#but there's always this thought in the back of my mind that yeah maybe if i exercise it will also help me in looking a certain way

[hsjazebel]

Meant to be

Summary: Y/N never expected a college party to change anything—until she met Harry. What starts as a quiet connection over books and movies slowly turns into something deeper, proving that some things are simply meant to be.

Wordcount: 32k+ (I have been carried away, sorry 😅)

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day! ♡ Here’s a little story about love finding you when you least expect it. Hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think!

Masterlist

— — —

The party was louder than she expected.

Y/N wasn’t sure why she had let Charlotte convince her to come. Maybe it was the way her roommate had pleaded, eyes wide with excitement, promising it would be “just for an hour.” Or maybe it was the fact that she had spent too many Friday nights curled up in bed while the rest of campus buzzed with energy.

She had thought, just for once, that maybe she should say yes.

But now, standing in the middle of the crowded living room, she regretted it.

The music thumped against the walls, the bass so deep she could feel it in her ribs. Laughter and voices blurred together in an endless hum, broken only by the occasional shout of someone calling out to a friend. The air was thick—too many people, too much perfume, too much heat.

She tugged at the hem of her sweater, suddenly self-conscious. She wasn’t dressed for this, not like the other girls in shimmering tops and short skirts. She had gone for comfort—jeans, a fitted top, her favorite oversized cardigan—but now she felt out of place, like she hadn’t read the unspoken dress code.

Charlotte had disappeared almost immediately, swallowed up by the crowd, probably off to find that guy she’d been texting. Y/N had tried to follow for a bit, but the sea of people made it impossible to keep up.

Now she was alone, pressed against the wall, holding a drink she hadn’t even sipped.

She exhaled, glancing toward the front door. Maybe she could just leave. Charlotte wouldn’t mind—she was too caught up in her own night.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an open door leading to the balcony.

Without thinking, she headed for it, slipping outside and closing the door behind her.

Cool air washed over her, a welcome contrast to the stifling heat inside. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and leaned against the railing, her fingers wrapping around the cold metal. The city stretched out in front of her, distant lights flickering against the night sky. From here, the noise of the party was muffled, just a dull hum beneath the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the silence settle over her.

And then—

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

The voice was smooth, warm. British.

Her eyes snapped open.

Turning slightly, she found herself face to face with someone she recognized immediately.

Harry Styles.

Her breath hitched, just for a second.

She had seen him around before, of course. It was hard not to notice him. He wasn’t the typical loud, overly confident guy that thrived in these kinds of settings, but he had a presence that made people gravitate toward him anyway. Maybe it was the way he carried himself—calm, collected, always with an air of quiet amusement, like he was in on some inside joke no one else knew about.

Now, standing in front of her in the dim balcony light, he looked impossibly at ease.

His dark curls were pushed back messily, a few strands falling over his forehead. A pair of thin-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, framing sharp green eyes that studied her with quiet interest. His loose button-up was unbuttoned at the top, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the intricate tattoos winding down his forearms.

He held a drink casually in one hand, the other tucked into his pocket, like he had all the time in the world.

She swallowed.

“I—uh—yeah,” she finally managed. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

His lips quirked, as if her answer didn’t surprise him at all. “Figured as much.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And how exactly did you figure that?”

He took a slow sip from his drink before answering. “Well, for one, you’ve been out here for at least five minutes and haven’t checked your phone once.” His eyes flickered toward the door. “And two… you look like you’re trying to disappear.”

She huffed out a quiet laugh. “That obvious?”

Harry smirked. “A little.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The city lights flickered in the distance, and the air between them felt charged—not uncomfortable, but something else entirely.

Then, he shifted slightly, turning more toward her.

“I’m Harry, by the way.”

She let out a small breath, amused. As if she didn’t already know.

“I know,” she admitted, then immediately winced. “I mean—everyone knows who you are.”

Harry chuckled, the sound low and warm. “That’s fair.” He tilted his head slightly. “And you are…?”

“Y/N.”

He repeated it, softer this time, like he was testing the way it felt on his tongue. Then, with a small smile, he extended his hand. “Well, Y/N, it’s nice to officially meet you.”

She hesitated for just a second before slipping her hand into his.

His palm was warm, his grip gentle but firm.

“Nice to meet you too, Harry.”

His fingers lingered a second longer than necessary before he let go.

He leaned his elbow against the railing, glancing at her thoughtfully. “So, if parties aren’t your thing… what would you rather be doing right now?”

She bit her lip, thinking. “Watching a movie, probably.”

Harry’s brows lifted slightly. “Anything in particular?”

She hesitated, then decided to be honest. “A romcom.”

His lips curled into a slow smile. “You like romcoms?”

She nodded. “I grew up watching them. Notting Hill, 10 Things I Hate About You, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days… I know they’re cheesy, but I love them.”

He studied her for a second, then let out a soft chuckle. “Cheesy doesn’t mean bad. Those are classics.”

She tilted her head. “Wait… you actually like them too?”

Harry smirked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Course I do. I mean, have you seen When Harry Met Sally? It’s got my name in it. That’s a sign, don’t you think?”

She laughed—really laughed, for the first time that night.

Harry watched her, his expression softer now, like he was pleased to be the reason behind it.

The conversation flowed easier after that. They debated over the best romcom of all time, exchanged favorite scenes, and argued about which movie had the most unrealistic yet satisfying ending. Somewhere in between, Y/N forgot about the party altogether.

But eventually, her phone buzzed in her pocket—Charlotte, probably looking for her.

She sighed, realizing she had to go.

Harry noticed. “Leaving already?”

“Yeah, I think so.” She hesitated, then, feeling unusually bold, added, “But… maybe next time, I’ll skip the party and just watch a romcom instead.”

His smile was slow, almost knowing. “Maybe next time, you won’t have to watch it alone.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

And as she stepped back inside, disappearing into the noise and the crowd, she couldn’t help but hope—just a little—that this was only the beginning.

———

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sound of Charlotte’s voice.

“Well, well, well,” her roommate drawled, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “Look who’s finally awake.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face into the pillow. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven,” Charlotte said, walking over and flopping down onto the bed beside her. “And you have some explaining to do.”

Y/N peeked at her through one eye. “Explaining?”

Charlotte grinned, far too awake for this early in the morning. “Don’t play innocent with me. You disappeared at the party. And when I finally found you again, you looked… different.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “So spill.”

Y/N sighed, rolling onto her back. “There’s nothing to spill.”

Charlotte gasped dramatically. “Lies! I saw you talking to Harry Styles.” She poked Y/N’s side. “You—quiet, book-loving, avoider of all social gatherings—somehow ended up alone on a balcony with the most intriguing guy on campus.”

Y/N felt her face heat up. “It wasn’t like that,” she muttered.

Charlotte smirked. “Then what was it like?”

Y/N hesitated. The truth was, she wasn’t exactly sure.

“It was… nice,” she admitted after a moment. “We just talked.”

Charlotte studied her, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Talked? That’s it?”

Y/N nodded.

Charlotte huffed, flopping back against the bed. “You’re impossible.”

Y/N smiled, sitting up and stretching. “Did you at least have fun?”

Charlotte let out a dreamy sigh. “Oh, absolutely. And I might have secured myself a coffee date with Mason.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Mason?”

“You know, Harry’s friend? Tall, kind of scruffy, ridiculously charming?” Charlotte waggled her fingers. “I think we have a connection.”

Y/N laughed softly. “I’m happy for you.”

Charlotte sat up again, her expression turning devious. “And speaking of coffee dates…”

Y/N’s stomach fluttered. “No.”

Charlotte pouted. “Come on! I think he likes you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We talked for, like, twenty minutes.”

Charlotte shrugged. “That’s plenty of time to make an impression. And if he really likes you, you’ll see him again.”

Y/N didn’t answer. Because the thought had already crossed her mind.

Would she see him again?

———

She did.

Three days later.

At the campus café.

Y/N had been curled up in a corner booth, a warm cup of tea beside her as she flipped through a book for class. The café was quiet, filled mostly with students studying or catching up on assignments. The hum of conversation and the occasional clinking of cups created the kind of atmosphere she loved—calm, steady, familiar.

And then, a shadow fell over her table.

“Y/N.”

She looked up.

And there he was.

Harry Styles, standing beside her table, a cup of coffee in one hand and a curious tilt to his head. He wasn’t wearing his glasses today, but she still recognized the quiet amusement in his eyes.

“Hi,” she said, feeling her heart pick up speed.

His lips twitched. “Mind if I sit?”

She hesitated for only a second before shaking her head. “Go ahead.”

Harry slid into the seat across from her, setting his coffee down. “Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Alright, I might have hoped I would.”

Her stomach did an embarrassing little flip.

“What are you reading?” he asked, nodding toward the book in her hands.

She glanced down, suddenly self-conscious. “Uh, Wuthering Heights.”

His brows lifted, impressed. “Intense choice.”

She shrugged. “It’s for class, but I like it.”

Harry studied her for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, stretching out comfortably. “So, tell me—are you one of those people who think Heathcliff is romantic, or do you see him for the walking red flag that he is?”

Y/N blinked in surprise. “You’ve read it?”

He smirked. “I have.”

She bit her lip, eyeing him. “And?”

Harry sighed dramatically. “Look, I get the passion, the whole ‘soulmate across time and space’ thing, but let’s be honest—if Heathcliff were around today, he’d be sending late-night ‘u up?’ texts and brooding over his ex’s Instagram posts.”

Y/N let out a surprised laugh. “That is… disturbingly accurate.”

Harry grinned. “And you? Are you a Heathcliff apologist?”

She shook her head. “I think he and Cathy deserved each other—because no one else should have to deal with that level of drama.”

Harry chuckled. “Harsh, but fair.”

There was something about the way he looked at her—curious, amused, like he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. It made her stomach twist in a way she wasn’t used to.

A beat of silence stretched between them.

Then—

“So,” Harry said, breaking the moment, “you never told me your verdict.”

Y/N frowned. “My verdict?”

“The best romcom of all time.”

She smiled, relieved by the lighter topic. “That’s impossible to answer.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Alright. Then let’s make it simpler. What’s your go-to comfort movie?”

She thought for a second. “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.”

His eyes lit up. “Classic.”

She nodded. “It’s just fun, you know? The whole fake dating thing, the ridiculousness of it all. And Kate Hudson? Iconic.”

Harry smirked. “And the ‘You let it die!’ scene? A cinematic masterpiece.”

Y/N laughed. “Exactly.”

Harry studied her for a moment, then said, “I like that.”

Y/N suddenly felt warm under his gaze. She looked down, tracing the rim of her cup. “What about you?”

Harry pretended to think. “Mmm… Notting Hill.”

She grinned. “Oh, come on. You just like it because of the ‘I’m just a girl’ scene.”

He laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe I like the idea that two people from completely different worlds can still find their way to each other.”

Something about the way he said it made her stomach flutter.

The conversation drifted after that—talk of books, movies, little things that made them both feel at home. The more they spoke, the more Y/N felt that strange, unexpected ease settle between them.

And when she finally glanced at the time, she realized an hour had passed without her even noticing.

“I should probably get to class,” she murmured, closing her book.

Harry nodded, but didn’t look particularly eager to leave.

As she stood, sliding her bag over her shoulder, he tapped his fingers against the table. “So…”

She looked at him expectantly.

He smirked. “Movie night?”

Her heart skipped. “Are you asking me out, Harry Styles?”

His expression was all mischief. “Maybe.”

She bit her lip, pretending to consider. Then, feeling unusually bold, she said, “Okay.”

Harry’s smirk turned into something softer.

“Good,” he said.

And as she walked away, she could feel his eyes on her the whole time.

———

The library was quieter than usual.

Y/N liked it that way. She liked the solitude, the way the world seemed to shrink down to just her and the words on the page. It was calming—predictable.

What she didn’t expect, however, was a voice breaking through the silence.

“Didn’t peg you as the type to hide away in a library for fun.”

She looked up, already knowing who she would see.

Harry stood in front of her table, a familiar smirk on his lips, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He had a notebook tucked under his arm and a coffee in hand, looking completely at ease despite the way his presence sent her heart racing.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “And yet, here you are.”

Harry hummed, sliding into the chair across from her. “Touché.”

She watched as he set his coffee down and flipped open his notebook, as if he belonged there—like this was routine.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Are you actually here to study, or are you just bothering me for fun?”

Harry grinned. “Can it be both?”

She huffed, biting back a smile as she returned her gaze to her book. But she could still feel his eyes on her.

A beat passed before he spoke again. “Wuthering Heights, huh? Still brooding over Heathcliff?”

Y/N sighed, looking up. “You do realize I read more than one book, right?”

Harry’s smirk widened. “Do you, now?”

She rolled her eyes and turned the book so he could see the title.

His gaze flickered over the cover before he raised an eyebrow. “White Nights?”

Y/N tilted her head. “Surprised?”

Harry leaned back in his chair, studying her. “A little. Didn’t take you for a Dostoevsky kind of girl.”

“And what kind of girl did you take me for?” she challenged.

He smirked. “Jane Austen, maybe. Brontë sisters, definitely. But Russian literature? That’s a surprise.”

She shrugged. “I like stories about lonely people.”

Something flickered in his expression, but it was gone too fast for her to catch.

“Lonely people,” he repeated. “And here I thought you just liked tragic love stories.”

Y/N hesitated, then said softly, “Aren’t they the same thing?”

Harry studied her for a moment, something unreadable in his gaze. Then, in a voice quieter than before, he said, “I guess they are.”

Silence settled between them again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like something had shifted—like she had let him see a part of her she didn’t show to just anyone.

Then, after a moment, Harry’s lips twitched up into a smile. “So, is White Nights a re-read, or am I catching you in the middle of a first-time experience?”

She exhaled, grateful for the change in tone. “Re-read.”

His grin widened. “Interesting. That means you must really like it.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Are you about to judge my taste in books?”

Harry smirked. “Not at all. I was actually going to say… maybe I should let you convince me to read it.”

Y/N studied him. “You’ve never read it?”

“Not yet,” he admitted.

A small smile played on her lips. “Maybe you should.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled. “Maybe I will.”

———

That night, her phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

Unknown [9:07 PM]: So, lonely people, huh? Convince me why I should read White Nights.

Y/N frowned, staring at the screen. Who the hell—?

Y/N [9:08 PM]: Who is this?

A pause. Then—

Unknown [9:08 PM]: Wow. That hurts.

Her heart skipped.

She squinted at the message, then at the number, but it wasn’t saved in her contacts.

Y/N [9:09 PM]: Seriously. Who is this??

A few seconds passed before a reply popped up.

Unknown [9:09 PM]: It’s Harry.

She blinked.

Then—

Y/N [9:10 PM]: …How did you get my number?

Harry [9:11 PM]: Your lovely roommate gave it to me.

Y/N groaned out loud. “Charlotte!”

Across the room, Charlotte barely glanced up from her laptop. “Hmm?”

Y/N waved her phone in the air. “Did you seriously give Harry my number?”

Charlotte smirked. “Oh. So he finally texted you?”

“Charlotte.”

“What?” she said innocently. “He asked, and I figured it would take you forever to do it yourself.”

Y/N let out a long, dramatic sigh, turning her attention back to the screen.

Y/N [9:12 PM]: I hate you.

Harry [9:12 PM]: No, you don’t.

She rolled her eyes.

Y/N [9:13 PM]: Maybe you should read it and see for yourself.

Harry [9:14 PM]: Bold of you to assume I have time for Russian literature.

Y/N [9:15 PM]: Bold of you to assume I’d let you borrow my copy.

Harry [9:16 PM]: So possessive. I like it.

Y/N [9:17 PM]: You’re impossible.

Harry [9:17 PM]: And yet, here you are, still texting me.

She bit her lip, trying not to smile.

Harry [9:18 PM]: You still good for our not-date movie night?

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

Y/N [9:19 PM]: You mean the highly academic film screening of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days?

Harry [9:20 PM]: Exactly. For research purposes.

She hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen.

Y/N [9:21 PM]: Yeah. I’m still in.

His reply came almost instantly.

Harry [9:21 PM]: Good.

She stared at the word for a long time, ignoring the way her face felt impossibly warm.

———

“You’ve checked your phone three times in the last minute.”

Y/N shot Charlotte a glare from across the room. “I have not.”

Charlotte smirked, finishing the last touches of her makeup. “You so have.”

Y/N huffed, locking her phone and tossing it onto the bed like that would somehow make her friend drop the topic. “I’m just checking the time.”

“Mm-hmm.” Charlotte turned, arms crossed. “Because, of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that Harry is coming over.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her face felt warm. “It’s just a movie night.”

Charlotte grinned. “And yet, you’ve changed your sweater twice.”

Y/N groaned, flopping back onto her pillows. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Charlotte grabbed her bag, checking her reflection in the mirror. “I think it’s cute that you’re all flustered over him.”

“I’m not flustered.”

Charlotte raised a brow. “You are so flustered.”

Y/N groaned again, covering her face with a pillow.

A knock at the door made her sit up way too fast.

Charlotte smirked knowingly. “That’s my cue.”

Y/N watched as Charlotte opened the door, revealing Harry—standing there in his usual effortless way, glasses on, a bag of snacks in one hand.

“Oh, hey, Harry,” Charlotte greeted with a grin, throwing Y/N one last look. “I was just leaving.”

Harry glanced between them, looking mildly amused. “Leaving?”

“Yep.” Charlotte winked at Y/N. “Have fun.”

And before Y/N could even form a reply, she was gone.

Harry stepped inside, brow raised. “Did I just interrupt something?”

Y/N exhaled, shaking her head. “No. She’s just being Charlotte.”

Harry chuckled, setting the snacks down. “That explains a lot.”

Settling onto the couch, Y/N pressed play on 27 Dresses, tucking her legs under her.

Harry sat beside her, stretching his arm along the back of the couch. The space between them was small—too small—and she tried not to focus on the way his knee almost brushed hers.

“Have you seen this before?” he asked.

She scoffed. “Please. At least twenty times.”

Harry smiled. “Figures.”

For the first half hour, they made occasional comments about the movie—Harry teasing her about knowing all the lines, Y/N defending why it was a romcom classic.

But eventually, the room grew quieter. The soft glow of the screen cast shadows across Harry’s face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the way his glasses slid down his nose.

And Y/N—despite her best efforts to stay focused on the film—felt her eyelids growing heavy.

