that isn’t gold-standard/having gold be as valuable as tin

A currency that runs entirely on a perishable resource, like cocoa beans

A clock that isn’t 24-hours

More or less than four seasons/seasons other than the ones we know

Fantastical weather patterns like irregular cloud formations, iridescent rain

Multiple moons/no moon

Planetary rings

A northern lights effect, but near the equator

Roads that aren’t brown or grey/black, like San Juan’s blue bricks

Jewelry beyond precious gems and metals

Marriage signifiers other than wedding bands

The husband taking the wife's name / newlyweds inventing a new surname upon marriage

No concept of virginity or bastardry

More than 2 genders/no concept of gender

Monotheism, but not creationism

Gods that don’t look like people

Domesticated pets that aren’t re-skinned dogs and cats

Some normalized supernatural element that has nothing to do with the plot

Magical communication that isn’t Fantasy Zoom

“Books” that aren’t bound or scrolls

A nonverbal means of communicating, like sign language

A race of people who are obligate carnivores/ vegetarians/ vegans/ pescatarians (not religious, biological imperative)

I’ve done about half of these myself in one WIP or another and a little detail here or there goes a long way in reminding the audience that this isn’t Kansas anymore.

[girl-lostconnection]

i luv ur work and I'm just curious your thoughts on if bat reader got pregnant? Maybe a little clutch of 3 babies that are around 6lbs each so small but maybe most fruit bat babies are? Or since it's a hybrid of the one/all the boys maybe it's one baby but a little bigger and sweet reader is waddling everywhere constantly barefoot

Yk, anon, your idea is so cute I’m gonna give you a pass for pregnancy trope because god knows I’m not a fan of it. Don’t get me wrong, I have massive respect for people who decide to get pregnant but Jesus, if it’s not some prime horror material. Also I just personally don’t like pregnancies or kids

Okay, you will need to hold my hand with this one because the next thing will be wildly anti-scientific and borderline magical, but it’s fanfiction — we are gonna freestyle. No one can stop us from having fun, anon.

I can imagine Reader finding out they are pregnant and as soon as 141 find out, at least one of the boys is glued to their side.

Especially Price — Komodo dragons are incredibly protective fathers and he is no exception. The man would be patiently peeling and cutting all and every fruit, rubbing your legs and kissing your cheeks because you deserve it for working so hard.

Simon’s provider instincts would go haywire because your scent changes with pregnancy and primal part of him needs to make sure you eat enough, you are warm, you are safe, you are comfortable. He is slightly paranoid and doesn’t let you walk anywhere alone, just looming over your shoulder.

But he’s also the one who will relax once he sees that one of the lads actually come to take turn guarding you. Wolves separate responsibilities and in a wolf pack some wolves go hunting while others watch pups then they switch. So he’s okay if someone is nearby but he definitely feels more comfortable if he’s glued to your side and his hand is on your shoulder.

Man seriously doesn’t understand why can’t you all just move as the group of five if that would maximise the safety of you and the child. So what if it’s impractical? Doesn’t matter that he would look like he’s guarding a bloody prime minister, he will be advocating for you all to walk around together.

Kyle is relatively calm because he’s not velcro husband but make no mistake the man is velcro dad. Eagles are incredibly protective of their young and shield them from cold and heat and predators and literally chew food for them. Let’s hope Garrick holds himself together.

But he def would become more attentive, pecking kisses here and there, chatting you up before bed. I think it would soothe his human part that he can hear how calm and happy you are with everything and therefore it’s okay.

Soap is surprisingly the calmest of the bunch, he reads up a lot on bay hybrids and how long the pregnancies go and what to expect. He starts a journal with memories for the baby(-ies) when they grow up so they know how loved and cared for they were even before birth.

The man is there scratching and writing away, notating the side effects and doodling you devouring a melon all alone as he watches you in love. Soap would also be the calmest dad of them all but on the scale of 1-10 where 1 is protective and 10 is Simon Ghost Riley, he’s 11.

He’s all easy smiles and charm and then he just snaps his jaws when someone tries to touch the baby(-ies) or you without asking because hands the fuck off. Get your own, baby and mate, these are his.

He has no chill when it comes to this, I’m sorry.

And then there’s you, who starts sleeping exclusively head down and wrapping in your own wings and Kyle’s when he’s available. You get cold easier so you cuddle up to hot like furnace Simon and then you are too hot and snappy, scrambling back on your perch.

You start walking barefoot because cool is nice and because staying in half transformation is easier then wasting energy to be mostly human (Johnny blinks once, twice then his hind brain takes over and he’s grooming you for hours on end because omg, that’s fur, this is lovely, hen, come ‘ehe)

And then babies themselves arrive. In the scenario where there are multiple of them — like a clutch of 3 babies, they mostly all resemble only you in the first few months because they emerge as lil bat hybrids covered in bat fur.

They will loose most of it after the first year but before that — the only indicative of who might be the dad is the eye colour.

Doesn’t help that both John’s are blue-eyed.

In scenario where there is only one baby, which would be definitely rarer, I think it would be fun if the baby actually was a different hybrid, for example you have yourself a little seal!baby and Soap is ecstatic. I think his baby would be the oldest one and if you decide to have any more, the next would be Kyle’s, then Price’s and Simon’s twins would be the last ones.

[hyunjiiza]

hint: lover with a dollar sign | . ᯓ 🍵 ݁‧ ᵔ

➜ he’s a loser ! ୨୧ skz members and what type of cute loner they’d be . | contents : drug use , fem reader implied ᰋ wc ; 1633 . ꉂ ot8 .ᐟ

｡ ᰋ 𓂃 | i’m not pushing any of these narratives onto them, it’s just dif scenarios i wanted to write them in ! this is a bit of an older work from my other account but i’m moving here so hi

chan as the 𐔌 stoner loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

shows up to school smelling like weed but no one cares because he does all his work and never causes trouble

you make eye contact with him for the first time in the parking lot while he’s smoking, he falls in love when you smile and wave

turns down everyone that hits on him after that

when he finally musters up the courage to talk to you all he can do is tap your shoulder in the same parking lot he first saw you and ask if you smoke

no matter your answer, he asks to get to know you better

follows you around like a bodyguard after that

never ever lets you carry your own bag and always makes sure you have something to eat for lunch whether he has to pay for you or not

pretty smart in most subjects so you have study dates often because he just likes your presence

won’t smoke around you if you don’t like it

never posts anything besides you and aesthetic pictures he takes

isn’t the type to fight but he will if someone disrespects you, but they back off because of his size before it gets to that point

hyunjin as the 𐔌 artsy loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

has one black pen and one red pen that he abuses every day

pays attention for the most part but occasionally gets distracted doodling in his notebooks

def has drawings all over his hands

the first time he noticed you was in art class and he thought you were so pretty he started drawing you

you glance over and he’s mortified when he realizes he probably looks like a creep

too nervous to go up to you and explain so he leaves you a note with little drawings all over (plus the drawing of you) and a replacement of the pink gel pen he notices you using all the time

gets super nervous when he sees you walking up to him the next day

you ask him to partner up for a project and thank him for the drawing

ends up kissing you at your last project session

asks you out with the most thoughtful basket filled with things you like and a letter with another drawing of you and almost cries when you don’t answer right away

does everything for you after you get together

the art teacher is yalls biggest fan

has no one else to cling to so he’s all over you 24/7

gives nasty glares to men who simply look at you

felix as the 𐔌 fashion design loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

like hyunjin, spends most of his time sketching out designs in his scrap book where he keeps all his miniature fabric samples in

sulks because there’s no fashion club for him to join

is initially drawn to you because of an outfit you wore that he loves

eventually asks where you got your top when you wear it again and his heartstrings pull at the way you answer so sweetly and compliment his hair

after that the two of you gradually got closer and closer

you help him learn to sew and he starts planning marriage then and there (he wants to help design your wedding dress)

sews matching patches on your backpacks

you catch him texting his best friend that lives abroad about you

gets so nervous he cries

you tell him you feel the same way and he cries even harder

just gets even clingier once you end up together

loves kissing you and laying together while he sketches

takes you out whenever you want and spoils you rotten because he has rich parents

matching outfits = fire insta pics

jeongin as the 𐔌 sour patch loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

never talks to anyone so everyone thinks he’s mean but he’s really an angel

your elective teacher makes your class do a secret santa and he gets you

he gives you oddly specific gifts (he has a massive crush on you and overhears you telling your friends your wishlist) and includes a note sweet talking you

you go up to him and thank him with a kiss on the cheek and he turns red

he asks you to hang out and pays for brunch and the cutest pottery painting date

gets the teacher to move you two to sit next to each other

everyone’s a little surprised when they see how he’s so gentle with you

decides he needs to get over himself and ask you out and gets you a pandora charm bracelet and a pretty bouquet of flowers

pampers you with your favorite snacks or meals randomly, refills of makeup you use, randomly does your homework for you

flips off ur exes and flexes on them when you aren’t looking then turns around to kiss you

is at your house 24/7 because he can’t breathe without you but is supportive when you go out with your friends or need a solo day

loves going to the beach with you and carrying you so your feet don’t get sandy

jisung as the 𐔌 nerdy loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

has good grades and the teachers remember his name because his work is always on time

eats alone in the library because he has no one to sit with

you walk in on him while picking up a book you need and he’s super embarrassed (he’s had a crush on you since middle school)

you ask to sit with him because you think he’s cute and he trips over his words answering you

you spend lunch with him every day after that and he starts packing a lunch for you too

accidentally confesses he has a fat crush on you when you ask if he has a girlfriend

he starts rambling after and shuts up when he notices you’re giggling at him

you kiss him and he swears his lifelong dream has come true

is the sweetest boyfriend ever

does all your homework for you and insists it’s really no problem

drives you to and from school every day because “that’s what boyfriends are for”

never looks at anyone but you and writes down threats and shoves them in guys lockers when they hit on you

minho as the 𐔌 gym loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

purposefully gets his free period after his weightlifting class so he can spend two periods working out

isn’t really shy, just doesn’t like anyone enough to have friends

girls check him out occasionally but he always ignores them

catches you freaking out when you have no clothes to change in and offers you his shirt because he thinks you’re cute

uses that as an excuse to mess with you

“if i can bench your weight you owe me a date”

spoiler, he can.

makes sure to tell you you don’t really owe him anything and he’s just messing with you

you agree to the date and he picks you up and takes you on a surprisingly thoughtful date

drive around town, food and watching the sunset, takes your pictures next to pretty flowers and keeps his arm around you the whole time

asks you if you really have to go when he’s dropping you off

walks you to your door and gives you a hug (he’s never dated anyone and too scared to kiss you)

texts you that he had a really good time and he would “work to make you his”

it doesn’t take much work and he kisses you right after he asks you to be his

is way too proud of his build and wears sleeveless shirts just to scare anyone that looks at you

carries you around any chance he gets

seungmin as the 𐔌 music lover loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

walks around with his headphones in 24/7

hums to himself quietly while he studies

you ask him about a song he was humming and he’s surprised you were talking to him

you think he hates you till he smiles at you when you walk into class

makes you a playlist to make his move on you

doesn’t know how to tell you he likes you at all so he just kinda teases you to flirt with you

takes you to a record store at lunch because he wanted to show you the spot

stares at you a little too hard so you ask him if he wants a kiss as a joke

says yes and moves your hair out of your face, you guys have a make out sesh and only stop when the owner clears his throat awkwardly at the both of you

you make him go back inside alone and buy you the vinyl you want

he comes back out with it and 5 more that you didn’t wanna ask for but knows you wanted anyway

you skip the rest of the day and go to his house and use his record player

you fall asleep on him and he takes 0.5s of you

shares his headphones with you, but doesn’t share his food (until you make a sad face at him and he gives in instantly. works every time.)

changbin as the 𐔌 sweetheart loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

all of his professors adore him, all the school staff does at this point

has the maximum hours of community service that he can have but won’t stop helping around where he can

notices you from the start because he thinks you’re pretty, but really starts liking you when he sees you volunteer at an elementary school

accidentally scares you coming up behind you when you’re hanging a banner

you guys start helping at the same places and make a tradition of hanging up banners together

after a while he figures he might as well just tell you how he feels, is elated when you hug him and tell him the feelings mutual

confesses that he was actually really nervous and gets flustered when you tease him about it because he thinks you’re the prettiest

when you ask why he never hangs out with anyone he says he doesn’t like people with unpure hearts and that’s why he loves you so much

definitely takes you out and buys you guys matching stuff

married couple

. ᯓ 🍵 ݁‧ ᵔ | @0sunshinecryptid0 @jinnieboosworld @lixies-favorite-cookie @zelinkcrossing @hwanqluvs @hyunjiiza @hyunnisa @eastjonowhere @nxtt2-u @pixie-felix @smlbch @tricky-ritz @yaniluvs @pigeonseatmayo @transparentheartcollection | [༝༚] @hyunjiiza 1:37 am

[luveline]

so i had this silly thought the other night while i was doing a mud mask of jack stumbling upon reader (could be bombshell r, hotchner r, or whoever u would like <3) doing a mud mask and not quite understanding what it is (although r tries to explain it to him), and later on jack’s teacher tells aaron that jack and/or his friends were trying to apply mud to their faces at recess to ‘help their skin’ 😭 so then r has to clarify that u can’t just put any mud on ur face haha and maybe she offers to get some face masks for her and jack (and maybe aaron?) to try together <3 i know this is a bit of a silly idea and it may be too specific so ofc no pressure at all if this doesn’t inspire u!! u write aaron (and jack!) so well and i love everything u put out jade thank u for sharing ur writing with us <333

-💫

“Y/N, what the heck are you doing?” 

You wrinkle your nose at him. “What kind of language is that, babe? What would your daddy say if he heard you saying that?” 

Jack doesn’t even pretend to act chastened. If there’s one thing Jack Hotchner knows about you, it’s that you’re wrapped around his little finger, forever and always. It’s all you can do to keep your arms to yourself as he crawls into bed next to you. 

“Is that cucumber?” 

“Want some?” you ask. 

Jack takes a piece of cucumber and munches on it with a wet snap. “Your face has mud on it.” 

“It does.” 

“Why?” 

