#this girl is always bringing her boyfriend without asking to sleep

[81pastrys]

Mini Bwoah

Part 10 / 10

Summary— Maiden win blues and drinks, allowing a certain word to slip from her mouth

Warnings— unintentional bad parenting ; drinking ; dunk words mean sober thoughts

A/N— so about that

Series List

Divider @bernardsbendystraws

We get to my trailer and the rest of the team with us dispersed to other parts of the paddock. Cameras died out once we got into the taxis.

“Are you okay my love?” He asked, moving my hair behind my fireproof shirt. “You seem down.”

“All the interviews got to me.” I laugh nervously.

“I understand that, but you never act this way after.” He said.

“I never realized how my dad always shut me out as a kid.” I say. “I realized today in the podium interviews.”

“Shut you out?”

“He never celebrated wins with me, never really talked about the goods of racing.” I explain. “He only gave me tips on how to cope with losing.”

“I don’t think that was his intention love.”

“No, but it makes me feel like he never thought I’d ever win..”

Lando sighs and pulls me in for a hug. “All will be okay, if he did think that- you’ve proved him wrong.”

“Maybe I’m thinking too far ahead.” I say. “Now are we going to party tonight…?”

“There’s my girl.” He smiled. “Did you bring party clothes?”

“Maybe a little something.” I say suspicious.

“Hmmm let’s see it then.” He winked.

“How much time do we have before the group chat wonders where we are?” I ask.

“As much time as you want love.” He said. “It’s your win, and your celebration.” He kissed my head after his sentence and I go to my room and change.

The party was crazy fun. Drinks after drinks and shots after shots. I end up dancing on a table and Lando rushes over to me. He picks me up off the table and sets me back on the solid ground.

“Love, I can see everything, especially without your panties present.” He whispers in my ear. As drunk as I am, I giggle. “You’re too far gone huh?” He smiles.

“Maybe, not far gone enough to know I want you in my bed tonight.” I bite my lip and he laughs.

“We’ll see about that love, but no more tables or drinks.” He said. I fake pout at him and he leaves me be. At the end of the night he brings me home, drunk and rambling.

“I’m so lucky I have you.” I ramble. “Such an amazing boyfriend.” The giggles were a staple to my drunk state.

“Boyfriend huh?” He asked. “I’m going to forget you said that and ask you out tomorrow.”

“Forget what?” I ask forgetting my god damn self from how drunk I am.

Lando puts me to bed and the next morning is hell. “Good morning Miss asked me out drunk.” He said, his voice groggy from sleep.

“Isn’t that your job?” I ask.

“Well you asked me, but now I’m asking you to be my girlfriend.” He said, landing a kiss on my lips. “Formula 1 winner.” He smiled.

“Next Formula 1 champion at that.” I giggle.

Formula 1 champion I wasn’t, but it’s okay. Lando won instead, along with asking me to marry him on the podium of all places…

How are we feeling?

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @anayaverse @pandabiiissh @kallanfiona @itznotsophia @justaf1girl

[heron-iles]

If you are going to share a flat with someone pls don't be loud at night, specially if you know that your bed is only separated of my bed by a wall

[personapeters]

✰ 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭-𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

— frat boyfriend rafe if he turned to college instead of crime (lol)

rating: sfw — cw: a little suggestive, language

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… during the day wears his regular rich boy attire: a polo, fitted shorts, and sneakers worth more than a semesters tuition. after hours, you’ll find him casually dressed in a university branded tee that hugged his biceps oh-so perfectly, gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips and a backwards snapback that held his long hair out of his face — perfection.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… is supposed to wear glasses but rarely does, saying they make him look like ‘a fucking geek’. eventually, he became comfortable enough to wear them around you and only you in the privacy of your dorm, and you’d tease him about how he’s the hottest ‘geek’ you’ve ever seen.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… never lets you walk back to your dorm alone, no matter the time or circumstance. whether it be broad daylight or the middle of the night, he makes zero exceptions — he’s seen the way some of the guys interacted with the girls on campus and he’ll burn the place down before it happens to you.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… isn’t really fond of coffee unless its fully black, but occasionally brings you your favorite cream filled and sugar loaded latte when you have an early morning class, loving how much sweeter it makes your mouth taste.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… begrudgingly walks (practically drags) your drunk friends back to their dorms whenever you ask him to, though he couldn’t care less how they got home. as terrible as it sounds, he only does it for you.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… enjoys to show you off to his frat brothers but simultaneously hates when they look at you. it didn’t make sense, and he was well aware of that, but it’s true — in a ‘look how hot my girl is’ yet a ‘she’s mine, don’t look at her’ way.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… met you at the campus library, as cliche as it is. he was only there to make quick deal outside, but when he spotted you through a window as your fingers grazed the spines of the books on the shelf, he knew he had to go inside.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… loves when you wear his university branded t-shirts and hoodies, loving how they swallow you whole as your sleeping gowns or when you roll them up, paired with leggings: “fuck, keep that one — looks so fuckin’ good on you.”

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… insists on covering any and every cost that your scholarships don’t and more; books, supplies, dorm furniture, food, clothes, gas, fees, whatever. of course, you were bewildered as to how a college student had enough money to fund someone else’s life, let alone their own, but once you learned the entirety of his lengthy backstory, it all made plenty of sense.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… has gotten into his fair share of fights over you, feeling it’s mandatory that everyone on campus knows who’s girl you are and what happens when they challenge that. let it be a suggestive comment or a lingering touch, rafe’s always quick to set shit straight. typically, that type of behavior would result in expulsion, but with the cameron family’s high status and money, rafe was never actually punished for anything.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… only made it into the same university as you due to his wealth. sure, he was smart but wouldn’t have made it in without his monetary advantage. he’d often get angry and frustrated whenever doing work he simply couldn’t master, but you were like his personal tutor, reassuring him that he can, he just needs to take the time and study (with your help, of course).

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… has your schedule memorized, often casually leaning outside of your classroom with his arms crossed over his chest as he waits for you to emerge so he can shamelessly perform some p.d.a. before escorting you to your next location.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… once brought you to visit his home town on a break, the outer banks, taking you to all of his favorite spots and, hesitantly, introducing you to his close friends and family. he even explained the whole ‘pogues vs kooks’ thing, emphasizing his distaste for the latter — you honestly thought it was insane: “y’know… if i grew up here, i’d’ve been a ‘pogue’, too,” you reasoned. “yeah, well, you didn’t,” he stated stoically.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… only went to college with the plan to build his credentials, promising his father he’d soon join in on running the family business. his father was impressed to hear that, saying, “really? wow… m’proud of you, son,” hugging him firmly in a way he seldom did; all rafe’s ever wanted was to be loved and accepted by his dad, and this was his way to do it.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… is very aware of and annoyed by how other girls throw themselves at him during parties or in the halls — instead of it fueling his ego, it only angers him because he knows they can see you standing right next to him: “swear the bitch is fuckin’ stupid… like she doesn’t see my hand on your ass.”

 personapeters 2024 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[itzpookiepooh]

Dump Him!

You ask them for relationship advice

“I need advice.” You huff falling onto the couch where Caleb sat. Your head was in his lap as you pout, he looks down at you in confusion. He adjusts his position taking his ankle off his knee.

“Shoot pipsqueak I’m all ears.” He assures you making you take a deep breath. This was like a mini therapy session you guys had every once in a while. Too often for you not often enough for him.

“So he’s always running to help his best friend and I mean running. She called him to stay at her house because she’s going through a break up.” You explained as Caleb nodded slowly. He didn’t see the big deal because he always comes running when you call.

“I mean that is his best friend and think of us—“ You cut him off before he could say anything stupid. “The best friend is a girl and he spends the night. No matter what we’re going through he runs to her.”

“You should kill him.” He states bluntly before unpausing his show as if he solved your problem entirely.

“Caleb!”

You just got done arguing with your boyfriend again. Rafayel just watched with a bored expression, he was use to the bickering. He just wished you would dump him already. He watched you pace as you screamed at him which was out of character for you, in his mind at least. You hung up slamming your phone on the counter.

“Ugh! He’s insufferable. What should I do?” You ask more out loud but Rafayel was going to answer anyway.

“What did he do this time?” He asked taking about bite out of a grape from the bowl. You pout putting your chin on your fist. You know Rafayel and you also know he loathes your boyfriend.

“Ditched our date tonight for his friends.” You sigh, Rafayel on the other hand glares at you. He then got an idea.

“You should invite him out here to make up. It’s beautiful and quiet.” Rafayel counts on his fingers before your face fell flat.

“I’m not bringing him out here for you to kill him.” You deadpan making him drop his act and shrug.

“Worth a shot.” He throws a grape into his mouth.

Your leg bounced as you stared at your phone waiting for a text back. Sylus looks over his glasses to watch your leg bounce. You were shaking the couch with these nerves of yours. He couldn’t focus on a single word with all this bouncing. He knew you were arguing with that no good boyfriend of yours. He grabbed your leg without looking away from his book. Your gaze snaps over to him.

“Sorry.” You mumble, Sylus closes the book with a sigh, “What is it now?”

“He’s jealous because I spend a lot of time with you. Which is bullshit by the way! He spends a lot of time with his friends too!” You ramble as you wave your arms around. Sylus just watches you as you express yourself.

“What should I do?” You groan leaning into him. Sylus hums before rubbing your arm.

“We could give him something to be jealous about.” Sylus suggests, his smirk widening as he looks at you.

“You’re never serious.” You deadpan making him chuckle.

“Worth a shot.”

You get in Zayne’s car in a hurry accidentally slamming the door. You were so irritated that the night felt ruined because your boyfriend wanted to argue. He hated whenever Zayne was around but you make sure to remind him this is your childhood friend. His jealousy was ugly and Zayne would tell you constantly. The boy thought you were sleeping together for goodness sake! Not that you would mind. You explained all this to Zayne knowing he’d probably say what he usually does. You were just waiting for it.

“Maybe I can fix him…fix us y’know?” You fall back into the seat as Zayne stops at a red light. He looks over at you with the most serious face ever.

“Did he defecate on himself?” He asks seriously, you blink at him as if he was confused.

“No?” You question more than answer. Zayne hums as he nods his head slowly, “then why would you change him?”

You narrow your eyes at him. He’s as sassy as ever but he was right.

Your boyfriend and you had a huge fight. It was so big that you left and went to Xavier’s who could hear it from his apartment. You apologized for the noise which he didn’t care about. Your wellbeing was what mattered most to him after all. He made you tea and waited to hear what the arguing was about. You explained he accused you of cheating on him which wasn’t true. Xavier knew this since you guys spent so much time together.

“What should I do?” You sigh sadly. Xavier blinked slowly as he gave you a once over.

“Leave him.” He bluntly said. No hesitation, no pauses, nothing.

“Xavier I can’t.” You groan falling into the couch as he takes the cup from you. He places it on the coffee table and then turns his attention back to you.

“Why not? He’s not a good person and has zero redeeming qualities. He chews with his mouth open, he burps obnoxiously loud—” He lists and if you hadn’t stopped him he would go on and on all night. You put your hand over his mouth and nod as you look at the ceiling.

“You’re absolutely right.” Leaving the conversation at that.

“Want me to kill him?” He mumbles looking at you. You swiftly turn your head to look at him with genuine concern. Maybe you heard him wrong.

“What?”

“What?” He repeats now looking at you confused.

I couldn’t wait to get to Zayne’s but imo his Caleb’s and Rafayel’s are the funniest 😭 I also forgot what I was gonna write mid Caleb’s because I left my mind palace (the shower).

Have this while I concoct Sylus’ bday special 💋

[fushigujiro]

boyfriend!onyankopon loves watching you get ready. don’t matter for what, how, if it’s lazy or all out, he just loves watching the process of you getting ready for anything even your temper tantrums because your hair isn’t cooperating or you have nothing to wear (your closet is full as shit). he loves the makeup part the most. he watches intensely from start to finish, just quietly sitting like an obedient boy. he observes your style when you get to the dressing part and just admiring the small details you make to accessorize your outfit. his little fashionista baby (he swears you get the drip from him).

boyfriend!onyankopon just has to touch you. he can’t just not touch he wants to touch you, he needs to touch you. he loves touching you, simple as that. everytime you guys are home he wants you cuddling by him, on him, straddling his lap, to lay his head on your thighs, your chest, your arms- he wants to be in your skin and i’m also going to add that he loves smelling you. he thinks it’s a fetish but to be honest he can’t help it he loves your natural smell and the scent combo you use all the time, makes him wanna lick you…n sometimes he does randomly but you allow it

boyfriend!onyankopon is very intimidating from afar but as you both got closer and he became your man, he’s a big ass softy not only for you but small animals. (he’s a cat lover) you both have a pet kitty at home that he secretly acts like he’s not obsessed but lets kitty sleep with you guys at night, takes her out for errands, and gets her cute clothes. one time, in the middle of the night, 3 of you were in bed and you’re just resting your eyes while he thought you were sleeping and played with kitty on his lap. he was just softly cooing at her and humming until you heard him say “i love you two girls so much” his deep voice professed, softly petting the smaller girl that purred at his touch and love…a little did he know, you did too<3

boyfriend!onyankopon is so freaking sassy it’s actually ridiculous but i’ll get to that part soon. he loves to tease you. he can never go a full day without being “did i annoy her today? i need to do so before the day ends” it’s his mission to annoy or else he wouldn’t think he was an up to par man for you apart from other things that he knows he’s got down..multiple times *wink* but i digress. he teases you, will mock you, bother you, annoy you and it’s very irritating but adoring because it’s him. though, the thing is the second you tease him back he’s like a damn sass man and so childlike which brings me back to the beginning on why i said he’s so damn sassy. muthafucka will stay having his arms crossed, looking everywhere but you, will side eye you, roll his eyes, give attitude that’ll make you be like… “is this me right now? huh??” but if you make it up to him he’s grinning like a cheshire cat…just bad

boyfriend!onyankopon is a very laid back man. he’s very chill. he’s chill about you, he’s not obsessive- crazy obsessive at that, he lets you do you and he’s your personal cheerleader (we love to see it). he will always encourage you to do anything you wanna do but because i said he’s a laid back man doesn’t mean he won’t get protective over you. if a guy bumps into you he won’t hesitate to get in front and confront the man in his face. he doesn’t have to say too much, with how he speaks, his deep almost baritone voice and his low lidded but intense gaze is enough to turn a grown man into a baby and back off scared.

boyfriend!onyankopon loves taking pictures of you. yess he loves living in the moment but then again, he can live in it and remember it when he goes to his photo album that's named 'my pretty girl🤞🏾' and looks at all the pictures and videos he's took of you over the years. baby pictures ‘n videos he got from your family, pictures you asked him to take of you when you dressed up nd felt pretty, funny pictures you both laugh at as well as pictures you'd kill him for because they’re the off guard. you’ll forever see a phone in his, has flash on ( purposely) and will go up in your face, snap it and put it as his wall paper….he loves you so much

boyfriend!onyankopon will let you do anything to him. did I mention baby boy has a whole tattoo sleeve? looks so yummy on his buff arms but I digress for the nth time. he'll let you use washable multi color markers on his tattoos as when you get bored 'cuz you tend to use him as a "experiment" is how he'd put it. if you wanna do his makeup he'll huff and puff but he'll let you do it just so he can hear your pretty laugh and gaze at that beautiful smile. wanna put a soothing face mask on him? he's agreeing. he likes doing these things with you it creates beautiful memories with his girl. he enjoys the mask, the roller, gua sha- even you tweezing his eyebrows. he'll lay back with you straddling him, his big veiny hands rubbing up and down your thick thighs whilst his eyes are closed to just enjoy the moment of you blabbering nonsense with you doing his face and kitty coming on the bed to cuddle by his shoulder....he loves it here and never would dream wanting it to end.

꒰ note ꒱.....it's been 3 years of procrastination + writers block and lord have mercy it's been too long since i've wrote something but my life has been too much since then. after some motivation from my bf and the most help (from my bf<33) i'm back again! i'm open for requests to get more things out andddd just happy to be back<3 (thank you babe for everything)

[brainddeadd]

Thinking about telling sugar daddy scoups that you're pregnant and being terrified about his reaction because that wasn't part of the deal - y'all just fuck so much without a condom that the birth control didn't work.

SugarDaddy!Scoups who knows something is wrong. He knows you were throwing up, and now you're avoiding him.

SugarDaddy!Scoups who shows up at your apartment one day while you're out and waits outside your door for you to come home, despite having a key, cause he's unsure if he's still allowed in your space.

SugarDaddy!Scoups who knows you're shocked to see him, but desperately wants an answer, so he refuses to leave until you tell him what's wrong- what he did and how he can fix it.

SugarDaddy!Scoups who pulls you into him the second the words "I'm pregnant" leave your mouth, his whole body enveloping you and his arms holding you tightly to his chest.

SugarDaddy!Scoups whose heart breaks when you ask, "Are you mad at me?"