She shifted slightly, trying to stay awake, but the warmth of the room, the steady sound of the dialogue, and the presence of Harry right beside her made it impossible.

At some point, she leaned just a little too far to the side—

And before she could stop herself, her head landed gently on his shoulder.

For a second, she almost panicked.

But Harry didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.

If anything, he relaxed.

She felt him shift slightly, adjusting so that she fit more comfortably against him.

And just like that, sleep took over.

———

The next morning, the first thing Y/N registered was warmth.

A slow, steady warmth surrounding her, lulling her in a sleepy haze.

Then, she felt movement.

Her eyes fluttered open, and it took her a moment to realize:

She was curled into Harry’s side, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders.

The snack bag was on the floor. The TV screen had long since gone black. The early morning light was filtering through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room.

And Harry—

Was still asleep.

His head rested against the back of the couch, lips slightly parted, curls falling across his forehead. His glasses were slightly askew, one arm still tucked around her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Y/N barely breathed.

She should move. Should sit up, stretch, do anything to break the moment before he woke up.

But before she could, she felt him shift.

A slow inhale. A stretch.

And then, with a small frown, Harry’s eyes blinked open.

For a second, he looked confused. Disoriented.

Then, his gaze landed on her.

They both froze.

Silence.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

And then—

Harry’s lips twitched, still laced with sleep. “Morning.”

Y/N swallowed. “Morning.”

Another pause.

Then, realization dawned in Harry’s sleepy eyes. He glanced down at their position—her body still tucked into his side, his arm still loosely wrapped around her.

And yet—he didn’t move away.

Instead, his mouth curved into something softer.

“Didn’t mean to steal your couch,” he murmured.

Y/N huffed out a quiet laugh. “Didn’t mean to steal your shoulder.”

Harry smiled.

And for a moment, they just… sat there.

Close. Warm. Unmoving.

Y/N was still sitting on the couch, trying to process the fact that she’d just spent the night curled up against Harry Styles, when she heard him stretch beside her.

She glanced over. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, one hand running through his curls, the other adjusting his glasses.

And he looked… way too good for someone who had just woken up.

Before she could stop herself, she spoke.

“Do you—” She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual. “Do you want some coffee?”

Harry turned to her, blinking.

Then, the corner of his mouth lifted.

“Are you offering me coffee, Y/N?”

She rolled her eyes, standing up. “I regret it already.”

Harry chuckled, pushing himself up from the couch. “Too late.”

———

They ended up in the small dorm kitchen, Y/N fumbling with the coffee machine while Harry leaned against the counter, watching her with amusement.

“I didn’t peg you as the type to function without caffeine,” he said.

She scoffed. “Who says I function at all?”

Harry smirked. “Fair point.”

Once the coffee was ready, she handed him a mug, grabbing one for herself before hopping up onto the counter.

Harry took a slow sip, humming in approval. “Not bad.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Not bad?”

“Yeah.” He nudged her knee playfully. “Could be better.”

She gasped in mock offense. “You are such a snob.”

Harry grinned. “I have high standards.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling.

They fell into comfortable conversation, talking about everything from classes to 27 Dresses to how Harry apparently had a very strong opinion about the correct way to make tea.

And Y/N—despite the fact that she had woken up to a situation that should have been extremely awkward—found herself relaxing.

That was, of course, until Charlotte walked in.

She stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight before her—Harry standing in the kitchen, hair still tousled from sleep, drinking coffee from their mugs.

Y/N sitting on the counter, wearing the same clothes from last night.

Charlotte’s eyes widened.

Then, a slow smirk spread across her face.

“Oh,” she said, drawing out the word. “Good morning.”

Y/N groaned. “Charlotte—”

Charlotte ignored her, turning to Harry with an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Wow, Harry. You’re still here?”

Harry, to Y/N’s horror, grinned.

“Apparently, I make decent company, and your couch is not too bad” he said, sipping his coffee.

Charlotte gasped dramatically. “Did Y/N let you sleep on the couch? That is so rude.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Charlotte.”

Charlotte pressed a hand to her heart. “I mean, I was gone all night, you totally could’ve used my bed—”

Y/N almost choked on her coffee. “Oh my God, stop.”

Charlotte just smirked, eyes dancing between them. “I’m just saying…”

Y/N glared. “You’re the worst.”

Harry chuckled, setting down his mug. “I should probably get going before Mason starts wondering where I am.”

He turned to Y/N then, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he murmured.

She swallowed. “Yeah. Anytime.”

Charlotte wiggled her eyebrows.

Y/N shot her a warning look.

Harry—completely amused—grabbed his bag and made his way to the door.

“See you later, Y/N.”

And with that, he was gone.

Y/N barely had time to let out a breath before Charlotte pounced.

“So.”

Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Don’t.”

Charlotte ignored her, flopping onto the couch with a wicked grin. “You slept together.”

“Oh my God—”

“Not like that,” Charlotte amended. “But still. You slept together.”

Y/N groaned. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

Charlotte scoffed. “Oh, honey. It so was.”

———

Y/N had spent the entire morning convincing herself that nothing had changed.

That waking up next to Harry hadn’t felt different.

That the way he had smiled at her over coffee hadn’t made her stomach flip.

That she wasn’t replaying every second of their time together like some lovesick idiot.

But she was failing—miserably.

And Charlotte wasn’t helping.

“So,” her roommate drawled, flipping through a magazine on her bed, “are we just gonna pretend that last night never happened?”

Y/N, sitting at her desk, sighed. “Nothing happened.”

Charlotte scoffed. “You cuddled on the couch, made him coffee in the morning, and practically gazed at each other the whole time. That’s something.”

Y/N turned to glare at her. “I wasn’t gazing.”

Charlotte smirked. “Oh, honey. You were gazing.”

Y/N groaned, dropping her head onto her desk.

Charlotte laughed, tossing the magazine aside. “Look, all I’m saying is—he’s different, isn’t he?”

Y/N frowned. “What do you mean?”

Charlotte shrugged. “I mean, I’ve never seen you act like this over a guy. You usually keep your distance, but with Harry… I don’t know. You let him in.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest—but nothing came out.

Because, as much as she hated to admit it, Charlotte wasn’t wrong.

Harry was different.

And that was what scared her the most.

———

That afternoon, she tried to focus on studying.

Tried being the keyword.

She was in the library, sitting at her usual spot by the window, but the words on the page blurred together.

Her phone buzzed.

She glanced at it, already knowing who it was.

Harry [3:27 PM]: You’re not skipping the library today, are you?

Y/N [3:28 PM]: I’m literally here right now.

Harry [3:29 PM]: Good. Would’ve had to question your commitment to academia otherwise.

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips.

A minute later, she heard a chair scrape against the floor.

She looked up.

Harry slid into the seat across from her, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Hi,” he said, smiling.

Y/N tried to ignore the way her heartbeat definitely sped up. “Hi.”

He set down his bag and pulled out a book. “What are we studying today?”

Y/N sighed. “I’m trying to get through this reading, but it’s not working.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Do you want me to quiz you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You just got here.”

He smirked. “And?”

She shook her head, amused. “Fine.”

And so, they studied. Or at least, they tried.

Every time Harry read a passage aloud, he did it with exaggerated dramatics, making Y/N laugh.

Whenever she got an answer right, he’d tap his fingers against the table like a drumroll.

At some point, he reached for her book, fingers grazing hers—and neither of them pulled away.

The touch was brief, but her skin tingled where it had been.

Harry didn’t say anything, but his gaze flickered to hers, something unspoken lingering between them.

For the first time, Y/N felt like she was on the edge of something.

And she didn’t know whether to step forward—or run.

———

An hour later, Y/N packed up her things.

“I should go,” she murmured.

Harry nodded, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. “Alright.”

She hesitated before speaking. “Thanks for—y’know. Keeping me sane.”

Harry’s lips quirked. “Anytime.”

As she turned to leave, he called after her

“Oh, Y/N?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

Harry reached into his bag, pulling out a book.

She frowned as he held it out to her.

“The Symposium?” she read aloud, eyebrows raised.

Harry smirked. “Figured you might like it.”

She stared at him. “Harry, this is your copy.”

He shrugged. “So?”

“So, I know you annotate all your books.” She flipped through the pages, confirming her suspicions—his familiar, neat handwriting filled the margins. “I can’t take this.”

“You can,” he said simply. “And you will.”

She glanced up at him, confused. “But… why?”

Harry held her gaze for a moment, then leaned in slightly.

“Because I think you’ll understand it,” he murmured.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Because there was weight behind his words—something deeper than just a casual book recommendation.

She swallowed, gripping the book a little tighter.

“…Thank you,” she said softly.

Harry smiled. “See you later, Y/N.”

And as she walked away, The Symposium pressed against her chest, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

That, maybe, she had just crossed a line she could never go back from.

———

The night wrapped around them like a quiet secret. The streets were nearly empty, the world softened by the golden glow of streetlamps.

Y/N and Harry walked side by side, their steps unhurried, as if neither of them wanted the night to end just yet.

She wasn’t sure how they ended up here—how a simple goodnight after studying turned into do you want to take a walk? But she didn’t regret saying yes.

It had been a week since that night at her apartment, since they’d woken up together on the couch, and things between them had shifted. Not in an obvious way—there were no declarations, no grand confessions—but something had changed.

Harry had always looked at her like he was intrigued. But now?

Now, he looked at her like he knew. Like he was just waiting for her to admit it, too.

“You’re quiet,” Harry murmured beside her.

She glanced at him. “So are you.”

He smiled, a little crooked. “Guess I don’t always have something to say.”

“Impossible.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Harsh.”

They walked a little further before she spoke again, a quiet admission in the stillness of the night.

“I read your notes.”

Harry turned his head slightly. “My notes?”

“In The Symposium.”

Realization flickered in his expression. “Right.”

She hesitated. “There was one part that stuck with me.”

His gaze softened. “Which one?”

Y/N swallowed.

“The part where you wrote that love is about recognizing something familiar in someone else.”

Harry didn’t speak right away.

Then, quietly, he said, “That’s my favorite part.”

Y/N stopped walking.

So did he.

The silence between them stretched, heavy with something.

She could feel her pulse thrumming in her wrists, in her throat, in the space between them that was growing smaller by the second.

Harry took a step closer. Slowly. Like he was giving her time to stop him.

She didn’t.

His gaze flickered to her lips, just for a second, before meeting her eyes again.

His voice was softer when he spoke next. “You realize I like you, don’t you?”

Y/N felt something tighten in her chest.

Because, of course, she did.

But hearing it—feeling it—was different.

She exhaled, barely a whisper. “I think I do now.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good.”

He didn’t move right away.

He just looked at her, taking her in, like he was memorizing the moment.

Then, so softly it was almost imperceptible, his fingers brushed against hers.

Y/N inhaled sharply.

And that was all it took.

Before she could second-guess it, before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them.

She barely had time to process the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his breath, before his hand came up, fingers grazing her jaw as he leaned in—slow, careful, waiting.

And then—

Then, he kissed her.

It was soft at first. Just a whisper of a touch, a silent question against her lips.

But the moment she kissed him back, the moment her fingers curled into the fabric of his sweater, it changed.

It deepened.

Harry let out a quiet sound—like he had been waiting for this longer than he cared to admit—and then his hands were on her waist, pulling her closer, closer, like the space between them was unbearable.

Her heart was racing.

She could feel the warmth of his palms, the faint scrape of his stubble against her skin, the way he kissed her like he was learning her—like he wanted to know exactly how she fit against him.

And she let him.

By the time they pulled apart, her head was spinning, her breath uneven.

Harry’s forehead rested against hers, and he let out a quiet laugh.

“What?” she asked, still breathless.

He shook his head, smiling. “Nothing. Just… glad I finally did that.”

She bit her lip, trying—and failing—not to smile.

“Me too.”

Harry’s thumb brushed against her waist absentmindedly.

“Can I walk you home?” he asked.

Y/N nodded.

But neither of them moved.

Not right away.

And when they finally started walking again, Harry’s fingers found hers, intertwining them effortlessly—like they had been waiting to do that, too.

———

It had only been a couple of weeks since that night—their first kiss under the dim glow of the streetlights—but things between them had changed so much.

Not in an overwhelming way. Not in a way that made Y/N feel rushed or pressured.

But in a way that made her soften.

In a way that made it impossible to ignore how utterly smitten Harry was.

It was in the way he always found a reason to touch her, even in the smallest ways—fingertips brushing against hers when they walked, absentmindedly tucking her hair behind her ear when she was focused on something, resting his chin on her shoulder just because he could.

It was in the way he remembered things, like how she liked her coffee and how she hated the sound of loud chewing. In the way he always waited for her outside class even when they had different schedules. In the way he looked at her, like he was always choosing to.

Like he couldn’t believe she was real.

Today was no different.

Y/N sat curled up on the library couch, actually trying to get some work done, while Harry sat beside her, flipping through a book he had absolutely no interest in.

At least, that’s what she assumed—because instead of reading, he was staring at her.

She sighed, setting her pen down. “Harry.”

“Hm?” He looked unbothered, too comfortable as he rested his head against the back of the couch.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

She shot him a pointed look.

He smirked, unfazed. “Looking at my girlfriend?”

Her stomach flipped.

Even after two weeks, the word still did something to her.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were warm, and Harry knew it.

With a quiet chuckle, he reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers, absentmindedly running his thumb across the back of her palm.

“Should I be studying?” he murmured, lips twitching.

She nodded. “Yes.”

Harry pretended to consider it. Then, with zero hesitation, he squeezed her hand and dragged it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles.

“Too bad,” he murmured against her skin.

Y/N’s breath hitched.

This boy.

She was so doomed.

———

Y/N had tried to keep things subtle.

Not because she wanted to hide it, but because Charlotte was the biggest menace when it came to teasing her, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that just yet.

Too bad Charlotte noticed everything.

Like the way Y/N smiled at her phone when she thought no one was looking. The way she suspiciously left the dorm at night with an “I’ll be back later.” The way she got flustered when Harry’s name came up in conversation.

She had her suspicions, but she didn’t have proof.

Until now.

Because today, as Charlotte was walking toward the dorm, she saw them.

Saw Harry pressing a lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead. Saw the way she leaned into him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And that was all she needed.

“I KNEW IT!”

Y/N jumped, turning to find Charlotte standing a few feet away with the biggest, most victorious grin on her face.

“Oh my God,” Y/N muttered.

Harry—who clearly wasn’t fazed at all—simply raised an eyebrow. “Did you, though?”

Charlotte turned to him, still grinning. “YES. I just didn’t have evidence.” She turned back to Y/N, wiggling her eyebrows. “But now I do.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Charlotte sing-songed.

Harry chuckled, amused, before leaning down and whispering into Y/N’s ear, “I’ll leave you to it, sweetheart.”

She sighed dramatically. “Coward.”

He smirked, kissed the side of her head one last time, and walked away, leaving her to deal with Charlotte’s relentless interrogation.

Y/N was so in trouble.

———

After an hour of being mercilessly teased, Y/N flopped onto her bed, groaning in frustration.

Charlotte smirked from across the room. “Oh, come on, you love me.”

“Debatable,” Y/N muttered, reaching for her phone.

She scrolled through her messages before typing.

Y/N [10:08 PM]: I officially hate you.

Harry [10:09 PM]: That’s unfortunate.

Y/N [10:09 PM]: Charlotte won’t stop teasing me. This is your fault.

Harry [10:10 PM]: Guess I’ll just have to make it up to you, won’t I?

Y/N froze, rereading the message at least three times.

Before she could even think of a response, there was a quiet knock on the door.

Charlotte and Y/N shared a look.

Y/N opened it—and there he was.

Harry stood there, a lazy smirk on his lips, holding a small pastry in a white paper bag.

“Hey,” he murmured.

Y/N blinked.

Charlotte—who was watching the whole thing unfold—snorted. “Oh, my God. You are so whipped.”

Harry didn’t even deny it.

He just shrugged, handed Y/N the bag, and kissed her temple like it was the most normal thing in the world.

When she looked inside, she found her favorite pastry, the one from the café across campus.

She looked back up at him, eyes soft. “You went all the way to—“

Harry simply shrugged. “Felt like it”

Y/N pressed her lips together, trying not to melt right then and there.

Charlotte, however, had no such restraint. “You two are disgusting”, she muttered, rolling her eyes before dramatically throwing a pillow over her head.

Harry chuckled, then leaned down and whispered against Y/N’s skin, “Worth it.”

And just like that, Y/N knew—

She was so, so screwed.

[ivyues]

Echos of Home: Stray Kids' reactions to their S/O not being close with their parents

Bang Chan

The front door clicks shut, quieter than usual, but it’s enough for Chris to hear from the living room. He frowns, glancing at the time on his phone. You weren’t supposed to be back for another few hours.

“Babe?” His voice carries through the apartment as he stands up, walking toward the entryway. When he sees you, his expression softens, but there’s still a flicker of concern in his eyes. “You’re back early.”

You nod, setting your bag down a little too carefully, like you’re keeping yourself in check. “Yeah. I’m back.”

He studies you for a moment, his head tilting slightly the way it does when he’s trying to piece something together. He knows – has always known – that things with your parents aren’t exactly smooth. There’s no big, dramatic fallout, no abusive history, just a constant, lingering sense of not quite fitting in with them. Conversations that feel like walking through a minefield, small comments that chip away at you, a love that never feels warm enough.

Chris takes a step closer, reaching for your hand. “What happened?”

You shrug, not really wanting to get into it. “Nothing new.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, grounding, patient. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head. “Not really.”

He just tugs you into his arms, wrapping you up in a hug that is nothing like the ones you get from your parents – half-hearted, obligatory. No, this one is firm, warm, steady. You melt into it before you even realize how much you needed it.

His chin rests atop your head, his voice gentle. “You know you don’t have to go if you don’t want to, right?”

You close your eyes, exhaling slowly. “I know.”

“And you know that no matter what, you always have a home here with me?”

Your throat tightens, but in a good way. In a way that makes you feel safe. “Yeah,” you murmur. “I know.”

Chris squeezes you a little tighter before swaying side to side, humming softly. You’re home. That’s all that matters.

Lee Know

It wasn’t unusual for you to be at his parent’s house; in fact, it was almost expected at this point. His parents had practically adopted you into their family, treating you like one of their own. His mom always insisted you stay for dinner, and his dad would ask you about school or work like he would his own son. With the cats curling at your side, it felt warm here – comfortable, safe.