You peek at him through one eye. “It apparently draws out the impurities in my face. I’m not sure how it happens, but it makes my skin feel really soft when I wash it off.” 

“Oh. But it’s mud.”

“Yeah, it is, I don’t know how it happens. Must be magic.” You love Jack’s little face. He’s cute. His hair is still blonde at the ends, last bits of summer clinging to him, a tan on his pert nose. “Would you wanna try it?” 

“How long does it have to be on?” 

“About ten minutes. Or before it dries. We wash it off with a face towel.” 

“Okay. But just a little bit.” 

“Sure, babe. You can tell me if it’s too much.” 

Jack sits in front of your lap. You unscrew the pot of clay mask and use the small spreader it comes with to scoop up the mask. Cold, you whisper, but Jack giggles anyways, startled at the feeling as you smooth it over his forehead, his cheeks, and his round chin. You use your fingertips to connect the sections, colour in his nose, and smooth it out. Jack lets his eyes close in little-kid bliss, like he might fall asleep. 

“Do you want the cucumbers on your eyes?” you ask. 

“For relaxing?”

“Yeah, they’re cold too.” 

He lays back on Aaron's side of the bed and you plop on his cucumbers. Fifteen minutes later you encourage him into the bathroom to wash it away, holding his chin, warm, clay-stained water running down his neck. He insists on returning the favour, which ends in you squeezing his cheeks to tell him you love him, which makes him fluster like his father at the receiving end of a good compliment. “I love you too,” he mumbles, looking down at the floor. 

“Feel how soft your cheek is,” you say. 

“I think you have to wash your face,” he says back. “Sorry.” 

It’s great. By the time Aaron’s home from work you’re both super soft and while you don’t offer any explanation, he seems to notice, lackadaisical finger against Jack's cheek prompting an inquisitive, “Jack, have you been in Y/N’s shower stuff again?” 

“No.” 

You and Jack decide to keep your relaxing afternoon a secret. You think nothing of it for a while. The next time you use your clay mask he’s sleeping at his Aunt Jess’, and Aaron asks why you’re smiling, so you tell a half truth and say you’re thinking of Jack, which makes Aaron so smiley he tries to kiss you despite the mud.

Another few days and you get Jack back, only to give him over to school. Evil school. You and Aaron go to work. It’s some time nearing 1PM when Aaron steps out of his office, buttoning his coat around his neck. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask over Emily’s head. 

Morgan copies your frown. 

“Hotch?” 

“Jack is in trouble at school. Apparently he got into a play-fight and everyone needs a change of clothes.” He gives you a look, as if to say, you gotta love him. And you really do. “I’ll be back before the end of lunch.”

“I can go?” you offer. 

“I’m already wearing my coat.” He leans over to kiss your cheek and bids you goodbye. 

You don’t see your partner again. When he fails to turn up after lunch, you figure he’s taken Jack home —Jack tends to get upset when bad stuff happens at school even if he was just having fun because of his astounding guilty conscience. Aaron texts you not long before you’re due to start worrying with a simple, Sorry, not going to make it back in today. Jack was a bit upset. 

Your boss isn’t there, so you take a session with your coworkers, standing up at your desk and clearing your throat. “Because my boss is my boyfriend and also not here, I’ve decided to bring my query to the court.” 

You wait. Your team looks at you expectantly. 

“Go ahead,” Derek says. 

“Jack was so upset at school that he had to go home. Do I, as his almost step mom and number one fan, have the group's permission to go home now so I can get him cookies from Ben’s?” 

“Aw, he was upset?” Emily says, frowning but also cooing. 

You hold your heart. “I know. He’s such a sweetheart. So, can I go?” 

“You want us to do your consultations?” Spencer asks. 

“No!” you say, tucking a stray curl behind Spencer’s ear and delighting in the way he shoves you away. He’s laughing as he does it, used to your affection. “You can if you want to, handsome, but I was just gonna finish it tonight on Aaron’s computer.”

“Just go,” Morgan says, rolling his eyes. 

“Family emergency,” Emily agrees. 

“Don’t really do my consults,” you tell Spencer, grinning when he waves you off. 

You make a pit stop at Ben’s for praline filled cookies and smile despite yourself the whole way home. You’re not worried about Jack, he has his dad, and it was only dirt, you’re just excited to see him and to ditch work and to maybe, maybe, lay your head in Aaron’s lap sometime soon. He strokes the skin behind your ear and leans down to kiss you whenever he feels like it, which means you can amass upwards of five kisses an hour. It’s elastic. 

“Babe?” you call, knocking open the door with a clatter. Shoes wait for you at the entryway. You leave your kitten heels by light up sketchers and dress shoes neatly lined. “Honey? Angel?” 

“Are you talking to me?” Aaron calls from the door of the kitchen, suddenly in view. 

“Am I in trouble?” you ask. 

Aaron checks his watch. “Oh, definitely.” 

“Personal paid time off?” 

“Sure. What’s in the bag?” 

“Oh, you know, just something special for the baby. Is he okay?” 

“He’s unhappy with me, truth be told.” 

“Why’s that?” 

Aaron holds your gaze. “Weirdly, I think you might have a better idea of the situation than I do.” 

You follow him back into the kitchen, confused and eager for an explanation. Jack’s at the door that leads to your backyard, sitting on the stoop, looking stroppy and tired and relieved to see you, which is nice. “Hey,” you say, “what’s with the frowny face, beautiful?” 

“Dad doesn’t believe me.” 

“Doesn’t believe you about what?” 

“Me and Adrian was putting mud on our faces at school because it makes us soft, like we did, but dad doesn’t think we did it.” 

“We did,” you say immediately, giving Aaron a soft, honest look, not mad at anyone and not sure where the confusion is coming from, “you’ve seen my masks, honey.” 

“Your clay mask is blue,” Aaron says. 

“Is not!” Jack says. “It’s red just like mud!” 

“Well, when me and Jack did a mask together a couple of weeks ago, it was the red one, but it was a new one. I usually use that blue one,” you say, relieved when Aaron begins to look amused rather than slightly annoyed. “It’s my fault, babe.” 

You turn to Jack. “Baby,” you say, trying your best to look serious and kind at once, “the clay mask we did together is called a mud mask, and it does have mud in it, but it’s not like the mud at school, okay? It’s probably not a good idea for you and Adrian to rub it on yourselves.” 

Jack crosses his arms in front of him, slouching. “Well, how was I s’posed to know that?” he asks, sounding about as angry as he ever gets, which isn’t much. 

Aaron sighs deeply. You’re sure you’re in for it, you’ve wasted half of everyone’s day now ‘cos you didn’t explain a simple concept, but then he says, “You love to exclude me, the both of you.” 

“What?” you ask, gasping through a laugh. 

“Doing things together and not telling me!” he insists. “If you’d let me join in, I wouldn’t have upset Jack today because I’d know why he was playing in the mud.” 

You hold his gaze, refusing to break as his smile grows and grows despite the effort he pulls into staying straight. 

“So I’m not in trouble?” Jack asks. 

Aaron smiles. “Don’t think so, Jackers, not unless you did something I don’t know about.” 

“I didn’t!” 

“Then consider yourself innocent. I’m sorry I didn’t understand you.” 

“I’m sorry for not explaining the difference,” you add. 

Jack looks at both of you, all sunny-eyed, ready to be coddled by somebody and without a favourite. “Okay, thank you. It’s not your fault you didn’t know, dad. And it’s okay about the explaining,” he says to you seriously. ”Explaining is hard.” 

Jack encroaches back into the room now he’s believed, reaching for Aaron’s legs, markedly pleased when his dad bends down to hug him. It’s an apology cuddle, but it also checks for resentment or sadness alike. Jack closes his eyes, alright with how things have worked out. 

You feel ever so slightly excluded, but you do your best to stay still, loyally waiting your turn, and rewarded handsomely when Jack finishes hugging his dad and crowds you instead, arms held up insistently. There’s no protesting when you lift him onto the counter for a better hug. When you say sorry again for technically getting him into trouble, he shakes his head. 

“Just an accident,” he says, in the tenor of a practised line, one of Aaron’s mantras sinking in. 

“Can I make it up to you? We won’t exclude dad this time.” 

Jack gets lifted from one counter to another. You let him eat one of his cookies in the bathroom (and despite his face mask) but wrinkle your nose at the idea, his dad beside him, leaning back, tie undone and t-shirt unbuttoned to the third. The slice of undershirt on display makes your week. 

Completely still as he is, you raise yourself up to draw the face mask onto Aaron’s cheeks and forehead. He laughs like Jack did at the cold, more of a giggle, but he doesn’t move. 

“It does feel like mud,” Aaron says. 

“I told you,” Jack says. There’s cookie crumbs stuck in the mask around his mouth. 

You kiss Aaron chastely. 

“Just wait for how soft this is gonna make your skin,” you say. 

“I think my skin is as soft as it’s going to get, but thank you, honey.”

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.6

Chapter Six: I Keep These Longings Locked In Lowercase Inside A Vault

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck, On-Set Accident, Blood, Stitches, Medic

Word Count: 9.6k

A/N: GOOD MORNING CHICKENS 🙂‍↕️ Lowkey, I ran into a wall writing this chapter LOL. Anyways, almost murdered the reader cause why not HEHE. If we’re doing hallmark tropes— I’M GOING ALL THE WAY, BABY.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Guilty As Sin? By Taylor Swift

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CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EARLY MORNING

Sunlight filters softly through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. The air feels calm, almost too calm, as if it knows that something is about to shift.  

“You know we’ll still see each other at work, right?” you say with a soft laugh, zipping up your suitcase and trying to keep things light.  

Despite your tone, there’s a strange ache in your chest—a heaviness that lingers just beneath the surface. You keep your focus on the zipper, avoiding his gaze for a moment too long.  

Pedro stands in the doorway, arms crossed, his shoulder resting casually against the frame as he watches you with that familiar ease. But there’s something different in his expression this morning, something quieter. “Doesn’t mean I’ll miss you any less,” he replies, his voice warm but tinged with a softness that makes your heart stumble.  

Then his lips curl into a teasing pout. “Especially the cuddles.”  

Your breath catches, heat rushing to your cheeks as flashes of last night fill your mind—the two of you curled up together on the couch, your head on his chest, his arm draped around you. You’d fallen asleep like that, wrapped in warmth and comfort, his steady heartbeat beneath your ear. Neither of you had moved until morning.  

You clear your throat, trying to play it off. “I’m sure you’ll survive without a cuddle buddy for one night.”  

“Survive, yes.” Pedro sighs dramatically. “But thrive? Highly questionable.”  

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his antics. The knot in your chest loosens just a little. Stepping closer, you reach out and gently take his hand. Your fingers brush against his palm, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.  

“Walk me to my new room?” you ask, your voice quieter now, almost shy.  

Pedro’s eyes soften as he looks down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “Of course,” he says, his voice steady, reassuring. “Lead the way.”  

The hallway is peaceful in the early morning light, the soft hum of the hotel’s quiet routine filling the air. Pedro stays close, his shoulder brushing yours with every step. It feels effortless, this closeness, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.  

When you reach your new room, you pause, staring at the door as your grip tightens around the keycard. Suddenly, you’re not so sure you’re ready to walk in and let the bubble of the past week burst.  

Pedro notices, his head tilting slightly as he studies you. “You okay?”  

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah. Just… feels a little weird, that’s all.”  

He steps closer, his hand resting gently on your arm. “Weird how?”  

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. “Like… we’ve been in this little bubble all week,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. “And now it’s about to pop.”  

Pedro’s brow furrows for a second before his expression shifts into something reassuring. His thumb traces a soothing line against your sleeve. “It doesn’t have to pop,” he says softly. “It can stretch—change shape a little. But it doesn’t have to go away.”  

You blink up at him, caught off guard by how easily his words settle the swirling uncertainty inside you.  

“You’re right,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re annoyingly good at this.”  

Pedro grins, stepping back just enough to give you space while still keeping his hand on your arm. “It’s one of my many talents,” he teases.  

You swipe the keycard and push the door open, the soft click of the lock breaking the moment. “Well, thanks for the walk,” you say softly, standing just inside the doorway.  

He lingers for a moment, his eyes lingering on yours like he’s not quite ready to leave. “Anytime.”  

There’s a beat of silence, charged but gentle, before he takes a step back.  

“Pedro?” you call after him, your voice instinctive and soft.  

He turns back, one brow raised. “Yeah?”  

You hesitate for just a second, then smile. “See you tomorrow?”  

His face lights up in that easy, familiar way that feels like home. “You can count on it.”  

You watch him disappear down the hall, the warmth of his presence lingering in the air long after he’s gone. The ache in your chest eases, replaced by something lighter—something that feels suspiciously like hope.  

With a soft sigh, you close the door behind you and lean against it for a moment, letting the quiet settle around you. It feels strange not having Pedro right there, filling the space with his warmth and playful banter. The silence feels heavier now, but you shake it off and turn toward your suitcase.  

Unpacking is slow and deliberate, each item placed carefully, like it might somehow ground you in this new room. Eventually, you unzip the side pocket and spot the little polaroid photobooth strip you’d tucked away.  

You pull it out, your fingers brushing gently over the glossy surface. The photo was taken just yesterday, but it feels like a lifetime ago—a perfect little slice of happiness frozen in time. Pedro’s grinning wide in the picture, his arm slung around your shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You’re laughing, caught mid-giggle, eyes bright and cheeks flushed from too much teasing.  

Your lips curve into a small smile at the memory. That day… it’s up there in your top three moments in life, one of those days you pray you’ll never forget—if you’re lucky.  

It had started with a spontaneous coffee run that turned into hours of wandering through the streets, popping into bookshops and vintage stores, taking goofy photos at every opportunity. Pedro had insisted on the photobooth, dragging you inside with that mischievous glint in his eyes.  

You’d rolled your eyes but followed him in, unable to resist the way his excitement was so contagious. The tiny booth had been cramped, your shoulders pressed together as you both tried to fit into the frame. Pedro had leaned closer, his head nearly resting against yours, and flashed a ridiculous grin just as the camera clicked.  

The memory warms you now, a soft glow that spreads through your chest. You can still hear his voice, still feel the weight of his arm around you, still see the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

You carefully set the photo on the nightstand, propping it up against the lamp. It feels like a little piece of him is here with you, anchoring you in a way that nothing else can.  

