#She's been doing it since she was 3 but that's because she's a little bitch like her ma | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toruro · 6 months

Text

— ✧ back to december

a part of flower me with love ... an hhu unit x flowers collection !

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), fluff, angst (resolved!), best friends to strangers to lovers

description: it's been four months and twenty-two days since you've last talked to mingyu, however your mother still thinks you two are friends. you don't have the heart to tell her what really happened, and now you think it's time for you to move on. (un?)fortunately for you though, mingyu seems to have other plans.

inspired by back to december by taylor swift!

tags: miscommunication, unrequited love (not fr though), big dick mingyu, sex in a car >_<, riding, fingering, pet names (angel, pretty), creampie :3

w/c: 4.3k

a/n: happy birthday @gyuswhore!!! this fic is for em but if not em and ur reading it i hope u enjoy too. this is like 2/3 plot and 1/3 smut if anyone cares

Normality is bliss.

That’s what you used to tell yourself. That’s what you used to believe.

Normality was bright mornings, crisp air, slow walking down the main street, inhaling the ambrosial scent of freshly roasted coffee beans, and slipping under the fairy lights that hang over the door. It was the warm sound of the overhead bell ringing, permeating laughter in the cafe from all customers, and daisies in a pot by the entrance.

Normality was Mingyu. His bright laugh as you approach the counter, sweet voice as he playfully asks you what drink you’d like, to which you roll your eyes and respond with, “You already know, don’t you?” It was the chuckle he would let out, the wink he flashed at you, murmuring the words, “It’s on the house” (because with Mingyu, it was always on the house), the thanks you give him before stepping back.

Normality was the latte he handed you, rough yet ginger fingers brushing over your palm as he warned you, “Careful, it’s hot,” and the giggle you let out when you stepped back and asked how his morning was going. It was Mingyu telling you nothing special happened yet. It was Mingyu suggesting that you two hang out at the field after he’s done with work. It was you grinning and agreeing in an instant, but only under the condition that he picks you up after your class.

Normality was bliss until four months and twenty-two days ago.

Now, normality hurts like a bitch.

Your mother glances at you from the corner of her vision as you rummage through the fridge. “What’re you looking for?”

“Some bread,” you murmur. “Was really craving a tomato sandwich … Damn, we’re seriously out of white bread?” you ask, giving up with a sigh as you close the door and face her.

She shrugs. “If it’s not in the fridge then I guess so. We’re low on produce too actually … I’d be surprised if you find tomatoes in there too,” she says. You purse your lip, shuffling through the different rows of cabinets to find something to throw together to take for lunch as your mother continues to speak. “You think you could stop by the grocery store after class today and pick up some stuff?”

“Yeah sure,” you reply casually.

“Ah, I wish Mingyu still stopped by with the groceries,” your mother says, and the sudden mention of his name has you halting your movements as you reach for a croissant, before you inhale deeply and go back to doing your own thing.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, clearing your throat after the word comes out horsley.

“You know why he stopped doing that?”

You try not to think about how you still haven’t told your mother that you and Mingyu don’t talk anymore.

“Uhh, I guess uni’s been getting to be a lot of work,” you tell her. “We’re both taking way harder classes so, uh, I guess he doesn’t have the time.”

“Hmm, yeah makes sense. You’re always swamped up in that room of yours ‘cause of work too … haven’t seen you two hang out in a while actually.”

You chew on your lip, staring down at your little bag for lunch and the croissant that sits inside. You wonder if you’ll even have the appetite to eat anything today after this conversation.

“We’re just busy. It’s harder to talk now.” It’s not entirely a lie. Grabbing the bag and picking up your backpack, you turn to face your mother who’s scrolling on her phone. “I’m gonna go now. My first class is starting soon.”

Now, normality is huffing as you get into your car, wishing you had a coffee next to you, but being too full of cowardice to head over to the cafe.

(“Go to a different cafe!” is what common sense would tell you, but common sense doesn’t listen to a love that has been betrayed. No other latte tastes the same, but you know that’s only because no other latte has been made by Mingyu.)

You pick up groceries on the way home.

Now, normality is staring at the daisies that are on display as you walk through the front doors of the store and reminiscing. It’s wondering what once was, and what could have been, if you decided to keep your silly feelings to yourself.

Normality is regretting. Regretting ever opening your mouth and telling Mingyu four months and twenty-two days ago that you loved him, and that you had loved him for not one, not two, not five, but ten damn years, because that was when you two met, and you always loved Kim Mingyu, but you should have known that not once did he love you back. Not how you would’ve wanted anyways.

Normality is wondering. Wondering if Mingyu would still be dropping off groceries if you hadn’t told him that you loved him, if he hadn’t told you he didn’t know what to tell you. Wondering if he thinks of you now. Wondering if he has any regrets. Wondering if he’s okay, but you lost the chance to know the answer to that question four months and twenty-two days ago. Wondering if—

Tomatoes. You need to buy the tomatoes, and the bread, some green beans, spinach, bell pepper, and more cheese, milk, maybe some butter, and—what was it that your mother told you to get? Oh, some strawberries.

You need to get all of these things, but there were no daisies on the list, so how did a bouquet full of them end up in your cart? You tell yourself you picked them up because they’re on sale, but you know the real reason is because you miss Mingyu.

Directing your attention back to the list you were sent on your phone, you hum lowly to yourself as you push your cart through the aisles. Checking items off your notes app, you exist with just yourself, your tomatoes, and fresh daisies as you try and finish these groceries before it gets too late into the evening.

Staring at your screen, you almost don’t notice that the dairy aisle isn’t empty until you bump into someone. “Sorry,” you mutter quickly, “I—” The words get caught in your throat when you see just exactly who you’ve hit.

Averting your gaze quickly, you wonder if Mingyu will respond, but you choose to scurry away quickly instead, because as cowardly as it sounds, you’re not sure if you’re ready to hear his voice again.

You’re not sure why your heart beats so fast when you escape into another aisle. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t read the look on his face for the brief second that your eyes met.

(Ten years of being best friends and you somehow don’t know what he’s thinking. Can four months and twenty-two days really change a person that much? Or did you never know Kim Mingyu in the first place?)

When you get home, your mother asks you where you got the daisies from. You tell her Mingyu gave them to you, because you want to convince her that you two are still best friends, and maybe—just maybe—you’re trying to convince yourself of it too.

You decide to buy a latte five days later. Mingyu never worked the evening shifts, so you’re confident you’ll get one of the other’s as the barista if you walk in past 6pm. Seokmin’s always nice. He doesn’t make the latte’s as sweet as you like—more specifically, as sweet as Mingyu made them—but he’s kind and always cheery.

When you walk in today, the pot by the door is empty. There are no more daisies, and you wonder if this is what has become of normality.

Your eyes glaze over the familiar setting, breathing in the sweet, rusty smell of coffee, and you smile watching all the cafe-goers laugh along with each other in their seats. All is going well, and you’re telling yourself that maybe this new normal isn’t too bad. That you’ve lived with it for four months and twenty-seven days, and so you can live with it longer and—

Your heart plummets when you see who's working the register today.

Maybe you really never knew Kim Mingyu, because you swore he hated the evening shifts, but here he is with a neatly tied apron, smiling while he talks to some girl across the counter. And his toothy grin is so bright and you aren’t sure if you’re seeing things correctly because everything sound has turned to a white rush in your ears and your vision blurs because you are once again awarded the painful reminder that you are in love with Kim Mingyu.

You thought your heart broke right in two back in December, but you hear it crack in this moment and realize that this was the final blow.

There are tears in your eyes, and you don’t know how long you stand there, until you hear your name. Seokmin is calling for you, and when you look up there’s no girl at the counter and it’s just Mingyu and Seokmin staring at you.

And you wonder briefly if you should be glad that Mingyu looks concerned but you don’t have time to dwell on the fact because Seokmin calls for you again—“Hey, are you okay? You—you’re crying”—and fuck, you’ve just humiliated yourself, so with fat tears hitting the dark wood ground you turn on your heel and rush out the door.

You keep thinking and wondering and regretting and you hate it all because regret has become normality, but regret is not a bliss.

You walk down the street, and you keep walking and walking and walking until you realize you forgot where you parked the car but none of that matters because all you’re thinking about is Mingyu’s smile, and how he doesn’t smile at you anymore. And so you walk faster and cry a bit harder until you’re so far down the street you don’t even know where you are anymore but it doesn’t matter because you don’t know who you’ve become.

And there’s footsteps thudding behind you—are you going to get kidnapped now? Fuck, you’ve already had the most horrendous sequence of events that could possibly happen to you in the span of five minutes, and now it’s going to get worse? If this goddamn kidnapper could just target you any other day, then maybe you wouldn’t whip around with tearful eyes, shouting into the dark: “Please don’t kidnap me! I’ll go with you any other day but—Mingyu!?”

His tall figure is hunched over, hands over his thighs as he heaves for breath, craning his neck to look up at you. “Kidnap you? Why in the world would I kidnap you?” he asks through harsh breaths. “Fuck, you walk so fast,” he groans, finally standing up as you furiously wipe your tears away in an attempt to actually make sense of this situation.

“I—” You want to reply, but then it hits you that this is the first time Mingyu has spoken to you in four months and twenty-seven days, and the thought is dizzying. “I don’t know,” you tell him, because you really don’t know. You don’t know a damn thing.

Mingyu looks at you with a look that you, once again, can’t seem to read. “Sorry, I—I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, and anyone would be able to see through the lie but you’re hoping that Mingyu doesn’t pry any further. He doesn’t move, nor does he say anything. “You can, uh, go back now,” you add, rubbing the back of your neck as you stare at the ground. “I’m okay.”

“You—you were crying.”

Opening your mouth to protest, you realize you can’t refute him now. Not when it was so painfully obvious. You choose silence instead, hoping that your apprehension will be enough to drive him away, although it only seems to egg Mingyu on.

You don’t expect the words he blurts out after a few moments of thickness.

“You don’t know how much I wish I could go back to December and change things.”

“Please don’t lie to me Mingyu,” you tell him, and he can just hear from the way you say his name that you are desperately pleading with him. When you finally look up at him with glossy eyes, he wonders how in the world he let things get this far.

“I’m not lying, I—I wouldn’t lie about this.”

“What do you mean by this, Mingyu? What is this?” You cover your face and begin to sob, but not without gasping out words between heavy breaths. “Please don’t do this to me, not again.”

And when you uncover your face and look at him again, he’s got some bewildered look on his face, and you can’t tell what he’s going to say next.

“The girl,” Mingyu starts to say. “That’s my cousin. She was visiting me at work and—”

“It’s not about the girl, Mingyu!” And that’s a bit of a lie because some part of it is about the girl but it’s mainly about you and it’s mainly about Mingyu—mainly about the two of you.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and speaks. “Sorry, I—you’re right.”

Silence once more, before you calm your breaths and shake your head. “You should head back, Mingyu.”

“No I—wait, I just—I’m not lying. I regret everything I did in December.”

“Ming—”

“No, please listen to me. I regret not telling you how I actually felt, but I was so confused,” he tells you, repeating your name. “I was confused and fucking terrified because if things didn’t work out for some reason, then I would’ve lost my best friend but—but I was fucking stupid and lost you anyways. And you know, I wanted to reach out. I wanted to talk to you so bad but then like last week, when I saw you in the grocery store, and—daisies.”

“Daisies?” You furrow your brows.

“Daisies. You had a bouquet of them in your cart,” Mingyu tells you, taking a step forward. “And I know how much you love daisies. Your favorite flowers in the world. I saw them in your cart and thought to myself, fuck, I missed my chance, because I thought you had them for someone else and—”

“They weren’t,” you blurt out. “I-I even told my mom you got me them,” you add bashfully, “because she doesn’t know we stopped … yeah.”

There’s a silence that sits between you two, but you’re starting to realize that silence has become normality and you are no longer content with that.

“Mingyu, do you love me?”

He doesn’t hesitate to respond. “More than you love daisies.”

You laugh through your drying tears. You laugh so hard it makes you cry no longer because of pain but because of happiness, and you shake your head and throw your arms around him. “Kim Mingyu, that is a bold statement.”

“What can I say?” he grins. “I’m a bold man.”

“Where was that bold man for the past four months and twenty-seven days?” you snort.

Mingyu raises a brow. “You’ve been counting?” For a moment your expression falls but then he shakes his head and smiles. “Don’t worry—I’ve been too.”

You two are quick to head back, Mingyu begging Seokmin to hold the first alone for the weekend before taking the wheel of your car and driving you both to your favorite field of daisies.

“Are we going to have sex for the first time in your car?” Mingyu asks with a chuckle, climbing into the backseat from one end while you pile in from the other.

Giggling, you meet his lips for a kiss as soon as the door shuts behind him, arms winding around his thick neck to bring him close. “The way you said that insinuates there we’ll be having more sex after this,” you tell him with a smile before diving back into another tongue twisting kiss.

“Hell yeah,” Mingyu groans against your tongue as you adjust to situate yourself over his lap, hips pressing dangerously close to his. “Gonna fuck you every day if I can. If you can handle that,” he adds.

You roll your eyes, pulling back to help yourself out of the cardigan and shirt you’re wearing. “What makes you think I can’t handle it?”

He only flashes you a toothy grin and quickly glances down at his groin area before winking at you. “You’ll see.”

“Kim Mingyu, you are a little shit,” you conclude despite the way your tummy churns at his insinuation, throwing off your shirt as Mingyu helps you out of a bra.

“I’m not little, that’s for sure … fuck, you’ve got the prettiest tits in the world,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your torso to pull you closer so he can plant his lips on the soft flesh. His mouth is warm, tongue tracing constellations over our skin before enclosing one of your nipples with his lips.

Slowly, his tongue traces circles around the stiffened nipple, teeth grazing over it ever so gently before biting down with slight force. “Ah!” you moan out, head thrown back as your hands travel up his neck and into his hair, fisting the thick, dark locks. “‘m sensitive, ‘gyu,” you tell him, shaky-breathed as he pulls his mouth off your tits with a slip popping sound.

“Sorry,” he says with a lazy smile. “Your tits are so nice,” Mingyu murmurs, bringing a hand up to squeeze over your other breast, tweaking the nipple in one hand as your hands begin to play with the hem of his tight fit shirt. “Fuck, can’t believe we didn’t fuck earlier. You know how much time we could’ve saved?” he says, pulling away just for a moment to peel the shirt off his body, revealing his firm, thick torso.

“I wonder whose fault that is?” You roll your eyes.

Mingyu frowns in response. “Don’t remind me … angel, take off your pants. Wanna finger you.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, because in an instant your hands are at the waistband of your pants as heat rises to your cheeks upon hearing his words. Just the thought of Mingyu’s thick, longer fingers inside your aching cunt is enough for it to pulse around nothing as you throw your pants to the side and shove your panties to reveal your core.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs under his breath as you readjust yourself over his lap so that he can have better access between your legs. Slowly, he brings one hand up to your exposed cunt, bringing his middle finger to circle around your gaping hole. “Shit, you’re so wet, angel … so wet for me.”

“Just for you ‘gyu, just for you” you gasp out when he sinks one finger in, rough pads rubbing against your warm, gummy walls.

Now Mingyu occasionally entertains the outrageous idea that he’s well composed, but he’d be a fool to deny that, even though he can turn you to mush in the palm of his hand, you also have him wrapped around your little finger.

You only have to beg him once or twice for a second finger before he’s giving in, wanting nothing more than to spoil you until you can’t even remember what you were asking for in the first place. And naturally, when you finally tell him that you’re ready for more—ready for his cock—he can’t help but grin and comply.

“You think you’re ready?” he asks, slipping his fingers out and shoving them into your mouth so you can taste yourself.

“You think I’m not?” you mumble around his fingers. You pout a little and Mingyu chuckles, leaning in to give you a wet and sloppy kiss before lifting his hips a little.

“You’ll see angel … help me take this all off,” he tells you, and you’re quick to grab at his waistband and yank his pants and boxers down at the same time.

“What are you talking ab—oh.” The words dry on your tongue when you see his cock spring out, from underneath his boxers, the thickness slapping against Mingyu’s abdomen.

It’s fat and long and veiny in all the right places, heavy balls resting at the base of it, the reddish-pink tip smeared all over with his shiny, translucent white precum.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says with yet another chuckle, watching your face as you gaze down at his cock in awe.

“I-is it gonna fit?” you ask incredulously, eyes glancing back and forth between the smirk on Mingyu’s lips and the long length of his cock. Mingyu just shrugs and smooths his hands over your hips, your stomach, and then your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Your stomach flutters, cunt growing more and more needy and wet as the seconds tick by, and the way Mingyu’s tongue flicks against yours only heightens the feeling. When he pulls away, he settles his hands over your waist and directs you right over his cock, and something in you swells with pure arousal with the next words he says.

“Don’t worry angel, I’ll make it fit. You trust me?”

“Yeah,” you breath out, steadying your position as Mingyu uses one hand to guide his heavy length so that the tip points upwards and presses right against you.

“Fuck yeah,” he hisses, and you moan as you feel him sliding against your folds in a slippery, sticky mess. “old onto me, yeah angel? If you want to stop just—”

“Say the word,” you finish for him, placing your hands on Mingyu’s bare shoulders as an attempt to steady yourself, breath hitching as his length pushes into your entrance. “Oh shit, ‘gyu!" you cry out as you begin to sink down on him.

Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes—you can’t even fathom how, even after all his prep, Mingyu still feels like he’s nearly splitting you in half.

“Fuck, pretty—you’re so fucking tight,” Mingyu grunts, helping you nearly impale yourself on his cock. “Fucking fitting inside you so well,” he praises as he bottoms out inside of you, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder as you take deep breath.

Mingyu knows he’s big—knows it’s hard to fit him inside of you—and he’s feels so fucking lucky that he has you—so willing to take all that he’s giving—sucking him in and whining for more. He waits a few moments, only listening to the way your heavy breaths start to grow lighter, until you’re whimpering a soft, “‘gyu.”

He wastes no time in jerking his hips upward, shifting inside of you and battering the inside of your soft walls. You bite down on his shoulder as you push your hips down to meet his thrusts, choking back soft sobs as you feel his cock kiss your cervix with each movement.

“Holy shit,” Mingyu grunts as you begin to bounce on his lap, his length slipping out of you halfway before being plunged right back in with a sopping mess growing on his thighs.

