#just do what feels right whether it's to laugh

[hoshifighting]

hi can i request svt’s reaction to y/n saying she hasn’t shaved down there but they go down anyways 👹👹

seventeen reaction when you're not shaved

seungcheol: "babe, the last thing on my mind right now is whether you shaved or not." he says it so casually, like you just told him the sky is blue. but inside he’s actually kinda sad you even felt the need to mention it. like, why would he care? he’s just tryna worship you, and here you are worried about some damn stubble. he’s on a mission now. a convincing one.

jeonghan: "sweetheart, do you really think that’s gonna make me stop?" thinks that the fact that you’re even bringing it up is adorable. unnecessary, but adorable. he’s about to make you forget you even had that thought in the first place.

joshua: "do you really think i give a shit?" and he says it so sweetly too, but with this little smirk like he’s personally offended that you even hesitated. inside, he’s just like, why would i, joshua hong, ever care about that? he’s about to prove to you exactly how little he cares.

junhui: "okay, and? still the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen." like, he genuinely does not understand why this is even being brought up. he’s not even thinking about it. all that’s going through his mind is that he was just trying to devour you and now you’re talking nonsense.

hoshi: "babe, i would still be down if you had a whole ass beard down there." he’s so serious. like, actually, completely unbothered. he’s just happy to be here. inside, he’s already moving on. he’s not even letting you finish that thought.

wonwoo: "that’s what you’re worried about? baby, come on." his voice is so soft but he’s looking at you, like really looking, and in his head, he’s just sighing. like, you’re here, with him, like this, and you think that even matters?

woozi: "literally don’t care. like, at all." deadpan. like you just asked if water is wet. he’s so unbothered it almost makes you feel dumb for even bringing it up. in his mind, he’s already moved on. problem solved. next?

minghao: "baby, im not a boy." he means it too. he’s not even tryna reassure you, he’s just stating facts. in his head, he’s already making a mental note to gas you up more often, ‘cause clearly, you need to be reminded.

mingyu: "okay, but do you think i’m about to stop?" he’s actually confused. like, physically unable to process why you even thought that would be an issue.

seokmin: "that’s cute, but i really don’t care." he laughs, not at you, just at the absurdity of the statement. in his head he’s making a mental note to never let you feel self-conscious around him again.

seungkwan: "do you think i’m about to write a yelp review on it? no. come here." genuinely baffled. he’s looking at you like you just said the dumbest thing ever, but in the softest, most loving way possible. inside, he’s doesn't understand why yall are even discussing this.

vernon: "cool. so anyway—" does not let you finish. immediately moves on. he could not care less.

chan: "do you really think i care about that when i’m this close to losing my mind over you? babe im like—super horny, no cap." his voice is almost desperate, because like, why are ypu stopping for this?

[00valentina-writes00]

♡♥︎Say Cheese, Tough Guy♥︎♡

Warnings: being put in a chokehold, being thirsty over sevika’s bicep.

Sevika is sitting at the worn-out bar in your shared apartment, a cigar resting between her fingers, the smoke curling toward the ceiling in lazy spirals. She looks half-distracted, her chemtech arm humming softly as she flexes her fingers, the faint glow of shimmer pulsing beneath the metal plates.

You’re perched on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when an idea strikes you—an absolutely stupid, ridiculous idea. But, naturally, it’s the kind of idea you have to go through with.

You glance up at Sevika, who’s still lost in thought, and casually say, “Hey, can you put me in a headlock?”

Her brows furrow immediately, her grey eyes flicking toward you with a look of pure skepticism. “What?”

You hold up your phone. “I wanna take a picture.”

She exhales sharply, shaking her head. “A picture of me choking you out?”

“Not choking me out,” you clarify, scooting closer to her at the bar, resting your elbows against the wooden surface. “Just… y’know. A light headlock. Show off those big, strong arms.” You flutter your eyelashes at her for dramatic effect.

Sevika gives you a look like she’s debating whether to laugh or throw you over her shoulder and actually put you in a headlock.

“No.”

You pout. “Why not?”

“Because it’s dumb.”

“That’s what makes it funny!”

She grunts, leaning back slightly, taking another slow drag from her cigar before exhaling through her nose. “No.”

You huff, dramatically slumping over the counter. “You never let me have fun.”

“I let you do plenty of stupid shit,” she counters. “Just last week, you made me try on your stupid little sunglasses. What were they called?”

“Cat eyes,” you mumble, fighting a smirk.

“Yeah. And I looked ridiculous.”

“You looked hot,” you argue.

She exhales, rubbing a hand down her face, her calloused fingers dragging over her stubble. “Why do you even want this picture?”

“Because your arms are sexy,” you say, deadpan. “And I want to document them.”

Sevika squints at you like she’s trying to gauge whether or not you’re actually serious (you are), before grumbling something under her breath. Then, finally, she sets her cigar down in the ashtray and tilts her head toward you.

“Fine. Get over here.”

Your heart leaps as you scramble off the couch, practically bouncing toward her. “Hell yeah.”

She sighs like she regrets every choice that led to this moment but still spreads her legs to let you step between them. She’s always warm, her body radiating heat, and when she lifts her right arm, you can see the way the muscle flexes beneath her shirt.

She wraps it around your neck—not too tight, just firm enough to hold you there—and instantly, you feel a lot smaller than you already are compared to her.

“Happy now?” she grumbles.

You angle your phone, making sure to get her bicep in the frame, the way it bulges as it rests against your jaw. You snap a couple of pictures, grinning like an idiot. “Very.”

“You’re such a menace.”

“And you love me,” you remind her, slipping your free hand around her waist, squeezing her side affectionately.

“Tch.”

You take one last picture before lowering your phone and leaning into her just a little, resting your weight against her broad frame. “This is actually kinda cozy.”

Sevika chuckles, low and deep, her chest vibrating against you. “You wanna take a nap like this now?”

“Maybe,” you say, nuzzling against her bicep. “You’re surprisingly comfortable.”

“Comfortable?” She flexes slightly, making the muscle beneath your cheek shift. “I could crush you.”

“And yet you don’t,” you hum, pressing a quick kiss against her skin. “Because you’re soft for me.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t deny it. Instead, her grip loosens just enough for you to turn and meet her gaze.

“You done?” she asks, arching a brow.

You glance down at your phone, admiring the pictures for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.”

She shakes her head but doesn’t let you go just yet. Instead, she tilts her head slightly, her eyes flicking to your lips.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she mutters before leaning in, capturing your mouth in a slow, deliberate kiss.

You hum against her lips, smiling into it. “Lucky, huh?”

She nips at your bottom lip in warning. “Don’t push it.”

You push it anyway. “Can I make this my lock screen?”

She groans. “Get outta here.”

You laugh, slipping out of her hold but not before stealing another kiss.

[bbokicidal]

Can I request Felix who is usually a sub leaning/vanilla and wants to dom reader for the first time, and Bangchan is there to help teach him what to do.

Idk if it makes sense but I love your work sm💕

-👩‍💻

[Drabble] Just A Little Help | Felix x Reader [+ Chan]

Felix loves when you take control, don't get him wrong. He likes the feeling of you being on top - hovering over him, sitting in his lap, riding him until his thighs push together and his knees knock against one another, shaking as you milk him dry. Those times are the best for him because it lets him relax, lets someone else take control so he doesn't have to worry about how he's doing, if he's doing it right, if he should do something different;

But he wants to try something new. He wants to try being dominant with you, but he isn't really.. sure where to start. It isn't the same as you being dominant so he can't really just think back and retrace your steps before following them himself, so he tries to do some research. But even then, he's a little nervous! Videos only show so much and so many of them are staged, even some of the amateur stuff (which is also filmed at shitty angles.)

Videos didn't help, articles didn't help - and his confidence is beginning to dwindle so much that he's debating just giving up and letting you dominate him like usual tonight. But then Chris sends him something - it's a meme, though it's sexual in nature, a clear innuendo that Chris is laughing at over text.

And so Felix decides to ask his Hyung for help.

It's a little embarrassing at first, but Chris seems to take it seriously. He understands why Felix is asking and offers up front to help the younger Aussie with his wants. He comes to the house in the evening and greets you with a polite smile.

When the time comes, you expect Chris to take his leave and head home. Only, Felix informs you that he wants Chris to stay, asking for your permission to keep him in the room. You're surprised, but if it's something they both want then you suppose it's alright - And you're only further surprised by the way your boyfriend initiates everything first. He's the one to kiss you, to gently guide you to the bed, to grind down against you and have you squirming beneath him in need. You're confused, but wildly aroused, and peek over at Chris only to see him gently nodding at Felix who was also glancing over.

Chris is there to guide him.

You've caught on, but stay quiet. Bringing it to their attention might only embarrass Felix and he seems to be in the groove right now, so you simply hum and moan and nod along as Chris comes closer to the bed to tell Felix what to do verbally. No more hints - simple, crisp, clear instructions. When to take off your jeans, how to pull down your panties with his teeth. Felix's tongue meets your clit and you gasp out, use to sitting on his face and having it all at once; But the gentle teasing he ensues when he's in control is enough to drive you mad - No tongue burying in your pussy, no suffocation of your poor sweet boyfriend beneath you. Instead it's little kisses peppered inside your thighs, the tip of his tongue flicking over the bundle of nerves he seemed to locate so expertly.

Chris watches the way your body shifts and uses your body language to decipher whether or not Felix needed to do more. He stays quiet until Felix comes up, hastily pushing his boxers down his thighs and crawling onto the bed between your legs. He doesn't need help with this part, sinking into your walls and whimpering at the way you seem to swallow him whole. Felix had to admit, the moment he started moving he almost regretted being on top - because he knew as soon as your thighs locked around his waist that he was going to become addicted to the feeling.

He's fucking into you just fine, and you seem to be pretty content with it - moaning, whining into the space between you - but Chris suggests Felix could take it a little further. Chris hums out that Felix could choke you, but the younger of the two quickly shakes his head. He isn't sure about it, is a little too shy to do such a thing just yet, and instead opts to lean down over you and cage you in with his elbows pressing just above your shoulders. It allows him to kiss you but still gives you the feeling of being held down, trapped beneath him.

Felix is exhausted by the time it's over. He isn't use to doing more of the work so he just lays atop you and lets you card your fingers through his hair while Chris sits aside quietly, waiting until someone got up to take his leave. He shifts when you get up first, rolling so Felix laid on the bed and you could get up and off of him.

Chris gives you time to get dressed, meeting you in the kitchen shortly after. He asks how it felt, if it was okay with him there - and when he hears that you actually liked having someone else in the room, Chris asks if he could potentially come back another time. Maybe be involved more.

Though, he has to warn you; He isn't as gentle as Felix is.

[musingsofmajesty]

𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐥. 𝐈𝐈

summary now that you’ve kissed, the two of you can’t help but wonder what it means moving forward. Luckily, it’s so easy being with each other that taking it day by day doesn’t seem half bad | wc 1.1k

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[best enjoyed in order, but not required! ♡]

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

If it’s one thing shy!eddie knows well, it’s labels. They’ve been forced on him all his life. But this—whatever has blossomed between the two of you—he can’t quite pin down. And the universe sure as hell isn’t gonna step in and do it for him. For once, the cards are in his hands, and he doesn’t know what to do with them. 

Later that night, he walks you out to your car, and it’s one of the hardest things he’s ever done. The feeling of your lips still lingers on his. He’s never wanted anyone to stay as badly as right now.

Nevertheless, you hug him one last time, and he gets the door for you without second thought because he’s always done so. Even before you made butterflies a permanent fixture in his stomach. 

“Thanks, Teddy,” you lilt as you settle behind the wheel. “Can I call you that?” You’re teasing, but only partly.  His blush is evident in the glow of the streetlamps that illuminate Forest Hills against the night. 

He hasn’t heard that nickname since it came past his mother’s lips when he was a boy. He smiles a little, lifts a shoulder as if he’s more indifferent than he is. “If you want," he says. 

You’re quiet for a beat, then cutely scrunch your nose up at him. “But what do you want?”  Eddie blinks like he hasn’t heard the likes of this question in a long while. 

“You can call me Teddy,” he decides. You could call him Edward for all he cared. Whatever you wanted, really. That’s when he realizes he’s in trouble. The best kind. 

Shy!Eddie who can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happens, but realizes he’s begun to pay more mind to the way he looks—undoubtedly because of you. One morning at 7 AM, his Uncle Wayne knocks on the bathroom door. Inside, he hears the startled sound of a tub of hair gel tumbling into the sink. “Shit—I’ll be out in a second!” 

An affectionate smirk pulls at Wayne's lips. “Guess I'll use it outside like a dog,” he jokes.  

Later that day, as Mrs. O’Donnell lectures the class, Eddie feels you poke the end of your pencil into the side of his ribcage from where you sit behind him. The way he straightens makes you smile, and he shoots a discreet glance over his shoulder to see what you want. Except your gaze is cast out the window in feigned innocence. 