"Baby, I'm so fucking happy right now I don't know what to do with myself."

SugarDaddy!Scoups who tells you he's all in, that he wants this, wants the baby, wants you.

SugarDaddy!Scoups who kisses you passionately, breathing you in and holding your body to his before he asks you to be his, for real, forever.

SugarDaddy!Scoups whose over the moon when you tell him that you've always been his.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who takes you to bed that night and worships every inch of your skin, sucking marks onto your chest and stomach, littering bruises over your thighs and filling you up with more cum until you're writhing under him and can't cum anymore.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who makes sure to be at every appointment and class. He reads all the books and does all the research.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who asks you to move in with him so he can keep you and the baby close.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who has the nursery set up and ready to go by the end of your 4th month (he's just really excited, ok?)

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who cries when he finds out he's having a little girl. He breaks down in the appointment, babbling out "thank you" over and over.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who takes paternity leave the second you take maternity leave and refuses to go back until you give him the ok.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who sits behind you and holds you close to his chest, feeding you ice chips, while you give birth to his little princess.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who holds you both close while you sleep in his arms, whispering sweet nothing's to the little princess.

Boyfriend and baby daddy!Scoups who proposes to you in that hospital bed, the baby between you and a ring resting on her chest.

Fiancé!Scoups who refuses to let you move when you get home. He brings you food and drinks and helps you to the bathroom and bathes you. He changes the baby's nappies and feeds her.

Fiancé!Scoups who is scared to be intimate with you in case he hurts you, so he waits four (4) months. He gives in when you ask his parents to take the baby for a night and greet him with the sight of you in his favourite lingerie.

Fiancé!Scoups who is happiest when he's got you snuggled into his side and little princess resting on his chest.

[httpsleclerc]

welcome home

pairing: Pierre Gasly x reader

summary: Pierre comes home to his girlfriend and newborn daughter after a long triple header.

warnings: none!

word count: 800 words

a/n: based on this request here! As always my requests are open and I love to get them! <3

my masterlist <33

The apartment was quiet, yet somehow felt homely as Pierre made his way into the home that he shared with you, and now with your latest edition; your daughter, Aurelie. You had given birth to her 3 weeks before the end of the season, and with Pierre almost halfway across the world in Las Vegas, you were terrified that he would miss the birth of your first born daughter. However, luckily, Jack had been on standby and ready to jump in should Pierre had to leave quickly to get on the first flight home to Milan.

He had gotten there just in time for you to start pushing, and see the birth of his daughter. It had been 3 weeks, and now the season had finally wrapped up and Pierre could spend time with you and your daughter. Locking the door behind him, he kicked his shoes off and placed them beside yours, leaving his backpack on top of his suitcase, all he wanted at this point was to be in bed with you and your daughter. However, as he made his way into your shared bedroom, he found you and Aurelie already asleep, with your daughter asleep on top of your chest.

"Shhh," You were half asleep, subconsciously running your hand up and down your daughter's small back to try and soothe her. You had just gotten her to sleep, and you hoped that your boyfriend's often unintentionally loud nature wouldn't wake her. "I just got her to fall asleep, please do not wake her up." You whispered, looking up at Pierre with pleading eyes. He smiled at  you sadly, knowing that tonight the two of you wouldn't be sharing a bed.

Yet he understood. You had basically been alone with your newborn daughter for the past 3 weeks, dealing with her on your own without him there had to have been tiring, so he could imagine that you were wanting as full a nights sleep as possible. He smiled as he nodded, bending over so he could press a kiss to your lips, hoping to not be too destructive as to wake up your sleeping baby. 

"Of course, Cherie, I will sleep on the couch for tonight," He placed his large hand on Aurelie's small back, placing it over the top of yours. "I can take the bedside cot and I can get up with her if she wakes up." He offered you, trying his best to relieve you in some way.

"Are you sure? You're just coming off of a long triple header, Pierre," You countered, sighing as he waved you off, offering to take your sleeping daughter from your arms and into his. "If you're sure." You carefully sat up so's not to disturb Aurelie, gently placing her into her father's arms. Thankfully, she settled into Pierre's hold and remained asleep. "'M sorry that the place is such a mess too, I've just been trying so hard to keep her settled and-"

"Please don't worry about it, amour, we can worry about that together tomorrow. You've done so much by carrying and bringing our daughter into the world, that is enough for me," He smiled at you softly, holding your sleeping daughter with on arm and quietly dragging the cot out to the living room, placing Aurelie into it before quickly heading back to your bedroom. "I love you so much, Y/N." He said quietly, noticing that you were very quickly falling asleep.

"I love you too, Pierre," You told him sleepily, dozing off as he sat beside you, holding your hand. "I'm so glad that you're home."  You mumbled, a sleepy smile gracing your features as you fell asleep. He smiled as he kissed your cheek, quickly grabbing his pyjama bottoms as he changed quickly before Aurelie woke up and needed tended to.

Making his way out to the living room, he smiled, the glow of the moon cast a shadow of your small daughter's face, her face that was so similar to yours. If anyone asked him, he would say that you and Aurelie were the most beautiful girls he had ever seen - His two beautiful girls. He settled on the sofa, smiling as he reached out his hand to hold onto his daughters, her small hand wrapping around one of his fingers.

Even though he was exhausted from 3 weeks of constant travel and racing, being at home with the two of you, and he was sleeping on the couch, it all felt worth it. Even if it meant that he was waking up hours after he'd fallen asleep to feed Aurelie during the night.

You were both worth it.

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSLEEPY * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Matt had a busy day and just wants to sleep in his lover arms.

FEATURING　matt sturniolo x fem reader　REQUESTED?　yes, by mymoots

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Y/N sighed in relief after closing the door to her house, locking it before placing her set of keys on the plate next to the entrance, next to Matt's car key. The girl took off her shoes, placing them up against the wall next to Chris' sneakers, making a mental note to clean them both the next day, or ask Chris to do so.

Y/N walked to the kitchen still with her purse on her shoulder, not wanting to put it on the counter, knowing that if she did she would forget to pick it later to put it in its proper place. The girl walked to one of the cabinets and took a glass of water, filling it and drinking all the contents there, before finally going to her room, which she shared with her boyfriend.

She was excited to see Matt, after a busy day at work she always loved sitting and listening intently as he recounted everything he did alone or with his brothers from the moment he woke up, her favorite stories being about what it was filming the video that would be posted the next day, or sometimes, on that same day.

And this was one of those days, when the boys left the recording of Friday's video to be recorded exactly on Friday, which made the day busier than normal and, consequently, more tiring.

Y/N quickly arrived at the room, knocking twice on the door before carefully opening it just enough to enter, before closing it again, finding the room completely dark, only lit by the low white lights that decorated the corner of the walls.

Matt was lying on the bed, on top of the covers, face down and his face turned to the other way.

The girl placed her purse on the chair closest to the door, removing her jacket and walking lightly towards her boyfriend, not sure if he was awake or asleep, and the last thing she wanted to do was disturb him.

"Matt? Baby?" Y/N whispered, bringing her face closer to the side of Matt's head, enjoying the fresh smell of shampoo.

"Hmm?"

"Are you awake?" She continued, now bringing her face closer to his, noticing his half-open eyes and sleepy face.

"I am, I haven't slept yet, I wanted to wait for you." He responded in a low whisper filled with exhaustion.

"Oh my love, there was no need. You recorded today's video during the day and you mentioned that you were going to the market, I imagine how tired you must be." Y/N spoke back, remembering the brief text that Matt sent her right after lunch, letting her know that he was going to stop by the market to buy some items that had run out of the fridge and cupboard, and that Y/N had written in the notes on his phone as it was the closest to her at the time.

"It's okay, I like seeing your face before I sleep." Matt whispered again, turning completely around to face Y/N, smiling slightly, his eyes almost closing completely.

"I love you." The girl spoke, approaching and kissing Matt's lips, without moving them, just a seal full of love and affection.

"Hm I love you more."

"Are you hungry? I can get a quick snack." Y/N asked, pulling away.

"A little, but I miss you more than I'm hungry, so lay here with me." He responded, pulling her arm lightly.

"Are you sure, honey?" He responded with just a nod. "Alright, let me just take a shower first."

"Nooo, don't leave me here all alone." He asked slyly, raising his arms. Y/N laughed at his whole drama as his blue eyes barely opened.

"It'll be quick, I promise."

"I'll go with you." He said, getting up and almot falling, what kept him from doing it was Y/N's hands on his shoulders.

The girl shook her head, knowing that asking him to lie down again would be a losing fight, so she just guided him to the bathroom, sitting him on top of the toilet.

The girl quickly took her clothes off and discarding them in the laundry basket, before entering the shower, casting a quick glance at Matt, who was half-bent over with his eyes half closed, the side of his body resting on the counter, making her smile, he was so kind to her.

It didn't take more than ten minutes and she was already drying herself, fulfilling her promise to be quick.

"Matt, go to bed, I'm almost done here." She asked, placing her hands on the boy's cheeks and lifting his face, bending down slightly and kissing his forehead, helping him to get up and gently pushing him to the room.

As she left the bathroom, her eyes traveled to the bed, smiling when she saw Matt in a half-sitting, half-lying position, with his eyes closed and his hand off the side of the bed, as if he was ready to catch her when she climbed into the comfort of his side.

Y/N went to their closet, taking fresh panties and Matt's shirt from her side of clothes, putting them both on before walking back to bed, lightly touching Matt's hand, which made him open his eyes quickly and look around, feeling a little lost.

"I'm awake, I promise." Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes at how stubborn the brunette could be when he wanted to.

"Go a little to the side, my love." She asked, pushing him away lightly with her hands, making space for herself. "When we wake up tomorrow, I want to know everything about your day." Y/N added in a whisper, getting under the covers and placing Matt next to her, before pulling him into her arms, letting he lay his head on her chest, knowing that the sound of her heartbeat calmed him down.

"And I'll tell you everything." He spoke back slowly, placing his hand around her waist before giving up to sleep.

Y/N paused for a few seconds to just watch her boyfriend's expression soften, the tension in his body giving way to lightness, and she couldn't help but smile. There was no better place for her than in Matt's arms.

© vanteguccir

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ 𝕒 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕞𝕖 ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!jeongin x girlfriend!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/comfort

♡ Summary: Jeongin's the type of boyfriend who never makes you question how much he cares for you. Still, there's one nagging insecurity you haven't been able to move past: Letting him see you naked. Sick of letting your fear get the best of you, you decide that tonight's the night to finally open up to him and it turns out you might've been afraid of nothing all along.

♡ Word Count: 2.1k-ish

♡ Warnings: body insecurities, nudity, a lil making out, mentions of sex, jeongin loves to touch your body, praise, and just all around fluffiness otherwise

♡ A/N: This started out as an anon request but I lost the post for that request (brb crying) so now we have a lil I.N comfort fic that will hopefully make my chubby Jeongin biased babes feel good in their skin cause you totally deserve to.

Moments like these Jeongin wishes could last forever. Between touring, appearances, and studio sessions his schedule’s been brutal lately, leaving him with little to no time to spend with the one girl he treasures most in the world—you. But tonight none of that matters. The world beyond the walls of his apartment doesn’t exist. There’s only him cozied up under a blanket on the couch with you cuddled against his body, your head resting on his chest as you lazily play with the strings of his hoodie.

The room’s dark except for the glow of the television. A movie’s playing but neither of you are truly watching it. His eyes are glued to you, committing to memory how beautiful you are from this angle. You seem so comfortable in his arms, so at peace, and the feeling’s infinitely mutual. 

Your own gaze is fixed on the screen but every image and sound you take in is passive. What you’re truly focused on is a thought that’s been cycling through your brain all night. Before you left to head over here you told your roommate not to wait up, you’d be spending the night at Jeongin’s place. Never one to pass up the opportunity to tease you, she asked if you needed to borrow a sweater or something to sleep in. You instantly regretted admitting to her over drinks that Jeongin has yet to see you naked, even after months of being together.

Whenever you have sex you keep the lights off and throw your clothes back on immediately after. If you shower and he’s around you always make sure to bring your clothes with you into the bathroom. Even Jeongin, who never wears anything to bed, always has something on when you sleep over to make you more comfortable. 

It’s nothing he’s ever complained about or tried to make you feel guilty for. More than anything he just seems happy to be with you, accepting your boundaries without hesitation. It’s one of a million reasons you’ve come to love him as much as you do. Still, you know that hiding from him isn’t something you can do forever. It isn’t something that you want to do forever.

“Baby” he says sweetly, petting your cheek, “You ready for bed?”

You take a deep breath, making up your mind that tonight’s the night. Your stomach sinks at the thought of how he might feel when he sees your body but at least you’ll know now before you fall for him any harder.

“Mmhmm” you nod, nuzzling your cheek against his chest one last time before sitting up. 

Jeongin hops up and gets to work clearing the snacks from the coffee table. With full hands, he leans down to plant the softest kiss on your lips. “You can go ahead. I’ll meet you in there in a second, okay?” 

You agree and gather the blanket in your arms, trembling as you shuffle down the hall towards the bedroom. It’s a short walk but it feels eternal. You’ve stepped through this threshold a dozen times by now but somehow this feels like your first. Suddenly the oversized hoodie and baggy sweatpants that once shielded your insecurities have you sweating like a sinner in church. It’s suffocating.

Tossing the blanket onto the bed, you tug your hoodie off to feel the fresh air kiss your skin. The coolness eases the tension in your body, leaving your hands a bit less shaky as you slip your sweatpants down and kick them aside. You stare down at your body, taking in the sight of your bare legs and your fluffy thighs that are just barely visible in the long t-shirt you’re wearing.

Your chest tightens as you pinch the bottom of your shirt, lifting the fabric little by little. It slides above your thighs, around the contours of your hips, revealing the panties you chose specifically for tonight. They’re silk, rose pink, with a lace trim and a delicate bow in the back and they’re the prettiest panties Jeongin’s ever seen simply because you’re wearing them. 

“Did I, uh, miss something?” Jeongin asks, frozen in the doorway.

Usually when he walks into the room you’re already under the covers waiting for cuddles he’s beyond eager to give you. Being met with this is something new entirely and he can’t help the way his heart races at the sight of it. You turn to find him staring at you wide eyed, shock painting his face. 

“Well, uh, I…” you stutter, fidgeting with the trim of your shirt, “I know you don’t really like sleeping with your clothes on and the weather’s really nice tonight so I thought, maybe, it’d be nice if we did that.” 

Jeongin closes the distance between you, his shock melting into concern. He brings an arm around your waist, stroking your side as he studies your expression.

“Baby, I already told you I’m cool with our clothes being on. I never want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

You rest your hand on his, soaking in the warmth of his touch. “It’s okay” you insist, immediately picking up on his skepticism. He doesn’t believe you for a second. You stare into his eyes, finding comfort in them even as they narrow in your direction. “I want you to see me, all of me, I don’t wanna be afraid anymore.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what? Did I…”

You cut him off before he can finish, refusing to let him believe for a second that there’s anything he did wrong. “No, Innie, you’re so good to me. It's just…I’m not the smallest girl. Feeling me is one thing but seeing me it’s���it’s…”

Your breath hitches at the sensation of Jeongin’s hands massaging your body. He smooths the plushness of your figure beneath his palms, stopping to squeeze your love handles, your belly, your thighs.

“Seeing you would be a gift” he whispers, his lips hovering near yours. “I’ve felt your body in the dark and I’m already addicted to how beautiful it is. If you take your clothes off or not, nothing will change. I promise.”

There’s no denying the rush that you get from being touched by him. You feel it every time, the impulse to let him tear your clothes off. The longing to feel his gaze dance over your naked body the way his hands do. Typically you fight it, your fears dulling your urges, but tonight you don’t. Instead you sweep him into a kiss laced with passion, guiding his hands to grip the fabric of your shirt. 

“Help me take it off, please” you beg, too cute to deny.

Jeongin nibbles at your bottom lip, “Only if you help me too.”

“Deal” you giggle as he steals your breath away, hungrily pulling you back into the kiss.

Your clothes are shed gently and slowly like the petals of a flower. One after the other, his and then yours. All the while Jeongin’s lips are drawn to yours like magnets. Every break he has to take is a small form of torture. You could kiss him every second of every day and it wouldn’t be enough. He needs to drown in it.

He can only bring himself to stop when he feels skin to skin contact. Your naked body’s pressed to his in the bright lighting of his room. He could see you if he wanted to, glance down and delight in the pleasure of something he’s only experienced in his imagination, but instead he focuses on your gorgeous face, his heart set on making sure this is what you really want.

“Can I look?” he asks, fingertips lightly trailing up and down your spine. 

You pause, pacing yourself for a decision you know you can’t turn back from, “It’s okay. You can look.” 

Time seems to stand still as Jeongin takes a step back and his gaze falls below your shoulders where your naked body awaits in all its vulnerability. His is the smooth, toned body that you already know it to be. You’ve caught glimpses of it here and there when he’s changed in front of you. And yours is beyond what he’d imagined during those long nights spent blindly exploring your form beneath the sheets.