That’s why, when Lee Know casually mentioned, “You know, I think you spend more time at my parents’ house than at your own parents’,” with a teasing smile, he didn’t expect the way your body tensed ever so slightly.

It was brief, almost imperceptible, but he caught it.

You let out a small laugh, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Maybe you're right.”

He didn’t press, not yet, but the thought lingered in his mind. And then, as if the idea had just struck him, he said, “Maybe next time, I should come over to your place. Your parents probably think I don’t exist.”

Your reaction was immediate. A flicker of hesitation crossed your face, and for a moment, you looked like you wanted to say something – anything – but then, you just shrugged. “They’re busy,” you said vaguely. “They wouldn’t really care.”

That didn’t sit right with him. You had always been good at avoiding certain topics, but this one was different. This wasn’t just avoidance – it was reluctance, something deeper.

He tilted his head slightly, his voice softening. “You never really talk about them.”

You forced a smile. “There’s not much to talk about.”

Lee Know didn’t push. He knew you well enough to understand that if he did, you’d only retreat further into yourself. Instead, he nudged your arm lightly. “Well, if they’re too busy, you know that you can come over any time. I start to think that my mom already likes you better than me.”

Changbin

Changbin slumped onto the couch beside you, letting out a dramatic sigh. “When was the last time you even visited your parents?” he joked, nudging your shoulder playfully.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Oh, you know,” you said with heavy sarcasm, “got yelled at for every life decision I’ve ever made. Good times.”

The teasing glint in Changbin’s eyes disappeared in an instant. He frowned, tilting his head to get a better look at your expression, but you avoided his gaze, pretending to scroll through your phone. His heart sank at the forced nonchalance in your voice.

“Wait… what do you mean?” His voice softened, laced with concern.

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “You know how they are. Nothing I do is ever right. I could be a literal millionaire and they’d still find a way to tell me I messed up.” You let out a small, humorless laugh. “It’s just how it is.”

Changbin didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. “That’s not how it should be, though,” he murmured. “You deserve better than that.”

You blinked at his sincerity, feeling a lump form in your throat. “It’s fine, Bin. I’m used to it.”

He sighed, shifting closer so your shoulders touched. “That doesn’t make it okay,” he countered, his brows knitting together in frustration. 

You hesitated for a moment before speaking again, voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes, I wonder if I could ever be a good mom,” you admitted. “like… I never really got to experience what having a good mom feels like. What if I mess up the way they did?”

Changbin’s eyes softened, and he gently cupped your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Hey,” he said firmly. “You are already so full of love and care. The fact that you worry about that proves you’re going to be amazing. You won’t be like them. You get to choose the kind of parent you want to be.”

Your heart swelled at his words, warmth spreading through your chest. You had always carried the weight of your strained relationship with your parents alone.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I know.”

Hyunjin

Hyunjin had never been one to push too hard when it came to personal matters. He understood boundaries, respected them even. But every time the topic of parents came up – his or yours – you always managed to steer the conversation elsewhere. And most importantly, you had never once mentioned introducing him to them.

At first, he brushed it off, thinking you were just taking things slow. But after nearly a year together, it stung. It made him wonder if there was a reason, a reason that had everything to do with him.

That thought festered in his chest until one evening, it finally slipped out.

“Do you not want me to meet your parents?” His voice was soft, uncertain.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I mean… we’ve been together for a while now, but you never bring it up.” He forced a small chuckle, trying to keep his tone light even though it felt anything but. “I just… I guess I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of me.”

Your heart sank at the vulnerability in his voice. “Hyunjin—”

“Is it because I’m an idol?” He cut in before you could explain. “I know that might be weird for some parents, and if that’s the case, I get it. But I just—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his hair. “I don’t know. It feels like you don’t want to include me in that part of your life.”

You swallowed hard, guilt settling in.

“Hyunjin, it’s not that I don’t want you to meet them,” you said carefully, fingers gripping the fabric of your sleeves. “It’s just… my relationship with my parents isn’t great. It’s complicated.”

His eyes searched yours, confusion flickering across his face. “Complicated how?”

You hesitated. “We don’t really… talk much. When we do, it’s tense. We just don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

Hyunjin’s expression softened slightly. “Then why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“Because I didn’t want to talk about it,” you admitted. “It’s messy and frustrating, and I didn’t want to drag you into that.”

“But I want to be dragged into it,” he said, leaning forward. “I want to understand what’s going on in your life. That includes the bad parts, too.”

You looked away, the weight of his words settling in. “I guess… I was embarrassed.”

Hyunjin’s brows furrowed. “Embarrassed?”

“I don’t have the kind of parents who are loving and supportive,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “And I didn’t want you to see that and think less of me.”

“Y/N, I would never think less of you because of something like that.” He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “I just wanted to understand. I thought… I thought you didn’t want me to meet them because of me.”

You exhaled shakily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

Hyunjin shook his head, lips pressing into a thin line before he let out a breath. “I just want you to trust me enough to talk to me about these things.”

“I do,” you said quickly. “I just… I didn’t know how.”

Han

"So you don’t want me to meet your parents?" Han repeated, his voice softer than you expected. Not quite hurt or offended – just… concerned.

You swallowed hard, nodding. "It’s not that I don’t want you to. I just— I don’t think it’s a good idea."

He tilted his head, studying you. "Can you tell me why?"

You hesitated. Han had always been so good at making you feel safe, but there was still a deep-rooted instinct inside you that told you to keep this part of your life locked away. It wasn’t that your parents were abusive, not in the way people might think, but they had never really seen you. Not truly. Their love came with conditions, with expectations you could never quite meet.

"I just… I don’t want to put you in a situation where you're not treated well," you admitted, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "They don’t respect me, Han. And since you’re with me, they won’t respect you either. I don’t want that for you."

"I get it," he said quietly, his voice steady. "And I love that you’re thinking about me. But, baby… you don’t have to protect me from them."

You opened your mouth to argue, but he shook his head before you could.

"I’m not saying we have to go to a family dinner or anything," he continued. "But you don’t have to carry this alone. I know it’s complicated, and I know it sucks. But I don’t want you to think that you have to shield me from this part of your life just because you’ve been dealing with it alone for so long."

Your throat tightened. "But they’ll—"

"They can think whatever they want about me," he interrupted gently. "What matters is what you think. And if they don’t respect you, that’s on them. That’s not a reflection of who you are, and it’s definitely not going to change how I see you."

You exhaled shakily. "I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to let you meet them. I've spent too much time hoping they'll change."

Han smiled, squeezing your hands reassuringly. "That’s okay. We’ll take it at your pace. Just… don’t shut me out, okay? I want to be here for you. For everything."

Felix

Felix stretched his arms, groaning slightly as he leaned back against the couch. The two of you had been catching up on life the whole evening. He had just been telling you about his latest video call with his parents, laughing about how his mom still worried if he was eating enough.

"Honestly," he said between bites of the cookies he had brought over, "I think I see my parents more often than you see yours."

You froze, your fingers tightening around the mug of tea you were holding. The playful lilt in his voice made it clear that he hadn’t meant any harm, but the words hit you harder than you expected. Your mind ran through the last time you had actually visited your parents.

Felix must have noticed your sudden stillness, because when you looked up at him, his brows were slightly furrowed, eyes searching yours. 

"You’re not wrong," you admitted quietly, sipping your tea to avoid his gaze. "I think you really do."

"Oh. I— I didn’t mean to... I was just joking."

"I know," offering him a small smile. "It’s just… true."

A beat of silence stretched between you. Felix set his cookie down, shifting closer until his knee bumped against yours. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you never talked about your parents, but it always felt exhausting to explain the complicated mess that was your relationship with them. They weren’t cruel or absent, just distant – close enough to be in your life, but never truly present.

"Not much to say, really," you murmured. "We just don’t talk much. It’s always… weird. Like we don’t know how to be around each other."

Felix listened, nodding. "That sounds really lonely."

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the simple truth in his words. "Yeah," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "It kinda is."

Felix didn’t say anything at first. "You know," he said, voice warm and sure, "family doesn’t have to be just the people you’re born with."

Your chest tightened, not with sadness, but with something gentler.

Felix grinned, before nudging you playfully. "Well, for what it’s worth, my parents love adopting people into the family. You might already be part of it without knowing."

Seungmin

The living room was quiet except for the occasional tapping of Seungmin’s phone as he scrolled, stretched out comfortably on your couch. You sat beside him, your head resting against the couch cushion, feeling the warmth of his presence next to you. 

Then, your phone buzzed on the coffee table.

Mom flashed across the screen.

Seungmin glanced at it briefly before looking at you, expecting you to reach for it. But instead, you pressed decline without a second thought.

He blinked, his brows furrowing slightly. "You’re not gonna answer?"

You shrugged. "Nope."

He sat up a little, setting his phone down. "Why not? It could be important."

"Unlikely," you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

The confusion on his face lingered for a moment before realization set in. "You don’t really talk to her much, do you?"

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. "Not if I can help it."

Seungmin didn’t respond right away, just watched you carefully. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "You guys don’t get along?"

"Not really," you admitted. "We just... don’t see things the same way. Talking always turns into a disagreement, and honestly, it’s exhausting. It’s easier to just not deal with it."

Seungmin hummed, a quiet sound of understanding. 

For a moment, he just sat there, thinking. Then, without warning, he leaned over and lightly nudged your shoulder with his own. "You don’t have to pretend you’re fine."

You glanced at him, surprised by how easily he saw through you.

He tilted his head, his expression unreadable yet undeniably gentle. "You’re allowed to be upset about it. You don’t have to act like it doesn’t bother you."

Something in your chest loosened. You hadn’t even realized how much tension you’d been carrying until now.

"Thanks," you murmured.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Anytime." 

I.N

You sighed as you scrolled through your messages, the same feeling of disappointment creeping in. Your parents had sent another message in the family group chat – one of their usual updates about your sibling, filled with admiration and excitement. You were happy for them, truly. But every time you saw their name being praised while yours was barely acknowledged, the ache in your chest deepened.

I.N sat beside you on the couch, watching your face shift from neutral to something more distant. He nudged your arm gently. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You hesitated before tilting your phone toward him. He skimmed the messages, his features tightening as he put the pieces together. He already knew the story – how your relationship with your parents had grown distant ever since you chose a different path, how they seemed to relate more to your sibling, leaving you feeling like an outsider in your own family. He also knew you weren’t looking for pity.

Instead of offering empty words, I.N put your phone aside. “Does it hurt?” he asked quietly.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “A little,” you admitted. “I mean, I moved out as soon as I could, and I’ve been independent for a while, so I shouldn’t care so much. But… it’s like no matter what I do, I’m not enough for them.”

I.N frowned. “That’s not true. You are enough. They just… don’t see you the way they should, and that’s on them, not you.”

You looked at him, feeling a flicker of warmth in his gaze. He wasn’t trying to fix it. He wasn’t telling you to move on or pretend it didn’t matter. 

“You’ve built a life for yourself that you love, haven’t you?” he continued. “That takes courage. And just because they don’t recognize it doesn’t make it any less real.”

A small, wobbly smile broke through your somber expression.

I.N grinned, giving your hand a playful squeeze. “I just know you. And I know that you deserve to be seen, to be valued. Even if they don’t show it, I will.”

You exhaled, leaning into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Innie.”

masterlist

[mariclerc]

Hi, I wanted to ask if you could write something with Charles Leclerc based on the song Sports Car by tate mcrae

thank you for this request darling!! I did my best trying to recreate the exact meaning and the essence of the song into the blurb, I hope you like it!!

Let's go ride | cl16

Warning: fluff, suggestive language, insecure reader, somewhat unprotected smut don't try this at home (+18). Based on "Sports car" by Tate McRae.

It's late at night in Monte Carlo, the streets are so quiet, illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights and the twinkling lights of the harbor. You and Charles are in his Ferrari, the cool night air rushing through your hair. You’ve been dating for a while now, feeling comfortable in each other’s presence, but still with a spark of excitement that keeps things fresh.

The Ferrari cruises slowly along the waterfront, the music is low, some chilled-out electronic beats. You lean back in your seat, watching the lights dance on the water.

You sighed contentedly. “It’s so beautiful here baby, thank you for bringing me out.”

He glanced at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “My pleasure, amour. Sometimes it’s nice to escape the chaos of the fast paced world and just… breathe... Especially with you.” (love)

He reaches out and takes your hand, squeezing it gently and you squeezed it back.

You look around. “It's crazy, though, seeing all this wealth, all this luxury… it almost feels unreal.”

He chuckled softly. “Welcome to Monaco! It's a different world, yeah, it is. But you get used to it.”

“I don't think I ever will, to be honest. It's like something out of a movie.” you say softly and he smiled.

“Maybe it is... Our very own movie, starring you and me.” he wink at you.

He drives in silence for a few minutes, navigating the winding streets with practiced ease. You watch him, admiring the way his hands move on the wheel, the way his jawline catches the light.

“You make it look so easy.” you think aloud.

“What, driving?” he asked, confused.

“Everything... Racing, dealing with the pressure, living this crazy life… you handle it all with such grace.”

He scoffed playfully. “Grace? You should see me after a bad race. I'm not always so… composed.”

“I know, but even then, you’re still… you. That’s what I admire.” you smiled.

His voice soft. “Thank you, babe. It’s not always easy, living in the spotlight. But having you by my side… it makes it a little bit easier... A lot easier.”

He turns down a quiet side alley, away from the main traffic. He pulls over to the side of the road, killing the engine, the silence is broken only by the sound of the waves lapping against the shore.

“What are you doing?”

He turned to face you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I thought we could use a little… privacy, don't you think?”

He leans in and kisses you, a slow, tender kiss that lingers. You melt into him, your hands reaching up to cup his face.

You pulled away slightly, breathless. “Privacy, huh?”

He nodded. “Yeah, and maybe a little bit of… this.”

He kisses you again, this time more passionately, his hands sliding down to your waist. You moan softly, your body tingling with anticipation.

He pulled you closer. “You are so beautiful, stellina. Do you know that?” (little star)

You blushed. “Yeah, I know... You tell me that all the time.” you giggled.

He nods. “Good, because I'm going to keep telling you until you believe it.”

He pulls you onto his lap, straddling him. You gasp slightly, surprised by the sudden movement.

“Charles! What are you doing?” you laughed nervously.

He kisses your neck. “Making sure my baby is comfortable. Are you comfortable, darling?” you nodded.

He continues to kiss you, his hands exploring your body. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close.

After a few moments of passionate kissing, you pull back slightly, a daring and wild idea forming in your mind.

You look at him, your voice is a little husky. “Charles…?”

His voice low, filled with desire. “Yes, tesoro?” (darling)

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should say what you're thinking. But the heat of the moment, the thrill of being with him, overpowers your shyness. He has always made you feel confident, both physically and mentally, and when it comes to being intimate, well, you're a little bit shy... But you have a feeling that might change tonight.

You speak with a newfound boldness. “I want to ride you.” you say softly, but sure.

Charles freezes, his eyes widening in surprise. The air crackles with a sudden electricity. “Ri… ride me? Here? Now?” he says, stammering.

You nodded, your eyes locking with his. “Yes... Here... Now.”

He swallowed hard. “But… amore.” (love)

“Is that a no?” you asked teasingly.

He shakes his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. “No, is not a no... Just… unexpected. But definitely… intriguing.”

“Good, because I've been thinking about it all night.” you smile.

His voice dropping to a whisper. “And what exactly have you been thinking about, stellina?”

You leaned closer, whispering softly. “About how good it would feel… to be on top, to be in control.”

Charles shivers, his eyes darkening with desire. “My god, baby... You are going to be the death of me.” his voice hoarse.

“Maybe, but it will be a good death.” you smiled mischievously.

You lean in and kiss him again, a kiss that promises a night of passion and exploration... This time, the kiss is more demanding, more urgent. You want him, and you want him now.

He pulled away slightly, his breathing ragged. “Alright, amore, you want to be in control, huh? Then show me.”

He leans back in his seat, giving you the space to move and you straddle him more fully, your bodies pressing together and you can feel his arousal against you, a confirmation of his desire.

The small confines of the Ferrari feel suddenly intimate, charged with a palpable energy. The city lights outside seem to fade into a soft blur as your focus narrows to Charles, to the heat radiating from his body, to the promise in his eyes.

He watches you, a mixture of awe and anticipation on his face, as you reach down and begin to unbutton your jacket. Your movements are slow, deliberate, each button undone a small act of defiance against the night, against the quiet alley, against the expectations of the world outside.

“Piano, amore. There's no rush.” his voice's husky, almost a whisper. (slow, love)

You looked up at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I know... But I want you.”

You shrug off your jacket, letting it fall to the floor of the car. You're now wearing a simple dress that clings to your curves, Charles' gaze intensifies, tracing the lines of your body with an almost tangible heat.

His voice thick with desire. “You are breathtaking.”

You blush, your confidence is growing, fueled by his admiration. You reach behind you, fumbling with the zipper of your dress.

“Can you help me with this, please?” you struggle slightly.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he carefully lowers the zipper and a shiver runs down your spine.

His voice soft against your ear. “Of course, it's always a pleasure.”

As the zipper reaches the bottom, the dress slips off your shoulders, pooling around your waist. You're now straddling him in your lingerie - a set you chose specifically for this occasion, something that makes you feel both sensual and empowered.

Charles' breath hitches in his throat. He reaches out, gently tracing the lace of your bra with his fingertips.

His voice reverent. “Exquisite, just like you.” he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone. “May I…?” he whispered.

You nod, unable to speak, your heart pounding in your chest.

He gently unhooks the clasp of your bra, releasing your breasts. He gazes at them, his eyes filled with admiration.

“Perfect.” his voice husky and low.

He leans in and kisses one breast, then the other, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. You arch your back, moaning softly.

Now it's your turn and you reach out to him, your hands trembling slightly, and begin to unbutton his shirt. The fabric feels warm beneath your fingertips, infused with his scent. Charles closes his eyes, surrendering to your touch.

As you unbutton each button, you catch glimpses of his chest - the strong muscles, the faint scars that tell a story of a life lived on the edge. You trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips, then lean in and kiss his neck and he groans softly, his hands gripping your waist.

You finish unbuttoning his shirt and gently push it off his shoulders, his chest is now bare, exposed to your loving gaze. You run your hands across his skin, feeling the warmth, the strength, the life that pulses beneath.

