#this is probably way more than you asked for but

[1d1195]

Two Negatives

~9.8 k words

From me: I promise it’s not going to be about math that much. This is an academic rivals sort of thing. It’s going to have at least two follow ups but this is the whole story overall. I think there are parts of it that are kind of hand-wavy and whatnot. Not completely connected or explained.

Warnings: Maybe if you read this the right way you may notice that Harry's a little bit of a sugar-daddy. Low self-esteem, cheating, mentions of sex stuff.

Summary: Harry loves annoying the girl in his classes. She's an easy target. And more often than not, she teases him right back.

Which Harry is an absolute sucker for.

“Hey,” he hissed.

She ignored him. Instead, her gaze bounced back between the board where Professor Charles was writing on the whiteboard and the paper in front of her alongside her notebook, dated and titled ready to jot down any issues she had as they worked through the new material.

Something hit the back of her head. Nothing that hurt. But she felt it in her hair. Probably a gum wrapper. Or maybe the actual piece of gum. She wouldn’t have been surprised. She reached behind her head without looking, grateful it wasn’t a piece of gum, and she dropped the wrapper in her bag beside her to dispose of later.

He dropped his calculator off his desk (flung it was more accurate) so it landed right by her foot. She didn’t flinch as it clattered and ignored the curious peeks of others looking at her like she was the one causing the noise.

“Give me a pencil,” he was right next to her, grabbing his calculator.

“Go fuck yourself,” she whispered so quietly she wondered if Harry could even hear her.

“Please! I forgot!”

“You always forget,” she hissed back.

Professor Charles cleared his throat. She glared at her paper as her cheeks burned with embarrassment. How dare Harry embarrass her in front of her professor because he was too stupid to bring his own pencil again. She placed dots on her graph as her professor did, stabbing at her paper a little too hard. Pretending it was Harry’s Voo Doo doll. Just so it would stop. So he would stop. But no. He was still knelt beside her.

“Mr. Styles, is everything alright?” Professor Charles asked.

“Yup, just tying m’shoe,” he said and stood up with a grin. That grin probably got Harry out of a speeding ticket, especially if he was pulled over by a female officer. Probably got him out of homework when he was in school because he knew how to make anyone feel flattered and good about themselves.

That stupid, pretty smile of his with the most adorable dimples probably melted any woman that looked his way.

Professor Charles rolled his eyes as he turned back to the whiteboard. At the same time Harry plucked her pencil from her grip mid stroke of the number eight she was writing. Before she could protest or even fully grasp that her writing utensil was stolen, Harry was back in his seat... right behind her. She took a deep breath and tilted her head to the ceiling trying to keep herself calm so she wouldn’t scream at him in front of everyone. So, she wouldn’t look like a lunatic. Why did he have to sit behind her? She reached into her bag and pulled out her pencil case and continued writing as if Harry hadn’t interrupted her at all.

*

She didn’t have a class following her lecture so she would have a second to breathe and eat, which wasn’t the case most days. Fortunately, she was head tutor at the academic center in the library which wasn’t far from the dining hall. It was also pretty easy going at the center, so she could eat while working. But it was always nice to pretend and be a regular student and eat in the hall. She listened to music and read her book. The only hour she got to read much these days. After tutoring, she would be headed to one more class before she was back to work at the college bar in the center of town.

Her schedule was mapped out to the minute. Her days filled to the brim with school and work. Because she didn’t have a choice. It was the same way every penny of her budget was scheduled and allotted for other things as well. It didn’t leave time for friends.

“Hey gorgeous.”

Well, one friend.

He pecked her cheek before sitting across from her. “Class good?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, how was yours?”

He reached over the table, held her hand, and skimmed his thumb along her knuckles. It was sweet. If it wasn’t so forced. “Good,” he smiled.

Isaac was an extremely handsome guy. He was popular, smart, and funny. His family had big plans for him and that was why he was on this prestigious college campus.

“Hi Isaac,” a flirtatious call sounded from across the room. He turned to find the culprit but came up short.

“By the door,” she said. Isaac turned releasing her hand as he did and waved at the girl who dissolved into giggles. After greeting the masses, he turned his attention back to her. “Can I suggest something?”

“Of course you can, girlfriend.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you really want to be with the kind of girl who will openly flirt with someone in a relationship?”

“I think everyone knows it’s a fake relationship.”

“Regardless,” she shrugged.

“Jealousy doesn’t become you, my love,” he winked. He grunted when she tossed one leg over the other beneath the table and perhaps overshot just a hair.

She met Isaac on the first day of college. She was bringing her own stuff into her dorm room alone. His parents caught sight of her. Recognized her as she looked like her mom’s twin from way back when they all roamed this campus themselves. But unlike them, she was there under very different circumstances. She greeted them politely, smiled, and chatted as she knew best.

But Isaac approached her later that evening. She was sweaty from unpacking all alone. Her saving grace was a dorm room to herself. Perhaps the only lucky thing about her freshman year. This place screamed money. Money that she didn’t have anymore.

Isaac screamed money. “I need your help.” So, Isaac made sure she didn’t die of hunger and didn’t become a complete social pariah. Made sure she was taken seriously because of course this campus was littered with people who didn’t believe smarts could come without money.

In return, she was to be a doting girlfriend. When his parents were around, she was to be a fixture on his arm. Would it last forever? Probably not. But at least she would be okay for four years. She was kind, lovely, the exact kind of girl they expected their son to find and help keep him stable to take over his father’s company.

The kind of girl that would let Isaac be with whoever. Of course they had their moments. Like the lunch breaks such as the current one. Making appearances so that if anyone asked it wouldn’t be unheard of that they were together.

But she was no stranger to the whispers. That poor girl has no idea her boyfriend is cheating on her.

Fortunately, she didn’t have time for a boyfriend. Especially not one like Isaac. So, if her fake boyfriend was cheating on her, then at least she didn’t have to deal with it. Each time his parents came to town it wrecked her schedule. Wreaked havoc on her study time. Her work time. After three years, it was starting to feel like more of a give and less of a take in comparison to him.

But Isaac was nice enough. He still thanked her profusely—especially when his parents were in town. He didn’t use a lot of tongue when he kissed her in effort to keep up appearances. Knowing where his tongue had been, she was grateful.

“I’m not jealous,” she told him. “I care about you enough that I don’t want your heart to get broken.”

“You know I don’t have one of those.” She rolled her eyes. “You know, I’d be happy to throw you a bone, my love,” he leaned toward her, his eyes flirty and his smile lascivious.

She snorted. “Not even if you boiled it in disinfectant.”

“Orgasms help with stress.”

“I’m not lacking in orgasms. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Kinky, baby,” he winked. “You actually got me hard,” he told her. He wasn’t trying to sleep with her so much as he was willing to sleep with her. When they first arrived at college there were several firsts that both needed to accomplish and well, the fake dating wasn’t the only thing they were able to help each other out with. But after three years of rumors and knowing what Isaac was like outside their fake relationship, she was glad she got to him before all of the rumors swarmed around her.

“I have to go to work,” she told him getting up from the table.

Isaac really was a nice friend. Lovely even. But only if they were really alone. As time wore on, he got cocky and annoying—especially in public. It seemed like he was doing more of a favor for her than she was for him (even though she stopped asking him for things almost a month into their arrangement—shortly after she heard a rumor of a threesome).

But his parents loved her. They didn’t ask questions about his schooling or dating life because of her sweet nature. Originally, she felt guilty over their lie. But now, she was resenting that part of him more and more. He was a pretty good friend. But he was a dick of a boyfriend. “Are y’hungry, baby?” He asked.

She shook her head, cheeks blushing, and anger tingling in her blood. She hated the way he spoke to her in public; he sounded so condescending. Not at all like the kind and caring boyfriend he was supposed to pretend to be or even the kind and sweet friend he was behind closed doors. “Shut up, Isaac,” she sighed. His ego played a massive part in their friendship. He was rich and popular. She was not. “You sound like a douchebag.”

He pressed his lips to her ear, wrapped his arm around her waist. If she was looking in from the outside, she was sure it looked cute and romantic. “Mm,” he hummed ignoring her insult. “Can feed you something later,” he winked.

She knew people were watching so she smiled, leaned toward his ear. “If you’re going to feed me, I need a full meal.”

He chuckled, rolled his eyes and pecked her lips. “See you later, baby,” he kissed her softly again as he said it. “Gonna make sure you’re nice and full,” he promised loudly as he walked away. Not so loudly, that everyone would hear. But certainly loud enough for Harry Styles, who walked into the dining hall at that precise moment, to hear.

“Wow, bit extra for the dining hall,” Harry smirked. She glared at him, her cheeks warming.

“Don’t suppose you have my pencil?”

“Hmm,” he tapped his hands over his pockets. “Sorry Your Majesty,” he bowed in his over-the-top kind of way. “Clean out.” She rolled her eyes, grabbed her stuff, and made her way for the exit. Harry grabbed her hand at the last second pulling her back to look at him. “Y’okay?” He asked. “Y’look tired.”

She snatched her hand away. She was tired. But it didn’t feel good for it to be pointed out that she looked tired. “Thanks, I guess,” she rolled her eyes again. “I’m going to go now before you have a chance to insult me again.”

“Hey,” he frowned and called after her again as she continued walking away. “M’serious. Y’look like you’re getting sick.”

It was extremely unfair that Harry noticed that. “Are you concerned about me, Styles?” She glanced over her shoulder.

“Someone has t’remember t’bring me a pencil.”

“You could very much bring your own pencil.”

“Well, then I wouldn’t get t’have these lovely conversations every day, would I, Your Majesty?” She shook her head and ignored him as he continued speaking to her. “Hope he fucks y’good and full or whatever,” he called. She glared but refused to look back at him.

*

Harry appeared in one of her classes on the first day of her second year. A transfer from another school. His smile was panty-melting. Truly. Even she could recognize that. But regardless of how pretty he was, it was obvious how annoying he was going to be. He slid into the seat right behind her. “Hi,” he smiled. She ignored him, focusing on her professor starting class syllabus stuff. Besides, it seemed unlikely that someone like Harry was talking to her. “M’Harry,” he whispered.

She started scribbling on her notebook.

“He hasn’t even started yet,” he mumbled.

“Can I help you?” She turned around to look at him.

His smile was breathtaking. It really felt like he stole the breath from her lungs. “Sorry, Your Majesty. Didn’t mean t’interrupt y’doodle. Do y’have an extra pencil?” He asked.

She stared at the twenty-year-old man in his second year of college unprepared for his first day of classes. Perhaps if she rolled her eyes and ignored him, the trajectory of her life might have been something else entirely.

Instead, she handed her pencil to him.

“Thanks, Your Majesty.”

She rolled her eyes, anyway, facing forward.

*

In her Abstract Algebra class Harry was right behind her once more. “Psst.”

She ignored him. But his body was closer, his voice was closer. “Your Majesty,” he practically sang.

“What is your deal?” She hissed.

“I need a pencil.”

“Bring your own.”

“I like the one y’gave me. It wrote so smooth.”

She doesn’t know why she gave him a pencil.

But she really did know.

Harry was obviously handsome and from the way he chuckled under his breath over the lame jokes their professors made, he was quick and probably funny in his own way. But moreover, he had to be intelligent. Really intelligent to understand a pun about probability theory. The way others in the class fawned over him (guys and girls alike) it was apparent he was popular. Maybe popular like Isaac which made her dislike him just a bit.

It went that way every class. Harry was in four out of five of her classes both the fall and spring semester. Every class he needed a pencil. Each day he thanked her in his ridiculously attractive accent. Your Majesty.

What a dick.

But Harry talked to her. Even if it was just asking for a pencil. Or a picture of the notes he missed from when he went to the bathroom. He didn’t care that her family was broke. That she was broke. That she worked three jobs and hardly slept. He didn’t make her feel like she didn’t deserve to be on that campus.

“Did y’get the answer t’number nine?” It wasn’t a trick; he wanted her answer. Her opinion. “I got two different answers three different ways. There was no judgment that she couldn’t afford the extravagant lifestyle that her peers did. She had one winter coat. Not six to match her outfits. She didn’t have a car. She didn’t go out to eat and she made her own coffee except for on Saturdays when she splurged and treated herself to her favorite bagel and her favorite coffee.

Maybe it was because she saw him at a party. A girl at his side, smiling at him. Twirling her hair and touching his pretty chest. It was effortless. She didn’t have to try to flirt with Harry. It was a given. Rich, popular, perfectly pretty. The same as Harry.

Everything she wasn’t. Everything Harry would never want.

So she tended to Isaac. Kept to herself.

Gave Harry an absurd number of pencils.

Which continued into their third year. Where things got busier, harder, and more overwhelming.

But Harry was always right behind her. Asking for a pencil. Making her cranky.

But always making her feel normal when no one else did.

*

It was obvious Harry had money. The key on his ring had a symbol for a car that would never be in her price range. His clothes were pretty, the latest trends. Even his sweatpants looked like they were designer.

Maybe it could have been that way for her. Maybe if her dad hadn’t embezzled all their money. Hadn’t gone to jail and left her and her mother with anything more than a penny. Growing up she didn’t feel rich, but she never wanted. But right as she was applying to colleges, with only one college campus that made her heart happy, it was the first time in her life she thought about and hated money.

She imagined no one on campus ever felt that way.

But even if Harry had the nicest clothes and the nicest car, he never flaunted what he had. Not even to his friends. He didn’t show off or act like he had a ton of money. He was just there.

Which is why perhaps, when he annoyed her to pieces, she didn’t mind giving him a pencil in the end.

*

It was a bad day. She missed her mom. She was exhausted. Didn’t have time to make herself a coffee which just felt criminal. The test on her mind nearly brought her to tears as she sat down in her seat, seconds before her professor walked in.

Her pencil case was empty.

Part of her felt sad she wouldn’t have a pencil for Harry. Would he ask someone else? Would he stop asking her because of it? God, why did she even care? It was a blessing. He would stop asking her. She wouldn’t have to keep wasting money she didn’t have on pencils.

Plus, he wasn’t even there.

The test landed on her table. Her brain felt weary. Was she getting sick? Probably. Stress did a number on her immune system. It was a miracle she wasn’t sick all the time.

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes she tried to calm her mind. It wasn’t the time to think about the reading she needed to complete, the shift she was covering at the academic center, or the dinner she was really looking forward to splurging on. It had been ages since she had chicken in her pasta dish.

“Hey,” how long were her eyes closed? How did she miss him coming to his seat.

“I don’t have a pencil, Harry,” she hissed back.

“Of course, y’do,” she could hear his eye roll.

“I don’t, I forgot my pencil case.”

He snorted. Her eyes flicked to Professor Charles who didn’t look up from his own paper at the front of the room. “C’mon, quit being a brat.”

“A brat?” She whispered.

“Quiet,” Professor Charles still didn’t look up.

“Sorry Your Majesty, jus’ give me a pencil and—”

“I don’t have one!” Her voice was quiet and maybe if she wasn’t only two rows from the front of the room, it wouldn’t have been a big deal when he pulled it out of her grip.

But she was towards the front.

Professor Charles stood beside their desks. “You’re both excused.”

Her face felt hot and pale at the same time. She felt like she was going to throw up. The feeling of eyes on her made her more embarrassed than the time she tripped and fell at her third-grade band concert. “Professor Charles,” she started.

“Enough,” he snagged her paper from her desk. Her throat felt tight, her eyes prickled, and she thought that maybe in a different life she could have been friends with Harry. Liked him, even.

But not then.

She bit on her lip to keep from crying as she packed her stuff into her bag and marched out of the room, head held high, and ignoring everyone’s stare. Especially the guy following her out of the classroom.

*

She slapped the door to the building as Harry continued following her. She was fuming. Practically steaming from his perspective. Yet he couldn’t help but think she looked absolutely adorable. “Quit fucking following me!” She snapped.

“My God, you’re so uptight,” he rolled his eyes.

“Harry Styles, you’re an absolute dick. Just leave me the fuck alone, for God’s sake.”

It garnered the attention of a few onlookers. But their path to the dining hall was quiet given it was the middle of class time. "Jesus Christ, do y’ever jus’ take a break? S’one fuckingtest, Your Majesty. For fuck’s sake. He’ll probably drop it. Quit being a baby."

A sniffle. One small, tiny noise.

"You don't get it do you?" She snapped. She didn’t want to. But she couldn’t hold it in anymore. It was too much. The final straw.

In the entire time Harry had known her he had never seen her this upset. Not like this. Not to the point where she was crying.

Because of him.

He made her cry.

"I have a squeaky-clean record. I have to be perfect all the time. I can't let one hair be out of place. I can't get one bad grade. If I do, then everyone around me makes comments and they assume it’s because I have no money. The poor girl can’t hack it here. It's this massive pressure on me all the time. I can't get caught doing normal party things. I can't get caught cheating on a test, Harry. I can’t. I lose my scholarship if I don't maintain my GPA. I can hardly afford to be here, Harry. I have to work three jobs. I have to budget every minute of my time as much as every dollar of my bank account. Do you know I haven't been home in three years? I miss my mom so much and I can’t even afford to go see her and I just pretend because—” she covered her mouth and Harry swallowed hard, willing himself to not cry as well. This wasn’t about him. This was all about her right now. “And now,” she croaked. “I’m going to have to skip dinner because I need to buy new pencils because I have been giving them to someone who’s too fucking inconsiderate to even fucking return them after annoying me for no better reason that for kicks.”

Her sniffles turned into sobs and Harry had never felt like more of an ass. He thought she was annoying at worst, but he never wanted her to cry.

Her crying, all her tears, they were all his fault.

"I study so hard. I have to. But I want to. I want to make enough money to support my mom, and I can’t do one thing wrong because if I do then I’ll lose everything. I have to study. I’m not like you, Harry. You just know everything and that's amazing, Harry, it really is,” and for the first time since he started interacting with her, Harry felt horrible for the way he had treated her. The compliment she gave was so thoughtful. The kindness in her voice was unmissable. He was practically shocked it even came from her mouth. “But not all of us are gifted with insane intelligence like you. Not all of us are God's gift to women and can go out and party and not be judged for kissing someone I like. Not all of us can afford to be here without help."

Harry kept his lip between his teeth to keep from speaking.

“I’ll get over it,” she sniffed. “Sorry for being so uptight.” She wiped her face and stalked off toward her dorm.

Harry had never felt worse about himself.

*

She wore her best interview dress. Her hair was pinned precisely so that the pieces that constantly flew away were at bay. She swallowed the rock that formed in her throat as she knocked on her professor's office door.

"Come in."

"Professor Charles," she was grateful he didn't look up because she was worried, she was going to curtsey or something equally ridiculous. "I wanted to apologize—"

"Your boyfriend already came to tell me he's at fault for the fiasco in class. He took full responsibility and said it was extremely unfair of me to refuse you the exam."

Her heart skipped a beat. "M-my boyfriend?" She whispered.

"Mr. Styles is very bold and I suppose I was a bit harsh. You are a brilliant young woman and role model to your peers," he praised. "Would you like to take the test now or schedule another time?" He asked looking up from his work.

She swallowed. "Um..."

"I would appreciate it, if you took it now. I need an answer key to grade the rest of them," his voice was steady, but she felt the compliment down to her bones. "I have a class in two hours, and I was hoping to check grading off my to-do list before it started," he explained.

She felt uneasy, overwhelmed, but not like she did when she sat down the first time to take the same exam. "I can do it now," she whispered and dropped her bag at her feet and situated herself at the table on the side of his office below the window. She got to work and completed the test as if all it asked was for her to write the alphabet down. She was checking over her work when she glanced out the window and saw the sprawling campus. There were people walking by at fast clips. Eager to get to the dining halls and rushing to make it to their classes on time.

But in the midst of all the people running by, there was Harry, sitting on a bench. His arm stretched across the back of it, while the other held his phone. He crossed his feet at his ankles and looked like a model for relaxation.

He took the complete blame for the test. She felt her heart aching and she stood from the table and went over to her professor's desk. "Is... Mr. Styles able to retake the exam as well?"

"I wasn't planning on it," he looked up at her. "Why?"

She bit her lip, looked at her feet. "I could have just given him a pencil."

"Mr. Styles should be prepared for his own education," he said knowingly. There was no way she was going to explain her relationship with Harry to her professor. Plus, she wasn't sure she'd be able to. She dropped her gaze and handed off her exam. "You can tell Mr. Styles he can come up and take the test," he said simply. "I have the answer key now."

She blinked.

"He'll probably ace it as well, but your handwriting is neater," he shrugged, tipped his glasses further down his nose and silently read her answers. She stood still, like she was waiting for the danger to pass. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?" He asked glancing back up. She shook her head, pinned to her spot. The strangeness of it all was overwhelming. "Men like Mr. Styles are going to have it a lot easier than you. The field you’ve selected is male-dominated and many will sell you short because of your gender," he said. "That doesn't mean you need to worry about your worth," he assured her. "You are a brilliant, hardworking, and talented individual. Mr. Styles should be bringing you pencils to class."

Her cheeks felt warm.

"Also, to be fair, it's nice to know you're not cheating off of each other because it was getting a little suspicious," he turned her exam back across his desk and wrote her score at the top of her page, upside down—98%. "Missed a negative."

"If Harry misses it, can you knock off more points?" She asked before she could stop herself then felt herself blush at how ready she was to throw him under the bus. She looked down shyly and covered her mouth before she looked up at him again.

Her strict professor made a face that resembled somewhat of a smile. "Of course."

“Thank you,” she hoped she sounded as gracious as she felt.

“Great work,” he nodded in response.

She headed out of the office and walked toward the bench. She sat beside him and faced forward. Harry put his phone back in his pocket and turned only his head toward her. "How'd y’do?" He asked.

"Ninety-eight."

He tutted. "Too bad," he smirked.

A smile twitched at her lips. She looked up at the sky briefly. "He said you can go on up and take it now," she told him.

He blinked. Surprise coloring his pretty features. Harry rarely seemed stunned, especially because of her. It was cute and also exciting that he was surprised by her. "What?"

She looked at her lap, trying to focus on her nails but not for too long because she was worried that she would gnaw on them if she let the nerves overtake her. "That was... the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," she whispered. "Especially for Professor Charles' class," she continued. Taking a deep breath, she looked at him. "I was obnoxious. Bad day or whatever... it wasn't your fault and I’m sorry I made a big deal of it."