Three minutes later, he curls in on himself as the ticklish pokes start up again. This time, you pass him a ripped piece of notebook paper that features your neat, bubbly handwriting: hi, handsome ;) 

All Eddie can do is helplessly flush with warmth. 

A couple weeks later, as you’re painting your nails on your best friend’s bedroom floor, you think aloud, “Me and Eddie.” Robin peers down at you from her bed, where she absentmindedly braids a strand of her hair. “I think we’re a sure thing.” 

Her brows lift in surprise. “So you’re official?” 

You purse your lips in consideration. “No, we’re just…us.” 

Robin frowns at first, but eventually nods because, maybe, that’s all love was ever meant to be. Unadulterated in the sense that it could never be bogged down to titles and definitions. 

“Sweet,”  she finally says. 

You nod and begin to smile at the thought of him. The way he gives you his full attention whether you’re talking about life at large or your day. The way he bites back his own goofy smile whenever he unintentionally makes you laugh—which happens all the time. The way he’s welcomed you into his little world.

You’re remiss that you weren’t braver sooner. 

“Yeah,” you agree in a wistful exhale. It is pretty sweet. You raise your hand to gently blow over the sheer pink polish coated on your fingertips. 

Like clockwork, the dismissal bell sounds to denote the end of yet another school day. A few more months, and you'll be kissing these stuffy, bustling halls goodbye.

Eddie catches up with you at your locker and asks if you’d like to go hang out with him in the woods behind the school. It’s nice out today. 

You narrow your eyes as you shut the metal door. “So was this your plan all along? Get my guard down so you can lure me into the woods and go in for the kill?” 

He knows you’re joking, but his answer is sincere anyway. His big bambi eyes dark and gooey as he says, “Never. No way.”

There’s a picnic table nestled amidst the tall trees, as it turns out. A calming breeze glides through the branches and rustles their leaves. Eddie sits first and expects you to choose the bench across from him, but you sit on the same side. You want to be near him. He can’t complain.

A comfortable silence settles between you that he eventually breaks. “Used to come out here a whole lot," he says. “I’d write songs or sit and listen to music," he lists. "Enjoy the scenery…” his words fade as his eyes settle back on you. There’s a tender depth to your gaze. 

He smiles a bit self-consciously, but he's not exactly embarrassed. More so hyperaware because you always make him feel so seen. “What?” he murmurs. 

Without a single word, you scoot closer to press your lips to his. One of his hands rise to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin. This kiss is different. Deeper. Unlike your usual affectionate pecks in every way. 

Warmth kindles in your stomach when his initial hesitancy dissipates. As he finds his way, his lips move sure and easy against your own. Plush and warm. You can feel his gentle exhales puff from his nose, and against your own desire, you slowly begin to pull away to ensure all this is alright.  

But Eddie’s okay. He’s more than okay. For the first time since he’s known you, he feels the soft tug of frustration in his chest. Except it’s not rooted in irritation. It’s rooted in want. 

When he leans back in, cheeks flushed and dark eyes hopeful, you let his lips just barely graze yours before you pull away. He tries again, and you lean back once more, flustered and excited by his newfound boldness. 

You place a gentle hand on his chest and chuckle despite yourself. “Easy, Teddy,” it’s a honeyed warning that carries no bite. 

“C’mere,” he insists, a pout on his face even though it's threatened by a smile. "Wanna kiss you." His voice drops low and shy, like it's a secret.

When you giggle, butterflies aflutter in your stomach, he takes it upon himself to hold you steady and kiss the sweet sound from your lips. 

The two of you are a sure thing, indeed.

Thanks for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated ♡

a/n making this a series because I can't get enough of these two. Stay tuned for the formal announcement!

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[iwasbored777]

I've been reading posts about GUN and I know they're going to be so bad in the fourth movie. Because not only is it possible that Rockwell, you know the openly xenophobic agent, will be the leader, but we're also going to have the Metal Sonics. When GUN sees alien threats built from the image of the alien they hate the most and can't chase, it's going to be the perfect excuse to want to capture Sonic and also Tails and Knuckles for sure. Not only that, with Amy in the movie it's going to get worse! If she really can travel through time with her chaos energy, I have no doubt that GUN will want to capture her too so they don't get this insane trump card. I dare say that a Team Heroes X GUN conflict is kind of inevitable.

Thanks for this ask cuz I feel so honoured to shame GUN for everything they've done. That previous post about Shadow wasn't enough, they did so many terrible things and I can't believe I didn't write this before your ask.

I can barely list all the worst things they did but I'll try and I'll answer to your other stuff so I hope you're ready and I hope you don't mind this whole analysis 😅 but I really wanted to talk more about GUN and since you clearly hate/dislike them just as much as I do (and many feel the same way) I really want to complain about them to someone who'll listen:

They were the ones that sent Robotnik in the first place. At least at the beginning he was just doing his job.

They knew that Gerald was Ivo's grandfather and alive all these years but they chose to not tell Ivo and let him think that he has no family his entire life. They used him because he was a genius and wanted him to make all those inventions for them and when they thought that he died they just acted as if he never existed.

They hired one of their agents to seduce Sonic's aunt, propose to her, and plan the whole wedding so that they would capture Sonic (I'm sorry I'm trying to stay serious but what the hell is wrong with GUN?! I don't know if I should cry or laugh and this is only the beginning). Poor Rachel too! They didn't care about anyone whether it was humans or aliens. I kinda wasn't happy that Rachel couldn't stay mad, what they did to her was horrible.

They captured Sonic and Tails. Tails was injured when they captured him and they didn't do anything about it, they simply put him and Sonic in cages after they tased Sonic to make sure he's unconscious too, they arrested Tom too when he tried to defend his son. This scene always breaks me, poor babies 😢

They found Shadow when he landed on Earth, kidnapped him, held him in a cryo pod and were doing experiments on him. (Gee, I wonder why Tom and Maddie didn't trust GUN with Sonic and kept Sonic hidden in their house instead after the first movie).

They were responsible for the death of a child, Maria (Walters did try to protect her and Shadow but when others killed her he mistreated Shadow. He definitely had more sympathy for Maria, she was a human child after all.) This moment right here physically hurts me cuz not only that they don't seem to care about the child they just killed but also they're surrounding Shadow and Gerald with weapons as if Shadow and Gerald were the ones who did something terrible here... They didn't care about the child they just killed, they only wanted to capture Shadow, that was their priority and Maria was just a collateral damage.

Right after they killed Maria they threw Gerald, her grandfather who loved her, in jail for 50 years and forced him to make Eclipse Cannon, that can destroy the planet. He went crazy because of all that and WHO WOULDN'T?!

They froze Shadow for 50 years (would definitely stay frozen way longer if he didn't escape) because they just didn't know what to do with him and kept him awake and fully aware of what they were doing to him during the process. I'll once again remind y'all of Walters' comment that Shadow was "too valuable to destroy", because Shadow was property to them and not a young living being with feelings and trauma that they gave him. His face here breaks my heart... Look how helpless he was here...

I added as many examples of how terrible GUN is as I can remember but if there are more you can always add them in the comments. I could easily add every scene and every screenshot with GUN cuz even at their better moments, they're still really bad, but I tried to pick the most important parts.

As for Rockwell, yeah she's gonna be a handful. She's definitely worse than Walters. At least he realized in his last moments that you can trust some aliens, but she isn't going to be easy to convince. They'll probably be even worse from now on and they probably didn't learn their lesson after Shadow. They better not hurt my baby girl Amy or the Colorful Bunch. I have some theories but I'd rather wait and see what's next.

Amy was hiding her identity here from Metal Sonic but I'm not sure if she doesn't want GUN to find her either cuz she's not hiding from Sonic, she let him see her.

Either way, it's not going to be easy for our alien kids and GUN gave me no reason to trust them so far. It says a lot that Robotnik and Stone were WAY more likeable to me than GUN. I hope GUN will leave Shadow alone and if they can't, I hope he'll kick GUN's butts again.

[prettyfilmz]

SWEET LIKE CANDY 2 • JEY USO

author's note: happy valentines' day my beautiful angels💌 I hope you are having an amazing day, whether you have a special someone or not, I love each and every single one of you🥰 part two of SLC is hot and fresh for y'all, just like part one it'll be short n' sweet but with a little bit of heat this time as promised😌 I hope you enjoy and happy reading💗!

synopsis: in which a celebration at the strip club leads to the beginning of a love affair between a wrestler and a dancer.

pairing: jey uso x black fem!oc (cherise aka candy)

tags: 18+ (MDNI), time-lapse, slow burn, lap dances, flirty banter, teasing, kissing, touches, dirty talk, pussy eating, fingering, jey is a certified munch™, daddy kink, pet names (pretty girl, mama, baby, babygirl), these mfs don't even know they're in love already (well jey does but cherise? poor baby needs a little help).

word count: 2.6k words

read part one here!

soundtrack playlist

3 months later…

Nursing school wasn’t a walk in the park.

Cherise sat at a cramped desk in the back corner of the library, eyes flickering between the highlighted notes in her textbook, a whiteboard full of her scribbled thoughts, and the lukewarm iced caramel latte beside her. Her braids were up in a bun, her glasses perched low on her nose, her purple scrubs wrinkled against her frame.

Nothing about her in this moment screamed Candy.

No stilettos. No glittering lingerie. No sultry confidence.

Just Cherise.

Quiet, focused, tired as hell.

Balancing school and dancing wasn’t easy, but it paid the bills. The club gave her freedom—let her work when she wanted, let her make rent in a single night sometimes and maybe give her a boost a confidence. It wasn’t forever, but for now? It worked like a charm.

Still, sometimes she wondered what it would be like to only be Cherise.

No stage names. No personas. No men sexualizing her with grabby hands and ravenous looks in their eyes.

No thoughts about a certain wrestler who disappeared on her for months. She hated that she even thought about him. It wasn’t like she expected him to chase her, but still…That night had lingered.

The way he touched her. The way he talked to her, teased her, made her feel like he actually saw her as a human. He was smooth, but it never felt like a pick-up line with him.

And then…nothing.

Not a single glimpse of him at the club since.

She wasn’t pressed, though. She had other things to worry about. Like passing her damn pharmacology exam. Cherise sighed, rubbing her temple. She needed a break.

And a drink.

Which meant…

Back to the club.

♡

Cherise had been backstage, touching up her lip gloss, her hair, and fixing her outfit, when Trinity had strutted up to her with a knowing smirk.

"You got a visitor, sweets.”

"Huh?" Cherise barely glanced up, adjusting the strap of her tiny lace bra. "Who?"

"That fine-ass Samoan you was tryna act like you ain’t been thinkin’ about."

Cherise froze.

Her stomach flipped. Her heart kicked up a notch.

"Shut up."

"I ain’t lyin’." Trinity leaned in, whispering.  "Jey is in VIP right now, waitin’ on you girl. Cherise felt heat creep up her neck. She cleared her throat, straightened her posture, forced her face into Candy’s confident smirk.  "That man ain’t nothin’ special."

Trinity laughed.  "Girl, if you don’t take yo’ ass out there so I can get Jim all to myself…”

So she did.

♡

And when she pushed open that VIP door? He was right there, sitting back on the couch like he owned the place.

Clad in a blue Nike fleece tracksuit. Thick thighs spread wide.  He had a gold grill peeking out when he grinned, one hand resting lazily on his knee, the other draped over the couch.

Looking good as hell.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

"Damn, ma… took you long enough." His voice was slow, teasing.

"Didn’t know you still remembered me." She smirked, sauntering closer, deliberately dragging her nails down his chest as she straddled him. "Been a minute, Joshua."

Jey exhaled a quiet laugh, hands settling right on her hips.  “You miss me, baby?"

"Mmm." She rolled her hips just enough to make him suck in a breath.  "I shouldn’t… but maybe a little."

"That’s cute." His hands slid lower, squeezing the curve of her ass.  "Been busy, mama. Mania comin’ up. You know how it is."

"Do I?" She arched a brow. "I wouldn’t know, since somebody ain’t keep in touch."

"Damn…" Jey chuckled, gripping her tighter. "That what we doin’?  You tryna guilt trip me ‘cause I got a job?"

"I’m just sayin’." She traced the chain around his neck, lips barely brushing his jaw. "I give a man my name and he vanish on me.  Kinda rude, don’t you think?"

"Nah, see it ain’t even like that…” His grip flexed on her hips, voice dipping lower.  "I was tryna be respectful, baby girl."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." He smirked, leaning in.  "’Cause the way I wanted you last time? I’d have fucked you silly if we weren’t on a time limit." Cherise shivered, heat flooding her stomach.

Jey felt it too, the way her thighs twitched in his lap.