“You are beautiful, Charles, so incredibly beautiful.” you whispered.

He opens his eyes, his gaze filled with love and gratitude. “And so are you, amore mio. So are you.” his voice soft, filled with emotion. (my love)

You reach down and unbuckle his belt, then slowly lower the zipper of his trousers. He sucks in a breath, his body tense with anticipation. You slide his trousers down his legs, revealing his boxer briefs, you pause, looking up at him, seeking his permission and he nodded, his eyes filled with desire.

You lower his boxer briefs, revealing his arousal. He is magnificent, powerful, and utterly vulnerable.

You reach out, gently cupping him in your hand. He groans, his body arching towards you.

His voice hoarse. “Oh, holy… fuck...”

You begin to caress him, your touch both gentle and firm, exploring every curve, every contour. He closes his eyes, surrendering to the pleasure, his body trembling with need.

After a few moments, you stop, looking up at him, your eyes filled with a challenge.

“What now, amore?” you asked him in a whisper.

He opens his eyes, his gaze burning with desire. “Now… you ride me.” his voice barely audible.

The moonlight catches the planes of his face, highlighting the desire that burns in his eyes. He's surrendered control, placing his pleasure, his trust, completely in your hands.

You straddle him fully, your thighs pressing against his, igniting a firestorm of sensations. The leather of the seat is cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Charles' body. You lean down, your breasts brushing against his chest, and whisper in his ear.

Your voice husky, filled with a newfound confidence. “Are you ready, baby?”

He groans softly, his hands gripping your waist. “More than ready.”

You lean back slightly, giving yourself a moment to take him in. His eyes are closed, his face contorted in a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability. You run your hands down his chest, feeling the hard muscles, the rapid pulse of his heart.

“Open your eyes, Charles. I want you to see me.” you whispered.

He obeys, his eyes meeting yours. They're dark, dilated with desire.

You begin to move, slowly at first, rocking your hips back and forth. The sensation is electrifying, the friction igniting a firestorm within you.

His voice strained. “Oh god… fuck...”

You increase the pace, your movements becoming more rhythmic, more demanding. You can feel him straining beneath you, his muscles tense, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Does that feel good, babe?” you whispered exhilarated.

He nods, unable to speak, his body arching towards you.

You continue to ride him, your movements becoming more frantic, more desperate.. You can feel yourself spiraling out of control, your body consumed by a tidal wave of pleasure.

“Oh, Charles…” you moaned.

He reaches up, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements, intensifying the pleasure. “Faster, amore. Faster…” his voice's ragged with pleasure.

You obey, your body moving in perfect sync with his. You can feel the pressure building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you.

“I’m close, Charlie… so close…” you gasped.

He pulls you closer, his mouth finding yours in a desperate and heated kiss. His tongue plunges into your mouth, mirroring the rhythm of your bodies, intensifying the sensation.

And then, it hits you; a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washes over you, your body convulsing in a series of intense, shuddering orgasms. You cry out his name, your body trembling, your mind blank.

He groans, his body arching beneath you, his muscles tense and rigid. He reaches the same peak, his orgasm erupting within you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

You both collapse against each other, breathless and exhausted, your bodies slick with sweat. The small confines of the car feel suddenly too small to contain the intensity of your shared experience.

You lie there for a long moment, catching your breath, listening to the sound of your own racing heart. The silence is broken only by the soft moans and groans of satisfaction.

Finally, you pull back slightly, looking down at Charles. His eyes are closed, his face relaxed, a small smile playing on his plumped lips.

“Are you alright?” you whispered softly.

He opens his eyes, his gaze filled with love and admiration. “More than alright, chérie. More than alright.” his voice soft, filled with emotion. He reaches up, gently stroking your hair. “Thank you… for that.” he whispered. (honey)

You smile, your heart swelling with joy. “You liked it?” you asked teasingly.

He laughs softly.

“I loved it baby, you were… incredible.” his voice serious. Then he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. “You know, I never thought I would enjoy being on the receiving end of that so much.” he whispered.

You laugh, pushing him playfully.

“Oh, really?” you say teasing.

His voice earnest. “Really, it was… liberating. To let go of control, to surrender to you.” he pulled you closer, holding you tight. “You have a power over me, amore. A power that I’ve never felt before.” he whispered.

You snuggle into his embrace, feeling safe and loved.

“And you have a power over me, Charles. A power that makes me want to be… daring, to be brave and get out of my comfort zone from time to time.” you whispered softly.

Suddenly you pause, considering your next words carefully.

“So... What now?” you whispered.

He smiles, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Now… we clean up. And then… we find somewhere a little more comfortable.” he whispered. “Perhaps, our bed, huh?” he says and you giggled.

“Now you speak my language!” you smiled and smuggled closer to him.

He made a heart on the fogged up car window and you just smiled at the sight, a late night escape route ended up being something completely different and all thanks to your restlessness and need to be more daring in the intimacy and, of course, thanks to him who gives you that impulse to do it.

[luminiamore]

my love, mine all mine.

eren yeager x black female reader (bestfriend)

warnings: oral sex, fluffyness, jealous eren, soft sex, eren is kinda a nerd, creampies and a tight grip super soaker

enjoy and happy late valentine’s day!! :))

You were buried in your textbooks at your campus library, the various pages spread out before you. Psychology. An interesting major if you say so yourself. You thought it’d be simple enough: learning about how the human mind works and what makes people tick. It was fascinating, really.

And yet here you were, hunched over on the slightly uncomfortable chair, trying your hardest to remember exactly what your professor meant by “cognitive dissonance” and how it related to human behavior. You could feel your mind starting to wander as you tried to read through this particularly dense section.

Your focus was absolute, trying to absorb as much as you could for your upcoming midterm. The world outside this small corner you had found didn’t exist—just you and your thoughts. The peace and quiet here were comforting. It was rare that you could study without distractions and were determined to take full advantage of it.

You sighed and momentarily leaned back in your chair, the quiet hum of the library your only companion. The chair creaked slightly as you stretched, glancing out the window. Students were scattered everywhere, likely heading to their next class. The soft light from the afternoon sun cast a gentle glow through the glass, and you found a certain beauty in it.

You’re about to head back to your studies when something interrupts you. Someone, actually.

A shadow loomed over your desk, casting a slight imbalance in your peaceful space. A little startled, you looked up to see a tall figure standing beside you. You didn’t need to look too hard to recognize him—Eren—your best friend since grade school.

You blinked, a bit caught off guard. He wore a white wife beater that clung to his frame a little too tight. His jeans looked worn, with traces of dirt hinting at a long work day. A mechanic’s job was never exactly pristine, you guessed. He must’ve just gotten off his shift.

“You studying?” his voice smooth like it always was when he was trying to get your attention.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes softly. “What does it look like?” You gestured to the open textbooks and scattered notes with a slight flush. You mentally, thank God, it wasn’t visible. “Psych is kicking my ass. I’m starting to wonder why I thought this would be easy.”

He leaned against the edge of your table, his arms crossed. His recent gym visits have been seriously paying off, and it’s impossible not to notice. You look away from him and face your laptop, determined not to let him catch you staring. “Maybe you thought you could magically understand the human psyche,” he’s teasing you like he always does.

You shot him a half-smile, unable to resist his charm. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought,” sarcasm dripping from your voice. “But I’m pretty sure I’m about to fail the midterm at this rate.”

He stifles a snicker. “Nah, you’re too smart for that.” He pushed himself off the table, walked around to the chair next to you, and sat down casually. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

You tried not to let his proximity distract you, but it was hard. Downright impossible. His scent—a mix of motor oil, the fresh air from his work, and something else uniquely him—was all around you now. It was distracting. Stubborn that you are, you brush it off. Doesn’t mean anything. You shifted in your seat, pretending to focus on the words on the screen. Focus.

“So, what exactly is giving you the most trouble?” his gaze never leaving you.

You exhaled deeply, closing your textbook with a slight thud. “Theories of personality,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. “I just can’t wrap my head around it. Freud and Jung… are so complicated. Like, how are we supposed to remember all this?”

He gives you an uncommitted hum and starts explaining it to you. Eren had this ability to make anything he said sound convincing, even if it was complete bullshit. You suppose it’s his confidence.

He was close. Too close.

He leaned in when describing Freud, his arm brushing against yours as he pointed at your notes. The warmth of his bare skin sent a shiver down your spine, but you forced yourself to focus on the words he was saying and not the way his voice sounded when he spoke so close to your ear.

His eyes stayed on you even as you stared down at your notes. They were sharp as if he were studying you more than the material before you. He tilted his head slightly, watching the way your lips parted in thought, the way your fingers tapped absently against the notebook as you processed what he had just explained.

He always thought you were beyond beautiful.

“You just need to simplify it,” he interrupts his own thoughts from going further.

He never hesitated to break the invisible barriers most people respected. You had never minded before. At least, you told yourself you didn’t.

When he finally finished his explanation, you blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard by how easily he made it all make sense. For a second, you forgot how smart he was.

“Okay, that helps,” you murmured, scribbling down his words before they slipped from your mind. You could still feel his gaze on you, but you kept your focus trained on the paper in front of you, trying to ignore how your fingers suddenly felt clumsier holding the pen. “I forget you have an almost 4.0.”

Eren leaned back, stretching lazily, the movement drawing your attention to the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt. What is wrong with you today? He simply shrugged, “I’m just that good.”

That twinkle in his eyes—that mischievous glint he always had after saying something cocky—made your stomach flip in a way that annoyed you. You were used to it, used to him, but lately, it felt different. Lately, you were noticing too much.

His voice softened just a little as he added, “But, seriously, you’re gonna ace this thing. I believe in you.”

You forced yourself to roll your eyes, but the small, grateful smile you gave him betrayed you.

“Thanks, Ren,” you said quietly, tapping your pen against your notebook, something you picked up as a nervous habit. You cleared your throat, needing to shake the feeling away. “I trust you or whatever.”

“Good,” he replied instantly, watching you a beat longer than necessary. “But if you fail, I’ll take the blame.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Sure. I’ll blame the nigga who cheated his way through high school but somehow knows more about psychology than I do.”

His smirk widened, and instead of arguing, he gave you a wide smile, looking way too pleased with himself.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

The library had started to empty out after a few hours, the quiet hum of students packing up their things filling the space around you. You sighed, stretching your arms over your head as you finally closed your textbook. “I think that’s enough psych for one night,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes.

Eren, who had been scrolling through his phone while waiting for you to finish, pushed off the table with a lazy grin. “Took you long enough.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, stuffing your belongings into the LV monochrome bag Eren had gotten you for your birthday last year. He sees it as a way of staking his claim on you. He fell into step beside you effortlessly as you walked out of the library, the cool evening air from the hallway AC brushing against your skin.

“You actually gonna remember any of that next week?” he asked, nudging your shoulder.

You huffed. “I’d like to think so.”

He snorted, shaking his head, but before he could get another jab in, a voice called out your name from just ahead.

You both turned in unison.

A guy. From your psych class—tall, almost matching Eren’s height, though not quite—was making his way toward you. His curls were neat, framing his face in a way that made him look effortlessly put together. His skin was fair, and his smile was easy and friendly.

He was dressed in a fitted long-sleeve shirt, the fabric clinging just enough to suggest he worked out but not in a way that screamed it. The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing forearms that were toned. It was paired with gray sweats. He was cute.

His hands were shoved into his pockets, his stride unhurried as he approached, like he had all the time in the world. His gaze flickered between you and Eren briefly before settling on you, his smile widening just a touch as he finally spoke.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt, but I just wanted to catch you before you left.”

You blinked in surprise, vaguely recognizing him in lectures from a few rows ahead of you. He was one of those students who always had the answer, constantly engaged in class discussions. A teacher’s pet almost. You never really talked outside of the occasional group work.

Your best friend shifted beside you. His arms remained loosely crossed over his chest, but there was a new stiffness in his stance, as if he was suddenly more aware of his own posture. His weight shifted slightly from one foot to the other, his jaw ticking just the slightest bit. You didn’t think much of it at first—Eren was always fidgeting in some way.

You tilted your head slightly, blinking up at the guy. “Oh—what’s up?”

He hesitated just a second as if gathering the nerve, before rubbing the back of his neck with a small, almost sheepish smile. “I, uh… I’ve seen you in class a lot, and, well… I was wondering if you’d wanna grab coffee sometime? Maybe this Saturday?”

There was a beat of silence.

Your brain took longer than usual to process what he said. It wasn’t like people never asked you out, but something about this moment—maybe the unexpectedness of it, maybe the presence of Eren beside you—had you hesitating.

Your best friend, however, didn’t hesitate at all.

You felt the way his jaw tightened, just a tiny twitch, but you noticed it because you always notice things about him. His stance changed, going from casually relaxed to something more grounded, like he was unconsciously bracing himself. Learning Psychology does pay off in some cases.

His voice, when it came, was firm.

“Sorry, we have plans that day. Don’t we, (꣑ৎ)?”

Your eyes flickered toward Eren, surprise flashing across your face, but he didn’t look at you. His gaze remained locked on the guy in front of you, his expression is unreadable. His green eyes, usually lazy and half-lidded with amusement, were hardened now in a way that sent a clear message. She’s unavailable.

It seems the guy wasn’t so easily deterred. He hesitated only for a second before his strained smile returned, a little tighter than before. “Oh. Sunday, then?”

His voice was lighter, forcedly casual—like he was only picking up on the tension in the air.

You barely had time to open your mouth, to form even the beginning of a response, before Eren spoke for you. Again. Are you just invisible?

“No can do,” his tone leaving no room for argument. “She has a midterm coming up that she needs to study for.” His head tilted slightly, almost like he was appraising the guy in front of him, before adding, “Speaking of, you should be catching up on that too, right?”

The question wasn’t really a question, that much you knew.

The guy stood there, blinking, an almost shocked look on his face, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say. His mouth opened slightly before closing again, and for the first time since approaching you, he seemed genuinely unsure of himself.

Eren, more than satisfied with that reaction, barely gave him another second to recover before turning toward you. “We’ll be leaving now,” he said simply.

And just like that, he placed a hand against the small of your back, steering you down the hallway without so much as another glance at the guy he had just dismissed. You walked in silence, your mind racing, but you held your tongue, deciding to wait until you reached your dorm room before you interrogated him on whatever the hell just happened.

The soft click of your shoes echoed in the otherwise quiet hallway. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that Eren had done more than step in to save you from a potentially awkward situation. The way he responded, the way he shut it all down before you even had a chance to speak—it wasn’t the usual playful teasing that he was known for.

As you reached the door to your dorm, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You turned to face him, narrowing your eyes. “Okay, what the fuck was that?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Eren didn’t even flinch. His posture was relaxed as if he already knew you were going to challenge him, as if he was waiting for it. He didn’t even look at you when he spoke. “What are you talking about?”

You raised an eyebrow, the frustration in you bubbling to the surface. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You practically scared him off and answered for me like I couldn’t say no myself.”

Eren pushed himself off the doorframe right then, he didn’t wait for you to catch up—he just walked into your room, leaving the door hanging open. “I just did what needed to be done,” he shrugged.

His back was still to you, and you couldn’t entirely ignore the way his long, dark hair—extensions, you’d noticed before—swung just below his shoulders as he moved. He always looks so pretty with his hair down.

You followed him inside, refusing to let go of the subject.

“What needed to be done? Are you serious? Eren, you shut the guy down before he could even finish his sentence. I barely had a chance to say anything.” You stopped in the doorway, trying to keep your voice steady before you slammed the door shut.

Eren turned to face you, a grin slowly spreading across his face, like he found it all amusing. His eyes got slightly hooded as he eyed you up and down. The outfit you wore left little to the imagination, and all he could think about was.. How could he let anyone else have you?

“Why are you upset? He was making you uncomfortable. It’s my job to step in when that happens.” His gaze flickered over to your face once more, almost like he was daring you to argue.

Before you could respond, he adds, “Unless… you wanted to go out with him?”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief, dropping you bag on the nearby desk before turning back to face him, “I wouldn’t even know, cause once again, you didn’t even give me a chance to respond!”

He groaned, the sound almost exaggerated. His eyes rolled dramatically, like he was irked that you weren’t just agreeing with him. “Oh please, girl. He wasn’t even taller than me. He looks scrawny as fuck. He looks like a pussy. You deserve someone better than that.” He practically waved the whole thing off with a flick of his hand.

You stared at him for a moment, caught off guard by the bluntness of his words.

“And what? That someone is you?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you instantly regretted how it sounded—like you were baiting him.

Eren stepped closer to where you were standing, closing the space between you. His body was warm, his scent—it was clouding you as he looked down at you. There was a beat of silence.

His response comes out slow, “Could be,”

Your breath hitches, almost caught in your throat. You mind can’t understand what is happening, it never can when Eren is this close to you. His eyes are dark, more intense than they’d been a moment ago. Your pulse quickens, and you couldn’t stop yourself from looking down at his lips for a split second before snapping your gaze back up to his eyes. With the way your mouth opens and closes repeated, it was clear you didn’t know what to say.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Eren’s voice was barely a whisper now, his breath warm against your lips, his hand tentatively grasping your waist.

“Nothing,” you manage to whisper, your voice coming out shaky, unsure if you even believe your own words.

Eren’s lips twitch upward at your lie, you’re so cute sometimes. You’re fucking gorgeous all the time. His grip gets slightly tighter when he feels you don’t push away. You can’t stop yourself from leaning into his touch, from leaning into how the heat in your chest turns into something that pools low in your stomach.

“You’re lying,” he murmurs, voice rougher now. His thumb traces mindlessly circles on your skin, and you find yourself losing all self-control.

Your heart is racing, but it’s not from fear. Far from it. It’s from the way he’s making you feel alive in a way that only he could do. You can feel the uncomfortable stickiness pooling underneath your skirt.

His other hand moves up, cupping your chin gently but firmly, tilting your face upward to meet his gaze. There’s no mistaking the way his eyes flicker down to your lips again, and there’s a certain hunger in them.

His voice carries that commanding tone you’ve always known too well. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his thumb gently grazing your bottom lip, making you inhale sharply. “Lemme help you get the words out. That okay?”

And when he does lean in, it’s not like anything you ever felt before. His lips brush against yours gently at first, being the tease that he is. Then, without warning, he deepens the kiss, his other hand coming up to slide into your neatly done butterfly locs, gripping it just enough to tilt your head back slightly.