You whine loudly at the overwhelming pleasure that takes over your body, lifting your head up so you could look at Mingyu with your mouth agape and hair stuck all over your burning face, a sheer layer of sweat starting to envelope both your bodies.

Soon, both of your movements begin to grow erratic and sloppy, hips jamming into each other so hard you’d be surprised if you even have the ability to walk tomorrow. You now know why Mingyu was concerned about fucking every day.

“You g’na cum soon pretty? Cum all over my cock? I can feel it angel, can feel your pretty cunt squeezing me.”

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you manage to gasp out, “Yeah, ’m gonna cum—feels so good, so full, so—fuck!”

Mingyu’s cock pulses inside of you and that’s when every detail seems to be heightened to a thousand—as your orgasm racks through you, you seem to feel every curve, every vein, dragging in and out of you to such detail that it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you scream out his name.

Mingyu watches you fall apart, surrendering to bliss, and the way your hips are sporadically swiveling over his, your pussy’s wetness coating and creaming his cock has him going into a frenzy. Frantically, he begins to snap his hips faster up into you, your soft moans of overstimulation pushing him to his end faster than he can ever imagine. Watching the way he slides in and out of you is enough to have him cumming, shooting his hot, sticky load inside your warm cunt.

Riding out the last of his orgasm with soft rolls of his hips, Mingyu sighs contently at the feeling of you milking him dry, the both of you looking down at the wet, dirty mess you’ve made where the two of you connect, his cock still throbbing inside of you.

Both of you finally look up at the same time, grinning at each other, and you flop forward resting your head on his chest as he slowly combs his fingers through your hair, other hand running up and down your back.

“Why’d you start working the evening shifts?” you ask Mingyu after your breath has finally leveled. “I thought you hated those.”

“I did, but you stopped coming in the mornings, and I figured it was because of me. I hoped that maybe you would start coming in the evenings so I asked my boss to change my regular shifts just in case.”

“Oh wow, you really do love me.”

“I already told you I do! Even more than you love daisies, remember?”

#svt smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #svt fluff #svt angst #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu smut #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu angst #📝 writing

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bloompompom · 5 days

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Always the Quiet Ones*

*this is a revamped reupload of my previous fic

✽ summary: eren mistakenly took his new lab partner for being quiet, only to discover she was so much more than that. ✽ content: ~12.5k word count. eren jaeger x female reader, college au, one shot, mutual pining, smut, fluff, casual sex, praise, light spanking, explicit consent, alcohol, explicit language, explicit sexual content, reader discretion advised. 18+ ✽ a/n: i just really missed this fic </3

It was the honest-to-God truth when Eren said he wasn’t looking to catch feelings for anyone. But then you came along.

You were harmless enough—nothing more than his quiet lab partner in anatomy. He didn’t know what to think of you, other than you had a tendency to keep to yourself. On the rare occasion you spoke up, your words were always brief, pertinent to whatever assignment was at hand. But more often than not, you’d only address Eren with a cursory nod when he’d take his assigned seat beside you.

The class was awful enough, with two-hour labs being the worst part of Eren’s week because he spent them in a fumbling and awkward silence. But if you wouldn’t bother to glance up from your book when you talked to him, then he would treat you the same. He brought the bare minimum to conversations. He gave one-word answers; a specific grunt for yes, another for no, each you had to learn.

He couldn’t help but wonder why you were, for lack of better words, like that. Quiet. Standoffish. Withdrawn. He had a few theories on the matter—only because lectures were just that boring. His most probable theory was that you were shy. That would make the most sense, wouldn’t it?

Perhaps you were the type of student who took her classes way too seriously. He guessed you to be in your third year, like him. Maybe you were trying to get into a competitive graduate program. Or maybe you really liked anatomy. You seemed to like the textbook an awful lot, always reading far too closely in the way nerds do in cartoons. But other times, it was almost as if you were avoiding looking him in the eye.

Then there were the days—usually when Eren felt particularly disgruntled—that your quietness irked him to no end. He knew it was irrational to care so much, but damn it, why were you like that? And all the time, too. You must be stuck up. What else could he blame your perpetually cold shoulder on? He wasn’t proud of it, but sometimes he believed you were a bitch. Simple as that.

Eren’s theories could go on and on, but they all skirted the truth. At least, you didn’t think yourself a bitch. No, the reason behind your reserved demeanor was much more straightforward than that.

You had a stupid crush on Eren.

A girlish, twirling-your-hair-around-your-finger middle school crush. That made your stomach feel hollow and full, somehow at once, and had you gushing to your roommate despite knowing you’d never act on it.

It’d been like this since last semester, though you weren’t even sure Eren knew of your existence until Professor Hange partnered up the two of you.

God. Thinking about it now still riddled you with anxiety. You swore up and down that you were going to die that day. Like actually keel over from a heart attack in the middle of class and die.

In another universe, perhaps this forced proximity would have excited you. Maybe he would have given you his phone number to text about homework, and in that universe, you would have been giddy over it.

Unfortunately for you, in this universe, anatomy was far from your strongest subject. Very, very far.

You drove yourself mad over all the ways you’d inevitably embarrass yourself in front of Eren, lab after lab. It terrified you to where you wouldn’t dare ask him a question. What if you sounded dumb? So you’d press on without having him repeat himself and only scribble down what little you could manage.

It was despicable. It was despicable, and you knew it, and you still didn’t change a thing because it was much easier to pretend Eren wasn’t there to begin with. Even if it meant you’d started seeing your grade slip.

You hoped to keep that—and your crush—a secret, but there was one day he got a bit too nosy for your liking.

Professor Hange handed your lab report back, face down, like always. You knew professors did that for everyone, no matter the grade, but sometimes the rule felt targeted at you.

You didn’t want to, but you forced yourself to peel back the corner and take a peek. Unsurprisingly, a lousy grade met you on the other side. Again.

For someone wanting to hide their score, you weren’t as careful as you should have been when sliding the paper into your folder. Eren leaned back in his seat, just far enough to steal a glimpse from over your shoulder. For research, obviously. If you liked anatomy so much, then you must be pretty good at the subject.

But what he saw surprised him, especially when thought about his grade in the class. It slipped out on a chuckle when he said, “Wow. Are you even writing anything down?”

You startled, slamming your folder shut. “Huh?”

You couldn’t tell if Eren was joking or not. He was, but it didn’t come across as lighthearted as he had hoped. He often let his thoughts carelessly spill into words, but you didn’t know about that nasty habit of his. All you could think was shit, because he had finally figured out that you had no idea what you were doing.

Admittedly, Eren felt a little guilty once he saw the panic wash over your face. He cracked a smile at you, maybe for the first time. Still, his eyebrows furrowed in pity, like he couldn’t hold it back.

“The lab,” Eren clarified. He pointed to the crumpled paper, half in the folder, half poking out. “We do them together every week. How are you screwing up that badly?”

What kind of question was that? You gave him a hard frown and regretted thinking he’d be anything more than curt with you. Pity brows or not, you weren’t feeling much sympathy from him.

You didn’t reply, just stared past him blankly as you imagined how this horrible moment would torment you as you tried to fall asleep that night. You only snapped from it when you heard his chair drag against the tile. He sighed—a bit too loudly for you to consider natural—then started putting his belongings into his backpack.

“Look,” Eren began. He glanced up at you once he’d zipped his bag shut. His eyes made you flighty. “You don’t have to get stuck with a shitty grade. I bet I can help.”

His voice was flat, and you didn’t like his delivery much, but beneath it, there was a glint of kindness. You weren’t sure where it came from, and frankly, neither did Eren. He attributed it to his guilt for speaking so thoughtlessly. It was hard not to, what with the way your face—always so stoic that he’d think you were made of marble—turned sullen. He didn’t like how it made him feel. More than that, he disliked knowing you could pull such a reaction from him.

“You still have my number, yeah?” Eren asked.

You nodded. You did, in fact, still have his phone number. It was in the top corner of the first page of your notebook. He wrote it down after your first class together like you hoped he would. You decided not to do anything with it. You didn’t even save it, too worried about the possibility of drunk texting him.

“Good,” he said. “We can meet up sometime to study together.”

“Okay, yeah. Thanks,” you said, quietly at first, but your confidence grew with each word when you realized this might not have to become one of your top ten most embarrassing memories.

“Sure.” Eren stood up and swung his backpack over his shoulder. He smiled at you again. It was real this time, big enough to make your stomach flip. “I can’t let my lab partner flunk out on me.”

So that was where everything began. And by ‘everything,’ you meant how you and Eren would study together occasionally. Nothing more. Definitely not the fun sort of studying—you know, like having him study your anatomy rather than the pictures in his textbook. Oh, well. You could still dream.

It took two study dates (your term for them) before you didn’t sit on the edge of your seat around Eren. As lame as it sounded, he made you incredibly nervous, more nervous than you felt around him in class. And like in class, you tried your hardest to keep your eyes on your text. You knew if you looked at him, you’d turn into a pile of goo before you could even look away.

It was shameful to admit, but you’d catch yourself stealing glances at him, but only when you were certain he wouldn’t notice. The times when he was jotting down notes because you liked how he looked when he was pensive. His dark brows would sit low over his eyes, and his bottom lip would jut out ever so slightly. And sometimes, only when truly stumped, he’d run his fingers through his hair in thought. You liked that, too.

By the time midterms had come and gone, you started seeing Eren more and more, meeting outside of class twice a week—a third if you had a report due. By then, it was impossible to allow your heart to flutter every time you were around him, otherwise it was bound to give out.

What you wanted to call study dates quickly became what felt like tutoring lessons. And just to be clear, you were not the tutor. But after Eren had you convinced his willingness to help was genuine, you didn’t worry as much about sounding dumb. He never seemed bothered when he had to explain a topic, even if you went overboard with the questions.

It was nice to not have to think so hard around him. He’d poke fun at you because you always mixed up dorsal and ventral, and you never let him live down spelling ‘brain’ as ‘brian.’ “It was one time,” he’d always complain back to you.

After getting scolded one too many times in the library for goofing off, other spots around campus had to make do. Then that turned into you going to Eren’s place, just a five-minute walk from your lab building.

Eren lived in a house with three other boys. Jean, Connie, and Armin. You found Jean and Connie to be nice enough based on the handful of conversations you had with them. But Eren blamed them for the reason you didn’t study at the house often, accusing them of being too distracting to think straight.

Eren wouldn’t ever tell you this—hell, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d confess this to—but the real reason he didn’t like to study at his place was Armin.

Armin. Eren’s blonde best friend for the last ten years. His roommate that you would describe as cute as a button and sharp as a tack. He knew much more about anatomy than you and Eren. When Armin was bored, he’d join you on the couch and answer the questions Eren couldn’t.

He couldn’t pinpoint why it bothered him so much. He always knew Armin was smarter than him; it had never been a problem before, but now it irked him ceaselessly. Instead of trying to sort it out, he decided going to your apartment was the better solution. Your roommate, Hitch, was more tolerable.

It was near final exam week when it hit you, a smack-across-the-face reminder that you still had a crush on Eren. It happened when your study dates became less of a one-on-one thing and more like a group hangout.

You were friendly, something between classmates and acquaintances, with the peers sitting around you. One girl, Mina, told you she, Thomas, and Samuel were getting together to prepare for the upcoming final. She insisted you and Eren should join.

You didn’t respond right away. You couldn’t, not with the way your stomach churned when Eren answered for you.

“She needs all the help she can get,” he said, giving you a playful pay on the shoulder. He was only joking, but you wished he didn’t sound so eager. You especially wished his hand, innocently placed on your back, didn’t make your face burn.

You got over it quickly. It was difficult to stay bitter at people you got along well with, so much so that you’d accomplish more chatting than studying. Luckily for the rest of you, Eren and Thomas knew enough to help you skate by.

But when Eren began texting in the new group chat more than he’d text you, you weren’t afraid to say you noticed a sting. It felt like you’d let your chances with him slip by because, next semester, you wouldn’t be his lab partner anymore.

You left the exam feeling okay at best. You walked out with your head down, not paying any attention as Mina caught up to you. She invited you to come by her place that Friday night, that some of your classmates would be there to celebrate the end of Professor Hange’s pop quizzes. You thought little about it when you said yes.

You were at the get-together for an hour, maybe longer, when someone was drunk enough to start a game of Never Have I Ever. After your second beer, you felt just adventurous enough to play.

Mina’s living room was on the smaller side for hosting, but it was nice enough. She had everyone crowd around, sitting where they could, whether it was on the sofa or the floor, and in the center was an old beer. It’d warmed from sitting out for a few hours, according to Samuel, and chugging it would serve as punishment for putting the last of your fingers down. And while you were tipsy, you certainly hadn’t drunk enough for that.

You would, of course. But you didn’t know it then.

You sat on the floor, legs folded to your chest, with your hand growing tired in the air. Only your index finger remained standing when Mina shouted it was her turn.

“Never have I ever had a body count higher than five,” she announced.

A few people put a finger down, but it didn’t matter. You let your forehead drop to your knees in defeat. Everyone started laughing, hounding you to drink the beer when you whined, “Do I have to?”

If you weren’t busy downing that lukewarm can, pouting as you went, and your audience wasn’t too busy heckling you, maybe someone would have noticed how Eren went quiet, how a firm crease formed just between his unsettled brows.

He couldn’t articulate the feeling, but it reminded him of the one he got when he saw you laugh with Armin. Some strange burning, uncomfortably deep in his stomach. It made him not want to look at you any longer.

Your body count didn’t offend him. After all, he had to put a finger down for the same reason. Though you surprised him, he had to admit, but that wasn’t new. The more he learned about you, the more he realized his assumptions about you couldn’t have been more off—specifically the ones about you being a bitch and good at anatomy.

Eren studied you from across the room. Your nose crinkled; giggles spilled from you as you tried, for the second time, to finish the rest of the beer. Eren had heard you laugh—many times, actually—but something about it always made his chest go tight.

His thoughts ventured further, wandering, wondering if you crinkle your nose the same way when you come.

He could see you beneath him, naked. Brows pinched together cutely, teeth dipped into your swollen bottom lip. He could feel your thighs under his hands, soft and giving under his palms as he slipped between—

It was so wrong of him. To be in a room full of people and pretend as if you were the only two people there. The only two people to exist.

That swarming in his gut burned hotter. He took another sip of his beer like it would dull it.

There was a moment of doubt. Almost like a hangnail, he could pick and pick at it until he created a wound of his own making. What was so wrong with him that made you uninterested?

He could deny naming the sick feeling as much as he wanted, but Eren knew what it was: insecurity. He was jealous of people he didn’t even know, for no other reason than they had the chance to be with you in all the ways he craved.

He felt fucking pathetic for it.

Eren didn’t stay at the party long after that. You left Mina’s just before midnight and didn’t think of much of that night, or Eren, for the rest of the weekend. On Monday, you checked your final grade for anatomy, and by some miracle, you passed the class.

It was well into winter break when you saw Eren again. You bumped into him at a house party, when there was about a week left until classes started and everyone was trickling back to campus to celebrate the new year.

You didn’t expect to see him this soon—actually, you weren’t so sure you’d ever see him again. Anatomy was the only glue holding you together. You wished you could say you had more faith in the friendship, in him, but he hadn’t talked to you since Mina’s party. You thought he would have at least been curious to know how you did in the class.

It was probably better this way, you told yourself, considering you nearly failed the class because of him. Well, you technically passed because of him too, but you wouldn’t have needed to worry about failing if he wasn’t your lab partner.

All that for a silly crush.

You stumbled into Eren toward the end of the night, the time when parties turn spacey and liminal; the limbo dividing night and day. A few lights were on now, and whoever was in charge of the music had clearly given up a while ago. Everything was a not-so-subtle sign pointing toward the exit.

Believe it or not, you wanted nothing more than to go home. You would have been out of there thirty minutes ago if it weren’t for Hitch. Your loveable, yet self-proclaimed ditzy roommate had disappeared.

By the time you thought to search for her, you had already drunk past your limit. You were dizzy, starving, and having poked your head into every room and around every corner. No Hitch, but you walked in on a lot of dry humping.

The last time you saw her, she was one of those dry humpers. She was all over some guy you guessed to be the reason she wanted to come to the party. Anyway, you were sure you’d catch his name tomorrow morning.

You were too distracted, too bubbly from the leftover New Year’s champagne, to see what was in front of you—even if he was rather tall, broad, and hard to miss. You didn’t even look twice as you walked past Eren. He’d only grabbed your attention once you heard your name, disappointed that the voice was too deep to belong to Hitch.

You spun around and the floor tilted with you. It took you a few steps to straighten back out, but once you did, your vision settled on Eren.

He gave you a lop-sided smile, serving as nothing more than a hesitant greeting. He only made it more awkward by throwing in a cheeky, “Long time, no see.”

You offered a chuckle that was only half-forced, the other half genuine simply because it was easy to impress anyone after they’d spent the night drinking.

And because you’d spent the night drinking, you felt all weird when you looked at Eren. You weren’t upset with him—maybe disappointed. Not disappointed in him exactly, he never owed you his kindness, but disappointed by what could have been.

But now that he was here, getting shoved closer and closer with each passerby, you didn’t know what to think other than you should’ve skipped that last drink. You’d hoped to feel more like yourself the next time you saw Eren. The last thing you wanted was to get tangled up in him again; you weren’t sure you’d be able to unravel yourself a second time.

Eren took a willing pace toward you. Your gaze was boozy, eyes hazy and distant. He recognized the look and had a feeling you wouldn’t speak first, so he asked, “Were you looking for someone?”

“Hitch,” you said. There was a pause. You weren’t sure if he remembered he’d met her. “My roommate.”

“I know.”

“We were supposed to leave to get food, but I think she took a guy home,” you told him, for no reason in particular. “Last time this happened, I walked in on them doing it on the counter.”

Eren laughed, harder once your face winced at the memory, a sight seared into your brain, for sure. “You should really consider finding a new roommate.”

“And in the meantime?”

“You come back to my place,” he said, so casually that you were positive you didn’t hear him right. Your face must have given you away, and he tried to play it off with a shrug. “What’s the big deal? You’ve slept on my couch before.”

He was right. You’d fallen asleep on his couch while studying once. Okay, twice. He teased you about it, saying you got drool everywhere.