"I just wanted you to stop crying. You look ridiculous when you cry."

She smiled. A genuine one. Not a forced one that Harry had seen her give everyone under the sun. Not the one that she plastered on her face during presentations. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. “Y’had every right t’be mad at me. I was a complete dick.”

She shrugged. “I... I should have just given you a pencil... it turned out there was one at the bottom of my bag and... I kind of... like giving you a pencil. You just caught me at a really bad moment.”

“I know. M’sorry. I knew y’looked off.”

She tilted her head at him. “You knew I looked off?”

“M’pretty good at memorizing all your different looks,” he had a smile that made her melt. “Like right now, s’one of m’favorites. Y’look relaxed. It happens once, roughly, every three weeks, I think. Lasts maybe four minutes if m’lucky,” he winked. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. But Harry noticed how her cheeks turned red. It made him want to continue flirting with her. She was fun to flirt with. Her sarcastic comments were funny, even when directed at him, and it only amplified how smart he knew she was.

As much as Harry wanted to stay on that bench for as long as she did, he finally stood. Then rubbed the back of his head squinting at her, one eye closed. "Do you have a pencil?" He asked shyly.

She snorted, plucked hers from her pocket, and held it out to him. "I'd like it back," she reminded him. Even if he didn't, it was their thing now.

He rolled his eyes. "Wait here. It'll only take me half the time it took you." She rolled her eyes but pulled out a book from her bag and opened it to the page she was previously reading. "Hey kitten?" He asked. She didn't look up and Harry realized he never called her anything other than Your Majesty. He nudged her foot to make her look up. "Who did y’think I was talking to?" He chuckled.

"Who me?" She asked, but Harry noted the way her cheeks turned red. He rolled his eyes. "Sorry," she shook her head. "Did you need something else?"

His expression softened and he shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," her voice was so gentle. "I'm sorry too."

"There's nothing y'need t'apologize for,” he shook his head quickly. “I was a complete ass," he admitted. She shrugged.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he said seriously. “Please don’t let anyone treat you that way.” She nodded silently. Knowing that she couldn’t promise that. Nor did she expect Harry to make her keep such a promise, but it made her heart squeeze with disappointment in herself. “Be right back,” he nudged her foot again as he headed back to the math building. She returned to her book and tried not to think about how Harry was probably right. This was the most relaxed she felt in months.

About forty minutes later Harry exited the building, walking at a leisurely pace. He sat on the bench once more. She didn't look up as he did but the butterflies in her stomach reminded her that he was there. Harry draped an arm across the back of the bench and then presented her pencil to her as if it were a bouquet of flowers. "How'd you do?" She asked gently.

He sighed, clucked his tongue. "Ninety-five,” she smiled but tried and failed to hide it from him. "I missed two negatives."

She giggled. "How embarrassing."

"How embarrassing," he mocked in a voice that was meant to sound like her. "You're so annoying. Do y’know he uses your work as the answer key?"

It had to be a record. The longest time they had been together without bickering. The number of times she smiled because of him.

The fastest someone had ever fallen for someone she was supposed to hate.

*

When Harry saw her boyfriend, he started looking for her. He was clearly busy with his friends and the women they were entertaining. But she wasn’t amongst them. He did a loop around the party. Looking for her even if he shouldn’t have. He stopped and chatted during his search so it wouldn’t be obvious. But even when he did stop and leaned against the wall, or grabbed another drink, he kept scanning for her.

When his loop came up empty of the pretty girl he liked to annoy, he wondered where she was and how he could ask without it being weird.

“Hey stranger,” Eleanor smiled and kissed his cheek. “Where’ve you been?”

Louis gave a polite wave to his best friend from across the way, a knowing smile on his lips, grateful that someone he trusted could keep an extra eye on his lady.

“Jus’ wandering around,” he mumbled.

Did he sound disappointed? He felt disappointed.

She stared at him and stood on her toes to reach his ear so she could speak to him directly over the loud music. “She’s not here.”

“What?” Harry pulled back like she slapped him. Was it that obvious? It couldn’t have been. He was just… wandering. Like a lost, lovesick puppy wondering where she was and hoping he would find her to make the weird feeling in his chest go away. Eleanor cocked an eyebrow at him. Silently telling him that hewas not fooling her. “Fuck,” he mumbled sipping his drink. It was pathetic and obvious.

“She doesn’t come to these things,” Eleanor shrugged.

“Why?”

She sighed, rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t want her here.”

Harry felt like the words Eleanor said were spoken in a language he didn’t know. “Who doesn’t want her here?”

“Her boyfriend.”

The grip on the bottle Harry was holding tightened. “Oh.”

“Go ahead. Ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Harry.” He closed his eyes and looked around to find him. It was like he already knew it was going to break him. He didn’t want El to continue even though he knew he needed to hear it. “What he told her to keep her away? She dotes on him too much. Worries too much about her reputation and everyone else’s. She doesn’t have fun. So, he doesn’t want her here. At these kinds of things.”

Honestly, a party didn’t seem like her vibe. She was more of a game night kind of girl. Someone you could take to a family cookout or a pool party with kids. But calling her not fun? Because frankly, Harry realized he hadn’t liked a single party he’d been to in months and it’s because her banter wasn’t there to keep him company.

“Oh,” he murmured. Trying to feign indifference.

“Don’t you want to ask what I think?” Harry didn’t look at his friend. His eyes finally landing on the man that didn’t deserve the sweet, intelligent, and beautiful girl he didn’t invite. He followed his path up the stairs to the second floor. Right as Eleanor told him the worst thing he had ever heard. “He hooks up with other girls and he has the common decency to do it behind her back,” she shrugged.

“What?!” He spit his eyes dropping to Eleanor again. How could she be so casual about this?

“She knows…or I would imagine she suspects,” she shrugged. “But she’s good for his family. They adore her. And he helps her reputation. She’s trying so hard to dig her family—”

It was like he knew. Everything. All of it made sense. Every tiny fiber of her being was made for someone else—whether it was her family who she adored and helped as much as possible, Isaac who didn’t deserve her at all, or even Harry, who honestly wasn’t sure he was much better than Isaac. “Does she know he sleeps with them?”

Eleanor looked at him suspiciously. “I don’t know if they sleep with him. I’m assuming. But I think it’s a pretty good assumption. He’s probably—”

Harry slammed his bottle on the ground shattering it and drawing the attention of those around him. He took the stairs two at a time and opened every door to every room—an unspoken party rule: never open a closed door.

He was breaking it.

A girl shrieked and he just knew he had found the right room. He didn’t pay any attention to her scrambling to cover up her naked chest and instead yanked him clean off the bed. “What the fuck!?” Harry shoved him back into the hall. He was only in his boxers. Piece of shit. Someone whistled and Harry shoved him harder as he tried to push him back and make his way for the bedroom again. “What the fuck, Styles?!”

“Call her,” he snarled. Shoving him against the wall again when he tried to continue escaping. “End it. Now.”

“What are you—”

“You’re going t’cheat on her?” Harry’s voice was venomous. “Her?” He repeated. Like that was really all he needed to say. Everyone was staring now. Harry kept going. “Call her and end it. Or I’m going over and telling her you’re done.”

The stupid prick tilted his head at Harry almost condescendingly. “Do you want her? She’s not like us.”

Harry didn’t like the way he said us. There wasn’t a single connection he wanted to be associated with in context of the vile piece of trash in front of him. Other than he managed to pick the sweetest girl he had ever met. But simultaneously, the very wrong girl to fuck with, because Harry also picked her. Unlike the moron in front of him, he was going to do everything he could to protect her and her heart.

“She’s doesn’t have money. She won’t understand—”

Harry punched him across the cheek before he could stop it and someone else watching groaned at the impact and Harry continued talking. “Tell her now.”

“Christ, Styles! What the fuck!” He rubbed his jaw.

“Tell her.”

“I’m not telling her shit. She knows she needs me more.” Harry jerked back like he had punched him back. “What? You don’t think she’d give up the reputation I have, do you?”

Harry watched him silently for only a moment longer. Without a word, he headed back into the bedroom grabbing the stray clothes. Before anyone could rationalize exactly what he was doing, he was sprinting down the steps and outside.

He threw them in the pool without thinking, ignoring the laughter and shouts from him as he hurried around the side of the house. He continued running and didn’t look back.

*

Harry was in her dorm. On her floor. Stopped in front of her door.

He knocked.

Repeatedly.

There was no answer, but he knew she was there.

So, he knocked again.

And again.

Eventually there was a click of her lock despite the fact it couldn’t be opened without her key card. Of course she was all about safety. Finally, he heard her voice starting to speak as she opened the door. “I’m off duty if you have an emergency, you’re supposed to see the RA on duty and—” The door was open and out of the way before she finished talking. Harry pressed himself inside. “Harry! What are you—”

“Tell me s’not true.”

“What’s not true?”

“Y’know he hooks up with other women?” He glared at her.

The color drained from her face.

Harry rubbed his hand across his face. “What is the matter with you?! Are you so desperate for a scrap of affection you’ll open yourself up t’diseases and shit because you—”

“Shut the fuck up,” she hissed tears stinging her eyes instantly.

“—need him? You don’t need him. You’re a thousand times better than him. A million! Y’could have any guy y’want, and they would still want t’grovel at your feet. Why would y’pick the one Goddamn asshole who—”

“You don’t know shit. Harry Styles. Stop pretending like you know me because —”

“Then explain it t’me because I can’t think of one fucking reason someone as intelligent, kind, beautiful, and hilarious as you would—”

A weird noise left her throat. Almost a squeak. It was adorable. If Harry wasn’t so mad. He would have told her such. Would have reveled in it because she was so fucking sweet and cute. But instead, she asked the most heartbreaking question known to man.

“You think I’m beautiful?”

Her question was so soft. So unbelievably shocked. Innocent. All the words left his head. It was too quiet. His shoulders were rising and falling too hard and too fast. “What?” He shook his head.

She looked at her feet. Harry scanned her. Her shirt was too big. It didn’t look like she was wearing pants. Maybe she wasn’t. Harry hoped she wasn’t. She only wore one sock. Like she lost the other in her sheets or maybe she only purposefully put one on because only that foot was cold. Those pretty eyes looked at him, anxiety, frustration, sadness, all staring back at him from the depth of her soul. “No one has ever said I’m beautiful before.”

Harry felt something die in his chest. He really thought he would start groveling on his knees for her because he was one of millions of guys who wanted to grovel at her feet. He wanted to be better. As soon as he made her cry over missing a test, he wanted nothing more than to be better for her. “No one?”

“Just... my family...” She shrugged.

“Kitten,” he rolled his eyes. “You’re… you’re really beautiful,” he rubbed a hand over his mouth, pinching his lower lip, as he scanned her. “In a way that probably makes a lot of girls jealous,” she snorted. He sighed. “Seriously. Your hair, kitten. It’s... so silky and shiny and your eyes,” he shook his head. “And your brain, my God,” he smiled softly. “M’not even going t’mention your body. Because you’re more than your appearance, but m’really...” he nearly sighed like a lovesick teenager. Maybe part of him still was. “You’re stunning, kitten.”

She blushed. Really blushed. So hard that Harry could see it in the dim light of her room cast from the twinkly lights she had strung around the window. Her cheeks were so red and utterly beautiful. For a second Harry thought it would be easy. All of it. Getting her to like him. Trust him.

Her face morphed into one of utter distrust. “That’s mean,” she whispered. “You’re... that’s mean to...” she shook her head.

“Kitten,” he frowned. Unable to believe she could think like that. He didn’t even know where to begin. Everyone had to like her. She was lovely, beautiful, so intelligent it took his breath away.

But she mistook his hesitation for the worst. She shook her head. “Forget it. You’re just... being nice to me because... because you feel bad or something,” she sniffled. The poor thing couldn’t even take his compliment. Harry wanted to cry. “Just the way everyone else does,” she laughed bitterly. “Thank you for being nice. Or whatever. For wanting to protect me. I don’t need it,” her voice cracked. “You can go back to your party or... whatever it is that—”

“Love,” his heart felt achy.

“No seriously. I get it. I’m too nice. I’m stupid to let him walk all over me but you don’t know the kind of reputation my family has in comparison to everyone here. So yeah. I let him use me as a prop—”

“Stop it,” he snapped and shook his head.

“—because I’m good for his image, too. Even if it makes me miserable and—”

“Kitten, I’m serious. Stop it,” his voice was almost raw. Like he had been screaming for hours. Maybe it was the combination of anxiety and frustration rushing through him. Like adrenaline but worse. He wanted to cry.

“—it’s pathetic that when people see me with him, they see this innocent—”

“Shut. Up.”

“—intelligent girl who doesn’t know anything because her family is poor and broken—”

“Stop it!” His voice took on a new octave. It made her words fall away.

They were both seething with anger and frustration. The tears in her eyes made him sick. Like when he made her cry because she couldn’t take her test. It was only the second time, but he quickly realized he hated it when she cried. “Stop what, Harry?”

“Stop minimizing who you are,” he practically growled.

“Everyone else does it.”

“Oh yeah? Name one time I’ve done that. If everyone has done it; tell me, kitten. When have I. Ever. Made you feel like less?”

She was silent. Finally.

Harry never made her feel like less. He annoyed the shit out of her. Pissed her off and made her sad. But he never made her feel like she didn’t deserve to be on that campus. Never made her feel inferior.

“M’going t’kiss you,” he warned stepping closer to her now that he made his point.

Her brain restarted. Her cheeks flushed again. “Harry, we can’t I’m... in a relation—”

He glared at her as her back pressed to her bed frame. Cornering her in her open room that was suddenly infinitesimally smaller than it was seconds before. “S’not a fucking relationship,” he snarled. “M’not sure what y’were doing. But you’re not doing it anymore. Not with him. Never again.”

“But we were—”

“Y’don’t need him,” he assured her. “Trust me.”

“But—”

“Y’have me, kitten. M’gonna do whatever y’need,” he cupped the back of her neck, making the words stop on the tip of her tongue and put one hand on the small of her back, pulling her to him swiftly and devouring her lips. She moaned instantly, seconds into the kiss. His lips felt like warm little pillows. Cushioning her own. It was intoxicating. Unfairly, he pulled away almost as quickly as it started. “Oh s’nice, kitten,” he praised. “Moaning already,” he pulled back and peppered kisses along her jaw. She whimpered softly, making him groan. “Y’make pretty little noises like that, kitten. M’not gonna be responsible for what comes next,” he warned pressing his lips back to hers.

Her fingers tangled in his hair at the back of her head. Harry leaned forward arching her backward and wrapping his arms around her tightly. He didn’t want to be aggressive, but there was something in the way her mouth tasted, the way her body felt, that he couldn’t stop kissing her. Hardly breathing, or maybe he was trying to breathe all of her in, he continued pulling her lips into his mouth. Hoping that somewhere along the way, they would get stuck like that. Destined to spend eternity attached by their kiss like a Greek punishment. Except the endless touch of her mouth wouldn’t be punishment. Because he wanted it to be endless. Wanted to spend forever showering her with affection because she deserved that and so much more.

“Can I stay the night, kitten? I’ll sleep on the floor if y’want,” his voice was practically ragged. His forehead pressed to hers. “I jus’ don’t want t’leave you. Please don’t make me leave.”

“You can stay,” she whispered, her voice breathless and airy. “Not on the floor, though.”

“M’not a bat, kitten. Can’t hang from your ceiling,” he joked.

She snorted. “C’mon,” she tugged him to her bed and pulled her in right behind her beneath her covers.

There weren’t many times Harry felt peace. “Harry?” She asked, as she settled into his embrace. His lips skimmed along her face, pressing every so often to whatever he could reach. Like he couldn’t stop himself.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

He squeezed her. “You’re welcome, beautiful.”

She sighed. “Your mouth is pretty nice when you’re not talking,” she said quietly.

He chuckled. “Just you wait and see, kitten.”

*

As lovely as the night before was, she tried to maintain a semblance of her routine between replaying the kiss(es) and the angry confession over and over in her head. At the moment, she was grabbing lunch for herself. It was probably going to set her back a bit since she’d need to buy more pencils since Harry stole them all, but she was a little too tired to go without supplying herself with more energy. She pulled her wallet out as the cashier rang her up. “It’s all set, love,” she said sweetly. Tilting her head, she gazed at the woman as if it were a joke.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s all set,” she repeated. “Your food’s been paid for already.”

She blinked, glanced around, looking for someone that fit the description of Good Samaritan. “Who...?”

“I’m not sure. I was just told that if you came through the line to tell you it’s been taken care of. You can get whatever you want,” she shrugged.

Blinking again she glanced around again. A line formed rapidly behind her. She gathered her items and headed for a seat. The one where Isaac usually joined her. But there was no Isaac. She read her book and listened to her music in silence. It was peaceful. When the hour was up, she headed back to the kitchen area to grab another snack, lining up behind the others waiting to check out as well. “Your food’s paid for.”

She felt like she was being pranked. “Again?”

“No, always.”

She felt like her mind was short circuiting. “What?”

“Your meals. All have been paid for. For the year.”

The snack she got was going to be uneaten because she felt like it was a prank. “I don’t understand.”

“I really don’t have more details than that. We were just told your food was paid for.”

“We?”

“My boss left, but I can have him reach out and explain it.”

“Please. Thank you.”

Stunned, she left with her snack. She headed to the library academic center. The tutors on her shift all waved to her. “That gift is for you,” Gabby said. At the front table was a fairly large giftbag. The kind you get for a kid’s birthday and put a board game in it. She looked at it curiously and pulled the tissue paper out of the way. She swallowed the lump in her throat realizing she didn’t need the dining hall manager to reach out to her after all.

She plucked the card from the slot on the side of the bag.

Half are probably for me anyway.

The bag was filled with packages of her favorite pencils. More than she would need for the rest of her undergraduate degree. Maybe even graduate. Or even the rest of her life.

She took a deep breath and pulled out her laptop and opened her email. She typed in Harry’s address, because she still didn’t have Harry’s phone number. Even after making out with him for hours. After waking up in his arms later than she was supposed to and letting his lips linger on her skin.

She wrote her message and pressed send before she could overthink it.

You didn’t have to do that. It’s way too much, actually. I’m a little uncomfortable imagining you spending THAT much money on food and pencils.

Well. If you died of starvation, I wouldn’t have anyone to bother. Kind of a boring way to suffer through the last two years of college—we have Real Analysis I and II next year. I can’t do that alone.

Thank you. That was... very nice of you.

You’re welcome, kitten. Coffee is free too; I went to every shop within walking distance and left your picture. An old ugly one from your mom’s Facebook page, don’t worry. Didn’t want you to get a big head about all of this. It’s not a big deal.

Help yourself to whatever you need and if you need something else let me know.

And this is my phone number so you can stop emailing me like it’s 2003.

She smiled fondly at the message. Closed her laptop and felt happier to be at work than she had in weeks.

*

Harry didn’t force anything. She was lying against his chest in her small room, on her small bed. “I’m sorry it’s so cramped,” she whispered.

“S’better for snuggling,” he shrugged and kissed the top of her head. “Go t’sleep, please, kitten.”

“Don’t you want to... I don’t know, fuck or something?”

“Well, when y’propose it so romantically like that,” he murmured.

She pouted. “I don’t know... I just assumed that...”

“That m’like Isaac? Please don’t make that assumption anymore.”

“So, you don’t want to fuck me?”

“Oh, more than anything,” he tilted her head up and brushed his finger on her warm cheek. “But not until you’re ready.”

“I literally just—”

“No. Y’think s’because we’re supposed to. Not because y’want to,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll wait,” he promised and kissed the tip of her nose, and it was the lamest kind of kiss imaginable. Being twenty-one and melting over a kiss on the nose.

Yet it made her want a thousand more of them. Made her want to cry with how adored she felt. Harry didn’t care that she worked a thousand hours. He didn’t expect her to make out with him. Or blow him. Or anything sexual. No, he practically begged her to sleep in his arms.

It was unfair how sweet he was wrapped up in the body of someone that made her infuriated for the last year and a half. Right as she was about to pass out, she jerked herself awake involuntarily. “Y’okay, love?” He hummed as if she so much as coughed and not nearly punched Harry in the face with her movement.

“Tired.”

“I know, baby. M’trying t’make y’sleep,” he combed her hair down. Traced her spine in the same movement. “Surprise, surprise, you’re a bit stubborn.”

“Who me?”

“Want me t’sing?”

“Don’t want my ears to bleed, no.” Harry chuckled softly. Ignored her.

Then hummed.

It was so warm, so soft, it felt like magic. Harry could sing. That wasn’t on any Bingo cards when she thought about Harry. She didn’t even know what song he was singing. But it lulled her right to sleep.

*

Harry was wrapped around her in the small bed, his head tucked below her chin, his face smushed into the front of her shirt. If she wore a lower cut shirt, Harry would have been drooling on her boobs. “You’re able to breathe in there?” She whispered, threading her fingers through his hair.

“S’the only way I want t’go,” he promised, his voice muffled with sleep and the fabric on her body. “Or with y’legs wrapped around m’head,” he shrugged one shoulder. If Isaac said that to her, she would have punched him. When Harry said it, it made her want to wrap her legs around his head. Made her squeeze her legs together. “Felt that,” he mumbled. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, so he had no choice but to feel it. “Did y’sleep okay?”

She nodded. “Did you?”

“Extremely. Wrapped up in m’favorite girl.”

Her heart fluttered and she kissed the top of his head. Never would she have imagined Harry being so sweet and lovely like this. “Are you... going to be mean in public to me?”

“I hope not,” he pulled away and rubbed his eye. He looked sleepy and boyish. A devilish combination for her skeptical heart. “Have I been mean t’you?” He asked. “I know I tease, but mean?” She supposed he wasn’t mean. Maybe the teasing tricked her.

“I guess the teasing—”

“M’so sorry love,” he frowned and cupped her cheeks, kissed her softly on the lips. “No more teasing,” he promised.

“Well,” she laughed softly. “I kind of like teasing you.”

He smirked. “I don’t want you to think m’mean,” his eyebrows pinched together.

“Can I ask you a question without making fun of me?”