You’re desperate, and your best friend knows it—the way your fingers clutch at the thin fabric of his shirt, practically begging. He pulls away just long enough to yank it over his head. The string of spit still barely connecting you makes something dark flicker in his eyes, his restraint snapping completely. The next kiss he goes in for is more forceful.

You try to push eren back, just a little, but he barely budges—barely even lets you catch your breath. The taste of him is overwhelming, as you manage to get the words out between shallow breaths. “Ren, Are you—Are you sure about this?”

“Never been more sure about anything in my life.” He moves fast, tugging the strings of your white top, pushing it down until it slips from your shoulders, falling to the floor. His lips stay on yours, the sweet taste of your strawberry lip gloss making him crave more. He feels like he might cum, just from kissing you—embarrassing as that is.

You’re the one more concerned, your voice faltering, “But what—Ah! I don’t want to ruin our friend…ship.”

His lips wander further down. Pressing feather-light kisses to the crook of your shoulders before he moves back up to where your sweet spot is. He doesn’t hesitate to harshly grip your beautiful breasts, pulling at both of your brown nipples the best he can while his mouth and brain are preoccupied. The moan you let out is sinful, staggering, really, as you find your brain getting more hazy with each move he makes.

You think he hasn’t heard you when he doesn’t answer right away. Eren gently pushes you back, guiding you to the chair by your desk. He makes you sit with a firm hand and then drops to his knees in front of you, his gaze intense as he speaks again, “You really wanna stay just friends after this?”

He sucks at the skin of your soft thighs as his hands work to slip your boots off. Your eyes widen when he unbuttons your shorts, prompting you to slightly lift up to make it easier for him to slide it off of you. Before you can answer his previous questions, he’s interrupting you, “No bra or panties? Were you expecting this to happen (꣑ৎ)?”

You release a pathetic whimper when he moves closer to your sopping core, taking a deep inhale like he’s trying to commit your scent to his memory forever. You shake your head at his accusation, but it’s clear he doesn’t believe you when he takes two of his thick fingers to spread you open, revealing your tiny clit barely hidden behind its hood.

“You’re making a mess, baby. You need my help to clean it up?”

He needs to shut up. His words, his voice, do nothing but make you wetter. Eren slowly starts rubbing your clit, barely applying enough pressure to give you the stimulate you need and it’s starting to get you frustrated. “Answer Ren, baby. Do you need my help?”

You let out a cute squeal when he blows on your mound, and you’re too depraved to do anything but listen. “Yes! Yes, please help me!”

And nothing if not devoted to you, he listens. Eren places a wet, open-mouth kiss on your twitching pearl. He’s slow with his movements, savoring the honey-like taste of you that’s just pouring into his awaiting mouth. He moves his tongue in slow circles, up and down, drinking the juice coming from your slit.

You’re struggling to breathe, the pressure that’s building up all too quickly is too overwhelming. He’s not just eating you out. Eren is making love to your sweet pussy. It’s breaking you apart.

His ministrations on your dripping sap continue for a minute before he gets impatient and slips one long finger inside of you. And God, you’re tight. Gripping onto his finger so firmly, it’s almost like you never want him to leave. He begins pushing them in and out slowly.

You breathe out, “Eren! Oh my- Goddd.”

The squelches your pussy was singing become louder and more obscene. Your best friend considers that as his starting point to add another finger that is equally big and long. They both curl up to reach your G-spot instantly. The minute he found it, he just didn’t let up. Despite his slow pace, he continues to abuse your sensitive area. You’re gonna cum.

“Are you gonna cum? All over my ‘pretty’ face?” He’s throwing your own words right back at you. You were never shy about telling Eren how good he looked, and maybe that’s exactly how you ended up here.

You’re quick to nod, unable to keep silent as broken moans escape from your mouth, “M’gonna c-cum! Right there- Oh!”

How quickly your release hits you is unexpected. You gush. Streams of squirt land all over Eren’s fingers, and his face even lands on his hair, leaving it a bit damp. He gazes in astonishment as your eyes roll in the back of your head during your dramatic convulsions, and he groans into your essence. He looks down to look at the mess you made and— Oh. You creamed, too.

Fuck. He loves it. He loves that he’s the only one who can make you do that. He loves you. He also realizes that he needs to be inside you. Now.

The movements he makes, from removing you from the chair to your single bed, are hazy. You’re not sure how you got there; your brain is still trying to process the most intense, body-curling orgasm you’ve ever had in your life. But you’re quick to feel something wide and heavy pressing at your still-gushing entrance.

“M’gonna put it in now, kay?” Eren figures giving you a warning is the least he could do before rearranging your guts and mushing your insides.

You beg him to fuck you already by whining and grinding on his leaking tip. After laughing at the sight, he leans in to give you a deep kiss. You’re gasping and mewling in his mouth as you finally feel him push in.

He’s gasping in your mouth. Feeling his mind starting to scramble at the feeling of suffocating cunt. God, you’re perfect. “Is it- Is it in yet?”

He snickers. God, you’re just so cute. “No, baby. Not even halfway.”

You’re whimpering, hiccuping as small tears start to pool in your lower lash line. You’re clenching around him so tightly, and the more he pushes in, he is trying his best not to cum so quickly. He decides to plunge the rest of his eight inches in one go. Fuck you’re so loud, sputtering and wailing at the feeling of being so.. Full. You’re so full.

“Move- Move, please. Oh my-”

You don’t have to tell him twice. He steadily drags his cock away from your cervix, pulling out all the way before he pushes back inside again, hard. He repeats this. Once, twice, thrice more, and God, you “Can’t take it-it.”

He shushes your whines, kissing the tears falling down your cheeks, reaffirming you, “Of course you can, baby. I’ll even help you, yeah?”

His attentiveness is entirely too much. You’re babbling when his hand reaches in between you both to rub your swollen clit in rapid circles. A complete contrast to his way of fucking you.

The pressure in your lower abdomen is building at such a fast speed. Every harsh thrust against your cervix is painful like he’s trying to prove a point. But it feels oh so good.

“You feel so fucking good. I want you to cum, baby. Make a mess, just like you did on my face. Can you do that for me?”

You’re nodding and spluttering incoherently about how you can, how you will. You’d do anything for him. Both of your holes are releasing the most beautiful sounds. Eren presses a messy kiss onto your plump lips without waiting for you to respond, causing drool to escape from both of you. The sheets below you are feelable because of your wetness.

With a few more strokes, your body convulses once more. This time, your best friend has an up-close view of how beautiful you look in your most vulnerable state. Your orgasm gets even stronger when you feel Eren whimper against your lips and his own release, caused by the feeling of your spraying all over him.

His thrusts don’t change its pace as he stuffs you full of his seed. Your eyes look dazed, your makeup slightly ruined, and your lip combo nowhere to be found. He still can’t help but think you look just as gorgeous. He places one final peck on your lips before he speaks once more,

“I’m taking you out on a date this Saturday.”

Guess he wasn’t kidding when he said you two had plans that day.

🏷️: @keraawrites

[kiwriteswords]

Sweet Comic Valentine [Aaron Hotchner x Best Friend!Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 600|| AN: a lil v-day fluffy friends-to-lovers ficlet for my ki2k Fluff day! Requests are still open for Ki2k!!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, Valentine's Day, friends-to-lovers, fluff, no use of y/n, bau!reader

Summary: Why spend Valentine's alone when you could spend it with your boss, who is halfway in love with you?

The bullpen at Quantico was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that only a holiday like Valentine's Day could bring.

Desks were empty, computers slept, and the usual hustle of agents seemed like a distant memory. Only the soft hum of the fluorescent lights filled the air as you sat at your desk, drowning in paperwork that didn't know it was a day for lovers.

You had always been close to Hotch, your boss and, somehow, your closest friend within the rigid walls of the FBI.

The two of you had mastered the art of dancing around each other's emotions, a choreography too complex to disturb with confessions or truths that might disrupt the balance you had so carefully maintained.

But the truth was there, simmering beneath every shared glance, every half-smile in the hallway--both of you harbored feelings deeper than the façade of friendship you presented.

He was meticulous, always two steps ahead in every case, yet you could almost read his mind when it came to his next move. And he…well, he seemed to hear your thoughts before they ever made it to your lips. This silent understanding had become your unspoken language, comfortable and familiar.

As the clock ticked closer to the end of a seemingly endless day, you were resigned to spend another Valentine's Day alone, surrounded by cold cases rather than the warmth of a romantic dinner. That was until you heard his steady footsteps approaching your desk, an uncommon sound in the stillness of the evening.

"Hey," Hotch started, his voice breaking through the quiet like a soft but unexpected melody. He stood by your desk, hands in his pockets, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. "I was thinking, instead of both of us spending tonight here, buried under all this," he gestured vaguely to the mountains of paper on your desk, then to his own, "maybe we could go grab dinner?”

As Hotch's invitation to dinner hung in the air, you couldn't help but let out a scoff, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You do know what day it is, right?" you asked, half-amused, half-serious.

His response came with a hint of amusement, as if he was in on a joke you hadn't heard yet. "Yes, I'm aware it's February 14th," he said, the corners of his lips tugging upward slightly.

"Yeah, Valentine's Day," you pressed on, folding your arms over your chest, "which means any place worth its salt is booked solid. Finding a reservation now would be impossible."

Hotch's smile broadened, clearly pleased with himself. "I know what day it is," he repeated, "which is exactly why I made a reservation weeks ago."

Your confusion was evident as you processed his words. This seemed a little over the top for just two friends grabbing dinner. "What if I had a date tonight?" you asked playfully, challenging him. "You just assumed I’d be free?"

He looked back at you, his amusement clear. "Given that we've spent the last few Valentine's Days in the same way--working late, alone--I figured it was a safe bet. Besides," he added, his tone teasing yet gentle, "I wouldn’t take up your evening without making sure you had a memorable dinner to look forward to."

There was a warmth in his voice that made it hard to stay mock-offended. Hotch had always been thoughtful, but tonight, it seemed there was something more tender, more deliberate in his planning. It was hard to keep up the pretense of casual banter when it felt like there might be layers to his actions, yet unexplored.

"Alright, Hotch," you conceded, shaking your head with a light laugh, both at his foresight and your own unexpected excitement. "Dinner it is. Lead the way." You reached for your jacket, closing your laptop shut. 

As he turned towards the elevator, you followed, a curious flutter in your stomach. Maybe, just maybe, this Valentine’s Day wouldn’t be like the others after all. And perhaps this dinner could turn the page to a new chapter for both of you--one that neither of you had dared to read out loud yet.

[flippinpancakes64]

How would the cullens (separately) react to a really flirtatious reader. Like where reader makes flirtatious jokes and comments about them all the time and how they would react to the reader doing that in front of other people?

The Cullens with a flirty! Reader

Am I back in my Twilight phase? Who knows. Only time will tell.

Happy Valentines Day everyone!

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He can hear them before you speak

And if he could blush, he would

He’s one of the more traditional people, probably the most stuck in his ways out of all of them

All that to say he goes crazy over an ankle showing

Any comments you make about him have him (mentally) blushing and telling you to stop

Now don’t get me wrong, he can dish it out too

But only in private

The moment he hears you formulating a flirty thought in your brain, his hand is covering your mouth

You rarely ever get the jump on him

He might let you speak your mind in private

But you can already forget about saying anything with others around

Alice:

She would beat you to it every single time

She’s the flirty type

Y’all match each other’s freaks

You two have had compliment wars where you guys just go back and forth flirting

She loves it though

Every compliment, every innuendo, makes her fall deeper in love with you

And if you go out of your way to flirt with her in public, she goes feral

She loves being loved and you are more than happy to do that for her

Also you can’t embarrass her

You’re talking about how sexy she looks in that dress in front of a group of classmates?

She doesn’t care

She’ll retort back about how she can’t wait to get you back home later

When they go low I go lower type beat

Jasper:

Bro is a Casanova

Absolute sweet talker

But only in private

The moment you try to flirt with him outside of the confines of your or his rooms, he’s out of his element

Again, if vampires could blush, his face would be bright red

He always gets mildly annoyed when you say insinuating stuff in public

Not actually annoyed but more of like a

“Come on, really? Now? Here?”

The truth is that he loves the attention

Just maybe not outside of the bedroom

Rosalie:

She can def take it and dish it out

If you two are together, she is your ride or die

And she wants everyone to know

She’s not shy about flirting with you in public

And she never says no to you flirting with her

She welcomes it, actually

She loves the idea of fully being someone’s

Of her partner not being afraid to show her off and publicly admit how much they love her

Some would call it vanity

Or ego

But she calls it love

Emmett:

Oh sweet Emmett

He loves it

No ifs ands or buts

He feels like he’s on cloud nine when you flirt with him

And trust me, whatever you’ve got to say, he has much worse

I think he has a dirty mind

Definitely similar to Alice in the if you go low I go lower department

You’re out with friends and you make a flirty comment?

He’s going to go on a whole rant about how much he loves *insert specific body part of yours*

So yeah he basically has no shame

Say what you want

Just be prepared to be outdone

Esme:

I feel like she’s similar to Edward in this department

She loves the flirty compliments in private

But she gets all flustered in public

Cause wdym you’re at the store with her and now you’re talking about melons??

She’s gonna leave you behind to find your own way back

She gets embarrassed in private too

But it’s not as bad as in public

At least in private yall are left to yourselves

(Save for Edward unwillingly eavesdropping)

Definitely the type to smack you playfully

“Babe are you from tennessee? Cause I’m tryin-to-see them titti-“

*Smack* “Not another word.”

Carlisle:

He thinks it’s funny

He doesn’t really take it too seriously

You like his man boobs?

That’s nice sweetie

Very pacifistic about it

Doesn’t care if you’re in public or private

He loves you and your antics either way

The only time I could really see him caring would be if you came to visit him at work

As long as he’s wearing his coat, he needs to be professional

So that’s where he draws the line

Vampire! Bella:

I get mixed feelings about her

I can’t decide if she would love it or absolutely hate it

On the one hand, she would definitely love the silly jokes and all the attention

She has lower self esteem, and being able to know for sure that your partner finds you desirable is a great thing

On the other hand

Whenever you flirt with her in public she feels like she’s gonna die

She knows it doesn’t really matter

She’s a Cullen now

But she’ll be damned if that little anxious voice in the back of her head isn’t still there

[iheartlnfour]

always been you | lh43

pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: just friends who finally stop being in denial

warnings: use of y/n, kissing, fluffy romance, not proofread.

a/n: my first real post on tumblrrrr yayyy !! hope u like it <3

ꫂ ၴႅၴ

i don’t remember a time in my life without luke hughes.

some of my earliest memories are of him—messy-haired and wild, running through the backyard, grass stains on his knees, hand wrapped tightly around mine as we chased fireflies in the summer heat. he was always there. through every scraped knee, every school project, every hockey game where i cheered too loudly in the stands.

and somewhere along the way, he became more than just luke.

but i never let myself think about it too much.

because he was my best friend first. and you don’t fall in love with your best friend. even if maybe, just maybe, you already have.

ꫂ ၴႅၴ

“you’re late,” luke grumbled as i slid into the passenger seat of his car.

i rolled my eyes, shoving his arm playfully. “relax. you’re not gonna be late to practice.”

luke sighed dramatically, putting the car in drive. “that’s not the point. you’re always late.”

i grinned. “yeah? and you always wait for me anyway.”

he didn’t respond.

instead, he just drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road. he had that look again—the one where he wanted to say something but wouldn’t.

i knew luke like the back of my hand, but sometimes, he was impossible to read.

and right now? he was a locked book.

“spit it out,” i finally said.

luke blinked. “what?”

“you’re thinking about something.”

“i’m always thinking about something.”

i shot him a look. “luke.”

he let out a breath, shaking his head. “it’s nothing.”

i didn’t believe him, but i let it go.

for now.

ꫂ ၴႅၴ

jack and quinn have always been like my older brothers. they were just as much a part of my life as luke was—teasing me, protecting me, making fun of me every chance they got.

so, when jack pulled me aside after dinner one night, his expression unusually serious, i knew something was up.

“what’s going on?” i asked.

jack hesitated. “you and luke.” i frowned. “what about us?”

jack gave me a look. “come on, y/n.”

i crossed my arms, shifting uncomfortably. “there is no me and luke.”

jack scoffed. “yeah, okay. tell that to him.”

my stomach twisted. “jack…”

“you really don’t see it, do you?” jack asked, shaking his head. “he’s been in love with you since we were kids.”

my breath caught in my throat. that wasn’t true. it couldn’t be.

luke was my best friend.

if he felt that way… i would know. right?

but then, flashes of him filled my mind. the way his hand always found mine in a crowded room. the way he looked at me when he thought i wasn’t paying attention. the way he held on just a second too long whenever we hugged.

maybe jack was right. maybe i just didn’t want to see it.

ꫂ ၴႅၴ

a few nights later, i found luke sitting alone on the dock behind his house, staring at the lake.

i sat beside him, nudging his shoulder. “penny for your thoughts?”

luke huffed out a laugh, but it wasn’t his usual one. it was softer. more hesitant.

“you ever feel like… something’s right in front of you, but you’re too scared to reach for it?” he asked.

i swallowed. “yeah.”

luke turned to me then, his blue eyes searching mine. “jack talked to you.”

it wasn’t a question.

i nodded.

he let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “of course, he did.”

“luke…”

he didn’t let me finish.

instead, he reached for my hand—something he had done a million times before, but this time, it felt different. more.

“i’ve loved you for as long as i can remember,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “and i know you might not feel the same, but i can’t keep pretending i don’t.”

my heart pounded against my ribs.

because i did feel the same. i always had.

so, instead of answering, i did the only thing that made sense.

i kissed him and it felt like coming home.