“That’s different,” you said sheepishly. “That was an accident.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place,” he teased.

“Maybe you shouldn’t make your flashcards so boring!”

Eren liked his simple flashcards. He actually preferred them. Not everyone needed to spend more time color-coding and highlighting their flashcards than studying them.

He tilted his head with the sort of look that said, stop being so stubborn. "Fine. Then how about you tell me how to make them look nicer on the way to my place? I was just about to leave, anyway.”

He took a step backward, daring you to follow, and then another, until he turned on one foot and headed for the front door. He knew you’d follow him, and thoughtlessly, you did, trailing right behind.

You called out to him, “You don’t really need them now, do you? The class is over.”

“I just thought you might need ‘em.” Eren bounded down the porch steps, tossing a glance over his shoulder, ready to catch the expression you’d make when he said, “Figured you had to retake the class.”

You wished you had shoved him down the steps, but he had already crossed the lawn. He walked with longer strides than you and didn’t seem concerned about whether you could keep up.

“Thanks for that,” you replied begrudgingly.

“Anytime.”

It didn’t take long for you to near campus. You walked along the main drag, lined with various bars and late-night bites that thrived in the college town’s nightlife. It made it impossible to tell the time, what with every club still playing music loud enough to thrum in your chest, its beat perfectly in tempo with your every step—those of which were still struggling to match Eren’s.

“Did you still want to get food?” he asked.

“Hm?” You couldn’t hear him over your shuffling, your feet dragging against the sidewalk. They’d started hurting hours ago, and this jaunt certainly wasn’t making it better. You really shouldn’t have worn the new shoes you received over the holidays.

“You never listen, do you?” Eren didn’t say it with annoyance but with a laugh. “I’m surprised you’ve made it this far.”

“No, you just mumble a lot,” you defended. “And for your information, I’m not retaking anatomy. I passed with a C.”

“A C-plus or a C-minus?”

“Plus,” you said with inflated, drunken confidence.

“I’ll alert the media,” Eren replied. You stuck your tongue out at him, though you knew he wouldn’t see it. “Now tell me, did you still want to get food or not?”

“I didn’t think it was still an option.”

“‘Course it is.” He finally looked back at you from over his shoulder, just in time to watch you stumble over a crack in the sidewalk. “I think you could use something to eat.”

Eren rounded the next corner, a block short of the street he lived on, and led you a few doors down to a diner, breakfast served 24 hours. You expected to flag down a street vendor over sitting down to eat, but you couldn’t complain about some drunk pancakes.

Eren chose the booth in the back after the hostess instructed you to seat yourselves. The place was small and smelled of stale coffee—just as any diner would at this hour. And stale or not, you knew you’d need to down a mug or two if you wanted to sober up.

The server flipped your ceramic mug over and filled it to the brim. If it were nine in the morning, steam would pour out like it did in the movies, but you didn’t want to know how long this coffee had sat out.

You took it with cream, then dumped some sugar in, too. Reaching for a second packet, you caught Eren staring as you tore it open, hands folded around his mug.

“Something the matter?” you asked.

“Want any coffee with your sugar?”

“Ha-ha.” You added the sugar, now out of spite. When you took your first sip, it tasted as bitter as you expected.

Now that you were off your feet, the pain gnawed at you. You wiggled your shoes down, just enough for your heels to slip free from the backs. But it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t bear to keep them on another second—the diner was empty anyway. Once they were off, your feet pulsed as if they had their own heartbeat.

The server took your order before disappearing again, only making rounds to offer a warm-up here or there, one of which you accepted. This time, when you added another packet of sugar, Eren kept his comments to himself. There was a lapse in conversation, one you spent fiddling with the paper scraps.

“You know,” he started. You peered up from the wad you’d rolled between your thumb and forefinger. He sat back in the booth, looking out the window with a quiet sort of chuckle. “I thought you hated me when we first met.”

You matched the laugh, yours more disbelieving. “Hated you? I don’t think I knew you enough to hate you.”

As if he were thinking aloud, he said, “You were always so quiet.”

“Being quiet doesn’t mean you hate someone.”

Eren’s eyes flashed from the window to you. “Then what does it mean?”

It was easier to talk to him when he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze felt smothering. You avoided him, your attention retreating down to the spoon you twirled anxiously around your mug. The clanging of ceramic was the only sound between you because you still hadn’t responded.

“I don’t know,” you said, hoping you would have come up with a more profound answer by now. “It just means you’re quiet, I guess.”

A short stack of pancakes interrupted Eren, slid right between the two of you and decorated with a gooey scoop of butter. He’d only ordered a coffee, even after you insisted on paying as a thank-you for tonight, so once the server left, Eren was quick to jump back into the conversation, much to your dismay.

“But you’re not quiet, and you’re not all that shy either,” he told you like he’d caught you in a lie. You urged him on with a raised brow. He scoffed. “Don’t give me that. I know that’s not you. I saw you dancing tonight.”

Your hand stalled as you reached for the syrup. “You saw me dancing?”

He played it off with, “Well, yeah. My so-called quiet lab partner actually knows how to dance? It just surprised me, that’s all.”

“If you saw me earlier,” you said, forking a slice of pancake, “why didn’t you come and say hi?”

Strike that—Eren almost played it off. He couldn’t hide his shifty eyes, or how long it took him to excuse it away. “Oh, I think someone grabbed me for a game of beer pong or something. I don’t remember.”

That never happened. Eren knew it, and it looked like you knew it, too. The truth was he didn’t go up and talk to you because he’d spent the last two weeks convincing himself he wasn’t into you. The party turned out to be the ultimate test of willpower, which he so evidently failed.

Eren even went as far as reinstalling all the dating apps he’d long sworn off. He dumbly assumed if he went on a date, maybe even brought a girl home, then he’d be in the clear; he wouldn’t think about you anymore. But by the time dinner was over, Eren knew there wasn’t any use in taking things further. He’d spent the evening comparing her to you, finding himself every time she laughed because it didn’t sound like yours.

Then he saw you tonight. Of course, he had to see you tonight. And of all the things you could have been doing, you were dancing. Having fun, enjoying yourself. He favored you like that, when you were carefree. You were nothing like the girl he thought he met in class.

And when Eren heard your laugh—strangely more remarkable than any other, like he’d gone deaf to anything but you—he couldn’t even remember why he tried to stay away from you.

But here you were, seated across the booth from him, cheeks stuffed with pancakes, and he had no clue what he was supposed to do next. He’d spent the entire walk wrangling with himself, scared that if he had you, even in the most innocent of ways, he wouldn’t be able to get enough.

Eren knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this, not yet, because—fuck, what if you still didn’t want him back?

Eren only lied about beer pong because he couldn’t outright confess to needing a drink before talking to you. He was so close to getting away with it, too. If you’d gone for another bite a second earlier, if he’d thought to take a sip of coffee to cover his face, maybe you wouldn’t have spotted the flushed bridge of his nose. So subtle yet telling enough that you had to bite your inner lip to prevent a smile.

You held your fork before your face, inspecting the square of pancake as a string of syrup dripped onto the plate. You were rather flippant about it when you finally told Eren, “It’s because I had a crush on you.”

“Huh?”

You plopped the pancake into your mouth, chewing so slowly that it nearly killed Eren. Once you swallowed, you finally said, “I had a crush on you. That’s why I was so quiet.”

Eren said nothing in return, even with you staring him straight in the face, expectant. You waited—for what felt like an eternity but was more like a second—until you couldn’t take the ambivalence any longer.

Your half-laugh fell flat as you went on to explain, “That, and you always got better grades than me. I didn’t want you to think I was dumb.”

Almost as if he didn’t hear it, still fixed on what you’d said before, he asked, “Do you still?”

It was a simple question, just three words, yet he said so much more than intended.

You knew what he was asking, but you played dumb. “Still what?”

“Have a crush on me.”

You thought it over while you took another bite, eyes on him like he already had the answer. He did. You both did. Still, you let the question hang heavy between you for another moment. You weren’t entirely ready to lay your cards on the table. Yet.

You tossed him a small smile as you answered, “To be determined.”

Eren nodded once, lips folded together in a similar sort of grin. “Got it.”

That didn’t mean your answer satisfied him, though. He watched as you took another sip of coffee, then immediately reached for another sugar packet. Before you could pour it in, he shielded the mug.

“But you better figure it out before all that sugar kills you.”

You swatted him away. “Yeah, it’ll definitely be the sugar that kills me, not the keg stand I started the night with.”

“You did a keg stand?”

He said it like he didn’t believe you. You giggled, “Only because Hitch talked me into it.”

Eren laughed with you despite shaking his head. “See, what did I say? You surprise me.”

You had only taken a few hobbles out of the diner before your heels started hurting again. The pain intensified with every step, and you sucked your teeth sharply. You noticed two fresh blisters, one on each heel, when you put your shoes back on before leaving, but thought you could handle the short walk to Eren’s house. But now, you wished you were still drunk enough to ignore the burn.

“Everything okay back there?” Eren asked.

You were behind him again, but not because of his long strides. “Yeah.”

He thought it sounded unconvincing. He looked back to confirm his hunch just in time to see you stumble.

“It’s my shoes,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

He stopped walking, turning to you. “Why are you apologizing?”

You stammered, “I don’t know.”

“Just take ‘em off.”

“I’m not going to walk around barefoot.”

“Didn’t say you had to.”

You didn’t get what he was saying, even less when he turned his back to you. Then, when he bent slightly at the knee, it made sense.

He couldn’t be serious right now.

“My house isn’t that far. I’ll carry you there.”

Okay. He was being serious. He was ready and willing to give you a piggyback ride.

You didn’t intend to laugh, but it was only because this situation was so ridiculous—and partly because of your own anxiety, fizzling at the thought alone.

Eren took it differently, shooting you a playfully offended look when he said, “What? You think I can’t carry you?” He straightened out, shoved his hands into his pockets, and began walking away. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

“Wait!”

You wanted to blame it on your feet or because you didn’t want to slow him down, but you had to be honest with yourself—aching feet or not, were you really going to pass on this opportunity?

Eren flashed a smile over his shoulder. “That’s what I thought.”

Ignoring his boasting, you ripped off your shoes. He took them from you in one hand, and then let you hop onto his back. His body didn’t give like you would expect, and his arms felt sturdy as they looped around your thighs.

You hadn’t had a piggyback ride since you were probably eleven years old, but you didn’t remember them feeling anything like this. Eren’s neck was warm against your arms, exceptionally so in the crisp night air. His hands were even hotter, having you convinced they’d sear themselves into the backs of your thighs.

He jostled you forward, higher onto his back. “Hold on tighter or else you’re gonna fall off.”

You hugged him, pressing your chest against his back. You’d never been this close to him before, close enough that his hair, only loosely tied back, brushed against your face. Faint notes of his cologne—warm like amber, but there was something you found refreshing about it—tickled your nose. You drew in closer, inhaling the scent, him.

Eren worried you might have felt the roll of his throat when your breath broke over the nape of his neck. How embarrassing that something as innocent as a piggyback ride could send his heart racing. As if suddenly, he was back in junior high, and it was his first time holding a girl’s hand all over again.

If this was all he’d have of you tonight, or ever, he’d be happy with just that. Even if it meant he’d wake up with a sore back. He wanted to earn your heart, even if he wasn’t so sure your crush had ever gone away.

The house was too dark for you to make out a thing. You stilled in the entryway, just behind Eren, and waited for him to walk ahead.

Not a second later, he flipped a light on from the kitchen. Your eyes adjusted after a few blinks, and he appeared again from around the corner. He wore a look of trepidation, staring at you like you were a lost puppy he’d taken in and didn’t know what to do with.

“Can I get you some water?”

“Sure,” you replied. “Thank you.”

He waved a hand toward the sofa, saying, “Make yourself at home,” before disappearing again.

You’d hardly made yourself comfortable by the time he returned. You didn’t even realize how rigid your arms were until you uncrossed them to reach for the water bottle Eren handed you.

He sat on the other side of the old couch and it squeaked beneath his weight.

“I imagine you wouldn’t want to sleep on the couch in a house full of guys,” he started, settling into the couch. “Take my room, if you want. I can sleep out here.”

You almost choked on your water, immediately shaking your head. “I’m not going to take your bed.” You couldn’t, possibly. You’d never even been in his room before. “You didn’t even need to go to the trouble of letting me stay the night.”

“Out of all my troubles,” Eren said with a certain warmth to his face, “you staying the night is the least of them.”

You smiled at him. You smiled at him, and you had no clue how it pulled at his heart. It was shy, no greater than a curl of the very corner of your mouth, yet he craved nothing more than to feel the shape of it under his lips and memorize the taste.

“Okay.” You finally gave in. You could have ended it there, and you probably should have, but you nervously rambled on, “But, really, if it’s too much—if you want me to go, I can call a—”

“I don’t want you to go.”

You stammered, opening and closing your mouth as you pretended you had any clue what you’d say next. Something changed; you didn’t know what. An energy shift, a new glint in his eyes—that look he was giving you.

Maybe it was more accurate to say that everything had changed.

There wasn’t much air to your voice when you said, “I don’t want to go either.”

Your admission was barely a whisper. So delicate that Eren wasn’t even sure you intended to say it aloud. Your eyes were big and genuine, like you had revealed some vulnerable part of you. He couldn’t look away, risking losing what little composure you hadn’t stolen from him yet.

You liked him like that—getting to witness such an unguarded look on a face that was always hardened. Soft and electric, all at once. You never thought he’d look at you in such a way, only in your dreams, and you didn’t want it to end.

Now or never.

“Eren?”

“Yeah?” His voice was just as taken as yours.

You knew yourself as anything but bold, but right then, you were. Purring your words when you asked him, “Why are you always so nice to me?”

The distant light from the kitchen cast shadows along the angles of his jaw, highlighting how it tensed.

“Am I?” Eren asked. His voice had gained a new rasp.

You nodded.

“How so?”

“You know,” you said slowly, knowingly, leaning into him. “You walk me home when I’m drunk. Carry me when my feet hurt.” You tucked your legs beneath you, sitting back on your calves, knees bumping up against his thigh. “You let me spend the night, even offer me your bed.”

Eren thought you might kiss him right then, but you only giggled. “Not to mention, you tutored me in anatomy for an entire semester without complaining once.”

You rested a daring hand on his leg. He looked from it to you before teasing, “I think I might’ve complained once.”

He moved with you, at your pace. He cupped your cheek, and you tried not to melt into him.

“But I can’t help myself.” His thumb traced over your skin. “You’re very cute when you’re drunk and when you’re proud of yourself for passing a quiz.” He unexpectedly grins. “And when you hold your book too close to your face when you read.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do.”

You didn’t press the subject any further because it didn’t matter; you were so close that the tips of your noses were nearly brushing against each other. With your face still in his hand, he swiped his thumb along your bottom lip. Unwittingly, you wetted them like you wanted a taste.

Neither of you wanted to be the first to crumble the wall, the one you spent a semester building together, so tall that there were times you couldn’t see over it.

You might have been feeling courageous, but you knew you’d regret it the next time you saw Eren on campus. You could see it now, the smug smile he’d give you from across the hall, or the far side of the green—wherever you’d inevitably bump into him again. He’d turn you into a puddle right on the spot.

That didn’t concern you. Not after you heard the needful groan he stifled from the very back of his throat, and you desperately wanted to hear it again.

Eren caressed your face. You tilted into him until your forehead pressed against his, and you could feel his breath on your lips.

“I still have a crush on you,” you whispered.

“Yeah, I know.” He wasn’t cocky about it, but soft. He sounded relieved.

Your hand left his thigh, traveling higher until you had it splayed against his chest. The muscles twitched beneath your touch. Eren couldn’t help but wonder if you knew what you were doing to him, how insane you’d driven him. You had to.

“So,” you said, long and drawn-out.

Your fingers toyed with the fabric of his shirt, the tips of them grazing and pinching like you wanted to yank him to you.

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Spoken like a true temptress, like a lioness playing with her food. You let your gaze linger intentionally long before locking onto his eyes.

Eren nearly gulped. “Fuck—c’mere.”

The hand he had on your face slipped higher. His fingers wrapped around the back of your head to pull you to him.

What you thought would be a crash of lips was much more affectionate. Instead of kissing you as if he believed he could make up for lost time, he kissed you softly, thoughtfully, like he knew he had all the time in the world with you now.

Your lips parted to invite his tongue in, hot and licking against your own. Your head spun, but not because of the alcohol. Attempting to ground yourself, you snatched a fistful of his shirt with a trembling hand. But the longer he made out with you, taking his time with seemingly no destination in mind, the more helpless you became.

“Eren.” It left you in a gasp, swallowed up before it had the chance to meet the air.

He angled your head slightly, exposing your neck for him to explore. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek. Then you felt his lips at the hollow below your ear, gasping as his teeth skimmed lower.

“Hm?” he hummed, unbothered. Like he was oblivious to how turned on you were, how just his breath against your skin had your thighs clenching.

“That’s why you didn’t want me to leave, right?” Your voice warbled as you spoke, eyes fluttering shut as he began mouthing along your neck, sucking like he wanted to leave a bruise.

You palmed lower, over the front of his jeans. He was hard, straining against them, and you massaged over his length a few times. You waited and listened for his breath to falter before reaching for his zipper.

“Because you’ve thought about this before,” you murmured. With his jeans undone, you snuck your hand inside his boxer, wrapping your fingers around his cock. You nuzzled your face just below his jaw, peppering kisses, noting his quickening pulse as you began stroking him, base to tip. “Because you were hoping this would happen.”

“Yes,” Eren groaned. He would have tried to hold it back, but he was already staving off his urge to rut into your hand.

“I was, too,” you confessed.

That broke him. Before he knew it, he had you pinned between him and the couch.

Your back hit the cushion with another whine from the springs, louder and more obnoxious than before. When Eren kissed you this time, he didn’t want to take his time with you anymore. Not after hearing that you wanted him in the same ways he needed you.

The couch quickly became too cramped for your liking, with limbs slipping and spilling until you thought you might fall to the floor. Only when your kiss broke—because your head was dangling over the edge of the sofa—did you have a moment to catch your breath, or at least try to.

“You said,” you panted, collecting yourself. “You said I could sleep in your room.” Eren nodded, eyes hazy as he looked down at you. “Maybe you should show me to it now…”

He stalled, his brain short-circuiting for the obvious reason before he picked up on your heavy-handed implication.