The rest of your unpacking is a blur, your thoughts drifting back to him over and over. It’s ridiculous, really, how much space he takes up in your mind.  

Stop it, you tell yourself. You’ll see him tomorrow. It’s no big deal.  

But deep down, you know it’s a little more complicated than that. You’ve been in this bubble with him for days—wrapped up in late-night conversations, shared coffee runs, and the kind of closeness that feels far too easy. Now that you’re on the edge of something new, something that feels like it could change everything, you don’t quite know how to navigate it.  

Your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts.  

Pedro: Miss me yet?  

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the grin that’s already forming. He’s impossible.  

You: I was just starting to enjoy the peace and quiet.  

There’s a pause, and then:  

Pedro: Liar. You miss me.  

You roll your eyes, warmth blooming in your chest.  

You: Maybe a little.  

Pedro: Thought so. Meet me for coffee in the morning?  

Your heart flutters at the thought, the ache in your chest completely forgotten.  

You: It’s a date.  

You set your phone down, the smile lingering on your lips.

SOHO HOUSE – AFTERNOON 

The café is buzzing with the low hum of conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mixing with something warm and buttery from the kitchen. You slide into a booth where Daisy and Omar are already waiting, their plates half-finished, because of course, you’re the late one.  

“There she is,” Daisy grins, sipping her iced latte. “Surprised you could make time for little old us.”  

Omar smirks, leaning back against the booth. “Figured you’d be too busy playing house with Pedro.”  

You nearly choke on your water. “Oh my god, shut up.”  

Daisy gasps dramatically. “So defensive. We’re just saying—you two have been… spending a lot of time together.”  

“Yeah,” Omar adds, raising an eyebrow. “Like, a lot.”  

You roll your eyes, setting your napkin in your lap. “We were literally just sharing a suite until my room was ready. That’s it.”  

Daisy exchanges a knowing glance with Omar before turning back to you. “Sure. And is ‘just sharing a suite’ why you’re glowing like you’ve been in a rom-com montage?”  

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “I hate you both.”  

Omar laughs. “That’s fine, but tell me I’m wrong.”  

You hesitate a second too long, and that’s all Daisy needs to pounce.  

“She’s not denying it.”  

You huff, taking a pointed bite of your food. “Can we talk about literally anything else?”  

Daisy leans in, dropping her voice. “Fine. Let’s talk about how Cecilia is a raging bitch.”  

Omar sighs. “Finally.”  

Your stomach twists. You’ve been dealing with it all week—Cecilia’s passive-aggressive comments, her cutting looks, the way she talks over you during meetings like you don’t even exist. You thought maybe you were imagining it at first, but then Daisy started noticing. Then Omar. And now it’s become impossible to ignore.  

“She’s been awful to you,” Omar says, frowning. “Like, openly awful.”  

“Yeah, I don’t get it,” Daisy adds. “It’s like she’s got some weird grudge against you. She’s only nice when Pedro’s around.”  

You exhale slowly, pushing your food around with your fork. “I don’t know what her problem is.”  

“She’s threatened by you,” Daisy says matter-of-factly. “You’re good at your job, and Pedro actually, you know, likes you.”  

You shoot her a look. “Daisy.”  

“What? I’m just saying. She’s been trying to sink her claws into him forever, and now she’s watching him give you all his attention. You think that’s a coincidence?”  

Omar nods. “She’s not even subtle about it.”  

You groan, rubbing your temple. “It’s just exhausting. I don’t want drama, I just want to do my job.”  

Daisy softens. “I know, babe. But you should bring it up to the first AD. This isn’t just personal—it’s affecting your work.”  

Omar nods. “Exactly. You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit.”  

You chew on your lip, debating. The idea of escalating it makes your stomach knot, but at the same time… they’re right. You shouldn’t have to just deal with it.  

“I’ll think about it,” you say finally.  

Daisy raises an eyebrow. “You better.”  

Omar smirks. “Now, back to Pedro—”  

You groan.  

Daisy grins, nudging you. “What? Just curious—how’s the cuddling?”  

You hide your face in your hands again.  

They’re never going to let this go.  

OXFORD STREET – AFTERNOON  

The city hums around you, the air thick with the scent of freshly brewed coffee from a nearby café, the distant chatter of tourists mixing with the occasional honk of a taxi. The sky is an endless stretch of soft blue, and the warmth of the sun against your skin makes the day feel lighter, easier.  

Daisy swings her shopping bag dramatically as she walks beside you. “Alright, so we’ve got the essentials—skincare, snacks, some clothes. Anything else?”  

“I could use some new art supplies,” you muse, adjusting your tote bag on your shoulder. “I ran out of markers.”  

Omar gasps. “Tragic. We must fix this.”  

Daisy nods solemnly. “Immediately.”  

You laugh as they steer you toward the next store, their enthusiasm contagious. The three of you weave through shelves of neatly stacked notebooks, sketchpads, and rows upon rows of colorful markers. You let your fingers trail over the different shades, your mind already picturing what you could create.  

“Should I be concerned that you look this excited over pens?” Omar teases, peering over your shoulder.  

You roll your eyes, tossing a pack of markers into your shopping basket. “Not everyone can be an influencer like some people. Some of us need hobbies.”  

Daisy cackles. “Wow. Drag him.”  

Omar clutches his chest. “I am wounded.”  

You smirk, grabbing a sketchbook before leading them back into the bustle of the street.  

A few stores later, as you browse through a boutique filled with delicate jewelry, something catches your eye—a simple but elegant bracelet, a thin gold chain with a tiny, shimmering star charm. You pause, tilting your head as you trace a fingertip over it.  

It’s beautiful. Understated but meaningful.  

You hesitate, then shake your head, gently setting it back down. You’ve already bought enough today.  

Daisy, pretending to check her phone, subtly snaps a picture of the bracelet the moment you turn away. She shares a quick glance with Omar, who smirks knowingly, before tucking her phone back into her pocket like nothing happened.  

“Alright,” Omar announces. “Time for the grand finale.”  

You raise a brow. “Which is?”  

He gestures dramatically toward a shop just a few doors down—a musical instrument store. Through the large glass window, you can see rows of guitars hanging on the walls, keyboards set up near the back, and a few people testing out instruments.  

You take a step back. “Oh, no.”  

“Oh, yes,” Daisy says, grabbing your arm.  

“I just wanted art supplies,” you protest, even as they start dragging you toward the entrance.  

“And now you get music,” Omar grins. “A full creative experience.”  

The bell above the door chimes as you step inside. The scent of polished wood and old sheet music fills the air, and soft acoustic strumming floats from the back where someone is testing a guitar.  

Daisy and Omar immediately start messing around—Omar taps on a few piano keys while Daisy picks up a tambourine and shakes it dramatically.  

You, however, find yourself drawn to the guitars.  

Your fingers brush against the smooth neck of one, its warm, honey-colored wood gleaming under the soft lighting. Without thinking, you pick it up, settling it onto your lap as you sit on a nearby stool.  

The weight of it is familiar, grounding.  

You give the strings a tentative strum. The sound vibrates through your fingertips, sending a shiver up your spine.  

Omar and Daisy go quiet, watching as you idly pluck a few chords, your fingers moving almost instinctively.  

And then, without meaning to, you start playing something real.  

The opening chords of Risk by Gracie Abrams fill the air, delicate and wistful.  

Your voice follows, soft at first, barely above a hum.  

“And I wake up

In the middle of the night

With the light on

And I feel like I could die

'Cause you're not here

And it don't feel right

'Cause you're not here”

The melody flows effortlessly from your lips, your fingers moving with muscle memory, like the song has always been resting just beneath your skin.  

Daisy and Omar exchange a look, their teasing smiles replaced with something quieter, something fonder.  

You don’t even notice the way the store quiets, how a few people glance in your direction.  

“God, I'm actually invested

Haven't even met him

Watch this be the wrong thing, classic

God, I'm jumpin' in the deep end

It's more fun to swim in

Heard the risk is drownin', but I'm gonna take it”

Your voice is steady but gentle, carrying the weight of the lyrics, the quiet ache of them.  

For a moment, it’s just you and the music.  

When you finish the last chord, letting it ring softly into the still air, you finally glance up.  

Omar and Daisy are staring.  

“…What?” you ask, suddenly shy.  

Daisy blinks. “So you’re just gonna casually have the voice of an angel and not tell us?”  

You huff a laugh, setting the guitar down. “I just… like playing sometimes.”  

Omar shakes his head in disbelief. “Unacceptable. We need to form a band immediately.”  

You roll your eyes, standing up. “You’re being ridiculous.”  

Daisy loops an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you. “No, we just love you and think you’re unfairly talented.”  

Your cheeks warm, but you let yourself smile.  

Maybe today really was a good day.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING  

The ride back is filled with laughter, the kind that lingers even after the jokes have faded, warmth curling around the edges of your chest. The three of you are crammed into the backseat of a cab, shopping bags piled between you, the city blurring past in a wash of golden streetlights and neon signs.  

“I still cannot believe you didn’t tell us you could sing like that,” Daisy says for what has to be the fifth time.  

Omar sighs dramatically. “Honestly, I feel betrayed. I thought we were close.”  

You groan, leaning your head back against the seat. “It wasn’t a secret—I just never thought to mention it.”  

Omar clutches his chest. “Oh, so we’re just chopped liver then?”  

You give him a deadpan look. “Yes. Exactly.”  

Daisy cackles, and Omar glares at both of you before shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. “This is the worst day of my life.”  

The driver chuckles quietly, clearly entertained by the three of you.  

The cab slows in front of the Chiltern Firehouse, the warm glow of the entrance lights spilling onto the pavement. You reach for your bags, shifting them into your arms as Daisy nudges you lightly.  

“Alright, superstar. We’ll see you tomorrow?”  

You nod. “Breakfast?”  

“Obviously,” Omar says. “We can’t function without an unhealthy amount of caffeine and gossip.”  

Daisy smirks. “And don’t think we forgot about her.”  

You groan, knowing exactly who she means. “Cecilia?”  

Omar scoffs. “Yeah, Cecilia.” His expression darkens slightly, annoyance flickering across his face. “You have to say something, babe. She’s been unbearable this entire week.”  

Daisy nods in agreement. “Seriously. If you don’t, we will.”  

You sigh, adjusting your grip on your shopping bags. It’s not that you haven’t noticed Cecilia’s behavior—how she seems to have made it her personal mission to be as dismissive, condescending, and outright rude as possible. You just…haven’t figured out how to deal with it yet.  

“I’ll think about it,” you say, because that’s all you can promise right now.  

Daisy eyes you like she wants to push the subject, but instead, she reaches out and squeezes your arm. “Alright. Just don’t let her get to you, okay?”  

You nod, giving her a small smile. “I won’t.”  

Omar tilts his head. “Liar.”  

You snort. “Goodnight, Omar.”  

“Goodnight, secret singer,” he teases.  

Daisy gives you a quick hug before stepping back into the cab, and with one last wave, you turn and head into the hotel.  

The warmth of the lobby greets you as you step inside, the scent of polished wood and fresh flowers filling the air. The quiet hum of conversation drifts from the bar, a few guests lounging in the plush chairs near the fireplace.  

You shift your bags onto one arm, your fingers brushing over the handles of the shopping bags as you make your way toward the elevators. The day’s events settle over you like a soft blanket—the shopping, the music, the laughter.  

You feel good.  

Better than you have in days.  

The elevator dings softly as the doors open, and as you step inside, you can’t help but let a small, satisfied smile slip onto your lips.  

Maybe tomorrow will be even better.

You make your way to your room, tap your keycard on the lock and enter. The door clicks shut behind you, muffling the distant hum of the hallway. You exhale slowly, rolling your shoulders as you set your shopping bags down near the dresser. The room is quiet, save for the faint city sounds filtering in through the window—London still alive and buzzing outside, even as exhaustion begins to settle into your bones.  

You flick on the bedside lamp, the soft golden glow washing over the space. Kicking off your shoes, you make your way to the vanity, catching your reflection in the mirror. There’s a tired sort of happiness in your face, a contentment that lingers in your eyes despite the long day.  

You start unpacking your shopping bags, sorting through the few essentials you picked up. The art supplies make you smile—new markers, sketchbooks, things you didn’t necessarily need but wanted anyway. Your fingers brush over a particular bag, and you pause, pulling out the Polaroid photobooth strip you’d nearly forgotten about.  

Pedro’s face grins up at you from the tiny squares—one shot of him making a ridiculous expression, another where you’re both mid-laugh, and the last…  

The last one makes your stomach flutter.  

It wasn’t planned, wasn’t posed—it was just the two of you, caught in a quiet moment, his face turned toward you, his expression soft in a way that makes something in your chest tighten.  

You let out a breath, carefully tucking the photo into your nightstand drawer before shaking your head at yourself.  

It’s fine. It’s just Pedro.  

You brush your fingers over the bracelet you liked—the one you didn’t buy. For some reason, it lingers in your mind longer than it should, but you push the thought aside and continue getting ready for bed.  

By the time you’ve showered and slipped into an oversized t-shirt, exhaustion has fully caught up with you. You slide beneath the cool sheets, letting out a sigh as your body finally relaxes.  

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand.  

You reach for it, blinking at the screen.  

Pedro: Made it back okay?  

A small, involuntary smile tugs at your lips.  

You: Yeah, just got into bed.  

There’s a brief pause before his reply comes through.  

Pedro: Get some sleep, cariño. Big day tomorrow.  

You bite your lip, warmth blooming in your chest at the nickname.  

You: Goodnight, Pedro. 

You don’t wait for his response, setting your phone down and rolling onto your side. The weight of the day settles over you, but it’s lighter now, easier to carry.  

And as you drift off, the last thing on your mind isn’t Cecilia, or the long production days ahead.  

It’s a bracelet you didn’t buy.  

And a Polaroid you won’t forget.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — MORNING  

Your alarm blares, dragging you out of sleep far earlier than you’d like. With a groan, you fumble for your phone on the nightstand, blindly swiping at the screen until the sound finally stops. The room is still dim, the soft glow of early morning creeping through the curtains, casting long shadows across the walls.  