“I think that depends on the question, kitten. If y’ask me some basic math problem like what’s the indefinite integral of x-squared times cosine x or what’s a negative times a negative—”

“Are we dating?”

He stopped his joke and cupped her face. Dropped his forehead to hers and brushed his thumb along her cheek. “I would fucking hope so, kitten.”

She swallowed. “You don’t care that I’m broke? Or that I work a lot and I’m crazy and—”

“No, I don’t care ‘bout any of that. You’re m’favorite person to annoy. The person I look forward t’seeing most in class. You’re the entire reason ‘ve never skipped class.”

Her heart fluttered. “You can’t pay for everything, Harry. It was a sweet sentiment but—”

“M’not letting m’girlfriend starve,” he rolled his eyes.

Her heart definitely fluttered. He was sweet. Harry was sweet. What a revelation. Or maybe she always knew that.

She looked into those beautiful green eyes that made her feel overwhelmed in the best way. “Why do you call me Your Majesty?” She whispered quietly. Almost scared to hear the answer.

He rolled his eyes again. A favorite past time of his. “Because kitten,” he pressed his lips over hers briefly, then kissed her forehead, and finally the tip of her nose. He met her gaze and made sure she was focusing when he spoke again. In a few minutes she would be busy, overwhelmed, and stressed. For the moment, Harry wanted to make sure she knew just how important she was to him. “I think you’re a queen.”

--

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[xo100]

hii i have this idea. yn and lando dont know each other yet. yn is driving back from work crashes into lando and his mclaren (small accident nothing big) and lando is mad until he sees her and love at first sight haha and offers to help her with insurance and tries to get her number and shes just confused and doesnt know who he is.

Thank youu in advance.

A Minor Collision, A Major Connection - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: request by anon as you can read above this!

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2796

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

The Friday afternoon sky was draped in golden hues as Y/N tiredly made her way back home after a long, grueling day at work. The office had been a madhouse—endless meetings, deadlines creeping up, and not enough coffee to power through it all. The only thing keeping her going was the thought of collapsing onto her couch and losing herself in a Netflix binge.

Her car, a reliable little sedan, buzzed softly as she cruised down the quiet city streets. She sighed, tuning out the low hum of traffic around her. It was just another day, nothing special. That is, until—

BANG!

Y/N’s heart lurched as her car jerked to the side. She slammed on the brakes, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Her mind raced through what just happened. Did she hit something? Or worse… someone?

Her pulse spiked as she fumbled to unbuckle her seatbelt and threw open the door. But when she stepped out to inspect the damage, the first thing she saw wasn’t a crumpled bumper or a mangled fender. No, it was a sleek, dark blue sports car, glossy and absurdly out of place against the backdrop of regular vehicles. Her little sedan had smacked into the rear of it.

“Great,” she muttered, pushing a hand through her hair. Her car had bumped into what was probably one of the most expensive cars in the city, if not the country.

And standing beside it, inspecting the minor damage with a furrowed brow and an expression that was a blend of frustration and disbelief, was none other than Lando Norris. Though Y/N had no clue who he was. To her, he was just some annoyed guy standing next to his ruined car.

“What were you even doing?!” the man exclaimed, turning towards her with his arms outstretched in exasperation. His voice held a British lilt, his tone more incredulous than angry.

Y/N froze. “I—I didn’t see you! You came out of nowhere!”

“Out of nowhere?” he echoed, shaking his head as he knelt to inspect his McLaren’s bumper. There was a tiny dent, barely noticeable, but to him, it was as if the whole car had been wrecked. He took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm himself.

Y/N bit her lip, anxiety creeping up her spine. Her mind was a mess—how much was this going to cost her? Could insurance even cover damages on a car that expensive? This whole situation was unreal.

But then something strange happened.

The man, still crouched by the car, lifted his head to look at her properly for the first time. His eyes met hers, and his expression softened. He blinked, standing slowly as if he was trying to process something. His initial frustration seemed to melt away, replaced by a bemused sort of interest.

“Uh… Are you okay?” he asked, his tone much gentler now, his earlier irritation completely gone.

Y/N blinked. Wasn’t he supposed to be mad at her? She had just hit his expensive car, after all. Why was he suddenly acting so… concerned?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m just… sorry about your car.”

Lando, however, waved her apology away like it was nothing. “Don’t worry about the car. It’s really not that bad.”

Y/N gave him a skeptical look. “Really? Because it looks like I did a number on it.”

He glanced back at the car, then at her, before letting out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, well, it’s just a car. What matters is that you’re alright.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. This guy was acting way too nice for someone whose luxury car had just been rear-ended. She couldn’t help but feel like there was something off about his sudden shift in mood.

“Okay…” she trailed off awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. “But still, we should probably exchange insurance info. I don’t know how much this is going to cost to fix.”

Lando’s expression brightened at the mention of exchanging information, and for a split second, Y/N swore she saw a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, insurance,” he replied, reaching for his phone, “but honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. I can handle it on my own. Maybe we can just forget about it? I could… help you out.”

Y/N’s confusion deepened. Help her out? Wasn’t it her fault in the first place? Why was he acting like this was no big deal? And why was he looking at her like that, like he was trying to keep her there longer than necessary?

Lando shifted his weight, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t mean to sound weird, but… do you, uh, live around here?”

“Why?” Y/N asked cautiously, narrowing her eyes at him.

Lando chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. He suddenly felt like a nervous schoolboy, which was ridiculous because he was Lando Norris, F1 driver and world-class athlete, yet here he was fumbling over his words.

“Well, I just thought maybe we could grab a coffee or something. You know, after we sort all this out.”

Y/N blinked at him, utterly bewildered. “Wait. You want to get coffee? With me? After I just hit your car?”

Lando shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Yeah. Why not? Accidents happen. And… I guess I think you’re kind of cute.”

Her eyes widened. Was this guy for real? She’d just crashed into his sports car and now he was trying to flirt with her?

“Uh… I don’t even know your name,” she said slowly, still trying to wrap her head around the situation.

He grinned, sticking out his hand. “I’m Lando. Lando Norris.”

She stared at his outstretched hand for a moment before taking it hesitantly. “Y/N. And, um… nice to meet you?”

Lando’s smile widened, his earlier frustration completely forgotten as he focused entirely on her. “Nice to meet you too, Y/N. So, about that coffee…”

“I’m sorry, are you seriously asking me out right now?” she asked, a slight laugh escaping her lips. “After I hit your car?”

Lando shrugged again, that mischievous glint back in his eyes. “What can I say? I’m a pretty forgiving guy.”

Y/N shook her head, still half-expecting this whole thing to be some sort of bizarre dream. “Okay, but… you didn’t even get my insurance information yet. Isn’t that why we’re still standing here?”

Lando waved a dismissive hand. “Like I said, it’s really no big deal. I’ll take care of it. Just… let me get your number, and we’ll figure it out from there.”

Now she was really suspicious. “My number?”

He grinned sheepishly. “For the insurance, of course.”

Y/N stared at him, trying to figure out if he was messing with her or if he was actually being serious. She wasn’t sure what was stranger—the fact that he was acting like the accident was nothing or the fact that he seemed more interested in getting her number than fixing his expensive car.

But there was something about him, something oddly charming, even though the whole situation was insane. Maybe it was his easygoing nature or the way he didn’t seem to care about the damage at all. Or maybe it was the way he kept looking at her, like she was the most interesting person he’d met all day.

With a sigh, she reached for her phone. “Fine. But I’m giving you my number strictly for insurance purposes.”

Lando’s grin grew wider, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Strictly insurance purposes. Got it.”

As she handed him her number, Y/N couldn’t help but shake her head in disbelief. What had started as a minor accident was quickly turning into the weirdest encounter of her life.

“Alright,” she said, putting her phone away, “I’ve gotta go. But, um, thanks for not being too mad about the car.”

Lando chuckled, leaning casually against his McLaren. “Like I said, it’s just a car. But you… well, you’re worth more than any car.”

Y/N stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or be weirded out by the line. “Uh, okay. Well… take care.”

As she got back into her car, Lando watched her with a grin still on his face. Maybe the accident wasn’t so bad after all. After all, he’d managed to meet someone who had caught his attention in a way no one else had.

And as Y/N drove away, still shaking her head at the absurdity of it all, she couldn’t help but wonder just what she’d gotten herself into.

-

The weekend had finally arrived, and despite the awkward car crash, Y/N had managed to put it out of her mind. She wasn’t expecting to hear from Lando again. After all, rich guys like him probably had people to take care of things like insurance claims. She figured she’d given him her number for nothing more than a courtesy exchange.

That was, until her phone buzzed the next morning.

She glanced at the screen, eyebrows shooting up at the unknown number. Hesitating for a second, she finally opened the message.

Lando: Hey, it’s Lando. The guy whose car you hit? Not sure if you remember me, but I’ve got some paperwork for insurance and stuff. Thought we could meet up and go over it?

Y/N rolled her eyes, half-amused. It was still weird to her that someone so nonchalant about the accident was bothering to text her. She tapped out a quick response.

Y/N: Yeah, I remember. Where and when?

He replied almost immediately.

Lando: How about that coffee I mentioned? There’s a café in the city, small, chill. We can talk there?

Coffee again? He really wasn’t subtle. Y/N bit her lip, debating. She didn’t have anything to do that afternoon anyway, and she supposed she owed him at least a meeting about the insurance.

So, reluctantly, she agreed.

-

The café Lando had suggested was tucked away on a quiet street corner, its large windows letting in the warm afternoon sun. Y/N pushed open the door, immediately greeted by the rich scent of roasted coffee beans. She scanned the room, expecting Lando to be hidden away somewhere.

Instead, she saw him immediately.

Sitting casually at a table near the window, dressed in a simple hoodie and jeans, he waved when he saw her. His face lit up with a boyish grin that made him seem far less intimidating than the guy she’d crashed into just days before.

“Hey,” he greeted as she approached, standing to pull out a chair for her. “You made it.”

“Yeah, well, I figured we should get this insurance stuff sorted,” she replied, sitting down. She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on her just a bit longer than necessary.

Lando chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, the insurance thing…”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest. “You did bring the paperwork, right? That’s why we’re here?”

He looked slightly sheepish, then reached into his bag and pulled out a few documents. “Of course. Got everything right here.”

She eyed him suspiciously, but nodded. “Okay, good. Let’s get it over with.”

Lando handed her the papers, but as she scanned them, he leaned back in his chair, watching her with an amused expression. He wasn’t saying anything, but Y/N could practically feel his eyes on her.

Finally, she looked up. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Just… you’re very focused. Kind of cute.”

Y/N groaned, shaking her head. “Are you seriously flirting with me right now? This is the second time you’ve done that.”

Lando shrugged, his grin widening. “Can’t help it. You kind of walked into my life by crashing into my car. Feels like fate, doesn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Or just bad driving.”

“Or that,” he agreed with a laugh.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his easygoing attitude. There was something about him that made it hard to stay annoyed. He had this infectious charm, the kind that made you forget about everything else. She didn’t know much about him, other than his name and the fact that he clearly had a lot of money, but there was something undeniably likable about him.

Still, she wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily.

“So, Lando,” she began, setting the papers down, “what exactly do you do? Because you’ve got a really fancy car, and you act like a guy who’s used to getting what he wants.”

His grin didn’t falter. “You don’t know?”

She shook her head. “No clue. Should I?”

Lando leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Well, I’m a Formula 1 driver. Kind of a big deal in motorsport.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment, processing his words. Then she blinked, completely unfazed. “Okay, so… you’re like a racecar driver?”

He laughed at how nonchalantly she said it. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Huh.” She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. “That explains the car.”

“Explains a lot of things,” he teased, his eyes twinkling. “Still, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me. It’s kind of refreshing, actually.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“Most people know who I am,” he admitted. “It’s nice to meet someone who doesn’t immediately treat me like I’m… you know, famous.”

“Well, lucky for you, I don’t follow racing,” she said with a small smile. “I’m just trying to figure out why a guy like you is wasting time flirting with a girl who wrecked his car.”

Lando leaned forward, his playful expression softening slightly. “Because maybe I like that girl who wrecked my car.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the sudden sincerity in his tone. She wasn’t sure what to make of this whole situation. The flirty banter was one thing, but now it felt like there was something more behind his words. Something genuine.

“I don’t get it,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “We’ve barely talked. You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” Lando replied, his gaze locking with hers. “And I want to get to know more.”

Y/N swallowed, feeling a strange mix of nerves and curiosity. This wasn’t what she’d expected when she agreed to meet him. She thought it would be a quick, awkward conversation about insurance, not… this.

“Lando, I don’t even know if I want to date someone right now,” she admitted, unsure of what else to say.

He nodded, his expression serious. “That’s fair. I’m not asking for anything big. Just… let me take you out sometime. No pressure. If you don’t like it, we’ll call it even, and you never have to see me again.”

Y/N hesitated, searching his face for any sign that he was messing with her. But all she saw was sincerity. He wasn’t being pushy or demanding, just… hopeful.

After a long pause, she finally sighed. “Fine. One date. But if you turn out to be some crazy celebrity playboy, I’m out.”

Lando’s grin returned, brighter than ever. “Deal.”

-

A week later, Y/N found herself walking into a small, intimate restaurant Lando had chosen for their first date. She was nervous, still unsure about the whole thing, but when she saw him waiting at the entrance with that same goofy grin, her nerves eased a little.

The night went better than she could’ve imagined. Lando wasn’t just some cocky racecar driver—he was funny, down-to-earth, and surprisingly sweet. He asked about her job, her hobbies, her favorite books, and genuinely seemed interested in everything she said. By the end of the night, Y/N realized she was actually having fun.

As they left the restaurant, Lando walked her to her car, the same little sedan that had started this whole mess. He turned to her, hands in his pockets, a slightly shy smile on his face.

“So,” he began, “how was it? Am I still in your good books, or are you planning to never see me again?”

Y/N smiled, shaking her head. “You’re still in the good books.”

“Good to know,” Lando replied, relief evident in his voice. “I guess that means I can ask for another date?”

Y/N bit her lip, pretending to think about it. “Yeah, I guess you can.”

Lando’s grin was contagious, and before Y/N knew it, she was smiling too.

And just like that, a minor collision had turned into something unexpected. Something more.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also hey anon! If you read this, I hope that this is what you had in mind!

[firewasabeast]

“Hey, it's me!” Tommy called out as he entered Evan's place.

“I- In the living room,” Buck replied, sounding a little anxious.

“You ready to head to the gym?” Tommy clapped his hands together as he headed toward Buck.

When he got into the living room, Buck was sitting a chair, sweatpants and hoodie on.

Tommy felt something was off right away. Especially when Buck made no effort to get up, or even look in Tommy's direction.

“You okay?” Tommy asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah,” Buck answered, tugging the hood further over his head. “Still don't know why we couldn't just practice Muay Thai at your place.”

“Because when we practice Muay Thai at my place we end up naked on the mat.”

“And that's a bad thing?” Evan tried to sound cheeky, but it was more awkward than anything with the way he continued to lower his head, trying to cover his entire face with his hoodie.

Tommy crossed his arms. “Evan, what's wrong? Why won't you look at me?”

“Nothing! No reason. Let's go!” Buck went to stand, but Tommy held out his arm to keep him in place.

“Evan, what's going on? Did something happen at work? Did you get hurt? Did someone hit you?” he asked, each question filled with more concern.

“No, no, it's-” Buck took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Hesitantly, he reached up and pulled his hoodie down, then angled his face up toward Tommy.

Tommy didn't mean to let out a gasp, or jump back the way he did at the sight of Evan's face, but he couldn't help it. The blisters scattered over his face and neck looked like something straight out of a horror film.

“Wow, thanks,” Buck muttered, grabbing his phone. “Just what every guy wants their boyfriend to do when they look at them.”

“No, I- Evan, I'm sorry, I just...” he leaned in to get a better look. “What the hell happened?”

Buck looked at himself through the camera on his phone. “It's not that bad, is it?”

“It... It's not good. I think we need to get you to the hospital.”

“No, I don't wanna go to the hospital like this, Tommy. They'll quarantine me or something!”

“Honey, that might be what you need,” Tommy replied pointedly.

“Tommy!”

“Evan, I don't... I don't know what this is. You've gotta be in pain.”

“It- It's not too bad.”

“Evan.”

“Stop saying my name like that,” Buck whined.

“You just said my name like that.”

“Tommy!”

“Evan!”

“Okay, okay, that's enough,” Buck said, getting up from his chair. “Let's go do some Muay Thai.”

“You've got to be joking. We are not going to the gym.”

“Great!” Buck smiled, wincing slightly at the pain it caused. “Your place it is.”

Tommy sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Buck's face fell. “What are you doing?”

“I'm texting Eddie.”

“You are not texting Eddie.”

“I am too texting Eddie.”

“Tommy!”

“Evan!”

“Ugh!” Buck rolled his eyes, turning and heading for the kitchen.

“Babe, if you won't go to the hospital, you can at least have Eddie come check you out,” Tommy said, following behind Buck, “because I don't know what this is and I have a feeling you don't either.”

“Actually, I do.” Buck reached into his fridge and grabbed a water, then turned back to Tommy.

“Okay? Enlighten me, please.”

“It's a curse.”

Tommy stared at Buck for a moment. A few moments actually. Blinking once, twice, before, “Yeah, I'm texting Eddie.”

“No, I'm serious,” Buck said as Tommy sent the text. “See, I- I bought a mummy for work.”

Tommy gently set his phone down on the counter, nodding. “As one does.”

“Exactly. And, I- I didn't know it was a real mummy. Price was definitely too low for that.”

“Wait a minute. You bought a real mummy?”

“Unknowingly,” Buck clarified.

Tommy had dealt with a lot of odd things in his life. And he couldn't deny that dating Evan made his world even more odd and eccentric, but this definitely took the cake.

“Okay, Evan, I... you aren't cursed.”

“Take a good look at this, Tommy,” Buck said, leaning over the countertop. “This is a curse.”

“That,” Tommy replied, gesturing toward Evan's face, “is probably some sort of infection. Possibly from touching a decaying corpse.”

Buck reached up, feeling just below one of the blisters. “It does kinda hurt.”

“And that's why-” Tommy paused as his phone buzzed. He picked it up and read the text, then turned it to show Buck, “that's why Eddie will be here in about fifteen minutes. Why don't we get you back to the couch while we wait?” He motioned for Buck to come around the counter. As Buck rounded the corner and neared him, Tommy held out his hands and guided Buck back toward the living room without touching him.

“Are you avoiding contact with me?” Buck questioned, glancing back at him with a glare.

“Until I find out if this is some sort of plague, I'm maintaining proper distance.”

Buck plopped down on the couch while Tommy opted for the chair Buck hadn't been sitting in when he first arrived.

“So, no Muay Thai today, huh?”

“No, no Muay Thai.”

Buck sighed dramatically, looking over at Tommy with his pouty eyes on display. “No sexy time either?”

There had been many times over the last nearly six months that Tommy had thought, I'd give him whatever he wanted. Anything he asked for, wouldn't even question it.

This was not one of those times.

He swore one of the blisters had gotten bigger just since he'd arrived.

He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

[ariestrxsh]

🖤 content warning: 🖤 smut, sneaking around, getting caught, jealousy, daddy kink, praise/degradation, sensory deprivation (blindfold), threesome, oral(m!receiving), unprotected sex, jealous!matt, jealous!chris, sneaky!reader

🖤 summary: 🖤 while exchanging information about their sex lives, matt and chris find out you've been hooking up with them both behind the other's back.

i got this idea from @sturnobessed who had the idea for this plot, and it was also heavily inspired by these two edits ( 1 & 2) that make me cum everytime. okay, enjoy! (also, chat, i think i might be a chratt girl???)

soaked

"Who are you textin'?" Chris collapsed down onto the couch, teasingly nudging his brother Matt, who was smirking down at his phone. "Just a girl I've been talking to," Matt vaguely responded, eyes glued to your text. "Is that code for fucking?" Chris chuckled, nudging him again. "It might be," Matt replied, silently reading the dirty message you'd just sent him:

"In desperate need of your cock. Come over. I'll do that party trick with my mouth that you like so much."

"How long have you guys been talking?" Chris asked his brother, eager to hear more about the girl that had him smiling like that. "A few weeks. It's nothing serious. We're just messing around," Matt shrugged, still gazing down at his phone screen. "I've been talking to a girl for about the same amount of time. She's really fucking hot," Chris bragged. "Can't be hotter than my girl," Matt scoffed.

"She does this thing when she's giving me head," Chris started to say, but then he stopped himself. "Go on. Finish your sentence," Matt perked up, curious to hear what he was going to say. "She just does this thing with she teases the tip with her tongue while she's sucking and bobbing up and down on it. And she'll moan while she does it. It's like, multi-dimensional," Chris relayed, his cock twitching at the thought of it.

"Wait, because my girl does the same exact technique," Matt narrowed his eyes at his brother. "I mean, that's probably common. I don't know. I haven't gotten head from that many people, but I didn't know it was possible for someone to do that many things with their mouth at one time. She calls it her party trick," Chris responded, running his fingers through his hair. His body temperature was rising just thinking about it.

Matt stared intently off into the distance, taking in this familiar information. "Chris, I think we may be fucking the same girl," Matt admitted after a few seconds of silence. "No way. What would even be the odds of that ever happening?" Chris gave the boy to his left a skeptical look.

"On the count of three, say her name," Matt replied, setting down his phone and turning towards his brother. They counted to three in unison, and then at the same time, your name passed through both of their lips. The two of them stared at each other with widening eyes and dropped jaws as it dawned on them that you might have been sleeping with both of them behind the other's back.

"There's only one way to know for sure," Matt said, picking up his cellphone and going to his gallery. "I'll pull up a picture of my girl, and you pull up a picture of yours," Chris suggested, flipping through his camera roll. They placed their phones side-by-side, each clicking on your photo and confirming their suspicions.

"Holy shit, it's the same girl," Matt replied. He felt jealousy coursing through his veins. "I mean, I'm not planning on dating her. Is it weird if we both just keep fucking her?" Chris wondered out loud, laughing. "I have a better idea. What if we confront her?" Matt asked with a twinkle in his eye. This idea piqued Chris' interest. "I'm listening."