“Yeah, okay.”

Eren helped you upright before you untangled yourselves from one another. You climbed the stairs in a hurry, tripping over your feet because you couldn’t imagine keeping your hands off each other. You followed just behind him, your hand in his, as he led you to his bedroom.

His hands were reckless as they pawed over your body, anywhere they could. Yet his touch maintained a certain firmness that had you weak in the knees, struggling to suppress your whimpers. Each tiny sound seemed to encourage him, riling him until he had you braced against the door, slamming it shut with your combined weight.

Eren caged you in place, with forearms planted on either side of your head. But you would have stayed there, willingly. Forever, if you could.

You almost hated yourself for how submissive you felt to him. He kissed you commandingly, yet gently enough that he could take you anywhere he pleased.

You hated yourself more for getting turned on at just the thought.

Taking his loose, unzipped jeans between your fingers, you tugged him close, hooking a leg around his waist. You felt his cock pressing between your legs, ground against it because if you didn’t, you thought you might explode; you were only human, after all.

Eren’s hands gripped your ass, helping you roll against him a few times before mumbling, “Bed?”

His voice was shallow, all breathless, like his lungs were running on empty. You liked this version of him—when he was needy for you.

“Bed,” you affirmed with a bob of your head.

That was all it took before Eren scooped you into his arms, whirling you around until he had you collapsed onto the bed.

You sprawled out with a stretch of your back. It felt so good to lie amongst the billowy comforter, off your feet. You nestled around, almost like you could have lulled off right then—almost.

Eren turned on his bedside lamp, and though the light was dim, you felt keenly aware of his gaze on you as you peeled off your shirt. It bunched as you snaked it over your head, its slinky fabric hugging your body, revealing your bra with a subtle bounce of your tits. Every part of it, of you, was so shamefully sexy, Eren couldn’t get enough.

His hands closed over yours when you reached for the button of your jeans as if to tell you, let me do it. You allowed it, watching as he opened the front of them. His fingers glided along your stomach until he reached your hips. From there, he pulled the fitted denim down your legs. You kicked them to the side once they’d reached your ankles.

The sight of you, ready and beneath him, had him overwhelmed, to say the least. He didn’t know where to look—he didn’t even know where to start.

His fingertips, though lightly calloused, felt exceedingly gentle as he trailed them over your bare skin. So softly that if you closed your eyes, you might not even know he was there. He started just beneath the underwire of your bra, then down the length of your stomach. At your hip, his touch tickled, and you squirmed so cutely beneath him.

Eren wanted to say something witty, but the sight of you stirring below him had him spacey, leaving him quiet. Even the chuckle he gave was practically inaudible, just a huff through his nose.

Despite the fog, Eren had a fleeting moment of lucidity. He blinked, hard, like it would clear his head. You struggled to read him, staring at you like you’d given him reason to be suspicious.

Then he asked, “How are you?”

You mirrored his suspicion, eyebrows knitting together. “I’m good. Um, how are you?”

His face scrunched like he was about to say, not good. It made you nervous.

You perched on your elbows, interested, waiting on him. He ran his fingers through his hair, the same way he always did when he was trying to concentrate.

“We’re a little past exchanging pleasantries, don’t you think?” you joked, mainly because you didn’t know what else you were supposed to say.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Eren brought his hand to his forehead like he could capture his thoughts before they slipped away. “Like, I mean—” Coherency was hard, especially with you laid out before him, head tilted with curiosity, staring up at him through pretty, heavy lashes. Had they always been that long?

Finally, he blurted out, “Are you still drunk?”

You were relieved to learn nothing was wrong. You thought over your answer, taking inventory of your body, every fiber of your being only wanting him.

“Not really,” you said with a slight shrug. “Those pancakes were a real lifesaver.”

He still looked hesitant. You took his hand, giving it a small squeeze before smiling at him. “I want this. Like really, really want this.”

Eren let out a short laugh that softened you up even more. With your assurance, his fingers began dancing along your skin again, pulling lightly at the band of your underwear. He played with it, his once-boyish expression turning more brazen as he asked, “Then is it okay for me to touch you here?”

His voice was gruff, the timbre of it still ringing between your ears. You couldn’t help the sound it pulled from you. A sweet little moan, so delicious that Eren felt his cock twitch before he could even remove your underwear.

“Yes,” you murmured, eyes fixed on him, on his fingers. They pushed beneath your panties despite your hope that he’d simply take them off.

That single, breathy word gave Eren the go-ahead. He crawled over you, holding himself up with his free hand. Propped on your elbows, your face was inches away from his. So close that with just the tilt of your head, you were kissing him again.

Eren’s fingers ventured lower, sweeping between you teasingly, but it was as if he was teasing himself.

"You’re so wet,” he groaned, still playing with you. He’d circle your clit until your jaw went slack, then remove the pressure just to trace your entrance. “All for me?”

“Mhm.” You exhaled indulgently when his fingers returned to your clit, rubbing languidly. When you lifted your hips for more, his circles became tighter, quicker, giving you exactly what you needed. You let go then, allowing your wobbly elbows to give out.

Eren chased after you, nipping down your neck until he found the spot he’d learned you liked best, especially when he sucked on it. He yanked a sharp whine from you, another as he continued leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat.

Eren, Eren, Eren. You were consumed by thoughts of him, only him. Consumed by how good he made you feel and every place you wanted him.

And when you cried out, “Ah—all for you,” you certainly weren’t thinking about how desperate you sounded for a guy who’d been nothing more than your lab partner until tonight.

That did it for him. In one impulsive motion, Eren stood up straight, hooked his fingers around the band of your panties, and tore them off with ease. Once they were out of his way, lost amongst your other garments, his hand was rightfully back between your legs.

He pumped his middle finger inside you first, curling it just right to have your back arching, your breath already hitching in your throat.

You thought he’d be arrogant about it, how he already had you, quite literally, bending to his will. But he’d already lost himself in you, every bit of you. Your tiny gasps, spilling from kiss-swollen lips. Your bra and the way its straps had limply started falling down your shoulder, exposing the supple skin of your chest. How pretty your cunt looked, taking his finger.

His pace ignited that familiar feeling within you, but as quickly as it started burning in your stomach, you’d lost it just as fast.

With a frustrated sob, you opened your eyes to see why he’d rudely edged you like that.

Eren yanked his shirt over his head and threw it aside. “I wanna go down on you.”

You felt his words hot at the back of your neck—either that or it was the sight of his deceivingly toned stomach. Whatever it was, you couldn’t decide before Eren started stripping from his jeans. And if you were still unsure why you’d clammed up, the tent in his boxers, large and threatening to undo you, was most certainly it.

You tried your best to look at his face when you asked, “Don’t you think we should be fast? All of your roommates are home.”

That was the last thing Eren wanted. He wanted to have you, all to himself, for as long as you’d allow. But that was easy for him to say now; his willpower had already started waning.

“They’re sleeping. Don’t worry about them.” Eren thumbed circles against your inner thigh encouragingly, making it difficult to say no to him. At least until he cracked his usual devilish smile. “I thought you said you were quiet.”

The daggers you shot him said enough. You had only started to quip something back when Eren shut you up. He leaned over you, encasing you in his warmth. You felt his lips, his tongue, at your neck, running along the silky skin.

He sucked at the lobe of your ear, and the airy giggle you gave traveled straight to his cock. He kissed your collarbone as he tugged down the cups of your bra. Though his breath was warm, it sent goosebumps scattering across your chest. His tongue flicked over one of your perked nipples, and you rewarded him with a moan—even louder once he took it into his mouth.

You were so, so sensitive. All for him, too. Eren craved to discover every nook on your body he could kiss and every sound you’d make in response. He wanted to learn every last part of you, especially the ones that would have you wrecked.

He continued kissing down your stomach, with him lowering to his knees on the ground. Taking your legs, one in each hand, he pulled them back to make room to settle between. He placed them over his shoulders, bringing you in until your bottom half hung off the side of the bed.

Eren palmed over your thighs. He left kisses there, too, his lips so close to where you wanted him the most.

“Let me taste you.” His voice was a quiet plead. He pressed a kiss against your inner thigh, then another, with his eyes fluttering shut like he wanted to savor you. “Please.”

You’d lost your voice somewhere in your throat. You could only nod in response—a bit too eagerly, perhaps. Eren gleamed up at you. He clearly wanted to smirk but was smart enough not to risk it this time.

You’d felt only his breath at first. It quelled the chill bedroom air. Next, it was the very tip of his tongue. Pointed, it ran through you, painfully slow but still enough for you to suck in a breath between your teeth.

“Spread your legs wider for me.” You did as you were told, completely at his mercy. It must have pleased him because you swore you felt him grin against you as he praised, “Good girl.”

You made an embarrassing sound at that. One you didn’t expect. Eren surely didn’t expect it either, but it excited him, knowing how you were weak to his words, to his voice. To him.

With you now fully on display for him, he couldn’t resist burying his face into you, even if he had fully intended to tease you longer. His tongue flicked your clit, sending pulses of electricity shooting up your spine.

You shifted your hips, raising them to meet his mouth. His tongue was steady, never slowing once as he leaned into a rhythm you liked, that had your fingers laced in his hair and undoing his bun. With just a little more, angling and guiding his tongue to just the right spot, it was like you suddenly saw sparks of white behind your eyelids.

“Eren—ah,” you panted frantically, “right there.”

He had the flat of his tongue against your clit, lapping in tandem with your rocking hips until your thighs began shaking.

“I got you,” he said, wrapping his arms around your legs and locking you into place. “Just relax for me.”

Eren continued having you feverishly, filling the bedroom with a mixture of your wispy cries and groans of his own. It was as if he was just as desperate for you to come as you felt, worshipping every squeak and squirm he could get from you.

“I-I’m—”

His eyes meet yours. You looked breathless, your mouth hanging open in a vain attempt at pulling in tattered breaths. When he let go of your thighs, they dropped to his shoulders.

Not breaking his pace, his thumb replaced his tongue so he could ask, “You need more?”

You swallowed hard and nodded.

“You want my fingers?” His thumb left your clit. You mourned the loss only for him to trace a finger down your entrance before dipping it inside you.

“Oh, fuck.” You writhed in response. “Yes.”

He used two fingers this time, collecting his spit and your slick before pushing them inside you. There was little resistance as he worked his fingers in and out of you. He returned to tonguing your clit, giving it a few kitten licks before picking up right where he left off.

You were getting close, so close, and if time could allow for it, you would have stayed like that forever, just shy of becoming entirely undone.

There were many times, admittedly, when you imagined Eren having his way with you, wondering what it’d feel like for him to finger and fuck you. But never did you think he’d beg to have you like this, nor did you imagine the sight to absolutely ruin you.

Eren’s face flushed a blossomy pink, spanning across his cheeks. You were so wet; he was so wet. Soaked, actually, in your arousal—a mess you might have cared more about if you weren’t about to come.

His green eyes, darkened like you’d never seen before, found yours, and he moaned. He felt pathetic for it, but what had him feeling even more pathetic was how he couldn’t stop himself from shoving his boxers down his thighs. He took hold of himself, seeking any semblance of relief because you were possibly the hottest thing he’d ever seen. But he knew you’d look even better coming on his tongue.

You whimpered when you saw him fisting his cock, nice and fast. He was so hard for you, and you weren’t shy about staring. You couldn’t even fake it, too curious to see exactly how he liked it, watching him fuck his fist with quick breaks to give extra attention to his sensitive tip. You thought about how he’d fuck you, how he’d like it then, and it sent you over the edge.

Your cries came out choppy and strained until your voice cut out entirely. You sobbed silently, carelessly, rolling your hips over Eren’s tongue and using him. You wanted to drag out the feeling for as long as you could. By the end, you were quivering, exhausted, and could no longer keep your eyes open.

Eren had to stop pumping himself, or else he would have come from that alone. He sat back onto his calves, one of his hands palming over your thigh while the other soothed your clit, just to ease you back down. You looked like you needed it, all wrecked, legs limply spread for him, just like he hoped.

God, he annoyed himself for pretending he never wanted you because you—you were a dream.

The only thing that could wake him from such a dream was your voice.

“Eren?”

He loved it when you said his name.

You sat up to look at him properly, but it felt like there were a ton of bricks on your chest. Eren appeared quite the opposite, entirely unfazed. He had his cheek smushed against your thigh, staring unabashedly at the finger he lazily pushed back inside you. You jolted at the intrusion, still sensitive; he could tell by the way your muscles spasmed around his finger.

The feeling mesmerized him: you sucking him in for more. He didn’t even look at you when he replied, “Hm?”

You would’ve thought knowing his eyes were on you would embarrass you, but you were still so touchy from your orgasm that the winding feeling had already returned. It coiled in your stomach, begging to be snapped again.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Eren loved hearing that even more.

He finally looked at you then, and you imagined that if he were a dog, his ears would have perked up like you said the magic words.

“What was that?” he asked, more playfully than you expected. You didn’t like it, not with the grin he wore to match. “I couldn’t hear you. You were mumbling.”

“You heard me the first time.”

He ran his finger teasingly up the crease of your thigh. “Say it again.”

It tickled. You fussed, “Eren, come on—”

“No, I don’t think that was it. I think you said something else.”

“Just—” You sighed dramatically before giving in. “I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me, Eren.”

He beamed at you, proud of both you and himself. He grabbed his boxers, still sitting mid-thigh, and removed them entirely.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Eren stood up and didn’t give you the chance to respond before flipping you onto your stomach. You felt his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. His fingers skated lower, down to your bra before undoing its clasp. When you pushed yourself to your forearms, you felt your bra fall, its straps hanging loosely around your arms.

“You look so pretty like this,” he told you as he grabbed your hips, raising you to your knees. He stroked himself a few more times with one hand and smacked your ass with the other.

“Eren!” you yelped. “Roommates!”

“I thought I told you not to worry about them,” he said, punctuated with another smack.

The print of his hand still stung when you heard rustling behind you. You peered over your shoulder to see him tearing open a condom. He rolled it over his cock, and all the while, his eyes kept you—naked and with your ass in the air for him—pinned to the bed.

He flattened a hand against your lower back, putting an arch in it. With the other, he spread you, aligning the tip of his cock with your entrance.

Eren guided himself in more slowly than he wanted to, listening to you whine as you adjusted to his length. It was a bit of a stretch, but it was easy enough for him to push inside, having already prepped you with his fingers, leaving you aching for him to fill you with more.

When his pelvis was flush against you, he felt your walls flutter around him, squeezing his cock so perfectly he thought you must be made for him. A groan bubbled in his throat, low enough that it was nearly a growl. The sound made your heart skip, right between your lungs, so you clenched again to encourage another.

“You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that,” Eren hissed.

“Doing what?” you asked innocently. Then you did it again.

Despite the warning, he didn’t protest it. Instead, he started moving, thrusting into you leisurely. He was self-indulgent about it too, spreading you with his hands so he could admire how well your cunt looked with his cock in it.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he muttered, quiet enough that it was as if he were talking to himself. “So fucking good.”

“Eren.” The whine in your voice drove him crazy.

His hands, large and demanding, curved over your hips. The blunt end of his nails dug into the fat of them as he pulled you back to meet every snap of his hips. The indecent smacking of skin-on-skin bounced off the bedroom walls. You didn’t complain this time, only let your head drop between your shoulders. Your eyes screwed shut as you became lost in the throes of pleasure all over again.

“Eren,” you cried again.

He didn’t stop fucking you to ask, “What is it?”

He folded over you, his hand snaking up to your neck and taking hold of your chin. He turned your face to look at him, so he could see what you wanted. You couldn’t form anything other than wimpy chants of ah, ah, ah, sounding mangled as he squished your cheeks.

“Tell me how you want it.”

His words alone made you bite back a moan.

Finally, you managed to say, “Harder.”

Eren smiled, all slack-jawed and toothy. You would have found it irresistible, yet totally ill-fitting if you could have seen it. But how else was he to react?

He placed a kiss on the back of your neck, then another on your shoulder. It was unexpectedly doting, until you felt his fingers curve around your throat. Though you knew what was coming, you still squealed when he hoisted you upright, with your back sealed against his chest.

Eren held you there, fucking up into you, harder, like you asked him. Your flimsy bra flopped around your arms with each of his thrusts. He groped at your breast, taking your nipple between his fingers, rolling and pinching at it until you were mewling.

He continued taking you as if you’d always been his, and you let him have you. You let him use you like you only existed for his pleasure, with your head feeling heavy as it lolled back against him.

But you were so much more than that, and Eren was determined to make you come again. He wanted to feel it.

“Touch yourself,” Eren breathed, right into your ear. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. “I want to hear you when you come this time.”

Your hand slithered between your legs. The very tips of your fingers bumped into Eren’s cock as you got yourself off. Legs wavering at the added pressure, you were practically vibrating when you came, your heart pounding in your ears. There was no doubt he heard you this time around.

It was difficult to remain upright. You fell from Eren’s hold, landing on the bed forcefully with him toppling right over you. You were still riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm as he fucked you into the mattress, and it had your thighs squeezing together so nicely for him.

“I’m—ah, fuck—I’m close,” Eren grunted.

It surprised you when he pulled out, but it didn’t take long before you realized he was rolling you onto your back. Eren manhandled you like you were weightless; he had your arms tossed above your head, pinned in place with a single hand around your wrist. He pushed back inside you, hard and fast, with a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.

“I need to see you.”

Your stomach flipped at his words like they were poetry. Fuck. He had you so irrevocably wrapped around his finger. And maybe you were merely lovelorn and looking for something that wasn’t there, but you swore he looked as though he were just as ensnared as you.

Your mouth sought out his in a sloppy kiss. It was suckling lips and colliding teeth, smothered grunts and groans as you ground against one another, but you didn’t care; you enjoyed every messy, frantic minute of it.

You wanted to touch him, wriggling until he released his hold on your wrists. You took his face between your hands. His eyes were moony and heavy-lidded and had you swooning.

“Fuck, Eren—I want you to come,” you gasped.

Easy enough.

He came hard. As perverted as it sounded, you wished you had a camera. You wanted to remember how his eyes snapped shut, to record every sound. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hips stuttering against you as if he could reach any deeper.

His breath was hot against your already sweltering skin. It was hard to breathe, especially under his weight, but you wanted to hold him for a little longer.