At first he says nothing, does nothing. He only stares straight ahead, scanning you from head to toe. But just as the nervousness threatens to return he cracks a smile, his face lighting up, stars twinkling in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” He exhales the words as naturally as he breathes. 

You blush, a giggle escaping your lips, “Oh my gosh, stop it.”

“Stop it? How can I? Look at you.” 

Your self doubt wants to tell you that he’s lying—that these words you never imagined you’d hear couldn’t possibly be true—but you can’t deny the way Jeongin’s looking at you or the butterflies swarming your stomach. You try to bring your arms around yourself, a thoughtless attempt at hiding away again, but he grabs your hands, lacing his fingers between yours. 

“I mean it” he whispers, thumbs lightly grazing your skin, “Your body’s gorgeous and I feel lucky that you let me lay eyes on it. Thank you.” 

Your cheeks heat up and you dip your head down, too flustered by his words to maintain eye contact. Jeongin cups your cheek, tilting your head back up. He’s stubborn as always, refusing to let you escape his affection. 

“You think so too, don't you?” he asks, his lips floating back to yours. He almost kisses you, just almost, but lets his lips dance there, teasing you with their warmth. 

“Think what? I don’t…” you begin to speak but the feeling of his hands making contact with your belly steals away what was coming next. You let out the softest breath, bordering on a hushed moan. His touch always sets your soul on fire but this time there’s something different about it. Some new aspect of it that has your head all fuzzy and your knees going weak. 

“Think that I should feel lucky that I get to see you” he says, massaging the plush of your belly, “And grateful that I get to touch you.” 

He glides his palms down to your hips, taking indulgent handfuls of your curves as your body gives into his touch. Your fingertips run up his arm, feeling the ridges of his muscles as they flex with every breath. His body shivers, your quiet praise doing to him exactly what his does to you.

“You can’t say things like that, Innie.” 

“Why can’t I?”

“Because I might start believing it.”

Jeongin flashes you that dimpled smile, “Good. I want you to.” 

His lips collide with yours again and it feels like the whole room’s spinning because it is. He closes his arms around your waist, kissing you lovingly as he twirls you towards the bed. Before you know it your head’s resting on a pillow as your body sinks into the softness of the mattress. You can’t tell if it’s the mattress or the euphoria of Jeongin’s tongue tangled with yours but it’s like you’re floating on a cloud.

Jeongin kisses you like it’s the last time your lips will ever meet. His hands explore your body like they’re terrified to forget even the tiniest detail of what you feel like. The affection he pours into you is overwhelming yet you wouldn’t dare ask him to stop.

He saw you, everything about you, and the only place he ran to was your arms. You feel special, cherished in every way for exactly who you are. All your worries seem like nothing more than silly little things in the presence of his adoration. 

Finally breaking from the kiss, the necessity for air forcing your lips apart, Jeongin curls up beside you, keeping you in his arms as he slips a blanket over your naked bodies. You rest your head on his chest the same way you did on the couch, only now your mind isn’t wandering off somewhere far away. It’s right here with him, basking in the moment. 

“Promise not to hide from me anymore” he sighs, planting the sweetest kiss on your forehead. 

You relax into his arms, smiling as your heavy lids fall shut, “I promise.” 

You thought you’d feel more vulnerable lying beside him with your clothes in a pile on the floor but being like this with him is the safest you’ve ever felt, the most comfortable you’ve ever felt, in your own skin. Hide from him? And miss out on a feeling like this? Never again.

[cloudyluun]

Lash Out (And Love Me) | nailtech!reader

Summary: When your sweet, silly boyfriend Harry volunteers to be your lash and nail guinea pig, you expect giggles and glue—what you don’t expect is him fully committing to his Bratz doll era. With glitter acrylics, wispy lashes, and enough sass to rival your clients, Harry turns your beauty studio into his own personal runway. But behind the drama and the tapping acrylics is the same boy who brings you pastries, cleans up your space, and tells you you’re magic. Who knew self-care could be a team effort?

A/N: HIIIII ANGELS 😭💗💗 Sooo this fic is inspired by the most ICONIC request ever!!! I saw “Harry with lashes and acrylics” and immediately dropped everything because YES. THIS is the kind of cracky fluff my soul lives for. Imagine soft boyfriend Harry blinking dramatically with 16mm wisps and tapping his pink glitter nails like he’s the CEO of Slay?? I was giggling the whole time writing this. I hope it makes your heart melt and your inner glam girl scream 💅✨ ty for reading I love u mwah mwah mwah

Word Count: 5,1k

Warnings: 

Extreme levels of fluff 💖

Mentions of beauty salon tools (lash glue, acrylics, etc.)

Harry being dramatic with fake lashes

Reader lovingly clowning Harry

So much pink it's practically a Barbie dream

Slightly suggestive jokes, but still sweet & soft

✨ Tap tap ✨ noises from acrylics

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The scent of lavender cuticle oil and sweet vanilla wax hung in the air like a signature perfume. Her studio was always warm, always inviting, even when the outside world felt like a spinning mess. Half the space was dedicated to lashes—plush recliner, ring light, neatly arranged trays of tiny black fans that could flutter anyone into hot girl heaven. The other half was nails—acrylics, gels, brushes, powders, glitters, rhinestones. Everything had its place, a cozy kind of chaos that only she understood.

She was perched on her stool, mid-paint, tongue poking out in concentration as she dragged a fine-tipped brush over a client's ring finger, crafting a perfect little flame.

"Okay, babe. These are officially fire," she said, flashing the nails under the light. "Literally."

The client grinned, nodding in approval as she waved her hand slowly, admiring the reflection of the red and orange tips. "You’re a magician," she said.

“I try.”

The front door chimed then, a familiar little ding that always made her heart do a dumb skip. She didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“Is it the hottest lash tech in the land?” came a voice, low and teasing, already halfway through a smirk.

She turned, and there he was—Harry Styles, in all his casual glory. He had on a knit sweater with sleeves pushed up to his forearms, a cap low over his curls, and a brown paper bag in one hand, two lidded coffees balanced in the other.

"Hi, baby," she said, voice soft in a way it wasn’t with anyone else.

“Hi, love,” he grinned, walking the rest of the way in. He greeted the client with a polite smile before setting the bag and cups down on the small counter by her mini fridge. “I brought the goods. Flaky boy from that place you like, and the brown sugar one with the foam you always forget you love until you taste it.”

She raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You remember my order now?”

He puffed up like she’d handed him a Grammy. “Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I couldn’t rattle off your coffee order in my sleep?”

“A terrible one. You’d be single. Alone. Cold in the streets.”

“Harsh.”

The client laughed as she gathered her things, carefully avoiding bumping her freshly done nails on anything. “You two are disgustingly cute. Thank you again,” she said, waving her fingers like a hand model.

“Text me if you pop one!” She called after her, already wiping down her station.

Harry wandered over, snatching a paper towel to help without being asked. He moved around her space like he belonged, which he did—he was there more often than not, whether dropping in for ten minutes between interviews or killing time on a slow afternoon.

She nudged him with her hip. “You don’t have to clean.”

“I know. But I like it.” He glanced around at the freshly wiped surfaces, her well-loved tools, her little pink fan still humming faintly in the background. “This place’s got your whole vibe. Feels like you.”

She paused for a second, glancing up at him. He wasn’t looking for brownie points. He just said stuff like that. Simple, direct, heartfelt. It was his thing.

“I like it here,” he added, taking a sip of his own coffee. “It’s warm. Peaceful. You’ve made a whole business where people walk out feeling better than they did when they came in. That’s kinda magic, isn’t it?”

She squinted at him. “Are you trying to make me cry at eleven in the morning?”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing. You look cute when you cry.”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, smiling as she sipped her drink.

Harry leaned against the wall, watching her reload her brush pot and refill a bottle of rubbing alcohol with practiced hands. There was something kind of hypnotic about the way she worked—focused, fast, but always with care. It was the same when she did his nails sometimes for fun or patched up his cuticles because "you're not going on tour with hangnails, baby, absolutely not."

He loved seeing her like this. Not just because she looked hot with her lashes curled and her apron smeared with glitter, but because she lit up here. She was in her zone.

“So,” he said, dragging the word out. “Got any openings today, or is your schedule full of baddies?”

She gave him a look over her shoulder. “You tryna book a fill-in?”

He held up his hands. “Just saying. I’ve got some down time and ten perfectly good fingers. And very plain lashes, might I add.”

“Not the lash envy.”

“Maybe a little.”

She laughed, then gestured to the lash chair. “Come sit. I need to reorganize my lash trays anyway. You can be my moral support. And my taste tester.”

“Dream job,” he said, flopping dramatically into the chair, long legs sprawling. “This better be the flaky boy with the raspberry filling, or I’m gonna file a formal complaint.”

“I’ll file your nails down to nubs.”

He grinned, eyes sparkling. “Kinky.”

She tossed a clean towel at his face, shaking her head. This was how it always was—him showing up with breakfast, her pretending not to be thrilled every time. Their relationship didn’t need grand gestures or long speeches. It was the everyday stuff—the way he knew exactly where she kept the almond milk in the mini fridge, how he refilled her paper towel roll without being asked, how he always asked about her clients like he genuinely wanted to know.

He reached for the pastry and took a dramatic bite, making a face like it was the best thing he’d ever eaten. “God, you deserve awards. For taste. For style. For boyfriend selection.”

She snorted. “Modest.”

“Just accurate.”

She finished tidying up her station, then leaned against the table across from him, sipping the rest of her coffee. They sat in silence for a moment—comfortable, familiar, full.

Harry looked around the studio again, eyes lingering on the shelf of sample nails, the tiny framed photo of them in the corner, her name on the sign outside the window. “Y’know,” he said, softer now, “I really am proud of you.”

Her stomach did a little twist, the good kind. “Yeah?”

He nodded, still looking around like it was the first time he’d seen the place. “You built this. All of it. You didn’t wait for permission. Just... made it happen.”

She smiled, cheeks warm. “You’re gonna get me all sappy.”

“Good. You get all sappy, and I get more pastries. Win-win.”

They stayed like that for a little while longer, sunlight filtering through the blinds, pastries half-eaten on the counter, coffee slowly cooling. Just a regular day in the salon. But if you asked either of them, it was kind of perfect.

She finally peeled herself off the counter with a sigh, brushing a few flakes of pastry from her lap as she walked over to her lash cart. There was a new tray she’d been dying to open—extra wispy fans with staggered lengths that gave off that “effortlessly dramatic” vibe everyone wanted lately. She picked it up, turned it around in her hands like it might whisper secrets if she stared hard enough.

“I swear, these brands are making lashes out of clouds or something now,” she muttered.

Harry tilted his head from where he was still sprawled in the lash chair, eyes half-lidded, toe tapping in time with a faint beat playing from the Bluetooth speaker.

“That good?” he asked, sipping what remained of his coffee.

“That pretty,” she corrected, holding the tray up to the light. “I need to try ‘em. They’re supposed to have that barely-there, doe-eyed finish. Kinda like you woke up perfect but obviously didn’t.”

Harry smirked. “That’s your whole brand, innit? ‘Oh, this? I woke up like this, and also spent $120 to do so.’”

“Exactly.” She turned, hand on hip. “The lash girlies want soft glam that slaps. I gotta get it right.”

He watched her carefully select a few more tools, laying things out on her rolling tray, clearly falling into prep mode. The zone.

“You gonna call up one of your test-dummy besties?” he asked.

“Probably,” she said. “Or… I mean, you do have free time today.”

Harry raised a brow.

She grinned, almost sheepish. “I could practice on you. Lashes and nails. Kill two birds. You’d look hot.”

“Hot, huh?”

“Devastatingly hot.”

Harry pretended to consider this, setting down his coffee and folding his hands over his stomach in full melodramatic thinking pose. “Tell me more. Will I look like a pop princess or an early 2000s boyband member?”

She chewed on her lower lip, mock serious. “Mmm. Somewhere between Nick Carter and early Britney. A sprinkle of woodland fairy. With just a touch of ‘I own a pink convertible and wear bedazzled crop tops.’”

Harry burst out laughing, his head tipping back against the chair. “Honestly? Sounds iconic.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Wait—are you actually saying yes?”

He shrugged. “Why not? I trust you. Just don’t go posting me lookin’ like a Bratz doll on the internet.”

She blinked, surprised but not shocked. Harry had always been game for her weird ideas. He let her pluck his brows during a sleepover phase early on in dating, let her use his hand in an Instagram reel showing how to hold a brush “for max precision,” and once sat in full eye masks during a girls' night because “self-care is for everyone, babe.” But this? Lashes and acrylics? That was a new level.

“No posting,” she promised, crossing her heart. “But I am taking photos.”

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “For your private collection?”

“Obviously.”

He snorted. “You’ve got a folder of cursed boyfriend content, don’t you?”

“Oh, several,” she said casually, flipping on the ring light.

Harry kicked off his shoes and got comfortable, clearly committed now. “Alright then. Glam me up, baby.”

“You’re not gonna regret this?”

“I probably will the second I can’t scratch my face or blink right, but it’ll be worth it.”

She beamed and got to work, washing her hands and setting everything up like it was a real client appointment. Which, in a way, it was. Harry Styles was about to be her glittery guinea pig, and he was already making dramatic blinking noises just thinking about it.

She held up two lash trays in front of him. “Okay, serious question: Do you want full fairy fantasy or subtle glam?”

Harry leaned forward, examining the tiny fans like he had any clue what he was looking at. “Give me... the drama. If I’m doing it, I want to be able to blink and cause a breeze.”

“Say less.”

She prepped his lashes, brushing them with a soft spoolie, while he hummed a random melody under his breath. When she pulled out the lash glue, he immediately started flinching.

“I haven’t even touched you yet,” she laughed.

“I’m mentally preparing! I’ve never had hot glue near my eyeballs!”

“It’s not hot,” she corrected. “And you said you trust me, remember?”

“I do, I do,” he said, eyes fluttering closed as she leaned in.

The first lash went on without incident. Then, Harry started in.

“Am I giving pop-punk princess yet?”

“Not even halfway done.”

“Do I look like I should be in a girl group?”

“Almost.”

“Which one? Don’t say Spice Girls, that’s too easy.”

“You’re giving... Little Mix but, like, in their early days.”

He grinned, keeping his eyes closed. “Jade would be proud.”

She tried to stay focused—precision was key with lashes—but he kept interrupting her with increasingly ridiculous questions.

“What if I love them and don’t want to take them off?”

“Then you’ll be high-maintenance with high standards. Join the club.”

“What if I start influencing your clients?”

“Honestly, free marketing.”

By the time she was on the last lash, she was shaking with laughter, trying not to botch the placement. Harry had invented three fake personas for himself in the span of twenty minutes: a pop icon named Starlight Vixen, a lash influencer called Blink Twice, and a dramatic nail reviewer with the handle “ClackDaddy.”

When she finally finished, she held up the mirror.

Harry blinked slowly, then gasped. “Oh my god. I feel gorgeous. Like a Bratz doll that got lost at Coachella.”

“You’re stunning,” she agreed, snapping a dozen photos before he could protest.

“No posting, woman.”

“These are for me,” she said, saving them in a hidden album on her phone. “For emotional support purposes.”

Harry fluttered his lashes dramatically. “I feel like I could cause problems with these.”

“You already do.”

“Okay, but more problems.”

She laughed and leaned down to kiss his forehead, lashes and all.

“Can we keep them on for the rest of the day?”

“You’ll forget and rub your eye in like twenty minutes.”

“True,” he admitted. “But for now, I’m living my best life.”

He fluttered his lashes one more time for good measure, then gasped. “Wait—what if these change me as a person? What if I get emotionally attached to them?”

“You already are,” she said, laughing. “You’re naming them in your head, aren’t you?”

“Left side’s Veronica. Right side’s Dominique.”

“Of course they are.”

He beamed. “Veronica’s my edgy side. Dominique’s all vibes and velvet.”

She rolled her eyes and tossed the used lash brush into the trash. “Alright, Vixen. Ready for your nail appointment?”

He cracked his knuckles dramatically. “My time has come.”

“Hands on the table, pretty boy,” she said, patting the plush towel she’d laid out.

Harry obeyed with the seriousness of someone preparing for surgery. “Be gentle. These hands have held Grammys.”

“They’ve also dropped your phone in the toilet twice.”

“Allegedly.”

She snorted and grabbed her file, gently shaping his nails. He winced at first, clearly expecting it to hurt, which made her laugh. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just adjusting to life as a hand model.”

“You’re about to have pastel pink coffin tips with tiny hearts. Not sure that’ll land you the Chanel campaign.”

“First of all,” he said, completely serious, “pastel pink is timeless. Second, hearts are very me.”

“You want hearts?”

He nodded, lips pursed. “Hearts. Glitter tips. Full Barbie glam. If we’re doing it, we’re doing it properly.”

She blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Absolutely. This is my moment.”