"She's texting me right now, practically begging me to go over and do her. What if we both show up?" Matt devilishly grinned at his brother. "Why the fuck is she texting you and not me?" Chris asked, checking to see if the service on his phone was working. "Maybe I just give better dick than you," Matt nonchalantly responded, knowing how to push his brother's buttons.

"Or maybe she's just saving the best for last. You know, asking you to come over first as a warm up before she invites me over later to finish her off," Chris shot back. Matt punched Chris in the arm. Hard. "We'll see about that," Matt muttered. "What do you mean? Are you suggesting we..?" Chris raised an eyebrow at Matt.

"I'm suggesting we make her choose. Have her tell us who fucks her better. She put us in an uncomfortable situation, and now we're going to put her in an uncomfortable situation," Matt shrugged. "Get even. I like it," Chris nodded, impressed by his brother's plan.

"I'm on my way over. Leave your door unlocked. Wear that pretty lingerie set I like. I want you blindfolded and waiting for me when I get there," Matt maliciously texted back.

Matt couldn't help that he was always one step ahead of everyone. He wanted to get back at both of you, at you, for lying to him and at Chris, for his smart mouth.

He drove over to your house, going a bit faster than normal. The entire time he was death gripping the steering wheel and clenching his jaw. Chris sat beside him playing a new Lil Skies song as they cruised through the winding roads and mountains to your place.

"So, what's the game plan?" Chris asked Matt as the two of them pulled into your driveway. "She doesn't know we know yet. I told her to wait up there in her room for me. Blindfolded. Just follow my lead. Let me do the talking," Matt relayed to Chris as they got out of the car and let themselves inside.

Matt held his finger up to his lips as they made their way up the stairs, trying to synchronize their steps as much as possible, so you couldn't distinguish between their two sets of footsteps. Matt rested his hand on the doorknob of your room and began to turn the handle.

"I've been waiting for you," you lustfully responded, laying on your bed with your legs spread while you were in your pink lingerie with a matching blindfold covering your eyes. They both took in the sight, burning your image into their memories.

"Hey, baby. Sorry it took so long. My brother, Chris and I had to clear something up before I could come over," Matt smirked at the way you laid there, unsuspecting. "Oh, yeah? Well I hope you guys got it figured out," you nibbled on your lip, nervous to hear Matt say his brother's name. "Oh, we sure did. You look so pretty, baby," Matt said, wandering over towards you and starting to run his fingers under the pretty fabric of your panties. You let out a soft whine.

"What are you doing?" Chris silently mouthed to Matt with a confused expression. Matt held his finger to his lips again while he gazed into Chris' eyes. "Trust me," Matt silently replied. Chris read his brother's lips, but he couldn't help but be skeptical of him.

"I know you don't like to talk about the other guys you see, and don't get me wrong, we're not official or anything, so I respect that. But wouldn't it be hot if I fucked you in front of one of them and made them watch?" Matt asked you, a malicious smile overcoming his face while he pulled his dick out of his sweatpants.

"Oh, my god. That does sound kind of hot," you whimpered back as Matt pulled your panties to the side and started teasing your hole with his tip. Chris' jaw tightened as he realized what Matt was doing. He was totally cucking him.

"I know you must really like those other guys you entertain, but you must like me the most, huh? Is that why you're always begging me to come over and ruin you?" Matt cooed, sinking into your heat. "Ahhh. Yes, daddy. You treat my pussy so good," you murmured back, adjusting to his thick rod as it stretched you out.

"Tell me I do it the best," Matt replied, glancing up at Chris, who was shocked, angry, and admittedly a little turned on. "You do it the best, daddy. No one could ever fuck me as hard as you," you cried out as Matt started thrusting inside of you. Chris' cock twitched as he listened to you moaning his favorite word to hear during sex, daddy.

"You know. We have a little bit of a problem, sweetheart. Daddy knows you've been naughty," Matt cooed, still picking up the speed as he pounded into you. "Yeah? Have I been a naughty girl?" You wondered in a flirtatious tone, assuming it was all part of the role play.

"You know you have. Why did you lie to me and tell me you've never met my brothers, hmm?" Matt asked in a sweet sounding voice, but his intentions were far from it. You gulped. "I haven't. I've never spoken to Chris," you said defensively, hoping Matt wasn't onto you. "Blowing your cover already. I didn't say which brother. You know, you're not a very good liar," he replied to you.

"I-I'm not lying," you said in a quiet voice. Panic flooded your system. You thought you'd done such a good job at sneaking around with both of them, making sure they'd never crossed paths when leaving and coming to your house.

"I'm not enough for you, huh? You need my brother, too?" Matt smirked, still rocking his hips back and forth. "I don't know why he'd say that," you responded in between moans, still playing dumb. "Yeah? You think he's just jealous or something?" Matt asked.

"Yeah, maybe he's just jealou- oh!" You whimpered as Matt grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, filling you to the hilt with his length. "If he's never met you, then why does he know about that thing you do with your mouth?" Matt questioned you. "I don't know what you mean," you bluffed.

"Sure, you do. I know how proud you are of that trick. Remember? You used it to make me cum a few days ago? I complimented you on it," Matt grunted. You reached up to peek under your blindfold, but Matt stopped you. "Ah, ah, ah. No peeking," he swatted your hand away. "How does he know about it?" Matt asked again, his voice becoming more stern, envy seeping into his tone.

Your stomach dropped, and you swallowed hard. You decided to double down. "I don't know, daddy. I don't know how he knows," you whined as Matt pumped into you mercilessly. "Well, he seems to know a lot about it, so why don't you ask him?" Matt chuckled.

"Ask him?" You said with a confused inflection. "Yeah. Since you don't know, just ask him yourself," Matt said, removing the blindfold you had wrapped around your head and throwing it back at you. Your gaze immediately met the eyes of the brother you didn't even know was in the room with you yet. "Chris," his name escaped your lips as more of a sultry moan. "Yeah, now you know who he is, don't you? Does he make you cum as hard as I do, baby?" Matt asked, leaning over and grazing your cheek with the back of his hand.

You nervously shifted your glance between both of them. Fuck, you thought to yourself. "I thought I was the only one you called daddy in bed," Chris told you with a twinge of jealousy and hurt in his voice, taking a few steps closer to you.

"So, we don't really appreciate that you've been keeping us both a secret from the other, and we're gonna make you choose. Which one of us do you want more?" Matt wondered, studying your pathetic expression while he hit your sweet spot. "I can't choose," you softly mewled, shaking your head.

"Come on, sweetheart. Just pick one. Who fucks you better, hmm?" Chris asked, coming around to the side of the bed to brush a few stray hairs out of your face. "Yeah. Pick one. Who's it gonna be?" Matt chimed in. "Both of you," you whispered.

"What was that, sweetheart? Speak up," Chris smirked down at your needy expression and started teasing your nipples through your pretty, pink bra. "Both of you," you cried out. "Both of us?" Matt chuckled at how desperate you sounded. "If I can't have you both at the same time, then I don't want either one of you," you said in a bratty tone.

"Yeah, sure. I've had to share my toys with Chris my whole life, and now I have to share my favorite one?" Matt sighed and rolled his eyes. "You really can't pick just one? You know I get jealous easy," Chris peered down at you lustfully, pulling out his throbbing member and sliding it between your lips.

"Yeah. Come on. Don't you know I'm the jealous type, too, baby?" Matt cooed, reaching down and stimulating your clit with his thumb. "Such a greedy little slut. One of us isn't enough to satisfy you, hmm? Open up," Chris demanded, You stuck out your tongue, and Chris began gently tapping the head of his dick against your tastebuds while he reached into your lacy bra and cupped your breast.

"It's okay, baby, you don't have to lie to spare Matt's feelings. I know I make you feel so much better than he ever could," Chris whimpered, running his pink tip along your soft tongue. "I bet Chris has never made you squirt like I did the other night," Matt shot back, digging his fingers into the fleshy insides of your thighs while he rammed into you.

"Who cares if you made her squirt once?" Chris sneered at Matt. "Remember when I made you cum five times in a row last weekend, baby?" Chris turned his attention back to you, sinking more of his length behind your pouty lips. "Five times?! Jesus, Chris. Quality over quantity," Matt ranted.

"Come on, babe. Do that little thing I like," Chris cooed, ignoring his brother and stroking your cheek. You generously bobbed your head while you circled his tip with your tongue, suckling as you did so and moaning against all his sensitive nerve-endings.

You loved the way Chris reacted to your party trick. The way he'd hold eye contact and grip the back of your head while smiling and biting his lip. You relished in the sweet sounds from Chris that filled your ears as a bit of his pre-cum pooled onto your tastebuds.

Matt continued jackhammerimg into you, bringing you to the brink of orgasm. "You don't even have the patience to edge her and make her squirt, do you?" Matt snarked at Chris. "Why the fuck would I wait when I can make her finish over and over?" Chris retorted.

The way they were arguing with one another, fighting over you, and taking verbal jabs at each other made you clench around Matt. Chris grabbed ahold of your hair while you hummed against his cock, and you stared into his beautiful blue eyes.

"Don't fucking look at him. I'm the one making you cum right now," Matt glared at you while you came undone around him. "Maybe I'm just more fun to look at," Chris shot back, giving you a devilish grin. You glanced between them both, unsure of who to give your attention to. You couldn't get enough of either one of them.

Your climax washed over you, trapping you in its riptide and flooding your system with immense waves of pleasure, ebbing and flowing through every inch of you. Soon, you weren't looking at either one of them, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, but both of their mental images played on the insides of your eyelids.

It was happening again. You felt yourself squirt, your fluids spurting all over Matt's rod as the knot in your stomach came unraveled. Your whole body violently shook as you soaked your sheets, and you let out a slew of delighted sounds as you finished.

"See how good I make her feel?" Matt snarked at his brother. "Just wait until it's my turn to make her cream all over my cock," Chris challenged. After your orgasm subsided, you breathlessly shifted your gaze between them again. They each slowed their movements, pulled themselves out of you, and switched places.

"Why don't you clean up the mess you made?" Matt suggested, a double meaning in his words while he shoved his sensitive head between your lips. Chris lined himself up with your entrance and slowly pushed in his tip, letting you get used to him inch by inch. He watched the way he disappeared into your hole, flickering his gaze up at your desperate expression.

He gently rested his hand on your lower stomach and started applying pressure while he was inside of you, deviously smirking up at you while your eyes rolled back once more. Matt sweetly smiled down at you and the way you generously accepted him.

"That's it. Show me that trick again," Matt demanded. You obediently listened, encircling all his favorite nerve endings with your tongue while you sucked on it. You pumped him in and out of your mouth while your lips vibrated against him, and you watched his reaction.

You loved watching him lose his composure, the way his forehead would wrinkle, and the way his jaw would drop. Matt's knees grew weak, and his eyes lost focus as you swirled your tongue around on it. "You're so good at that," he whimpered, savoring the sensation.

"Stop watching him," Chris gently smacked his hand against your face a few times to pull you out of the trance Matt had you in. "Look at me instead," he said with an imperative and dominant tone. Your eyes shot up at Chris, who was burrowed deep inside of you. "Don't listen to him. Look at me," Matt cooed, carressing your face and tilting it further in his direction.

"Matt can fuck off. Listen to me. Look me in the eyes while you cum for me," Chris commanded you, maintaining his stamina and tilting your chin to make you watch him instead. "Shut up, Chris," Matt barked, fucking your face. "You shut up. Let her enjoy how good I make her feel," Chris shot back, his tip getting to all your hard-to-reach places.

An explosive feeling brewed deep within you. You could feel your heat rhythmically clenching around Chris as you reached your climax. Your juices flowed out of you, coating Chris' length in your essence. "One," Chris counted, smirking down at you.

You felt desire burning in your core as he continued pumping in and out of you after he made you finish, coaxing another orgasm out of you. "Two," Chris cooed, mercilessly fucking you harder than before. You lost control of your body, giving into the throes of ecstasy that overtook you. Your legs trembled as you reached your third climax in a row.

"Three," Chris grunted, pumping in and out of your pink hole that was drooling all over his dick. You felt yourself fluttering in and out of consciousness as Chris pulled climax after climax out of you. "Okay, I get the point, Chris," Matt replied. "Get on your fucking knees, you two-timing slut," Chris commanded you.

You obediently fell to your knees in front of them and opened your mouth for them. They both fervently pumped their cocks back and forth while you hungrily waited to swallow their loads.

Simultaneously they each finished onto your tongue, filling your tastebuds with their flavor and moaning in unison as they smirked down at you. You loved the way they looked, towering over you with the pleasure you made them feel engraved into their expressions.

"You really can't choose, huh?" Chris asked, peering down at the mess you were after they were done. You glanced back and forth between them with your big doe eyes as you wiped their cum from the corners of your lips, "I can't. I really mean it."

taglist: @m00n-llght @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova @stellarsturns @lelesturniolo @sturniolodoll

[hoshifighting]

how would svt members ask for a kiss, please? 🥺🤲 who would be all cute saying "babe, can i get a kiss?" or who would be pratical, just going 😙 and waiting for their partner to respond, idk.

seungcheol’s the kind of guy who’ll straight-up say, “come here, give me a kiss,” but it’s not a question, more like a demand with a cheeky smirk. he’s already pulling you closer by the waist, not waiting for an answer. you’re basically getting that kiss whether you want to or not, but let’s be real—you want to. “don’t make me wait, babe.”

jeonghan would be sneaky about it. he wouldn’t even ask; he’d just casually lean in, real close, like he’s about to say something important, and then—boom. lips on yours.. he lives for catching you off guard, especially when you blush after.

joshua’s too sweet about it. “babe, can i get a kiss? 🥺” he’d say it so soft and shy, with those puppy eyes you can’t resist. his hand’s already resting on your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin, like he’s prepping you for it. and when you finally lean in, he’s smiling so big, like it’s the highlight of his day.

jun won’t say much; he’ll just walk up, grab your chin between his thumb and forefinger, and tilt your head up slightly. he gives you that little smirk of his, then leans in without a word.

hoshi would be over the top, of course. he’d start off all pouty, “baaaaabe, i want a kiss! 😩” dragging it out, aegyo mode. if you tease him and act like you won’t kiss him, he’ll dramatically fall on the couch like he’s dying from lack of affection. “you’re really gonna let me suffer like this?”

wonwoo will just look at you, no words needed, eyes flicking to your lips and back up to your eyes, his hand will slip into yours, giving it a soft squeeze, he’s letting you come to him, and when you do, he meets you halfway.

woozi’s practical, but in his own way. he’ll be sitting next to you, working on something, and just randomly look over. “can i get a kiss real quick?” he says it like he’s asking you to pass him the remote, so casual, but there’s that little glint in his eyes that tells you he’s been thinking about it for a while.

seokmin would be a cutie too, and even after months, years of relationship, he will be kind of shy to ask directly. “hey, hey, can i have a kiss?” he’d ask, full smile, leaning in like he’s already expecting it. when you finally give in, he’d pull back with a big, satisfied grin. then he’d tease you, “wow, that was the best kiss ever, let’s do it again!”

mingyu’s straightforward. he’ll just stand in front of you, hands on your hips, leaning in close. “kiss me.” and when you hesitate just a second too long, he’ll lean in more, brushing his lips over yours just enough to make you want more.

minghao’s chill, but he makes it special. he’ll wait for a quiet moment, then gently tuck your hair behind your ear, “may i kiss you?” he says, his voice low, almost like it’s a secret between just the two of you. and when you nod, he does the pouty face, his juicy lips looking so cute while doing it.

seungkwan “what do i gotta do to get a kiss around here?” he’ll joke, pretending to be so offended that you haven’t kissed him yet today. but the second you lean in, he’s suddenly shy, laughing nervously before his lips meet yours. “see? that wasn’t so hard,” he’ll tease afterward, but his blush gives him away.

vernon’s the type to not say much. he’ll just kinda lean in, lips pursed, making the 😙 face until you laugh and give him what he wants. “thanks,” he’ll say with a small grin, like it’s no big deal, but he's the type that can get hard just from it, making you two wait inside the care before walking out.

chan would take the opportunity to kiss you every time, everywhere. he’ll sit next to you, kinda fidgeting, then eventually just blurt out, “can i get a kiss?” his friends, your friends, probably saw this view more than they can count.

[kkcauseway]

Forever and Always

Joel Miller x F!reader.

Summary I Your work life is awful and there's nothing you want more after an exhausting day both mentally and physically than to come home to Joel, but on calling him and finding out that's not possible you're dreading the thought of going home to be alone. However, it doesn't seem that that's the case once you actually make it back, and it turns into once of the best and happiest nights of your life. Content/warnings I So much cute fluff, Joel Miller being the most doting and caring boyfriend. 'babygirl', Joel has a cute little saying to let reader know just how much he loves her. Asking to move in together. No use of y/n, no outbreak. A/N I Once again another random idea that popped into my head that I decided to run with. I really hope you enjoy soppy, cute Joel taking care of his woman!

Main masterlist

It always puts a smile on his face when you call. Your name working wonders for the grumpy moods he finds himself in on jobs. Even with the jokes he cracks with Tommy. Nothing compares to when he’s with you, talking to you. Just doing anything that involves you. “Hey baby you, okay?” His husky voice grumbles down the receiver once he’s removed himself away from the bustle of the house, he’s currently working in.

“Joel?” You sniff.

His smile falters. Something is obviously wrong, and whatever’s happened he’ll kill them. No one upsets you. “Babe? Hey, hey what’s wrong?”

“I- sniff- I’m just having such a horrible day. I can’t stand this job anyone, I wana quit so bad. Please can you come over when I finish?” The sobs grow in volume as you force a hand to your mouth to try to quiet them. The impact of hearing those words leave your own mouth proving to you just how much you rely on him.

“Oh baby m’so sorry you’re having a shitty day. Listen we’re on a bad job today m’not gonna finish till super late so I most likely can’t come round. But I’ll call you later okay y’can tell me all about it okay baby. Promise.”

“Okay” you sniff upset he can’t come but you knew he was busy and that it was a long shot. You pine after him when you feel vulnerable like this.

“You know I love you, don’t you?” He grumbles evidently worried he’s in the doghouse.

“I know. I love you too so much.”

“Forever and always baby girl.”

The words making your heart flutter as they always do.

When the call cuts you hold your phone against your chest and sob a little more before psyching yourself up for your afternoon. Your colleagues don’t deserve to know just how bad they make you feel, they’d probably thrive on it if they knew.

So, instead you sort yourself out wash your face, wait till your eyes are less puffy, paint on your smile and go about the remainder of your shift thank fuck it’s Friday.

Of course no one notices, why would they when they make it clear how much they can’t stand you being around.

-

Finally five o’clock arrives and you rush out to your car as quick as you can. Putting on the cheesy cd playlist Joel made you. You love that he’s like that, so unbelievably cheesy, so old fashioned it’s why you adore him the way you do. When yours and Joel’s song comes on tears escape you again. God you’ve never loved someone the way you love him, but these tears you’re spilling are tears of happiness not pain.

When you make it home your shitty mood overcomes you again, the thought of your empty apartment and cold bed. So you settle on the idea of a large glass of red wine, a crappy comfort series and a good cry before you go to sleep. You’re have a day trip with Joel planned tomorrow and that’s enough to keep you going.

However, it’s like you can tell something’s off from the second your key is in the door. After momentarily hesitating you uneasily open your door and those thoughts are made true. Your apartment isn’t dark, cold, nor is it empty. The smell of food hits you so mouth-wateringly beautiful, and the radio is playing softly.

You kick off your shoes and move to the kitchen and there he is, Joel in all his glory slaving away over the stove. Dancing along to the music with an apron round his neck.

He turns to look at you with a smile on his face and it breaks you.

You stand on the spot throw your bag to the floor from your shoulder and cry. But he quickly rushes over “hey shhh it’s okay.” He cradles you close a hand on the back of your head pushing you closer to his chest. Allowing you to inhale his comforting scent.

“S’okay m’here baby.” He mumbles against your hair as he rests his lips against you. Holding you as close as possible.

After a few minutes you pull away red faced and puffy eyes to look up at him. “How did you get here I thought you were busy?”

“M’sorry baby, I know I didn’t think I’d be able to. And I’m so sorry that that made you upset, I really am, but as much as I am super busy at work the second, I heard you cryin’ I knew I needed to make sure I was finishin’ early so I could come over and see you, you mean more to me than any job, any amount of money. So I took a sick day for the remainder.”

“Thankyou” you whisper before moving to grasp at his stubbly cheeks. You smile sadly at him as your thumbs stroke him and then you move your lips to his, kissing him softly.

“I’ve made your favourite baby” he begins once you pull back away. Arms resting round his neck as you stand on your tip toes to be exactly in his eye-line. “And then I want you t’tell me all about this shitty day o’yours so we can get it outa your pretty head. You’re too beautiful to be burdened by that shit.”

You chuckle “I’d really like that, thank you so much for being here.”

“Always baby. Always.”

-

After a long moan fest over Joel’s signature spaghetti and meatballs, you’re cuddling on the couch with your long-awaited red wine.

Your difficult day long forgotten about which is why you love being around him so much, he really does make everything better. Just by being himself- so unapologetically himself.

You’re cuddled into him your feet kicked up behind you as he strokes your side. His calloused fingertips gliding lightly from your hip all the way up to the side of your breast, over and over causing constant goosebumps.

“You know v’been thinkin’” he mumbles softly into the silence.

“Shit did it hurt?” You chuckle as you jest with him, you love when you get the perfect opportunity to use that joke.

He pokes at your side in retaliation, and you giggle into it, loving every second of being with him.

“Seriously now though babygirl, sit up n’look at me.” 

Which you do without a moment’s hesitation. You pull away from him so you can face him sat on your knees.

God he’s gorgeous. His beautiful salt and pepper hair slightly longer than he would like but with you adoring him just like that he refuses to cut it.

He takes your hands in his and god it makes you nervous. Butterflies swim around in your stomach as you stare into each other’s eyes.

“I realised somethin’ today.”

Your breathing increases as you reply “what?”