[cherrycheolkat]

• random slutty thoughts, feat. mingyu •

the valentine’s day / co-worker crush one

mingyu has sat in the cubicle next to yours long enough to know exactly how shitty your ex made valentine’s day last year, plus he knows you definitely haven’t even thought about a valentine’s date since you just accepted a stack of last minute work, because to quote you, “fuck this pretend holiday”

but he really hopes to change your mind

mingyu’s had a crush on you since you started working in his group, maybe before that even when he would just see you in the break room sometimes

at first he thought you were a bit unapproachable, but the longer he sat next to you, the more he realized you were a really good co-worker and friend - you always have great ideas for projects and you don’t make him feel like shit for not knowing every single thing like most people in the group, plus you’re always happy to grab coffee when he wants to complain about how something personal

he was glad when you had offered to exchange phone numbers so he could message you “just whenever” - it took him a week to finally decide what to send - a photo proving that he really uses the name ‘james’ as his ‘coffee order name’ because he was tired of the misspellings and you would not believe him - you had practically cackled at ‘james’

he was surprised when you asked if he had a date that night, “no, i haven’t really been talking to anyone” besides you, he thought

“at least you won’t be stuck here all night, though,” you smiled, leaning towards your computer to read something

he nodded, “yeah, true,” even as he spoke, he started to poke around seeing if there were any assignments he needed to complete (he knew there weren’t)

“wait, actually, sorry - there’s this part i kind of need help with,” you mumbled from your slouched over position

he blushed and scooched his chair over to your side of the barrier, you had already moved so he could see your screen - he was glad that you seemed to always have problems with excel functions

he started tinkering with the spreadsheet while you read some documents next to him - before he realized it, he was ready for dinner

he leaned back, “want to take a break?” it was a totally normal question

you nodded, “yes, please, I’m so tired of looking at this,” you whispered and then stood up to look around the office, “wow, it’s like a horror movie in here - absolutely everyone is gone but us”

he smiled knowing you mean zombie movies, which you proclaim to hate but still seem to know a lot about

“so what were you thinking?” you asked as you sit back down next to him - he notices when your knee bumps his leg

“hm, how bad do you think the waits are across the street?”

“oh fuck, i forgot, couples out in droves, right?”

he nods, watching you scrunch your face as you start checking for reservations close by - it takes a few minutes but you’re suddenly grabbing his sleeve, “oh my god, if we leave right now, we can just make it to a decent place,” you practically drag him along

the ‘decent’ place is actually really nice, way more than he was expecting, but he was glad for once that he was in dress clothes - he actually looked like he was your date

they seated you in one of the open booths, another couple were right next to you - he had started to look at the menu when you nudged him with your foot, he glanced up to see you covertly glance at the other couple - mingyu almost laughed when he saw the girl’s foot was practically buried in the guy’s crotch and moving at a concerning pace

he blushed slightly at the scene and glanced back to you, seeing the dangerous smirk on your face, he suddenly felt the toe of your shoe press gently to his calf - he was quick to slip a warning hand onto your thigh, squeezing gently

“i think we can do better darling,” he whispered

you looked too game, “oh, can we, sweetheart?”

he wasn’t sure what to make of your sugary voice, but he knew you were horribly competitive (both of you, if he were honest, could be a bit scary at company retreats)

he didn’t hesitate to nod, “of course we can,” he answered in a low tone, his thumb tracing circles against your thigh

when the waiter came back, you both ordered drinks, but he noticed quickly when the other couple conspicuously got up at the same time and wandered towards the bathroom

he sipped his wine, “did they really just go to the bathroom?”

you giggle, “they definitely did”

he swirled his glass gently, “okay, so if we go into the men’s room after them, do we just need to be louder?” he was genuinely asking

you laughed behind your hand, “seriously?” you grinned, “it’s not like we get a peleton this time,” you shoot back, voice soft in a way that makes his stomach flutter

“yeah, but,” he wasn’t sure where he was going with this, “they were annoying, why not be, you know,” he shrugged

“be more annoying, my darling, dearest,” you smiled and covered his hand with yours

he flushed but had a sudden thought, “look if we freak them out, i will literally pay for a full weekend at that glamping place you keep ogling,” he was very serious

“oh, okay, no wait, it has to be the one with the hot tub that overlooks the trees,” you were getting serious

he nodded, “i’ll give you my card, book whatever you want,” he was too sincere

he noticed the slight blush blooming across your cheeks, “you know it’s like a couples thing, right?”

“so, you can book for two and go alone, whatever,” in his mind this was completely reasonable to offer a co-worker who he clearly had just a crush on, especially when he hadn’t confessed

he watched you bite your lip lightly, “okay, but shouldn’t we both go? it’s like a group activity,” he flushed, knowing you’re looking at him much too clearly

“just come on or we’ll miss our chance,” he stood, glancing around and walking towards the bathroom

he pushed the door open and was immediately assaulted with sounds, really wet sounds

he caught you as you walked through the door, knowing you would laugh at the sounds, he pressed his hand across your lips and guided you to the stall next to the occupied one, locking the door

you glance at the stall wall, rolling your eyes at the sudden feminine cry of “oh, baby - yeah, just like that”

you lean close to him, “make it good, okay,” you whisper, your hands suddenly ghosting down his chest and stomach

he’s shocked when you ran your hands down the front of his trousers, “fuck, daddy, show me how hard you are,” you say in a breathy voice as your hands press roughly to his hips

he bit his lip hard to avoid laughing in total shock, “that what you want baby girl, my hard cock filling that tight pussy?” he asked, his voice lower than he expected, even though he was leaning down close, whispering against your throat, obviously in character

“mhmm, yes, i want you so badly - i’ve thought about it all day, daddy - i’ve just been sitting, waiting for you, all wet and ready for your cock”

he paused hearing this, his mouth immediately dry, he could feel your hand working him through his pants

he kissed your throat gently, “daddy’s good little girl, just waiting at her desk, hoping to get fucked,” he nipped your earlobe gently, “my naughty little girl,” he whispered as he bit your throat

he was momentarily stunned when you pulled your shirt down enough to expose your tits and your perfect nipples, but he didn’t even think before he dipped down, latching onto one and then the other, hearing your moans, as he licked and sucked “yes, daddy” - “yeah, just like that” - “fuck, i bet you could empty me”

he leaned up, catching your mouth in a soft kiss, he licked into you, tasting you as he pushed up your skirt, his cock was way too hard at the idea of your full tits

he slid his fingers under the hem of your panties, immediately feeling the slick waiting for him, “oh, baby, so wet for me,” he barely broke the kiss to murmur

he watched your face as he plunged his first two fingers inside your hot, wet pussy - you gasped softly, pulling his hair roughly as you did, “yes, daddy, play with me, you’ve kept me waiting so long,” you whimper as he crooked his fingers to hit the soft spongy spot he knew your ex had never been able to find

he had completely forgotten the other couple - all he cared about was the way you were writhing in pleasure in front of him - that and the way your cunt was clenching around him, it was so fucking tight and already dripping

he pressed close, “come for me baby girl, i can feel you holding back, just let go, make a mess for daddy to clean up,” he whispered

you pressed close, “give me one more finger first,” you breathed heavily against his skin

he was happy to slip his third finger in, stretching you and then scissoring you open too, pressing against your tight walls

you moaned loudly, “oh, fuck, yes - daddy, don’t stop, make me feel good”

he wasn’t worried about how loud you were - it was part of the point, but when your pussy suddenly gushed, “fuck,” he breathed, feeling your juices wet his thigh

he held you close as he he still worked his fingers inside your pussy, you yelped as a second orgasm tore through you, a new splash of hot pussy juices running down his thigh as you shivered with pleasure in his arms, grasping blindly for him, needing him to hold you as your orgasm worked through you

“mhmm, daddy, oh, fuck, did i do good?”

he was quick, “yeah, baby, you’re so perfect, so messy and wet for me,” he pressed soft kisses to your cheek, nuzzling close to you

it was obvious that you were more fucked out than either of you expected - he definitely didn’t hear anything from the couple in the other stall, but he wasn’t especially concerned either

he suddenly turned you around, pulling your back to his chest, as he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants, “still want daddy’s cock, baby girl?”

you nod, “yes, please, use me like a toy, make me yours”

he breathed slowly, lining his cock up with your cunt, he needed to control himself or he would come too fast

he plunged in, pausing to breathe, to feel your slick cunt stretching so wide to take all of him - he listened to your whimpers and soft pleas as you adjusted to being full

but he waited to move - and when he did, he was slow at first, feeling every bit of you squeezing him, wanting him

and when you leaned back, “fuck me daddy, fuck me like you want”

the way you gazed up at him told him everything - that you knew - you already knew exactly how he felt

and so he plunged in, setting a quick pace, not being afraid to snap his hips - he wanted to fuck you raw

and when he felt you clenching and fluttering around him, he pulled you close, holding you tight, and reaching down to work your clit, he gasped at the feeling of your third orgasm, the feeling of your slick against the head of his cock was too much

he came, he clenched his teeth together tightly, moaning low against your skin, his cum filling you, he kept moving, slowly fucking his cum deeper into you

“keep it inside baby,” he demanded, breathless, finally letting you go

you nod with a little smile, “what do i get if i do?”

he laughed softly, shaking his head, and fixed his pants

he helped you fix your clothes, glancing to see how massive your pupils were

he stopped and nuzzled close, feeling nothing but tenderness for you, “want to leave?”

you nodded, holding tight to his lapels, “can we still fuck though?”

he smiled, “mmmh, of course we can baby - we can fuck all you want,” he kissed you softly - he meant every word

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨

a/n: happy v day - if you’re not getting fucked tonight, just think of mingyu ^^ we all know he would do it right …every time

♡ kat

tags: @syluslittlecrows

if you want to be tagged, go [here] my [master list] if you want to read more

[digitaldaydreamm]

unspoken claim

rafe x childhood friend!reader

| summary | best friends help each other out, right?

warnings: oral (fem receiving), coaxing, rafe persuades reader

a/n: guess what i wrote 😈, this is my first time writing smth spicy so pls don't judge me... feedback is appreciated and as always, requests are open!

masterlist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

Your room was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning and your own uneven breaths. The dim glow of your bedside lamp barely reached the corners of the space, wrapping everything in a soft, hazy warmth. You were lost in your own little world, your body warm and tingling, your mind drifting somewhere light and airy, where nothing existed except the slow, aching pull in your stomach.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen.

It was just one of those nights. One of those nights where you were too restless to sleep, where your body felt too sensitive, your skin buzzing from the warmth of your sheets and the weight of your own touch. It wasn’t something you really thought about—it was just a way to wind down, to relax.

And you had no idea you weren’t alone.

The door creaked open.

You didn’t hear it at first, too lost in the moment, but the shift in the air made your stomach drop. The second you opened your eyes and saw the tall, broad figure standing in your doorway, your entire body locked up.

Rafe.

You scrambled up so fast it made you dizzy, yanking your covers up to your chest as if that would somehow erase what he’d just seen. Your pulse was a panicked rhythm in your ears, and your breath caught in your throat.

“Rafe—” Your voice was barely above a whisper, eyes wide, heart racing.

He just stood there. Watching.

His expression was unreadable—brows slightly furrowed, lips parted just enough to make you think he might say something. But he didn’t. Not at first. He just exhaled, slow and measured, before stepping inside and pushing the door shut behind him.

You swallowed hard. “Why—why are you here?”

Rafe’s eyes flicked down to your phone on the nightstand, the screen still dark. “You weren’t answering,” he murmured, voice rougher than usual. “Thought something happened.”

Your stomach twisted. You hadn’t even realized your phone was on silent. And if it had been anyone else, you probably would’ve told them to get out. But it was Rafe. Your Rafe. The person who had always been there, always looked out for you, always knew what you needed before you even had to ask.

You should have been embarrassed.

Maybe you were.

But not enough to look away when he stepped closer, his presence making the air feel thick, heavy.

Rafe tilted his head, studying you like he was putting together a puzzle. “Didn’t know you did that, kid,” he murmured, and the teasing lilt in his voice made your cheeks burn.

You sucked in a breath, barely able to hold his gaze. “I—I don’t—”

“No?”

He sat down on the edge of your bed, his weight sinking into the mattress, his knee brushing against your leg. He was too close, too warm, too Rafe, and it made you want to shrink into yourself and melt into him all at once.

“You don’t need to be shy,” he said, voice quieter now. Gentler. Like he was just trying to make you feel comfortable. “S’just me, baby.”

And that was the problem.

Because it was just Rafe. And you trusted him more than anyone.

You trusted him so much you didn’t flinch when he reached out, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear the way he always did. You didn’t question it when his fingers drifted, brushing down your jaw, tracing the curve of your throat.

You barely even breathed when he smirked, eyes dark and knowing, and said—

“Let me help you, yeah?”

You furrowed your brows, confusion flickering across your face.

"Wh-what?" you breathed out, your cheeks burning a deep crimson.

"Best friends help each other out, right?" Rafe murmured, his fingers trailing back up toward your face, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him.

"I don't know, Rafey..." You hesitated, shivering when his other hand slid higher up your thigh.

"It's okay, sweetheart. It's just me." His voice was calm, coaxing, like this was something as simple as him fixing your necklace or tucking you under his arm like he always did.

Only this was different.

His hand crept higher, fingers catching the edge of the blanket you had frantically pulled over yourself in your panic. With slow, deliberate ease, he peeled it away.

"This okay?" His gaze was heavy, dark, unreadable- as it raked over your half-dressed form, lingering, taking you in like you were something to be memorized.

You swallowed hard, nodding, too embarrassed to speak.

He tutted, squeezing your thigh lightly.

"Words, baby."

"Yes..." you whispered, barely audible.

That was all he needed.

The blanket was discarded, the soft thud as it hit the floor sounding far louder in the stillness of your room.

Rafe's hands roamed over the plush skin of your thighs, slowly pushing your —his— shirt higher up, exposing more of you to his hungry gaze. He paused, letting his fingers graze over you in a way that sent a shiver up your spine before lowering himself between your legs.

The first press of his lips against your stomach was featherlight, almost reverent.

Then another. And another. He kissed his way down, hands roaming-caressing your hips, your sides, your thighs-like he couldn't get enough, like he needed to touch every part of you.

Your soft whimpers broke the silence, and God, the sound made something primal curl inside him.

Before you could process it, his warm tongue flattened against your bundle of nerves, dragging over it in a way that made your back arch off the mattress.

A gasp tore from your throat, your head snapping up to look at him-only to find those piercing blue eyes already watching you. There was something almost mocking in his expression, something amused, like he was waiting for this exact reaction.

Embarrassment crashed over you, and your hands flew to his head, trying to push him back.

"Rafe-"

He grunted against you, the sound vibrating straight through your core. His grip tightened as he pushed your hands away, intertwining your fingers with his instead, holding them in place against the sheets.

The sensation was unlike anything you'd ever felt. Overwhelming. Dizzying. Rafe was good-so good that the thought of where he had learned this sent an unfamiliar pang through your chest. But you couldn't focus on that now. Not when he was everywhere. Not when he was unraveling you piece by piece.

His pace quickened, his free hand slipping lower to add to your pleasure, to push you closer to the edge.

And then it hit you.

That telltale pressure building, the warmth coiling tight in your stomach.

"I-I'm..." The words barely left you before you shattered, pleasure crashing over you in waves so intense you swore you saw stars.

Rafe groaned as you came undone, his mouth never leaving you, his tongue still lapping up every aftershock. He held your hips down as you writhed beneath him, your moans of his name filling the room like a melody he never wanted to stop hearing.

He had never heard you say his name like that before.

So desperate. So wrecked. So perfect.

As your body trembled from the aftershocks, Rafe pressed soft, almost soothing kisses to your inner thighs, though he couldn't resist leaving a few sharp bites here and there-little marks, little reminders of him.

And as you caught your breath, still dazed, still trying to make sense of what had just happened, Rafe smirked against your skin.

Because you had no idea what you'd just started.

No idea that this was only the beginning.

[sevenmerrymagpies]

Potato Chip

Happy Valentine's Day to the couple walking back to their place tonight carrying bags of potato chips. You inspired me.

Steve gets Eddie the wrong Valentine's Day gift.

Smoking weed and blow jobs under the cut.

Potato Chip

It probably wasn't the best time to ask, but Steve was baked, and no one here would care. It wasn't like they all didn't know already, anyway. Steve was already pressed against Eddie, from his little toe all the way up his leg and hip, tangling their arms together and bumping shoulders as they wrestled for space on the couch together. 

Eddie toked and held the blunt for Steve, who obliged by taking his own toke, before he leaned over Steve - grabbing a grope with his hidden hand - as he passed the blunt to Argyle. As Eddie withdrew, Steve whispered, "What do you wanna do for Valentine's Day."

It was a bad time to ask, and like a month out, but Steve hadn't celebrated a Valentine's Day with a dude before, and he was kind of excited about it. Plus, this was his first Valentine's Day since 1984, which didn't make him feel kind of pathetic. He always had a date, but fuck if a second date with a girl who could barely stand him but wanted to see if the rumors about his big dick were true was only one step up from being single. And only because he got laid.

So, it didn't matter if it was a bad time to ask. What mattered was that it was on his mind, and he was too stoned to think it through. 

Eddie, though, Eddie was maybe just too stoned. "Potato chip."

"What?" Steve asked. If Eddie wanted potato chips, he could do that, but he wasn't sure exactly what that meant? 

"What?" Eddie asked as if he finally realized Steve was talking to him.

"What?" Jon asked from where he was lying on the floor. 

"Who?" Argyle laughed. "I've heard this sketch before."

Nancy giggled from where she was lying down between Argyle, who was half-draped on the couch, and Jon on the floor. "Who."

"Like an owl," Argyle agreed before he started hooting like an owl. 

"Doctor?" Robin asked at the same time.

"Oh, Will watches that on PBS," Jon said. 

Argyle continued to hoot.

"I think this conversation is going over my head," Steve admitted.

"I'm hungry," Eddie said. "I'm raiding the kitchen."

"Bring back chips," Robin called out over Argyle, Jon, and Nancy, hooting at each other.

"Yeah, duh." 

+++

Steve only realized as he was walking with Eddie into his house that perhaps, just maybe, he should have asked again. Or thought about it more? 

"I brought the good stuff," Eddie said as he kicked off his shoes before he wandered into the house towards the den. 

"The good stuff?" Steve asked, not really paying attention because he was suddenly very unsure about his plans for their evening.

"California weed from Argyle?" Eddie asked, turning around.

"Is that a question?"

"It is now, I thought the plan was to get high, make out, and crash here? I already let Wayne know I'm staying the night? I thought the plan was I'm bringing the weed, and you were supplying the lube?"

"Did we talk about this?" Steve asked worried that he was starting to forget whole conversations. Maybe Robin was right, and those concussions really were going to have a lasting impact on his brain.

"Uh, of course-"Eddie trailed off as his eyes widened. "Uh, I thought that- But now I'm thinking about it, I'm pretty sure my thoughts stayed thoughts, and I never answered your question?"