“Oh, you’re deep in character now.”

“I am the moment, babe. Click clack bitch, part two.”

She giggled, reaching for her swatch wheel and holding it out like a treasure trove. “Pick your shade of pink.”

He pointed decisively. “That one. The one that looks like strawberry milk.”

“Solid choice.”

While she prepped his nails, pushing back cuticles and buffing the surface, he tapped his phone with his pinky like he was adjusting to life post-nail-enhancement already.

“Feels weird,” he muttered. “Like, delicate. Powerful. I feel like I should be emotionally distant from everyone and start a feud on Instagram.”

“You’re gonna be unbearable.”

“Oh, I already am.”

Once she finished the prep, she gently applied the tips, sculpting them just long enough to be dramatic without compromising Harry’s ability to live as a functioning adult. He examined them mid-process like they were tiny art installations. “This one’s giving... main character energy. I think she’s the leader.”

“You’re naming the nails now?”

“Of course I am. That’s Gloria,” he said, pointing to his ring finger. “She’s been through things.”

“Okay, I can’t do this,” she said, stifling a laugh as she started laying down the pink base. “You’re too much.”

“I’m just emotionally connected to my glam.”

“You’ve had it for forty-five minutes.”

“And yet it’s changed me.”

By the time she started painting the little hearts—perfect, tiny, hand-drawn with a dotting tool and steady precision—he was absolutely glowing. Lashes still intact, head tilted to the side like a proud glamazon.

“You’re really good at this,” he said, quieter this time.

She looked up, surprised by the sudden softness. “Thanks, babe.”

“No, seriously. You could be charging triple. You’ve got the hands of a magician.”

“I’ve got carpal tunnel, but thanks.”

He laughed. “Still. You’re brilliant.”

She gave him a small smile and went back to top coating his left hand. “You’re only saying that because I’m holding you hostage with a UV lamp.”

“And because I love you.”

She froze for half a second, then glanced up. His expression was so soft, it made something ache in her chest. “Love you too, Glamazon.”

He smiled like he’d just won something.

Once she finished curing the top coat, she sprayed his hands with alcohol and rubbed off the tacky layer. The moment she was done, Harry immediately began tapping.

Tap. Tap. Tap. On the counter. On his phone. On the glass of the mini-fridge. It was relentless.

“Stop it,” she warned, already grinning.

“I can’t,” he said, eyes wide. “They make noise. Beautiful noise. I’m like a rich aunt passive-aggressively texting her Pilates instructor.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“You’re gonna break them.”

“I would die before I broke Gloria.”

She crossed her arms. “You keep saying ‘click clack bitch’ and I will soak them off.”

He gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“But I haven’t even sent my dramatic voice note to Jeff yet.”

Before she could stop him, he lifted his phone and hit record.

“Jeff,” he said, clicking his nails against the phone mic like a Real Housewife in crisis. “I can’t come to the meeting. My lashes are too heavy, and my nails are too long. You wouldn’t understand. I’m different now.”

He hit send before she could snatch the phone away.

“Harry!”

“He’ll think it’s funny!”

“He’s going to think I’ve trapped you in a glittery nightmare.”

Harry grinned, completely unbothered. “Let him. I’m thriving.”

She watched him admire his nails in the mirror, fluttering his lashes, tapping the glitter tips gently on his cheek like he was testing how they felt against his skin.

“Can you believe I’ve never done this before?” he asked.

“I can,” she said. “Most people don’t immediately jump to full Barbie glam when trying something new.”

“Well,” he said, hands on his hips. “You deserve to practice on the best.”

“Oh, is that what this is? Practice?”

“It’s an honor, really.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And beautiful.”

She laughed, grabbing her phone again and snapping another picture before he could protest. “You keep talking like that, I’m putting these in the salon slideshow.”

He gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“Private folder only.”

She winked. “We’ll see.”

As he posed again, showing off the nails like he was about to start his own press-on line, she couldn’t help but feel a strange burst of warmth.

This was the kind of thing that would’ve scared other guys away—too extra, too silly, too “not manly”—but Harry? Harry was here in her lash chair with butterfly wisps on his lids and baby pink hearts on his fingertips, smiling like this was exactly where he wanted to be.

And honestly, it was. He’d made that more than clear.

She smiled into his chest, nose tucked just under his jaw, fingers playing with the hem of his hoodie. She stayed there for a while—just breathing him in, warm laundry and skin and the faintest trace of vanilla latte—but then she pulled back slightly and tilted her head to get a proper look at him.

The lashes were still holding strong, each little cluster fanned out just enough to make his eyes look even greener in the soft light. His nails, glossy and perfect, tapped idly against her thigh like they had a mind of their own.

“Okay,” she said, sitting up. “Before you ruin this masterpiece with something dumb like cooking or... zipping a jacket, I need photos.”

His eyes widened instantly. “No.”

“Harry.”

“Nope.”

“C’mon!”

“I draw the line at photo evidence.”

“You already let me glue lashes on your face and hearts on your fingers.”

“That was private,” he said, as if that settled it.

She leaned in close, flashing him her best sweet-evil grin. “So let me keep it private. Just for me. Promise.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Define private.”

She whipped out her phone and pulled up her locked album folder. “I have a whole section already titled ‘My Princess’ with, like, three blurry photos of you eating ice cream and one where you're asleep on the couch with a face mask on. This will fit perfectly.”

He stared at her. “You named it my princess?”

She nodded solemnly. “You were wearing a robe and fuzzy socks. It was fitting.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Smile,” she said, raising her phone.

He tried to block his face with his hands, but the second he did, he caught his own nails in the reflection of her phone screen and cracked up.

“You’re actually loving this,” she teased, snapping a photo mid-laugh.

“I am not,” he said, fully smiling now.

Click.

“Okay, but what am I supposed to do with my hands?” he asked, suddenly self-conscious, holding them up awkwardly like mannequin claws.

“Anything. Literally anything,” she said, already clicking away. “Pose like a housewife. Pose like a pop star. Pose like someone who just spent ninety minutes getting pampered and secretly loved every second.”

He raised one pinky and gave a dramatic side-eye to the mirror.

Click.

He pouted, blowing her a kiss.

Click.

He sprawled back on the couch, hand resting against his temple like he was fainting from glam.

Click.

She was giggling so hard she almost dropped the phone. “Oh my god, you’re giving Vogue cover.”

“I’m giving get me out of here before this ends up on Twitter,” he said, even as he held the pose.

“You’re safe,” she said, locking the album and tucking the phone into her back pocket. “Swear.”

“Not even to your group chat?”

“Especially not to them. These are for emergencies only.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like...?”

“Like if I’m sad or stressed or you’re on tour and I miss your face. I’ll open that folder, see you with a full set and baby lashes, and everything will feel lighter.”

His smile softened, and he reached for her hand, nails clicking gently against her skin. “That’s allowed.”

She grinned. “You sure?”

“As long as you never post them.”

“Never. Cross my heart.”

They sat there in silence for a beat, just the two of them in the soft hum of the salon, surrounded by the faint scent of topcoat and sugar. The kind of silence that felt easy, like a blanket thrown over the day. She curled into his side again, the weight of his arm wrapping around her.

His fingers traced idle shapes on her arm, the pads of his fingers cool against her skin. He looked down at her lashes fluttering against her cheeks, then wiggled his own dramatically.

“You know,” he said, “I feel kind of... powerful like this.”

She looked up. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Lashes like butterfly wings. Nails like daggers. I could destroy a man.”

She laughed. “You can barely open a Snapple.”

“Still,” he said, holding his hand out in front of him, admiring the shimmer, “this is art.”

“You’re my art.”

He gave her a pleased little grin. “You’re just saying that because I let you practice on me.”

“I’m saying it because you’re ridiculous and wonderful and also very sparkly right now.”

He leaned in and kissed her softly, just once, then rested his forehead against hers. Then he pulled back slightly, lashes fluttering again with over-the-top drama. “Now do you think I could pull off rhinestones?”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

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[thecuriousbeauty]

One-Love! (Harry Styles Oneshot- Tennis player! Harry x Tennis Player y/n)

Synopsis:- This is a one shot inspired by Paris Olympics Gold medalists Katerina Siniakova and Tomas Machac, a beautiful couple who broke up before the olympics to focus on their game, and teamed up in the mixed doubles event to win the gold for their country. They shared a sweet kiss after their victory.

Word Count: 4,219

Warnings: Smut. Some sweet sex, a little bit of angst, and lots of fluff.

_______________________________________________

The sun was bright, warm, and not harsh, falling over y/n’s face through the small gaps of her window blinds. The alarm goes off and she wakes up with a soft groan, expertly reaching out a hand to silence it, without having to look. 

“Wakey wakey, it’s a beautiful morning!”She hears her boyfriend, Harry, and curls up on her side, hiding further under her blankets and acting like she’s still sleeping as she hears his footsteps coming towards her.

She feels the bed dip down with Harry’s weight as he climbs on, and leans over her, his breath fanning her face. “Aw, look at you, my sleepy head.”

y/n has to trap in her smile as she feels his gentle fingers stroke over her hair, moving the strands away from her face. “What am I gonna do to wake her up?”Harry wonders, smiling as he knows she’s playing with him. “Maybe I should go with a tickle attack.”

y/n gasps as his arms wrap around her waist, and hands sneak up to his oversized shirt she was wearing. “You can’t wake people up with tickle attacks!”, she says.

He laughs, pulling her so her back is to his chest. “You’re awake then?”

“No.”, she grumbles, turning around in his arms, and resting her forehead on his shoulder blade.”Why is it morning so fast?”

“Well, we did stay up till late. You wanted to go another round and then-”

“-Oh shut up.”, she cuts him off, and opens her eyes, meeting the forest green ones staring back at her. Harry’s face splits into a big smile as he rubs his nose with hers, something they always do. “There’s my girl.”

y/n has known Harry since years. They grew up in the same neighborhood, and their parents are friends. y/n and Harry didn’t get off to a great start though. Harry and his friends were playing football when y/n and her friend were walking by, and one of them kicked the ball towards them, making it splash onto a puddle right in front of them. The murky brown water fell on y/n’s friend’s new white top. Of course the boys didn’t mean to and they apologized, but since then, her friends wouldn’t look eye to eye with those boys. It seemed like a good grudge to keep at their young age.

y/n had a love for tennis. She loved watching the matches with her dad, and her dad even set up a net for her in the backyard so they could play. He enrolled her in the nearest coaching academy, where she didn’t know that Harry was training as well. 

“Oh Harry! It’s her first day today. Good that you have a friend already, eh?”Her dad smiles as he pats little Harry’s shoulder. The older curly haired boy smiled at y/n, a little smile playing on his lips. y/n tells her dad that she would be okay, and he leaves, promising to come pick her up after two hours. 

“So, you like tennis?”Harry asks, looking sideways at her as they walk inside. 

“Yes. You too?”, she asks, and he nods, putting out a hand. “Friends then?”

y/n smiles, shaking his hand. “Friends.”

“Someone once told me that mornings are the best time to train.”, Harry tells her as he brings his hands up to cup her face. 

“Must be a crazy person.”, she smiles, admiring how some of his brown curls fell over his face. “Yes, she is quite crazy. But I love her.”, he smiles back, dimples popping as his thumb stroked over her bottom lip. “Let’s go, sunshine. Made our smoothies ready.”

“Kiss?”, y/n puckers her lips. Harry looks at her fondly, before pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. “I love you too.”, she says, ruffling his hair when they pull away and sits up, stretching her arms above her head. 

Harry and y/n get into their training clothes, after y/n freshens up and they get going to the court where they practice. They did their warm ups, and ran some rounds around the court first. Harry and y/n had different coaches, but they train together a lot of times.

“You’re going down, Styles.”, y/n says, pushing her hair back with her head band before picking up her racket.

“You can try, y/n.”, Harry grins, who was jumping on his toes on the opposite side. 

Harry was easily the best player she had played with, and played against. He was quick on his toes, his eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s, and he moved on the court like a panther. He was something you would call a mastermind, he had moves saved until the last moment and surprised his opponent when they least expected it. Harry had the saddest time of his life when he failed to qualify for the Tokyo Olympics. He got injured during the qualifying match, and he couldn’t be at his best.

“One- Love!", Harry smirks, as he gets a point. 

y/n’s coach thought she wasn’t ready yet during Tokyo, so she was now looking at the Paris Olympics. Winning a medal for her country was her dream and she would do anything to get that. 

“Yess!”, y/n cheers as she gets the match winning point to beat Harry. They always get so close, and playing against y/n sends the gears in Harry’s head turning, and he has to be at the top of his game. y/n walks to the bench, sitting down tiredly and Harry walks to her, giving her a fist bump. “Nice one, babe.”

“Thanks.”, she smiles, taking her water bottle out of her bag and pouring some over her face before chugging it down. “Wanna go again?”

“I’d like to, but I’ve got a session with the coach in the evening, don’t wanna over work myself.”, Harry tells her and she nods. “Shall we go grab breakfast?”, he asks her.

“Sure.”

Harry and y/n get some breakfast, then spend the day with each other before they part for training with their coaches in the evening. 

“y/n, you have six months from now for the qualification rounds.”, her coach tells her. “We have to make a game plan for that soon.”

“I’m at the top of my game right now coach, I just have to keep doing what I’m doing, right?”, she asks. She had won silvers, and golds in the previous tournaments. She was one of the country’s best at the moment. 

“This is the Olympics, y/n, it’s not going to be easy.”, he tells her. “You have to work double as hard.”

“I will. I’m gonna go to Paris this time.”

He smiles at her, keeping his hands together over his knees as he leans to talk to her. She was sitting on the court, arms around her knees. “You know you have to let go of all distractions, right?”

“My social media and stuff? Yeah, I can do that.”

“I’m talking about Styles.”

She raises her eyebrows. “What about him? He isn’t a distraction coach, we make each other better. Besides, we’re competing in different categories, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I want your focus to be on Tennis completely, y/n.”, he stresses. “You can’t do that if you’ve got a love life. And you know as well I do, that Harry will do anything to get this win. He needs it. He’s getting older, and he’s under a lot of pressure. It’s good for both of you to stop dating for a while, at least until this gets over.”

y/n opens her mouth and closes it. “You’ve got what it takes y/n, you are so talented. Isn’t this your dream?”

“Yes..”, she whispers. 

“Then you have to let go of everything and give me your best in these next few months.”

Harry was fed the same things from his coach, and they both stopped seeing each other so frequently. They stayed over less, and there was this air of tension around them as the days grew closer. 

“Babe..”, Harry says. He pauses the show they were watching, making y/n turn to look at him. “Hm?”

“W-We, um, we need to talk.”

y/n nods, sitting up, and Harry takes her hand. He didn’t want to tell her this, but he had to. Tennis was important to him. This could be his last chance to finally make it. He had to make sacrifices. 

“I think we should stop seeing each other.”, he murmurs. “They’re right, we have to focus on the sport. It’s our dream.”

y/n’s heart squeezes in her chest. “Y-You’re just as important to me, Harry.”

Harry quickly looks up to her eyes, squeezing her hand. “y/n, you mean the world to me. You’re my person, and my everything. Trust me, I thought about this a lot.”

“Me too.”, she agrees quietly. “This is it, then?”

“No. No, please, don’t say that.”, he shakes his head, leaving her hand to scoop her into his lap. One of his hands cups her cheek, while the other lays at her hip. “We can get back together..when things are not so hectic.”

“So..we break up for a few months to focus on Tennis?”, she asks, tears springing in her eyes, and Harry’s heart breaks as he sees that. He nodded. “M-My dad..he wanted me to win in the Olympics, it was his dream. He even told me about it before he d-died. I-I have to do this, y/n.”

She nods, understanding. She had the same love for the sport. An Olympic medal is the best achievement for any sports person.

“I love you.”, she whispers, her forehead touching his. 

“I love you too.”, he whispers back, kissing her. His tongue strokes over her bottom lip and she opens up, to let his tongue explore her mouth. Her fingers play with the curls at the back of his head, as his hands run up and down her sides. “One last time?”, he whispers against her lips, eyes looking at hers. 

“One last time.”, she agrees, joining their lips again. Harry’s lips trail down her neck, and her jawline, leaving his marks. “N-No seeing anyone else, right?”, she asks.

“Do you want to?”, he asks, slipping his hand under her shirt to grope at her breast. She moans, pressing closer to him as she feels his boner through her shorts. “No..n-no one’s as good as you, Harry.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”, he smirks, rubbing her nipple between his fingers. “Let me see you, baby.”, he whispers, tugging her shirt off her body. y/n does the same to him, and continues to straddle his lap as he marks her up.

She runs her hands over his muscular arms, his broad shoulders and over his inked chest. “Just like that baby, go down on me, just like that.”, he murmurs, hands moving to her hip to get her into a rhythm. He plays with her breasts and showers her in kisses, groaning against her skin. 

“H-Harry I need you.”, she moans softly. “Please.”