He takes a nervous breath closing his eyes on the inhale and opening them back up to stare right back at you on the exhale. His perfectly pert lips opening just slightly to let the air out. He clears his throat as he shifts slightly in the seat. “Y’belong with me, all the time, all day every day, and it breaks my heart t’think that you could need me and we ain’t together.”

You smile softly at him, you know your rightful place is with him 24/7, there’s nowhere you’d rather be.

But the next words to leave him are so far from what you expected it’s as though time stands still. “Move in w’me.”

“What?” You’re excited from the moment the words leave his lips, but you’re certain you misheard.

“I want you t’move in with me, get out of this lil apartment. Come make my house ours, let’s always be together. No more late nights alone let’s always be there together even if my stupid fuckin’ job means I get in at 2am.”

You squeal throwing your arms around his neck as you practically pounce on him. “Oh my god yes, yes, yes when?”

He chuckles pushing you back slightly so he’s able to look at you once more. “Well I mean we could start moving ya stuff in tomorrow, I know we said we’d go out for the day but-”

“No!” You say it all too quickly and he laughs “I wana move in let’s do that fuck the plans! We can do that any day!” You forcefully hug him again. Pulling away he’s beaming at you “do you promise you mean it?”

“With all my heart baby.” The hand he has resting on your back moves up and down slowly. So soothing, so full of love.

You scream in excitement before kissing him.

When you eventually pull away you look directly into his hooded eyes. “Forever and always?”

“Forever and always babygirl” and he rubs his nose against yours.

[astrow1zar6]

Astro Observations- 35

Libra Venus’s are usually so artistically gifted but rarely ever believe in their talents. They’re usually really good at thinks like interior design, party planning/decorating, makeup ect. I notice most never believe they’re that good but the stuff they create is so aesthetically pleasing. If they get confident enough they have the ability to run a really successful business just off their creative

Venus in Leo’s also have amazing artistic talent but the only difference is they have a lot more confidence showcasing their art compared to Libra Venus who’s more indecisive about if their work should be displayed. Most Leo Venus’s I meet are amazing drawers and painters and usually make money from their creativity easy. Also this placement is very ambitious, most I see are well educated and usually make a good amount of money ( probably because of their love for luxury they tend to strive higher than most).

Mercury in the 12th house people are always complaining on how no one understands them but also refuses to talk about themselves.

Scorpio moons I feel like are way more sensitive than cancer and Pisces moons. They just conceal it better.

Capricorn moon are the worst people to vent to imo. It’s like emotions are completely foreign to you them you’ll be crying about ur feeling and they’ll just stare at you like “•—•” Aquarius moons can be like that too but I feel like they’re more open to listening to your feelings while cap moons choose to avoid them completely

On the flip side cancer moons I feel like are the best to vent too. I feel like talking to them is such a no judge zone they’ll just listen to you and support you. They’re natural made therapists!

I notice a lot of Virgo suns are obsessed with being popular or seen as “cool”. It’s probably due to their perfectionist tendencies. Can act a little fake to get people to admire them (ESPECIALLY with Libra placements).

Cancer suns with Gemini placements can be big copy cats

Aquarius moons really love music. They have the most unhinged playlists though😂

Usually cancer Venus’s get married and start a family very young. They mature fast in a romantic sense.

Pisces Venus’s attract so many admirers (it’s an exhalted placement) but because of this they can never make up their mind on who to settle down with. No one talks about how bad these people’s commitment issues are especially the men. They can be more indecisive than libra Venus’s.

Virgo moons stop giving advice no one asks for. Lecturing people about their flaws 24/7 will not help fix them

Venus in retrograde individuals tend to lack a lot of social etiquette. People usually perceive these people as rude or disrespectful.

People with Capricorn and Aquarius in their chart are just tooo cool. Everything they do they make look really cool even if they’re picking their nose. They give off a confidence vibe like they just know what they’re doing which causes a lot of people to follow them or try to impress them. Giving CEO vibes.

Aqua Venus’s are really attractive when they act nonchalant and don’t care. The more the look like they don’t care they draw mad ppl in.

Taurus moons are called boring a lot by their peers

Saturn in 5th & 7th house 🤝 taking things way too seriously when it should be fun

[julietsf1]

Love at first fright (🎃) - Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: You don’t know what is scarier, the haunted house where you are interviewing Franco or the way your heart speeds up around him.

Content: cute, journalist!reader

AN: An early halloween treat 🤍 If you guys have cool costume ideas you’re gonna do lmk! have a lovely day sweeties

_____________________________

I’ve interviewed a lot of athletes over the years—serious, stoic, some even downright boring—but Franco Colapinto? He’s my favorite by far. The guy is a natural on camera, always quick-witted, always charming. And, okay, I’d be lying if I said his smile didn’t make it easier to look forward to these interviews. He’s cute, in that effortless way that pulls you in before you even realize it.

Which is why, when I pitched the idea of interviewing him in a haunted house for Halloween, I wasn’t surprised when he immediately said yes. Franco loves goofing around almost as much as he loves racing.

“So, Franco,” I start, grinning as I hold up my mic, “if you weren’t a racing driver, what would you be doing for Halloween?”

We’re standing at the entrance of the haunted house, the camera crew buzzing around us, adjusting their lights and equipment. Franco’s green eyes flicker with amusement as he shoots a glance at the haunted house looming behind us.

“I think I’d watch a scary movie,” he says, that mischievous grin of his spreading across his face. “Or maybe I’d just go scare Lando during one of his livestreams. Seems like a good use of my time.”

I laugh, already caught up in his energy. This is why I love interviewing him—there’s never a dull moment. “Honestly, I’d pay to see that. But tonight, it’s all about you. Ready to face your fears?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Fears? Me? Please.”

I roll my eyes, but it’s hard not to smile when he’s like this—so playful, so at ease. “We’ll see about that. Let’s get going.”

We step inside, and the door creaks ominously behind us. The camera crew follows, their lights casting long, eerie shadows along the corridor. Fake cobwebs hang from the ceiling, and the sound of distant screams echoes through the halls.

“Spooky,” Franco says, looking around with an approving nod. “Nice setup. You pick this place yourself?”

“Of course,” I reply, glancing around. “Only the best for you.”

He grins, nudging me lightly with his elbow. “So much effort. I knew I am your favorite.”

I shoot him a mock glare, even though my heart skips a little at the comment. “You wish, Colapinto.”

“Oh, I don’t need to wish,” he quips back, his tone teasing. “I can tell.”

I shake my head, trying to focus on the interview. “Okay, back to business. What’s your biggest weakness—on the track or in a haunted house?”

Franco laughs, the sound echoing in the dimly lit hallway. “Weakness? You’re really trying to get something out of me, aren’t you?”

“It’s my job,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, give me something.”

He shrugs, playing along. “Alright, fine. My biggest weakness? Probably pizza. Or maybe rom-coms.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised but laughing. “I didn’t take you for the romantic type.”

“Hey, there’s more to me than racing and being good looking,” he says, his grin widening. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Clearly,” I mutter, trying to keep my cool as we walk further into the haunted house. It’s starting to get darker, the lights dimming as the creepy sound effects grow louder. I was starting to question why I chose a haunted house as the perfect location.

We pass through a corridor with skeletons lining the walls, and Franco glances over at me, his eyes gleaming. “You scared yet?”

“Not a chance,” I say, though my heart is starting to race just a little. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“Good to know,” he replies, his voice low and teasing. “Just in case, I’m here to protect you, you know.”

I shoot him a sidelong glance, but before I can reply, something rustles in the darkness ahead. I jump a little, and Franco notices, of course.

“Whoa, did you just flinch?” he teases, stepping closer. “I thought you said you weren’t scared.”

“It’s nothing, just my foot itched a little,” I say quickly, brushing it off. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Sure, sure,” he says, his grin not faltering. “Don’t worry, I’ll be your bodyguard tonight.”

We keep walking, the camera crew following close behind, but it’s getting harder to focus on the interview with all the random noises and the way Franco keeps inching closer every time something creaks.

“So,” I say, trying to regain control of the situation, “what’s the scariest thing you’ve ever faced in your racing career?”

Franco tilts his head, pretending to think for a moment. “Probably that one time I missed a pit stop and ended up in the wrong garage. I swear, the mechanics looked ready to chase me down.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “That’s not scary. That’s just embarrassing.”

“Hey, for a second, I thought I was about to get a wheel thrown at my head,” he jokes. “That’s plenty scary.”

Suddenly, there’s a loud bang from somewhere behind us, and I instinctively grab Franco’s arm. He chuckles, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“You sure you’re not scared?” he asks, his voice soft but teasing. “Because it kinda seems like you are.”

I shoot him a look, trying to play it cool even though my heart is pounding. “I’m just making sure you’re not the one freaking out.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly unconvinced. “You’re a terrible liar, by the way.”

We turn another corner, and I realize the camera crew is no longer with us. I glance around, confused. “Wait… where did they go?”

Franco looks back over his shoulder, frowning. “They were just here. Maybe we lost them in one of the turns.”

“Well, that’s great,” I mutter, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “What do we do now?”

Franco shrugs, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “Guess we’ll just have to find them. You okay with being alone with me in a haunted house?”

I snort, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in my stomach. “Please, Colapinto. You’re not nearly as scary as you think you are.”

He steps closer, his grin widening. “Oh, I can make you pretty nervous I think.”

Before I can respond, there’s another loud crash, and something jumps out from the shadows. I scream before I can stop myself, my hand flying to Franco’s arm. He pulls me in closer, his other hand protectively resting on my waist as we both stare at the fake ghost that had startled me.

“Whoa, okay,” Franco says, his voice full of amusement. “I didn’t realize I had to start saving you this early.”

I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I try to laugh it off. “I wasn’t scared,” I insist, even though I’m still gripping his arm. “It was just—unexpected.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly not buying it. “If you wanted to end up in my arms, you could’ve just asked.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t let go of his arm. “You wish, Colapinto.”

He chuckles softly, his hand still resting on my waist as we stand there for a moment. “Hey, no complaints here. I’m enjoying this hero role.”

We walk a bit further, Franco staying close, and the tension between us feels slightly different from its usual playfulness. Something a bit more loaded.

“Alright,” I say, trying to keep things professional even though I can feel my heart racing. “Let’s find that camera crew before they think we’ve disappeared.”

Franco grins, clearly in no rush. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll turn up. But hey, at least this gives us some alone time.”

I glance up at him, raising an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you plan to do with this alone time?”

He smirks, leaning in slightly. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

We’ve been walking through this maze of dark hallways and creaking floors for what feels like ages. The air between Franco and me is thick with the usual playful teasing, but there’s something warmer underneath tonight. Something I’m not entirely sure either of us expected.

“So,” Franco says as we reach another eerie corner of the haunted house, “left or right, fearless leader?”

I glance between the two paths, both equally dark and ominous. “Left,” I say with a shrug, though my focus is more on the way Franco’s hand keeps brushing against mine as we stand there.

Without a word, he slips his fingers through mine, giving my hand a light squeeze as we take the left path. The gesture catches me off guard for a second, but it feels natural. Warm.

“You good?” Franco’s voice is soft, his teasing tone still there, but his concern is genuine.

I nod, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, I’m just… trying not to trip over a fake skeleton or something.”

He chuckles, and I feel his thumb lightly brush against the back of my hand, his touch gentle. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I say, feeling a little braver now with him beside me.

We keep moving, our footsteps the only sound echoing through the narrow hallway. The haunted house is definitely doing its job—the creepy sound effects, the flickering lights, and the occasional distant scream have me on edge. But with Franco holding my hand, it’s easier to focus on him rather than the eeriness around us.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoes behind us, and I jump, gripping his hand tighter. Franco, always quick with a joke, leans in slightly.

“You know,” he says, his voice low, “if you’re looking for an excuse to stay close, you don’t really need one.”

I raise an eyebrow, trying to hide the way my heart skips. “Oh? Is that your best line?”

He grins, tugging me a little closer. “No, but it’s working, isn’t it?”

I glance up at him, half-amused, half-speechless at his boldness. “You’ve got no shame, do you?”

“None,” he replies, completely unfazed. “I figured you would’ve noticed that by now.”

We round another corner, and the sound of scraping metal rings out from ahead, louder this time. It’s getting harder to keep my cool, and Franco knows it. His hand tightens around mine, and before I can stop myself, I move closer to him again.

“You’re not as fearless as you like to pretend, huh?” Franco teases, though his voice has softened slightly, the flirty edge still there but mixed with something gentler.

“I’m perfectly fine,” I shoot back, trying to sound convincing, even though my heart’s racing a little too fast.

“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly unconvinced. “You’re doing great.”

We walk a few more steps, and then another noise—a low, guttural growl—sounds from behind. I instinctively pull myself closer to Franco, and this time, he doesn’t hold back. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me securely against him.

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, amusement lacing his voice, “I get it. You need me.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” I mutter, though I make no move to step away from him.

Franco grins down at me, his green eyes gleaming. “Too late.”

We walk like that for a bit, Franco’s arm around me, the haunted house feeling a little less overwhelming now that we’re practically glued together. His fingers brush against my side, just enough to send sparks up my spine.

“You know,” Franco says after a moment, his voice lighter, “you’re cute when you’re scared.”

I snort, shaking my head. “I’m not scared. I’m… strategically cautious.”

“Is that what you call it?” He raises an eyebrow, the teasing back in full force. “Because it looks like you’re holding on pretty tight.”

I glance down, realizing that I am, in fact, gripping his arm for dear life. “Shut up.”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and low, and I can feel his gaze on me as we continue walking. The haunted house seems quieter now, the eerie sounds fading into the background.

Then, out of nowhere, we turn another corner, and there’s the camera crew. Setting up for the next shot like nothing happened, completely unaware that we’d been wandering around alone for what felt like forever.

“Well,” Franco says, not letting go of my hand just yet, “looks like we’ve been found.”

I laugh, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Good. Now we can finish this interview properly.”

But Franco doesn’t move. Instead, he steps a little closer, his hand still holding mine, his gaze steady and a little more serious than usual. “You know,” he says softly, “I wouldn’t have minded if we got lost for a little longer.”

I meet his gaze, my heart doing that stupid fluttering thing again. “Oh, really?”

He grins, that familiar playful spark returning to his eyes. “Yeah. I was starting to like having you all to myself.”

I’m about to respond with something witty, but before I can, Franco leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. It’s quick, gentle, but it sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the haunted house or Halloween.

He pulls back, grinning down at me, clearly pleased with himself. “You good now?”

I nod, feeling my cheeks heat up as I try to regain some semblance of composure. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Franco squeezes my hand one last time before letting go, stepping back just as the camera crew calls us over. But as we walk toward them, I can’t help but let out a deep breath that I didn’t know I was holding. Butterflies having a rave in my stomach.

“You know,” Franco says with a grin as we rejoin the crew, “if you ever want to do another haunted house interview… I’m in.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I’m sensing some ulterior motives here, Colapinto.”

“Perhaps,” he replies with a wink, his grin wide and full of promise.

[hotshotsxyz]

doctor, doctor, give me the news

(buddie) (1.4k words) (8x05 spec) y'all i think i kind of went off with this one

Tommy flinches. It’s a quick, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it thing that he quickly turns into a playful cringe, but for a second, it was real. It was real and Buck saw it and he doesn’t know how to unsee it.

He pulls his phone out and opens the camera so he can see it for himself, and okay, yeah, it’s not great. But also—they’re both firefighters. Buck’s seen way worse than swollen, red skin, and he’s sure Tommy has too.

“Afraid of the curse now?” he asks lightly instead of voicing the thought.

“Um, yeah, I think you’ve convinced me,” Tommy replies.

Buck squints at his own image. “What do you think it is?”

“Other than a curse?” Tommy asks.

Buck nods.

“Honestly, Evan, I have no idea. Maybe we should call in some back-up.”

“What?” Buck asks, brow furrowing. “Like some kind of curse breaker?”

Tommy snorts. “Like someone with a little more medical training,” he replies.

“Oh, yeah that—that’s probably a good idea,” Buck says. He feels himself flush even redder.

“You want me to call Hen? Or Chimney, maybe?” Tommy asks.

Buck shakes his head. “They’re taking the kids to a haunted hayride today. I’ll text Eddie.”

Tommy’s nose wrinkles a little, and Buck can’t help but wonder which part of what he just said Tommy didn’t like. He types out a quick message.

SOS. curse real. need paramedic diaz asap

Eddie’s reply is almost instantaneous and comes in three short messages.

not a paramedic

and curses aren’t real

I’m on my way

Buck looks up from his phone. “He’ll be here soon,” he says.

“That was fast,” Tommy observes.

Buck shrugs. For a second he considers sending Eddie a selfie, something to prepare him for the not-so-pleasant sight of his face, but he—

He kind of wants to see if Eddie flinches, too.

Eddie’s key turns in the lock and Tommy shoots Buck an odd look. He’d try to parse it, but he’s really starting to feel how much his face hurts and he kind of just wants Eddie to hurry up and fix it. He stands and walks past the stairs in time to see him shut the door.

“Ouch,” Eddie hisses as soon as he catches sight of whatever it is his face is doing now. It’s not a flinch. If anything, he sways forward like he might at a scene. Assessing. Ready to jump in as soon as he’s formed a plan.

“Yeah,” Buck says. “Told you I’m cursed.”

Eddie lets out a light laugh. “Mm, I think I’m supposed to be the one making the diagnosis here,” he says.

He ushers Buck to the kitchen table, sets his med kit down, and pulls out a chair for him.

“Gee,” Buck says, “A guy could get used to this kind of medical care.”

Eddie grins. “Doctor Diaz, at your service,” he says, holding out a hand for Buck to shake.

Buck huffs a soft laugh and takes it. “I’ll be a good patient, I promise,” he says.

“Don’t start lying to me now,” Eddie replies, eyes twinkling.

Across the table, Tommy chokes.

Buck drops Eddie’s hand and looks over at him. “You okay?” he asks.

“Mm,” Tommy hums. “Just uh—got some spit down the wrong pipe.”

Buck frowns but doesn’t push it any further. He looks back at Eddie and finds him rummaging through his kit with a pen light between his teeth. He makes a triumphant noise and turns to Buck.

“Alright, let’s see,” Eddie says softly.

He steps into the space between Buck’s legs, and Buck’s brain kind of just—freezes.

“Look up for me?” Eddie prompts, and when Buck doesn’t—can’t—immediately comply, Eddie presses two fingers beneath his chin and guides it up until suddenly the only thing Buck can see are Eddie’s eyes. “Thought you we’re going to be a good patient,” Eddie murmurs.

All at once, Buck’s brain unfreezes, skipping right past calm and into hyperdrive. Because—because—he’s looking at Eddie and Eddie’s thumb is skating across the skin that’s just beneath the worst of the swelling  and Buck can feel it and surely Eddie’s touched his face before except—except—no, Buck’s pretty sure he hasn’t but now that he has Buck’s never going to be able to forget the way it feels because he knows it should hurt, it should, but it doesn’t and he kind of never wants Eddie to stop touching him and that’s—that’s—

“—hurt?” Eddie asks, only Buck misses 90% of the question so instead of answering he hums vaguely and watches Eddie’s face twist in sympathy.

Eddie starts dabbing something on Buck’s face, hydrocortisone maybe, or triple anti-biotic—whatever it is it feels cool and nice and as Eddie concentrates on his task he bites down on his lip and suddenly Buck can’t look at anything else, can’t look at the furrow in Eddie’s brow can’t look at the ceiling can’t—

“You think he’ll live?” Tommy asks dryly.

Buck feels like he’s been doused with cold water.

Eddie’s lips, those lips that he still can’t bring himself to look away from, twitch into a small smile. “Depends,” he says. “Has anyone figured out how to break the curse?”

It punches a laugh out of Buck’s chest, the kind that comes out in a single syllable and with a rush of air. Eddie takes a step back and finally Buck feels like his brain is returning from the stratosphere, back to its baseline level of chaos.

“So—” Buck tries, but it comes out rough. He clears his throat. “What’s uh—what’s the diagnosis.”

Eddie frowns. “Honestly? It kind of looks like spider bites.”

Tommy’s chair clatters back, and when Buck looks over he’s suddenly standing.

“Babe?” Buck asks, but it feels gummy and unfamiliar in his mouth.

“I, um—not a fan of spiders,” he squeaks.

Eddie blows out a soft breath that Buck’s pretty sure only he could recognize as laughter.

“You don’t have to stick around,” Buck says, and he swears he means stick around the loft, but—but—“I’m okay, I’ve got the second best doctor in Los Angeles looking after me.”

“Second!” Eddie exclaims, mock affronted.

“Hen,” Buck replies with a shrug.

Eddie heaves a dramatic sigh. “You’re not wrong.”

Tommy looks between them, a deep furrow in his brow. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll uh—I’ll head out.” He backs toward the door, then pauses as he gets a hand on the knob. “See you tomorrow?” he directs at Buck.

“’Course,” Buck replies, and he’s pretty sure if Tommy had asked him that this morning his reply would’ve sounded soft and sweet to his own ear, but now Buck doesn’t hear much of anything at all.

Tommy nods once, and then he’s gone.

Buck looks back at Eddie, and god, he tries. He tries so hard not to notice the long line of Eddie’s legs where he’s leaning against the table, not quite sitting on it. He tries not to think about that soft curl, the one that makes an appearance more often than not these days, the one that rests against his forehead. He wants—he doesn’t—Eddie’s not—

Buck stands abruptly, except Eddie never did take more than a step back and now they’re practically nose to nose and Buck isn’t sure if he’s still breathing. Eddie’s head tips to the side and Buck—there’s not a thing he can do to stop the freight train that is his imagination, and oh, he can see it. He can feel it.

All at once he’s sure that if Eddie Diaz were to lean in and kiss him—right now, or a year from now, or a decade—if Eddie kissed him, Buck would be ruined in every sense of the word. He’d never be able to kiss another person without seeing Eddie, feeling Eddie, tasting Eddie and—

He wouldn’t want to.

Buck takes a stumbling step back and knocks into his chair, making it clatter the same way Tommy’s had. And fuck, for a second he didn’t even—

“Buck?” Eddie asks, all concern and kindness and wide brown eyes.

“Fine!” Buck says. “I’m fine. You—you, uh—do you want—” Me? Us? Something terrifying and perfect and permanent and “—water?”