"Mmm…" He licked his lips, voice thick with heat.  "See that, baby?  You tryna act all tough, but you feel me talkin’ to you, huh?"

"Shut up." She should have more control over this, more restraint, but Jey was dangerous. He could see through her entire ‘Candy’ act like cellophane. He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "Why? ‘Cause you know I’m right?" Her breath hitched. Jey groaned, voice gravelly. "I’on like unfinished business, baby girl. You left me high and dry last time."

"Maybe I like making you work for it."

"Yeah?" His fingers trailed between her thighs, barely grazing the heat of her pussy.  "Then lemme clock in, mama." Cherise gasped, hips jerking. "Jey-”

"Shhh." He kissed her, slow and deep, groaning into her mouth as he slid his hand into her panties. "Mmm, baby…" His fingers brushed against her slick folds, teasing, just barely pressing inside. "You feel so good, damn."

She whimpered, biting her lip.  "Jey-”

"Nah, I got you, mama."* He sucked at her throat, voice husky.  “I’m gon’ take real good care of you."

Something about the way he said that sentence made her almost want to melt away all of her resolve and let him take complete control over her.

Almost.

A shudder rolled through her. Jey noticed.

“Aww.” His grin was wicked.  “Is that what you need baby?”

Cherise’s breath hitched.  “Just…shut up and do something..”

"Oh, I’ma do more than that."

His fingers found her clit, swollen and throbbing, rubbing the nub in slow circles. Cherise gasped, hips jerking into his touch, her body betraying her even though she wanted to play this game a little longer.

"Shit…" He licked his lips, his free hand gripping her thigh, spreading her wider over his lap.  "You been sittin’ here actin’ like I ain't been on your mind, but this lil’ pussy tellin’ me somethin’ different, mama."

Cherise bit back a whimper, glaring down at him.  "You talk too much."

"And you still soakin’ my hand.” His fingers slid through her slick folds, slow, teasing, barely applying any pressure where she needed it.  "Mmm, damn, baby… I missed this."

"You ain’t even had it yet, Jey."

"Not yet." His grin was pure sin, eyes locked on her face as he dipped one thick finger inside her, slowly.  "But I’ma take my time wit’ you.”

Cherise’s head tipped back, a quiet moan slipping past her lips. Jey felt the way she clenched around him, her hips subtly rolling to meet the slow pump of his hand. "That’s it, baby girl…" His voice was dark, husky, dragging his finger out almost all the way before pressing another one inside.  "Let Daddy feel you."

A full-body shudder rolled through her.

Jey smirked. "Oh, you like that, huh?" Cherise bit her lip, cheeks heating, but she wasn’t about to admit anything.

"Mmm." Jey kissed her throat, tongue flicking out to taste her skin as his fingers curled, pressing just right against her g-spot. "Don’t gotta say it, pretty girl.  Your body already tellin’ me everything I need to know."

"Fuck…" Cherise whimpered, fingers curling into his hoodie as pleasure spiked through her. "Mmm, that’s what I like to hear, mama." Jey’s pace picked up, his fingers thrusting deeper, rougher, messier. "You hear that?" He groaned, grinding his palm against her clit. "Listen to this lil’ pussy, drippin’ all over my hand, damn…"

Cherise could hear it—lewd, sticky, wet sounds echoing in the dimly lit room.

Her breath hitched, hips bucking against his touch. "Jey-“

"Nah, baby, we ain’t done yet." His hand suddenly disappeared from her panties, making her whine at the loss.

Jey grabbed her by the waist and flipped her, laying her back on the couch, his body looming over her, heat radiating from him like a furnace. "Been waitin’ too long for this, mama…" He licked his lips, gaze locked right between her thighs as he spread them apart. "Lemme taste you, baby."

Before she could protest—not that she even wanted to—Jey lowered himself, dragging her panties down to her ankles with his fingers. "Ohhh, fuck…" His voice dropped an octave, eyes dark with pure hunger.  "Goddamn, baby… look at you."

Cherise squirmed under his stare, trying not to let it affect her. "You gon’ eat or just sit there and admire?" Jey chuckled, but his grip on her thighs tightened.  "Nah, I gotta take a second, baby… You just got a pretty fuckin’ pussy baby… shit, I knew you would." She whimpered, clenching at his words.

Jey could sense it.

"Awww, baby…" He grinned, pressing his lips against her inner thigh.  "She likes when I talk to her, huh?” Cherise’s face burned, but before she could throw out a smart remark, Jey’s tongue pressed against her clit.

"Ohhh fuck!” Her hips jerked, but Jey held her down, hands locked around her thighs as he devoured her. "Mmm, there we go…" he moaned into her, lips wrapping around her swollen clit, sucking slow, deep, dirty.  "Taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby… goddamn…"

Cherise’s fingers flew to his short curls, gripping tight as he worked her with his tongue.  "Jey… oh my God-“

"Mmm-hmm…" Jey hummed against her, sending vibrations straight to her core. "You like that, baby? Feel good?"

"Y-yeah—fuck—" She gasped, thighs trembling.

Jey smirked against her, dipping lower, tongue dragging through her folds, fucking her with slow, teasing licks. "Mmm, yeah… gon' fuck around and give me a sweet tooth, mama."

Cherise let out a shaky moan, back arching as he flattened his tongue against her again, again, sucking, licking, tasting like he was starving.

"You close, baby girl?" Jey murmured, voice dripping with sin as he slid two fingers back inside her, curling them just right.  "C’mon, mama… make a mess on my tongue."

"Jey—fuck, I’m cumming—ohhhh!" Her body snapped, pleasure ripping through her as her orgasm rushed over her like a tidal wave. Jey groaned, keeping his tongue and fingers right where she needed them, working her through every aftershock, swallowing every drop of her arousal.

"Mmm, good girl…" His voice was pure gravel, lips shiny with her slick as he finally pulled back, dragging his tongue over his lips like he wanted to savor the taste.  "Damn, I love this lil’ pussy, baby… look at her, still twitchin’ for me…"

Cherise could barely move.

Her legs shook, body weak, head spinning.

Jey grinned, leaning down, kissing her slow, deep, letting her taste herself on his tongue. "See what you been missin’, mama?" She hummed against his lips, still floating. "Mmm… maybe you should remind me again…"

Jey chuckled, nipping at her bottom lip.  "You bad, girl…"

A sudden knock on the door made them both freeze.

"Time’s up, Candy!”

Jey let out a frustrated groan, resting his forehead against hers.  "Man… fuck."

Cherise giggled breathlessly, brushing her fingers down his jaw.  "Guess that’s my cue.”

The knock on the door lingered in the room like an unwelcome intruder. Cherise sighed, pushing her trembling thighs together, body still buzzing from the way Jey had just worked her like he owned her.

This man is dangerous.

Jey sat back on the couch, one arm slung across the top, legs still spread like he had all the time in the world.  His smirk was lazy, smug, and damn near irresistible.

"Time’s up, huh?" He licked his lips, his hand sliding down his face as he looked her over. "They ain’t even let me finish makin’ you mine, mama."

"Please." Cherise rolled her eyes, smoothing her hands over her thighs before standing on slightly shaky legs. "I think you finished plenty, Joshua."

The way she said his name had him sitting up straighter, that cocky grin softening into something warmer.  "Damn, you really like callin’ me that huh?”

"What else would I call you?" she teased, bending slightly to grab her panties and pull them back up to her hips.

His gaze didn’t miss a thing, the soft, teasing shift of her voice, the way her hands moved over her body.

"I could think of a few things." His tone was low, playful, with just enough edge to let her know he wasn’t entirely joking.  "Daddy would sound real good comin’ from your mouth."

Cherise’s lips parted, blood rushing to her ears, but she only shook her head and smirked as she reached for his hand.  "You gon’ keep playin’, or you gon’ let me write this number down before I change my mind?"

"Go on, then." He handed her a pen, his gaze steady as she took his hand, her nails lightly grazing his palm as she began writing. "I don’t usually do this," she murmured, her voice quieter now, softer than her Candy facade. "You better not make me regret it."

Jey tilted his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  "Mama, you really think I’d fumble somethin’ like this?"

"Mmm, I guess we’ll see." She capped the pen, slipping it back to him, but didn’t pull her hand away just yet.  Her fingers lingered against his for a moment longer, and when she looked up, Jey was staring at her like she was his whole world.

"Get home safe," she said softly, her voice more Cherise than Candy now.

"You too, pretty girl."* He gave her a smile, the kind that wasn’t cocky but genuine, the kind that made her stomach flip.  "Don’t be actin’ shy when I hit your line, though."

She laughed quietly, adjusting her skimpy outfit.  "I’ll think about it."

And with that, she slipped out the door, leaving him alone in the quiet heat of the VIP room.

♡

The apartment was quiet, the faint hum of the city drifting in through the cracked window.  Cherise lays in bed, tangled in her cozy blankets, her body still sore, her mind still replaying the night in vivid detail.

She didn’t even know why she’d given him her number. It completely out of character for her. She didn’t do things like this—getting caught up with clients, letting them get under her skin.

But Jey…

Joshua.

Something about him felt different.

Her phone vibrated on the pillow beside her, the soft glow of the screen illuminating the darkness.

Her heart skipped.

She reached for it, thumb swiping over the screen, and there it was.

Unknown number: You still up, baby girl?

She smiled, biting her lip as she stared at the text for a moment.  Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard before she typed back.

Cherise: Maybe. Why? 👀

The three little dots appeared immediately.

Jey: ’Cause I’m thinkin’ bout you. ��

Her stomach flipped.

Cherise: Oh really?

Jey: Hell yeah. Shit, I can still taste you on my lips, baby girl. 👅

Her cheeks burned, her thighs pressing together at the memory.

Cherise: You’re ridiculous🙄

Jey: Nah, I’m serious. Been waitin’ three months to see you again, and now all I can think about is how bad I wanna see you outta that club.

Cherise blinked, rereading the text twice, her breath catching in her throat.

He wanted to see her again?  Outside the club?

Cherise: I don’t know if that’s a good idea…

The reply came almost instantly.

Jey: Why not? You scared I’ma make you fall in love wit’ me?😏

She rolled her eyes at the screen, but her heart was beating a little too fast.

Cherise: Boy, goodnight. 

Jey: Goodnight, pretty girl.  Sweet dreams. ♥️

She set the phone down beside her, staring at the ceiling with a quiet smile on her lips.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

But damn, it felt good.

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[koyagifs]

𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾

pairing: yeosang x reader au: idol | best friends to lovers | genre: fluff word count: 1.5 k synopsis: everyone knew how head over heels yeosang is for you. and everyone knew how head over heels you are over yeosang. warning(s): fluff, sweet tooth rotting - literally will get cavities.

It was one of those unspoken truths, like the sun rising in the east or Mingi always forgetting where he left his keys. Everyone knew Yeosang was completely, unapologetically head over heels for you. His gaze would linger a little longer when you laughed, his tone softening whenever he spoke to you. And everyone knew you were just as captivated by him—the way your eyes sparkled when he entered the room or how your voice lit up when you said his name.

The rest of the group was thoroughly amused by it. Wooyoung, in particular, never missed an opportunity to tease either of you about the "mutual pining saga" that, in his words, "could put a K-drama to shame."

San would smirk knowingly every time Yeosang stumbled over his words when talking to you, while Yunho would silently cheer you on from the sidelines, rooting for one of you to make the first move. Jongho and Seonghwa, ever the more composed ones, usually just shared quiet, exasperated glances that seemed to say, When are they finally going to figure it out?

But none of the teasing or quiet nudges mattered because, in your world, it was just you and Yeosang. Even if you hadn’t said the words out loud yet, everyone could see it written all over your faces.

Wooyoung had hit his limit. Watching you and Yeosang dance around your obvious feelings was like watching two magnets desperately trying to stick together but somehow always missing the connection. It was infuriating, hilarious, and tragically adorable all at once.

One evening, after a group hangout where Yeosang spent the entire time stealing glances at you while you giggled at everything he said, Wooyoung had enough. It was near valentines day and Wooyoung had a plan. He flopped onto the couch dramatically and announced to the room, “hey yn, do you have a valentines ?”

You looked at him confused as the room quieted down, Yeosang sending Wooyoung a sharp glare.

"well no i don't but it's a stupid holiday anyways" you mumbled.

A malicious smirk was placed on Wooyoung face as he laid his head on your lap, looking up at you with ease.

" be mine? "

The room froze. All eyes darted between you and Wooyoung, tension thick in the air. Yeosang’s sharp glare deepened, his lips pressing into a tight line. Your cheeks flushed crimson, caught completely off guard by Wooyoung’s bold declaration.

“W-What?” you stammered, staring down at Wooyoung, who was now grinning like a cat that had just cornered a mouse.