You sit up slowly, rubbing at your bleary eyes before forcing yourself out of bed. The floor is cool against your feet as you shuffle toward the bathroom, yawning through the motions of your morning routine.  

The second your toothbrush is in your mouth, you grab your phone, squinting at the screen as you scroll through your notifications.  

Pedro: Morning, sleepyhead. Still up for coffee?  

You smile around your toothbrush, quickly typing back.  

You: Morning! Yes, definitely. Meet you in the lobby?  

His reply is almost instant.  

Pedro: I’ll be the one looking devastatingly handsome and in desperate need of caffeine.  

You roll your eyes but feel warmth creep up your neck as you set your phone down and step into the shower. The water is warm, waking you up as you let your playlist play softly in the background. You don’t linger too long—just enough to wash away the remnants of sleep before stepping out and wrapping yourself in a towel.  

As you get dressed, you glance at the Polaroid on your nightstand. The memory makes your stomach flutter, but you shake your head, pushing the thought away.  

It’s just Pedro. 

You grab your bag, double-check that you have everything for the long production day ahead, and head downstairs. 

Pedro is already there when you step into the lobby, leaning casually against the wall near the entrance. He’s dressed comfortably, a hoodie pulled over his curls, sunglasses perched on his nose despite the early hour.  

His head lifts when he spots you, and a slow grin spreads across his face. “Well, look who’s alive.”  

You roll your eyes. “Barely.”  

He chuckles, pushing off the wall. “Coffee. Stat.”  

You nod in agreement as you both step outside, the crisp morning air waking you up a little more. The streets of London are still sleepy, only a few people out at this hour, and for a moment, it feels like the two of you exist in a quiet little pocket of the city.  

Pedro falls into step beside you, close but not overbearing, his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets. “Did you sleep okay?”  

You hum, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “Yeah. I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow.”  

He smirks. “Tired from all that shopping?”  

You side-eye him, but your lips twitch. “Maybe. It was a productive day.”  

“You have fun?”  

You nod. “Yeah. Daisy and Omar were great. We just wandered, picked up a few things, nothing crazy.”  

Pedro hums, glancing over at you. “Get anything good?”  

“Some art supplies,” you say. “Markers, sketchbooks. Stuff to keep my hands busy.”  

Pedro’s brows lift slightly, though his expression softens into something knowing. “Still adding to your collection, huh?”  

You glance at him, a little shy under the weight of his gaze. “You say that like I have a problem.”  

He smirks. “I’ve seen your stash.”  

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch. “It’s not that bad.”  

He hums, clearly unconvinced, but before you can argue your case, you both step into the small café near the hotel. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries wraps around you instantly, sinking into your bones like comfort.  

As you approach the counter, Pedro turns to you with a look of exaggerated concentration. “Alright, let me guess your order.”  

You snort, crossing your arms. “You know my order.”  

“Do I?” He taps a finger against his chin, drawing out the moment. “Let’s see… you’re obviously an iced salted caramel latte girl.”  

You blink at him, half-impressed, half-annoyed. “You’re just showing off.”  

Pedro grins, triumphant. “I knew it.” He turns to the barista, ordering for both of you before you can protest.  

As you wait for your drinks, you lean against the counter, watching him. He looks relaxed, the usual weight of the long days ahead not quite settling on him yet.  

“You always this perceptive?” you ask, tilting your head.  

He glances at you, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Only when it matters.”  

Your stomach flips unexpectedly, and you quickly look away as the barista calls your names.  

Pedro grabs both cups, handing you yours with an easy smile. “Alright, let’s get to set before they start sending search parties.”  

You take a sip, the sweet caramel mixing with the bitter espresso, and let the warmth settle in—not just from the coffee, but from the way Pedro falls into step beside you again, his presence easy, familiar.  

Maybe today will be even better.

The car ride to set is comfortable, the early morning haze still lingering outside the windows. You and Pedro are seated next to each other, the quiet hum of the car filling the spaces between conversation.  

Joseph, Ebon, and Vanessa are preoccupied—chatting, answering messages, scrolling through their phones. But you and Pedro? You exist in the quieter moments, where words don’t have to fill the silence for it to feel full.  

You glance at Pedro from the corner of your eye. He’s leaning back against the seat, fingers wrapped loosely around his coffee cup, sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. There’s something about him like this—relaxed, unreadable, but somehow still entirely present.  

“You’re quiet,” he muses, breaking the silence.  

You blink, caught. “I’m just… waking up.”  

Pedro smirks, tilting his head toward you. “It’s been half an hour.”  

You hum, taking a slow sip of your coffee. “Some of us don’t bounce out of bed with full energy at the crack of dawn.”  

“I do not ‘bounce,’” he protests, dramatically offended. “I drag myself out of bed like the sleep-deprived, overworked adult that I am.”  

You snort. “That’s not what I saw yesterday. You were practically bouncing into set.”  

Pedro shakes his head. “I think you hallucinated that.”  

“Sure,” you say, amused. “Maybe I should sketch it next time.”  

His lips curl at the mention of your sketching, but he doesn’t tease. Instead, his voice dips, quieter now. “Do you still draw at the end of the day? Or are they keeping you too busy?”  

You hesitate, fingers tracing the rim of your cup. “I try to. Helps clear my head.”  

Pedro watches you for a beat, then nods. “Good. You should keep at it.”  

Something about the way he says it, like it actually matters to him, makes warmth spread through your chest. You don’t know how to respond to that, so you just sip your coffee and hope he doesn’t notice the way your fingers tighten around the cup.  

The car slows as it pulls up to the studio lot, and everyone starts gathering their things, stretching, shaking off the sluggishness of the morning. Pedro slides his sunglasses to the top of his head, glancing at you as he opens the door.  

“Ready for another day of pretending we know what we’re doing?” he asks, grin lopsided.  

You laugh, stepping out of the car. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”  

The driver bids you all a good day, and you offer a small wave, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. The familiar buzz of set life fills the air—crew members moving equipment, voices overlapping, the faint sound of someone running lines in the distance.  

Pedro falls into step beside you, and despite the chaos around you, you feel oddly settled. Maybe it’s the coffee. Maybe it’s the warmth of the morning.  

Or maybe it’s just him.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY 

The day stretches long and demanding, filled with the constant hum of movement, orders being called out, and the steady rhythm of set life unfolding around you.  

You and Daisy barely have a moment to breathe, running between departments, making sure everything is where it needs to be. The production schedule is tight, which means there’s no room for mistakes, no time to slow down.  

“Okay, okay, hold up,” Daisy pants, stopping next to you behind the set, hands braced on her knees. “If I have to run across this lot one more time to deliver another prop, I’m throwing myself into the fog machine and disappearing.”  

You huff out a tired laugh, adjusting your headset as you check the call sheet in your hand. “I hate to break it to you, but we still need to get the next set of dailies to the editing bay and make sure wardrobe has the updated continuity notes.”  

Daisy groans dramatically. “How did we get roped into this again?”  

“You volunteered to take extra PA shifts,” you remind her, smirking.  

She scowls. “And you agreed to do it with me, so who’s the real fool here?”  

You nudge her with your elbow before checking your watch. There’s a brief window before the next setup, and you both know better than to waste it. Without another word, you split up—Daisy heads toward the props department, while you weave through the maze of trailers and equipment toward wardrobe.  

The moment you step inside the wardrobe tent, you’re met with the sharp scent of fabric steam and the controlled chaos of stylists making last-minute adjustments.  

“Hey, got the continuity notes from this morning’s shoot,” you say, handing over the folder to one of the assistants.  

They glance up, looking relieved. “Oh, thank God. We were just about to send someone to chase these down.”  

You flash a tired smile. “Happy to save you the trouble.”  

Before you can leave, someone’s headset crackles with an urgent call from set, and you hear your name being mentioned.  

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, already moving.  

By the time you get back to set, Daisy is already there, headset tilted as she listens to the first AD barking orders. She shoots you a look when she sees you approach, her expression somewhere between we’re so screwed and why is everyone like this?  

“What now?” you whisper.  

“They need another PA to help reset the stunt rigging for the next take,” she mutters back. “Guess who gets to be that PA?”  

“Us?”  

“Ding, ding, ding.”  

You sigh, but there’s no use complaining. Instead, you follow Daisy toward the main soundstage, where the crew is resetting for another action sequence. The rigging team waves you over, already handing you harnesses to help secure the area.  

You’ve barely finished clipping things into place when Pedro appears nearby, already in costume, watching the controlled chaos of set. His gaze catches on you, a flicker of recognition in his eyes before amusement settles in.  

“Didn’t realize this was part of your job description,” he teases, arms crossing over his chest.  

You roll your eyes, adjusting the straps on your harness. “I do everything around here.”  

“Clearly,” he says, grinning. “I should start calling you the real MVP of this production.”  

Daisy, overhearing, snorts. “Oh, don’t encourage her. She’s already got enough of a complex.”  

Pedro laughs, and you glare at Daisy, but it’s all in good fun. The truth is, despite the exhaustion, despite the constant running around, there’s something oddly satisfying about the work. It’s not glamorous, not in the way people think movies are made, but it’s real. And you love it.  

Even if, by the time lunch rolls around, you feel like you’ve run a marathon.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON 

You slump onto the nearest empty bench, your limbs aching from the nonstop running around since the crack of dawn. With a tired groan, you twist open a bottle of water and down it in several long gulps, the cool relief barely making up for how drained you feel.  

“I’m so glad I brought an extra change of clothes because holy shit,” you gasp, wiping at the sweat on your forehead.  

Daisy collapses beside you with an equally exhausted sigh, her head lolling back against the table. “If I don’t sit down for the next hour, I might actually pass out standing up.”  

Omar drops into the seat on your other side, groaning dramatically as he takes a long swig from his water bottle. “No, because fuck this,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Why does it feel like production’s been testing our stamina like we’re training for the fucking Olympics?”  

You huff a tired laugh. “Because we are.”  

Nearby, a group of other PAs are in similar states of exhaustion, scarfing down sandwiches like they’ve been starved for days. The entire crew has been running on fumes all morning, juggling stunts, continuity notes, and last-minute script changes.  

You dig into the lunch Daisy had brought back for you—a sandwich and a bag of chips, simple but satisfying. The three of you eat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the occasional sighs of relief from getting off your feet for even a few minutes.  

Eventually, Daisy leans forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “So… have you thought about saying something to the first AD about Cecilia?”  

You nearly choke on your bite of sandwich. "Oh my God, not now.”  

“Yes, now,” Daisy insists. “She’s been a bitch all week, and it’s only getting worse. I swear, if she snaps at you one more time, I’ll throw my walkie at her.”  

Omar nods, chewing thoughtfully. “Yeah, it’s actually getting kinda unbearable.”  

You sigh, pushing your food around with your fork. You know they’re right. Cecilia—one of the senior production assistants—has been making your life hell lately. Every little thing you do is apparently wrong, and her constant nitpicking has started to feel personal.  

“I just…” you hesitate, rubbing at your temples. “I don’t want to make it a bigger deal than it already is. Maybe she’s just stressed?”  

Daisy gives you an unimpressed look. “Stressed my ass. We’re all stressed, babe, and we’re not out here making everyone miserable just because we can.”  

Omar points his fork at you. “Exactly. And look, I get not wanting to stir the pot, but if she keeps treating you like shit, it’s gonna start affecting your work. You need to say something.”  

You bite your lip, mulling it over. You’re not the type to cause a scene, especially when it comes to work—you’ve always just kept your head down and powered through. But this… this has been eating at you for days.  

“I’ll think about it,” you murmur, still unsure.  

Daisy narrows her eyes. “You better do more than think.”  

Before you can respond, the sound of approaching footsteps makes you glance up—only to find Pedro making his way toward your table, two cups of iced coffee in hand.  

“Oh, look who’s finally gracing us with his presence,” Omar teases, smirking.  

Pedro grins, unfazed, before setting one of the iced coffees in front of you. “Thought you could use this.”  

You blink, surprised. “You—” You glance down at the drink, recognizing it immediately. Iced salted caramel latte. Your go-to. “How did you—”  

Pedro shrugs, casual as ever. “You think I don’t pay attention?”  

Your stomach flips, heat creeping up your neck. Daisy and Omar exchange a look before Daisy not-so-subtly nudges you under the table.  

“I—uh, thanks,” you say awkwardly, taking the cup and focusing very hard on the condensation forming on the plastic.  

Pedro watches you with a knowing smile before he turns to the rest of the group. “So, what’s the gossip? What’s got everyone whispering like high schoolers?”  

Daisy doesn’t hesitate. “Oh, just Cecilia being Cecilia.”  

Pedro’s smile fades slightly, his gaze flicking to you. “She still giving you a hard time?”  

You shift uncomfortably, avoiding his eyes. “It’s nothing, really. Just—”  

“It’s not nothing,” Daisy interjects. “She’s been riding her ass all week, and it’s getting ridiculous.”  

Pedro frowns, leaning against the table. “You talked to the AD about it?”  

You sigh. “No, because it’s not that serious—”  

“It is,” Omar cuts in. “You’re working twice as hard as half the people on this set, and she’s still treating you like shit.”  

Pedro’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he wants to say something—something firm, something protective—but instead, he exhales, rolling his shoulders back.  

“Well,” he says finally, voice measured, “if you don’t want to bring it up, at least let me know if she crosses the line again.”  

You glance up at him, the warmth in his gaze soft but serious. There’s something reassuring about it, like he’s quietly telling you that he’s in your corner, no matter what.  

Your chest tightens, and for a second, you don’t know what to say.  

Daisy, of course, fills the silence for you. “Damn, maybe you should just let Pedro handle it,” she jokes, wiggling her brows. “Bet she’d shut up real quick if he just—”  

“Daisy,” you hiss, mortified.  

Pedro chuckles, but there’s a hint of mischief in his eyes. “I mean… I could have a word with her.”  

“Oh my God, no.” You shake your head rapidly. “That would just make it worse.”  

“Debatable.”  

“I swear to God—”  

He laughs, hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll stay out of it.” A pause. “For now.”  

You groan, but there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before.  

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON 

The day isn’t over yet.  

After lunch, you’re right back at it, running around set, checking call sheets, adjusting rigging equipment, and making sure everything is in place for the next round of stunt rehearsals. You, Daisy, and Omar move like a well-oiled machine, setting up wires and double-checking safety protocols.  