Neither of you spoke for a while. You didn’t realize you’d been grazing your fingers up and down the back of his neck until he lifted himself off you. He let his gaze linger on your face, like he wanted one last look, then nudged his nose against yours before getting up.

You laid still, only watching while Eren straightened out and disposed of the condom. Your legs felt too soft and lazy to move, so you only let your eyes follow him as he stepped into a pair of sweatpants.

"The invitation to stay the night still stands, right?” you lightly sassed.

“No, I was actually going to call you an Uber home.” Eren rolled his eyes. “Of course it does. What kind of guy do you think I am?”

You giggled as you pushed yourself up. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Down the hallway, last door on the right.” He took one look at you, then started digging around in his dresser. He tossed something at you, aiming it at your head by the looks of it. You snatched it just in time. It was one of his T-shirts. “You can wear that.”

You held it by the sleeves, inspecting it. “Is that weird?”

“It wasn’t until you asked that.”

You pulled the tee over your head before adjusting it. Your underwear came next, but you felt more hesitant about the jeans.

Eren noticed, assuring you, “They’re sleeping, I promise,” as he put on a shirt of his own. “Just be quick.”

“Okay.” You left, but poked your head back in to say, “I’m leaving the door cracked so I know which room is yours.”

He laughed. “All right.”

You followed his instructions, even trying to be quick about it, too. You peed, washed your hands, and only stared at your bruising collarbone for ten seconds before rushing back down the hall.

Eren was in bed when he saw the door swing open. “Look at you, Ms. C-plus, not getting lost.”

You pulled a face. “Whatever, Brian.”

Right on cue, he complained, “It was one time.” You mouthed it along with him.

For whatever reason, you didn’t crawl into bed with him right away. You felt a bit like a deer in headlights, blinking at Eren as you waited for something. You didn’t know what. He looked sleepy, with his hair still unkempt from your fingers. Seeing him like this, with you dressed in his shirt, about to curl up under his sheets—were you supposed to go along with this like it was normal?

When you finally thought of something to say, Eren cut in first. “You can’t seriously try to take the couch after that.”

That was exactly what you were about to do. He chuckled, knowing he was right by the purse of your lips. He lifted the blanket for you—once again, like this was entirely normal for you—and said, “Get over here already. I’m cold.”

Eren was extremely difficult to say no to, but you knew that already. You got into his bed with no contest and let him lay the comforter over you.

Either his pillows were just that soft or you felt that exhausted because your eyes went heavy almost immediately. Eren reached over you to turn out the light, but let his arm fall on top of you. He hugged your waist, not hesitating to pull you into him.

He nuzzled into the back of your neck, pulling a giggle from you. “Are you always this clingy after sex?”

Eren hummed an affirmative sound, tickling you again.He was most definitely never this clingy after sex. But there was no way he could keep his hands to himself, not with how good you looked in his shirt, just barely long enough to cover anything. Maybe his intentions in lending you a shirt weren’t entirely pure—so sue him. You wearing his clothes was a sight he could get used to. One he had a feeling he’d get to see much more often.

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren fluff #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader

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mystellenia · 25 days

Text

ellie with a clumsy gf ୨ৎ

summary: how ellie cares for her clumsy girlfriend

content: nothing thats nsfw!! just ellie being a cutie concerned gf

notes: answer to this req!! SHES SO PUPU BABYGIRL IN THAT PIC I WANNA BITE HER JFWIBFJWKRJR. she's actually so beautiful i can't. entirely unrelated: idk how i feel about this... but i’m trying not to be like EW I HATE THIS FUCK THIS ITS SO BAD. like i dont even feel like that but we already know how i feel about this formatting. its growing on me tho

(wc 0.39k) so short i know guys i gotta dip my feet

constantly laughing but also concerned at how you manage to trip and bump and bruise yourself up on literal air

in apocalypse au, she's always been very aware of her surroundings bc of patrol and combat and stuff so she tries to keep you out of the way of things that she knows you'll bump into

always has an ice pack chilled and ready to go in the freezer in case you bump yourself real hard and it's sore because ice helps bumps not bruise right when you get them (looking at you guys clumsy ladies write that one down)

always warns you about things right as they're happening since you get into things SO FAST

like just as you're bumping into something or dropping an item she's blurting out, "wait! there's- a shirt on the floor"/"remember- that the washing machine door is open"/"baby, you're gonna drop that- just... like you did just now. you okay?"

always asks what you did to get a new bruise. she'll notice a new one and joke, "oh, what did you do this time?" and you'll respond, "i may have walked into the dishwasher while the door was down... but this one doesn't hurt that bad 😁" it's become like a little game

she's become sooo desensitized to any bump or bang sound in the house bc she knows its just you. not to say she doesn't care about you getting hurt--she immediately throws out a "you good?!" or "you need me?"--she just knows you know what to do: ice pack or heat compress. it's routine now.

read that low vitamin c levels make you bruise easily, so always has vitamin c rich snacks stocked up. oranges and strawberries and other fruits, always ready!

she's so stupid in love that she'll cut the fruits up into hearts or try nd make the most simple little animals with them from some mother of 3's tutorial on instagram reels and genuinely gets upset when she can't recreate them.

^ like you notice her absolutely maiming some apples and ask, "ummm why are you slicing and dicing that poor apple?" and she'll mumble, "it's supposed to be a stupid crab."

and for my ladies with darker skin where bruises aren't as visible or even just pale skin that just doesn't bruise easily, she's still just as concerned. and since there is no visible warning of a sore spot, she's hurriedly apologizing after pressing on a sore spot or laying on a tender patch.

@abbysbug @picklesarenice69

hello to my clitter critters. soooooooo erm sorry about going like basically inactive for like 2 weeks i got into the fight of a lifetime with my mother 😊 we still beefing 😊 dw tho when she's old and wrinkly i’ll have power of attorney and trust the cord WILL be plugged.

like i’m joking but as of now that bitch is an opp fr

but anywhoooo i’m back. and my dinosaur of a laptop had a health scare and i thought i was gonna have to plan a funeral for her but she went to the doctor (apple store) and she's all better. idk how it still works so well now bc my mom got this when obama was still president 😆 don't y'all worry tho this motherboard does nothing but purr we chillin (the fan turns on whenever there are too many graphics moving)

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eddiethehunted · 5 months

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hey y'all here's yet another "i'll probably never finish this" snippet — this one's considerably longer (near 3k words!) so maybe it's okay <3

post-vecna, fwb, idiot4idiot, you know how it is. trans eddie but it’s not really relevant to this piece lol

18+ for sexual themes and also one usage of the f slur

——————————

Eddie knows he's acting weird—or, weirder than usual—but he can't muster up the energy to care.

He's not really talking, sitting off to the side and kind of just listening in. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hang out with anyone, or whatever—it’s that he doesn’t think he can handle hanging out with Steve.

He's successfully avoided Steve all night and he plans on keeping it that way. That is, of course, until Robin, tipsy and warm and happy from the beers she's been crushing all night, gets up and pulls Steve over to the swing chair with them.

Eddie considers fleeing while she’s not sitting on his knee forcing him to stay there, but he’s not quick enough. She flops back down and brings Steve with her, giggling as he stumbles and bitches and complains about it, making the chair swing back and forth and jostle them all together in a way that would normally have Eddie laughing with her.

Instead, all he can do is stare beyond Nancy’s head, rolling his beer between his hands distractedly and wishing the alcohol would hit him even half as hard as it’s hitting Robin. Maybe then he wouldn’t want to fucking bash his head into the wall right now.

He can see Nancy giving him a weird, curious stare, and look, he likes Nancy, really. She’s cool and badass and he’s kind of scared of her, which is awesome. But he’s not about to talk to Steve’s ex about this fucked up friends-with-benefits to maybe-not-even-friends-anymore-and-definitely-without-benefits trainwreck he’s gotten himself into.

Robin sandwiches herself in between them, a sharp elbow digging uncomfortably into Eddie's ribs. Eddie is being absolutely assaulted by Steve's cologne and presence and warmth and he's not okay. His heart feels like it's going to explode and he wants to leave so fucking bad.

Robin starts rambling about graduation and college to Nancy. Eddie tunes out quick, because Steve's arm is flung over the back of the chair and he's rubbing these distracting little circles on Eddie's shoulder, through his shirt. He can feel Steve's eyes burning holes into the side of his face, over Robin's head.

Steve's touch is distracting normally, but even more so now because it's been almost three weeks since Eddie has seen him, and even longer since he's touched him. The last time they were this close, he'd had Steve climbing into his lap, panting and grinding on him and kissing him like he was trying to steal the air out of his lungs. Whispering Eddie’s name like a prayer between breathy little whines as if it fucking meant something.

The painful throbbing in his chest is nearly as bad as the uncomfortable ache between his legs, and he almost forgets that he's trying to distance himself when he feels Steve shift closer. Robin's leaning forward to talk to Nancy, and that leaves plenty of room behind her for Steve's hand to move, to curl into the hair at the nape of Eddie's neck. Plenty of room for Steve to lean into his space and god, Eddie is having a really hard time keeping a grip on his self-control because all he wants to do right now is pull Steve into the bathroom and fucking get on his knees and make it so that he's the only one Steve will ever want.

“Been a while,” Steve says conversationally. Casually. Eddie wants to fucking kick him.

“Uh-huh,” he replies, not willing to give Steve more than that. It earns him a huff, and Eddie doesn’t have to look to see that Steve’s rolling his eyes at him.

His voice is quiet and trickles down Eddie's spine when he says, "You've been avoiding me."

Eddie can't think of a good response, his voice sticking in his throat, his brain full of static. He finally swallows and vaguely says, "You think so?"

Steve's hand squeezes the back of his neck and every single nerve in Eddie's body lights up. Robin is right there. Like, she's half-sitting on Eddie's thigh. This is—its a really bad fucking time for Steve to be touching him.

"Why?" Steve asks him. He sounds hurt, but also a bit angry, and that shouldn't turn Eddie on but it really, really does.

He likes that Steve's hurting. No, really, he does. Because at least it's not just him. (He's never claimed to be a nice fucking person, okay? He knows he's a bit of a selfish asshole, and he's fine with that.)

He's not having this conversation while Robin is sitting on top of both of them, so he jerks away from Steve and gets up, not paying any attention to Robin's indignant shout as he storms into her house. He's been here enough times that he knows the way to the bathroom even with all the lights off, but he doesn't have the chance to shut the door before there's a foot blocking it.

Steve pushes in, looking pissed, and so, so hot. Eddie's knees feel like jelly and his stomach squirms like he's going to be sick. Emotional confrontation is like, the actual fucking worst, and there's Steve, angry and hurt and crowding him against the counter in Robin's bathroom, looking him dead in the eyes.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

His hands are on either side of Eddie's hips and their faces are so close Eddie could count his eyelashes if he tried hard enough. His cheeks are burning, his voice stuck in his throat, and he's annoyed because Steve knows that being pinned like this gets Eddie hot, and that's not fucking fair.

"I'm not," Eddie lies through his teeth. "I've just been busy—"

Steve snorts, cutting him off with a mean laugh. "Yeah, real busy, I bet. Must be hard work pretending I don't fucking exist."

Eddie is like, five seconds away from either punching Steve or kissing him. He hates that this is doing something for him right now, hates how hot Steve is when he's mad.

"Get off of me," he snaps, but it doesn't sound convincing. Steve's gaze drops to his mouth, just for a second, before it flicks back up.

"Did I do something?" he asks desperately, looks at Eddie with those big, dark eyes. Eddie presses his lips together firmly, biting the insides of them, because if Steve keeps looking at him like that Eddie's gonna let him bend him over this goddamn countertop. Steve seems to take his silence as confirmation, and makes a quiet, sad sound.

"You can tell me, Eddie," he says, a bit softer, like some of the anger has evaporated out of him. "I miss you."

That hurts.

Eddie wants to throw up. "Don't say that to me."

Steve frowns. "Why not? What, I can't miss you? Can't wonder what the fuck I did to piss you off so bad that you won't even look at me?" He backs off, a bit, enough for Eddie to breathe, crossing his arms tight across his chest. "One day you're shoving my dick down your throat and the next you're acting like you hate me. Kinda makes a guy wonder what happened."

"I don't—hate you," Eddie manages, nearly choking on his words because he doesn't want to say them, but the sad, hurt eyes Steve's giving him pull them from out of his chest. "I'm not even—I'm not even fucking mad at you, Steve. I'm not—this is so stupid." He rubs a hand over his face. “I just… I can't keep doing this shit. This—whatever it is.” He gestures vaguely between them. “Hooking up. Whatever."

Steve's shoulders slump forward. He moves back, until they're not touching at all and there's a few feet between them. He sounds exasperated and frustrated when he says, "Okay, so don't! You could've just told me you didn't want to fuck around anymore. I’m not gonna be mad or something. Jesus, Eddie, you can like, talk to me. I give a shit about being friends more than, like, getting some ass or whatever.”

Steve's not getting it, which is maybe for the best, but the distance between them makes Eddie want to pull his hair out. "No, I mean—" He can't help but reach out, tugging Steve a little closer by the loop of his jeans, which makes him flush so pretty. “I don't wanna stop."

"So...don't?" Steve says slowly, warily. One warm hand wraps around Eddie's arm, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed. "We can keep... I dunno, doing whatever. Whatever you want. Even just… hanging out. Or watching a movie, or—uh, yeah, whatever.” He swallows, glances down at Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie’s sure he knows just what Steve’s thinking about.

He can't help but laugh, because he's sure that what he really wants is not within the realm of what Steve is okay with. Sex is fun, but—god, Eddie wants to be allowed to love him. He’s already opened himself up more to Steve than anyone else. Steve already knows things about him that nobody else does, except his uncle. It’d been so easy to fall in love with him.

"That's the thing. I don't think we're on the same page."

Steve looks so confused that it would be funny if Eddie wasn’t on the verge of spilling his guts, of throwing up his heart all over Steve right now.

“I need you to elaborate, man,” Steve says. “‘Cause you’re giving some crazy mixed signals right now.”

“I don’t want to just keep hooking up with you. I know this all started just as fun and it is fun, but it’s driving me crazy,” Eddie lets out a frantic little laugh, feels like he’s going to start hyperventilating, but he’s started now and can’t stop, “I’m so into you it’s insane, Steve. Like, I like you. So fucking much. So much it makes me want to rip my hair out or something. I can’t keep doing this knowing it doesn’t mean the same thing to you and I can’t keep pretending that the thought of you with someone else doesn’t make me want to die. Okay? I can’t. It—it hurts and it fucking sucks and I can't do it anymore.”

His voice is shaking by the end of it, and he knows by the burning feeling in his eyes and nose that he’s about to start crying. Because this is it—this is what he’s been dreading, all this time: the moment that the other shoe drops, the moment that Steve rejects him. He’s a nice guy, he’ll do it kindly, let Eddie down gently, but that’ll hurt more. Eddie needs Steve to like, punch him in the face and call him a fag, or something. He can’t handle a sweet, gentle, let’s stay friends forever, it’ll all be okay rejection.

Instead of the bright snap of pain he’s hoping for, he feels Steve’s hands slide up the sides of his neck, almost like he does when Eddie’s down on his knees for him. It’s much softer, now, Steve’s thumbs stroking just under his eyes to wipe away the tears that he can’t stop from falling.

It’s too much.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut tight, shaking his head in frantic, jerky movements as his tears just keep coming. He wants to yell at Steve, to tell him to leave and let him lick his wounds in fucking peace, but he can’t make the words come out. All he can do is suck in another sticky, wet breath.

It tears out of his chest as a sob and Steve swears under his breath.

“Hey,” he breathes. He moves Eddie’s hair out of his face gently, tucking it behind his ears. Any traces of anger are gone from his voice now, and it’s soft, quiet, like he's talking to a frightened animal. “Eddie, hey. Shit, I’m sorry. Can you look at me?”

Eddie doesn’t want to, but he’s never been good at saying no to Steve. He forces his eyes open, blinking away the tears that blur Steve’s pretty face.

“If you’re gonna reject me just do it,” he says miserably. His voice feels thick as it comes up his throat. “I can take it, man.”

Actually, he’s pretty sure he’ll collapse to the ground sobbing and maybe even dry heave or throw up the second he’s alone, but Steve doesn’t have to know that.

“I’m not—” Steve huffs out a breath, something like a laugh, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Eddie, I’m not rejecting you. I’m—I’m just kind of in shock.”

Eddie stares at Steve with watery eyes. “In shock?” he bites out. “Yeah, dude, that kinda happens when your friend confesses he has big disgusting gay feelings for you.”

“No! Not like—not in a bad way,” Steve clarifies. He has the most adorable pink flush on his cheeks, a frustrated little crease between his brows as he tries to find the words for what he’s so clearly hurting to say. “I’ve been into you for months. I honestly thought you were avoiding me these past few weeks ‘cause you could tell. I’m not, like,” he heaves a sigh, runs a nervous hand through his hair, “good at being subtle, man. I thought you were rejecting me.”

Eddie has no clue what kind of face he’s making right now, but he feels a little bit like he’s floating suddenly. Like he’s just missed the last step at the bottom of a staircase, a heavy, stony pang in his chest, his breath kind of stuck somewhere around his diaphragm. It’s almost like how it felt to flip upside down, weightless, as he climbed through the gate last spring, but only slightly less terrifying.

“I haven’t been with anyone else since the first time we hooked up,” Steve admits, and Eddie's mouth falls open, because that was nearly a year ago. “I know we were supposed to be casual, but it… was never casual for me.” His face is a little redder now, but he doesn't break eye contact. It makes Eddie want to squirm. “I shouldn’t have lied and said I didn’t want more. I wanted you. When we—” He swallows and Eddie can't help but glance down to watch the way his throat bobs, wants to sink his teeth into it. "When we’re together, you know, it’s… it’s all I ever think about. Fuck, I think about you all the time. I feel like I'm going insane.” He groans, letting his forehead fall forward onto Eddie’s shoulder. “I feel like I’m not doing a great job here.”

Steve thinks about him. Steve fucking wants him. Eddie is literally going to pass out or something.

“No,” he breathes, because this can’t be real, he has to be hallucinating or something, “no, you’re—this is really good. Keep going.”