“I said,” Wooyoung repeated with exaggerated slowness, his smirk widening, “be mine, Ynie. You don’t have a Valentine, and I’m available. It’s a win-win, right?”

Yeosang’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he stayed silent, his jaw tightening. The others in the room exchanged wide-eyed glances, unsure whether to intervene or let the chaos unfold.

You blinked, utterly flustered. “Wooyoung, I—”

Before you could say anything more, Yeosang abruptly stood up, his chair screeching loudly against the floor. All heads whipped toward him as he glared daggers at Wooyoung, his normally calm demeanor completely shattered.

Yeosang’s glare flickered with something deeper—hurt, frustration, and maybe even panic. Without a word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving everyone stunned. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the suddenly tense space.

You jumped up, pushing Wooyoung off your lap with more force than necessary. He landed on the floor with a loud thud, groaning dramatically as he looked up at you, but you didn’t care.

“Wooyoung, what the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, your voice sharper than usual.

“Hey!” Wooyoung defended, sitting up and rubbing his arm. “I was just helping! You two are painfully slow, and I figured—”

“Figured what?” you cut him off, your anger bubbling over. “That you could just push Yeosang like that? He clearly—”

You stopped mid-sentence, the realization hitting you like a freight train. Yeosang had left because of you. Because he thought… he thought you might actually say yes to Wooyoung.

Wooyoung’s smug grin faded, replaced with a sheepish expression. “Okay, maybe I miscalculated a bit,” he muttered, glancing at the door Yeosang had disappeared through.

You huffed, shoving Wooyoung back to the ground for good measure as you made your way to Yeosang.

" can you two finally kiss to?! I'm tired of the sexu- ow hyung!"

Wooyoung’s cry was cut off as Seonghwa smacked the back of his head with a pillow, his face a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“Shut up, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa muttered, though the slight twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

You didn’t stick around to hear the rest. Rolling your eyes, you huffed and stormed out of the room, determined to find Yeosang and fix whatever Wooyoung had managed to break—or at least, whatever Yeosang thought was broken.

As you stepped outside, the crisp air nipped at your skin. It didn’t take long to find him. Yeosang was sitting on the edge of the porch steps, staring out at the darkening sky, his shoulders tense and his head hanging low.

“Yeosang,” you called out gently, walking up behind him.

He stiffened slightly at the sound of your voice but didn’t turn around. “You don’t have to be here. I get it,” he said, his tone distant, like he was bracing himself for the worst.

You frowned, coming closer until you were standing beside him. “Get what?”

“That you don’t…” He hesitated, then shook his head. “Never mind. Just go back to the others.”

“Yeosang,” you said firmly, lowering yourself to sit beside him. He glanced at you briefly, his expression guarded. “You’re being ridiculous. Wooyoung was just being Wooyoung. You didn’t actually think I’d say yes to him, did you?”

He looked down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting nervously. “I don’t know. Maybe. I thought… maybe you’d want someone more confident, someone who could actually tell you how they feel without messing it up.”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice. “Yeosang,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “You’re the only one I want. I’ve wanted you for so long, and I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, wide with surprise. “You… you thought that?”

You nodded, smiling a little despite yourself. “We’re both kind of hopeless, aren’t we?”

He let out a breathy laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing as he looked at you with a mixture of relief and adoration. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the world around you fading away as the weight of unspoken feelings finally began to lift. Then, Yeosang’s gaze flickered to your lips, and his voice dropped to a whisper.

“Can I…?”

You didn’t let him finish. Leaning in, you closed the small distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss. It was sweet and perfect, everything you’d imagined and more.

From inside the house, Wooyoung’s muffled voice rang out. “Finally! Thank you! I’ve been waiting for months!”

“Wooyoung, shut up!” San yelled, followed by another loud thud and what sounded suspiciously like a wrestling match breaking out.

You and Yeosang pulled away, laughing softly as the chaos continued inside. He rested his forehead against yours, his smile so radiant it made your heart skip a beat.

“Be my Valentine?” Yeosang asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of his feelings.

You hummed playfully, pretending to think about it, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll have to consider it—”

Before you could finish, Yeosang’s hands moved to your sides, his fingers finding the perfect spots to tickle you. You let out a surprised squeal, squirming as laughter spilled from your lips.

“Yeosang!” you protested between giggles, trying to push his hands away, but he only grinned mischievously.

“Say yes,” he said, his voice full of laughter as he continued to tickle you.

“Okay, okay!” you managed to choke out, your laughter echoing in the quiet evening air. “Yes! I’ll be your Valentine!”

He finally relented, his hands dropping back to his sides as he leaned back slightly, a triumphant smile lighting up his face. “That’s what I thought,” he said, his tone teasing but his eyes soft and full of affection.

You huffed, still catching your breath, but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Yeosang.”

“And you’re lucky you said yes,” he shot back, his grin widening.

The two of you sat there for a moment, the world around you feeling brighter and warmer despite the cool evening air. Inside the house, the muffled sounds of bickering and laughter reminded you that the others were probably eavesdropping, but you didn’t care.

Right now, it was just you and Yeosang, and for the first time in forever, everything felt perfectly right.

[hyuny-bunny]

seasons // series

part vii

summary: Minho is determined to be the one to win your heart.

warnings: sweat (?), panic attack symptoms (hyperventilating)

part vi • masterlist

"Hey, look at me," Jisung says as he grabs your face. You were beginning to hyperventilate after seeing the look on Minho's face.

"Jisung I-"

"Stop, just breathe, okay, close your eyes," He held your face as you focused on every breath count.

Why did the idea of these two crossing paths make you so anxious and uncomfortable? Minho had been around your ex's before, even going as far as trying to befriend them for your sake. So, why was this any different? After your heart rate began to level, Jisung pulled you into a hug rubbing your back soothingly as he called someone. It was only a few moments after, you picked up you head to see the puppy faced boy who was the 2nd person closest to you.

Seungmin took the seat on your on the side of you before ruffling your hair.

"What's wrong?" He asked sympathetically. Even his voice was enough to ground you in something.

You gave him the run down of saturday morning's argument with Minho, then going out and meeting Hyunjin, going home with Hyunjin, to now sitting outside the dance studio where the two have crossed paths.

Seungmin doesn't shame you or even scold you but he does lightly bump his fist to your head making you let out a strained laugh.

"Why are you so worried about this? Is Hyunjin a bad guy?"

"No... he's actually a really sweet guy, even for an alpha.."

"Okay, and how is this situation any different then when you were dating someone else?"

You stop for a moment thinking with pursed lips.

"I guess it's... not? I just... you didn't see the look on Minho's face, he looked like I had just murdered his cat."

"That's a bit extreme," Seungmin says with a chuckle as he fixes a strand of hair from your face. "Either way, who you sleep with or don't sleep, whether he knows or doesn't, is your choice and only you for you to judge. If you say he's a good guy, then trust yourself."

He was right. Why should you be so afraid of what Minho thought? As much as you valued his opinion as a friend, it was just as much you're right to sleep with whoever and whenever as you were single, not tied down to anyone. You lay your head on Seungmins shoulder for a moment.

"I should've told you everything yesterday but I knew you were busy with-"

"I am never too busy for you, okay? Call, text, send Jisung to my door with a message from you- actually don't do that I don't want him at my place," Seungmin says as his face scrunches in disgust at Jisung who sits next to you about to protest.

The two banter back and forth for a moment making you laugh, feeling lighter about everything. They keep you company until the others emerge from their dance class.

-

Jeongin yapped Hyunjin's ear off in those 10 minutes they had for a break as Felix shielded his face in hands. He could feel Minhos eyes throwing daggers at Hyunjin's head.

Hyunjin had learned in those 10 minutes that Minho and you had been friends since childhood, with Minho having had a crush on you long before you presented as an omega and him as an alpha. He couldn't help but wonder why the two of you didn't ever get together. As far as he could tell, the two of you seemed a likely match. While he did know Minho well enough to pass judgement, it was clear the Alpha had an affinity for taking care of the people around him, even if it was as simple as helping someone get a dance move down correctly or making sure no one was too worn down.

Even the bite in the way he joked was so similar to you, it was playful and harmless but could be taken very different if aimed at the right person. There was no denying how good looking he was either. From his build and stature despite not being very tall, there was an energy about him that asserted that dominance intentional or not.

Hyunjin had decided it was best to not let Minho on any further information about the nature of your relationship. If Minho wanted to know anything then he would have to ask you.

The class continued on for another hour, if Minho went back to his cool and collect facade for the remainder of class. Felix watched every movement for Minho waiting for the moment he snapped but he never did. Once the class was over, students trickled out slowly until it was just Jeongin, Hyunjin, Minho and Felix.

As much as it hurt Minho to do this, he couldn't deny the talent that Hyunjin had. The two exchanged numbers so they could work on a possible separate choreography to film. Hyunjin kept his cool so long as Minho did. As the four of them began to make their way to the door, Minho's stomach turned at the idea of facing you.

When he saw you sitting on that bench beside Jisung and Seungmin, it seemed to all melt away. You held out an electrolyte bottle to Minho who gleefully took it. Hyunjin trotted behind him with a smile on his face.

"I'd hug you but I'm soaked in sweat," Hyunjin said as he stood in front of you.

"Oh it's fine don't worry about it! So, uh, I'm guessing I don't have to introduce you two to each other?" You ask looking between Minho and Hyunjin.

"We're pretty well acquainted now," Minho says a bit stiff but Hyunjin just laughs. You attempt to change the topic.

"How come you didn't tell me you were a dance major?" You asked nervously looking between Minho and him.

"You never asked," Hyunjin shrugs as he drinks his water, "I'm not a dance major though."

Minho, Felix and Jeongin cock their head in confusion. He laughs at their reactions before speaking again, "I'm an illustratrative art major, painting is more my forte but dancing is my outlet."

Felix chimes in, "Was that tattoo your design then?"

"What tattoo?" You ask confused but Hyunjin just lets out a soft laugh as he nods to answer Felix's question.

Hyunjin puts his bag down to peel his shirt up revealing the rose tattoo the starts between his shoulder blades and trails down further beneath the fabric in vines and thorns. Unconsciously you reach out to touch it which makes Hyunjin shiver and takes everything in Minho to not rip your hand away.

"I didn't see this before," You murmur in awe of the space it takes up on his back.

"Kinda hard to with when you were preoccupied with other things," Hyunjin says with a wolfish grin as he pulls his shirt back on as he watches the flush creep onto your cheeks and watching you awkwardly laugh.

Minho clears his throat grabbing your wrist abruptly, "We should get going, have somewhere to be in a few but we'll see you guys on wednesday."

"Minho, we don't have anything-"

"Yes, we do, remember." He says through clenched teeth before continuing to drag you away from the group.

"Still on for Friday?" Hyunjin's calls out as he watches the Alphas drag you away.

"Yes!" You shout from over your shoulder as Minho throws his arm around your shoulder to keep you from looking back.

Hyunjin watches feeling satisfied by successfully getting under Minho's skin. He bids his goodbye to the others but before he does Felix runs up to him asking to exchange numbers, you know, incase co-captain things come up. Hyunjin is more than happy to exchange numbers with the pretty blonde omega as he bids goodbye for the last time.

-

"This is the urgent business you were talking about?" You ask sarcastically as you sit in the quiet boba shop booth with Minho across from you.

It was your normal hangout spot but it was also ritual for the two of you to come here every 1st day back of the new semester. It was a cat themed boba shop and it was truthfully one of Minho's favorite places to be, especially with you.

"Yes, they close at 8pm, I didn't want us to miss our chance... how were your classes today?" He asks looking up at you attempting to change the topic from his insistent ways of getting you as far away from Hyunjin as possible.

"Good, my professors are pretty nice. I'm writing my first novel this semester too."

"Will you read it to me when you're ready?" He asks.

"Of course, who else will I read it to?" He internally responds with a scowl at the thoughts of you reading it to Hyunjin.

The two of sit in a comfortable silence listening to the sounds of the people chattering around you.

"What are you doing with Hyunjin on Friday?" Minho is the first to speak up. Likely plotting how to disrupt those plans.

"Not too sure yet... How did you like him?" diverting the question back to Minho.

"Seems nice." He says shortly, unable to meet your gaze. He wouldn't admit that despite his flirty advances towards you, he liked him enough to consider him someone worth getting to know. You hum in acknowledgment. "The lunch you made me was good, thank you."

"You're welcome, nothing compares to your cooking but I try," You say as you stretch up in your seat feeling the exhaustion of the day wearing on you. Minho takes the signal and grabs both your belongings ready to head out.

The warm feeling that spread through your chest as you can't help feeling thankful how easy Minho picks up on your body language, almost better than you can. The drive to your apartment is quiet as the two of you talk about the coming day of other classes tomorrow.

"Oh that reminds me, Saturday night, are you free?" You perk up in your seat.