“Anything for you, baby.” Harry picks her up, hands under her ass as he takes them to the bedroom, their lips connecting again. He lets her back hit the bed softly, before hovering over her. “You are so beautiful.”, he punctuates each word with a kiss down to her stomach, while his hand moves to her core, feeling the sleekness of her wet folds. 

“Right back at ya, Styles.”, she says, pulling him closer as she runs her hands down his back. Harry groans, not able to hold on any longer. “Let me get inside you, darling.”

She spreads her legs, and he pushes his dick inside her. She moans at the feeling of being full. Harry fills her up so well. He starts moving in and out of her, his eyes looking at hers. “You feel so g-good, y/n.”, he moans. “So perfect for me.”

y/n looks at the love of her life, her chest bursting with emotions. She wished they could be here like this, with only the two of them in their own world forever.

“H-Harry?”, she asks, opening her palm, wanting him to hold her hand while he fucked her. Harry looks at her, also brimming with emotions. He tangles his hand with hers immediately, squeezing it tight. “I-I love you y/n. I love you so much.”

“I-I love you too.”, she smiles, her body starting to shake as she feels her orgasm coming. She clenched around his dick, and he brought his other hand to rub her clit. Her eyes roll back in her head as she whispers his name, again and again, as she reaches her high. Harry cums after she does, and he lays on top of her, exhausted.

“We’ll be fine, love.”, y/n whispers, running her hand through her favorite head of curls. 

Harry smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “We will.”

_____________________________________________

y/n and Harry hadn’t seen each other, or talked to each other for months. Harry missed y/n so much that he felt a constant tugging in his heart. He trained alone with his coach, and he missed the times when they would mess around with each other. He missed her laugh, the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles, he missed her scent in his room, on his clothes, he missed everything about her. The only thing that kept him going was his game.

y/n wasn’t any better. She was alright for the first few weeks, but then the empty space next to her on the bed, the lack of warmth when she woke up in the mornings, and the lack of cheesy jokes made her think about Harry. She was on a strict diet, and her coach put her on a different workout regime. It was so extreme that after a while, the only thing on her mind was Tennis. Her mind was trained. 

Over the months, y/n’s agility improved along with other aspects, and she became great at reading the game. She was beating everyone she played against. Finally, it was time for the qualification rounds. 

Harry had finished his match, and he had won, so he had booked his spot in Paris, representing Britain. 

“Back to the hotel now?”, his friend, who’s also under the training of his coach asks him. 

“Next match in court number five! y/n y/l/n versus Yasmin Reinardo!”, Harry hears the announcement and his eyes widen. He wanted to go see her.

“Um, you go ahead.”, he told his friend, before rushing off to court five. He joined the audience, making it just in time.

He felt so many emotions when he saw her. It had been six months. His sunshine, his baby, his love. She looked incredible. Gorgeous as always, and she had gained some muscle around her arms. Her hair was tied into a high pony, and she wore her favorite white head band which she thinks is her lucky charm. 

Harry was so proud as he watched his girl on the court, she was on fire. Her opponent was good, but not good enough. 

y/n won the game, and the other girl broke into tears. After all, she also had the dream for representing her country at the Olympics. y/n pulls her into a hug, rubbing her back as she mumbled something Harry couldn’t hear, but he smiled. He quickly went down to meet her, as she wiped the sweat off her body with a towel.

“Congratulations, love.”

She spins around so quickly when she hears his voice, and her eyes melt. She was overjoyed with emotion because of the win. She was going to compete in the Olympics for the first time! And the first person that she wanted to see was Harry, who was right in front of her.

“Harry.”, she gushes, before throwing her arms around him. Harry didn’t mind the sweat, he needed the hug just as much as she did. He squeezed her to her chest, holding her close. “O-Oh my god, I can’t believe it.”, she shakes in his arms.

“You made it love, you’re going to Paris!”, he rubs her back, pressing his lips to the top of her head. He heard the camera click, and knew their photos were being taken. Oh well. He couldn’t worry about that now.

“Y-You?”, y/n pulls back to look at him. Harry grinned at her, dipping his head down to rub his nose with hers. “I’m coming along too.”

She grins back and squeezes him. “I would have been so mad if we broke up for no reason. We get a free ticket to Paris!”

________________________________________

The Olympics will be held in another four months.. They caught up that day during the qualifications, grabbed a dinner together to celebrate, and then they were back to training. 

They would see each other more often now, because all the British representatives trained together. Harry and y/n were both in better spirits now that they could see each other frequently, even if it was strictly during practice. 

They would exchange subtle glances, touch hands when they exchanged things, and talk when they got time, but it was mostly about the game. One month before the Olympics, their team was yet to decide who would play for the mixed doubles. 

“You both have played together before, right?”, one of the coaches asked Harry. “y/n and I? Yeah, in the commonwealth, we won bronze.”

“I think they’re our best shot.”, the guy says, looking at the other coaches and the players. 

“What do you guys think?”

Harry looks at y/n, from across the room, like I’m okay if you’re okay.

Yes, there was their break up thing, they hadn’t kissed in months, there would be sexual tension having to play right next to him as his team member, and she couldn’t let that affect the event she was competing for. But it was an amazing opportunity, she had two chances to get a medal.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. We’ve played together the most, and we make a good team.”, y/n said, and Harry smiled. 

So that’s how they started preparing together, for the mixed doubles along with their own events. 

“Are you nervous?”, y/n asks one night, as she sits on the floor stretching. “We’re flying to Paris tomorrow, Harry.”

“I’m excited about going to Paris, but am I nervous about the actual reason we’re going? Yes.”, he says, making her chuckle. They were the only ones there, and Harry was putting his racket into its case. “It’s gonna be unreal. I mean, we’re getting a step closer to our dreams.”

y/n nods, stretching her legs out. “Any tips from your experience? About the whole adjusting to playing in the world’s biggest tournament thing.”

Harry laughs lightly, turning to her. “Babe, this is my first time too.” He crouches down so he’s looking at her. “But I’d say just focus on your game. You are the best, believe only that. Tune out everything else. You might feel like listening to the crowd who’s cheering for you, but tune that out too. You focus on doing what you’re good at. You’ve sacrificed so much for this, and you deserve to win. Play with that feeling.”

y/n looks into his eyes, and nods as his words seep into her brain. Her eyes moved to his lips, he was so close. Just one kiss. 

Harry leaned closer, but it was to grab her leg. “Let me stretch you out.”

“Y-Yeah..”, she looks away from him. Harry had only gotten more attractive, and she loved seeing him in his short tennis shorts and a loose shirt. His tattoo covered muscular arms made her go weak in the knees.

“Lay back.”, Harry says and she does. Harry’s hands slowly lift up her leg, one of his hands on the back of her thigh and the other on her foot as he applies some pressure to it. She can’t stretch herself out so well. 

“Other leg.”, Harry smiles, keeping that leg down and his hands reaching for her other leg. She lifts it up, and he stretches it out like he did with the other. He was on his knees in front of her. Then he folds her leg, making her knee touch her chin.

“Hold it for another second..”, he hums, counting down. He did the same for the other leg, and she feels like her muscles are dissolving under her touch. 

“Pancake time.”, Harry pats her thigh, and she sits up, leaning over with her hands on the floor, going into something called the pancake stretch. Harry goes behind her, and applies pressure to her back. “Head down..that’s it, hold it there.”

She groans, feeling the stretch. Harry can’t help but smile, she can’t see his face anyway. “Alright, arms up.”

He stretches her arms, holding them above her head, and when he’s done, he kisses the top of her head. “All done.”

“Thanks, H.”, she smiles. “I’m gonna get going, make sure I’ve packed everything.”

“Mhm.” He wishes he could go with her. 

“Soon.”, she promises, like she read his mind, and he smiles as she kisses his cheek before walking away with her bag.

_____________________________________________________

It was crazy. Harry and y/n were in the Olympic Village, competing in the Paris Olympics. It was unbelievable. y/n had to pinch herself when she got there. It was every sports lover’s dream. They got a little tour when they arrived, and she was awed by all the different areas for the numerous sports competitions. 

She stood beside Harry for the opening ceremony, along with their other team members as they were welcomed. She was overwhelmed, thinking about how hard she had worked to get there. 

Her own event was going to be after a few days, the first event was her mixed doubles with Harry. They knew very well each other’s strengths and weaknesses, who should cover what, and everything else. They were well prepared and planned.

They won every game they played, and made it to the finals. 

y/n wanted to win this for Harry. She was going to give it her best. 

“We got this.”, Harry squeezes her hand as she jumps around, minutes before the match. “y/n, we got this.”

She nods, taking a deep breath and looking at him. A medal was sure. If not gold, silver. But their eyes were on the gold. Everyone wants to win.

She walks to Harry, and hugs him. “We’ve gotten this far love, this is the final stretch.”, Harry whispers against her hair. “I am so fucking proud of you.”

“I-I’m proud of you too.”, she pulls back to hold his face. “A-And I can’t do it anymore. I-I can’t live without you, Harry.”

“Neither can I, baby. I need you in my life, I can’t fucking breathe if I think about losing you, ever.”, Harry squeezes her tight. “Now, it’s time to win a medal. What do you say?”

“I say yes.”, she grins. 

Everyone cheers as Harry and y/n enter the court, shaking hands with their opponents. The fans loved to cook up theories about Harry and y/n, being seen out a lot of times with each other and their chemistry on the court is just magical to watch. Harry and y/n give cheeky responses when they're asked about it during interviews. They never confirmed their relationship, but their fans think it's obvious.

“One- Love!”

They score a point, and grin at each other before their hands meet for a fist bump. It was a tight game, keeping the people watching at the edge of her seats. They won the first set.

y/n and Harry are seen whispering to each other and their coaches as they drink their water and electrolytes during the break. They knew where their opponents were weak and just how to win the second set just like they had won the first.

And they do.

y/n screams in joy and astonishment. The fact that she just won an Olympic Gold Medal for her country felt so unreal! Harry was going through the same emotions. He made his father proud, he achieved what he had been working towards for years. 

The whole world was looking at them, but Harry could only see one person. His partner and the love of his life. 

“We won Harry! We won!”, she jumps high into the air, before wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him. Harry laughs as he lifts his girl up, spinning her around. They were laughing and crying at the same time. When Harry lets her feet touch the ground, she grins at him through her tears, and he cups her face. “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Harry.”, she chokes back, and Harry couldn’t wait any longer. He kissed her. He kissed her like he didn’t for 10 months, he kissed her like he couldn’t breathe, and he kissed her like they just became World Champions.

Kateřina Siniaková and Tomáš Macháč- Gold medlists, Mixed Doubles. Paris Olympics, 2024.

[kimberly-spirits13]

Jason Todd During Your Period

Sweetest thing

Feels so bad that you feel bad and does anything humanly possible to alleviate the pain

He knows how to handle periods since he has all the batgirls and he had to take care of his mom when he was younger

He’s the kind of boyfriend where you can just be like “hey when is my next period?” And he’d know off the top of his head

Won’t blame you for any outbursts or anything and he tries his best to not annoy you

If you get nightmares or really funky dreams on your period that wake you up, he always wakes up to make sure you’re okay

Becomes a light sleeper during your period in anticipation that you wake up and need something or are basically dying

Specifically ordered you two of those massive heating pads and let’s you lay on top of him with them

One heating pad for the back and one stomach

It’s a miracle tool yall

It’s the kind of thing where you finally get settled and you cry because it’s so amazing

NOT BEING IN PAIN AND BEING ABLE TO SLEEP IS WONDERFUL

He’d feel so bad if that happened though because he’d realize how bad you really felt in the moment

He knew you were struggling but it always hurts him to see you in pain

Stocks up on pain killers

Makes you your favorite food and brings your favorite food home from patrol because let’s be honest

No girl is sleeping on her period without her comfort 🤚

He’ll take as many naps with you as you want and do a spa day

*face mask on and hair mask in* “no Dick I’m not on patrol tonight, I’m busy.” “

Knows exactly what to get at the store if you ask him since he had to get stuff for his mom

Will bring back chocolate or whatever your favorite snack is

Let’s be honest, chocolate gets boring after about a day

Holds you while you’re in pain

Makes sure to call you often when he’s on patrol go check in, especially if you’re benched from patrol for the week because of it

Is mostly calling for himself to make sure you’re not dying or anything

Gets medical advice from Alfred

Is genuinely afraid you’ll become anemic or something if he thinks you’re losing too much blood

You two are experts at getting blood out of things so don’t even worry about it

Let’s you wear all of his clothes and takes up doing the chores since you’re probably bloated and swelling

Kisses your cheek and forehead a lot if you’re not feeling well

Does anything you need to feel better

His guilty pleasure is when you’re on your period and are craving carbs because he really really loves carb loading but can’t do it often

Bagels, pasta, pizza, crackers, cinnamon rolls, anything carb

If you start running a fever he freaks out a bit but has enough experience to know you’re not dying

Puts an ice pack on your forehead and gets advil for you

Stocks up on ice cream if that’s your thing

Excuses himself and you from any galas and makes sure the paparazzi isn’t around

Probably threatens them or something who knows

Has one of his sisters come over to give you company if you need some girl time

If you want to you’ll 100% be welcomed to just sit in the bat cave during patrol and help monitor

The entire week or two is just Jason doting on you more than usual

He’d wrap you in a blanket burrito and carry you everywhere

Is very touchy when you don’t feel well so he latches himself onto you

Movie marathons

I watch Law and Order and lots of crime documentaries when I’m on my period for some reason and he’d 100% binge those

Has fuzzy socks for you

They’re probably funky colorful ones that he thought were funny and got them for you one day to cheer you up

Won’t let you talk bad about yourself

If you call yourself yuck or gross or fat or anything he’d smother you with his entire body

Not today Satan

Praises from him are the best let’s just keep it at that

[moonmunson]

electric touch - eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie hasn't had much luck with dates - not until you.

warnings: ppl being mean to eddie (only for a little bit!) and some discussion on eddie's penchant for kinda being used by the popular girls but there's so much fluff and some kissing at the end

word count: 2.8k

a/n: i started this when speak now tv came out and then completely abandoned it but she's my little brain child

When Eddie was in eighth grade, he spent a week rehearsing the best way to ask a girl out on a date. He practiced in the mirror every day, making sure to sound hopeful, but not desperate, eager, but not pushy. He’d almost given up and asked his Uncle for advice, but in case it didn’t go the way he wanted it to, he didn’t want Wayne to be waiting for an update. 

There was a new horror movie premiering in the theater downtown, and he’d heard that scary movies were the best to bring a girl to - because if she got scared, Eddie could put his arm around her and protect her from the fictional monsters. 

He never even got the chance to ask her. He’d tried, to be sure. Monday morning of the next week, when he’d worked up enough nerve, he walked up to the group of cheerleaders she was a part of, and didn’t even open his mouth before the group of girls ganged up on him - asking him what he wanted, calling him a freak, telling him to get away from them. Later, the girl he’d been pining after approached him - sans clique - and apologized on behalf of her friends. She didn’t feel the same as them, but she couldn’t ruin her “reputation.” They saw each other in secret for half a year before she got a boyfriend on the basketball team. Typical. It hurt Eddie more than he was comfortable admitting. 

Eddie doesn’t love referring to himself as a cynic, but the repetitive cycle of being used by popular girls for a night of fun - fulfilling their dream of sleeping with the town’s resident bad boy before never speaking to him again, exhausted Eddie to the point of declaring that true love was a capitalistic ruse created to sell laboratory made diamonds. It would never work out for him, and he convinced himself that he was okay with that. 

For the remainder of high school, Eddie continued to play the part. Rich kids invited him to ragers and tried to weasel their way out of paying full price for his weed, even though they were buying with daddy’s money, not their own. He hooked up with random popular girl after random popular girl, always leaving immediately and feeling like shit after. But at least he was getting laid, right?

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

Now, Eddie is sitting on the couch in his living room, meticulously arranging and rearranging Wayne’s automobile magazines that live untouched on the coffee table. Has there always been this much dust on them? He wasn’t sure, and the thought only offered a momentary distraction before the nerves swept him back into the electric current of anxiety running through his body.  

He’d already spent most of the past hour making sure there was no visible trash laying out in the open for you to see. He’d even gone so far as to make his room slightly presentable in case you wanted to go in. He wasn’t expecting anything - quite the opposite, actually. He was sure that you’d see the place he lives, turn around and walk out without giving him a chance, and never speak to him again. 

Logically, he knows that this won’t be the case. He knows that Dustin wouldn’t lie to him about your reciprocated interest. He’d spent the entire drive back to Eddie’s trailer for their Hellfire meeting trying to convince him that he saw how giddy his sister had been when she opened the door and saw him standing there. She’d known Eddie was coming to pick her younger brother up, and she’d put on mascara to greet him - as if Eddie truly knows enough about girls to take that as a surefire sign that you were excited to see him. Dustin hears you talking over the phone to your friends about him all the time, and he only shares with Eddie that what you say is positive - not wanting to disclose the nitty gritty. It’s not your fault that the walls of your adjoined rooms are thin, and your friends are loud. 