Matt Shakman, ever the observant director, watches from a distance, arms crossed and a satisfied nod of approval on his face. “You three are killing it today,” he says, passing by as you finish tightening a harness.  

“Thanks, Matt,” Daisy beams, nudging you playfully. “We try.” ��

Jess Hall, the first assistant director, chimes in, “Seriously, you guys have been on top of everything. Keep this up, and I might actually sleep well tonight.”  

You let out a small, shy laugh, ducking your head. “Just doing our job.”  

“Yeah, but you’re doing it well,” Jess points out, before heading off to oversee the final checks.  

As you straighten up, rolling out the tension in your shoulders, you spot Pedro, Vanessa, Ebon, and Joseph arriving on set. Pedro catches your eye first, grinning as he waves. The others follow suit, greeting you and the crew with casual waves and easy smiles.  

You lift a hand in return, a small but warm flutter in your chest.  

And then there’s Cecilia.  

Standing off to the side, arms crossed, face like thunder.  

You don’t even have to look directly at her to feel the glare she’s boring into you. The barely contained resentment. It’s been like this all day—every time you do something right, every time you get even a sliver of recognition, she seems to grow more and more pissed.  

But you push it out of your mind.  

You have a job to do.  

And right now, that means making sure this next stunt goes off without a hitch.  

The rigging for the next scene is extensive—multiple actors wired up, intricate movements choreographed down to the second. You’re double-checking the setup, securing a final carabiner when someone calls for places.  

“Alright, let’s lock it up!” Jess shouts. “Rolling in five!”  

You step back, joining Daisy and Omar off to the side, scanning the setup one last time. Everything looks solid. No loose wires. No unsecured equipment.  

At least, that’s what you think.  

Then—  

A blur. A crack. A scream.  

It happens too fast.  

Something above shifts—maybe a light, maybe part of the set structure—but it’s falling, fast and heavy, right where Pedro is standing.  

Your body moves before your brain does.  

“Move!”  

You shove Pedro with both hands, hard, sending him stumbling out of the way just as the metal rig comes crashing down.  

The impact never comes.  

Not for him, at least.  

Pain explodes across your shoulder, sharp and jarring, but adrenaline surges through you, numbing everything as chaos erupts around you.  

“Jesus Christ—”  

“Someone get a medic—”  

Voices blur together. There’s movement, hands reaching for you, but you’re not even thinking about yourself.  

You blink up at Pedro, his face inches from yours, panic written in every crease of his expression.  

"Are you good?" you ask, voice tight, breath coming faster now.  

Pedro just stares at you, jaw clenched, eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to process what just happened.  

Then he swallows, hard. “Am I—?” His voice is strained. “You’re the one who—”  

He doesn’t finish, just reaches for you, steadying you as a medic pushes through the small crowd that’s formed around you.  

It’s only then that you notice—  

The blood.  

Your sleeve is torn. There’s a gash on your arm, deep and angry-looking, but you barely feel it.  

Pedro does.  

His grip on you tightens, like he’s just realizing how close that was. Like he’s just realizing you took the hit for him.

You don’t register the pain at first. The adrenaline drowns it out, buzzing through your veins like white noise, making everything feel strangely detached—like you’re floating just outside your body, watching everything unfold in slow motion.  

But Pedro’s grip on you is very real.  

“Shit, shit, shit—” His voice is low, strained, hands hovering over you like he doesn’t know where to touch, afraid he’ll make it worse. His eyes flicker between your face and your arm, widening at the sight of the torn fabric, the deep gash beneath it.  

“I’m fine,” you mumble, blinking rapidly as the world tilts slightly. “You’re fine. That’s what matters.”  

Pedro exhales sharply, jaw tightening. He looks anything but reassured.  

The medic finally pushes through the crowd, dropping to his knees beside you. “Let me see,” he says, already reaching for your arm.  

“I’m good—” you try to insist, but Pedro gives you a look. A look that immediately shuts you up.  

A storm of emotion brews behind his eyes—concern, anger, something else you can’t quite name yet. He’s tense, his entire body coiled like a spring.  

You feel a little dizzy. Maybe it’s the blood loss. Maybe it’s the fact that Pedro is looking at you like that, like he cares too much.  

“Alright, this is gonna sting,” the medic warns before pressing gauze against the wound.  

It does more than sting. A sharp, searing pain shoots through your arm, and you hiss through your teeth, eyes squeezing shut for a second.  

Pedro flinches. Actually flinches, like he felt it too.  

“Fucking hell,” Daisy breathes from behind him. She’s pale, wide-eyed. “That thing could’ve crushed you.”  

Omar nods, face just as grim. “Yeah, what the hell even happened?”  

There’s a murmur of agreement from the other crew members gathered around, voices overlapping in hushed confusion. Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.  

The rig had been checked. The lights had been secured.  

So why did it fall?  

You glance toward the area where the rigging had come loose. Something gnaws at the back of your mind—an unease you can’t quite name. Your gaze flickers briefly toward Cecilia, who stands a little too still, a little too composed.  

She doesn’t look shocked.  

She looks… interested.  

Like she’s watching.  

And then, as if she senses you looking, she tilts her head slightly—just a fraction—before turning away.  

A chill snakes down your spine.  

“Hey.” Pedro’s voice pulls you back. He’s crouched next to you, closer now, his hand still hovering near yours but not quite touching. His knee almost brushes against yours. “You with me?”  

Your breath hitches.  

You hate how he does that—how he sees you so easily, how he pulls you back from the edges of your own mind with nothing but a word, a glance.  

“I’m good,” you say, voice quieter than before.  

Pedro’s expression darkens, like he doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he turns his attention back to the medic. “She needs stitches, right?”  

The medic nods. “Yeah. We’ll need to get her patched up properly.”  

Pedro exhales through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He looks like he wants to hit something.  

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter.  

“Like what?”  

“Like I just died in front of you or something.”  

Pedro does not laugh. In fact, he looks even more tense, if that’s possible.  

“You could have,” he says, voice low. “If you hadn’t moved so fast, that thing—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have done that.”  

“I shouldn’t have saved you?” you arch a brow. “I didn’t realize that was a bad thing.”  

Pedro levels you with a look, one that sends heat crawling up your spine. “You know what I mean.”  

There’s something charged in the air between you. A tension neither of you acknowledge, but it’s there, lingering like the static before a storm.  

Jess Hall calls for a short break while the crew inspects the rigging failure. People start to disperse, murmuring about safety protocols and near-misses.  

But Pedro doesn’t move.  

Neither do you.  

The medic finishes wrapping your arm in temporary bandages. “She should get properly stitched up in the medical tent.”  

Pedro stands before you can even process that. “I’ll take her.”  

You blink. “That’s not necessary—”  

“Not asking,” Pedro says, holding out a hand to help you up.  

You hesitate, but the moment your fingers brush against his, the warmth of his palm against yours, you stop thinking.  

He pulls you up carefully, keeping you steady when you sway slightly on your feet. His grip lingers—just a little too long.  

And when you finally look up at him, there’s something in his expression that makes your stomach twist.  

Something unspoken. Something more.  

Something you don’t have the words for yet.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MEDICAL TENT 

The walk to the medical tent is quiet.  

Pedro hasn’t let go of you. His hand hovers near your lower back, not quite touching but close enough that you feel him there—like a tether, grounding you.  

You should say something, maybe make a joke, lighten the mood. But the words don’t come. Your arm is starting to throb now, the sharp edge of pain creeping in as the adrenaline fades. You exhale slowly, focusing on each step forward.  

Pedro doesn’t rush you. He matches your pace, his brows drawn tight, his jaw locked so hard you can see the muscle tick.  

You swallow.  

“I mean,” you start, forcing out a breathy laugh, “at least I’m lucky insurance covers this.”  

Pedro stops.  

Just—stops.  

You nearly stumble, caught off guard, but when you turn to look at him, the expression on his face roots you to the spot.  

His eyes flicker over you, frustration darkening his gaze. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” His voice is tight, controlled, but there’s an edge to it. “Insurance?”  

You blink. “I mean… yeah?”  

Pedro exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. He looks like he’s about to say something else, but then he presses his lips into a firm line, nostrils flaring.  

You watch the way his shoulders rise and fall with the weight of whatever he’s holding back.  

And suddenly, you get it.  

He’s mad.  

Not at you. Not really.  

He’s mad that you got hurt. Mad that you shoved him out of the way instead of letting him take the hit. Mad that he almost lost you—over a fucking light rig.  

Your chest tightens.  

“Pedro—”  

“Don’t.” His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. He looks away, shaking his head. “You scared the shit out of me.”  

Your throat feels thick. “I—”  

“I saw that thing falling, and I couldn’t move—I couldn’t do anything. And then you—” He cuts himself off, dragging a hand down his face. “Christ.”  

Your fingers twitch at your side. You don’t know what to do with this—this version of him. The one unraveling right in front of you.  

“I didn’t think,” you admit, voice small. “I just—moved.”  

Pedro lets out a quiet, bitter laugh. “Yeah. You did.”  

There’s a beat of silence. A moment where the world around you fades, leaving only the two of you standing there in the dimly lit corridor just outside the medical tent.  

Then—  

Pedro takes a step closer.  

And another.  

Your breath catches.  

His eyes search yours, something raw flickering beneath the surface. He looks at you like he’s memorizing you, like he’s trying to commit this exact moment to something permanent.  

You don’t move. You can’t.  

Then, barely above a whisper—  

“Don’t do that again.”  

You part your lips to respond, but before you can say anything—  

Pedro cups your face.  

And then—  

He doesn’t kiss you.  

He hesitates. His breath is warm against your lips, his fingers trembling slightly where they rest against your jaw. He’s so close you can count every fleck of gold in his eyes, so close you can feel the way his chest rises and falls against yours.  

You exhale, something between relief and longing tightening in your stomach.  

Then—a sharp ahem cuts through the moment.  

You jolt, heart still racing, as Pedro pulls back slightly—just enough to let you breathe, but not enough to let you go. His hands remain where they are, warm and steady against your skin.  

The medic staff is standing in the doorway, arms crossed, one brow arched like they’ve seen this kind of thing play out before.  

“Hate to break up the moment,” they say, voice dry, “but I have some stitches to put in.”  

You blink.  

Right.  

The pain in your arm, dulled by adrenaline and—well, Pedro—suddenly makes itself known again, pulsing in time with your heartbeat. You wince, shifting slightly, and Pedro’s hands immediately fall away.  

But he doesn’t step back.  

If anything, he lingers, his fingers ghosting over your wrist like he’s reluctant to break contact entirely. His brows furrow as he glances down at your injury. “She’s not gonna need the ER, right?”  

The medic shakes their head. “Nah. She’s lucky. It’s a clean cut—deep, but nothing life-threatening. We’ll get her stitched up, give her some pain meds, and she’ll live to tell the tale.”  

Pedro exhales, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. But not all of it.  

You try to make a joke. “Told you I had good insurance.”  

Pedro doesn’t laugh.  

Instead, he just looks at you.  

The kind of look that makes your breath catch, that makes your chest feel too tight, that makes you ache in a way that has nothing to do with your injury.  

He doesn’t say anything, but his hand finds yours again, his fingers curling around yours. He squeezes, just once, before letting go.  

“Come on,” the medic says, gesturing toward the exam table. “Let’s get this over with.”  

You try really hard to be tough about the whole thing.  

You really do.  

But the moment the needle pierces your skin, you can’t help it—your breath stutters, your body tensing so hard it actually hurts.  

“Hey,” Pedro’s voice is right there, warm and grounding. His hand finds your knee, rubbing gentle circles over the fabric of your pants. “Breathe, cariño.”  

You suck in a sharp breath through your nose, blinking rapidly against the sting behind your eyes.  

God, this is so stupid. You literally work on a film set—you’ve seen worse injuries, watched stunt performers brush off things ten times more intense. But the sensation of the needle threading through your skin, pulling tight with every stitch, is enough to make your stomach turn.  

Pedro must see it written all over your face, because before you can spiral too much, he shifts, crouching beside you so you’re eye level. His voice drops lower, softer.  

“You’re doing good,” he murmurs. “Just a little more.”  

You nod, swallowing against the lump in your throat.  

The medic works quickly, but it still feels like forever. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to think of something else. Anything else.  

Pedro.  

The way he looked at you before he almost kissed you.  

The way he held you.  

The way he’s still here, watching over you like he has no intention of going anywhere.  

“Almost done,” the medic announces, tying off the last stitch. “You’re a champ. Didn’t even cry.”  

Barely.  

Pedro doesn’t let go of you. His thumb brushes over your knee one last time before he finally stands, watching as the medic cleans up and starts giving you aftercare instructions.  

“No lifting anything heavy for a few days. Keep it clean, change the dressing daily. Try not to move your arm too much—don’t want to pull the stitches.” The medic pauses, glancing between you and Pedro with something suspiciously close to amusement. “And get some rest. I mean actual rest. No overworking yourself.”  

Pedro snorts. “Yeah, good luck with that.”  

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined by how utterly exhausted you feel. The medic finishes up, giving you some painkillers and a fresh bandage before stepping back.  

“You’re good to go,” they say. “But seriously—take it easy.”  

Pedro notices.  

Before you can protest, he’s already there, an arm sliding around your waist to steady you. “Alright, that’s enough excitement for one day,” he mutters. “Come on, I’m taking you back to the hotel.”

End Notes:

I’m a sucker for having character A get injured and character B absolutely losing their shit and realizing they could lose them SO FAST and they haven’t even had a chance to love each other yet LOL

YAHHH I KEEP TEASING YA’LL WITH THE KISS IM SORRY— But I swear it’ll probably happen in the next chapter... maybe... 👀

There’s something wonderful about delayed gratification idk why

Pedro probably didn’t want to kiss you in such a situation like that– he’s probs the type to want to do it right.

Also OOoooOOOoo I almost killed the reader lol. How fun.

Again, my apologies for taking so long with this chapter, school is a bitch and I had to lock tf in for a little bit.