"I should be, something you want to do?"

"I promised Seungmin that we'd go to his nerdy film marathon, please come with me?" You ask jutting out your bottom lip, while giving him your best puppy eyes.

"Mmmmm what's in it for me?" Minho would say yes regardless but he wanted to see what you would say.

"I'll make your favorite cookies but... i'll make them into little cats." You say with a straight face.

"Deal." He mimics your face until he sees that smile on your face making his heart do a flip.

"Perfect, I'll see you tomorrow," You say quickly climb out of his car before he got a chance to say anything else.

He watches as walk off into your building waving back at him, meeting Hyunjin was like setting a fire under him. He was more determined than ever to get you to see him as someone who could be there for, love you, to be your mate. He would stop at nothing now to be the one that puts that smile on your face.

[totallyxtaurus]

I just want you to know who I am 🏮

Summary: What if Sylus had kept going to all those lantern festivals in hopes you'd be there and what would he do if you actually were. Pairing: Sylus x gn reader A/N: Um hi! I haven't written a "fanfic" since middle school so this has me super uncomfortable and feeling especially vulnerable since I am VERY out of practice. I've only been writing academic papers for the past four+ years and while I've taken a couple creative writing courses I just felt subpar compared to my peers and I stopped writing fiction completely. However, I maladaptive daydream constantly and Sylus + music is a really good source of creativity for me. I have a part two in mind but we'll see! So, my awkward ramblings aside, I hope you enjoy! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

“Boss, we found them. Apparently, they’re residing in Linkon,” the twins reported as they placed the manila folder on his desk. Sylus, not sparing them a glance, grunts softly in recognition keeping focused on his task at hand. However, a fire fueled by hope kindles in his heart at the news, radiating warmth through his chest, as if gently urging him to surrender to its pull. He opened the folder and began to read the information in front of him. Still, nothing matched the description he had given. Heaving a sigh, the flame of hope dampened, Sylus notices a note on the document about the upcoming lantern festival. He pauses, wondering if, regardless of the accuracy of the information he has, you might be there.

The sky had already grown dark, and fireworks echoed in the distance. The smell of delicious food permeated the air and the bright lights of millions of lanterns strung up and decorated every inch of the ground burned into Sylus’s retinas. Yet, he continued to press on. He’s been walking around for hours, taking in every sight and smell, but also searching for anyone who might be you. Anyone with the same color hair or stature as you once had. His trained eye sought out anyone who laughed in a similar octave you had, scrutinizing each face, hoping he finally found you. But every time, it led to that same emptiness cradled deep in the core of his being—the part of you still trapped there, lying dormant.

That was… how many years ago now? Sylus had lost count of how long he’d returned to Linkon’s lantern festival. Each time a failure, each time dimming the flame of hope that once burned at the mention of Linkon City. Yet, it was that time of year again when the festival would commence, just as it always did. This would be the last time Sylus participated, finally deciding to give up the search for you—for good. The same sights, sounds, and smells that once sparked curiosity in Sylus, now suffocate him. What had once been a world of wonder distorts into a stifling prison, each sensation now nauseating, a reminder of the weight that has settled on him.

Up and down the same aisles, back and forth through familiar stalls, Sylus drifts through the festival on autopilot, visiting the vendors he’s known for years. Each one greets him with a warmth that feels strangely foreign, their smiles are tinged with an apprehension he can’t ignore. That same apprehension had followed him ever since he first started coming to the festival—whether it was the stolen glances of passersby or the blatant gawking of children. Sylus knows he sticks out like a sore thumb, but he ignores it, continuing his monotonous stroll.

He stops in his tracks, taking in the scene before him—a child wailing over what sounds like a lost hand puppet. Sylus glances down at the lion head puppet resting in his hand and kneels to offer it to the child. The crying halts instantly, and wary yet sparkling eyes look up at him. The parents, overwhelmed with gratitude, profusely thank him before ushering their child along. As he straightens up, a familiar floral fragrance hits him. His heart races. His head snaps left and right, his body swiveling desperately as he searches for the source. He knows that scent—it sparks the fire within him, a fire that ignites and pulses through his entire body. Without thinking, his legs begin moving, drawn by a golden trail of light that weaves through the reddish-black mist around him. It’s guiding him. It’s guiding him to you. You’re actually here.

Also, in case anyone is like me and is interested in knowing the inspiration behind pieces of writing. This is the song I was listening to while writing and titling this! 💗

[hirayalore]

you and sirius never discussed it out loud, but you both knew that you didn’t want to have kids after everything that happened in the last 13 years.

it wasn’t always like that, though (contrary to popular belief). he could faintly remember back then when both of you were still studying in hogwarts that you’d open the prospect of having children with him and having a family someday—and sirius, although scared to death at the thought of ever raising kids his own when he didn’t even grow up with good parents himself, was amicable with the idea if it meant that he’d see little versions of you running around in your future home.

but then he was imprisoned for 12 years, and that was 12 years of not spending every single day with you, of not waking up in bed beside you, of not being able to share meals, of not being able to do the most normal things that young couples did in their twenties… of not being able to propose, of getting married, of having a family together…

so, when he came back and got his name cleared by the ministry, all he wanted was to make up for that lost time. you and him were already 37 years old after all, and although it wasn’t relatively old, he still felt like both of your years ahead would never be enough to compensate for what has been taken—making the prospect of having kids and having to think of someone else other than yourselves unappealing.

until one night, he decided to make a bold step in knowing whether you two were truly on the same page like he was assuming. you never told him about your opinion regarding it, but in the way you were with him after his return, he could feel it in his bones that you didn’t want to focus on anything else other than your rekindled relationship with each other.

but he just had to make sure.

“darling,” he murmured, as you two were trying to fall asleep, his arms around you while your nose was nuzzling his throat, “do you… still ever think about having children?”

you raised your head up almost immediately, meeting his gaze. “what’s with the question?”

“nothing. it’s just that—it’s something we used to talk about. ages ago, really.”

“yeah, it was.” your eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if you were trying to recall the times you did talk about it. “we used to plan that we’d buy a flat in london and live in a muggle city, just to piss your parents off further.”

he chuckled. “we did.”

“and we’d have two kids. one girl and one boy.” you smiled, faintly remembering now.

sirius nodded. “they’d both should have my eyes—”

“and then have the rest of my features, with the nose being a requirement.” you finished for him, saying the exact line he used to tell you back then. 

the two of you laughed at the memory, fascinated at how the teenage mind works when you’re in love. at that age, you always felt invincible, like nothing could ruin the plans that you and your lover have made for yourselves. you would always believe that everything would go smoothly and that happily-ever-after was right next door, never ever thinking that adulthood could potentially drive you crazy or in this case, a dark wizard was going to try to seize control over your people.

when the laughter died down, you gazed deeply at each other, understanding that just as the times have changed—so have the circumstances and ultimately, your decision.

you ran your fingers on the side of his head, combing parts of his hair, admiring the manner in which his face showed nothing but quiet contentment.

“maybe in another life,” you began, voice coming out as a whisper, “we’d have those things. we’d have kids, and have a big home, but right now…” you leaned closer and pressed your forehead against his, savoring the proximity you once longed for in thousands of nights. “i’m happy with just the two of us. with you, sweetheart.”

sirius smiled and nodded, a hand gently rubbing along the expanse of your back, tugging you closer. “me too, love.” he sighed. “me too.”

with no other words needed to be spoken, you pressed a brief yet firm kiss on his lips before sinking back in your previous position, embracing him and nestling in his arms, knowing that even an eternity of making up for what fate had stolen would never feel enough.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[asheepinfrance]

i wrote this with futile devices in mind but i don't think that really shows. i don't think it matters cause i think this one's silly. there's not much of a plot, this is just sorta a day in patrick's life after moving back in, in my mind a week or so post-new rochelle. i hope you like it. as always, feel free to leave any thoughts, critiques, etc. in the comments, should you have any advice on where to improve. thank you <333

The sun rose an hour ago, and Patrick woke with it, whether or not he wanted to. He can blame Tashi for the disturbance, because apparently she’d been the one to choose the thin, white curtains that are doing absolutely nothing to block out the rays of sunshine threatening to make him actually do something with his day. He’d rather not, really, when it’s better to curl up and pretend nothing is real besides the warmth of his blanket for another few hours. Eventually, Tashi and Art join the sensory input keeping him from sleep. He’s not even comfortable anymore, too leggy and curled up to fit onto their couch properly, but he can’t make himself move. He likes that he knows they’re looking at him, learning to watch him exist again. Learning to be comfortable with him the way they used to be. 

It’s quite easy, actually, to get comfortable again. He hasn’t changed in too many ways, though there’s an air about him that hadn’t been there in their younger years. Whether that came with age, a natural maturation, or their absence they weren’t sure. They’d feel less guilty about the former, though. Tashi’s holding a mug in both hands, the warmth slightly stinging at her palms, heating the metal of her wedding ring up. She watches Art watch Patrick, who shifts slightly to cover his face with the throw blanket they’d lent him. How he’d ended up staying the night at their hotel the first time was unclear. Now, here he is, curled into the couch of their actual home, acting as Dad #2 for Lily when she and Art are training, and switching off when she finally gives in and coaches Patrick a bit. She’s sure her mother appreciates the break. 

She laughs through her nose, her shoulders bouncing with it, and the sound, or lack thereof, breaks Art from his trance. “Has he always been this deep a sleeper?”, she asks like she doesn’t know the answer. Art drums his fingers against the marble countertop, a satisfying, rhythmic wave created by just some skin and bone. She wishes she could be an artist in that way, just moving her body and making something worth seeing. She used to have that. “I don’t know, it’s been a long time”, he shrugs, sniffles a little bit. They both know that he won’t move until about 12 in the afternoon, just like he always had done.

Patrick “wakes” to Tashi’s eyes level with his, and he can’t imagine why she’d kneel for him of all people, and just for the sake of greeting him. The roles should be reversed and he knows it, Art probably knows it from wherever he’s watching this display from. He feels a bit like a child with the way she speaks to him, airy and soft like he’s delicate. He isn’t entirely aware that he is. “Hey… you sleep ok?” He grunts when he sits up, a noticeable ache in the muscles of his lower back that her gaze immediately falls to, her lips pulling down the slightest bit. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like for that disapproving of hers to be born out of concern. “You know you can always sleep in the guest room, right?” He shakes his head, waves his hand somewhere in her direction to signal disapproval, and she doesn’t really understand why he won’t take the easy way out. After all, isn’t Patrick known for it? But he thinks he hasn’t earned it yet. He has to make Tashi and Art remember he’s sweet, that he can be a better man than he’d shown himself to be, because no one loves a man who only wins for himself, and then again he rarely wins at all. Everyone loves a selfless champion, so no one could quite love him. So he needs them to remember he values their attention so deeply that just knowing the layout of their house now, watching them exist and love one another, knowing the name of their preferred coffee, that’s enough for him. He isn’t sure whose approval it is that he needs more at this point.

Patrick’s favorite part of the day, or at least, part of the day to himself, has become showering. He remembers the first night, back at the hotel in New Rochelle, he’d watched dirt he hadn’t known existed run off of his skin in that warm water and he felt new. He felt clean and pure and cried like a baby, curling onto that cold, tile shower floor. He only snapped back into his own body when Art had knocked on the door after an hour, fearing Patrick had fallen. Patrick isn’t sure why he let Art come in, shakily voicing his consent through the unlocked door, considering his state, but Art didn’t mind. He minded so little that he kneeled at Patrick’s side, still clothed, and held him through it. He ignored the shirt now sticking to his skin, the inevitable heaviness of wet denim, and let Patrick fall into him like he’d needed to for 13 years. His awe at consistent availability of warm water hasn’t run off, and he can’t get out until the jack-and-jill bathroom mirrors have fogged up with steam, and he lets himself hope for a bit that his toothbrush will join theirs in that little cup in between the two sinks. 

When he watches Lily later that day, sitting on his knees to watch her intently draw on a sheet of yellow construction, she doesn’t seem to notice the weight of her words when she says, “You know, Mama and Dad haven’t been fighting so much now that you’re here.” She’s like Tashi in that sense, not knowing that every little thing she does has everyone’s heart aching. He can’t help the little scoff that comes out, more from disbelief rather than annoyance, and Lily just goes back to scribbling on her paper. “Whatcha drawing, kid?” He asks, forcing himself to change the topic and not wallow in something sickening and sweet in front of this little girl he’s still finding his way around interacting with. She pushes the paper towards him, and when he flips it over, he finds four disproportionately drawn figures, two tall men, one woman with two lines for hair, and a smaller girl furthest right. He decides then and there he’s going to hang it on the fridge, and wonders when he got so comfortable so as to feel he can make an imprint on their home. Even one so small as paper placed on the fridge with a magnet.