Still, Eddie is nervous. When he gave you his phone number under the assumption that you might want to call to check up on Dustin, he was shocked that you called days after the Hellfire meeting had ended, and Dustin had returned home. So shocked, in fact, that he wasn’t even the one who had answered the phone - Wayne was. When he’d heard the sweet lilt of your voice on the other side of the line, he’d practically shoved his uncle to grab hold of the phone. You sounded unsure saying hello to him - nervous and breathy and a little bit quiet, but not unenthusiastic - and Eddie knew that Dustin had been telling the truth. 

Eddie spoke to you for an hour that night before he worked up the nerve to ask if you might want to come over to watch a movie. “No funny business, just the sweet sight of David Bowie in tights that no other man would ever be able to pull off.” You’d giggled - a sound Eddie was determined to hear again - and asked how he knew that Labyrinth was your favorite movie. The truth was that he’d overheard Dustin complaining about how you chose it every time it was your turn to pick for family movie night, but he brushed off the question and said that he just “Had a feeling.” 

The sudden appearance of headlights beaming through the trailer window brings Eddie out of his reverie long enough to remember to wipe the dust from his hands onto his jeans. The sound of your car door opening and closing, and the crunch that your shoes make on the gravel pulls Eddie like a siren song from the couch to his trailer door, and the creaking of the wooden steps leading up to said door, has him pulling it open faster than he means to. 

You’re a vision of comfort. Of soft things. Of light wash jeans with no rips in them, of cardigans and sweaters and rose perfume. Your fist is raised in the air like you were about to knock, and for a moment, Eddie thinks this whole thing was a mistake. 

“Oh-”

“Sorry, I-”

There’s a beat of silence. The energy between the two of you is almost palpable - eyes wide and palms clammy - before he breaks the connection and moves out of the way for you to come in. He knows he can turn on the charm once you’re settled, but this has been the part he’s been dreading the most.

It doesn’t matter to his friends that he lives in a trailer. It doesn’t matter when there are beer bottles on the coffee table or old socks on the couch, he knows the guys won’t care. But as you step in, and your eyes begin to sweep over the small living room, the reality of his economic status has never felt bigger, or made him feel smaller. 

As he looks at you though, he notices the soft smile on your face. Taking stock of the collection of hats and mugs lining the walls, of the throw blanket laid over the top of the recliner. 

“The uh, the hats and stuff are my Uncle’s.”

“They’re really cool,” his eyes trace your movements as you walk along the edges of the room, arms at your sides, reading the puns and state names embroidered on them. “has he always collected them?”

Eddie makes his way to the couch, and sits - trying to direct his line of sight to the same ones you’re looking at. Trying to put himself in your shoes and guess what you might be thinking, but coming up short. 

“Wayne was a trucker for a few years,” you turn to look at him, to pay attention to what he’s saying. Eddie does a lot of stupid shit to get people to look at him, he knows that. It doesn’t matter that the expressions he receives the most often are sneers or ones of annoyance. Exasperation. But you look genuinely interested in what he has to say, and it throws him for a loop. “And then he got stuck with me, so he doesn’t really get to buy new ones anymore.”

“Stuck with you?”  

“I mean, yeah, kind of. It’s a long boring story,” Eddie claps his hands together and launches himself up and off of the couch, and you know to stop pushing. “Want the grand tour?” 

“Absolutely,” you nod. 

“Well, my lady,” you watch from your position by the recliner as he struts to the middle of the living room, puts his arms out horizontally at his sides, and bows deeply, “welcome to Castle Munson. The maid did actually remember to show up tonight.” 

“Oh yeah? She did an excellent job,” you huff out a laugh, and Eddie snaps back up to a vertical, a smile on his face that showcases the lines around his mouth. 

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

“Eddie? Can I ask you something?”

After giving you a short but enthusiastic tour of the main parts of the trailer and presenting you with the array of snacks he'd gotten for the movie, you both settled on the small couch in the living room. You'd had to resist the urge to curl up into his side, and instead curled up into the arm of the couch.

“Anything, sweets. Go for it.”

“How did you really know this was my favorite movie?”

“I’m psychic,” He taps his index finger to his temple a few times. “I didn’t tell you that?”

“Eddie.”

“Y/n.”

“I’m being serious!”

“So am I!” He matches your raised pitch - teasing, but not condescending - and you almost raise your hand to hit him on the shoulder, but you don’t know if you’ve reached that level of familiarity yet. 

“You don’t have to answer the question if you don’t want to. I’m not weirded out or anything - just curious. Honestly, I’m kind of like, flattered, I guess? I don’t know.” 

Had you overstepped? Eddie’s eyes flit over different things in the room in rapid succession, and he exhales - you can almost see the cogs turning in his head - like he doesn’t know whether to keep joking or offer a moment of true vulnerability. You don’t think the latter comes naturally to him. 

“I heard Dustin complaining to Wheeler that you always pick it for family movie night. It seems like the kind of thing you’d like. Very dreamy and hazy, that kinda thing.” Eddie shrugs and looks off to the side, trying and failing to put on an air of nonchalance, but his tinted cheeks suggest otherwise.

“Is that how you think of me? Dreamy and hazy?” You duck your head to try and meet his gaze, and when he turns to look at you, you think it’s the first time you’ve ever truly seen him. The boyish, innocent version of him that he doesn’t allow to rise to the surface all that often. His charm is still there, and bright as ever, but you can see the uncertainty in the way he struggles to keep his eyes on yours. 

“Maybe. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all.” The smile that graces your features is so easy and genuine that Eddie has no choice but to beam his own right back at you. 

You settle into an easier silence for the remainder of the movie, save for the comments the both of you share. You think it’s especially funny when Eddie compares The Fireys playing volleyball with their own heads to a “Muppet snuff film on acid.” When it’s over, he grabs a few Dr. Peppers from the fridge and asks if you want to smoke with him before you head back home. You decline, because driving while high makes you nervous, but you don’t mind sitting with him for a bit longer. 

“Plus, there’s one more room I haven’t given you the tour for, if you’re interested…”

“I get to see the King’s quarters?”

“More like the dungeon,” he gestures to himself, still clad in his Hellfire shirt, “but yeah, totally.”

“Lead the way then, dungeon master.” 

He looks behind himself to see if you’re following, and extends his hand back so you can hold onto it. It’s not like you’re gonna get lost - the hallway is less than ten feet, but it gives you an excuse to finally touch without overthinking it. Eddie doesn't care to ask whether the jolt of static he feels when your hands meet for the first time is because of your shuffling socks on the carpet or the nervous current running between the two of you. Guessing by the way you suck in a soft breath - one he could barely hear - he doesn’t think you care either. 

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

“All I’m saying is Jareth’s a weirdo for wanting a whiny sixteen year old to be his queen.” Eddie is laying on his stomach, legs bent at the knee and ankles crossed in the air. When you’d entered his room, he’d shown you his favorite things before quickly ushering you to get comfortable on the bed. He said that he needed to have an in depth conversation about the movie you’d just watched. 

“The age gap is bad for sure, and she is whiny, I totally get what you’re saying, but-” You’re sitting across from him, elbows resting on your criss-crossed legs. 

“But? Y/n. Are you about to defend him?”  

“Let me finish!” You giggle and Eddie swears that he can feel it in his chest - another spark. 

“I cannot let you finish if you’re about to say what I think you’re gonna say. Morally. Ethically. I cannot let you finish.” In true dramatic Munson fashion, he sweeps his hands in front of him, palm facing out for you to see. He’s almost pouting, lips folded in and corners turned down.  

“What I’m trying to say,” you look pointedly at him to see if he’s going to interrupt again, “is that I think that his proposition isn’t so bad when you really think about it.”

“Well now I have to hear your reasoning behind this.” 

“Think about it. He’s offering her literally anything she could possibly desire, and all she has to do is love him back.” 

“Oh that’s all? I think you’re forgetting the part where he says she has to obey his every whim or whatever the fuck.” Eddie fights the urge to change his tone from teasing to serious - his heart twinging at the idea of making you uncomfortable. 

“You don’t think that love is enough? Or that maybe all love has a level of devotion attached to it?”

“I think my idea of love is too fucked to give you a real answer.” He’s refusing to look at you - gaze directed towards his ringed hands fiddling with the metal tab of the soda can, eyebrows furrowed. 

“I could fix that, if you wanted - make it all dreamy and hazy for you.” 

Eddie can feel the wires in his brain short circuit. In the back of his mind somewhere, he knows that he only has a few seconds to respond before you start to think that maybe you said something wrong, but he can’t seem to reconnect in time. All he manages is an out of breath - 

“Yeah?” 

“If you wanted, yeah,” you nod, like you’ve decided something, and slowly reach to pull his hand from the soda can - taking it with you and setting it down on the crowded bedside table. “I think you deserve it.” 

“Really?” He’s looking at your joined hands, but he doesn’t wrap his fingers around yours. Not yet. 

“Yeah, Eddie. Really.” 

His fingers finally wrap around yours as you pull him from his position on his stomach to lean over you - rising onto his knees and walking on them before planting his arms on either side of your torso. He can feel your breath, soft against his cheeks as he leans in and connects his lips to yours - once, twice, three times. 

That same sparky feeling that Eddie has been getting in his chest all night finally rumbles to life. Like a car being hotwired, he can practically feel your hands pulling wires he thought were long dead and breathing life back into them - rubbing them together until the spark catches and the engine starts. 

“That was-” You pull away slightly to look up at him, lovesick and dopey. 

“Dreamy? Hazy? I think those are two words I would definitely-”

You laugh, already pulling his face back towards yours. 

“Shut up and kiss me again, Munson.”

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

a/n: ahh! thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed this story please like and reblog i would appreciate it endlessly !!!

[maudie-duan]

Summary: What happens when the man you've loved since childhood decides he's ready to settle down, but it turns out you are no longer his forever. How would you cope with the sudden engagement? For Blair, it's a hard pill to swallow, knowing that the beautiful girl smiling in all his pictures will get her forever. I guess it's a blue Christmas this year.

A/N: I have to make a confession: I hate Christmas music, but the first time I heard Sabrina Carpenter's 'Cindy Lou Who' I knew this was my kind of Christmas song. I love a sad song, and this song feeds my "angsty soul," So please give it a listen before you read. This whole story is my interpretation of the song. Hope you like it. Happy Holidays enjoy!!!!

Requests: Here

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Mentions of Sex, Strong Angst and Langue, Family Dynamics, Mentions of Pregnancy, Heartbreak.

 I don’t think sneaking my ex-boyfriend out of my parent’s house is the best look for anyone on Christmas morning, but technically, it’s still Christmas Eve if you haven’t gone to sleep yet, right?

To be fair, he was the one knocking on my window, stumbling his way to my bed. Casually, bringing up the past, circling back to things I thought I had already unpacked with my best friend after I scrolled his girlfriend’s social media, backtracking five years.

To be honest, she had me borderline obsessed.

He made his way to my bed and in between my legs, touching places and sharing space in the best way we knew how, and that’s the funny thing about having history.

Sometimes it makes it harder to say no when it’s knowingly what you want the second they step foot into a place that once served as a sanctuary to you both—a garden where words weaved trust that turned into secrets, carving out a space of our very own; a world that we created and while he wasn’t my first kiss he was everything else.

I’ve lost track of how many times our words of forever were passed between our mouths, tangled in shared breaths of “I swear until the day I die, I’m yours.” 

When you’re young, you believe it because it’s all you have—and we took that with us when we thought we were ready for the world—two foolish kids on an endeavor to forge these grown-up dreams of a grand gesture without a second thought, only relying on the word “love,” like love could weather any storm.

The hardest lesson we learned was that love isn’t always enough. Sometimes, you can love someone with all your being and forget that they’re not a possession—but a person. Was that our mistake? I don’t know, but we wanted to be our own people at some point and find ourselves outside of only identifying as “we.” 

Let me tell you, that’s a hard pill to swallow, and from time to time, I still find myself choking on it, especially when it is obvious we still click—we didn’t need sex to know that we still worked. That we still fit together like a puzzle that had been forgotten and dusted off, only to find that you still had every single piece. 

Still, when Harry tried to kiss me goodbye, I pulled away.

“Hey—what is it…tell me?” he asks

“Nothing…it’s just late. You know how my mom is about Christmas morning.” I lie because the reality of his leaving is starting to sink in. I’m not ready for him to leave, but we both knew that there would be an ending to this.

He laughs, attempting to shrug his jacket on, and I glimpse the joy of the familiar memory dance across his features, “Yeah, she can be kind of crazy, right?”

“Yeah—but not any crazier than your mom,” I laugh. 

“Hey now—actually…you know they kind of feed off each others crazy…” He says, fighting to find the sleeve of his jacket and when I reach to help, something falls from his pocket, a loud thud clashing against the hardwood floor, and I look down, thinking he knocked something off my shelf.

 But then I see it.

We both stare at the ground, a small box lying in the space between us, “You shouldn’t have…” I joke, bending down.

Looking back now, I don’t know what I was thinking.

You know this tends to happen when you rely on your wit to get you out of awkward situations. I thought it would be cute and clever. I would open the box, and it wouldn’t be exactly what I knew it was—a ring, but not just any ring—the ring.

“Hey—hey—hey…give me that,” He jokes, trying to turn it into a game, but I’m in too deep to give it up. I can only focus on getting a peek at the ring, which is now a broken promise, and right this second, I’m desperate enough to open this box—basque in the feeling of the “what if” this was mine.

I turn away, shoving his hand out of the way, compulsively straining to get a look at this ring, immediately getting aggressive when he tries to reach over my shoulder. “Stop Harry—” I urge.

“Come on, Blair—this isn’t funny…” He says, unamused, but he’s too late, and as I shove my elbow into his ribs, the box is flipping open, the glint of the diamond catching the light of the moon shining through the window. He stops then because what’s the use, right? Here it is—the ring—perfect, everything I would have wanted. It’s almost like a slap in the face, like he looked back on one of the many pictures I sent over the years, thinking one day this would be me. 

The ring is stunningly beautiful. There is so little light yet it’s drawn to every facet; immaculate, precise cuts creating the perfect sparkle. There is nothing humble about it, but nothing seems to be humble about him anymore, including his life choices—and here I am, holding my breath, afraid to move, listening to his flustered exhale when I slam the box closed, a loud clap shut. 

Without a word, I nudge him away from me, “Blair, listen—I was going to tell you…”

“When—? Before or after we had sex, Harry…Is that what this was?” I yell.

He panics and cups a hand over my mouth. It’s not hard, but it annoys the hell out of me, and I wrench his arm away, forcing him toward the window, “Don’t you fucking do that—you don’t get to do that—”

“I’m sorry—but seriously, Blair, let’s not wake your family,”

I let out a dry laugh, “Oh—trust me, they would understand—” I seeth.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Blair, that’s not fair—I don’t know what this was…I just really wanted to see you—” he says, raking a hand through his hair, a deep crease forming between his brows, and he licks his lips, running a hand down his face as he turns away.

“What do you want me to do? This is the way it’s supposed to work out. You know my family …I don’t really have a say. You know that—”

“Please—Harry—you’re almost 30 years old. You don’t think you have any say in your life?”

He turns around, a condescending laugh filling the space, “You of all people should understand…”

“Well—I thought I did…but I don’t think I do anymore. It just doesn’t make sense…none of this seems to make sense anymore. I don’t understand how we could be perfectly fine one day, and as soon as your dad put you on the path to be a partner at his firm—which we both knew would happen—” I start.

He shakes his head, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, contemplating my words, “Help me make it; make sense. When we knew all along what the path was going to be. Where did “WE” get lost because I did nothing but support you, and then you went away on that trip with your family—”

“And you’re on about this again…” he interrupts, words cutting like knives because this was the theme of some of our biggest arguments.

I’m shaking my head this time, confusion inching through my brain, straining to grasp for details I thought I packed away. “Now that’s not fair…” I force, my throat burning with the effort of biting back tears. 

“Listen—this is my fault—” he says, reaching for the box, “I shouldn’t have come. I knew this would be a bad idea, but I just—”

I grasp onto the box, wanting to catch his eyes. I want to see the regret, “Tell me, does it hurt you, hurting me…I could have waited for your mom’s Facebook post…I know she’s over the moon with her…just fucking smitten that’s she’s everything and more—”

“I should go,” he says, his eyes darting to the window before he slides the box into his pocket. He opens the window, and the cold breeze flits into the dark room, reminding me of how little I have on. My eyes float to the bed, already mourning us like a fading memory—disappointment crawling up my spine, the sick twist of regret already tearing at my emotions as tears fill my eyes.

“Yeah, this was a bad idea…” I tell him, choking on the words, and I can feel my body starting to tremble. I want him gone, forever, to leave and be with his girlfriend, who will get him in the daylight. Who will kiss the mouth of the man I love for the rest of her life—and I’m sick—sick with the thought of them—and damn—This was easier when there was distance when I could pretend he didn’t exist.