"My question?"

"What I wanted to do for Valentine's Day. You asked, like, last month."

"You told me this?"

"I'm not so sure that I did."

"Because you told me something, but-"

"I told you something?"

"Uh, why don't you come into the kitchen and see for yourself?"

Eddie blinked a few times before he dashed off to the kitchen, Steve scrambling to keep up behind him. 

"What the?" Eddie shouted as Steve rounded the corner to the kitchen.

"Surprise!" Steve tried to bring enthusiasm to his voice, but he was seriously doubting himself right now.

"What is all this?" Eddie asked, gesturing to the kitchen island. 

Steve had decked out the island with three large bowls of chips. One plain, one sour cream and chive (Eddie's favorite), and the final was a crinkle cut. Steve had prevaricated on that choice a lot. Should he get a third flavor like BBQ? Or should it all be plain chips to compliment the dips? But not getting Eddie his favorite wasn't a good idea. So he compromised and got Eddie's favorite and two plain ones in different textures. 

God, he probably overthought something so stupid. 

He'd also made a handful of dips. Onion dip, of course. Then there was a homemade ranch he made with buttermilk - he now had so much buttermilk in his fridge that he had to figure out how to finish. There was a veggie dip that Robin really liked. It was green and almost like having a vegetable. Healthyish. Then, finally, there was millionaire dip - an old family favorite with bacon, cheddar, and chive. 

"Uh. Ta-da!" Steve said, his voice fading. "Potato chip feast!"

"Is this for us?"

"Technically, it's for you because you asked for potato chips?"

"Potato chips?" Eddie said, finally turning to Steve and stalking towards him. 

"You said, and I quote, 'potato chip'."

"Nothing about lube?" Eddie asked, getting up in Steve's space and pushing him back into the hallway wall. 

"Uh, nope. I mean, I have some upstairs, but I didn't get anything special."

"You just got me-"

"Potato chip. Yup."

Eddie's confused expression broke like dawn as he loomed over Steve, slumped against the wall, looking up at his boyfriend. "You made me a potato chip feast because I was so high that I told you 'potato chip' and didn't tell you what I actually wanted?"

Steve sighed. "I know I should have-"

"Shhh, shhh, shhh," Eddie said as he held up his finger against Steve's lips. "This is amazing, and I'm getting the feeling that you don't realize how amazing it is."

"But this isn't even-"

"No, this is better. We can get shit-faced and feast. No, wait. We can fuck and then get shit-faced and feast." Eddie said as he lowered himself to his knees.

"Uh," Steve said, still not having caught up with Eddie.  It didn't matter, though, because Eddie pulled out Steve's half-hard dick and swallowed it down. "Oh, shit."

Eddie hummed as he worked his mouth up and down Steve's rapidly hardening shaft. 

"I guess," Steve breathed out and worked to keep his hips still. "You like your gift."

Eddie's response was to pull Steve's balls out and fondle them, which always made Steve's knees melt. 

"Fuck, Eddie."

Eddie didn't respond; he just kept sucking Steve's brain out of his dick until he couldn't think straight. He didn't last long, couldn't like this. Steve came with a grunt, and Eddie swallowed every last drop.

Steve was still stupid from how quickly Eddie had worked him over. Eddie tucked Steve back in his pants before he stood up and kissed Steve. A hint of the bleachy taste of his spunk was on Eddie's lips. Shit, did that get him going. 

"Let's take this upstairs, huh?" Eddie said. "You got that lube, right?"

"Yeah," Steve breathed out, letting Eddie drag him upstairs. "Yeah, I have lube."

"And the dips will keep?"

Steve blinked. "Uh, for a bit. Sure."

"Cool. I don't think I'm gonna last long tonight, anyway. We can do something more elaborate tomorrow. Now let's go celebrate Valentine's Day."

[rhiannonsknife]

I've got my theatre show this week! (I'm playing Paulette in Legally Blonde if curious 👀) soooo... Jackie Taylor with actress!reader? Could so use a girl to bring me a rose or something 👀 (also help with pre-show nerves??)

-🔆

(my first show is on Tuesday and I am FALLING TF APART with nerves please help me)

i mean if jackie taylor isn’t available i’m also down……(if you catch me subtly hitting on my anons, mind your own goddamn business. it’s yellowjackets day, this is a special occasion.)

you can hear the audience from where you’re sitting in front of a mirror: a constant murmur of voices in the background of people finding their seats, flipping through their programs, waiting for the lights to dim.

it shouldn’t make you this nervous. you’ve done this before, after all. you know your lines, your blocking, every single beat of your performance. still, as you sit just offstage, fingers curling and uncurling at your sides, the nerves creep in.

before you can spiral, a voice snaps you out of your thoughts: “wowza, look at you, showstopper!”

with your eyes wide, you snap your head around.“jackie? what are you doing back here?”

“relax” she grins. “i snuck in!”

“you snuck in?” you glance over to the stage manager’s table. somehow, miraculously, no one has spotted her yet. “jackie, you shouldn’t be here!”

she steps closer. “don’t worry about me.” her eyes flicker over your costume, clearly noticing the way your hands are still trembling at your sides. “nervous?”

you hesitate, then nod on the exhale. “a little”

jackie tilts her head. “but you’re, like, annoyingly good at this”

“doesn’t mean i don’t get nervous.”

her gaze softens at this. “hey,” she murmurs, squeezing your fingers. “you’re gonna be amazing!” her hands are warm, so grounding in your own.

“you’re biased,” you say with a weak, breathless laugh.

jackie shrugs. “maybe!” before you can protest, she pulls something from behind her back: a single rose, slightly crumpled from where she’s been hiding it. “jackie!”

“it’s for you,”

you glance down at the rose, suddenly overwhelmed with so much affection that it makes you forget all about your nerves. jackie isn’t always the best with words, but sneaking backstage just to see you, just to bring you a rose is so very her. she leans in, cupping your cheek as she presses a quick kiss to your lips. she’s not trying to get you in trouble for making our backstage, after all.

jackie pulls back just as the stage manager’s voice echoes through the room, announcing that you’ve got three more minutes.

“i’ll be right there the whole time,” she promises. “front row. you’ve got this!”

you take another deep breath. “yeah. i do”

“go break a leg, superstar!” jackie grins, and then, just as quickly as she appeared, she’s gone again, leaving you with the flower in your hand.

[y2karasu]

Rant to me, I like the sound // I like your voice, I like your mouth

- Karasu Tabito x Fem!Reader • Word count: 1.1k -

content warnings: voice kink, guided masturbation (kinda), phone sex, established relationship

Karasu sighs as he walks into his hotel room. He smiles slightly at the intricate folding of the blanket left by the cleaning staff. He takes his phone out, snapping a picture before sending it to you. Away games were hard for him; for someone who was once so put off by relationships he had come to find himself rather insatiable when it came to you.

The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh at one of his shitty jokes, how you always know he’s had a bad day when he’s just walked through the door, your pretty pretty voice and the way it cradles his name so gently when he has you pressed into the sheets of your shared bed.

His phone pings, bringing him out of his thoughts. Wide grin on his face when he sees you’ve messaged him back.

-> auuughhh so cute >o<

He smiles at the message, sitting on the edge of the mattress before responding.

<- Not as cute as you, princess.

Another one right after.

<- Miss you

He waits patiently for a response when he sees you’ve read it; frowning as the minutes tick past and you don’t say anything. He shakes off the feeling, stepping into the bathroom to shower as he waits for you. A low groan leaves him as the ache from his practice is washed down the drain, hand scrubbing at his hair before he’s pulled from the moment by his phone going off.

Karasu would be— should be embarrassed by how quickly he gets out after that, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Rinsing the soap from his skin before drying off quickly. He doesn’t even bother getting dressed, towel slung low on his waist as he picks his phone up from where it was resting on the bedside table.

-> are you back at the hotel?

<- Yeah, just got done showering. Did you wanna call?

-> perfect

-> maybe later

He frowns at this, an anxious feeling building creeping in his belly at how you brush him off. Just as he goes to type what was probably (definitely) a message a tad too desperate; his phone pings again.

-> put your earbuds in

-> attachment: one voice memo

Karasu chuckles, shaking off his earlier insecurities. He loves how well you know him; that he’d rather hear your voice telling him about your day than read your messages. He gets up from the bed, grabbing his earbuds before settling into the mattress. It’s softer than the one you share; but somehow still not as comfortable without you resting next to him. He presses play, a smile already on his face.

“Hi, baby.”

He stiffens at the tone, breath hitches as he listens to you shuffle around.

“I miss you so much, you know,” you sigh into the microphone, “it’s just not the same without you here.”

His cock stiffens at the sultry sound of your voice, mind racing.

“I want you to do what I say, okay, baby?”

His head falls back into the pillows, a low groan leaving his lips. He nods despite the fact that you can’t see him. Fist clenching as his cock twitches in anticipation.

“I bet you’re hard already, aren’t you?” You tease, “You’re so easy, baby. I love that about you. Love knowing you can get off just from my voice.”

There’s more shuffling on the other side before he hears a familiar sound; a whine followed by the slick sound of your cunt.

“Take your cock out,” you instruct.

Karasu quickly yanks his towel open, squeezing at the base of his cock.

“Spit on it, baby. Just like I would.”

A loud moan falls from his lips, precum leaking steadily out of his reddened tip before he follows your instruction. Stroking himself slowly to lubricate himself.

“Want you to tease the tip, can you do that? I know how much you like when I do that, handsome. When I put my lips around it to taste you.”

Karasu nods, large hand palming over his cock. His hips buck up into the touch; pleasure searing through his veins so harshly he’s not sure if he’ll last. He thinks about you looking up at him; the way you smile as you trace the tip of his cock with your tongue before sliding him into your mouth.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” he moans, whines slipping steadily past parted lips, “fuck— so good.”

“I miss you so much,” you whine, and— fuck, Karasu can hear the way your fingers pick up their pace. The wet sounds of you fucking yourself open while you whimper.

“Miss everything about you,” your voice is breathy now; an air of desperation slipping off your tongue, “miss feeling your fingers inside me. The way they— oh! The way they fuck me open.”

All restraint is lost on Karasu at this, fist fucking quickly onto his cock as he hears the way you’re falling apart for him. Lust boiling in his belly over the fact that he has you like this; even miles apart.

“Miss your tongue,” you must’ve adjusted the phone closer to your cunt; because the wet sounds of your fingers take over the speakers.

He pictures you on the bed you share, head thrown back as you desperately rut into your too small fingers. Karasu thinks about coming home to you; your legs over his shoulders while he licks the mess between your thighs. The way your hands grip his hair when his nose presses against your clit while he fucks you with his tongue.

“But, Tabito.”

Fuck; you’re not playing fair. The sound of his name falling from your lips has him calling your own out loudly; hips bucking up to meet the thrusts of his hand as he imagines you on top of him. The way your tits bounce in his face. How whiny you get when he takes your nipple into his mouth. The coy look you give him when your legs are too tired, how your pretty eyes roll back when he tucks his legs up to pound up into you.

“Tabito!” You cry out, “Miss your cock the most. The way you stuff me full; when you make me take it over and over until I’m— fuck! I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m—

Karasu falls apart with you; moaning unabashedly as rope after rope of cum falls onto his heaving abdomen. He whines your name; picturing your smile; your laugh; your—

“Tabito,” you sigh; satiated, “wish I was there to lick the cum off of your stomach.”

His cock twitches where it rests on his abdomen; and he huffs out a laugh at the pout in your voice.

“I love you,” you sigh, “come home soon.”

“I love you too,” he whispers into the silence of the room.

He picks his phone up from where he’d tossed it to the side earlier, gripping his cock once more before taking a picture. Laughing to himself when your contact photo comes up as you call.

“Hi, princess.”

[effetsecndaires]

— 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥!

➺ PAIRING | gyutaro shabana x fem!reader.

➺ CONTENT WARNING | a little suggestive towards the end. 0,9k words not proofread

➺ NOTE | happy valentine's day to those who don't celebrate 🧚🏻‍♀️ I wanted this to be a janitor bot at first but I didn't want to 'waste' the idea on a bot :') I'm gonna be honest with y'all, the last few months have been pretty rough. I hate everything I write, and it's only getting worse with time. Im not sure if i'll ever get out of that state of mind at this point but oh well, haha. it is what it is I guesssss

Gyutaro had never cared about Valentine's Day before he met you.

Now, he’s pretty sure it’s his favorite day of the year. Not because he likes the holiday itself—no, he still thinks it’s ridiculous how people cling to shallow gestures and empty words, acting as if love only matters once a year when it’s wrapped in ribbons and chocolate. But you? You made it different. You made it meaningful.

This year, you had insisted on celebrating, saying something about making up for all the years he never got to experience it. Gyutaro had scoffed at the idea, grumbling about how pointless it was. But deep down, a part of him—one he barely admitted to himself—had been looking forward to it for weeks. (Not that he’d ever say it out loud.)

So now here he is, lying on your futon, watching as you carefully set up a tray with all the things you’ve prepared for him. Handmade chocolates, a cup of warm tea, and a tiny wrapped gift.

“You’re spoiling me too much, y'know,” he murmurs, scratching absently at his arm. His nails dig a little too hard into his skin but he barely notices. A small, barely noticeable smirk creeps onto his lips as he tilts his head at you. “Aren’t you worried I’ll start expecting this every year?”

“Maybe that’s my plan,” you tease back, kneeling beside him. Before he can respond, you lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips, the tender gesture making him freeze.

God. Why'd you have to be so goddamn perfect? He hates it. Hates how easily you manage to drive him crazy with the simplest touch. How badly he wants more. How he's already fighting his own body so that he doesn't pounce on you and take your right here and there on this futon before you even have the chance to go through with the date. He’s pathetic, isn’t he? The thought makes him dig his nails a little deeper into his palm — but before it can get to the point of drawing blood, your hand is on his wrist, gentle as always, guiding his fingers away from his skin.

“Hey. None of that, baby.” you interrupt his train of thoughts, bringing his knuckles to your lips. “No self-loathing allowed on Valentine's day, 'kay?"

Gyutaro immediately looks away and huffs, heat quickly creeping up his neck. Fuck. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you so fucking much his throat tightens with the need to scream it on top of the roofs. He's not sure why the universe suddenly decided to bless him with a love like yours, but, hell. He isn't about to take it for granted.

With a slightly trembling hand, he plucks one of the chocolates from the tray in front of him and pops it into his mouth, desperately needing to shift the focus off himself.

“You made those yourself? Eh, they're not bad, I guess..." he teases, letting out a quiet hum of approval.

“Not bad?” you gasp. “I spent all evening making these, and all you’ve got for me is ‘not bad’?”

Gyutaro grins, watching the way your lips purse in mock indignation. The way you tease him so effortlessly, like he’s just a guy and not the ugly loser he knows himself to be — it makes something warm stir inside him, his dick hardening and twitching traitorously in his pants. But he ignores it, not wanting to out himself as a complete creep to the girl he loves. Instead, he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly delicate. His fingers brush against your cheek, feeling the heat of your skin beneath them.

“Yeah, alright, fine..." he rolls his eyes playfully. “They’re perfect. Just like you.”

Your eyes widen for a moment, your lips parting and closing again in shock. Then you let out a laugh, tilting your head to press a kiss to the heel of his palm. “Mhm, that’s better.”

“Hey, don’t get all cocky with me now,” His smirk widens, fingers intertwining with yours. “It’s not every day I hand out compliments, y’know. Don't get used to it.”

You squeeze his hand, your fingers tracing idle patterns against his skin. “Well, I guess that just makes them even more special, then.”

Gyutaro doesn’t argue. The truth is, he'll probably shower you with compliments every day after that. He knows it, and he knows you do too.

His heart beats an unsteady rhythm against his ribs, but he finds he doesn’t mind. He likes this. Likes you.

When you shift closer and tug him into your arms, Gyutaro doesn't resist. He lets you guide his head to rest against your chest and exhales a long breath, his entire body relaxing when your fingers start threading through his messy, tangled hair.

A long silence settles between you then, but it isn’t uncomfortable. He tightens his grip on you, letting his fingers curl into the fabric of your clothes as if that will somehow ground him.

Gyutaro closes his eyes, letting himself enjoy the slow, steady rise and fall of your chest as you kiss the crown of his head. For once, he doesn’t feel like a monster. He doesn’t feel like something broken. He's just... a man, held in the arms of someone who loves him. And for the first time in a long, long time, he thinks that maybe—just maybe—happiness isn’t entirely out of his reach.

[s0lar-ch3ri]

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY TO @justyouraverageleafykinnie AND @dogboyratgirl TAKE THE SILLIES

tw theyre fluffy and sweet in this so yeah (also long. also will maybe post to ao3 someday idrk)

title is "together we can figure it out!" a bears in trees lyric

this fic features lint from wonderlust as well as wonderlust ocs of my friends :3 (I AM NOT CAUGHT UP WITH WONDERLUST DO NOT EXPECT TO GET FUTURE EP REFS I DONT MIND SPOILERS IM JUST SAYING)

description: It's Aluntine's day (or their world's Valentine's day), and for strange, almost 100% homosexual reasons, Lint can't do anything but find his way back to Apple.

Lint had faced many Aluntines days inside the bakery with his mom, just making cookies. Couples came in, grabbed sweet little treats for their sweet little treats (that isn't incredible wording, maybe he hangs out by Troy too much), and left. It wasn't a lonely time, not when it made business. As he looks across the tables before opening, things feel different.

"You alright Bumblebee?"

Lint half-buzzes back a response. It's not even opening time, he needs to keep it together. Come on!

"Repeat that?"

He buzzes a bit more, less responding to the question and more mumbling to himself. Nothing else is different, nothing's too special about today, well maybe minus...

He leaves the bakery, off to find his sweet little treat.

Apple is not expecting much today. Yes, this time around, Apple could have gone with Lint somewhere nice, however he knew Lint was busy today at the bakery, so maybe he would bug him after. In the meantime, Apple was working on writing something. The plan was simple: finish this, check on the orchard, maybe visit the bakery and see that bee, all that good stuff.

Just like how he changed his life, Lint had changed his plans. With a jumpscare that made Apple fall out his chair, a special bee came buzzing in. All of Apple's panic faded into something softer seeing the culprit of the noise. He sighs a bit.

"Hello, sugarfly."

"I...I feel strange." Lint stands a bit awkwardly in the doorway. Apple repositions himself so they sit up better.