At night, a time that comes with a star-riddled sky, after Lily’s been put to bed and Patrick insisted on washing the dishes leftover from dinner, he finds himself staring at a small family photo on their wall. Art, Tashi, and Lily, clearly younger then, on some sunny patch of grass. He wonders what life would be like had he been there, what their walls would look like if they had traces of him, too. He feels like it’d sully their image. Selfishly, he hopes they wouldn’t mind that hit to their reputation. Maybe he hopes they actively choose to endure it. It’s late now, Tashi and Art’s voices carrying quietly from their bedroom, and he knows he won’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep anymore because he was happy, and he’d become accustomed to only dropping from sheer exhaustion. From a brain shutting down purely because it couldn’t withstand consciousness anymore. He feels like a child awoken from a nightmare when he knocks at their door, blanket draped over his shoulder, twiddling his thumbs, asking if he can sleep in their room. He insists it’s just for the night, they insist they wouldn’t mind if it was for longer than that. He tucks himself between the two of them as carefully as he can, avoiding Tashi’s knee at all costs, though he knows it’s years past being healed. They don’t do anything but touch him, a natural press from lack of space, warm breath to goosebump prickled skin, and he has to force himself not to cry, laugh, moan. He just closes his eyes and lets himself melt. He thinks if he lets his eyes close long enough, melt enough, he’ll fuse into them. Maybe that’s what he needs.

[00valentina-writes00]

ellie with a quiet and nervous reader?

♡♥︎ Ellie with a quiet and nervous girl ♥︎♡

♥︎ Ellie is the type to give you gentle reassurance when you’re feeling nervous, her hand always reaching out to yours in quiet comfort. She knows what it’s like to feel uneasy, and she makes sure you know you’re not alone in that.

♥︎ When you’re anxious around a group of people, Ellie stays close, her presence a calming anchor. Her fingers brush against your back or thigh in little gestures, her way of silently letting you know she’s there for you.

♥︎ She loves to make you laugh, even if it’s with her terrible jokes or pulling silly faces. Seeing you smile, even in the smallest way, is something she treasures.

♥︎ At night, Ellie will hold you in her arms, her chest against your back, her steady breath helping you to fall asleep. She knows how hard it is for you to shut off your mind, so she does everything to make you feel safe.

♥︎ Ellie doesn’t pressure you to speak when you’re not ready, but she’ll softly ask, “Hey, are you okay?” Her tone is always understanding, and she waits patiently for you to open up when you’re ready.

♥︎ She’s always paying attention to how you’re feeling, even if it’s subtle. She’ll notice the way your hands tremble when you’re stressed or the way you pull your hoodie tighter around yourself

♥︎ Ellie always finds small ways to make you feel seen, like writing you little notes on scraps of paper with sweet messages or leaving flowers she’s found outside on your pillow.

♥︎ You two share quiet mornings, drinking coffee in silence while Ellie plays guitar. She never forces conversation, but sometimes, she’ll hum a tune or sing softly to you just to fill the silence with something peaceful.

♥︎ Ellie loves to cuddle, but she’ll always make sure you’re comfortable first. If you need space, she’ll give it to you, but if you need her close, she’s right there, pulling you into her warmth.

♥︎ Ellie doesn’t try to “fix” you. She understands that your nervousness is just a part of who you are, and she’s okay with it. It doesn’t make you any less worthy of love in her eyes.

♥︎ When you’re nervous about something—whether it’s a big test or an event—Ellie’s there beside you, quietly supporting you. She never makes a fuss about it, but she’ll drop a “You’ve got this” when you need it.

♥︎ If you ever start to feel overwhelmed, Ellie won’t hesitate to take you away from the situation. Whether it’s a walk in the woods or just sitting in a quiet corner, she’ll find a way to help you breathe

♥︎ Sometimes, when you get really anxious, Ellie will pull out her music playlist and play calming tunes. She knows it helps soothe your nerves, and she’ll do whatever she can to help you calm down.

♥︎ You’ve caught Ellie staring at you while you’re doing something small, like reading a book or organizing your things. It’s like she’s watching a part of you that she cherishes.

♥︎ Ellie always notices when you’re feeling too much, and when she can, she’ll try to distract you with something silly—maybe a new game or a prank to lighten the mood.

♥︎ There are days when Ellie knows you’ll need her more than others, and those are the days she’s extra sweet, offering a cup of hot chocolate, rubbing your back, or just listening without judgment.

♥︎ When you get caught in your head, Ellie is always there with a soft, “Hey, look at me,” and when you do, she gives you a gentle smile that reminds you it’s okay to slow down.

♥︎ She loves that you’re quiet and thoughtful. It’s a balance to her more impulsive, sometimes loud nature. Ellie doesn’t always need loudness; sometimes, your calm is exactly what she needs.

♥︎ Ellie’s very protective of you, but in a quiet way. She’ll notice when people make you uncomfortable and subtly shift you out of harm’s way, keeping her cool, but always making sure you’re safe.

♥︎ Ellie’s a master at reading your body language—she’ll know when you’re tense before you do, and she’ll always adjust her approach to make you feel at ease, whether it’s talking less or holding you tighter.

♥︎ On the rare days when you’re feeling brave, Ellie encourages you, giving you the smallest boosts of confidence. Her gentle compliments make you feel like maybe you can take on the world.

♥︎ You share little moments where silence speaks louder than words. Ellie understands that sometimes, there’s nothing that needs to be said. She’ll simply hold your hand and sit with you.

♥︎ Ellie doesn’t mind your quiet nature. In fact, she loves it. It’s one of the things that drew her to you, the way you listen so intently and care so deeply

♥︎ If you ever become overwhelmed during an outing, Ellie will be the first to suggest heading home early, knowing it’s better to leave before you get too anxious. She’d never want to push you past your limit.

♥︎ Sometimes, when you’re feeling a little braver, Ellie will make little challenges for you—like walking into a store together or talking to someone for a minute. She’s proud of how hard you work to step outside your comfort zone.

♥︎ Ellie’s the kind of person who takes your nerves seriously. She doesn’t brush them off as “just anxiety” but acknowledges how real they are, always responding with love and care.

♥︎ She loves how you get nervous about the little things, like asking her to hang out with you or talking to new people. It’s cute, and it makes her feel like she gets to be your safe space.

♥︎ Ellie never rushes you. She’s never in a hurry for you to “get over it.” Her patience is constant, and she knows that your feelings deserve time and care to work through.

♥︎ Ellie knows you trust her with your vulnerability, and she cherishes that. There’s nothing more meaningful to her than the way you let her in, even in your quiet, nervous moments.

♥︎ You and Ellie share a sense of calm that comes with knowing you’re both each other’s safe haven. When you’re together, everything just feels a little easier to handle, even when life gets overwhelming.

♥︎ Every time you show Ellie your soft side, she falls a little more in love with you. She thinks you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, and she loves you exactly as you are.

[m00nkissedlover]

Hi! Can you write a Regulus and fem potter! reader raises four year old harry after his parents are killed?

・｡Little Rabbit 🐰

You've ordered: vanilla ice cream! enjoy!

"I'll be the only dream you seek."

post Hogwarts! Regulus Black x fem! Potter! reader | word count: 925 words

Summary: after your four year old nephew comes to you for comfort after a nightmare, regulus questions whether he's still capable of being a father.🐰

Warnings: not really a warning, but reader is james's sister. in this, regulus doesn't become a death eater. no real warnings, basically just domestic fluff!

Note: hi anon! tysm for this request, it was really fun to write! ☺️ i hope i did your request justice and i hope you like this short little drabble :)

The feeling of tiny hands shaking your shoulder broke you out of your dreamlike trace of sleep at what seemed like...5:00 am. You rubbed your eyes, turning on the lamp on your bedside table, your vision slowly adjusting to the dim light and making out the small figure on your bed.

"Harry? Sweetie, what's wrong?" you murmured, your voice groggy with sleep. Harry, your four year old nephew, sat at the edge of your bed. He was clutching a stuffed rabbit plush you had bought him, his bright green eyes wet with tears, a bit of snot dripping from his nose.

"I-I had a nightmare..." the poor boy sobbed, clutching the rabbit closer to his chest. You felt a pang of sadness through your heart, grabbing a tissue from your bedside table and holding it to him nose. He blew his nose into it, sniffling as you wiped his tears with another one.

"Can I sleep with you two tonight?" You obviously couldn't say no, your heart going out to the four year old. It had been 4 years now since he lost his parents and was put under you and Regulus's care. Speaking of Regulus...just where was he?

Oh, that's right, he was sleeping next to you, groggily blinking his eyes as the sound of Harry's sobbing woke him.

"Hey, what happened?" he asked, his voice a little gruff. He scooted over to sit next to you, watching as you pulled Harry into your lap.

"He had a nightmare again." you muttered, holding the small boy to your chest and gently stroking his hair. "Aw, no. Want me to do the thing, bub?" Regulus asked, playfully poking Harry's cheek.

The little boy giggled softly, sniffling and nodding his head. Regulus got out of bed and padded over to the closet, rummaging through it and pulling out his wand. He closed his eyes for a moment, walking back over to the bed and taking Harry's rabbit plush. He set it down on the bed, raising his want and muttering a spell he'd used countless times before.

Upon casting the spell, the little rabbit plush seemed to come to life, lifting its head and wiggling its ears. Regulus pointed to Harry, the rabbit facing the little boy before it started to do a silly little dance.

"Look, Harry! He's doing a different one this time." you hummed, Harry's crying subsiding. He clapped his tiny hands, a laugh that could put a smile on anyone's face leaving him. Regulus waved his wand once again and the rabbit plush walked up you Harry, crawling up his body and giving him a hug, its face in the crook of his neck.

"Aw, how sweet." you sighed, glancing from the heartwarming scene to your husband who was making his way back into bed. "Feeling better, Harry?" Regulus asked, Harry nodding his head a squeezing the rabbit.

"Thank you, papa Regulus." Regulus felt a surge of warmth run through him at the sound of Harry calling him "papa." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the boy's cheek, ruffling his hair.

"You're welcome, bud. Now come on. It's time to get some sleep."

Harry was now curled up between the two of you, rabbit plush clutched to his chest. He looked so peaceful as he slept, like he didn't have a care in the world (which he probably didn't). You gently caressed his cheek, glancing over at Regulus who seemed to still be hung up on Harry calling him "papa."

You reached out and squeezed his hand, his attention now turning to you. "James...He would be beyond proud of you for stepping up and taking care of his son. I swear on Merlin's name that James and Lily are smiling down on you right now."

Regulus let out a sigh, squeezing your hand in return. "I know, I just...I don't want it to look like I'm trying to replace him, you know? He was a really great friend and an amazing person, I-"

You cut Regulus off by leaning over and pressing a kiss to lips, just a small one. The two of you carefully moved and got out of bed as to not disturb Harry as he slept. You walked out into the hallway of your cozy cottage, cupping Regulus's face in your hands. "Reg, no one thinks you're replacing James. Just think about it; if we had a child and something, god forbid, happened to us, do you think James and Lily would do the same for us? Absolutely, in a heartbeat." you said, resting your forehead against his.

"He loved you, Reg. He probably trusted you more than any of the others. I know that if he could, he could tell you take care of Harry." Your words stirred something within Regulus, the dark haired male's eyes getting watery.

You wrapped your arms around him, his own arms immediately returning the hug. "He'd think I'm a good father to his son?" you heard him mumble, his voice cracking a bit.

"He'd think you're a wonderful father to his son." you reassured him, rubbing his back and stroking his hair.

After a while, you two made your way back into the bedroom, getting into bed and laying back. You pressed a soft kiss to Harry's head, Regulus doing the same before giving you a quick kiss.

"Good night." he whispered, intertwining your fingers underneath the duvet.

"Good night." You squeezed his hand back, smiling to yourself as your head hit your pillow and sleep finally took over.🐰

© m00nkissedlover, 2025

[gold-onthe-inside]

debriefing

v. def. the systematic questioning of individuals to procure information to answer specific collection requirements by direct and indirect questioning techniques.

who? spencer reid (s7) x analyst!reader summary: the one where you finally confront the thing between you and spencer content warnings: none word count: 2.5k

You couldn’t sleep, restlessly turning in bed as flashes of Spencer torment you - vaguely remembering his hand on your ankle as he slid your heels off, kneeling in front of you with his hands grasping yours, his firm grip on your arm, his hand on your lower back, guiding you downstairs. “The team knows that my priority is you.”

You feel like a teenager trying to decipher whether a boy likes you. More importantly, you have to go back to work in 5 hours, and if he doesn’t like you the way you think he does, then there’s no point losing sleep over it. A wave of frustration washes over you, stuffing a pillow in your face as if that could remove the imprint Spencer’s made on your brain.