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy @widowsvail @senhoritamayblog @morganlolitta @suzysface @reidsworld @xmaykeca @dontlookatme121 @mandaloriankait @picketniffler @pedrofan @mystickittytaco @enchantingchildkitten @seven-seas-of-fuck-you @ro-nahime-things @senhoritamayblog @hermionelove

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

why praising someone’s fic while at the same time tearing down other writers’ fics may not be the positive comment you think it is

first of all, I feel like I should be bringing this up because I’ve gotten comments where people praise my works (which I appreciate) while in those same comments they later say what they dislike about other writers’ fanfics, in a rather harsh manner, and while I know my commenters probably don’t have any ill intentions towards me, and while they never actually name the writers whose works they don’t like, I still don’t agree with and I certainly don’t condone the way they trash talk other writers’ fanfics either. so I think I should just bring this up, not to attack or target anyone specifically, but to hopefully make general readers see why comments like these are… not actually helpful to anybody.

before we begin, I also like to humbly point out that comments I’m talking about aren’t “oh it’s so hard to find a fic this good” or “your work is better than most of the fics I’ve read” because personally I think comments like these are harmless, not because I think my fic is “that good”, not because I think my work is “better than others”, but because no other writers were insulted and if my readers say they prefer my work — it’s all personal preference — then I’m honored, and the last thing I wanna be is a Comment Police, but I’ve unfortunately seen a lot of comments, especially lately, where other writers were rudely insulted in the name of praising the writer whose work is being commented on. I’m not gonna provide screenshots because I’m not gonna put a target on anybody’s back, but here’s to give an example of what I’m talking about,

“I like your work so much. It’s so hard to find a fic this good when most of the (insert character’s name) fics I’ve read are so bad and so out of character. I hate when some writers write (insert character’s name) as some sort of (x) and (insert another character’s name) as some (x), I think it’s so out of characters and so cringe that it physically makes me want to throw my laptop away. It feels like reading a garbage written by a bunch of five year-old kids or something. I wish I could set those trash on fire. Your work is not like those shitty fics though and it’s amazing to finally see a good fic.”

this is the kind of comments I’m talking about. because for me, personally, I don’t actually feel good receiving a comment like this, even though the commenter praises me and never actually mentions other writers, whose works they dislike, by names.

and again, the last thing I ever wanna be is a Comment Police, because I usually appreciate every comment I got, no matter if it’s just a heart emoji or a simple sentence like “I liked this”, I love and appreciate them all. but here we go;

WHY INSULTING OTHER WRITERS IN THE NAME OF PRAISING A WRITER WHOSE WORK YOU COMMENT ON IS NOT A POSITIVE COMMENT

comment like this can put a harmful pressure on the writer whom you praised and make them think that they now have to be extra careful to make sure their work is “good enough to please you”, otherwise they might get torn to shreds too. and instead of writing for themself for fun, which should be the most important thing about writing fanfics, they now feel like they have to write because they have to be good enough to earn their readers’ approval. and that just sucks out all the joy of doing something that was supposed to be a hobby, something writers do out of love and passion and not because they were pressured into doing, not because they were pressured into “being good enough and staying good enough”.

“if you’re this comfortable insulting other writers under my work, how can I know you’re not insulting me and my work under someone else’s comments section?” is a valid thought the writer you praised may have, even if they were too polite to tell you that.

“I hate when some writers write (insert character’s name) as some sort of (x) and (insert another character’s name) as some (x), I think it’s so out of characters and so cringe that it physically makes me want to throw my phone away.” how do you know the writer you praised hasn’t already written something like this in their drafts? how do you know they don’t plan on writing something that you deem “cringe and out of character”? it may not be your intention, but your comment certainly can be read as a subtle “hey, don’t you dare write something like this because I don’t like it!!!! I better not see it from you!!!” I shouldn’t have to tell you how entitled this is.

“this is so out of character” if a writer wants to write their favorite character like this, they can. why? because they write whatever they want and they write for themself, not for you.

fanfiction is not — and never will be — your average novel you see while visiting a bookstore, buy it with your money and bitch about it when it turns out the book is not to your liking. because fanfiction is free. fanfic writers write for themselves and for fun. fanfic writers write whatever they wanna write, because they themselves are their own primary audiences. not you. they’re only kind enough to share with you their works. for free. if you dislike a fic, keep that to yourself and move on to something you do like. don’t be entitled by insulting something you got for free, something that wasn’t even made for you at all.

you obviously can dislike a fic. of course, it’s your opinion. I mean I won’t say I like every fic I’ve ever read, but the thing about disliking a fic is that you can just exit said fic, forget about it and move on to something else without feeling the need to insult the work or the writer, be it directly or indirectly, because, again, fanfiction is not a movie you watch on Netflix or a book you bought with your money. fanfiction is an art, a hobby and a passion created by an artist for the artist themself.

a reminder that comments are public for everyone to see, not just the writer you praise. so while you didn’t mention any other writers whom you insulted by names, there’s always a chance of innocent writers finding your comment and thinking the part where you insult other writers’ works is about their works. and that can very negatively affect them too.

fanfiction doesn’t have to be “good enough for you, random reader”. fanfiction just has to bring the writers joy. and that’s what make a fic good enough.

if you really enjoy someone’s work, tell them that you enjoy their work, tell them what you like about their work. don’t turn their comments section into your own space where you can vent and trash talk other writers, because you are bringing that negativity to the writer whose work you said you enjoyed. and I can only speak for myself but, as a writer, I don’t enjoy seeing my comments section turn into a negative and unkind space where my fellow writers are being insulted.

[undeadcannibal]

there's a trend on tiktok where a woman makes dinner and gives herself barely any compared to her partner and says "that's all we had left" when they notice it to get the partner's reaction. i would love to see how you think the members of the 141 would react to the reader doing this (or something similar) 🤭 if this is too specific or just not your thing feel free to ignore it! love your writing though :)

Summary: 141 Guys reactions to you giving yourself a smaller amount of food as a prank.

Genre: drabble, request(s)

Warnings: none

Word count: 950

A/N: Thank you for the request, Anon! I hope you - and the readers - enjoy! ( Gif credit: xxx )

Price

Oh, do not even play with this man when it comes to keeping his partner happy and fed.

He's always excited for whatever dinner you've decided to make, thankful for anything.

John's ready to thank you for the meal and dig in when he notices your plate once you sit down.

His gaze flits back and forth from your plate to his, immediately catching onto the portion difference between the two of you. His plate is well covered with generous portions of food, and yours? Such a pitiful amount, you'd think it was fit for a bird to peck at. 

"It was all we had left." You explain as you grab your utensils to start your meal when John immediately reaches over and grabs yours. Placing down to replace his dish as he swaps it out for his own. Ensuring you had the bigger portion. 

"John--" Wordlessly, he takes what he can; eating, chewing, then swallowing and smiling as if nothing was wrong. 

"Delicious as always, hun." 

You can't even argue with him as he silences you with a lift of his finger. "Don't even think of squabblin' with me over it."

Soap

Johnny adored a heaping portion of home cooked food made with love.

It reminded him of simpler times, soothed his soul in a way he couldn't quite describe with words. 

Your food was unlike anything he'd had before, how could he refuse such an opportunity as eating a meal you made specifically for him? 

While he was talking your ear off about anything that sprung to mind, he was happy to see you strolling over with plates of scrumptious food. His mouth was already watering at the scent wafting his way. He was rubbing his hands together in anticipation of savoring every bite, he paused. 

His plate was stacked quite generously - that was normal - but yours lacked much less than his. To the point he was sure he was making a concerned expression on his face, your head tilting ever so slightly at his confusion.

"We didn't have much left after I fixed your plate. It's okay!" You tried reassuring him. 

Despite your attempts to fight off his hand sneaking its way over towards your plate, he softly huffed at you. His fingers managed to get a tight grip on your plate. 

"Lass... Don't you dare." 

You crossed your arms at your chest. "Oh? Dare, what? I'm just being a good host!" You defended. 

Johnny merely shook his head, distracting you as he shifted your plate over to his side, then pushing his over to yours. 

"I'll be damned if you think you're gettin' away with eatin' less than me." 

Ghost 

Simon would never turn down your offer of a home cooked meal. 

So, when you're bringing over the plates so the two of you can eat a meal together, he's catching on right away. Noticing the way one hand looks like it's weighed down more than the other. 

Not long after you set the plates down, Simon's glaring at you, not daring to look away until you explain yourself. 

"What?" You ask before you take a sip of your beverage, matching his gaze and not backing down. "I wanted to make sure you were fed well and didn't have much left, so I just gave myself the smaller portion. Is there a problem?"

"Absolutely." He answered. 

He doesn't even bother with your feeble attempts at arguing, insisting that he keeps the well-filled plate to himself. He doesn't give a single shit as reaching over, easily overwhelming your own grip as he takes it from you. Shoving the heavier plate towards you. 

Ignoring you in favor of blinking silently, Simon merely shrugs, and then begins to eat the small amount he'd taken over what he was given. Thankful for anything that wasn't the scraps they gave him, or what he was used to before. Careless of how much he got. 

He'd survived on much less. 

"Quit your squawkin', bird. Eat your food or I'll have to feed ya' m'self." 

Gaz

It's a rare occasion that Kyle allows you to serve him rather than the other way around. 

He can't complain about the opportunity to get a good meal and relax for a while though. 

As he's sitting at the table, telling you tales of what him and the rest of the squad have been through - at least what he's able to - he's watching as you finish. Turning his back just as you begin to plate everything. 

He's taking a drink of his water right when you arrive, hands filled with each of your plates as you place his in front of him and yours down at your side. 

He nearly chokes on his water once he notices just how much you gave him... and how little you gave yourself. 

After he swallows the water that nearly asphyxiated him, he clears his throat, smiling softly at you. 

"Love?" 

"Yes?" You reply, doing your best to stop the smile that threatened to break out on your face. 

"What's with... this?" He asked, referencing the portions on the plates with a back and forth gesture of his hand. 

"Oh, after I made your plate, I didn't have much left so I just gave myself what we did have. Don't sweat it!" You insisted, waving him off. 

"Oh. Okay..." Kyle replied. After a moment of silence, he looked at you, asking if you'd refill his glass - to which he knew you'd expect - and once you'd turn away, he's quick to switch the plates. Happily settling for the tiny portion so you'd be well fed. 

"Kyle!" You groan.

"Oh, hush. Did you really think I'd let you get away with that?" He explains with a cheeky grin on his face.

[transmaverique]

[img id

screenshots of a portion of the linked work. reads as follows:

“I hated that essay,” he says to me, “about femmes who care for you when you travel; I really hated it.” And when I ask why he tells me that he thinks it sounds like all butches should be soothed by femmes, and vice versa; he says, “Why would those femmes have assumed that you were a butch who liked femmes?” He says, “Maybe you’re a faggot butch, did they even consider that?” He says, “I know you’re not just for femmes.”

That’s what he says, but I know what he’s thinking. And even though I know how dangerous it is to assume I know what someone is thinking, I know this butch maybe as well as I know myself, and he’s thinking, “Fuck you, for having it easy even in being queer. Fuck you for going along on your happy little way to San Francisco and finding a bunch of femmes who see you as a big stud-duck butch and just want to pour themselves through your fingers. It’s just as hard to be a faggot butch as it is to be any kind of fag.”

There’s all that masculinity to consider when you want to rub up against someone, like that old joke about porcupines:

How do porcupines mate? Very carefully.

He’s saying, “I want to show up at brunch someplace and assume that anyone who I want to flirt with will want to flirt back, and will do it, will want to, without fear of recrimination from hir community. I want you to put something in that book of yours for me. I am a butch whose identity, sexual or otherwise, has nothing to do with femmes. They are not my natural partners in this gender crime the way they are yours. I wake and sleep in the arms of butches like me, butches who understand a whole host of things about my life, my world, the way I see things, the way things affect me that no one else could understand. Write about us. Write that we have sweet, hot sex in which no one has to put on a pair of panties, or take them off; write about how good it feels when ze fucks me hard, so hard. Write about how it feels to fall asleep with the weight of a butch on you, one tattooed arm and one furry leg pinning you down and grounding you in your sleep.

“Write about all the ways in which butches care for each other, comfort each other. Write about how we understand all the shit that comes in the world for our partners and salve it as best we can, about how I have all the more respect for hir because of all I know it takes to survive as a butch.

“Write about how, as soon as butches were no longer the scourge of dykedom for aping masculinity, or whatever that baloney was, it became faggot butches who were scorned and derided. Everyone understands butch/femme because it seems familiar, like Ozzie and Harriet but with better hair and more pussy. Everyone understands femme on femme, even though you don’t see it all that often cause it doesn’t read queer, you know, but it’s in the first images of ‘lesbian love’ most of us see, in porn or on television. Two longhaired pretty girls smooching in a daring fashion wherever they happen to be. No one’s threatened by that, not the dykes, not the men, nobody, but if I want to kiss my butch anywhere, I’d better be damn sure of my audience, or better yet, be sure we don’t have one.

“I can be a butch without opening doors for girls,” he’s saying. “I can do it even if I follow while dancing, I can do it without spending my Saturday afternoons as a femme’s shopping bottom at the mall and do. I am. I am honorable, I take good care of the people I love as well as I possibly can; I watch out for my community. I have a butch heart full of love that I can express when I feel safe enough; I walk in the world resisting gender norms and transgressing gender rules, transcending them. I am fixing whatever I can, whenever I can, and I laugh, and play, and let the spaces in my masculinity show, just like you, just like every butch. I get all slicked up for a date in a suit and tie and I pick up my date, also in a suit and tie, and we just open the door if we get to it first and we take turns paying, and it doesn’t make me less a butch. It doesn’t make me less of anything. It doesn’t mean that I don’t think femmes are swell, I surely do, but they are not my salvation when I travel, they are not the North of my heart’s compass. That’s butches for me, and I will always go a little weak when I see someone who looks scared and hardened and delighted and ashamed and proud—proud, just like me.