“I’m sorry, bee—” He whispers, a slight trimmer in his voice as he reaches out to me, and let him because if this is all that is left. I want that last kiss. I want a kiss from the lips that were once mine, but when he pulls me in, I reach for his face, and he interjects, grasping my hands in his, denying me my one last wish.

“Harry…” I whisper, hot tears burning my eyes, “It’s just you and me right now…” I plead because he has that look of goodbye in his eyes; the reality setting in, like me standing here in his old tee-shirt, is too real for him—The cold draft of the air brings the world in with it. Yes, I feel it too, but his hands are so warm, his face is so sweet and kind, and I know what he’s about to do.

“Bee—” He tries, swallowing hard, like the words are stuck in his throat, tears drawing in his eyes, and he rubs his lips together, shaking his head as his eyes dart to our hands, and I grip his hands harder because he’s going to leave.

He’s going to leave, and I’m never going to get him back.

 This man—the love of my life. 

There’s never a time he hasn’t had me, and he’s going to leave, he’s going to move on, and he will still have me because I could never let him go.

And when the tears spill over and fall down his cheeks, my body aches with a longing that’s so deep in my bones it hurts—my love for him hurts so fucking bad that I don’t think I’ll ever not love him or not want to be with him. He’s standing here breaking my heart all over again, and I still love him. I still want him always and forever like he fucking promised me because he did promise, and now she gets him; she gets to have my always and forever.

Now he’s pulling away, and I won’t let him go; I can’t let him go. 

“Bee…please…” he begs softly.

“I love you,” I cry out, “I love you so much, H—” and he pulls me into his body, letting me sob into his chest, my hot breath seeping into his body, and I breathe him in, trying to memorize our scent, but it’s there like muscle memory something I could never forget.

“You know I love you, Bee…” he breathes, pressing a warm kiss to the top of my head, “You know I will always love you, but you know that we can never do this again…”

His words slice through my pain, filling me with rage, and he’s right. We can’t do this ever again; he doesn’t get to have me like this and go back to her—and I’m so fucking mad at myself for falling into his trap because I’ve been so good. I can’t even remember the last time I talked to him. He knew what would happen when he knocked on my window, and I was so stupid to let him—yet here he is still wielding his power. 

“You have to go,” I tell him, trying to force myself from his arms, and Harry’s grip tightens.

“I’m sorry, Bee—”

“No—this was wrong—this was all wrong, and you shouldn’t have done this…we shouldn’t have done this—”

I push him toward the window, angry adrenaline a trimmer in my fingertips when I bring a shaky hand up to tuck my hair behind my ear, “You did this to us…” I tell him.

“I’m—” he starts, and I know he’s just going to try and apologize, but that will never be enough, not when I know what happens next—and what? Did he use me? Did he feel sad and come looking for my sympathy?

“Leave—” I spit.

“Bee…come on—”

“Leave!” I say louder, loud enough to send an echo through the room. He stiffens, his panic reaching his face, and I cross my arms over my chest.

“Fine—” he hisses, his hair falling into his face as he bends his body halfway through the window. Harry doesn’t even look back; he doesn’t even give me a tiny morsel of hope, and I don’t know what I was expecting. Then Harry is out the window, and I slam it shut, swiping the curtains closed.

“Merry fucking Christmas, you Asshole…” I breathe, falling onto the bed to cry. 

…

Here’s the thing about Christmas in my house: we wake up and celebrate, and nothing else is allowed. It’s the one time of the year when my mom is allowed to live in the delusion that everything is merry and bright. There’s no space to be sad. She’s up with the rising sun, her hair perfectly manicured, her make-up set for pictures, wrapped in a festive robe she just “rolled out of bed” in, and then she’s on to two more outfit changes. 

So this morning, when I woke, ready to welcome her joyful cheer, I was surprised to see none. 

I found her standing at the sink, my dad leaning against the counter like I had just interrupted a fight, maybe some disagreement they didn’t want me part of. My first thought was that they knew. They saw Harry leaving, or maybe my voice had carried, and they heard me arguing with him.

It was like being a teenager all over again as I walked toward the coffee maker to pour myself a cup. Without fail, the clink of the dish against the stone countertop ricochets through the thick silence in the room, making me jumpy; the slurp of the pour interrupted when my mom speaks.

 “All I’m going to say is let’s get through this day. I don’t want to talk about it. We can call all touch base once everyone is gone—Bee, will you stay longer this time or not?” 

I’m in the midst of taking a sip, and the hot liquid hits my top lip, burning me as my eyes move from my dad to my mom in question, confused by whatever this is that I walked in on, “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay longer…I have a project—”

“Can you—?” she asks flatly like you better say “yes.” 

I look to my dad, who raises his brows, eyes widening, and he blows out a breath, his lip puffing as he brings his coffee to his mouth, “Fine.” I answer because it doesn’t seem like there’s any other option.

And that was it—She switched up her mood as quickly as the conversation ended. I stood there sipping my coffee, mentally preparing, and that’s how we carried on, pushing it under the rug.

It started with presents, each gift given its proper praise, mom all smiles, dad snapping pictures, my sister nudging my shoulder as a constant reminder to keep up the show, and it was perfect—it was— but every time the camera flashed. I could feel myself drifting to the thought of all the pictures that would greet me when I opened my phone

How her red lips and long dark hair would steal my breath, her beauty outshining us all. 

She became the jealous quake in my bones at the thought of Harry down on one knee, entrancing my thoughts, repeatedly threatening to pull me out of the moment—and now my mom is shouting from across the room, bidding for my attention, as I try and swallow the persistent lump burning a hole in my throat, making every word a battle of will to say the most straight-forward sentence

 It wasn’t fair; It wasn’t fair that I got to sit with it all day—a reel of memories cascading through my mind, always the slightest reminder to remind me of the past.

The smallest gestures, a deep-seeded pain strangling my insides; all my dad had to do was glance down at his watch. The watch Harry gave him when he turned forty or every time my mom tucked her hair behind her ear, I caught sight of the diamond earrings he got her and his mom, making them both laugh the last Christmas we all shared because that was our thing—it almost doesn’t seem real that our moms used to be best friends, nowadays it feels like a lifetime since they even shared one word, my mom growing bitter the day Harry broke my heart.

A sudden breakup can wreck anyone, and inherently, our families became the collateral damage, causing a complicated ripple through us all, a rigid divide that none of us knew how to address, let alone manage any semblance of a relationship; maybe that was our fault. I couldn’t be his friend. It hurt too much to try and mask my feelings, to manipulate them into something they weren’t, like right now—how I’m torturing myself, scrolling through social media, almost hoping I’ll see the pictures I know his mom will post. 

Perhaps it will be what I need; to rip the bandaid off, the right push I need to fucking move on because I don’t know how much longer I can live in the misery of what was and wasn’t.

Disassociating.

The word of the day—a single word that could describe my whole day because somehow it’s dinner, and I’m sitting around the table trying to piece together the lapse in time I’ve lost.

 All it takes is one look at my mom to straighten up and be present. I don’t even know what they’re talking about, nor do I care, but when my cousin Jenny asks me to pass the potatoes, and the light captures the glint of her new engagement ring, my stomach drops, the hideous ache of jealousy climbing up my spine, and I’m sick again, my stomach turning at the thought, that maybe he’s already done it, maybe he’s asked her and she’s wearing his ring on her finger, and they’re sitting around the table; and every time she takes a bite it reflects the light from the chandelier, everyone smiling because what a happy time, what a perfect day.

What a bright fucking future they have.

This time, I can’t control it; it’s all too much, and I’m scraping the chair back, politely excusing myself, then bound to the upstairs bathroom, yanking my phone from my pocket—and without a passing thought, I’m doing it—I’m calling Harry—by the first ring, I’m in panic mode, pacing back and forth, willing myself to end the call, trying to keep the phone from sliding down my sweaty palm.

I’m all adrenaline as I force the phone against my ear, the ring getting louder, and each time it rings, a gnarled knot of guilt builds in the depth of my belly. I keep looking to the toilet on the verge of falling to my knees and heaving anything that made its way to my stomach—then Harry forwards the fucking call to voicemail, and tears are spilling over my lids, my whole body hot, like maybe I’ll combust right here, explode with the fury of heat rising in my body.

I’m surprising myself when I press his name again, bringing the phone back to my ear, and I hold my breath, waiting for the first ring. It rings and then rings again, and by the third ring, I think I might get through—and it’s all a joke because yeah fucking right—By the fifth ring, I’m second-guessing myself again, shame eating away at my flesh, and then he’s forwarding the call again—my shame flying out the window.

Okay, yes, maybe this is the part where I tell you I should be embarrassed—but fuck it, I’m calling again, losing myself a little more each time he forwards my call. 

By the 8th call, I’m tormenting myself, a pitiful excuse of a human on the ground so caught up in my own grief that I don’t even hear my sister knocking on the door. The knock sounds, making my heart leap in my chest, the fear of being caught ripping through like an earthquake, and I’m up, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror, not even recognizing the person looking back at me. 

I haven’t felt this desperate since we broke up, like an anxious tick buzzing under my skin. The humiliation of it all is a time bomb, counting down the seconds until it ignites inside me—and I’m there. I ignore the steady stream of knocks and crouch down like the monster I’ve become because I can’t look at myself and do what I know I’m about to do—it’s my one last stance, and I shoot Harry a text:

“Your a fucking coward!” I send and then realize I used the wrong fucking “your,” and my pride won’t let me go out like this. I send a quick “you’re” to fix my mistake and watch the screen, knowing he is now more aware of his than before. When the line changes from “delivered” to “read,” I watch the tiny dots collect in the corner of the screen, awaiting his reply.

They appear and disappear several times until it finally stops altogether, and he leaves me on read.

Just as I’m about to send “fuck you!” my sister opens the door, pushing the bobby pin she used to pick the lock back into her hair, and closes the door behind her. “Dude, whatever is going on right now—you need to get it together—it’s one fucking day, okay…that’s all mom asks for, and she’s down there growing impatient. So seriously…if you’re up here freaking out about another dude you met on a dating app—like this isn’t the time—”

“I had sex with Harry—” I confess right then and there because I know this will be the only thing that will make her understand.

“No—” she says, pulling a handful of toilet paper from the roll, “We’re not doing this right now…” She wipes the tears from my face and forces me out of the bathroom and into my room.

“You have two minutes to get your shit together. I need Mom to be in a good mood today…listen, I have big shit going on too, but you don’t see me up here crying—” and she’s right. I saw her pregnancy test in our shared bathroom trash. She must have been panicked when she half-assed her wrapping job on her test. I know I taught her better than that, but this was what I needed to pull myself back up.

I came down the stairs with a smile. 

Everyone in the sitting room was having coffee and dessert; this was the last stretch. This is all we had left, and then I could check my phone that my sister made me leave upstairs—and so I would drone on keeping up with conversations, tossing out witty remarks, bringing laughter and joy to everyone around, and when my mom sent me a genuine smile, I felt myself smiling back, enjoying the company of my family; and when dad slipped me the “good” eggnog, I realized that there’s nothing better at taking the edge off then alcohol.

Four eggnogs in on an empty stomach, and I was working the room, exaggerating about my life and all the projects I’ve taken on at work, dodging questions about my dating life, and when my grandma brought up Harry four times, dammit, I didn’t even flinch, I just kept the conversation moving, filtering out the emotions coursing through me like a breeze on a sunny day, right before a summer storm sets in. I even kept it cute and classy when cousin Jen took her engagement ring on a tour around the room, gutting me like a fish when she said, “I never thought I would get married before you…you know…like you and Harry were like “it” you know—” and I’m smiling again, getting a nod of approval from mom when she hears me congratulate Jen again, admiring her beautiful ring.

By eggnog five, I’m switching to “what he’s having,” I shout to my dad as I watched him pour, maybe whisky over the rocks, a shallow pour, but it packed a punch.

 I knew it was time to dial it back when I found myself leaning over Jenny, who was flipping between her social platforms, landing on Facebook, where I know for a fact Harry’s mom would be posting, taking care to tag everyone in each photo—which brings me back to the time when dear ole’ cousin Jenny started following Harry. It was Christmas break, we had just turned fifteen, and I could tell she had a crush on him. She spent all Christmas break following us around, cornering him anytime she could get him alone; I had to share my bed with her that Christmas, and I remember how miserable I was without the gift of Harry crawling through my window on Christmas Eve.

It’s wild to think of how feeble my grasp on time was when we were young, how a couple of weeks could feel like an eternity; it’s been less than a day since I saw him last. How am I supposed to go a lifetime of never hearing his voice again, to not look into those green eyes that have seen me through so many changes, not to feel those hands that have cradled me like a child, held me like a lover, squeezing and pulling me into shapes that fit him; arms that carried and lifted me to heights that I could never have reached on my own.

Maybe I’m speaking figuratively because no one has carried me at my worst or lifted me at my best until I was the best version of myself, but isn’t funny how the people that bring out our best know exactly how to rally the worst parts of us.

Mom taps her dessert spoon to her glass, grabbing everyone’s attention. It’s time for her big send-off speech. My eyes dart to my sister leaning against the fireplace, rolling her eyes, “I just want to start by saying I’m so thrilled that you’ve all chosen to spend this joyous holiday with us…you all know this is my absolute favorite holiday and every year I look forward to spending it with each and every one of you—” she tells us raising her glass, and everyone knows what’s coming next and as she starts her final lines— the same lines she uses every year—my sister sends me a wink mouthing the lines in unison with our mother.

“There’s no time like Christmas to let you know how appreciated you are. I feel honored to call you family…” and her hook, line, and sinker is, “May the light of Christmas warm your hearts this holiday season and remember love is the true spirit of Christmas—” 

My throat burns as she finishes, “And always know how much I love you and always will…so before I start getting too emotional, I better cut myself off—” she laughs, wiping a tear from her eye, and as much as I hate how crazy she gets about Christmas, she really is amazing at being so selfless; to give everyone such a beautiful day, and I’m so grateful for her and my family, and then the doorbell rings taken everyone by surprise.

 We all freeze, eyes moving around the room because we’re all here, and no one is expecting anyone.

“Fred—” my mom calls to my dad. “Are we expecting anyone else?” 

My dad’s reaction is slow, but he launches himself from the chair and excuses himself. When he comes back, he looks bewildered, half-tipsy as he shrugs his shoulders to tell us no one was there—and that was that. No one blinked an eye—yet my first thought was Harry, and I felt myself slipping because the whole day had passed; certainly, theirs was over by now, and the thought had me breaking my own heart, picturing her in his old bed, the whole family tucked away in their rooms, still riding out the high of such a magically joyful day.

And she’ll kiss his lips and say, “I love you.” He’ll lay her down in the bed I gave myself to him in, and he’ll make love to her like he loved me last night, and there is no end; there’s no end to the torture of it all because how can one person fuse themselves to every fiber of my being—and more importantly how could I still allow it?

As the last guest passed our threshold, Mom, being the gracious host she was, sent them off with candies and cookies, and I stood there wishing I was more like her, like my sister, who could always pretend, who knew how to wear “the smile” like a badge of honor.

 I wondered why this all had to be so hard. Why is love all or nothing? Why can’t we flip a switch and “poof,” it’s gone?

I watched my mom close the door, my siblings dispersing, and my dad already making his way back to his chair, but my mom just stood there. She let out a heavy sigh, her once-perfect posture decompressing as she held on to the doorknob.

 “Oh Bee—” she said, eventually turning around to face me, and suddenly it looked like the weight of the day had finally caught up to her beautiful features, now tired—a mournful pinch between her brows, pursuing her lip while her eyes roamed my face. I’m trying my hardest to keep it together because there is something about that look a mom can give, that “I can fix everything with a hug” look.

“Do you need anything…I didn’t sleep very well last night. I was thinking of calling it early. if that’s okay?” I ask

“Oh honey, don’t worry about it…it’s been a long day for everyone,” she states, unbuttoning the first two buttons of her silk blouse, that mournful look still lacing her features.

“Let’s just deal with the clean up tomorrow…sound good, baby?” she tells me, slinging an arm around my shoulder, “I know today was hard for you…Thank you for being such a good sport. I’m so proud of the way you handled yourself. You did a beautiful job, sweetie.”  Her words catch me off guard, and I turn to face her, my throat burning at the thought that she knows everything.

I swallow hard, opening my mouth to let out the words building up, but I can only manage a small whimper. “Listen, honey,” Mom starts, and I’m already a puddle in her arms, wanting my mommy to make it all better.

“I’m not going to lie and say it gets better, but one day, it’s not going to hurt as bad as it hurts right now, and eventually, when you find someone new—” 

I gasped out a sob then, her words hitting every sore spot on my body, “Shhh—Shh—I know baby, I know—but listen,” She said, cradling my face in her hands, “I know that this isn’t what you want to hear—”

“But one day you will find someone new, and they’ll be just enough to get you over that last slump of pain, and maybe if you’re lucky enough…which I know you are…Harry will become a pleasant memory of the past, baby, because both of you were so lucky to have what you had. Not everyone will get to say they had a love like the two of you shared, and that is so so special, honey, so special—”

The tears are rolling down my cheeks faster than my mom can swipe them away, and it’s taking every ounce of strength I have to keep myself upright, “I love him so much—” I push past the sob, shuttering through me.