Eddie’s brows knit together. “Sure,” he says. “But sit back down. Let me get it.”

“Okay,” Buck breathes. He sinks into his chair.

Eddie grabs two glasses out of his cabinet without even pausing to think and fills them with the Brita he already knew was in Buck’s fridge and snags a coaster that he bought before placing one of the glasses in front of Buck.

“Seriously,” he says, settling into the chair closest to him and leaning forward, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, and he’s honest to god not even sure if he’s lying.

[moonjxsung]

Kinktober Day 20: Escape Room

[kinktober masterlist.]

🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.

pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x reader

•

“It says we have to a key,” you explain to Hyunjin, thumbing over the painted wooden sign in the dimly-lit room.

“How many rooms are left?” He asks, leaning carelessly against the wall, hands stuffed in his pockets as he glances around at every corner of the room.

“This is the last one.”

Hyunjin exhales sharply, a slight groan escaping his lips as he rests his head against the wall now. He doesn’t seem very intent on helping you- let alone maintaining a positive attitude about being stuck in this escape room with you.

“What’s going on?” You ask him, meeting his distracted gaze. “You’ve been impatient since we got here. Do you want to call and exit?”

You reach for the red telephone beside him, and Hyunjin sprawls his fingers out over yours, gesturing for you to keep the receiver in its place.

“It’s not that,” he responds. The corners of his lips pull into a slight smile, and you furrow your brows in confusion, as he groans again.

“You know they don’t have cameras in here?” Hyunjin inquires, cocking his head toward the ceiling. “I noticed it back in the first room.”

“I know,” you say to him. “That’s why the only instructions they can give are over the phone. It’s part of the mystery.”

Hyunjin takes a single step toward you, hands still in his pockets, as he towers over you to meet your gaze.

“Meaning no one could watch if we got busy in here.”

You slap his arm playfully, chuckling in response, but Hyunjin doesn’t provide any sign that he’s joking about the suggestion.

“Are you serious?” You say to him, swallowing nervously. “Hyunjin, that’s way too risky. If they saw, we’d be kicked out and banned from here, and they’d probably call-”

“Who would see?” He queries, pulling his hands out of his pockets to tilt your chin up. “No one. There’s no cameras, we get 30 minutes max in here. I only need half of that.”

It’s his words that are convincing, his voice sounding deeper than usual, as he pulls you in for a kiss, hands snaking down the small of your back to pull you closer to him.

He smirks as he kisses you, perhaps knowing it doesn’t take much to win you over, yet you still pull away momentarily, glancing back at the heavy door across the room.

“We still need to find the key.”

“I’m good at this stuff,” he assures you, spinning you around to press you against the concrete walls. “Just cum for me, and then we can look for the key.”

Hyunjin’s face buries in the crook of your neck, as he trails along your jawline with sloppy kisses, one hand balling your skirt in the fist of his hand, as the other begins to undo his belt buckle. You can’t help but moan softly at the sound of his belt clinking in the empty room around you, already dripping at the knowledge of how risky this is. His belt hangs open loosely as he lowers his jeans down his thighs, and then his vacant hand attaches itself to the waistband of your panties.

You expect him to undress you as promptly as he’s done himself, yet his slender fingers find your cunt instead, rubbing vigorously over your pulsing clit and pressing the cotton of your underwear firmly against you. The sounds you let out are much louder than you intend them to be, the whole room filling with sounds of your erotic gasps, as he moves back and forth along your clothed folds, pressing his middle finger to your clit and applying even more pressure.

You begin to ask him to just fuck you already, yet Hyunjin is well aware of the passing minutes, swift to tug your panties down and pull your skirt up a little higher. The cold air grazes your wetness, and Hyunjin reattaches his fingers to your clit, moving in a much slower fashion, as his spare hand wraps around the base of his cock. He pumps himself a few times, throwing his head back at the sensation of finally being touched, and then he slots himself between your inner thighs, pushing into you slowly, as his fingers move from your clit to intertwine with yours.

His pace starts off slowly, not wanting to finish too quickly- and for a moment he’s scared that he might, well aware that he’s been fully erect for almost the entirety of this escape room. But he picks up his speed quickly, beginning to thrust into you much faster now, your fingers grasping him tightly as you struggle to keep your balance. Hyunjin’s grunts echo in your ears as he leans in to kiss you, just barely meeting your lips, a string of saliva still connecting his flesh to yours when he pulls away. He glances down with lips parted, eyebrows arched in pleasure at the sight of his cock disappearing into you, and then he lets out a whiny plea when he feels you clench around him.

“Not yet,” Hyunjin commands breathlessly. “We still have time.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you whine, gasping for air when he resumes at a much slower pace. “I can’t hold it.”

“Wait,” Hyunjin commands again. He reaches down to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his lips finding the shell of your ear again as he resumes his thrusts. And then he stops entirely, glancing around the rest of the room.

“Why’d you stop?” You quickly ask, glancing over your shoulder at him. Beads of sweat trickle down his chiseled jawline, and he wears a preoccupied expression on his face.

Hyunjin doesn’t answer, instead meeting the gaze of the concrete wall in front of your still-standing figures. And then he reaches for the red telephone on the wall, dialing a single digit and holding it up to his ear.

“What are you doing?” You ask in a panicked, yet hushed tone, as you hear someone pick up on the other end.

“Room 3?” A voice on the other end says, and Hyunjin begins to move once more, slowly, as you stifle your gasps.

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly. “We need a hint.”

It’s unclear whether he actually needs a hint, or if he’s just doing this to bother you, as he listens for instruction on the other end of the line. But he continues his movements, thrusting his cock in and out of you in painfully slow movements, as you let soft moans emit from your parted lips.

Hyunjin nods as he’s granted a hint, all the while bringing his spare hand around to cup your mouth, pressing his palm against your lips in efforts to stifle your crescendo moans. You can feel a string of drool trail down your bottom lip and onto his palm, as he utters thanks to the man on the phone. And then he finally hangs up, releasing his hold on your mouth and quickening his thrusts again.

“Can’t stay quiet, huh?” He muses, his lips pulling into a grin as he grunts in your ear.

“Cum for me,” Hyunjin finally commands, and you can feel your knees buckle at his words. “Such a good girl, letting me fuck you in the escape room where they might find us. Cum for me, and I’ll tell you where the key is.”

A series of pornographic moans escape your lips when you finally do finish for him, his fingers intertwining with yours as he reaches his release at the same time, filling you with his load as he lets his hand trail down your spine to smooth down your skirt again.

When he pulls back, you can hear him pull up his boxers as you do your panties, and the clink of his belt buckle can be heard when he concludes dressing himself once more.

Hyunjin spins you around to face him again, the same devilish grin plastered on his face as he leans down to kiss you, and then he glances over his shoulder at the heavy door to the exit.

“It should be right here,” he states, reaching up to feel around the top of the doorframe. His slender fingers make contact with a little metal key, just as the hint implied, and you watch him bring it to the lock at the same time he glances down at his silver watch.

“We made it with two minutes to spare,” he says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

“Yeah, and we had to use a hint, otherwise we wouldn’t have made it,” you reply, chuckling softly.

Hyunjin cocks his head as he twists the key in the lock, and then he winks at you, before pushing the door open.

“You’re right,” he remarks simply. “Guess we’ll have to try it again sometime.”

*

[jji-lee]

as he sat on your pink fluffy couch, haechan wondered how the hell he got himself in this situation. he fidgeted in his seat, silence eating him alive. he looked up quickly, catching a glimpse of you before immediately ducking his head back down.

if he had known he'd been called over to get stared down by five very attractive individuals, he probably would've ignored the job offer and forced himself to live with the burden of poverty. you five had been looking over at him and whispering to one another for the past ten minutes, leaving him sat there, tense and sweaty.

.

he had been greeted at the door by the short pretty boy, huang renjun, kinda mean but nice enough to appear welcoming. and then he was guided into your bedroom by a taller bulkier male, lee jeno, kind smile but kinda intimidating. as he waited for "the boss" to be out of the bathroom (that's what everyone had been calling you), he was questioned by another pretty boy, na jaemin. he asked him about photography which helped ease his nerves.

"donghyuck, you're like a camera god, don't look so nervous, there's no one better for this job than you!"

he wish he knew what the job actually was, but he'd just have to wait for "the boss" to be ready. he also wishes that you'd hurry up because during the wait, a female had appeared. she was dressed in all black, outfit simple yet very fashionable, aeri uchinaga or giselle which she preferred to be called. hyuck avoided eye contact with her as best as he could, only mumbling a little hi, eyes focused on the super interesting piece of lint on his pants.

.

when you had finally come in hyuck made the mistake of looking up, swallowing thick as he stared you down. you were gorgeous wow, well you were all gorgeous, but you, you were something out of his wet dreams. your cute little outfit snug tight against your body, wait was that appropriate for a job interview?

"taaa-daaa!"

you spun around on your heels, hands on your hips as you posed for everyone to see. hyuck's mouth went dry as he watched you.

"stop putting on a show you're scaring the poor kid, hurry up so we can do the interview."

jaemin rushed you onto the bed facing hyuck. you leaned forward from your seat reaching your hand out to greet haechan.

"hey hyuck-"

he blushed at the nickname.

"nice to meet you, i'm y/n, the one actually hiring you."

he shook your hand quickly, pulling his own back like he had just been burned.

"nice to meet you too, y/n."

he avoided eye contact eyes drifting towards your cleavage as you bent in front of him. haechan shut his eyes bringing his hands onto his lap to hide his arousal, are you a fucking teenager get a grip! you giggled sitting back down on the bed as your other four friends joined you, and that's how it began.

.

haechan feels like he's been sitting there for hours listening to you all whisper, occasional pushes and shoves being exchanged between the five of you. renjun was the first to speak, clearing his throat before starting,

"i'm gonna be blunt with you lee donghyuck. y/n is a cam girl and we want you to record her streams for her-"

"and occasionally take her sexy twitter posts!"

"yes... like giselle said, and take pictures of her. she's going to be nude almost all of the time, or as close to naked as she can get. can you handle that?"

hyuck thinks maybe god hates him, or maybe he really loves him because what the actual hell is going on. he stared at the five of you eyes wide, processing what renjun had just said.

"look now you've scared him!"

jaemin slapped renjun's thigh, an apologetic smile on his face.

"i wish i could make this better for you donghyuck, but i don't think there's any way to sugar coat this."

haechan bit his lip, looking towards you.

.

you knew from the moment you had walked in that donghyuck had zero experience with women. the way he avoided eye contact and the way he stole glances at your breasts and bare legs. so the shock on his face at the job description was more than expected, what you didn't expect to feel so bad for him. he looked like a deer caught in headlights, ready to run away at the slightest threat.

"everyone out."

your friends looked at you confused as you pointed to the door.

"you heard me everyone out. now- no not you hyuck sit down."

you watched as he nervously sat back down, ready to leave at your command. your friends exchanged glances as they exited the room, unsure of what you were planning on doing.

.

haechan could feel the heat rise in his body as you shut the door behind them. why on earth did you want to be alone with him?

he tried to calm his breathing as he watched you kneel in front of him, placing your hands on his thighs, dick twitching at the touch, for the love of god lee donghyuck relax.

"hey, hyuck look at me, please?"

he sighed before raising his gaze to meet your eyes, a gentle smile on your lips.

"i know this sounds crazy, and i know i should have told you what the job was before you came."

he nodded in agreement, a giggle leaving you lips,

"so, lee donghyuck, right now i am y/n y/l/n the college student, but when i do my job i am craftykitty the camgirl."

wait- you were who? craftykitty? the camgirl that kept him up for countless nights, moaning into his pillows so his roommates wouldn't hear him? the camgirl that he spends hundreds of dollars on? his dream camgirl that is kneeled in front of his hands on his thighs? he stared at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape.

"i've seen your work and i know you're capable of doing the job right hyuck, but it's up to you okay? i've been doing this cam stuff for a while but this is my first time actually telling someone who i am, so please if you don't want the job can you at least keep my identity a secret?"

.

you let out a nervous laugh, forgetting that donghyuck hadn't signed the NDA yet. what are you even rambling about telling a complete stranger your identity and you don't even know if he'll take the job-

"i'll do it."

now it was your turn to looked shocked. his cheeks were flushed and his nervousness was clear in the way he picked at the fur on your couch.

"i'll do it, just, i just need some time to adjust, i want my focus to be 100% through the lens, i'll be okay as long as i look at you through the camera."

you pushed yourself off the floor, a wide smile on your lips,

"perfect! we can do whatever you want hyuck! you can have that damn camera stuck to your eyes if you want!"

you sprinted towards the door hitting it harshly, yelps coming from the other side of it.

"i know you guys were listening! he said he'll do it! get the paperwork!"

you turned back to him quickly,

"how about we do some practice shots so you can get warmed up, hm?"

truthfully haechan wanted to say no, he wanted nothing more than to run back to his dorm and shove his hand down his pants, your face still clear in his mind. but as he looked up at your bright smile he fears that he might agree to anything you say, all you had to do was ask.

⋆₊˚⊹.𖥔 zoom, click, panic ! -> 3. chat spam mommy

previous -> masterlist -> next

notes: literally rewrote this like 10 times i am struggling guys 😭 i wrote like 3 midterm essays today i don't have brain power. but for nerd hyuck i will make an exception, hope you guys are liking it!

taglist : @sunghoonsgfreal , @hizhu , @axo-l0tl , @strawberrysavi , @hyuckiebb-blog , @hyucktion , @4yunogf , @jakesbubu , @gacktsa , @iheartjayke , @annoyednblax , @luvvhaechan , @dudekiss3r , @nanaxwi , @yesohhsehun , @prettybluei , @soobinbunnie5 , @hyucksunset , @peterm4rker , @byeonwooseokabs , @kodasity , @hyuckmoon , @catdonut657 , @lionzyon , @luvandletter , @defzcl , @nneteyamss , @222brainrot , @1lovejinki , @zzurao , @catpjimin , @multifandomania , @docilismo , @cyjzzl , @livingdoll-hara , @this-is-lowkey-a-hyuck-fanpage , @ohwowzersthatscool , @babyjenono , @wonswondrland , @jenoleeaesthetic , @bananinhazz , @hyuckna25 , @doejaejung , @angeliqueiguess , @mymartiniblue , @aerivrs , @heyitsbreeeeee , @choizzn , @jae-n0 , @hyuckshinee

[senipsenipsenip]

Once the Pines family realizes Stan’s memory lapses are just going to be a thing after Weirdmageddon, they buy him a flip phone.

The lapses don’t happen often, only every couple of months, moreso if Stan’s been stressed, but the family wants a way Stan can reach them if he’s alone or not at home when it happens. After all, they don’t want to smother him, and Stan doesn’t want the kids to feel like they have to be his caretaker when they should be enjoying their summers.

The wallpaper is a family picture, Stan, Ford, and the kids. The pinned contact is CALL THIS NUMBER ASAP. It goes to Ford’s phone. It used to say Ford’s name as well, but they realized quickly that if Stan thought Ford was in the portal he wouldn’t bother calling. It used to say CALL FOR HELP, but had to be changed after a lapse where Stan thought he was back in Columbia, and really didn’t want to risk it in case it was a police number. Stan suggested the ASAP. That way if he thought he was still on the streets, he’d probably assume he left that note himself because it was a “business partner” that he better contact before they “contacted” him. Ford was still haunted by the day he answered the phone and, before he could state his name, heard Stanley babbling excuses and promises about money and cargo and look you can’t off me yet please just another week

He was also a little haunted by whatever it meant when Stan called and, with more venom than he’d ever heard in his brother’s voice before, said “You’re the llama guy, aren’t you?”

But usually when Ford answers the phone, Stanley is surprised it’s him. Sometimes he’s angry, sometimes he’s frantic, but Stan always listens when Ford asks him to stay where he is and wait for him to pick him up. Ford always feels a mix of emotions, realizing how hurt Stanley had been in the past yet how he would always want to see Ford again. How often he would arrive at the diner or the grocery store or, on a bad day, the lake where Stan sat confused and lost in his old fishing boat, and give his brother the greeting he should have when he came out of the portal, when Stan arrived on his doorstep thirty years ago. He wraps his arms around his brother and says it’s okay. I’m glad you called. You did the right thing. I’m here.

And together they find their way back home.

[snowballseal]

Them as supernatural creatures (LaDS)

Summary: This is my take on what supernatural creature each guy would be. They're pretty long, and either a fic where reader discovers what they are or a domestic moment they share together.

Rafayel - kitsune

Zayne - vampire

Xavier - guardian angel

Sylus - demon

Word Count: all roughly 1500 words

Note: These honestly came out soooo much longer than I expected. I might add a fic for Caleb, cause honestly, I'm really warming up to him. What supernatural creature should he be?

I'll probably come back and edit later, so let me know if you catch any mistakes!

---

Rafayel / Kitsune

“Rafayel…” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“What?! They deserved it,” Rafayel defends himself as he flops down onto the couch. 

“That doesn’t mean you can screw with people whenever you want,” you chastise softly and sit next to him, “You’re supposed to keep your identity a secret.”

Rafayel gives you a pout. Letting out a dramatic huff, he falls over into your lap, stretching out lazily instead of giving you any kind of response. You bite back a laugh, his weight pressing you into the couch, effectively trapping you as he makes himself comfortable. It takes everything in you to not give in to his usual cute tactics, the concern gripping your chest not quite letting go.

“Seriously, Raffie, it could be dangerous,” you continue, worry seeping into your voice.

“It’s fiiine,” he sighs, ocean eyes glinting up at you with amusement, “You worry too much, cutie. You wouldn’t even know if I hadn’t told you.”

“Still-”

“Nope, no more worrying,” he cuts you off quickly, reaching up to pinch both your cheek with a teasing, cheshire grin, “Miss Bodyguard is off duty now. This spirit wants his girlfriend to cuddle with him.”

Swatting at his hands, you can feel a blush creeping up your neck. Sometimes it still surprises you how care-free he is, like nothing could ever touch him. Which maybe he’s right. And you know he’s never going to stop his antics. Still, you worry. It’s a part of your nature, wanting to protect people, especially the ones you love, especially him.

But Rafayel is persistent, coaxing you to relax with playful touches and banter. He knows exactly how to unwind you, and how to rile you up, every button, every nerve. You feel almost powerless to resist, to hold onto your lingering doubts. And it’s not even his powers, it’s just Rafayel, your Rafayel.

And of course you give in. With a weak sigh, you settle into the couch, your fingers finding their way into his curls to calm what’s left of your frazzled nerves. Rafayel hums, low and content, his eyes flickering shut as he arches up into your touch like a cat.

“Do you want to stop hiding your ears?” You ask quietly, something warm and tender winding through your ribs.

Rafayel lets out another low rumble, eyes opening a fraction to look up at you suspiciously, “You know, sometimes I wonder if you like my ears more than you like me. That wouldn’t be true, now would it, cutie?”

“Of course not,” you tease, ruffling his hair, “I just want you to be comfortable.”

“Mhm, sure.” A small smirk pulls at the corner of his lips, because of course he knows that you do truly love him for him, but the fox does love his games.

It’s almost unnoticeable, the way he dismisses his transformation magic. Every time you can’t help but watch, fully enraptured by the change. A pair of soft ears flicker up from his hair, as if they were simply hiding in his curls the whole time. And his tails. You blink, and suddenly they appear, fluffy and plush, the same color as his hair. They curl around you, as if seeking out your warmth, the same way Rafayel turns to nuzzle into your stomach. The spirit gives a happy rumble when you rub his ears, pressing impossibly closer.

“You have no idea how irritating it is to hide them all the time.” His voice comes out  muffled by your sweater, his ears flicking back before pressing to your fingers again. “I imagine it’s how you humans feel when you wear itchy clothes.”

“That doesn’t sound fun,” you agree, “I’m glad you don’t have to hide them around me anymore.”

“You’re the first human I’ve allowed to see my true form in a long time, ya know.”

Your heart flutters a little at that. It’s a fact you’re well aware of, and one you try to never take for granted. It had taken a long time for Rafayel to share this with you. 

Ever since you met in the park, you knew something was different about him. He was beautiful, after all. More beautiful than you thought a person could be. And there was always something about his smile, something that set you on edge but also drew you in. The mischievous glint in his eyes never wavering, the almost unnatural grace he moves with, even the way he talks, as if he remembers times long gone by.

It all clicked when he finally told you. When he showed you his true form. A fox spirit. Everything made complete sense, but also no sense at all in that moment. First, you couldn’t comprehend it. Wanderers, yes, those you could wrap your head around. Mystical fox spirits? No. No, that took a few days to really settle in.

Still, it was Rafayel. It was always Rafayel. And the moment he came to you after those few days of distance, tentative and quiet in a way you had never witnessed from the artist, you made your decision. 

A life without him wasn’t possible. Not for you. Not with how you had fallen in love with him.

“So, tell me again why you tricked those guys into thinking a bear was chasing them?” You ask, tone fond as you continue to rub the soft fur on his ears.

Rafayel huffs, rolling on his back to meet your gaze more easily. The swirling colors of his eyes gleam with that familiar mischief, his canines flashing sharply in a dangerous grin, “They were hunting for sport, so I showed them what it’s like to be hunted.”

He really is scary sometimes, you think to yourself, biting back a smile.

“I’m sure they’ll think twice about hunting in your woods again.”

“They better,” he snips, “If I catch them again I’ll send a real bear after them.”

“I’m sure the forest thinks you’re quite a good guardian, mister fox spirit,” you tease, ruffling his hair fondly.

Rafayel suddenly shifts, and in the blink of an eye he’s leaning over you, his arms braced against the couch on either side of your head. You freeze, eyes going wide as you look up at him, pulse racing in your ears. The fox spirit leans down, nose brushing yours, that same dangerous smile pulling at his lips.

“And what do you think, miss hunter?” He asks, breath warm against your lips.

A lump forms in your throat, making it hard to speak, to even breathe with him this close. And Rafayel can tell, his eyes narrowing with amusement. He lifts one hand, fingers tracing delicately along your cheek so you feel the faint edge of his claws.

“What? Fox got your tongue?” He all but taunts, leaning closer. His eyes slowly trail down to your lips, his grin widening. “I could show you what that really feels like if you want.”