The pillow falls to the side, leaving you staring at the ceiling with a desire to kill or kiss Spencer, and since neither of those were options to you, you did the next best thing. You knocked on the partition between Penelope’s room and the living room. She had dragged you through Lord knew how many thrift stores and flea markets to put together this magical room that was a cross between Turkish royalty and California in the 60s. The woman, your best friend, bless her heart, woke up with a slight grumble, pushing the unicorn kitty eye mask up (apparently it reduced dark circles, and seeing as she didn’t have any while you were left to suffer, it must work) to attend to your distress.

“Honey, it’s 2 in the morning, can we talk about this in daylight?” Penelope asked, her saccharine voice a soft rumble in her sleep.

“It’s about Reid,” you said, hearing how pathetic you sounded, standing on the step to the raised platform that led to her bedroom. But it seemed to perk her up, and she got up faster than you’ve ever seen her wake in the 10 years you’ve known her.

“I’ll put on a pot of tea,” she announced, moving to the kitchen.

“I-I don’t need tea,” you said uselessly to the whirlwind you called your roommate, trudging across the floor to the kitchen.

“Do you even remember the last time you came to me with boy problems?” Penelope asked you, grabbing her teapot and dropping bags of masala chai in it before setting it to boil on the stove while you parse through your memory, coming up empty. “That’s right. Never. Not once in the entire history of our friendship have you ever come to me about a boy,” Penelope continued and you sink into a seat on the bar stool.

“Because there’s never been anyone worth talking about,” you replied, rubbing your face. “God, how did I let this happen?”

“Let what happen?” Penelope asked, sitting next to you.

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “I don’t lose sleep over guys, and it’s like Spencer just… snuck up on me and now he just lives in my brain or something.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Yes, it’s horrible and embarrassing and—”

“You really like him,” Penelope finished for you, watching your hands fall to the kitchen island.

“I really like him,” you admitted, letting out a disgruntled sigh as you dropped your head into your hands.

“Sweetie, it’s okay,” Penelope assured you, trying not to laugh as she rubbed your back. “And for what it’s worth, he’s a really good guy. A little nuts, but a really good guy.”

“He’s not nuts,” you muttered and Penelope really wants to laugh. The idea of you defending a boy from Penelope’s words was such a far stretch from who you were as a person…

“He also really likes you,” Penelope told you, tilting her head to try and find your eyes. “Seriously, he was hounding me the other day asking if you were into that Jack Ryan-esque new guy or not.”

“He was hounding you?” you asked, looking up with a skeptical brow.

“As in took up residence in my office until I gave it up,” Penelope clarified and you sighed, rubbing the back of your neck as the teapot whistled. You watched as Penelope poured you a cup of tea with a little milk, just the way you like it.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” you asked, taking the cup and slowly spinning it as you waited for it to cool. “I don’t want to have to avoid him forever. Or put you in a weird position with me and him.”

“What if it does work out and you fall in love and have adorable genius babies?” Penelope countered, making you furrow your brow.

“That sounds so much scarier,” you muttered and she sighed.

“Look, sweetie, as much as it pains me to admit it, he makes you the happiest I’ve ever seen you,” Penelope told you. “Seriously, I have video footage.”

“Delete it,” you tell her immediately, putting on your most serious face, but after 10 years, she’s grown immune.

“You’ll never find it,” she sings, sipping her tea. You suck your cheek in, staring at your tea.

“So… what, I just… tell him?” you asked and you looked so clueless that Penelope had to giggle just a little. “Don’t laugh.”

“I swear to God, you two are so meant for each other, it’s written in the stars,” Penelope said, laughing. “Yes, baby doll, you tell him. Because Lord knows he’s not gonna tell you. He’s been dancing around his feelings so long, he could be Kevin Bacon in Footloose.”

“But I don’t want to,” you protested childishly. “Can’t I just ignore it?”

“Not if you want to sleep at night,” Penelope said, tucking a stray hair behind your ear and you pursed your lips.

“I hate this.”

“Yeah, that’s what being in love is,” she replied. “Welcome, it sucks.” You hummed, disgruntled, and sipped your tea.

You’re close to clocking out for the day when Penelope’s heels clack against linoleum, rapidly approaching your cubicle. “The time is now,” she hissed and you frowned immediately, pressing the back of your hand to her temple.

“Are you okay?” you asked and Penelope shook her head.

“Morgan’s setting Reid up on a double date, I couldn’t talk him out of it,” Penelope said rapidly.

“Wait, what?” you asked and Penelope growled in frustration, pulling you out of your desk and towards the elevators.

“You remember the blonde girl who worked with us last year, her father was a serial killer, she transferred to Swann’s unit? Ashley?”

“Yeah,” you said hesitantly. You’d helped Penelope bake cupcakes for Ashley’s graduation from the Academy — and swatted Kevin when he tried to swipe more than he was given.

“Yeah, well, Morgan’s got a date to this Hitchcock Festival, and he wanted to make it a double date—”

“Why? Double dates suck,” you interrupted, completely missing the point and Penelope shook your shoulder.

“Do you hear the words coming out of my mouth? Spencer is going on a date and it’s not with you.”

Passers-by look at the two of you strangely before walking off and you pressed the button to the lift in an attempt to look normal.

“So what?” you asked half-heartedly. “I’m sure Ashley’s a great person.”

Penelope looked like she wanted to pry open the lift doors and throw you down the shaft. “Her father is the Redmond Ripper, is that what you want for Spencer? For his future father-in-law to be a serial killer?” she demanded, the last few words coming out as a hiss and your lips part. Words, you remind yourself.

“It wouldn’t go that far,” you said, sounding weak even to yourself as you both step inside the lift.

“You don’t know that,” Penelope retorted. “Maybe they go on one date, maybe two. Next thing you know, he’s asking Charles Beauchamp for his daughter’s hand in marriage.”

You’ve just been following Penelope’s lead, and it doesn’t strike you that you’re headed to the BAU until the lift opens again and you’re standing face to face with half the team. Spencer’s brow furrowed as he recognised you, JJ glancing at Penelope curiously and Derek grinning at the both of you.

“Hey, what are you doing up here?” Derek asked, with a lot more charm and casualness than Spencer could have mustered.

There’s a shove from behind you, Penelope pushing you out as she chirped. “She wants to talk to you,” she said, ambivalent to your horrified expression as she pointed at Spencer.

“Me?” he asked, meek and slightly alarmed, going through every interaction of the past 7 years to check if he’d done something wrong. Derek and JJ shared a glance, with every intention to stay and listen, until Penelope pulled them both inside the lift.

“Bye!” she chirped, immune to your glare, waving as the lift closed. You stared at the lift, your escape route disappearing before your eyes, Spencer’s glued to you. His fingers drummed on the belt of his satchel, lips pursed in anticipation, heart hammering in his chest as you take a breath and look at him. Of course he had to wear purple today.

“Um… Penelope said you were going on a date,” you started slowly, hands sliding into your pockets despite your sweaty palms.

“Yeah, Morgan kind of roped me into it,” Spencer said, his expression turning pained. “We had this practical joke war and the truce agreement means I have to go on a double date with him. It’s a… whole thing, what did you want to talk about?”

You sucked your cheek in, a telltale sign that something was making you anxious. “So… you don’t want to go on the date?” you asked, tentative and Spencer furrowed his brow.

“Not… enthusiastically, but Seaver’s- I mean, Ashley’s nice, so…”

“But you don’t like her,” you reasoned slowly, gauging his responses so analytically that you could have your own desk here.

“I don’t not like her?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling more and more as the conversation went on.

“Right,” you said quietly, having run out of questions. “Cool, so… I’m gonna go. Have fun on your… date?”

He’s never seen you this unsettled, this flustered, especially around him, and cute as it is, it worried him, his hand reaching out to nudge your elbow before you could run off. “Are you okay?” he asked, deeply concerned.

“Yeah, no, Penelope’s just… um…” You closed your eyes, took a breath, and internally went, Fuck it. “If you don’t like her, don’t go,” you said, looking at him again. Bad decision. You really want to kiss him.

“Okay… But I kind of already agreed to go,” Spencer said, shifting where he stood nervously.

“I… I don’t want you to go,” you said, hoping he would extrapolate the meaning, but of course he doesn’t. He just narrows his eyes in confusion.

“You don’t—”

“I’m asking you not to go,” you insisted, your heart in your throat. You might actually cry if he goes anyway. A beat passed, Spencer just looking into your pleading eyes.

“Okay,” he said eventually, moving to press the lift button, and it’s your turn to frown.

“Okay? That’s it? I asked you not to go and you’re not going?”

“Pretty much,” he replied casually, moving to call up the lift. “Besides, Hitchcock movies don’t really have the same appeal after you know who the murderer is. I mean, it’s nice to appreciate the cinematography of the whole thing, but once you know who the killer in Psycho is, there’s only so many times you can rewatch it before it becomes predictable. Now, if it was something like a novel, that’s a different story, because literature can be interpreted so many ways, and Arthur Conan Doyle still appeals after the third or fourth time you read—”

“You’re not going?” you repeated, standing there, completely struck by him and he looked at you, as though puzzled that you were still stuck on it.

“You told me not to,” he said, concerned again. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His hand flitted up to press against your temple and you freezed, his hand drifting down to your neck to check your pulse, which fluttered when he touched it.

“Why would you just… I mean, how can you just listen to me like that?” you managed to ask and he dropped his hand, slightly amused.

“You’re impossible, you know that,” he said, the lift opening and he waited for you to get in first, his arm keeping it open. “I mean, I don’t listen to you, you argue with me. I listen to you, and you’re still arguing with me. Is there any way to win with you?”

You ignored the easy avenue into a catfight, still looking at him. “She could be the love of your life and you’re just not gonna go because I—”

“She’s not,” he said, his voice plain and firm. “Will you get in so I don’t have to hold this forever?”

“You don’t know that she’s not,” you continued, frowning at him. “She could be the woman you spend your life with—”

“She’s not,” he said again, just as firmly as before. Fact. Not opinion. Not doubt. He looked at you intently, your throat moving as you swallow, not that there’s anything there with your mouth completely dried out.

She’s not the love of his life.

The team knows that my priority is you.

Whatever happens next, I am here. I won’t leave, not unless you ask me to.

You have people. Even if you can’t see them.

How many times had he told you how he felt without saying it? “I’m such an idiot,” you murmured, shaking your head. “I have no business calling myself an intelligence analyst when you…” He frowned at you as you trailed off, still holding the stupid lift open. Penelope was right. All along, she was right. You crossed the foot between the two of you. “Spencer Reid, will you go out with me?” you asked, your voice calm, finally finding yourself on even footing with him. “Properly, I mean. On a date.” No more cryptic codes to decipher, no more dancing around each other. Everything had been decoded, deciphered, plain to see.

“I…” He blinked at you in surprise. “Really?” he asked, almost in disbelief, then checked down the hall like someone was watching him.

“Not a practical joke, I promise,” you said, your heart settling back in your chest. “We could get a drink, see a movie, I couldn’t care less what we do, I just… Spencer, I like you. A lot. And if you don’t want to, which, I mean, fair enough, your call, but—”

He crosses whatever gap is left between the two of you, pressing his lips to yours and grasping your jaw and your hands emerge from your pockets, holding his waist as he takes your breath away. His fingers threaded into your hair, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world, and you kissed him back, pulling away only when your lungs ached for air. His eyes are bright and dilated when he looked down at you, lights glittering in his clear gaze. “I want to,” he murmured, a slight rasp. “Very much.”

[moonselune]

hiya!!

could u write for that prompt u already did, with muscular woman tav, wearing a wavemother robe, but with Jaheira, Karlach, and Shadowheart? Thanks!

yesssssssssssssssss this was so fun to write!

Karlach:

You take a deep breath, smoothing your hands over the silken fabric of the Wavemother’s Robe, feeling a little ridiculous. The garment is light, flowing, and drapes over your frame in a way that feels almost foreign. You’ve never worn something so delicate before—so soft, so utterly not made for someone like you.

You glance at yourself in the small mirror shard you keep in your tent. The robe barely reaches past your knees, and with your broad shoulders and powerful frame, it seems like it should be out of place on you. Yet… it isn't ugly. Just different.

Still, you can’t shake the nagging thought in the back of your head—what if it looks wrong? What if Karlach sees you and—

You shake the thought away and step out of your tent. The second you do, Karlach freezes. You blink at her, confused. She was mid-step, having clearly been about to approach, but now she just stands there, staring. Her mouth is slightly open, her golden eyes locked onto you like a predator that’s just spotted prey.

And then, steam—actual, literal steam—starts rising off of her skin.

“Karlach?” you ask, feeling more self-conscious than before. “You okay?”

She makes a small, strangled noise in the back of her throat.

You frown. “Do I look stupid?”

"Stupid?" Karlach finally manages to choke out, blinking rapidly like she’s trying to reboot her entire system.