“I know, honey, I know—one of the hardest lessons we can learn is to let the people we love go, let them go so they can be free, and if it’s meant to be, they’ll come back—”

“I can’t, Mom, I can’t do it,” I cry, trying to bury my face into her shoulder, but she has a firm grip on it. Blair Marie, you are so strong, honey, and we are all here for you. You can do this, okay?” she says, nodding her head up and down.

“Okay?” She asks again, and I nod in agreement, “Listen—between you and me, we’re going to have our hands full anyway, right? Don’t think I don’t know about your sister—she’s next.”

I’m stunned into silence. “Yeah, I know. That’s how I felt at first. Honey, I love you. I am here for you. Now go get some rest…” she says, pushing me toward the stairs.

“Oh—and hopefully, we aren’t expecting any unexpected guests this evening….”

I shake my head, “I—” 

“Yeah, slamming your window at the crack of dawn is a dead give away—”

Somehow, she manages to get a smile out of me, and I roll my eyes, ready to make my way up the stairs, “Hey, Mom, thank you for making today so beautiful…it really was beautiful.” I tell her.

“Oh—! And Mom, thank you for those kind words. I love you.” she smiles, placing a hand over her heart, and we share a look of knowing—and without a doubt, that woman managed to lift my spirits—again. 

She’s too good at that; she is father fucking Christmas.

And while my heart still felt heavy, I felt like I could get through this night. I would march into my room, head straight for my phone, and turn it off; there would be no doomsday scrolling. 

I would take a shower, hell maybe even take a hot bath to rid myself of this day—Maybe I would even start packing away everything in my childhood room that reminded me of him, set myself up for the next year, and seriously, it was amazing how quickly the motivation surged up my chest; almost bursting at the seams with the very thought of it.

So by the time I turned my knob, I was ready, so fucking ready—But as the door clicked open, a cold chill grazed over my wrist. All I saw was my curtains billowing back and forth with the breeze flowing in and out of my window, and I rushed over to shut the damn window because I didn’t remember opening it, but maybe my sister opened it while I was fixing my make up earlier and that’s when I hear it:

“Bee—” 

I slam the window shut, panic rushing through me, every limb on my body shaking with it as I turn toward the sound. And there he is, the love of my life, sitting on the edge of my bed, hunched over with his face buried in his hands, and when he looks up. I can tell he’s been crying, and he pulls a small box from his pocket and places it on the nightstand, right next to the very same box that held his future, and all he says is, “I couldn’t do it—”

[babyjinsu]

[r/situationships] i don't know where i stand with this girl.

PAIRING ⟢ sohee lee x fem!reader

GENRE ⟢ reddit au, social media au, friends(?) to lovers, fluff, crack, written

SYNOPSIS ⟢ a confused boy wants to know if it is still 'just friends' if you do non-friends things with a supposedly "only friend" on r/situationships.

FEATURING ⟢ wonbin, seunghan, & anton of riize

CHAPTERS ⟢002 003

STATUS ⟢ completed! (16.02.25)

💭 one of my favourite trope :( clueless boy.. i can't think of any other member besides sohee for this!! my ddori.. <3 pls enjoy n lmk ur thoughts! xoxo

[r/situationships] i don't know where i stand with this girl. posted by u/ddori • 7h ago

hey everyone. this will sound kinda embarrassing but i (21M), hv been talking to this girl (21F) from my finance class for a while now (like 4 months..?), and honestly, i hv nooo idea what we are. i know for sure we're definitely more than friends, at least to me, thats how it feels like.

we met through a mutual friend, and from there we kinda just go with the flow. we hold hands sometimes, she lets me stay over her place (just sleeping, nothing else, but on the same bed or couch), and she invites me to go places with her-- sometimes doing nothing at all, we just spend a lot of time together. ive nvr had this kind of closeness with someone of the opposite gender and still are just friends... we've nvr had a real convo abt what we're doing (to each other).

as far as i know, and from her friends, shes not seeing anyone else, or treats anyone the way she does to me. and im definitely not seeing anyone either. (i want her so bad)

its messing with my head because i really really like this girl. i want to believe that she likes me too, with how shes treating me but i dont know if she just sees me as a really close friend, or if shes waiting for me to make a move. i dont think shes playing with my feelings or whatnot. hopefully.

ive heard plenty of things about this phenomenon called "situationship" and by the looks (and sound) of it, ITS HORRIBLE. this girl is really nice and the people she surround herself with are really amazing, and ik that they always call their friends out on mistakes. so i'm pretty sure she's not that type of girl.

but still, is this what they call a situationship? is this how it feels like to be in one? is it called so because youre in a situation?? i feel so stuck and i dont know where i stand in her life. what do i do?

Top Comments:

[u/financiallybroke] bro if you're confused, you're in a situationship. it's plain and simple. sounds like she enjoys your company with how she includes you in her daily life but without a real conversation, you're just guessing where you stand in each others' lives.

[u/ddori OP replying to u/financiallybroke] damn,, i don't like the whole idea or concept of situationship :/ it's ridiculous n just cruel tbh?

[u/illfated] there are two takes on this. either youre in a situationship, or shes waiting for you to bring it up. if she wanted you to be her boyfriend, she would either say it or drop hints. itll be better for you to ask IMO. stop wasting time op!

[u/mahjongpro99] been there n got my heart broken. learned it the hard way that if they wanted to make it official, you'll know. moreover, you guys have mutual friends, they'd AT LEAST know if she's into you.

[u/ddori OP replying to u/mahjongpro99] hhh one time they teased and asked if we we're dating, and neither she or i denied. we just laughed along, and she even joked and asked if i want to-- to which i just replied with another laugh because surely shes just joking?

[u/honeymaiden] i was in her shoes and i kept waiting and waiting, and hoping he'd say something or even asked about us. i wanted the guy to confess first, actually telling me that he likes me instead of flirting like we were doing, but he never did so we stayed in limbo until things died down. don't let that happen to either of you, just be honest op. she might like u too, and if not, at least yk better.

[u/L_user] my 'ex' treated me exactly like this. we even did IT, celebrated valentines and dinner dates, did everything like couples did, but when i finally brought it up, she hit me with "oh, i thought we're just really close friends!" like the fuck lmfao. if you dont want to end up feeling like a clown, or embarrass yourself any further, ask her before you get even more attached.

[u/cgpa40 replying to u/L_user] second this. don't invest too much time and effort without knowing ur returns. u deserve clarity op.

[u/ddori OP replying to u/cgpa40] thanks guys. ill try bringing it up when i see her. sorry that happened to u though!

[u/tapiocapearl] hi OP. i'm a girl and this sounds like something girls do when they have a crush on someone, but is too scared to make the first actual move (besides including you in her activities). sometimes we need reassurance, like a proper green light that you like LIKE us.

[u/ddori OP replying to u/tapiocapearl] thanks! feels nice to read another comment from another girl. will be meeting her soon so ill try asking.

[u/tapiocapearl replying to u/ddori OP] yeah! show her you want her seriously as a romantic partner, relationship wise and she'll probably meet you halfway. best of luck, lmk if i got it right or not!

💭 just realised (as i was doing the final proofread) that the comments section is longer than the story itself smiley faceee...

[jaredpadonlyyyy]

Could you make a fic where Sam and Fem!Reader finally get a motel room alone without Dean and enjoy the night?

𝙁𝙄𝙉𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙔 𝘼𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙀

• 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏, 𝙋𝙐𝙍𝙀 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏𝙏𝙔 𝘼𝙎𝙁

• 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝘿𝙊 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏 𝙄 𝙒𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝘾𝙆 𝙔𝙊𝙐.

• 𝙐𝙉𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙏𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙎𝙀𝙓 (𝘞𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴) 𝙁𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂, 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀 𝘿𝙄𝙍𝙏𝙔 𝙏𝘼𝙇𝙆, 𝙐𝙎𝙀 𝙊𝙁 𝙔/𝙉, 𝙋 𝙄𝙉 𝙑, 𝘼 𝙇𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙇𝙀 𝘽𝙄𝙏 𝙊𝙁 𝙁𝙇𝙐𝙁𝙁, 𝙈𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙇𝙔 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏.

𝙎. 𝙒𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙭 𝙔/𝙉

• 🎀 • • • • 🤍 • • • ✨ • • ✨ • • • 🤍 • • • • 🎀 •

Sam and Y/N had to get a room together because of the fact that Dean, wanted to bring a woman over to the room. So that left her and Sam alone in the room. It’s not that they minded. They had slept in the same bed. But lately. Sam and Y/N had, had some kind of attraction towards each other. She just couldn’t help the fact that he was handsome. She had eyes, she could clearly see how attractive the Winchester Boys are. But something about Sam’s personality draw her in. Y/N had known the boys since they were all kids.

Sam and Y/N were always best friends including Dean. But it was mostly both of them, since they were around the same age range. Dean is six years older than them. He was always with other girls as the best friends were left alone to be there for each other. Even though they were the bestest of friends. They shared their first kiss together to get it out of the way. That wasn’t the only thing they both had shared. They also lost their virginity’s to each other.

They were each other’s first in everything, but there was no kind of feelings that came from all of that. They had both thought it was better to be each other’s first. Then to be other people’s first, strangers at that. Both of them still remember that day like it was yesterday. After that day. They had done it a few more times. That was until Y/N had gotten her first boyfriend at the age of 16. They had to stop what they were doing. But that relationship lasted a week.

She placed her bag in the only bed in the room and she sighed. “They didn’t have another room with another bed?” She asked the tall hunter as he rolled his eyes. “What? You kick hard in your sleep.” She told him as he puts his duffle on the bed same as her. “Well, then I’ll sleep on the couch.” He shrugged his shoulders and she shook her head. “No way I’m going to let you do that.” She told him as she grabs her bag and walked into the bathroom to take a good shower after the hunt they had. She got undressed and stepped into the hot shower letting it hit her body as she sighs letting the stress from the hunt melt away from her body. After she was done. She dried herself and changed into her night clothes.

Which consisted of a very short pink satin nightgown with nothing underneath. She hated sleeping with anything that consisted of undergarments. Hated the feeling of not feeling comfortable when she slept. “You going to shower?” She asked him as he snaps out of his thoughts. Unbeknownst to her. His dirty thoughts about what’s underneath the nightgown.

Sam hasn’t gotten laid in a while and being alone with the woman he’s been in love with since he was a child. Where doing things to him. He just wanted to grab her and bend her over the table and fuck her until all the people in the motel knew his Sam and the way she screamed it. Sam shifted uncomfortably as he imagined that. So, he grabbed his bag and quickly walked into the bathroom as he hid the problem he had going on in his pants. Closing the door he groans

Y/N and Sam laid on the bed with the lights off, but they weren’t able to fall asleep.

After a while Sam and Y/N turn to face each other and they sighed. “This is this suddenly weird for us?” She asked Sam as he lightly chuckled. Sam reached over and pulled her hair behind her ear as she closed her eyes. Y/N felt the bed rustling and she opened her eyes watching as Sam got closer to her, she did nothing to move. Sam closed the gap between them and places his soft lips on hers as he softly had his hand on her cheek. Y/N reached behind Sam and she ran her hands through his hair giving it a light pull as he moaned softly into the kiss as it started to get heated. Sam got in between her legs not breaking the kiss as his hands ran up her thigh up her nightgown. Sam pulled away from the kiss and he kissed down her neck slowly pulling the straps on her gown down as he softly, gently kissed her shoulders.

Y/N buckled her hips up rolling her own with him as he hissed. She moaned as she felt how hard he was, and how big he felt under his boxer shorts. She had forgotten that he had always been on the bigger side. Her nails drags along his body as she gets to the waist band of his boxer shorts and reached inside of him lightly touching his long, thick cock. “Fuck.” Sam softly whispered as he felt the pad of her fingers on the tip of his dick. Sam pulled her nightgown up to her body and looked at her body sitting back so he could get a view of that glistening pink pussy. He bites his lip as the pad on his fingers run through her folds making her gasp and arch her back off the bed.

“So wet for me.” Sam said as he lightly touched her clit. “So good for me.” He said as his finger went to her entrance teasing it making Y/N whimper as the feeling of his fingers touching her hole. Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but instead her head fell back into the pillow as Sam’s middle finger enters her. “Aah!” Her back arched as Sam went in and out of her. “Fuck, Sam. So good.” She moaned as Sam curled and finger fucked her in a steady. “Faster!” She said and gasped louder as Sam decided to add another finger into her pussy. “So tight.” He groaned.

Sam has his middle finger and his ring finger inside of her as he went so fast. His jaw clenched as she moaned louder. “God! I’m cumming, fuck!” She shook violently. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as a wave of her orgasm hits her as Sam curled his fingers. Wave after wave of pure pleasure hitting her all at once. Sam lightly moaned as he felt how her walls fluttered on his fingers. He could imagine how it felt with her around his cock as he fucked her hard.

Y/N slumped against the mattress breathing heavy as Sam slowed down taking out his fingers. She look up at him as he licked them clean making her close her legs at how sexy he looked licking her orgasm off his fingers. Y/N pulled the rest of her nightgown off tossing it to the side as Sam went and took off his boxer shorts throwing them aside getting in between her legs. He looked over at her body as he had, had dreams about her. His hands ran down her body, as it grazed her hardened nipples making her moan lightly as her back arched as chills erupted all over her body.

His hand reached her clit. The pad on his thumb rubbing it gently as she lets out a moan. He grabbed his dick pumping himself as he looked at her pretty pink pussy. He loved to her how her legs were spread open for him. He took his cock, his tip, gliding it from her entrance to her clit making her into a whimpering mess. “Sam, please.” She whined. “Beg.” He told her as she whined more. “Sam, I need you please.” She said to him gasping as his dick kept on gliding up and down on her, her legs slightly shaking as he as she clenched over nothing, breathing heavy moaning

Sam looked at her falling apart before his eyes. He looked at her and slides inside making them both gasp in pleasure. Her walls stretching as he fills her up. “Fuck! Aah!” She moaned loudly as he slowly rolled his hips into hers as he, himself groaned. “You’re so fucking tight.” Sam groaned as he pants.

“Faster, Sam!” She said. He held her hips and started to pick up his pace making her gasp and moan. Her hand shoots out to his hard abs as she gasped louder as he slammed into her. Her head rolled back as her mouth dropped open. His eyes solely on her as she was falling apart. Sam grunted as he looked down to where they both connected. His thumb going to her clit rubbing fast circles on it making her scream out his name over and over again as her hips buckled up.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as Sam’s moaning was bringing her to the edge of her climax. “God, Sam! Don’t stop! Don’t fucking stop!” She shook as he pressed her down onto the bed as the coil in her stomach exploded. “Ooh god!!” She shook her whole body in a euphoric state, she was seeing stars. Sam was moaning as his hips slammed into her hips his dick twitching hissing as she clenched around him. “Sam, cum.” She said as she looked at him. “Cum for me.” She told him. Sam grunts loudly as he released his seed inside of her halting his movements as he fell forward panting her walls white

Sam groaned his eyes screwed as he grunted in her ear. “Fuck, baby.” He whispered kissing her neck softly as Y/N hugged his sweaty body against hers. Letting out a breath Sam pulled out and rolled onto his back, trying to catch his breathing, his heart pounding in his chest from his orgasm. Y/N had her eyes closed with a smile on her face her body relaxed

Sam opened his eyes and looked at her. “I love you.” He said making her snap her eyes open.

She slowly sat up and looked over at him. Her eyes were wide open as she looked at him. “I have for a very long time.” He said as he also sat up. “Since we were kids.” He said as her eyes softened looking at him. Her fingers reached over and softly puts his messy sex hair behind his ear as she lovingly looks at him. “It’s so crazy, because, I think I love you, too.” She whispered to him making smile widely at her.

She leaned forward and placed her lips on his. Sam grabbed her hips putting her on top of him. “So, you’re mine?” He asked her softly with a small smirk on his face. “I don’t know, am I?” She said back with an even bigger smirk. “I think you are.” He said to her.

“Well, then.” She said lifting his chin up with her finger so he could look at her. “Show me.” She said.

Sam grabbed her from her waist flipping her on her back making her laugh out loud and they immersed themselves into another hot love making moment.

• 🤍 • • • • 🎀 • • • ✨ • • ✨ • • • 🎀 • • • • 🤍 •

𝙎. 𝙒𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

If you have any requests lmk. I’ll see what I can do. Since I don’t really do stuff like this. I can try. The only things I don’t do. Are daddy kinks or wincest, or age gap or peeing kink. But other than that feel free. I☺️ ps. I’m a destiel shipper but I don’t write destiel smut sorry.