…

Heat flares across your cheeks. You gape at him, shock mixing with embarrassment mixing with something you don’t want to admit to. Did he just say what you think he did?

Rafayel keeps his cool facade for only a few more seconds before he cracks, bursting into a fit of laughter. You stare at him, blinking wildly, brain slowly catching up with it all. And then you’re shoving him.

“Rafayel!” You squeak, and he only laughs harder, which in turn, makes you more flustered. “You’re such a- I can’t believe you! God, you’re insufferable.”

The artist catches your hands when you go to hit him again, his ocean eyes crinkling along the edges. Snickering softly, he leans down, pressing a kiss to your angry pout.

“Sorry, my bride,” he hums unapologetically against your lips, pressing a scattering of chaste kisses along your pink cheeks. “It felt like the best way to change the subject.”

“My lover is such a sadist,” you grumble, trying to turn away from him. It’s difficult to keep pouting when he showers you in such soft affection. “My poor heart can’t take this, you know.”

Rafayel cups your face, drawing you back to face him so he can press another kiss to your lips, this one tender and gentle and slow. And just like before, you’re powerless to resist him. Your fingers brush against his neck as you return the kiss, letting the warmth of his touch wash over you. Everything about him is so addicting, so enthralling, like you could get lost and never find your way out. It almost scares you, how much you’re willing to lose for this man.

Eventually Rafayel draws away, if only to let you catch your breath, still teasing you, “Now do you forgive me, cutie?”

“Hmm, I guess so,” you sigh, pretending to be appeased. Your fingers trail innocently up into his hair, until you’re close enough to give his fluffy ear a playful pinch. Rafayel squawks and pulls away, giving you the most dramatic look of betrayal. Grinning, you lean up and press a chaste kiss to his cheek, “Okay, now I definitely do.”

Rafayel whines, reaching up to rub his ear, “Who’s the sadist now?”

“Watch it, or I might just pull your tail.”

“Okay, okay, we’re even…Now can we cuddle?”

---

Zayne / Vampire

You’ve known Zayne practically your whole life. Well, all of your life that you can remember, at least. He’s always been something constant, if not distant at times. And while you never assumed you knew everything about the doctor, you thought you knew more than most.

That is, until you wander into his office one day to find him passed out on the floor.

“Zayne?” You freeze in the doorway to his office, eyes blowing wide. 

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t show a single sign of life. Fear sinks deep into your bones, wraps around your lungs like a noose. And then your legs are moving. Your shoes desperately try to grip the tile as you dash across the room, panic dulling the throb in your knees as you drop to the ground beside him.

Pulse. You need to check his pulse. And his breathing.

Hands shaking, you press your fingers below his jaw, only to inhale sharply at the shock of how cold his skin is. Like ice. Too cold. No one should be this cold. And you can’t find a pulse. You skim your fingers down his neck, looking, looking, but still nothing. 

Leaning over the still doctor, you press your ear to his chest and wait. Your lungs start to ache from how you desperately hold your breath, but it’s nothing compared to the terror gripping your heart. Because you hear nothing. Nothing at all.

You draw back, lips parting, ready to call out for someone, anyone.

Until a hand clamps firmly over your mouth.

A surprised scream escapes you, muffled by cold fingers, as you find yourself flipped, a hand holding the back of your head to prevent it from hitting the ground. Chest heaving, you draw a fist back, ready to fight back against your attacker, only to freeze when your eyes meet a pair of hazel ones.

Zayne.

Relief washes over you. Quickly followed by confusion. You quickly push his hand away, brow knitting together.

“What the hell, Zayne?” You bark, pushing yourself onto your elbows.

The doctor quickly backs away, resting back on his haunches. You take a moment to look him over, worry still clinging to your bones. He’s pale, somehow more pale than usual at least. Dark shadows rest under his eyes, which appear almost bleary as he gazes back at you. He looks exhausted. 

Dead, even.

“You weren’t breathing,” you whisper, getting to your knees so you can check his temperature again. “Your heart wasn’t beating. I checked. What happened? How are you awake right now?”

Zayne grimaces, flinching away from your touch, and you freeze.

A deafening silence fills the office. It’s an odd stand-off, you staring him down, confusion burning behind your gaze, while he does everything he can to avoid it. For a split second, though, you see something you’ve never seen in the doctor. Uncertainty.

“Zayne?” You call again, voice going soft, “Talk to me. Please.”

Zayne hesitates, seemingly debating in his head before he speaks, his voice a low rasp, “I apologize for scaring you. That must have been startling to walk in on.”

“I’m fine,” you dismiss, slowly making your way closer to him, “I’m more concerned about you right now. You were dead. At least, I thought you were. So what happened?”

Another beat of silence.

“I must have lost consciousness from exhaustion. I haven’t slept much the past few days,” he tries, but even to your ears, it sounds like a weak excuse.

“Zayne, your heart wasn’t beating. You-” You press a hand to his chest, perhaps to prove a point, perhaps to knock some sense into him. To do something.

Except his heart still isn’t beating.

You're paralyzed. Eyes locked on his chest. Confusion creeps over you, like tendrils of ice spreading through your chest. Sharp. Suffocating. This isn’t right. This can’t be real. It can’t.

Zayne lets out another sigh, this one resigned and tired. Like he’s finally given up. His cold fingers gently cover yours. He draws your hand away from his chest, though he never lets go of it.

“I suppose there’s no hiding it anymore,” he murmurs, voice stiff, like how he speaks when he’s working. “Come, let’s sit on the couch. I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable there.”

You don’t say a word as he helps you to your feet. You can’t. Your tongue feels like a dead weight in your mouth. And even if you could talk, you don’t know what you would say. A million questions rush through your head, so blurred that you can’t pick out a single one, except-

“What are you?”

It echoes in your head raucously as you take a tentative seat on the couch. Zayne’s lips press into a tight line, and he clears his throat.

“That depends. There are many names for my condition.” His leg bounces ever so slightly as he continues, eyes still not meeting yours. “Though I suppose the most common term is vampirism.”

Vampirism.

You blink. 

And blink and blink.

Vampire. He’s a vampire.

A vampire?

“Those aren’t real,” you immediately breathe out, mind racing.

A humorless smile pulls at the doctor’s lips, “I assure you, it is. I’ve suffered from the symptoms for as long as I can remember.”

A vampire. He’s a vampire. Your childhood best friend is a vampire.

“How did I not notice?” You all but squeak, examining him with this new information. 

Sure, he’s pale, but Zayne’s always been pale. And it’s not like he avoids the sun. Aren’t vampires supposed to be weak to the sun or something? Plus, he’s aging, isn’t he? A million new questions race through your mind.

“Wait, do you have fangs?!”

Before you can stop yourself, you’re touching his face, basically making him open his mouth. Zayne startles, brow raising at your brazenness, but he does nothing to stop you. At first, his teeth look normal, the only thing worth noting being the excellent care he’s given them. But then you notice it. His canines seem to sharpen, just a touch longer than they should be.

And that’s all the proof you need.

“You’re a vampire,” you breathe, fingers settling along his jaw.

Zayne watches you carefully, waiting for some kind of reaction. Horror. Fear. Anger. All of those would be appropriate. But you don’t show any of them. Instead, you look at him with a mixture of disbelief and…curiosity? 

Brow knitting together, Zayne reaches up to touch your wrist, just to check your pulse to make sure you haven’t gone into some sort of shock. Your pulse is steady though, if not a little accelerated.

“You’re not…frightened? Of me?” He asks slowly, confusion gleaming in the depths of his eyes.

You shake your head, a smile threatening to break out across your features, “No, Zayne, I’m not scared of you. I probably should be, but hey, I fight wanderers for a living. Do I have a lot of questions? Yes. But if you’ve really been like this since we were young, that means you’re not going to suddenly do something to me now, right?”

Your lack of concern should be worrying, but Zayne finds the tension is his shoulders slowly dripping away. Of course you would surprise him like this. You’ve always been too trusting, in his opinion, though he’s not about to correct you now.

“So, do you drink blood? I’m guessing you don’t hurt people, considering how strictly you follow your oath.” Head tilting, you give him a questioning look, eyes wide and almost innocent in their curiosity. “So where do you get it from? Blood bags? I’ve read that in a few books. Or animals? I’ve read that, too. How accurate are all those stories?”

“I could answer your questions if you slow down,” Zayne murmurs, fighting an amused smile. “I assure you, we have plenty of time.”

You flush, biting off the rest of your questions. Right. You’re not really giving him an opportunity to answer, are you? So where do you start?

“What is your first question?” The doctor prompts, thumb brushing calmly over your pulse.

“Hmm. The blood question. Do you have to drink it?”

“Yes,” he answers, though his voice rings with distaste, “I have to consume some form of blood every few months to keep my senses about me. I’ve perhaps waited too long this time.”

“Do you need some right now?” You press, brow furrowing.

Zayne hesitates. His lips pinch together again, a sign you recognize.

“No.”

“Liar. That’s why you passed out,” you accuse, though you keep your voice somewhat gentle.

He says nothing for a long moment, a mixture of guilt and discomfort crossing his features. Sighing softly, you give his cheek a light pinch.

“Zaaayne.”

“I’ve tolerated longer periods than this between feedings,” he murmurs, trying to sound dismissive, though you can hear the exhaustion creeping back into his voice, “My body must simply be enduring higher levels of stress due to the season. As long as I rest more, I’ll be fine until my next supply arrives.”

“Oooor,” you hum, hesitating only a moment before you offer, “You can draw some of my blood. Just enough to get you through till then. We know it’s clean since you always run so many tests on it, so that shouldn’t be a concern right?”

Zayne blinks in surprise. Even if you were taking this all well, he certainly wasn’t expecting you to make such an offer. But you meet his gaze, unwavering, expectant, mind already made up.

If his heart were beating, he’s sure it would stutter.

While he hates his condition, hates what he has to do to appease it, he can’t deny that the smell of your blood has always been tempting to him. Cloyingly sweet, like the sweetest dessert. 

He should say no. He should just endure, as he always has. 

But the determination in your eyes makes him waver. And Zayne is a weak man when it comes to anything related to you.

“It’s not advisable…” He starts, jaw tightening.

You perk up, not actually expecting him to consider it. It was a crazy idea after all, but you want to help. You hate the idea of him suffering by choice when you can do something about it.

 “But…?”

“But I am not completely opposed to the idea,” he concedes, almost looking ashamed.

“Good,” you chirp, a smile lighting up your face as you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Then let’s get to work, doctor.”

God, you would be the death of him.

Well, if he were fully alive, that is.

---

Xavier / Angel

“How is it that you seem to find danger wherever you go?” Xavier murmurs, voice as even as ever, yet cradling a hint of exasperation.

Biting back a smile, you keep your attention focused on his fingers. They work with a practiced precision to bandage the laceration on your arm, adept from the years of dressing your wounds. It has become a near weekly occurrence because of your work. Getting hurt is an unfortunate side effect of being a hunter.

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so reckless if I didn’t have such a sweet angel to take care of me afterwards,” you hum, tone bordering on teasing.

Xavier’s ears flush a soft pink, his wings ruffling in some kind of indignation, which only makes your smile stretch wider. He’s always so easy to fluster, and his wings give him away every time. It makes you want to tease him even more, but when you go to do exactly that, all that escapes you is a low hiss when he swipes a pad of alcohol across another of your cuts.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his thumb brushing tenderly along your knuckles.

“S’okay,” you sigh, taking a deep breath, “Just stings. I hate the shallow ones more than the actual cuts, you know?”

Xavier gives a low hum, neither agreeing or disagreeing. You’re sure he would prefer you avoid all physical injury, but that is an argument the angel lost a long time ago, not long after you first met. And what a day that was.

Xavier came into your life in a flash of light. Literally.

You remember the day with quite a bit fondness despite how horrible it was. Everything had gone wrong that day. Exams were kicking your butt, as was training for the Association. To say you were down in the dumps was an understatement, which is why you had been out in the woods, trying to enjoy a bit of silence. 

That is, of course, when a wanderer decided to appear.

You did your best to handle it, but you were still just in training at the time, and it was clear you were outmatched. Things would have taken a turn for the worse if Xavier hadn’t shown up.

All you really remember is seeing a blinding light, almost like a flashbang, and then there he was. Ethereal, face set with stone-cold focus, hair silvery white like a star, but most striking were the large wings stretching from his shoulders, impossibly white, the edge of each feather glinting like a knife. With a flourish of his sword, he clashed with the wanderer, killing it in seconds.

In that moment, you were convinced you were dead. That made a lot more sense than what you were seeing, after all - an angel. Sure, he didn’t have the halo, but what else could he be? And how could you be seeing an angel if you weren’t dead?

It took him kneeling down in front of you, eyes sharp with concern as he scanned your entire body for injuries, for you to realize you were, in fact, not dead. And that’s when the questions started.

“Who are you?”

“What are you?

“Where did you come from?”

Xavier being Xavier, he danced around each answer. And you being you, you didn’t relent until you got the answers you wanted.

Not only is he an angel, he’s a guardian angel, and you’ve become his charge. And since he revealed himself to you, he can’t go back to his realm without getting in serious trouble.

That’s how you ended up here, with an angel as your roommate. What else were you supposed to do with him? The man was like a lost puppy with wings. Sure, he can take down a wanderer like it’s nothing, but ask him to work a toaster and he’ll sit there for about an hour just staring at the thing. You couldn’t leave him to fend for himself.

And it was the best decision of your life, really. Not only has he become your best friend, but maybe something more.

“I do wish you would stop putting yourself in unnecessary danger,” Xavier rumbles suddenly, pouting a little bit as he examines your now bandaged hand.

“It’s not unnecessary,” you chime softly, slipping your hand from his to poke his cheek playfully. Satisfaction curls in your chest at the blush that spreads across his beautiful features, his pout only growing cuter. “If I don’t put myself in danger, then other people will, and then innocent people can get hurt.”

“Being so selfless could get you killed,” he sighs, rising to his feet, wings flaring behind him.

Your eyes follow him, steady and warm, head craning up to hold his gaze, “I’m perfectly capable of staying alive, Xavier. And if I’m ever in trouble, I know you’ll be there to help me.”

The angel huffs. You’re not wrong, as much as he’d like to argue. What was once just a job to him, a responsibility, is now something more, something carved deep into his soul. Every fiber of his being longs to keep you safe, even if it means breaking every rule he once followed. Even if it means he must fall some day.

Ignoring that thought, Xavier settles onto the bed next to you, letting out a heavy sigh as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. His hair brushes your neck, soft and ticklish, drawing a light giggle from you as you curl your arms around his shoulders.

“You really shouldn’t worry so much, starlight.”

“You make it incredibly difficult not to,” he grumbles, voice low and muffled, “I just want to keep you safe…”

“Hmm, such a sweet angel,” you hum and card your fingers through the feathers at the base of his wings.

Xavier holds back a shiver, his body arching into your delicate touch. His wings have always been sensitive, especially when you’re the one touching them. You don’t miss the way his blush spreads down his neck, or the way his wings instinctively curl around you, as if they can block out the rest of the world, as if to make a space just for the two of you. The smile that pulls at your lips is overwhelmingly fond, just like your touch.

You love the feeling of his feathers under your fingers. At first glance, they look almost sharp, but they’re surprisingly soft, downy and warm to the touch. Without thinking, you trail your fingers along the curve of his wing and fix any out of place feathers with the utmost of care. Xavier lets out another, shaky sigh, his eyes flickering shut.

It’s a soft moment. Everything else is muted, the only sound being that of your steady breath and his lazy, content hums. Xavier nuzzles even closer to you, his body impossibly warm, his weight too much for you to support. A giggle escapes you as you lean back onto the bed, the angel settling on top of you without an ounce of shame in his expression.

“I swear, sometimes I wonder if you’re actually a cat disguised as an angel, “ you tease, reaching up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing the corner of his lips. He leans into your palm without hesitation.

“Being a cat wouldn’t be so bad,” he murmurs, as if he’s given the idea some thought before. “I’d get to sleep all day and eat whenever I want instead of chasing a certain, reckless hunter around.”

He nips at your finger lightly, but your smile doesn’t waver.

“I think you’d get bored eventually.”

“Is that so?”

“Yah. I think you enjoy chasing me around, you just don’t want to admit it,” you chirp, tilting your head innocently, “And you’d miss me horribly, don’t you think?”

Xavier hums, turning his face to nuzzle into your palm. His lips brush your skin, a whisper of some kind of promise, making your heart flutter unevenly.

“I suppose I would…and would you miss me?” His eyes flicker back to you, narrowed, an undeniable spark of affection kindled in their blue depths.

You both know the answer.

“I’d miss you more than anything, angel.” Leaning forward, you press a kiss to his cheek. “I can’t imagine life without you.”

A hint of a smile tugs at his lips. “Then, I guess I’ll have to stay by your side.”

“You better.”

“Of course, my lady.”

---

Sylus / Demon

“What does your real form look like?”

You perch on the edge of his bed, feet kicking in the air as you watch Sylus get ready for whatever meeting he’s about to go to. Something to do with one of the other head crime bosses in the N109 Zone, you’re sure. One certainly down on their luck and looking to make a deal.

Sylus glances at you through the mirror, long fingers slowing as he fixes his cufflinks. His eyes bore into you, glinting with something violent, something vicious and bloody that should unsettle you to your core, but you don’t flinch, you don’t even blink.

Such a brave kitten, the demon thinks, amusement curling his lips.

“Curious, sweetie?”

The smile he gives you is sharp, too sharp, and your skin prickles with an instinctive kind of unease. It’s something you’ve grown used to, the way your body reacts to him. Like a lamb cornered by a wolf, everything screaming at you to run, yet you chose to stay cornered. Choose to trust the teeth pressing so gently to your throat, violence and desire so perfectly restrained to keep you safe.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you chime, head tilting ever so slightly. “I just…want to understand you better, you know?”

Sylus hums and turns his focus back to straightening his cuffs, “Is that so? Aren’t you scared of what I might look like?”

“No.” Your answer is quick, unwavering, and Sylus perks a brow.

A brave kitten indeed. He’s almost impressed. The rumors about him are none too kind, and yet here you are, seeking the truth. Without knowing what the truth means.

Giving himself one last look in the mirror, the demon turns to you. He studies you for a long moment, gaze dark, pensive, intense in a way that makes your breath hitch. His eyes darken, something predatory glinting in their cardinal depths. You look at him so innocently, as if you’re not staring down the devil himself, as if you know he’d never hurt you. It makes him want to ruin you, to see that pretty blush stain your skin all over, just to curb the morbid desire burning in his chest.

But you are right, he’d never hurt you. You’re too pure, too good. So he lets himself be soft, to the best of his ability at least.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors,” he murmurs eventually.

His shoes barely make a noise as he slowly approaches you. Each step is measured, confident, like he always is, and each step makes your heart flutter a little more. You’re all but holding your breath as Sylus comes to stand in front of you. His fingers, calloused and rough from a life of violence, graze your jaw so tenderly, drawing your face up to his.

“Are you sure you can handle it, sweetie?” He asks, voice almost taunting, though his features remain soft, unassuming.

Still unwavering in your decision, you nod, “I want to know you, Sylus. All of you.”

He holds your gaze for another long moment, as if he’s trying to read your soul. Which he very well could be, you realize. But when you look into his eyes, what you see isn’t his usual smug composure. Instead, you see a flicker in hesitation. Uncertainty. And it makes your heart ache.

Lifting a hand, you carefully cover the one Sylus holds against your cheek. You lean into the warmth of his touch, a gentle smile pulling at your lips, “You won’t scare me away, Sylus. I promise.”

So perceptive. Sylus gives a low chuckle, shaking his head, “You really aren’t like most humans, sweetheart. Most wouldn’t want to know me even in this form.”

“Well that’s their loss,” you hum, eyes crinkling up at him, “But that means I get you all to myself, so I can’t feel too bad for them.”

“My, what a selfish little kitten I have.” His thumb brushes lovingly over your cheek as his expression turns more serious. “If you want to see my true form, all you have to do is ask. Your desires are mine to fulfill, and I will do so with pleasure.”

“I want to see it, Sylus,” you repeat, “I want to see you.”

“Alright.” He draws back, that wicked smile returning, “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you, kitten.”

You watch, enraptured, as he rolls his shoulders, tendrils of dark smoke curling around his body. It envelopes him completely and the air in the room grows tense, fizzling with a static that has the hair on your arms standing on end. The lights flicker, plunging the room in darkness for a split second.

And when they come back on, you have to swallow down a gasp.

Because there he is. You’re not sure exactly what you were expecting. You had heard the rumors, the whispers about the monster that haunts the N109 Zone, but this somehow seems different from everything you’ve heard.

Smoldering eyes, sharp and cat-like now, stare you down with an apprehensive gleam. A pair of dark horns curl from his silvery hair. Veins of the same color curl around his neck and down his forearms like webs, the skin of his hands bleeding pitch black. His fingers look more like claws, glinting dangerously in the dim light of the room. Your eyes catch on the tail waving behind him, the spade-tip just as sharp. And the wings. They unfurl slightly, ink-like feathers brushing the floor.

What’s most shocking though, is his size. He stands almost a foot taller, his already imposing stature now threatening. The air shivers around his form, and you can feel that familiar, foreboding sensation creeping up your spine.

But the only thought running through your head is that he’s beautiful. Beautiful like a storm. Devastating and destructive, yet you can’t tear your eyes away. And you just want to be closer.

“Are you scared, kitten?” His voice rumbles with an almost imperceptible dissonance, a hint of concern beneath his tone.

You blink, gaze snapping back up to his, “No, of course not, Sy.”

The tension seems to fall away from his shoulders at that, but he still doesn’t dare move, like he’s still worried you might run away. So you, in a bout of confidence, push off the bed and walk right up to him. Sylus watches you carefully, expression reserved. 

“Can I?” You ask, keeping your tone soft as you brush your fingers against the back of his hand. You look up at him questioningly, and Sylus relents, allowing you to take his hand in yours. Your touch is unbearably soft and curious, trailing along the dark tendrils marking his skin. “Does any of it hurt? To change, I mean. Are you comfortable in this form?”