"Go on."

"I thought today was gonna be a normal day, but it just...doesn't. And I didn't know where to go so..."

"Of course." Apple starts cleaning up his writing supplies. He can finish it later.

"Do you uh- how do you ask this sort of thing..."

Apple bleats curiously.

"Do you want to be my Alumni? I just...I don't know. We can uh, hang out, like always, but, special? Not really? Help me out here..."

Apple giggles. "Of course darling."

He buzzes excitedly and Apple can't help but grin at him. I mean, when it's a nice day outside, pretty and basically shining, who could help themself?

"What were you thinking of?"

Lint sinks a bit into himself. Oh cog, he didn't think of something big. Or, uh, anything. What did Mars say? Deep breaths? He takes a couple, in for 7, hold for 6, release for 5. Surely Apple wouldn't mind. He hates liars anyways.

"I uh...I don't know. I just knew I had to come to you."

"That's okay! We can figure it out together!"

Cog that goat was pretty. No, Lint, focus! You have to give them the best date he's ever seen! Just how…

“Maybe a nice restaurant?”

“They may be all reserved out babydoll…”

“Oh…Does my place sound nice?”

“Always does.”

Did it feel silly to take Apple from their house to bee’s? Yes, but to be fair, there were specific things Lint needed there to make sure this was perfect. Apple deserved nothing less.

Walking in, she hears some commotion from the kitchen, mostly just grumbling and the sounds of the assembly of a gift. Looking past his neutral green walls into the kitchen with its purple walls, he sees Troy, bright red and looking just pissed. He angrily puts a ribbon around a set of orchids colored with mint and blue orchids. Despite his pissed…everything, Troy handles the flowers with much care.

“Something wrong Champion?”

“JAX.”

 “Is he-”

“THAT STUPID PRETTY BOY BASTARD ASKED ME ON A DATE BEFORE I COULD AND I NEED TO BEAT HIM WITH MY SLED. ALSO MAYBE KISS HIM.”

“You go do that love.”

Troy stomps by him, grabbing his face gently and kisses his cheek. Lint giggles, which sounds a bit like a buzz. He buzzes a lot. That wasn’t a bad thing, he hopes. Maybe he should just set up the movie.

“We uh, we’ve gotten a lot of movies. There’s Ratatoing- that’s not a good one, there’s Cloverfield, Jax may have left around his strange ‘Ratnarok’ documentaries or something- what interests you?”

“Uhhhh, all of them?”

“Love Rattually it is.”

As Apple helps with selecting the movie, he sets up the couch with its assortment of pillows and blankets. One is plain and fuzzy, a muted green, another a felt one with sunflowers on it. Lint grabs some pretzels and popcorn in the kitchen, he also prepares 2 cups of coffee, one for himself, and one for his heaven send.

Apple is still by the couch, sitting, waiting for Lint. He holds the letter he had planned to give Lint later that day, going over each carefully plucked and nurtured word. Lint had brought lights to his days that he would have known from no other being or aspect of living, the least he can do is give him something of perfection. Lint deserves nothing less.

He adds a couple details to it and carefully folds it so as to not crease it. He hopes it’s good enough. They finish the set up as footsteps come on by them behind the couch. Lint holds his arms around Apple from above as bee places in his hands a cup of coffee.

“Got you a cup! Made with love.” Lint is buzzing with joy, putting his head on Apple’s shoulder. Apple takes this as the chance to pepper him slightly with kisses, but like any well made dish, too much seasoning- well here it just made him giggle and light-heartedly protest.

“Let me put my cup down first angel!” He smiles and snickers and Apple feels his heart flutter around and he gains another reason to love him.

Lint climbs over into the blankets and snuggles up next to Apple as they play some movies, drinking coffee. At certain parts, Apple turns his gaze back to Lint and sometimes Lint’s looking at him. As eyes meet, the boys giggle as they give each other compliments and flirts and kisses. As their binging goes on, their energy simmers down with the time, fading into simple cuddling on the couch. Cups sit on the table, basically empty, with the TV’s hum as natural to the environment as Lint’s buzzing was to him. He adored this bee beyond words.

He carefully wriggles his letter out from his pocket, using the blue light to guide his reading ability.

‘’Dearest sweetest bee I’ve known, Lint

There are many things I want to tell you. I want to tell you how you are the light of my days and how no sun nor star could outshine you. I want to tell you how your voice is a gracious melody, with each note and buzz writing a harmonious tune I wish to hold forever. I want to tell you how I could count the stars that trail the sky and name all the shades of its majesty and not once could I think of a world where it’d be a more beautiful sight then the warmth of your smile. I want to tell you how you’ve taken my world and sculpted it to a more magical and wondrous one then I could have arrived too. I want to tell you how the ideas of love and friendship were carefully taught to me by the wondrous bee you are. I want to tell you how you’re the sweetest nectar I’ve tried and I’ve never felt once a need to find another.

There are many things I want to tell you. Maybe I can settle with a few words. I love you Lint, you are a shining star, thank you, I love you, thank you.

All the love I can give,

Apple’’

He’s still unsure if all he’s wanted to say is there, if that’s what bee would understand is true. Thoughts swarm Apple’s head, like a wasp hive, aiming for his heart. Before he gets lost in his mind, Apple hears a small faint buzz from a special someone under his head. He seemed to have fallen asleep a bit ago. The small reminder grounds Apple and his heart calms down with him. He’s got someone too close to there to be so worried. He remembers Lint’s words before, what he didn’t exactly say but was always there.

I didn't know where to go so I came to you.

Apple smiles a bit, closing his eyes and falling for the background TV ambience himself. Together they will figure it out.

[berritart]

toxic!reader x abby nsfw 18+

a/n saw a post that said we need more toxic!reader and what better way to do it is with abby mhm mhm. didnt think it would be this long but i hope u guys enjoy😇

you couldn't even count how many texts your got from abby that night. it was quite hilarious honestly. notifications kept popping up, reading along the lines of "baby what are you doing?" "saw your recent story" or "why are you with your ex?" all you posted was a selfie with your ex girlfriend at a club. yes you might still have feelings for her, and perhaps you did it for pathetic reactions from abby. and it worked.

you never made anything exclusive with abby. she was just friends with benefits. yeah you two would go out, fuck around a lot, and you maybe have a toothbrush and bra at her place, but you never agreed to being her girlfriend. you're just not ready for the commitment.

you're probably oblivious to how abby feels but she never asked you to be her girlfriend either. she never showed obvious signs either. you thought she felt the same way as you, perfectly fine with being fuck buddies. you thought that until you reached the front door of your apartment where a disheveled abby was, leaning against your door.

"abby? what are you doing here?" you question, your voice full of confusion. you were confused as fuck and that might be an understatement. abby's head shot up and faced you, her arms quickly pulling you in her embrace. "missed you...that's all." she whispered against your neck. you pulled away and looked at abby crazy. "at one o'clock in the morning abs?" you enter your front door, abby following behind you like a lost puppy.

"i saw your story and i couldn't sleep." abby admitted, tossing her jacket on the couch. "are you guys together?" you were getting distracted by her biceps and tank top clad torso. if you two wasn't in this predicament you would've been pounced on her but that doesn't matter right now sadly.

"that's none of your business. you don't have the right to pop up unannounce-"

"you always show up at my place and i don't mind. don't be a hypocrite especially right now." abby interrupted your sentence, her eyebrows furrowed from stress. you almost felt bad. and you know you would flip if she posted any other woman. maybe she was right about how she's acting. you would never admit it though.

"no i'm not abby. why do you even care anyways?" you walk closer to her, her face contorted in nothing but sadness. "are you jealous?" a smirk find it's way to your glossy lips, hands cupping her face. "you want me all to yourself huh?"

abby nodded, humming in agreement. her eyes not leaving your lips. she looked so needy, so desperate, so pathetic. and you're making her this way. talk about a ego booster. she nudged against the palm of your hands, rubbing her cheek against them. "need you..." abby whined, letting you guide her face to your lips.

her lips craved yours, almost devouring them as soon as they met. her tongue traced against the opening of your mouth, begging for permission to enter your mouth and you let her. felt like she was sucking the soul out of you, your breath weakening from the prolonged kissing. lips still connected, she picked you up, your legs wrapping around her waist.

as soon as you two entered your bedroom she threw you on your already disheveled bedspread. her hands quickly found its way to the zipper of your mini skirt. "need this pussy and i know she needs me." abby muttered under her breath, loud enough for you to hear. "she can't fuck you like i do. you only need me. say it." abby begged, her eyebrows still furrowed in need. and she's right. no one could make you cum more than 3 times a night, cater to your every need in the bedroom, only she could.

"i only need you baby just please..." you whimpered, only saying it to satisfy her. you brought her hands back to the waistband of your panties, the lacy black thong you only wore because you were seeing your ex tonight. abby wasted no time diving between your legs. she dragged her tongue against your thong, the fabric creating friction against your clit so fucking good. "fuck oh my god-" your nails scratched against abby's sensitive scalp, pulling her messy blonde hair to buck your hips even more. the moan that came out her mouth was almost guttural, only causing her her to speed up the endless torture.

you definitely had authority over abby's feelings, keeping her close with no thought in your head to start dating. but in bed, you're only reduced to a orgasming, moaning mess. abby would always come crawling back to make you feel good, even after 3 days of not messaging each other. she needed you and you sorta need her.

you felt the cold room air hit your folds, your panties getting pulled to your ankles by abby. she didn't give you a lick of time to calm down from her teasing, tongue running through your sopping cunt. she was making louder noises than you, whimpers and whines only causing vibrations to hit your clit. "taste so good angel." she moaned, her blue eyes holding you in a trance, not once breaking eye contact with you. "f-feels so good abby-" you yanked at abby's hair, causing a loud grunt from her lips.

"'m s-so close fuck abby please." you felt the heat in the pit your stomach get worse, your orgasm preparing to wash over your body. her lips latched to your clit, sucking like her life depended on it. you were so close and abby had no mercy, doing whatever it takes to make you cum all over her mouth. you thought that would be it until you felt her thick, calloused digits slip into you cunt, curling in all the right spots. "f-fuck oh my-" your back arched from the bed, grinding against her tongue and fingers. "'m c-cumming abby-" a few more seconds of sucking and fingering your orgasm rushed throughout your body, limbs shaking from the impact. abby held your hips, her tongue cleaning the rest of the juices on your folds. she pulled away to stare at the mess she caused, a grin plastered across her face.

"what else do you need me to do baby? anything you need." abby questioned, her hands exploring your torso under your tank top. "just wanna make you feel good..." your nipples we're between her thumb and pointer finger, pinching and tugging enough to elicit a loud cry from you.

"c-check my drawer." you point towards your nightstand, abby already knowing what you're hinting at. she's too good at fucking you with her strap, especially after an argument (you caused of course). she's definitely on a ten now since she has something to prove and what better way to prove you only need her by drilling you into the mattress.

abby took off her sweats, leaving her only in her tank top and boxers. your lip was between your teeth as you eyed abby as she secured the harness around her hips. not a single thought behind those eyes of yours, only lust and need.

it was a black strap with a few veins running along it's sides. a tad bit too big but it was your favorite on abby. she just knew how to use it, making sure you can feel her in your stomach. you definitely weren't going to be able to walk straight tomorrow morning.

abby positioned herself between your shaky legs, spreading them as wide as she could just so you can be on full display for her. she ran the tip through your folds, pressing it against your sensitive clit. "abby don't tease..." your begs fill the room, wanting nothing more than to have your girlfriend situationship balls deep in your cunt.

"relax baby..." abby hums. "wanna take my time with her." she slipped the tip of her strap in your cunt just to take it out once your gasp hit her ears. you couldn't take it anymore, your head fuzzy, just wanting to be stuffed. you move closer, letting the strap slip into your warm heat. your lips formed a perfect o, your eyebrows being pulled together as her strap continues to stretch your cunt slowly.

"so impatient, we need to work on that." abby shakes her head, sucking her teeth in response to you neediness. she continued slip her length inside you slowly, the stretch hurting so good. she finally bottomed out, the harness already sticky with your cum from your previous orgasm. you started rocking your pelvis area, feeling the tip of abby's strap brush against that spot but not necessarily quite. you were basically teasing yourself, only needing to feel abby fuck you. your weak movements weren't enough.

"you want me to move sweet girl?" abby smiled, her rough hands still pressing down on your legs, keeping them apart so they wont disrupt her view. you nodded repetitively, whines and borderline sobs filling the room. "p-please..."

abby pulled out slowly, only to ram back in with no warning."f-fuck oh my god-" you grabbed her forearms tightly, feeling her strap continue to pump in and out of your heat. she was so fucking deep. you think you almost felt her in your throat. "you can take it mama. i know you can." abby leaned forward, placing your nipple between her teeth, tugging softly. she began to rub her tongue against your hardening bud, still keeping the same pace she was previously terrorizing you with. "feels s'good..." you stuffed your face in the nearest pillow, muffling the noises you were making. you knew in your soul your neighbor would be putting in a noise complaint about you first thing in the morning. but having abby fuck you like she always did, after days on end of no contact, there's only so much you can do.

abby continued to pound into you relentlessly, not giving a chance to really take it in. you felt like you were going to cum any minute now, the pressure in you pelvis area growing more and more, the tip hitting your cervix with no remorse. "'m so close." you cried, looking down to see where you two met.

god it was so sloppy and messy, white painting the black silicone of abby's strap. you swore you could see how deep she was inside you, every thrust causing a bulge to appear near your pelvis. the scene was imprinted in your brain. you don't ever think you could forget how good she is fucking you.

"f-fuck me too." abby's thrusts became sloppier, the slowed friction pushing you over the edge. your whole body spasmed, hands gripping harshly on abby's biceps, leaving marks on her freckled skin. you couldn't even warn her or say you were about to come, only noises could be produced. your release coated her abs and the base of her strap, gluing you two together. your soft pants and whimpers combined with her grunts, her orgasm hitting her once you finished yours.

abby collapsed beside you, lazily taking off her strap. she immediately pulled you in to embrace you. her nose traced against your neck, hands squeezing your waist. "missed this so much..." she hummed, sleepiness washing over her.

you say there, letting the guilt wash over you. you know once she leaves tomorrow morning you ex will still be on the back burner, always there waiting when you're tired of abby. maybe when you wake up you'll have a change of heart, wanting to settle down and start building a better relationship with abby. however, you doubt that completely.

[cloversnstrawberries]

oc intro post ! ! young!serial killer grandpa & time traveler reader

masterlist | requests open !

warnings; Mentions of violence, murder, serial killings, Everett's superiority/god complex, misanthropy (hatred of the human race), manipulation, possessive behavior, mental instability, and there might be more that i forgot :( if i missed a major one, please let me know and i'll add it !!!

additional notes; i read "garden of the dead flowers" a while back (in which i totally did the daily pass thing. yeah. totally!), and i thought it had a lot of potential for a platonic yan,, i didn't like the ending much for other reasons, but i'm fixing it here. with my oc. as god intended, of course. of course, if you're familiar with the webcomic at all, this isn't really that similar; except for the very core basis ^^ this is the option that won the second poll :D

! ! introduction blurb & moodboard below the cut ! !

Everett has met a lot of people before, that's just how it is, being the son of a wealthy businessman and a socialite. He's met a lot of strange people as well, eccentric people that makes Everett need a double-take.

But none quite so strange as you, who simply... showed up in the back garden one day. You were disoriented, wearing odd clothes as you patted around your pockets for... something. A handkerchief, maybe?

Either way, you'd be an easy kill. He'd never seen you around before, perhaps a runaway then. Nobody would miss you, in that case. And If they did, then they'd have a difficult time tracing you all the way to Everett's backyard.

But something made that train of thought stop before it even fully departed. Something about you made him hesitate, and subsequently approach and offer you help. To pull you up, dazed as you were, and help you into the sitting room.

You continued to be quite out of it, and when he returned, tea in hand-- you took it without question. You hadn't said a word, not to him or otherwise. All you did was look around, face pinched like you trying to figure something out.

By the end of it, Everett isn't quite sure what made him take such a liking to you. When you opened up, you tripped over your words-- you sounded funny, regardless of that. Saying words and phrases he's never heard, but he didn't pay much mind to that.

Regardless of your little verbal stumbles, you ended up telling him that you 'don't know how you got here', which he assumed you meant the town in general, or maybe just his backyard specifically.

The first conversation he genuinely held with you, you would always give these nonsensical answers that provided no more knowledge than before. When he asked "Where are you from?" You'd respond with "Not here.", or how you got here-- you'd always pause, and try to think it over before finally settling on "...I don't know."

Amnestic, maybe? That's what he could make of it, anyways. Other than your dazed behavior, you showed no real signs of a concussion. He set you up in a guest room-- and he doesn't know what makes him do it. Even as you wake up the next morning, no longer so confused--

Usually, he wouldn't really like people like you. Those who treat him so casually, those who treat everybody like that; like they were everybody's pal. It irked Everett to no end before,

So why is it different when you do it? With your strange words, strange habits, and even stranger way of dress-- what's got him so interested in you?

What sets you apart of his usual fare--? He could go and argue that he helped you recover so he could add you to his roster of victims, because he's not one for kicking someone when their down...

But he couldn't even fool himself with that lie. Really, he doesn't know why or how you managed to worm your way into his good graces so quickly-- enough where he let you stay in his home for the time being.

He could be harboring a runaway, either from a family or maybe even if the law. That could put him in risk, if cops come looking for you-- find his home, found evidence of what he does in and around it.

Again, it's just something about you... It makes it impossible to even think of driving a knife straight through your heart. What would be easy for him with everyone else, was like fighting an uphill battle when it came to you.

Either way, he's not letting you go now. Not after week of getting to know you-- after getting you new clothes to help fit in, getting his parents to make the school take you as a student. Just so you didn't have to sit and rot in that big house all day, of course.

He won't let you outside the grounds. Maybe because he doesn't want his new friend taken, the only person that's been entirely immune to his constant need to hurt others-- either by yourself, or anyone who's looking for you.

But he doesn't tell you that. He says he just wants to make sure you're healthy and not about to keel over from an untreated brain injury and whatnot.

Everett has grown quite fond of you, even if you're a little strange.

Maybe it's because you're so strange, that you're exempt from his usually unforgiving drive to prey on others, and rip them limb from limb like they were bugs under a microscope.