Her hands are twitching at her sides, fingers flexing like she can’t decide whether she wants to reach out and touch you or just explode where she stands.

“You—you absolute goddess.” Karlach breathes the words out in pure reverence, eyes raking over you so intensely that you actually feel hot under her gaze. "How—what—fuck.”

Your brow furrows. “You like it?”

Karlach laughs. It’s a breathless, wild thing, like she can't believe you even asked. “Like it? Babe, I am fighting for my life right now.”

You blink. “…What?”

“Do you—do you even know what you look like right now?” Karlach gestures wildly at you, practically vibrating. “You're a foot taller than me, built like a gods-damned mountain, wearing that.” She swallows hard. “Do you have any idea what that’s doing to me?”

You stare at her. Then glance down at yourself. Then back at her.

“…No?”

Karlach makes another strangled sound. Then, before you can react, she lunges. You barely have a moment to brace yourself before you’re body-tackled back into your tent, landing on your back with an "oof!"

Karlach is already crawling over you, her hands hot against your skin as she yanks at the silken fabric, her breathing ragged.

“I—I should—I should help you take this off,” she stammers, but her hands are moving before she even finishes the sentence.

You let out a stunned laugh. “That desperate, huh?”

Karlach growls, low in her throat. “Babe, I am about to combust.”

She isn’t lying—there’s actual heat radiating from her, and her engine is whining with the strain of keeping it together.

You smirk up at her, reaching up to cup her flushed face, fingers brushing over the cooling vents on her cheeks. "Guess that means I should wear this more often, huh?"

Karlach groans. "Please don’t, I will literally die."

You laugh, only for her to kiss you so fiercely that all your thoughts vanish in a haze of heat, silk, and strong hands pulling you closer.

Shadowheart:

You take a deep breath, adjusting the Wavemother’s Robe as it drapes over your body. The fabric is soft, flowing in a way that feels foreign against your battle-worn skin. It barely reaches past your knees, and the loose, delicate sleeves do nothing to hide the sheer power of your arms. You feel wrong in it—too big, too solid, too much of everything this robe wasn't made for.

With a sigh, you step out of your tent, bracing yourself for whatever reaction you’re about to get. You don’t expect to find Shadowheart completely frozen in place.

She stands a few feet away, lips slightly parted, silver eyes wide as they slowly drag down your body and then back up again, as if she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing.

“…Shadowheart?” you say, feeling even more self-conscious.

No response.

You shift your weight slightly, watching her, and that’s when you notice—her hands are clenched into fists at her sides, white-knuckled. Her jaw has gone slack. And her knees—her knees are actually, visibly weak.

You narrow your eyes. “Are you okay?”

She finally seems to snap back to reality—only she doesn’t look at your face. No, her gaze is locked firmly lower, just slightly south of where your collarbone dips beneath the robe’s neckline.

You follow her line of sight. Then, after a pause, you slowly cross your arms over your chest. Shadowheart’s lips press together, her eyes still glued downward. You snap your fingers in front of her face.

She flinches, blinking rapidly, as if being pulled from some sort of trance. “I—uh—”

You raise an eyebrow. “Were you staring at my chest this entire time?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Shadowheart—normally so composed, so controlled—actually flushes, a deep pink creeping up her pale cheeks. “No.”

You deadpan. “You absolutely were.”

Shadowheart clears her throat, straightening her posture in a pathetic attempt to regain dignity. “I was simply… admiring the craftsmanship of the robe.”

You narrow your eyes. “Uh-huh. The craftsmanship.”

She clears her throat again, glancing away. “Yes. The, uh… stitching is very fine.”

You take a slow step toward her, watching as her pupils dilate slightly. “You’re still staring.”

Shadowheart swallows, her voice quieter now. “Can you blame me?”

You smirk, amused by her rare flustered state. “I could if you were being a little less obvious about it.”

Shadowheart exhales sharply, her hands twitching at her sides as if she desperately wants to touch but is restraining herself. Then, after a pause, she exhales and looks up at you with something unreadable in her expression—an almost challenging glint.

“Perhaps I should be punished for my bad manners,” she murmurs, voice deceptively soft. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

You feel your smirk widen, a slow heat curling in your chest. “Oh? Is that so?”

Shadowheart tilts her head slightly, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “I am but a humble servant of Shar, after all. I do enjoy a little… discipline.”

Your stomach flips, and suddenly, the insecurity you had felt earlier is a distant memory. Shadowheart isn’t just attracted to you—she’s weak for you.

And, well… maybe you can use that to your advantage.

Jaheira:

The Wavemother’s Robe feels wrong from the moment you put it on.

It’s soft, flowing, and light—too light. The way it drapes over your broad shoulders and cinches at your waist feels alien, unnatural. You tug at the fabric, scowling, adjusting the way it falls over your muscular frame, but it doesn’t help. You are a warrior. You’re built to cleave through enemies, to stand tall on the battlefield, to strike fear into those who would dare cross you. Not to wear something that makes you look like a damn priestess.

You glance at yourself in the mirror—well, as much of your reflection as you can see in the dull metal of your weapon. You could be intimidating in this, you suppose. It still shows the power in your arms, the strength in your stance. You could be some ancient warrior-goddess, draped in divinity, untouchable and terrible in your beauty.

…Or you could look ridiculous.

You exhale, shaking your head. This was a mistake. You should just take it off before anyone sees—

“Are you coming out, or are you just going to hide in there all night?”

Jaheira. You freeze, eyes widening slightly before you curse under your breath. There’s no escaping this now. Steeling yourself, you push open the flap of your tent and step out.

And Jaheira stops dead in her tracks. She had been approaching with her usual effortless confidence, arms crossed, brow raised, ready to tease you about how long you’d taken. But now?

Now she just stares.

Her mouth parts slightly, but no sound comes out. Her sharp green eyes drag over your form—slowly, like she’s cataloging every inch of you, every detail. She’s standing stiffly, her jaw tight, her fingers twitching at her sides.

You hesitate. “…Jaheira?”

Nothing. Not even a blink. She is utterly, completely frozen.

You shift, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “You’re staring.”

At that, Jaheira blinks—like she’s just remembered how to function—and immediately scowls. “I—what—no, I am not.”

You smirk. “You absolutely are.”

“I am merely—” she cuts herself off, clears her throat, then attempts again. “—merely assessing your choice in attire.”

“Uh-huh.” You tilt your head, stepping closer. “And?”

Jaheira opens her mouth, then closes it. Her lips press into a firm, thin line, like she’s physically forcing herself not to say something she’ll regret. But then—gods help her—her gaze dips again, and you can see her willpower crumbling before your eyes.

A faint flush creeps up her neck.

You raise an eyebrow. “Jaheira… are you flustered?”

Her eyes narrow. “Of course not.”

You step closer, watching as her shoulders stiffen, watching as her gaze flickers—just briefly—to the way your muscles flex beneath the fabric.

She inhales sharply through her nose.

You let out a low, satisfied chuckle. “Oh, this is fantastic.”

Jaheira groans, pinching the bridge of her nose as if physically pained. “Do not make me regret ever looking at you.”

You smirk. “A little late for that, isn’t it?”

She exhales, long and suffering, but now she refuses to meet your eyes—her pride won’t let her. Instead, she folds her arms behind her back, straightens her spine, and in the most dignified voice she can muster, says, “Well. I suppose you look… decent.”

Your grin widens. “Decent?”

She scowls. “Acceptable.”

You step even closer, lowering your voice. “Jaheira.”

She glares at you, and yet her ears have turned red. “Fine,” she snaps. “You look devastating. Now get away from me before I embarrass myself further.”

You laugh, throwing an arm around her shoulders despite her protests. “You already embarrassed yourself, my love.”

Jaheira groans into her hands, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans into you just the slightest bit. And if you catch her sneaking another glance at you later that night—well, you’ll let her have that small victory.

hehehe I love writing my simpy horny girls. Also idek what I was on complaining that the Lucille font had changed, clearly my mac was just having a moment. Anyway hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[hy6erion]

can you write about the love languages with omar? thankss

𝐎𝐦𝐚𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬

Omar Marmoush is the kind of guy who loves intensely but expresses it in ways that feel effortless, like he was made to love this way. He isn’t the type to declare his love in loud, exaggerated gestures—his way of showing it is more natural, woven into the everyday moments. He loves like a quiet storm, steady and undeniable.

1. Acts of Service - ,,I got it, don’t worry”

Omar is always paying attention. He doesn’t need to be asked twice—hell, he doesn’t need to be asked at all. If he sees you struggling with something, he’s already on his feet, handling it.

“Stay there,” he says when he catches you trying to carry something heavy. “I’ll do it.”

“You’re busy, don’t worry about dinner. I’ll pick something up on the way.”

“Give me your car keys. I’ll fill up your tank before we leave.”

At first, you think it’s just casual helpfulness, but then you start to notice the pattern. He’s always the one adjusting your chair at the table before you sit. Always remembering the little things—how you like your coffee, what side of the bed you sleep on, how you always forget to charge your phone at night, so he plugs it in for you.

One evening, you’re exhausted from a long day, sprawled on the couch, barely moving. He doesn’t say anything, just disappears for a bit. When he returns, he’s got your favorite snacks and a hoodie he knows you love wearing.

“You didn’t even ask me what I wanted,” you say, teasing.

Omar just shrugs, sitting beside you and pulling you into him. “Didn’t have to. I already knew.”

2. Physical Touch – “Come here.”

Omar isn’t overly clingy in public—he’s got that effortless confidence about him—but in private? He touches you like he needs it to breathe.

When he walks past you in the kitchen, his fingers trail against your waist. When you’re sitting together, his hand is always on your thigh or resting on the back of your neck. And when you’re standing close? His arms just naturally find their way around you.

But his favorite? He loves pulling you into his lap, especially when you’re not expecting it.

“You good?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss against your temple.

You nod, resting your head against his chest.

“Yeah?” He tightens his arms around you slightly. “I don’t believe you.”

There’s something about the way he holds you that makes everything feel lighter, like the weight of the world doesn’t exist when you’re with him. And if he ever catches you upset? He won’t say much—just tugs you into his arms and stays there until he feels your body relax against him.

3. Quality Time – “Just stay.”

Omar doesn’t need extravagant dates or constant plans. He just wants time. Time with you, uninterrupted.

You could be sitting in complete silence, both of you on your phones, or him watching something while you’re reading, and it still feels like the most intimate thing in the world. He likes being in your space, even if you’re doing nothing at all.

One night, you’re about to leave after spending the day together, and he frowns.

“Where are you going?”

“Home?” you laugh, pointing at the door.

He shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, standing up and taking your wrist, gently tugging you toward the couch. “Stay.”

“Omar—”

“Please,” he says, softer this time, his fingers brushing against your palm.

And just like that, you’re staying. Because when he says it like that, there’s no arguing.

He’s the kind of guy who would rather have a quiet night in with you than anything else. Whether it’s watching a match, sitting on the balcony with tea, or just lying in bed talking about nothing—he doesn’t care as long as you’re there.

4. Words of Affirmation – “You know I mean it, right?”

Omar isn’t the type to overdo it with words, but when he says something, he means it. He has this way of saying things so casually, like it’s just a fact of life.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs absentmindedly, not even looking up from his phone.

“You’re really smart, you know that?” he says after you explain something to him.

“You’re gonna do amazing,” he tells you before a big event, no hesitation in his voice.

And if you ever doubt yourself? That’s when he gets serious.

“You don’t see yourself the way I do,” he says one night, his voice firm but soft. “If you did, you wouldn’t question it.”

And it’s not just compliments—he’s always making sure you know exactly where he stands.

“You know I love you, yeah?” he asks one night, out of nowhere.

You smile. “Of course.”

He nods, satisfied. “Good. Just making sure.”

5. Gift Giving – “I saw this and thought of you.”

Omar isn’t flashy about gifts. He doesn’t buy things just for the sake of it—everything he gives has a reason.

It could be small, like a coffee from your favorite place or a book he remembers you mentioning once in passing. He pays attention, and it shows.

One day, he casually hands you a scarf.

“I don’t remember saying I wanted this,” you say, confused.

“You didn’t,” he replies. “But you get cold easily, and this one’s really soft.”

You just stare at him. “Omar.”

“What?” he shrugs, a small smirk on his lips. “It’s not a big deal.”

But it is, because it’s always the little things with him. The thought behind it.

And when it comes to special occasions? He doesn’t just buy gifts—he plans them. He remembers things, like the concert tickets you wanted months ago or the pair of earrings you mentioned once and never brought up again.

But his favorite gift to give? Jerseys. Specifically, his own.

“Here,” he says one day, tossing one at you.

You catch it, confused. “What’s this?”

“My jersey.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, I see that. But why—”

He gives you a look. “Because I want you to wear it.”

There’s no argument after that.