“I used to spend more time in this form,” he hums, tail flicking back and forth, “but to do business in the N109 Zone, one must be able to live in the shadows without being noticed. This form did not benefit me, so I took the form of a human to…blend in, one might say. Humans are more willing to make a deal when they believe they’re on equal ground.”

“That makes sense, but it didn’t answer my question.” You pout, tapping his hand. “Does it hurt to switch between the two?”

A small grin pulls at Sylus’ lips, revealing a sharp set of fangs, his eyes narrowing in amusement, “No, sweetie, it doesn’t.”

“Good.” You nod and brush your thumb over his knuckles. “Then I want you to take whatever form you’re more comfortable in when it’s just the two of you.”

Surprise flickers across his face, barely noticeable, but you catch it. Sylus covers it up quickly, his smile turning mischievous, “I didn’t expect you to be so comfortable with this. Does my kitten have a soft spot for monsters?”

“Maybe,” you hum, stretching up to curl your hands around his neck despite how much taller he is than you now. 

Sylus relents once more, leaning down so you don’t have to balance on the tips of your toes, even though he finds it quite cute. His hands rest tentatively against your waist, his fingers nearly interlinking at the small of your back. The size difference makes you bite the inside of your cheek, heat creeping up your neck.

Pushing the thought away, you lean up and press a chaste kiss to his cheek, humming happily, “You’re not a monster, though. I think you actually look quite…charming like this.”

The demon huffs out a laugh, his forehead coming to rest against yours, “Whatever you say, sweetheart. I’ll be whatever you want, as long as it makes you happy.”

“You make me happy, Sylus.”

“Well then, I suppose this arrangement will benefit us both greatly.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips, “I suppose it will.”

---

I felt most of my choices were pretty expected, but let me know if you guys think they'd be other supernatural creatures! And Happy almost Halloween!

[oldmenthusiast]

18+ content mdni

bookshop owner!joel miller x fem plus size reader

warnings: smut, age gap, tension, reader is in her 20s and joel in his 50s, semi public sex, reader wears glasses, not proofread

it takes many job interviews for joel to hire someone until he finds you. you're not the first young thing to apply for the job, not the most qualified either but joel likes how modest you are.

he also likes the way you avoid his gaze if he stares too long, or how you keep pushing your glasses every time they slide down your nose.

those aren't the only things he notices about you because he's become very observant due to his age; it definitely doesn't have to do with some strange infatuation over you, no.

when your hands firmly pull your sundress down if it's too windy, when you smack your own forehead if you mix up the order of the books before switching them again. joel notices that too but it doesn't necessarily mean anything.

“I’ve taken care of the online orders, mister miller.” you inform him as sweet as ever and joel’s crooked smile appears on instinct.

“thank you, sweetheart. you know how people my age are with those machines.”

you're kind enough to shake your head at his response.

“I think you're doing great,sir.” you tell him and it warms his cold heart to the core.

“go home, sugar. I'll close up soon.” he mutters with the same half smile and watches you go but not without wishing him a good day.

during peak season, the bookshop gets naturally busy but to the point where joel and you have to stay overtime.

he doesn't ask it of you but you insist.

“I can't let you do all that by yourself.” you mutter with a faint pout that he wants to kiss away.

“can’t pay you for overtime,sugar—”

“just let me do this for you,sir.” you cut him off and joel doesn't argue further.

that's how his following nights go. you sit together in the back of the store, tons of books and papers surrounding you as you work. you assist him with every single thing he needs and even if you lack knowledge in some parts, you learn it for him.

peak season ends, the bookshop is quiet and your shift ends but you somehow still sit at the back of the store instead of going home. joel sits across you while holding a bottle of beer in his hand.

“a girl your age should go out with friends and have fun, not rot in here with me.” joel tells you with a hint of amusement in his tone.

even if he's right, you do not agree.

“I like it here, it's peaceful..” you explain and as usual your gaze doesn't linger on his. you look away when joel doesn't and it makes the man smile.

“I like it too.” he mutters after a while and tips his head back to down the rest of his beer.

there's hidden intent behind his reply, or maybe just the feeling of wanting to say something more, but joel keeps quiet. whether you notice it or no, you don't say.

joel doesn't pride himself to be the best boss but at least he's a good enough one. that's what he tells himself when your most recent ex partner marches in his bookshop to cause a scene but joel sends him back with a bruised eye and some vulgar words.

it's probably the first time someone has stood up for you like that but it's more special because it comes from joel.

whether it's out of gratitude or suppressed emotions, joel thanks whatever high power has led him to the back of the store again with his body slumped on his chair and you straddling his lap.

“mister miller.” you moan as you sink down his cock, taking him inch by inch until you're fuller than ever.

his calloused hands wrap around your plush thighs and fondle the skin greedily, loving how it spills between his fingers. whatever you're not proud of, joel touches it like it's a treasure.

“I’m a man, not a boy.” he growls when you hesitate to move on him, afraid of crushing him beneath your weight. “fuck yourself on my cock, baby. come on.” one of his hands slaps your ass possessively and his words alone are good enough to give you the confidence that you lack.

once you start moving, it's over for him.

his thighs flex beneath your weight and his cock twitches within you as you ride him, taking him in so perfect.

“so good. my sweet girl. my favourite girl.” he whispers against your cheek and you melt while swaying your hips faster.

his hands clutch harder at your thighs as you bounce on his cock, buzzing with heat and need for more.

the sound of skin slapping, as well as the wet noises that emit with each slide of joel’s hardened cock inside your folds makes everything better. “so wet. you're coating my cock with it, sugar.” he says through gritted teeth as his fingers dig harder into the skin of your ass.

he slaps it once, then twice.

“mister miller!” you cry out when a particularly hard thrust is delivered straight into your sweet spot.

joel buries his face into your neck and grunts as your walls tighten around his cock, claiming his every inch. “so sensitive. bet your boyfriend didn't know how to fuck like this.” and he's probably right by the way your pussy drools and squeezes around him, sucking him in for more.

his lips find your neck and he marks it unapologetically, biting and sucking on whatever skin his mouth can reach.

when he pulls away and presses his back against the creaking chair he's graced by a sight better than any other.

joel watches you ride him, stares as your tits bounce before his face and your crooked glasses struggle to exist because of the force of his thrusts below you.

he definitely can't last long after that and he uses his strength to shove you on the table and tower over you. only then does he realize the pathetic state of your sundress, butchered up around your waist like it's a belt. he slides his cock inside you again and you whimper softly.

“knew you were made for me ever since you walked through that door.” joel growls while fondling your breasts with both hands, his mouth merely occupied with the tender skin on them.

your hands reach for him, gripping the back of his shirt as he fucks you. you're not used to being given things, only to give them yourself. and this much pleasure is overwhelming but it's good because it's joel giving it.

a particular shift of his hips helps him to slide deeper and the sensation causes you both to moan in unison.

“I won’t last, sweet girl.” he croaks between the space of your breasts while sucking one of your nipples into his mouth.

you can say the same as the stimulation brings you closer to the edge and your eyes can barely stay open at some point.

his hips follow a fast and intrusive pace, and every time joel’s hips collide against the back of your thighs it makes your skin jiggle. you feel embarrassed but not for long as joel drags his lips against yours.

“the prettiest girl. there's nothing better than you, sweetheart.” joel whispers and you kiss him before he does.

your mouths melt so perfectly, your noses brushing intimately, and if joel could bring you any closer he would.

“there.” you beg against his lips when the tip of his cock hits that perfect spot within you.

“here?” he asks teasingly and makes his thrusts purposely rougher. your legs shake around him and he does it again. and again. and again.

the bookshop is filled with your cries and begging. “i’m coming— I can't—” you mumble incoherently but joel gets it as he speeds it up.

you watch his hand disappear between your bodies and you don't question it until you feel that excellent brush of fingers against your clit, accompanied by his savage thrusts into your weeping pussy.

“joel.” his informal name falls off your lips so well and he has to remind himself to breath when you say it as you come around his cock with a cry.

it takes everything in him to not spill everything within you right there.

“where? where, baby?” he asks as he grounds his hips and hopes you'll get it.

“I'm on the pill.” you so graciously tell him while squeezing your thighs around his waist and joel nearly says thank you because of what a desperate bastard he is.

it only takes a few more thrusts for him to let go and come inside you, his hands abandoning your breasts to pull you down by your hips.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel every drop pour into you and fill you up. it briefly shocks you that he's still coming — he's still filling you up with his seed and groaning against you.

“there’s so much.” you mutter breathlessly as he nuzzles his face against yours. joel simply hums and uses one of his hands to caress the bare side of your hip, keeping you relaxed.

“we’re not opening tomorrow.” he tells you in his usual tone of authority.

“it’s thursday.” you tell him.

“good day to go out and eat,yeah?” joel pulls back enough to look at you and he stares at you knowingly. his words bring a smile to your lips, one that he wants to treasure forever.

you nod then, giving him your acceptance.

“yeah. it is a good day to eat out.” his hand moves from your hip to fix your crooked glasses with a fond expression. the glint in his eyes speaks louder than any sentence.

“maybe you should keep your calendar empty for this month. or year.” his words amuse you but you're aware that it's far from a joke — he isn't asking. your eyes regard him as gently as always and you smile that way just for him. “yes mister miller.”

he was glad to have hired you.

[creamflix]

character insert x female reader; 18+ content, minors and blank blogs do not interact. established relationship, modern au. dom!reader. lots of teasing. (addicted to the) weird girl pussy ! #needthat. — masterlist here ☆

people never quite understood you.

a "weird girl," they called you — quiet, withdrawn, someone who didn’t fit into their neatly packaged little worlds. but what baffled them more than your oddities was the fact that he was with you. the most sought-after man, someone who could have anyone he wanted, yet he trailed behind you like a lost puppy. the whispers, the stares, the judgment — you could feel them everywhere, gnawing at your back as you walked hand-in-hand with him, like you didn’t belong.

“what does she have on him?” “he’s probably dating her for a dare.” “god, she’s so strange, why would he be with her?”

you heard it all. and so did he. but while you brushed it off, your presence sent him spiraling into need. it wasn't what they thought — you had the upper hand here. and he knew it too well.

you caught him staring again, his eyes glued to you, his lips parted like he was about to say something, but didn’t. just the sight of you standing there, minding your own business, was enough to make him lose his composure. his reputation as the confident, cocky guy who could charm anyone disappeared the moment he was alone with you. because when it came to you, he was nothing more than a whiney, needy mess.

he tugged on your sleeve, his voice already trembling. “c-can we go? please?”

you shot him a lazy glance, raising an eyebrow as if you didn’t already know what he wanted. “go where?” you teased, feigning ignorance.

his lips pressed into a thin line, his fingers twitching as they brushed your arm, but he didn’t meet your eyes. “you know where,” he mumbled, voice low, practically choking on his own need.

you smiled, but it wasn’t the soft kind. no, it was the kind that made him squirm. he was the one with the power, the money, the looks — but when it came to you? it was like he couldn’t even think straight.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, voice soft but teasing. you took a step closer, and his breath hitched, his eyes darting to the ground as if that could hide the pink dusting his cheeks.

you heard the whispers behind you again — the mocking laughter, the mean-spirited comments. they thought you were a nobody. to them, you were the odd one out. but they didn’t see how his entire demeanor crumbled in your presence, how the proud, arrogant man they knew became this — a whining, desperate mess, practically begging for your attention.

“can’t we just go home?” his voice cracked, and you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips.

“why?” you asked, feigning innocence again. your fingers trailed up his arm, watching as he sucked in a shaky breath, his lips parting just slightly. “don’t you like these gatherings?”

his gaze finally met yours, eyes wide, pupils blown, desperation written all over his face. “it’s… i… you know i can’t focus when you’re around like this,” he muttered, his voice dropping into a whine that made you want to laugh. how could someone like him get so worked up over someone like you?

but you knew why. it was because he was pussy drunk — so drunk off you, off the way you held his attention without even trying. the neediness in his voice, the way he fidgeted under your gaze, it was all because he couldn’t control himself around you.

“is that my problem?” you asked, your voice dripping with amusement, as you leaned in closer, brushing your lips lightly against his ear. “or yours?”

he let out a shaky breath, his hand gripping your wrist like he couldn’t stand it anymore. “please… please, i need you.” his voice was barely a whisper now, just a shaky breath against your skin. the confidence he showed everyone else was gone, replaced by this vulnerable, desperate version of himself that only you ever saw. and god, you loved it.

you could hear the wet sound of his lips parting as he kissed your neck, his hands shaking as they gripped your waist, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t bear even an inch of distance between you. “can’t we just leave? i need… i can’t think straight,” he begged, his breath hot against your skin.

and you knew why. it wasn’t because he was embarrassed of you, like people assumed — no, it was because he couldn’t stop thinking about you. he couldn’t stop picturing your sweet, slick pussy, couldn’t stop imagining how you tasted, how you felt. he needed you, and he needed you now. but you weren’t going to make it easy for him. not when he was like this — so damn whiney, so desperate, so willing to give in to whatever you wanted.

“you’re such a mess,” you said softly, running your fingers through his hair as he buried his face in your neck, groaning at the contact.

he let out a soft whimper, one that made your stomach flip with satisfaction. “please,” he begged, his voice so small, so needy. “just let me —”

you could feel the way his fingers tightened around you, the way his breath became ragged as his mouth brushed your collarbone, leaving hot, wet kisses in its wake. “can’t… can’t control myself,” he mumbled between kisses, his voice strained. “you’re driving me insane.”

the sound of his desperation was music to your ears, the way his lips made those soft, wet noises as he pressed them against your skin, the little whimpers and groans escaping him as he lost himself in the moment. he was barely holding it together, practically trembling with need, and you loved watching him like this — knowing that you were the reason he was falling apart.

“what’s the matter, baby?” you cooed, running your hand through his hair again, watching as he looked up at you with those wide, pleading eyes. “can’t handle it?”

he shook his head, his breath shaky as his fingers trailed lower, grazing the waistband of your pants. “no… can’t handle it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “need you… please.”

and god, the sound of him begging was everything. they thought he was some untouchable, cocky man, but here he was, completely undone because of you. no one would believe it if they saw — the same man who commanded rooms and left people hanging on his every word was now on his knees, hands shaking, lips wet, and voice trembling, all because he couldn’t get enough of your touch.

“you’re such a good boy,” you whispered, letting him kiss your skin, loving the way his lips trailed down your stomach, leaving a hot, wet trail. his mouth hovered over your pussy, and he whimpered again, his lips parting as if he could taste you already.

and you? you’d let him have it. because you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

#needthat

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[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 23: stormy night

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

You were sitting comfortably on your sofa, watching who knows what on TV while listening to the shower blending with the storm raging outside.

Unfortunately for your boyfriend, the weather event had caused a power outage in his building, so he called you to see if he could spend the night with you. He needed to shower, iron his clothes in the morning, charge his phone, and review some work files, making it impossible to do those tasks in the dark.

They say that the misfortune of some is the fortune of others, for although your boyfriend had to step out of his comfort zone, you were extremely grateful that he was there. You hated storms; they always made you very nervous, and you usually couldn’t sleep when one was raging outside. That’s why you were happy.

Maybe it was a somewhat archaic idea; however, having your man at home made you feel extremely safe and protected.

You were covered with a gray diamond-patterned blanket, waiting for the hot chocolate in your kettle to finish boiling when you heard the sound of water in the bathroom stop. You knew that Spencer was probably too tired to want anything more than a quiet night, so when you headed toward the bathroom, you did so with no other intention.

You knocked twice, just as a matter of courtesy, and he opened the door. He was wearing a red robe with a black trim, and in his hands rested a brown towel that he was likely about to use to dry his hair.

As soon as he saw you, he asked if something was wrong, given your anxious expression. You still hadn’t dared to tell him about your fear of storms, so he couldn’t know.

“It’s nothing. I just wanted to see you,” you replied, moving closer to him to try to hug him.

“You’re going to get soaked,” he murmured. Still, he didn’t reject the contact.

“You’re so warm; how is that possible if you just showered?”

“The water. While cold temperatures have some extra health benefits, I always shower with hot water because it helps reduce tension in the muscles and relaxes me. It’s like… a moment to disconnect from everything.”

“I hope I’m not ruining it,” you murmured, looking up to meet his eyes.

The height difference between you was something that had always driven you crazy, especially the way he looked at you—with so much love.

“Not at all. You’re actually improving it.” You were about to say something else when a thunderclap resonated in the distance, making you jump into your boyfriend’s arms “Are you scared?”

“A little,” you replied tersely. You didn’t want to look silly in front of him, plus it was a rather childish fear. “The storms, the thunder, and all that… they startle me. That’s all.”

“Did you know it's called astraphobia? The irrational fear of thunder, lightning, and storms in general,” he began to ramble. “It’s a fairly common phobia that can cause intense anxiety or even panic when people experience a storm, particularly electrical ones.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“But you shouldn’t be afraid; storms are part of the natural cycle of the Earth and help balance the atmosphere, providing water for plants and refreshing the air. Although lightning may seem dangerous, it’s very rare for it to strike a person since it generally falls on high points like trees or buildings. As for the sound of thunder, while loud, it can’t cause physical harm, as it’s just rapidly expanding air. Being at home is one of the safest places to be, as buildings are designed to withstand storms and safely discharge lightning energy…”

“Honey,” you interrupted him. Your hands went up to his neck. “You don’t have to fix it with science. Sometimes, I just want to hear that everything will be okay.”

The man felt embarrassed for rambling on about it, but to make up for it, he leaned down to give you a soft kiss.

“Everything is fine, baby. I’ll be with you.”

Another thunderclap resonated, and even though you felt uncomfortable, being with him made it more bearable.

“What would I do without my handsome, strong, and protective man?”

“Are you talking about me? Or are you cheating on me with someone else?”

You rolled your eyes at his joke and tried to walk away, but he pulled you back to ask for a kiss. You didn’t resist, of course.

“I made hot chocolate. Do you want a cup?”

“Uh-huh. Let me get dressed, and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

You went to the kitchen to meticulously prepare a couple of cups with the drink and made sure to include marshmallows, as he liked. Additionally, you added pumpkin spice that you had specifically bought for his visits, knowing it was one of his favorite flavors of autumn.

When Spencer came out, dressed in pajamas that looked too comfortable and warm, you felt happy watching him. You had already placed his cup on the desk where he would be setting up, where several files and notebooks were already resting.

He thanked you with a kiss on the forehead and took a seat, not daring to lie on the couch next to you because he knew he wouldn’t get up again after that.

“Do you need help with anything?” you offered, even if you knew it was probably work too complex for you to do.

“No, it’s not necessary. But if you want, you can stay and keep me company while I work. I’d feel much better,” he replied.

You hummed in agreement and settled back into the armchair, beginning to sip from your cup while keeping the TV off, knowing that Spencer was bothered by noise when he was working. You felt a bit like an intruder in his workspace, but the idea of having him close calmed you.

As Spencer reviewed the printed files, you decided to watch him. His expression was one of concentration, with his brow slightly furrowed and his jaw clenched. It was evident that he was absorbed in his world of research, perhaps analyzing a recent case or reviewing the reports he had received.

You remained silent for quite some time until your curiosity grew, and you dared to ask:

“Is it a lot of work?”

“Kind of. I need to check a couple of details before sending a summary to the office,” he replied without taking his eyes off the paper. The familiarity in his voice gave you a sense of connection, even though you weren’t directly interacting.

“Difficult case?”

“A bit. There are many variables involved. I’m trying to break down the information to make it easier to understand. Sometimes work can be a puzzle,” he said, and although he seemed immersed in his task, there was a tone of passion in his voice that made you admire him even more.

That said, you decided not to interrupt him while he continued working. In his world, he could be a bit more reserved, and while you wanted to know more, you also understood that he needed his space.

As time passed, the rain continued to hit the windows, creating an enveloping atmosphere. Spencer seemed completely absorbed in his task, and at some point, he looked up at you and smiled, albeit briefly, before returning to his concentration. It was a simple gesture, but it made you feel included in his world, even though he was focused on something else.

“You know? I’m glad I came here,” Spencer suddenly said, breaking the calm. “I mean, not just because of the electricity, but sometimes work can be exhausting, and… I know, I feel overwhelmed, like I have a million things on my mind. But when I’m with you, I feel like I can set all that aside. It’s like your presence gives me a breather.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for that sincerity that had always captivated you. It was a vulnerable moment, and you felt grateful for his trust. Without saying anything, you got up and went to him to sit on his lap, letting him wrap his arm around your waist.

You both remained silent for a moment, feeling the weight of the night and each other’s closeness. But it was also evident that the day had been long for him. You noticed the tension in his body manifesting in his posture (despite having showered), as his shoulders were slumped, and his gaze, though still bright, showed signs of fatigue.

“You're not done yet?” you asked softly, running your hands through his still slightly damp hair. You had bought him a conditioner that smelled delightful and gave a silky feel.

“I did. I just need to sign off on the file to submit it at the office tomorrow.”

The vulnerability in his voice resonated with you.

“Do you want us to go to bed then?” you suggested, even though you felt there was more you could share.

Your boyfriend nodded with his eyes closed, a clear sign of exhaustion, and you promised him you’d be with him as soon as you finished tidying up in the kitchen. Spencer organized the desk, and once everything was ready, both of you headed to the bedroom. It was a cozy space, with the lights off, and the sound of the storm could be heard through the window. You got into bed, and he quickly joined you.

When he wrapped his arms around you from behind, the warmth of his body enveloped you and you felt all the tension you had built up during the storm melt away. You nestled against him, enjoying the sensation of his closeness.

“I like being here with you,” he murmured as he wrapped his arm around you. Spencer took a moment to breathe deeply, as if he were grateful for the small moment you had “I always have trouble falling asleep, but with you in my arms, it’s not so difficult"

The sincerity of your boyfriend moved you, and you felt him place a soft kiss on your shoulder, to which you responded by leaning closer to him.

You both stayed silent for a while, listening to the sound of the rain beginning to diminish. The tranquility of the night was like a blanket wrapping around you.

Finally, as the heaviness of sleep started to assail you, you felt the weight of the day fade away.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you said in a whisper, feeling the peace his presence brought you. “Love you.”

“Love you more,” he replied.

And as his eyes closed, you realized that despite the storms raging outside, there was a place where you both felt safe and comfortable.