Steve sighs like he’s frustrated with himself, his breath warm against Eddie’s shirt. “What I’m trying to say is that I like you too, Eddie. A lot. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t, I’m just—kind of not great at this shit.”

Eddie really, really wants to pinch himself, but he can’t fucking move as Steve’s words sink into his bones.

“You like me,” he croaks out. His hands curl into fists in the front of Steve’s shirt. He probably looks a fucking mess right now with tears and maybe snot all over his face but he can’t think about that, not when Steve is so close. “You actually like me? Like, not—not just fucking me?”

“I mean, I do like doing that,” Steve says, lifting his head with a ridiculous grin and eyebrow waggle that makes Eddie feel hot all over. He groans and shoves Steve’s face away half-heartedly, and Steve laughs, turns his head to press a kiss to Eddie’s palm.

Eddie just about melts into a puddle on the floor. God, the Steve Harrington charm. Steve’s smile turns a little soft.

“But yeah,” he says, leaning into Eddie’s hand. “I’m kinda crazy about you, man.”

Eddie needs to make sure he's not insane. "Like, you wanna cuddle me and shit? Fuckin’… bake me a cake?”

Oh god, what do people in relationships even do? Is that even what Steve’s gunning for here?

Steve's clearly trying not to laugh. "I mean, I can make you a cake if you want, but I'm not that great at baking. I always put too much flour and it turns out so bad, and this one time I accidentally put salt instead of sugar and Robin still doesn't shut up about it. I can make a pretty solid lasagna, though, if you want—”

"Oh my god," Eddie says, because he's definitely insane, and also because the idea of Steve in the kitchen making him a lasagna like some kind of little housewife is going to make him act fucking stupid, "shut up."

He really does pinch himself, then, and all it does is hurt. Steve’s lips quirk up again, and he steps a little closer, until it would be so easy for Eddie to tilt his head a bit and move in for a kiss. He goes a little cross-eyed trying to keep looking at Steve, trying to make sure this is still real, that this isn’t some Vecna shit and Steve’s about to turn into some kind of fucked up monster and start, like, eating him or something.

“Did you just pinch yourself?” Steve asks, grinning so wide Eddie can almost taste it.

“No,” Eddie lies.

“That’s so cute."

Eddie makes a weird, strangled sound, and it’s the most humiliating little noise, one he didn’t even know he was capable of making. He doesn’t have a chance to be embarrassed about it, though, because Steve moves so their lips are just barely apart.

“Can I kiss you now? I really want to.” Their noses touch. “I know it’s not the first time, but… I wanna kiss you.”

“Like in a gay way?” Eddie blurts, like an idiot.

Steve’s eyes crinkle up a bit when he laughs. “Yeah, dude. In a gay way. I mean, I kinda feel like me licking my jizz out of your mouth that one time was already pretty gay, but yeah. I wanna kiss you for real. If that’s okay.”

#steddie #teehee #posting this then LOGGING OFF BC I AM SCARED OF EVERYONE #desperately craving attention while being so so so scared of you all

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iheartamberfreeman · 4 months

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You are the best thing that's ever been mine

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!PoseidonCabin!Reader

summary: You and Clarisse have been anonymous pen pals and when identities are revealed it all goes south

warnings: swearing, slight angst, fluff, Clarisse is kinda a bitch at first, not proof read

a/n: I hope this is what you wanted! I added a little twist to it, I hope that's ok. I may have self projected just a bit, the request didn't say a specific cabin so l put mine. Yes I'm a cabin 3 girlie. I had to write in the catradora line, it would’ve bothered me if I didn't take the opportunity. Best wing girl award goes to… Amaris! Amaris is in cabin 6 aka Athena btw. I actually had a lot of fun writing Amaris and Y/n's friendship hehe. Also if you’d like to listen to the song while reading there’s a link below :)

Mine by Taylor Swift

You and Clarisse have been anonymous pen pals for a couple months now. You accidentally left a note you had written where you talked about your favorite book which coincidentally was Clarisse's too and ever since you both have been leaving notes for each on the very same spot every day, every few days or even every week. You don't like Clarisse because she bullies other campers and Clarisse doesn't like you because you're one of the only people who have actually stood up to her, at least, that’s what she tells herself.

You watch as Clarisse shoved Percy then proceeded to push him on the floor with a frown. You walk up to Clarisse after you watched the girl walk away from Percy, "Leave the new kid alone princess. Quit being a bitch," You hiss as you cross your arms. Clarisse's brows furrow, "Did you just call me a bitch?" She takes a threatening step towards you, "Why don't you come closer and say that again?" Her tone is challenging.

You stepped closer to the girl and looked up at Clarisse, "I said quit being a bitch princess.” You said the word ‘princess’ in the same mocking tone you always did. Clarisse's eyes flash with anger and she lunges forward, grabbing your shirt and pulling you close so your faces are inches apart. You gave her a smug smile before your smile shifted into a smirk and ignored the hammering of your heart, "What? You gonna kiss me or something princess?" You teased.

A scowl settles on Clarisse's features when she feels her cheeks flush and she roughly shoves you away from her, "You're so fucking infuriating" She spits. You give her another smug smile as you shrug, "I try" then you turn around and leave. Clarisse watches you go with a mix of frustration and satisfaction. She turns around, muttering under her breath about you before heading back to her cabin.

The next day, you walked around the library and went to grab the note in your favorite book but before you could, Clarisse snatched the book from you. Her eyes are wide and she looks nervous like she’s hiding something. "What are you doing?" Clarisse demands, holding the book against her chest protectively. "Why does it matter Clarisse?" You said, rolling your eyes before reaching out towards the book, "Give me the book."

"No." Clarisse crosses her arms over the book, "You’re just trying to sneak a peek at my notes." She hisses, taking a step closer to you as her eyes narrowed. You looked at the Ares girl with wide eyes like you had just seen a ghost, "Your notes?..." You asked softly. Clarisse finally lets out a small sigh, her eyes still narrowed as she watches you, "Yeah, my notes." She nods, "Why are you so interested in them anyways?" Her brow furrows in confusion.

"Clarisse... I'm the one who’s been writing you," You replied softly, thinking about everything you’ve talked about and how sweet the Ares girl was in contrast to her normal demeanor. Clarisse's eyes widened in surprise, and she took a step back, "What?" She stammers, looking at you like you've grown another head. She glances down at the book in her arms, then back up to you, "You've... been writing me?"

You nod, "I mean if you've been writing notes and leaving them in that book then yes," You point to the book in Clarisse's arms. Clarisse looks at the book then back up to you, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Oh," She mutters, running her fingers through her hair, seemingly at a loss for words. She looks conflicted about the whole thing before she decides to do what she does best in these type of situations, run. After a moment, Clarisse clears her throat, "I have to go," then she shoves the book in your hands before quickly taking her leave.

You tried to find Clarisse to talk to her but you couldn't find the girl anywhere. You’d catch a glimpse of her at times but the minute you tried to walk over to her, she's gone. After a while of the same dance, you’ve realized she’s been avoiding you and it was driving you crazy. All you can think about is how sweet the girl was to you when you both didn't know who the other was. You always found the Ares girl attractive and had a little crush on her but that little crush grew into something bigger once you realized that she was the one you were writing the whole time.

You’re currently with your best friend, Amaris, laying in her bed as you talk. "Am, I can't stop thinking about her," You sighed. Amaris looks at you, a small smile playing on her lips. "You mean the girl who's been avoiding you for two weeks?" She teases gently. "Well, maybe it's time to confront her then." You look at Amaris with wide eyes, "That's like the worst advice you could give me when it comes to Clarisse," You mumble, "Who knows how she'll react.” Amaris shrugs, propping her chin on her hand. "So you can keep stewing in uncertainty, or you can take the plunge and see what happens. Either way, you're not going to stop thinking about her until you try."

You look at Amaris, still uncertain. "What would I even say to her?" Amaris grins mischievously, "How about ‘I know you’ve been avoiding me for a while, but I can't stop thinking about you.' Something like that should get her attention." You laugh softly, "Yeah that could get her attention I guess. Maybe a fist to the face too if she's generous enough." “Well, you know what they say, 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained'." Amaris winks, clearly enjoying teasing you. "And hey, maybe she'll surprise you. You never know with her." You nod, "I'll try to talk to her tonight at the bonfire."

"Good luck. You're gonna need it," Amaris says playfully. "Don't forget to let me know how it goes." You blew a kiss to Amaris, "Thanks. I will Am," then you hug her before leaving the Athena cabin. With a smile, Amaris watches as you leave. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, knowing that things might get interesting tonight.

That night, you muster up all the courage you can and head to the bonfire. The air is filled with laughter and music as campers gather around, enjoying each others company. As you approach the bonfire, you see Amaris chatting with a group of other campers. She notices you and gives you a small wave before turning back to her friends. Taking a deep breath, you make your way over to her. You put your hand on Amaris' shoulder and smile, "Hey Am." Amaris turns to look at you, her face softening into a warm smile. "Hey Y/n," she replies, gesturing for you to join the group.

You smile as you greet Amaris' friends before looking back at her, "Girl, who are you trying to impress today?" You tease, "You look hot." Amaris rolls her eyes, but can't help but smile as she replies, "I always look good babes and you look pretty damn hot yourself." She nudges you gently, a mischievous glint in her eye. You grin, gently nudging the girl back, "Flattery will get you no where Am." Amaris raises an eyebrow at you, clearly enjoying the playful banter between the two of you. "Well then," she says with a grin, "Maybe I should start thinking about upping the ante."

You look at Amaris, giving her a playful apologetic look. "Sorry babes, my heart belongs to another." Amaris laughs lightly, the sound filling the air. "Ah yes, I remember hearing about that certain someone." She teases. "Have you seen her?" You shake your head, "Not yet. Have you?" Amaris shrugs her shoulders, "I saw her head to the bathroom with some of the Ares kids. I think she went to give the new kid their welcome gift." You frown at that, “You think she’d learn her lesson after Percy.” "You gonna go find your knight in shining armor?" Amaris says with a mischievous grin.

You sigh softly, "Yeah, I might go look for her in a bit." Amaris smiles warmly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well remember, when you do, don’t forget to let me know. l'd love to hear all about it." She takes a sip of her drink and adds casually, "Good luck." You nod, "I know, I know. Thanks Am." Amaris waves her hand dismissively, a small smile playing on her lips. "Always," She says before gently nudging you and gesturing at something, "The princess has arrived." You turn to look at what Amaris gestured to and see Clarisse. Your heart skips a beat as you take in how beautiful the girl looks.

Clarisse wore a red crop top and black cargo pants. You couldn’t help but think the girl looked absolutely breathtaking, she always did. Amaris looks at you with a smug grin, "Careful lovergirl, you might start drooling," She teases. You turn to look at Amaris, blushing softly as you roll your eyes, "Shut up." Amaris bursts out laughing, shaking her head at you playfully. "All right, all right," She chuckles, taking another sip of her drink. "Go talk to your princess then." You look at Amaris, uncertain, "I'm beginning to think this is a bad idea Am. What if she makes fun of me?"

Amaris rolls her eyes, "And how is that different from any other day? Just go talk to her." You nod and take a deep breath, walking over to Clarisse before you can change your mind again, "Hey princess." Despite all the other times you've called her princess, this one came out soft, not mocking like it usually does. Clarisse sighs before looking up at you with a raised eyebrow, "What do you want?" She asks bluntly. "You," You reply casually before blushing when you realize what you said. "I mean you cause I want to talk to you," You stutter out.

Clarisse can't help but smirk at your blush and stuttering. "Well, aren't you sweet?" She says sarcastically. "I don't want to talk to you." You frown, slightly hurt by her words, "Just answer one question and I'll leave you alone. Please." Clarisse narrows her eyes at you, "What's the question?" She asks warily. "Why have you been avoiding me?" You ask softly. Clarisse sighs again, clearly not expecting that question. She shrugs lightly, trying to play it off casually. "I wasn't avoiding you. Just, you know... busy training."

"Bullshit," You reply. "Every time I see you and try to talk to you, you disappear." Clarisse rolls her eyes. "Look, I don't want to talk about it. So just leave me alone." She says firmly, turning away from you. You frown, "Clarisse just tell me the truth.” "The truth? Fine," Clarisse snaps, turning back to face you with fire in her eyes. "I was avoiding you because I'm not interested in some pathetic little crush you have on me," She shouts, the words coming out harsher than she intended. You felt your heart shatter and tears well up in your eyes.

Clarisse's eyes widen and she internally winces at the sight of you trying to hold back tears. For a moment, she feels a pang of guilt, but quickly pushes it aside. You look around, feeling eyes on you before looking back at Clarisse. "Ok… got it. I’ll leave you alone" and with that you walk away from the Ares girl. You kept walking even as you heard Amaris call out for you and left the bonfire. Clarisse's eyes narrow at Amaris, she felt a pang of jealousy course through her which changed to satisfaction as she watched you ignore her and continue walking. Amaris turns to Clarisse and walks over to her, "What the fuck did you say to her?" She said, glaring at the Ares girl.

Clarisse shrugs nonchalantly. "I told her to leave me alone," she explains. "I'm clearly not interested in being friends with her." She takes a sip of her drink, unfazed by Amaris' glare. Amaris rolls her eyes, "Me and you both know that's total bullshit La Rue," she spat before adding, "I've seen the way you look at her, even before you realized she was the one writing you." Clarisse's expression becomes cold and defensive. "What are you talking about?" she asks sharply. "I don't look at her like anything." She steps closer to Amaris, their eyes locked in a fierce stare down.

Amaris looks up at Clarisse, seething at her. "Cut the shit Clarisse. I know you like her, it's so obvious. You stare at her as if you were in love with her." A small spark of irritation flashes in Clarisse's eyes. She's not used to people seeing through her. "Fine," she says through gritted teeth. "If you must know, yes, I do have feelings for her." "You two are fucking stupid. You don't want to admit you like her, she can't and won't believe you like her no matter how many times I tell her," Amaris adds. "Stop being a fucking jackass and go find her. Y/n is one of the sweetest girls I know and she’s madly in love with you. You'd be fucking dumb as fuck to pass up the opportunity to be with a girl as amazing as her."

Clarisse is taken aback by Amaris' words. She can't deny that she feels something for you but she's not used to expressing her emotions in such a vulnerable way. "You're right," she says, taking a deep breath. Amaris grins, "Of course I'm right, I'm always right. Now get the fuck out of here. Y/n's probably by the river near cabin 3." Nodding, Clarisse heads out towards the river, her heart pounding in anticipation. She's nervous but determined to express her feelings to you. After a brief walk, Clarisse spots you sitting by the river, you head bowed as you dangle your feet in the water. Clarisse approaches cautiously, clearing her throat to get your attention.

You turn around to face Clarisse with a tear stained face, your eyes widening when you realize it's the Ares girl. Clarisse's heart sinks at the sight of you. She knows she's the reason for your pain, and it hurts her deeply. "Y/n," Clarisse says softly, taking a seat next to you on the riverbank. "I just wanted to apologize for earlier." She swallows hard, feeling her cheeks redden a bit. "I... I might have been a bit harsh with you." You look at Clarisse, giving her an unimpressed look. "Oh you think?" You snap sarcastically. Clarisse internally winces at your harsh tone, but she understands your anger. "I guess I deserved that," she says, hanging her head in shame. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have treated you like that."

You look away from her and towards the river, thinking for a moment before turning back to Clarisse. "Gonna have to come up with something better than that." Clarisse takes a deep breath, gathering her courage. "Y/n, I'm really sorry for how I acted earlier," she says, looking into your eyes earnestly. "I was wrong to treat you that way. You mean a lot to me and I hope you'll give me another chance to make it up to you." "You know it's funny cause Amaris would tell me you liked me back all the time but I never wanted to confess because I knew there was no way l'd ever have a chance with you. I guess I was right," You said as you wiped tears off your face.

Clarisse frowns, Amaris told her this but hearing it from you somehow made it worse. How could you believe you'd never have a chance with her? "But you do have a chance Y/n," she replied, adding, "Don't you get it? I love you. I've always have." You look at Clarisse with wide eyes, "Then why did you avoid me like I was the plague? Why didn't you say that back at the bonfire?" You ask softly, like you’re scared that you might scare the Ares girl away. Clarisse swallows hard as she avoided your gaze. "I-I didn't know how to react back then. All my life, I've hidden my vulnerability just so l wouldn't seem weak to my father...and I know that's obviously no excuse for my behavior but that’s why. I'm so so sorry Y/n. I never meant to hurt you.”

You look away from Clarisse again and think about something before speaking up. "Just promise me you'll try to be more vulnerable with me in the future Clar,” you say softly before turning back to the Ares girl. Clarisse's eyes widened in surprise at your request. She didn't know if she could make such a promise, but she knew she wanted to try for you. "I promise I'll try Y/n." You smile softly in response and stay silent, taking in how beautiful the Ares girl looked under the moonlight. Clarisse gazed back at you with an intensity that made your heart flutter. "You're so beautiful angel," She murmured softly. Your soft smile turned into a grin at the compliment and you could feel butterflies forming in your stomach.

"And you're gorgeous princess," You mumbled just as soft. Clarisse's cheeks flushed at your compliment. "Thank you," she whispered, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. She moved closer to you, unable to resist the urge to be more near you. Your eyes flickered between Clarisse's eyes and her lips. You resisted the urge to lean in, still scared of the possibility of scaring the Ares girl away. Clarisse sensed your hesitation, but she didn't want to push you away. She wanted to be close to you, to feel the warmth of your presence. "Can I kiss you angel?" She asked softly. You nod immediately, leaning in just a bit to meet Clarisse half way.

Clarisse's heart was racing as your lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. It was unlike any kiss she had ever experienced before; filled with tenderness and vulnerability that she had never allowed herself to show. She deepened the kiss, feeling warmth spreading through her body. You return the kiss with a soft smile, feeling like your heart is beating out of your chest. Clarisse's hands moved up to cup your face, her fingers tangling in your hair as she lost herself in the kiss. It was like a spark had ignited inside of her, and she couldn't get enough.

You pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily, "Does this mean we're dating now?" You asked softly, trying to hide your hopeful tone of voice. Clarisse rolled her eyes at you but she couldn’t hide the smile on her face, "Yes," she replied simply. “We're dating dumbass." She leaned in to kiss you again, but paused, looking into your eyes. "I know it's probably too early for this but I already said it so fuck it... I love you Y/n." You look at Clarisse with adoration in your eyes and grin, "I love you too Clarisse," then you closed the distance and pulled her into another kiss.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fanfic

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yok00k · 2 months

Text

truth or dare

pairing: hellokittylover/coquette!oc x boxer!jk

genre: angst, fluff

‧₊˚🎧⊹♡— are you playing? truth or dare

synopsis: rumor has it that jungkook is entertaining other girl(s)

word count: 3.3k

warnings: angsty, oc got: attachment issues, daddy issues [like the author], etc. oc is also kinda dumb (and broken) but she’s figuring shit out, lowkey she’s that bitch, jealous!oc, side characters were kinda introduced, mention of jk making out w/ another girl, jk’s character is complex: one sec he’s a playboy and another sec he’s down bad for oc?, open ending, unedited

a/n: this took place when jk and oc were in 2 month situationship and still getting to know one another! so their boundary wasn’t clear..

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Everything seems to be a dream as soon as you wake up on another glorious day.

you’ve never felt so energized like this before. it’s a little strange to say but, you even feel like you’ve been reborn for some unknown reason. maybe today is going to be a good day for you.

well let’s see.. you’re off from work plus you basically got nothing to do other than clean your room a little for a little bit and to just chill around!

one of the first things you do as soon as you wake up is stare at your phone, particularly to see if jungkook has sent you a message yet as he always never fails to not. a simple yet sweet “good morning pretty :)” and “did my baby girl sleep well?” can add a bright color to your day. it shows that he cares and that he’s thinking about you too.

the anticipated message from your comfort person unexpectedly did not pop out in your notification. it kind of threw you off. jungkook never misses sending you at least one message, precisely at 8:30 every morning. even in the mornings where he had a boxing match the night before. today is indeed such a strange day.

you’re in no position to be sad just because he didn’t message you. in fact, you’re not, you’re just surprised, or so you think. at the same time, you shouldn’t be in shock owing to the fact that there’s no label between you and jungkook. indeed there’s something going on with you and him, whatever that would be except for being girlfriend and boyfriend.

you often ask yourself where you two stand. for you, it’s indistinct to identify what you are to him. all you know is that he is someone special to you. jungkook makes you feel like you’re the prettiest girl in the whole universe every time he’s around you. it’s the way he articulates his words when speaking to you. you can’t explain it.

you’re more than aware that you’re growing emotional attachment to him. getting used to his affection and now that you didn’t receive a message from him to start off your day, it dismays you. although you’re not sure if there's a hidden motive beyond those gut feeling, you choose to ignore it and start typing on your keyboard.

good morning my ggukie!!

r u free today?? kinda wanna hang out with you >o<

delivered | 9:01 am

since you didn’t establish any kind of plan that you’ll be doing today, you’re thinking of inviting him over. you have lots of things to show him, things you purchased when you went shopping with your best friend who also happens to lives next door, Yun-jin

speaking of her before you even forget, you have to call and ask her how her night went from clubbing last night. she initially invited and forced you to go. but your thousands of homeworks and seventy other things on your checklist didn’t permit you to go. partying is always fun, especially with her, but you have to stay focused on your priorities.

you find her inbox off your message app, the first thing you saw was her latest message from this morning

im aliveeeeeeebwwkwwjhskw

sent at 3:33 am

it made you chuckle lightly. she’s completely wasted. there’s no point of calling her as she’s probably still down. so, you decided to pull up to her apartment, bring a few painkillers with you. you’ll bet seven grand that her hangover is going to be so bad.

opening the door using the key she gave you, you spot her laying on the cream and fluffy rug in her cozy white themed living room. you quickly make your way towards her.

“yunny wake up” you said, gently rubbing her back. “i brought you some painkillers, take them quickly” handling her a couple of pain relievers.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

you’re currently searching for breakfast in her mini fridge, something yun-jin can eat so she’ll feel better. your poor friend is a complete mess as she lazily walks toward the counter in front of you.

“last night was so fun, you should’ve come,” she murmurs, hopping on the bar stool as she watches you cook her breakfast. “Jaeyun won’t stop asking me about you.”

oh you almost forget about him. Jaeyun is Yun-jin’s childhood friend who has a huge interest in you. well that’s what Yun-jin has told you, but you swore to her that you won’t tell him that you know. back in your senior year of high school, you mostly have the same classes as him. oftentimes you two hang out and study together in a local cafe. you enjoy his company a lot, but only as friends. just when you and Jungkook started talking, your friendship with Jaeyun unintentionally grew apart. you lowkey miss hanging out with him. anyways, you take a mental note to check up on him later.

yun-jin tells you more about what you’ve missed. most of them are about the hot guys that she encountered in the night club. that’s not new to you because she’s always out there looking out for hotties.

“oh i forgot to tell you, you remember Blythe? she’s wildin’ last night too” of course, how could you forget about the girl who spreads malicious rumors about you? you genuinely don’t know what’s up with her as she constantly talks shit about you though you never know her personally. to you, she’s just a friend of a friend and some type of hater. indeed, it’s a one- sided beef. she is also known for making out with multiple guys and god knows what at every party she’s in.

“my god, who was her target last night??” you interestedly asked. you and yun-jin have a silly habit of keeping track of her targets. you two soon discover that she goes for the basketball players and athletic guys in general.

“I don't think we’ve seen the guy in a club before but I’ve heard he does underground boxing.” she said as her eyes glanced to her left, trying to recollect her memory. Jungkook might be familiar with the mysterious man. he could be either in his circle or one of his opponents.

you just hum, you expected she’ll go for another basketball player. you guess she’s trying something new.

“but girl, let me tell you. the boxer guy looked so drunk and she was dry humping on him like a damn get a fucking room bro” she adds more details on the tea, while pretending to cry as she covers her eyes.

“wait was the guy totally intoxicated ?” you ask as cracking the eggs on the hot pan.

“No, he was still responding back to her, running his hands around her body and stuff.” you’re glad you didn’t see that yourself, or else you’ll cringe. your friend giving you a summary of how the night went is enough. still, it’s entertaining. for a while.

“let me see if she posted something on her IG” yun-jin utters, pulling out her phone from her pocket.

she taps on her screen multiple times, and finally she finds a story that the girl posted. “look, she posted this”

and with that, yun-jin faces the phone your way. you take a glance on her screen, showing you a low exposure photo of the girl sitting on the uknown guy’s lap. her face is showing while his face wasn't captured. the blurry image seems normal. until your eyes examine the familiar tatted arm that’s wrapped around the girl’s torso. you swear you’ve seen those tattoos before. it takes you a while to recognize the ink into the deep layer of their skin.

then it hits you— those not-so-foreign tattoos belong to jungkook, your jungkook.

oh. your heart suddenly drops.

your eyes lock with the phone screen surface longer than the usual, by which makes your friend frown.

“hey, what’s wrong?” Yun-jin concernedly ask

maybe that’s why he hasn’t texted you yet. maybe he slept wit—

“y/n? you ok?” your friend calls for you again, interrupting your thoughts, though they didn’t fully vanish.

shifting your eyes to her, you blink rapidly “yeah, i’m completely ok,” swallowing your lies away. you can feel your eyes watering, and you don't want your friend to see you break down.

after cooking her breakfast, you decided to head back. “I forgot that I have something to do, I’ll go now” you rapidly put your shoes on

‘she’s not eating this breakfast with me?’ Yun-jin thinks as she watches you leave her apartment.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

As soon as you get back to your apartment, you walk towards your bedroom. immediately, you throw yourself on the bed.

“I’m so stupid” you groan as you kick the baby pink multi layer bedsheets on your bed.

and once again, you can’t explain this bothersome feeling. anger? feeling betrayed? jealousy? sadness? all of the above?

you can’t understand. no, you’re trying to understand in the midst of confusion.

you really like him, you really do. and he says he likes you too. he even confessed his feelings to you first! since then, it was safe to assume that you two will establish a label soon. you were so sure of it, until now.

how.. how come he’s with another woman?

the more you think about, the more you feel the sting in your heart. the unpleasant emotion is spreading inside your system, it’s urging you to throw up. you find yourself removing dead skin out of your cuticle using your thumbnail, a habit which you only do to relieve anxiety.

you have so many questions that need to be answered. were the feelings he felt about you real? or was he just playing you? or did he just forget that you exist in his life last night? or did he just lose interest in you? these questions bring out your inner conflicts. so many questions you’re afraid to know the real answers of.

just before the skin next to your cuticle bleeds, your focus shifts to the triple loud ping coming from your phone. Of course, those messages belong to the one person who you least likely want to face right now.

morning pretty

sorry just woke up, having a severe hangover rn

still down to hang out? I can pull up a little later

sent at 11:59 am

his text confirms your suspicion, proving that he was drinking heavily last night. you can’t stand seeing him today. you will just cancel your initial plan and make up some lame excuse.

nvm, we can just hang out another time.

no, erase that. you’ll avoid him from now on, there won’t be another time!

nvm, I feel sick. please don’t come over.

seen at 12:00 pm

my poor baby, i’ll take care of u

sent | 12:01 pm

no need, thanks tho

delivered | 12:01 pm

not being in the mood to keep talking to him, you send the last message before putting your phone on ‘do not disturb’ mode. leaving jungkook’s messages unseen

considering that your day has been ruined, you choose to shut down the world and take a long nap.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

on the other hand, jungkook definitely notices how cold you turned out to be. maybe it's the time of the month for you. thus, today his mission is to grab things you typically crave for: brown sugar milk tea, some sweet pastries from your favorite bakery shop, and finally, the icing to add on top, a bouquet of white roses.

jungkook usually pampers you with a bunch of food and affection. that’s why he pays attention and takes mental notes (or even notes on his phone) of tiny details about you. it satisfies him to see you all spoiled.

that’s the reason why he jumps out of his messy bed and initiates to get ready. starting off his usual morning routine by taking a cold shower. not much time after, he applies his skincare.

Jungkook hears loud chatters of two men talking from his living room as he walks out of his bedroom. he opens the door and perceives his hyungs chilling by his couch.

“yah jungkook, that chick you brought from last night was way out of control” Jimin complains as soon as jungkook enters the living room.

“yeah kook, kicking her out at 3 in the morning wasn’t a good idea. she’s loud as hell and I had to deal with one of your neighbors' complaints again” Taehyung, who was their designated driver, added annoyingly.

“whose chick?” jungkook confusedly asks.

“yours” both of his hyungs exclaim in unison, which the youngest responds with a shrug.

to be honest, Jungkook doesn’t remember shit from last night. he can recollect some memories, but not a whole bunch. drinks. yes, he drank a lot. there was this girl he randomly made out with, however he can’t remember her name or what she looks like. not that she’s relevant to him anyways.

jungkook chooses to not care about the insignificance, he could spend his time better than that. and by the word better, he spends time thinking about you.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

the constant sound from your doorbell that’s been ringing for who-knows-how-long wakes you up from your wonderful nap.

you gently rubbing your eyes, then you tap the screen of your cellular to see the time; 3:59 pm.

shit, how long were you out for? no idea. you look at your window and see the raindrops rolling down the glass. it was just sunny before you drifted to sleep a few hours ago.

down below to your screen, you notice jungkook messages and a few missed calls from earlier and just now.

7 missed calls from 🐰

55 mins ago

I’ll stay for the night so I can take care of you

delivered | 12:03 pm

just grabbing few things for my baby and I’ll be there soon.

delivered | 12:30 pm

it’s raining heavily and now I’m stuck in traffic

delivered | 1:01 pm

I’m here!

delivered | 1:44 pm

baby? are you home? I'm here

delivered | 1:51 pm

don’t know where u at but I’ll be here waiting at your front door :(

delivered | 1:56 pm

after reading his texts, you rush to the door. there’s no way that man will wait for those hours outside your front doo-

indeed, he’s in front of your door, waiting for you to open up to him as he’s sitting on the ground. besides him, a couple of light brown paper bags, his backpack, and a bouquet of flowers are also laying on the cold cement.

“hi my pretty!” he cheerfully greeted you, rushing to get up from the ground. jungkook walks up to you with a smile full of relief and happiness as if he wasn’t wasting his time for two hours waiting for you right there.

you attempt to avoid his gaze, your eyes examine his black long sleeve that really fits him nice and is damp.

“come in, you should change your clothes.” you mutter coldy

it’s inevitable to not be concerned that he got wet from the rain. Even if you don’t wanna let him in, it will guilt you if he gets ill.

jungkook does what he was told, gathering all the stuff he brings with him and steps into your flat. he feels the strange coldness as soon as he lands his eyes on yours. something isn’t right. something is wrong with you.

He settles his things by your couch and changes into a new oversized t-shirt in front of you. after changing, he reaches for the paper bags to show you the things he got.

“look baby, I got you your favorite drink, some pastries, i know how much you lov-”

“thank you, but you shouldn’t have. I told you to not come” your stern voice cuts him off before he finishes his sentence. you’re trying to keep your cool. your tone is full of nothing but seriousness. not a hint of sweetness in them, which makes jungkook tilt his head on the side, confused by your odd attitude.

“but baby, I just wanted to be here to take care of you.” he insists. by all means, he won’t listen to what you say.

“I hate when you do this” you sigh

“did i do something wrong? are you mad at me?” he attempts to reach you, but you’re too quick to avoid his touch. “tell me what’s wrong baby, please” Jungkook added once more. he doesn’t understand why you avoid him.

“do you treat your other girls like this too?” you ask, eyes shooting lasers at his. an anger rushes through you as the thoughts of him spoiling girls other than you.

“my pretty, what are you talking about?” Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, looking down closely to you. where are you getting these notions from?

“my friend saw you last night”

it took him a couple seconds to remember

“listen to me baby, whoever I was with, she meant nothing” Jungkook defends himself quickly, reaching for your hand, trying to reassure you that she’s insignificant.

it’s not working.

“I just wish you could’ve told me we weren’t exclusive.” you said wipe a tear from your upper cheek before it could roll down further.

“or maybe I was just dumb to assume we were since you initially told me you liked me, I'm sorry, I don’t really know how this whole thing works” you dryly chuckle, honestly admitting to him that you’ve never been in this type of complicated situation before. now you feel like a fool, getting mad at him for something you can’t hold against him.

jungkook shakes his head, reaching for you one more time, placing his gentle on the side of your face, caressing it. you did nothing as you stood still.

“no, i’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I do like you. I still do and that won’t change. I was just so drunk last night and could barely remember what happened. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

but somewhere deep down is telling you that he’s only sorry because he got caught.

“you’re free to do whatever you want, Jungkook. I don’t think we’re on the same page so it will be best if we don’t see each other anymore” you articulate as best as you could.

you don’t want to let him go, due to the fact that you’re growing so much feelings towards him. it’s almost as if you’re enamored. but that’s also the same reason why you must let him go. you must, or you’ll get hurt deeper.

“y/n, please don’t say that”

“No, you know how much I like you. you know how much I value you. yet in return, I feel like I’m just a plaything to you that you can play with whenever you want.”

“that’s not true baby, you know that” Jungkook protests, shaking his head. the main problem is you don't. you absolutely have no idea of his motives for pursuing you. is he doing it because he's falling for you too? or he's just playing one of those games. those dangerous games you won't involve yourself with.

he’s looking for words to proves you that his feelings were genuine, but fails to. maybe because he never knows how to show his real feelings. or maybe he was never genuine to start with.

"I'm not one of your playthings. so just— ” you pause, shifting your eyes on the ground. “go away"

Jungkook locks his gaze to you, hoping you will look back at him and take back what you said. but he can read you face and make it seem like he’s not welcome there anymore.

without any words, he leaves, leaving you accompanied with melancholy.

series m.list

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkookxreader #bts jk #jungkook ff #jeon jk #jjk x you #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jeongguk #bts ff #jeon jeongguk #jeongguk x reader

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mrs-weasley-reid · 2 months

Text

Escape Is Mandatory

platonic Spencer Reid x geniusbau!reader | part 4

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Summary: prison changed Spencer, and along with it were a couple of horrible choices bau!reader refused to tolerate, hence a threat to their years of friendship. But all of it disappeared as soon as an unsub threatened your life.

Warning: details of death, violence, and infidelity; curse word(s)

A/N: I can't believe it has been over a year since I posted this mini-series (me just disappearing out of nowhere, lol). This draft has been sitting for a year. I never published it because it felt boring (I still do, somehow), but I wanted to celebrate the series reaching a year old HAHA! Anywaysss, as usual, this might be heavy, so be mindful when reading. It's not my gif; credits to the owner :)

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

Luther Gerard grinned maniacally, leaning against his seat, "Let me guess... sister? Oh, but she's too pretty to be related to you." His cuffed hand caressed your picture on the table, "Lover, perhaps?"

Spencer's jaw clenched, "Where. Is. She?" His palms were itchy, breathing steadily as he kept them flat on the table.

This unsub was unlike any other serial killer he had encountered. Luther Gerard, age 38, is an average plumber but one hell of a genius, almost as dangerously intelligent as Spencer, with 186 IQ.

Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He was terrified to the bone. Because this time, the unsub had 83.248% outsmarting him, and the victim was you.

"Anyone wanna hear how I picked her up?" Luther glanced at the two-sided mirror, chuckling, "I'll take the silence as a yes."

He looked at Spencer straight in his eyes, "It was dim, but not too much. She was 40 feet away from the precinct entrance... 15 from you. She looked pretty mad when she turned her back, but she looked so hurt walking away. I can remember her tears. Oh, they were sweet and just a little salty. She knew I was there for her. She was going to scream for you. But what can I say? She was a second too slow. I was going to get your attention but she looked so good unconscious in my arms."

"You sick son of a bitch—"

It took Luke, Matt, and three police officers to hold Spencer back. His face was red, and Luke swore he was breathing fire. His knuckles were white as he grabbed Luke's shirt and a bit of the skin on Matt's arm.

Spencer escaped from being pinned by five people with minimal struggle, grabbing Luther's collar to the point of suffocation. "Where the hell is she?! Tell me where!"

Luther laughed out loud, watching as Spencer crumbled into an angry mess. "Listen here, Dr. Reid... you can be a point smarter than me as long as you can, but she will always be two points dumber than me. She'll die in that fucking warehouse."

Emily barged into the interrogation room, "Reid." She gestured at Matt to take him out of the room, leaving Luke to get the answers they'd been looking for the past five hours.