“You’re writing a book? Of course, I’m glad, but don’t chicken out. Don’t write a book that speaks so many volumes about your adoration for femmes that it leaves out the ways in which I know you cherish butches too. Yes, not the same way as you cherish femmes, entirely differently, butches and femmes are different creatures, sure, but I don’t just mean how glad you are and always will be to have butch brothers, a butch tribe. I mean, make sure you don’t forget to mention that you put butches on their knees in front of you and enjoy them, that you kneel down too, that you sit sometimes stunned by how much you want to lick a buzz cut or a hot tattoo, that you know what a great grace it is to fall asleep next to a butch’s heart and muscle and skin and ink and fur, that you understand how wonderful it can be to feel butch arms around you. Make sure you mention me, make sure you give me and my lovers and my life the same benefit of some of your words, make sure you don’t write another book that leaves us on the cutting-room floor. Give us a place on the landscape, help us become visible. Say this: Say that when butches love butches they hold lightning between them, but that as much as it burns it also illuminates. That it’s the sweetest burn I’ve ever known in my life of searing pain, that it keeps me from feeling the flames of the world’s hate licking the soles of my boots, that I hold it in my heart and it fuels me every day. Say that it shows me things I could never see any other way, that without it I would grow cold and die. Say that there is nothing else I would rather be.”

/end id]

butch is a noun, s. bear bergman 2006

[fairestwriting]

Hi! Could I request Diasomnia with a reader who got injured but is too stubborn to let them help? Idk if you do platonic works but I would prefer this was. Romantic is fine tho :) have a nice day

i do write platonic relationships yeah! i wrote this one thinking of the reader more like their close friend but if someone wants to interpret it as a crush thing i think it could work too. i hope you have a nice day too <3

𐙚 Malleus Draconia

Malleus has enough common sense to not lose his mind over little scrapes, even though he’d honestly still want you to put a bandaid over it. But having mentioned that before, and receiving your very firm response that it was fine, he got the message that you might not like being fussed over.

So he mostly doesn’t voice these thoughts. He doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, and he does know certain things really are so minor that it won’t make that much of a difference if you try to care for it or not. Even in a human body, which is still something that’s sort of a mystery to him.

But, for that precise reason of him not fully understanding the human healing process, if anything bleeds, or looks noticeably red, he refuses to leave you alone about it. You can still see some hesitancy in his eyes, not wanting to overstep any boundaries, but it’s outweighed by worry. ”What if it gets infected, though? Are you sure you don’t want to at least bandage it?” He’s heard infections can get pretty serious, even if they’re very minor at first.

If all other arguments fail to reach you, he’ll ask if you could take care of it for his sake. Because he really hates to see you hurt, so could you just consider making sure it’ll heal faster? He’ll say that even over something like a nastier than average hand burn from cooking, and so honestly too — it’ll really put your stubbornness to test, regardless of how strong it is.

𐙚 Lilia Vanrouge

His knowledge on human injuries is, frankly, a bit all over the place. It’s hard to remember what’s serious and what isn’t when he’s been around for so long, and gotten so many injuries of his own. Sometimes he unconsciously projects his own body’s recovery ability onto others.

Now, that doesn’t mean he’ll be any sort of neglectful of your injuries, though. On the contrary, he insists on personally patching you up every time he catches a glimpse of one. ”Hmm, you don’t want to bother with it? That’s okay. I’ll do it for you, just hold still.” He’s smiling as he talks, not even giving you a chance to properly say no before he’s already taking a closer look at the injury. His grip is too strong for you to pull away, even if it isn’t forceful at all…

When it comes to things like scratches, it’s more of a playful show of affection. He does know it won’t kill you, it doesn’t really need that bandaid and certainly not the little kiss he places over it after— He just wants to show that he cares for you. If you find it flustering that’s just a bonus. And yes, he will still do it even if you’re just friends, just in a more parental sort of way, unless you tell him it genuinely makes you uncomfortable.

If it’s more serious, the sort of thing that could actually cause an infection if not taken care of properly, he’s not as lighthearted. He does still joke a little about how you don’t have to worry about a thing because he’s here to care for you, but mostly to keep the mood light, especially if it looks like something he’d have to take you to the nurse to properly care for. Lilia wonders why you’re so stubborn about the whole thing, maybe it’s a matter of not wanting to seem weak? He hopes you’ll feel more at ease with him, eventually.

𐙚 Silver

To nobody’s surprise, he’ll likely be the most easygoing and knowledgeable of the bunch. There’s no species difference factor at play here, he’s very aware of what can be dangerous if left untreated and what can’t.

He does point out injuries and ask about them if he notices them, no matter how small, but it’s more of an expression of caring about you in general rather than specifically worrying that the bad scrape you got from tripping could make you deathly ill. It won’t really alarm him when you tell him it’s not a big deal, or it doesn’t even hurt. He’ll at most remind you to keep it away from dirt and then drop the subject.

Silver is very quick to recognize what could truly be potentially dangerous, though. Lilia taught him the basics of first aid when he was pretty young, and he later went on to study it in more depth as part of his training. The way he notices and points out things might even come off strange, because he’s usually so laid back in every aspect. Before you can dismiss him he’s already listing all the reasons why your “little scratch” is looking a bit off putting.

Still, he doesn’t want to pressure you, so it might create a bit of a dilemma in his mind when you keep insisting it’s fine. ”I’m being serious here, I’m not trying to annoy you. It’s not supposed to be this red. If you don’t want to see the nurse, at least let me help.” He’ll argue, and he can get pretty firm, but he’ll never cross the line into outright scolding you. You sound honestly careless to him, but he feels like there must be a reason for you to feel that way, and he doesn’t want to pry.

𐙚 Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is about as educated in the topic as Silver, and the difference between how your body recovers from injuries versus his is pretty minimal compared to people like Malleus or Lilia. But. Well. It is Sebek. You can’t really expect him to just let it go, if he likes you enough to consider you at least a friend. He’s just not someone who can be any sort of laid back with those he cares about.

Even though he knows so much about the theory, he does actually get worried if you hurt yourself. Yes, he’s aware that just because the cut you got from peeling some fruit bled a little bit, it doesn’t mean it’s going to get infected if you don’t clean and bandage it within an hour. But every body can be so different, even within the same (or similar) species! Besides, he’s read that poor immune system function can contribute to wounds getting easily infected— And how is he supposed to tell if your immune system is doing perfectly fine, if you’re so guarded even with small injuries. You’d try to hide it if you were feeling sick too, woldn’t you?

Even though he’s the youngest in this group, he’s the one who really comes off like some kind of… nagging parent or overprotective older sibling. Hell, he might even be younger than you, but he’s still pulling bandaids and antiseptic seemingly out of nowhere and scolding you for not taking care of yourself. “You were already careless enough to get hurt, and now you want to just leave it like that?!” He balks at your insistence that it wasn’t a big deal, he didn’t have to do anything or even worry, you’ve dealt with things like that before— Yeah, he’s not listening to any of that.

He might end up overstepping your boundaries a bit in the process, but he really does mean well. It just makes him anxious to see you dismissing your own safety like that, and that makes it hard to try to understand your perspective, whatever it is. You know him well enough to be aware that all the fussing just happens because he cares, and not because he’s genuinely trying to make you feel bad for getting hurt and not wanting to accept help with patching yourself up. If it does end up upsetting you, he’ll be understanding if you bring it up later.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[areislol]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤlove varies

►— pairings. al haitham, ayato, zhongli, xiao x gn! reader

►— warnings. fluff, lowercase intended, nothing that i know of

►— a/n. do i love writing other unrelated things instead of focusing on my series? ... unfortunately yes.

►— wordcount. 2.8k

►— synopsis. how did they know they were in love with you?

al haitham — when he realizes the gnawing sensations and butterflies in his stomach won't go away.

al haitham's aloof and stoic, we all know that. he spends his days reading books and doing his (scribe) duties, he has no time for love or relationships, nor is he interested. but why is it every time you're around he feels this... bubbling feeling in the pit of his stomach? why is it that every time your gaze wanders off and locks eye contact with him does he feel so hot and bothered? he would push his thoughts and feelings aside, it was nothing more than a sickness of some sort.

al haitham prides himself on his logical approach to life. emotions, fleeting and unreliable, have no place in his carefully ordered world. yet, there’s a strange, persistent feeling that arises whenever you're near. at first, he dismisses it as a mild illness—a fever, perhaps? why else would his stomach churn, or his heart race every time you smile at him? why does his usually sharp focus falter when you so much as glance his way?

he tries to bury it in books and rationalize it through long inner debates, but nothing works. no sickness lingers this long. it’s only when he catches himself staring at the way your hair catches the light, his book completely forgotten, that it hits him: this feeling isn’t going away because it’s not something he can cure. it’s love, plain and simple, and it terrifies him as much as it captivates him.

—

al haitham never believed in distractions, especially not the kind that came wrapped in emotions. to him, feelings were fleeting, inconvenient, and often illogical. his days were meticulously structured—filled with books, research, and his duties as the scribe. he prided himself on being above the frivolities that consumed others, such as infatuations or love.

but then there was you.

at first, he didn’t notice it, not entirely. it started as a faint tug in his chest whenever you walked into the room, an unusual flutter he attributed to something as mundane as fatigue. perhaps he’d spent too many late nights reading. yet, the feeling didn’t fade—it grew stronger. he began to notice how his gaze lingered on you longer than necessary, how he would catch himself watching the way your hands moved when you gestured, or the subtle tilt of your head when you laughed.

then came the physical reactions—an uncharacteristic heat rising to his cheeks when your smile was directed at him, the unsettling way his heart seemed to stumble in its rhythm when your hand accidentally brushed against his. al haitham, a man of reason, began to feel like a stranger in his own body.

he dismissed it all as a passing annoyance. after all, emotions were nothing more than biochemical responses in the brain. surely, they couldn’t hold sway over him. yet no matter how much he buried himself in his books, no matter how many times he told himself it was nothing, the feeling persisted.

one afternoon, as he sat across from you in a quiet corner of the akademiya library, it hit him. you were completely engrossed in a book, your brows furrowed in concentration as you absentmindedly chewed on the end of your pen. sunlight filtered through the high windows, casting a golden glow across your face. in that moment, the world seemed to slow, and al haitham found himself utterly captivated.

it wasn’t just your appearance, though that was undeniably striking. it was the way you carried yourself, the way you spoke with such conviction, the way you made him feel seen without even trying. his chest tightened as a single, undeniable truth settled over him like a heavy weight.

he was in love with you.

it wasn’t a realization that came gently; it struck him like a bolt of lightning, leaving him breathless and disoriented. love, he realized, wasn’t something he could rationalize or compartmentalize. it wasn’t something he could read about in books or explain through logic. it was maddening, infuriating, and completely out of his control.

and yet, as you glanced up from your book and caught him staring, offering him a soft, curious smile, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. because for the first time in his carefully constructed, logical life, he felt something real. and he realized he didn’t want it to go away.

ayato — when he realizes that you see him for who he is other than his position (the head of the kamisato clan.)

being the head of the kamisato clan comes with weighty expectations, and ayato carries them with grace and precision. but beneath the polished exterior is a man often lost in his own isolation, unseen for anything but his title and duty. then there’s you—someone who doesn’t bow out of formality or tread lightly around him. you talk to him as if he’s simply ayato, not the dignified lord of a powerful clan.

when you tease him over his tea choices or laugh at his dry humour, he finds himself smiling without thinking. the realization strikes during one quiet moment, when your words bring comfort after a particularly exhausting day of clan responsibilities. in your eyes, he’s not just a leader or a figurehead; he’s himself. and for that, he falls deeply, irrevocably in love.

—

as the head of the kamisato clan, ayato has always lived under the weight of responsibility. every decision he makes is calculated, every word measured. to the world, he is a leader—refined, composed, and untouchable. to many, he’s a symbol of power, a figurehead to be admired or feared. but rarely, if ever, does someone see beyond the polished façade he wears.

that’s why meeting you felt so different.

at first, he assumed you’d treat him the same way others did—with reverence, deference, and perhaps a touch of hesitation. but you surprised him from the start. you spoke to him not as "lord kamisato" but as ayato, a person. you weren’t afraid to tease him when he mispronounced a word or point out when his tea brewing skills were “not up to standard” (your words, not his). instead of walking on eggshells around him, you treated him like an equal, even daring to call him out when he tried to dodge his own sister’s scolding.

he found himself drawn to the way you interacted with him. there was no pretense, no calculation behind your words. when you complimented him, it felt genuine. when you laughed at his dry jokes, it wasn’t because you thought you were supposed to—it was because you actually found him funny. it was refreshing, and he found himself seeking out your company more and more, even if he didn’t entirely understand why.

the realization struck him one evening during a rare moment of peace. the two of you were sitting in the gardens, watching the lanterns reflect on the koi pond. you had spent the day teasing him about some lighthearted matter, and now the conversation had settled into a comfortable silence. you leaned back, gazing at the stars, your expression soft and unguarded.

“you know,” you said, breaking the quiet, “you don’t always have to carry everything on your shoulders.”

he glanced at you, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”

“you work so hard to maintain the clan, to keep everything running smoothly,” you said, turning to meet his gaze. “but you’re more than just the head of the kamisato clan. you’re… you. and that’s enough.”

he stared at you, his usually quick wit failing him. no one had ever said that to him before—not like this, with such quiet conviction. for a man who had spent so much of his life being seen only as his title, your words were both a comfort and a revelation.

it was then that he realized what you meant to him. you didn’t admire him because of his status or his accomplishments. you saw him for who he truly was—the man behind the name, the person behind the role. and you accepted him, flaws and all.

his heart swelled with a feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to name before: love. it was a quiet, steady thing, not the overwhelming rush he’d read about in novels. but it was real, and it was his.

from that moment on, he knew he would do anything to keep you by his side. not as the head of the kamisato clan, but simply as ayato, the man who had fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with you.

zhongli — the way you both share a taste for the same things.

zhongli has always been drawn to the finer things in life—intricate details, carefully brewed teas, and stories steeped in history. it’s rare to find someone who shares his appreciation for life’s subtle intricacies. but when he watches you admire the craftsmanship of a simple teacup or pause to marvel at a seemingly insignificant flower, he feels an unexpected sense of kinship.

it starts with shared conversations about forgotten lore and ends with quiet strolls through liyue, where your presence feels as steady and eternal as the mountains he once ruled over. love sneaks up on him quietly, as natural and enduring as the ebb and flow of the tides.

—

zhongli has lived for countless years, long enough to see the rise and fall of nations, to witness the tides of history shift and settle. in his vast experience, he has always valued the small, refined pleasures of life: the perfect balance of flavours in a cup of tea, the intricate artistry of hand-carved jade, the quiet wisdom of ancient traditions. these are things he cherishes—things most people overlook in their fast-paced lives.

and then, there’s you.

at first, he simply appreciated your company. you had a quiet elegance to you, a way of seeing the beauty in things others might dismiss. he noticed it when your eyes lit up at the sight of a finely crafted tea set or when you lingered by a vendor's stand, marveling at the texture of a silk scarf. it intrigued him, though he didn’t think much of it at the time.

but over time, he began to notice how often your tastes aligned with his own. you never rushed through moments that deserved appreciation. you would carefully examine the details of an artifact or savor the layers of flavor in a dish, always finding something worth treasuring. the way you spoke about the world mirrored his own thoughts, as though you too carried an unspoken reverence for the things that endure.

one day, the two of you were strolling through liyue harbor, the air warm with the scent of freshly brewed tea and incense. you stopped at a stall selling old scrolls, your eyes drawn to a weathered piece depicting an ancient liyue legend. you traced the delicate ink strokes with your finger, smiling softly.

“it’s incredible, isn’t it?” you said, glancing at him. “how something so fragile can last through centuries, holding stories that might otherwise be forgotten.”

zhongli felt a warmth stir in his chest as he watched you. it wasn’t just your words—it was the way you looked at the world, the way you found meaning in even the smallest of things.

later that evening, as the two of you shared tea in a quiet corner of the city, he found himself stealing glances at you. you were deep in thought, your fingers lightly drumming on the table as you contemplated something he’d said. the golden light of the lanterns softened your features, and for a fleeting moment, he felt as though time itself had paused just for the two of you.

it was then that the realization struck him, gentle but undeniable: he had fallen in love with you.

it wasn’t a sudden or overwhelming feeling. rather, it had grown steadily over time, like the roots of a tree burrowing deeper into the earth. it was in the way you shared his appreciation for life’s subtle beauties, the way your presence brought a quiet comfort he hadn’t felt in ages.

zhongli, a being who had lived through eons, understood the value of things that endure. and now, he realized, he wanted you to be part of that enduring beauty—someone who could walk beside him, not just for a moment, but for all the moments yet to come.

xiao — when he realizes he has to face the reality of losing you

for centuries, xiao has kept his distance from mortals, believing it better to remain detached. but you… you found a way into his guarded heart without him even noticing. your warmth, your laughter, the way you bring color to his otherwise bleak existence—it all becomes something he clings to, even if he refuses to admit it.

he doesn’t realise how much you mean to him until the thought of losing you becomes too real. perhaps it’s a reckless fight or the fleeting nature of mortality itself, but the possibility of your absence leaves him cold, like the world has suddenly grown darker. it’s then that he accepts the truth: he doesn’t want to face a world without you in it. and for someone who has spent so long running from connection, this love feels both terrifying and inescapable.

—

xiao has always lived in the shadows of pain and solitude. as the vigilant yaksha, he has spent centuries protecting liyue from the lingering evils of the past, all while bearing the heavy burden of karmic debt. he has kept himself distant from others, convinced that his presence could only bring harm to those who dared to get too close.

but then you came along.

you weren’t like the others who crossed his path—fearful, reverent, or merely passing through. you were persistent in your kindness, always greeting him with a warm smile and a gentle presence that never demanded anything from him. though he tried to push you away at first, you never wavered. you brought him almond tofu, his favorite dish, even when he insisted you didn’t need to. you’d sit with him in silence on the balcony of wangshu inn, content to simply share the same space.

slowly, against his better judgment, xiao began to let you in. he found himself seeking you out in quiet moments, lingering in your presence longer than necessary. he would catch himself watching the way your face lit up when you talked about something you loved, the way you hummed softly when you thought no one was listening. there was a lightness to you, a warmth he hadn’t felt in centuries, and it terrified him.

he told himself it was nothing more than a fleeting connection, something he could sever when the time came. but that illusion shattered the day he saw you in danger.

you had gone too far from the inn, wandering into an area where monsters lurked. xiao had been watching from a distance, as he often did, when he saw the hilichurls closing in around you. before he even realized it, he had already teleported to your side, his spear cutting through the air with lethal precision.

when the fight was over, and you were safe, he turned to you, his heart pounding in his chest. the sight of you trembling, your wide eyes staring up at him in shock, sent a wave of emotions crashing over him. fear. anger. relief.

“why didn’t you call for me?” his voice was sharper than he intended, laced with a desperation he couldn’t hide.

“i didn’t want to bother you,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the ground.

his chest ached at your words. didn’t you realize that you were never a bother to him? that he would come to you, no matter where or when, if it meant keeping you safe?

that night, as he watched you from the shadows once more, the realization hit him like a dagger to the heart. he cared for you—more deeply than he had ever thought possible. and that care came with a terrifying truth: the more he loved you, the more he had to lose.

xiao had always prepared himself for the inevitability of loss. as an immortal, he had outlived countless humans, watched friends and comrades fall to time and battle. he had sworn never to let himself grow attached again, never to open himself up to the kind of pain that could crush him.

but with you, he realized, it was already too late.

the thought of losing you, of watching you disappear from his life, was unbearable. it was a reality he had spent centuries avoiding, but now he had no choice but to face it. because in loving you, he had also given you the power to break him.

and yet, despite the fear, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. because even if his love for you brought him pain, it also brought him something he hadn’t felt in centuries: hope. hope that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to face the darkness alone anymore.

ote: if you would like to be added to the honkai star rail taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy

taglist 🏷️:  @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!

[luvfy0dor]

“My Knuckles Were Bruised Like Violets ♡⁠˖” Boxer!Vi x F!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Description; headcannons and scenario- VI running straight to her girl after a win

Warnings; boxing, fighting, cuts/bruises, injury, not proofread smh, this is so self indulgent it hurts

A/n; my wife bro I love vi so much 😽 I've never written for her before so if it seems a little ooc let me know with POLITE constructive criticism so I can fix it!! I also know very minimal stuff about boxing but I wanted to write this anyways 😞 this isn't pit fighter vi but is adjacent to pit fighter vi

Headcannons!! ༊*·˚

→ On occasion, Vi asks you to spar with her. She'll help you put on those big gloves with the targets on the palms and just go at it for a couple minutes.

→ Sometimes when she's satisfied with your brief sessions, she'll ask you if you wanna switch places and try throwing the punches. She'd watch with a grin as you tried to focus on hitting her palms as hard as possible, hyping you up and correcting your form. "Come on, lift those shoulders up Cupcake."

→ Before her matches, she'd locate you in the crowd and give you a flashy, confident grin, her canines reminding you of a fierce mountain-lion.

→ Though she was great at what she did, she wasn't immune to losing. When she did lose, she'd be upset, but she'd turn that disgruntlement into motivation to do better and spend a little extra time working on sparring, probably with other boxers who could simulate an actual match.

→ But when she won, which was most of the time, she immediately celebrated with you, still high on adrenaline after a solid knockout or accumulation of points. She'd excitedly hop around the ring in triumph, smiling and watching you cheer along with her.

→ She shows off trophies, medals, and belts with one arm holding the prize in the air and the other arm around your waist..😝

→ She lets you inspect her cuts and bruises after matches, even after reassuring you that the people "patched her up fine". She's got a habit of picking at scabs and you often gotta pull her hands away and clean the blood off of her skin again. Depending on how bad the bleeding is you'll put a bandaid on it, but sometimes it stops with a little bit of pressure.

Scenario ༊*·˚

There was some blood smeared on both Vi and her opponents faces, sweat dripping down their skin as Vi threw the final punch, K.O.'ing the other person. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears, but she didn't miss the victory bell, raising her fist up in the air and cheering. She took a handful of deep breaths, her vision stabilizing again as she searched the crowd for you. When your eyes met, she gave you her usual flashy smile, ready to drop her arm, but the referee just raises it right back up. The arena erupted in cheers for Vi, and her chest rose and fell at a decreasing pace. She pointed to you and blew you a kiss, heading to her corner to meet with her crew and get the sweat and blood patted off of her face. She spoke with a lady who asked a couple basic questions about how she felt after winning and was awarded a medal, the shiny gold reflecting all the lights that shone down onto the ring as she held it up proudly for everyone to see. She took in the sight of the crowd, though as usual her eyes reverted right back to their fixated position on you. As you started to move from your spot to come see her, she quickly went to see her opponent and thank them for a good match before exiting the ring to get to you.

"Cupcake! Good fight, right? The judges sure thought so." She says proudly, holding the medal out for you. You held it gently in your hands, feeling the weight of the award and raising your brows. "Geez, that thing is heavy duty." You say. "But you deserve every ounce of it- you fought amazing, babe- I couldn't be prouder." You say, a big grin on your face as you put your arms around her neck and lean in for a kiss. Her hands fall to your waist and she returns it, her cheeks red due to her physical activity and now blush from your affection. When you pull away, you cup her cheek and try to wipe some of the dried up blood off of her face, but it doesn't budge. "You'll have to scrub that off later. I was getting a little nervous when she got you straight in your nose." You say, a small smile on your face. Even though you knew Vi was resilient and could take a couple punches to the face, you couldn't help but get a little antsy seeing her bleed. "Does it hurt still?" You reached to brush your thumb acrossed her nose and she scrunched her face up.

"Nah, not real bad atleast. And you've gotten better with your worrying, the first time you came to one of these fights I coulda sworn you cried for me." She laughs, pushing some of your hair back and kissing your forehead. "But c'mon, lets get outta here asap, I'm ready to leave." She says, holding you close while she waves to the spectators and holds up her medal, walking out of the arena with her arm around something far more valuable than any award- you.

A/n; I'm actually kinda scared NGL cuz Ive never written for arcane, I've always stayed to BSD for the most part and it's always a little nerve wracking writing for a new demographic. Trust I'll be writing more bsd soon, but I also wanted to drop some arcane stuff.

[illusionremember]

I'll tell you what. I've spent the past several days going through this tag. All 224 pages of it. I was angry. I wanted to block every goddamn person that used it. I don't wanna see their shit whether it was AI or not, and I don't want them seeing mine either.

But I learned some things while I was clicking through this, clicking on names, and blocking.

Overall, the content posted under this tag are predictably bland, unimaginative, and uninteresting. I think we all could have figured this one out without looking.

The users that seem to post these almost all strike me as incredibly young. Not all of them, of course, but many admit in so many words that they are high schoolers, often just messing around, as high schoolers often do.

So so SO many of these are marked in their summaries as the poster just mucking about in AI because they were bored, avoiding homework, avoiding sleep. They thought whatever it churned out was funny, or in some cases horrifyingly bad, and posted it to share it. They know it's bad. It is actually very rare for some of them to be earnestly trying to claim it as writing. There's a lot of "oh god what did I/chatgpt/insert AI write?" and "this is so weird and funny" type of tags.

on the other hand, there are a (surprisingly small) handful of them that are clearly fetish content, with extreme or taboo kink. I wonder if the use of AI helps them to separate themselves from the content they decided they wanted to read. Like a way of saying "well I didn't write this, it's the AI". I wonder if it's about shame. Of those kind of pieces, most of those posters only put up a single piece and disappeared.

A loooot of them are marked as "original fiction." As for those that are listed under fandoms, imo the posters have absolute dogshit tastes - in terms of tropes, ships, and plots they chose to prompt AI for.

Some of these aren't even fics, but use AI-generated images to illustrate, to translate from another language, or say they were "inspired by" an AI chat rather than made with it. I'm not saying that's better, but it does change the way I'm looking at that giant number at the top.

A large amount of these are listed under orphan_account. Meaning that whoever wrote it decided, for whatever reason, to disassociate themselves from it. Maybe they got pushback. Maybe they thought better of it. If this many people orphaned their works, I wanna know how many of them deleted them in full

The number is growing, but I suspect that's because this is the parent tag that the tag wranglers are constantly adding to, rather than people posting new AI content. I suspect this because every time they round up more, new names pop up on pages I already went through.

Tbh, coming to these realizations made me feel better about this whole thing. I'm sure there are other fics out there that aren't tagged for it, but this gives a good idea of the kind of content that comes out of AI. And I very deliberately am using the terms "content" and "poster" instead of work, writing, writer, or artist. Because this isn't creative work. It's content churning. It's a crude parlor trick. And even the people that posted these seem to know it.

Those of you that have played with AI. I'm talking to you now. The kind of stuff you're getting out of AI now? I promise you - it is so much better to make your own, and to look for actual writers for something to read.

You can find and write funny crackfic. People have done it for decades. You can come up with weird nonsense and bizarre ooc chaos all on your own. It's so much more satisfying.

If you are looking for angst or romance or horror or whatever to read, there's literally hundreds of thousands of fanfics written by real people that will tell far better stories. The thing is, when a person is telling a story, there's usually a core goal or message they're trying to give. Writing is about communicating something. It's about sharing the things that make your heart sing. It's about putting the things in your head and heart onto paper or a screen so that other people can see those parts too. AI isn't capable of that.

If you have ideas but you don't want to write it yourself, you just want to read it, instead or prompting an AI, consider posting your prompt to a community of other fan artists and writers, here on tumblr or somewhere else. Back on LJ, there were entire promptfill communities. People would post prompts and ideas they had, and others would respond and write them. It was my favorite part of those fandom communities. I miss them terribly. I miss the fics and art and the overflow of creativity. Most of all I miss the connection with others.

And for those of you that do want to write, to communicate ideas of your own, but think that you aren't good enough to write it yourself — I would rather read your own words than anything AI could churn out. Even if you're terrible. Even if you can't string the words together the way you want yet. Bad writing is how you learn to put words to your ideas, your feelings, the things that scare you, the things that make you laugh or cry. The computer will never, ever be able to translate those things onto a page in any way that's authentic, because it's stealing things from other people and scrambling them together. It doesn't create anything. It steals, and then mixes and matches scraps of other people's work to approximate what you asked for, and it's bad at it. It lacks intent and it lacks soul.

The words that you would choose yourself are lost every time you let AI do the work for you. And that's really sad to me. Don't willfully give up your voice. Its the most precious thing you have in this world.

Write it shitty, write it scared, write it without a clue but don't you be so spineless and have an AI write fanfic for you.