Spencer aggressively shrugged Matt's hands on his shoulders, "I can walk," His voice grew a little softer than seconds ago, but his tone still crunched with anger.

As soon as the door shut, Spencer turned to Emily, "She's dying out there."

"You're not the only one who's worried. She's our friend, too, you know. But we won't find her if you let your emotions take over you." Emily took a deep breath, giving him a concerned look.

Spencer ran his fingers through his hair, "I'm not worried. I'm scared." He dropped his head, letting a cruel sigh pass his shivering lips.

Despite his attempt to reinsert himself in the interrogation room, Emily forbade him from coming in contact with the unsub for the rest of the evening. So, he stood next to JJ in the conference room, trying to save you in the best way he knew how: geographic profiling.

"I should've known," Spencer mumbled under his breath.

JJ turned to him, "Did you find something?" She scanned the board in front of them, hoping that she'd see what Spencer was seeing.

Spencer loosened his tie, "The victims. The location. I should've figured it out the moment we briefed about the case. It should've clicked." He guiltily looked at JJ, "I should've kept her safe."

"Spence," JJ spoke motherly. "None of us knew she was the target. You have to know that none of this is your fault." She gave him a kind look, something he knew well to differ whether it was out of pity or genuine compassion.

"But it is my fault..." He averted his eyes from her. He couldn't bear to look at anyone in their eyes, much less the thought of yours, filled with tears from his stupidity.

JJ's eyebrows gently knitted, "Did something happen the last time you saw her?"

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

2 days ago...

The afternoon's fifth hour barely struck, yet the sky was already dark. The lampposts around the precinct were enough light to at least keep you and Spencer from tripping.

None of you have said a word for the past three minutes. You even missed Emily's nod. Both of you were too occupied to care. You: with the obscene sight you just witnessed and the burning itch to smack the back of his head. Spencer: with whatever internal conflict he was going through after coming back from prison, he refused to talk to anyone about.

With every step away from the might as well named crime scene, your lips slowly unfastened. Spencer had barely clicked the SUV's key when you began.

"She's married."

"She's unhappily married."

Your eyebrows clashed, "That's not an excuse, Reid. Your wrinkly brain knows that."

"Can't you just mind your own business?" Spencer rolled his eyes, treating your conversation lighter than you wanted him to.

"I would have if only you did," You looked at him with utter disbelief. No amount of blinking would erase the sight forever etched in the back of your curse of a photographic memory. "Her unhappy marriage was her business. That was her and her husband's business."

Spencer was growing impatient with you. The signs were easy to catch. His knotted forehead. Thoughtless glare. Clenched hands deep in his pockets. An obvious Spencer-is-pissed-at-you special tell.

He straightened his back, "I was just helping her out."

"Holy shit—" You scoffed a baffled chuckle, "Are you hearing yourself? Adultery and sympathy are not the same, Reid. What the hell has gotten into your head?"

Ordinary people wouldn't have cared. Luke and Matt would disagree and judge Spencer's stupid choices but would've kept their mouths shut. Emily and David would spit a bit of advice on how morally wrong he was, but they would have minded their own business for the most part. Tara would've been disgusted but refused to get herself involved. JJ and Penelope would have been utterly disappointed and angry at him, but they wouldn't have missed a chance to make up with him.

You, however, felt nauseatingly repugnant. Years of friendship felt like a thin layer of ice loudly breaking. He knew most of your uninteresting and failed romance. How often has he lent you a back to bury your face on? The number of times he's caught not two but four of your short-term lovers shamelessly cheating. He knew well enough, too much even.

"You know what I think?" He chuckled evilly. And you knew then he was aiming for your throat. "I think you're just jealous because you don't have the aptitude to get over your dead boyfriend."

Your jaw dropped. You half-expected him to say those words, but it still surprised you. It still stung. Your tears were fighting to flow, but you had enough self-respect to not do it before him, not with his shitty attitude, at least.

You gripped the hem of your blazer, "You're a jerk. That's what you are." You took a sharp breath, biting the overflowing ache on your chest. "Come back when you've got something for the case."

A second didn't pass after you turned your back on him, and the tears immediately trailed down your face. You walked out of the parking lot as fast as you could. Crying in front of your childhood classmates felt more gratifying than in front of Spencer.

Wiping the unwanted tears from your cheeks, your feet came to a halt without warning. Something about the fifteen-foot distance from Spencer's back and the forty-foot gap from the entrance to the precinct left you terrifyingly vulnerable.

Your gears began turning.

Victims were awfully close to your build.

You're in your hometown.

And it clicked a second too late.

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

"Spence!" JJ gently shook Spencer back to reality. As soon as she knew he was back down to earth, she immediately spoke, "They found another body—"

Spencer flew out of the door before JJ could even finish speaking. He went to Luke, who was on his way to one of the SUVs. "Where?" He asked in a rush. His heart was beating right in his ear. A series of negative thoughts filled his head.

Luke had a few seconds to tell Spencer where the said body was but quickly interrupted Spencer's thoughts. "We don't know anything yet, Reid."

"But what if it's her?" Spencer snapped. He had little patience for anyone. All he knew was how important it was to see a body that's not you.

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

"Fuck!" You cried in a shattered voice.

Tears flowed nonstop down your face, along with your own blood dripping from the top of your horribly bandaged head. Luther Gerard was evil enough to let you bleed slowly to death.

Unbeknownst to him, you were the most stubborn person in the entire BAU team. You bled your way out of the place he locked you in, cursing the pain off your chest.

You have been loosening the barbwire wrapped around your feet with your bare hands for the past hour. Your hands and your feet had gotten skinned off from the sharp metal.

Hope was on your side, though, as you felt your left foot painfully slide off the wrap. You cried out in joy, holding your ankles tight as if the pain would immediately dissipate.

You wiped your tears off your face, smearing blood from your palm onto your skin. You laughed, already delirious from lack of blood. "I'm going to break your neck once I find you. Then I'll beat the hell out of Reid for taking his goddamn time."

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

Spencer felt relief wash over him as soon as he glanced at the lifeless woman being pulled out of the creek. It may have been messed up that he was thankful a different woman died, but he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

He and Luke drove back to the precinct with a little less tense chests. They may not have found you, but the fact that you weren't the body they found meant one thing. You were still alive. That's all that mattered.

"We'll find her," Luke broke the silence between them, glancing at Spencer from his peripheral. "She's stubborn. She won't let anyone hurt her without punching back. She's probably on her way back to the precinct." He attempted to lighten the mood.

Spencer took a deep breath, "She better be." He looked outside of the car, biting his lower lip. "She has to escape wherever she is. It's mandatory. I'm not letting her die without finishing our argument."

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

It's been two days of searching every nook and cranny of your little hometown, but the team hasn't gotten anywhere in finding you.

Each member was exhausted, especially Spencer. He hasn't gotten a wink of sleep. He couldn't even if he tried to.

They were running out of ideas. But like every single cases the BAU team had, you knew how to turn things around. Their wake snapped up as gasps echoed in the entire precinct.

The team rushed to see the commotion and almost burst into tears as soon as they saw you.

"Oh my god..." JJ whimpered under her breath as she clasped her mouth.

You stood there by the entrance, bloodied up and half-conscious. You held the door's handle tight, painting it with your dirty blood as it kept you up on your feet. They could barely recognize your face from the mixture of blood and dirt on your face.

Despite your pitiful, bloodied state, you managed to show them your temper. "You better have caught that bastard." You growled weakly.

Your body was shaking from exhaustion. Just as you slipped out of consciousness, Spencer rushed to catch your body.

Tara called for a medic while Emily went to your aid. Luke and Matt went straight to work things out and give Gerard the worst news he's ever going to receive: it turns out you weren't as dumb as he wanted you to be.

Spencer gently wiped your face with his sleeve. He didn't care if it was his favorite shirt. All he cared about was how his best friend stubbornly stayed alive.

When Emily sat next to him to keep you off the floor, she saw just how much your friendship meant to Spencer. She squeezed his shoulder, "She's back safe with us, Reid. She'll be alright."

Her words prompted Spencer's sobs, tears trickling onto your face in hopes that it would wash the hell you went through for the past days. He quickly wiped them off, though. He knew well enough how you'd react to his 'filthy tears' coming in contact with your skin.

"Yeah, you better clean it off," You mumbled with your eyes closed, gripping the hem of his cardigan vest. You couldn't let yourself pass out, knowing you had a severe wound on your head.

Spencer choked a laugh, "Took you long enough. I thought I would have to save your ass." He sniffed as he let the paramedics transfer you onto a crash cart.

You scoffed, turning into a short series of coughs. "Just admit it. You can't figure things out without my brain power. Your brain's getting smooth, Reid. Prodigy no more."

The team couldn't help but roll their eyes at you and Spencer's banter, bouncing back faster than your recovery. Although they hated to admit it, they preferred the two of you that way rather than apart.

"I'm glad you're safe..." Spencer's voice became softer. Somehow, he couldn't stop himself from tearing up. This was the second time he'd cried nonstop. The first time being the love of his life's death.

He was glad this time wasn't due to someone important's death. He didn't know how he'd handle it if the person he could always rely on would leave him of this world.

As you were dragged into the ambulance, you gave all the rest of your strength to glare at Spencer. "Don't think you're off the record. After I deal with Gerard, you're next."

"Is it mandatory?" He sarcastically stated, jumping into the ambulance the moment you were settled in. He couldn't bear to leave you out of his sight.

#ssa spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds #cm #criminalminds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x self insert #fem!reader #dr spencer reid #platonic #spencer x reader #spencerreid

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bratzforchris · 2 months

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Heeeyyyyy🎀

I have an idea👀

Matt x reader where she’s really scared of dogs and they go over to a mutual friends house and they have a dog (That reader somehow didn’t know about🤷🏽‍♀️😭) and Matt eases her into not being afraid anymore.

Puppy Love

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*

Summary: Above!!

Pairing: Matt x feminine reader (with surprise guests Jake and Johnnie :3)

Warnings: Fear of dogs, Jake being an oblivious little shit

Word Count: 872

A/N: Thank you for the request! Let me know if you guys would ever want more crossover type fics like this! Especially after this past weekend (if you know, you know) :)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*

If there was one thing that you feared more than anything else, it was dogs. You knew it was irrational, but you’d had the fear since you were a small child, having been pushed over by a large dog at the park. For this reason, you and Matt had a little gray tabby kitten that you both considered your “child”.

That didn’t mean other people didn’t have dogs, though. You usually tried to nonchalantly ask about people’s pets, terrified of either a) being judged or b) being shocked by a large animal you were unaware of. Matt knew about your fear, and thus, usually made sure the friends you hung out with were dog free or the pets were out of the house before you went over.

Everyone was bound to make mistakes, though, and this was what happened on this particular day. You and Matt had agreed to go over to Jake and Johnnie’s house to film a teams video, in which you and your boyfriend would go against Jake and Johnnie in a gingerbread house building contest. You were quite excited for the day as Matt turned the car into the driveway of their LA house, humming along softly to a Dominic Fike song on the radio.

“I’m excited,” You giggled as you both exited the car, walking towards the front door. The excitement didn’t last long, however, because you soon heard a bark from inside the house that caused you to stop in your tracks. You dropped Matt’s hand, looking up at him as your face paled. “Do they…have a dog?”

Matt’s face dropped as he looked at you, worry creasing his eyes. “Shit, baby. I forgot. I’m so sorry, honey. Let me text Jake and ask him if he can maybe put him in the backyard.”

But before Matt could send the message, Jake opened the door, smiling widely. “Hey guys!”

Behind him, was a large, white and black pitbull. The dog didn’t move, opting to sit by Jake’s feet, but he continued to bark like there was no tomorrow. You practically clung to Matt’s side, fear coursing through your body. He didn’t look aggressive, but his bark sure sounded like it. Johnnie appeared seemingly out of nowhere next to Jake and the dog, surveying the situation.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Jake had been oblivious to your and Matt’s silence, but Johnnie was much more observant. He took one look at your fearful face and the way your nails were digging into Matt’s bicep while he gently rubbed your back. You looked up as Matt shifted, an anxious look on his face.

“Y/N isn’t…crazy about dogs.” he mumbled quietly, not wanting to embarrass you.

“Shredder’s chill, dude.” Jake chuckled, opening the door wider so you two could step in.

“The dog’s name is Shredder?”

If you weren’t anxious before, you definitely were now. The dog was huge and muscular, with a name that made him sound even more malicious. Even though he hadn’t moved, simply wagging his tail against the floor as Johnnie pet him, you were still frozen with fear. Matt gently rubbed your side, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, before holding his hand out for the dog to sniff.

“Hey, sweet boy.” Matt smiled, ever the animal lover.

The dog whined happily, straining against Johnnie’s hold on his spiked collar.

“He’s not aggressive,” Johnnie smiled at you kindly. “He doesn’t jump either. He mostly just likes to be pet.”

“Dude’s a lazy ass bitch.” Jake snorted as you and Matt finally stepped inside the house, closing the door behind you.

Johnnie rolled his eyes, but allowed Matt to continue petting the dog. “Says you.”

Matt ignored the boy’s banter, keeping a watchful eye on you. He didn’t want you to be scared, so he was hoping maybe him showing you how sweet the pup was would ease your fear. “Do you wanna pet him?” he asked you softly.

You nodded timidly, eyes wide with fear. “I’ll, um, try…I guess.” You whispered.

You softly put your hand out, allowing Shredder to sniff you and all your scents. To your surprise, he didn’t try to lunge for you the way he had Matt. He just butted his head against your hand, a happy grunt escaping his mouth as his tongue flopped out to the other side. You smiled, looking to Matt for confirmation.

Your boyfriend smiled, happy to see you conquering fears. “I think he likes you.”

Johnnie eased his hold on the dog’s collar, nodding to Jake as Shredder trotted over to your side. rather than be overly wild, the pup simply rubbed against your legs, panting happily. Matt smiled, holding your hand, just to make sure you weren’t any more anxious than you had to be.

“I love him.” You giggled after a moment.

Sure, you had been scared at first, but Matt never failed to calm your fears. You knew he would never allow you to get hurt and that he would always protect you, and for that, you were forever grateful.

tags ♡: @aemrsy @jake-and-johnnies-slut @mattsfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mimi-luvzyu @mayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @idek3000hi @runasvengence @sunsetsturniolos @strnlvr @stingerayyy2

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

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simphornies · 4 months

Note

Could I have it's fine if not

A vox x reader where shes his secretary?

A/N: Your wish is my command, <3 This was fun to write. I definitely headcanon Vox as someone that would fluster easily because he's just constantly around the Vees so being around somebody else that he isn't trying to hypnotize or boss around is new territory for him. Enjoy a flustered Vox. Definitely let me know if you'd like a part 2. I love subjecting him to this in my stories.

Word count: 2.9k words (2,948)

Breathtaking [ Vox x Secretary!Reader ]

The moment Vox saw you standing in front of him in his office, he immediately took notice of your curves. The way your uniform hugged every inch of you nicely. He didn't want to admit that you are Velvette's top model. Not that random bitch Valentino tore up in his fit of rage.

Your intelligence. Your charisma. Your hunger for power. He watched you ever since you demanded to work in his company. He took note of every quirk you have, replaying everything you've done throughout the day just in case he missed something.

When he saw that you were getting approached by Valentino, something boiled inside of him. He didn't want him to have your soul and body. Hell. Your body. He wanted you all to himself. No contracts. No deals. But there's one problem. He has no idea how to approach you. Like at all.

"C'mon darling~" Valentino plays with your hair, "I promise I can make you a star. Imagine it, you and Angel Dust. Side by side. You'll make so much money you won't even know what to do with it!" He breathes out his red smoke, surrounding you both. You could only see his eyes glowing behind it. "Don't run away, babe. Make a deal with me." He grins as his voice echoes around you.

You were about to try and fight for your life against an overlord until the smoke clears out with a zap. You feel the electricity crackling in the air. An arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into them. It was Vox.

"Valentino!" He smiles, "I see you've met my new personal assistant." Val scoffs, a little upset that he got first pick. You weren't entirely aware that you got boosted up to being an assistant but hey. You'd rather that than be a pornstar.

"You never told me this little princesa's your assistant. When did that start?" He whined.

"It started now. I told you I've been watching one of our..." He chuckles, trying to find the right words as to not expose him basically watching you, "...newest recruits."

Valentino almost chokes on his smoke, offended at the lie he just spat out. "Well I need that gorgeous body on set." He lifts up your chin with a finger, taunting you.

Vox moves you behind him before putting his arm around Val, his voice distorting a bit, "Val Val Val..." He chuckled, "You can have any other woman we can reach." They start walking a little bit out of ear shot for you. "I want this one. Got it?" He flashed his hyponitizing eye into his unaffected fellow overlord.

Valentino rolled his eyes and raises his hands up in defeat, "Fine. Fine. Take her." He scoffs, "But as soon as she's gone from your hands. She'll be mine." He chuckled.

"Fucking asshole." You hissed under your breath, secretly hoping he didn't hear it because you're kinda scared of him.

"Well, well. Nice to finally meet you." Vox pivots on his heel to face you, "I'm sure you've heard of me, HA! Who hasn't? The name's Vox." He extends his hand out to you, "And you, my dear, are?"

You take his hand to shake it, "I'm Y/N. I've been watching your work ever since I fell into hell and I've been doing my absolute best to finally get a chance to speak with you! I have so much to say and every time I try to get a meeting set up and-" You rambled before getting cut off by Vox pulling you closer to him as he grinned in delight. "My my. You have a lot to say there, doll. Why don't we go into my office so we can have a real meeting."

You get a bit flustered with your blabbering. "Ah. Yes. Apologies. I was just-" You take a deep breath, "Thank you. For saving me back there."

Vox chuckles a bit and teleports the two of you into his office, leaning into his folded hands. You felt the static all over your skin, your hair floating a bit in certain parts. He walks around his desk and plops down on his chair. You fix yourself up and sit across from him.

"So, Y/N, what were you saying earlier?"

"I want to be yours." You blurt out. Vox blinks, his smile faltered a bit.

"Excuse me?"

"I MEAN-" You clear your throat, "I want to be your assistant. I want to work for you. Under you. I am not afraid to get my hands dirty if it means you rise up in strength as the overlord of this city." If there was anything you can do right, it's killing. And blurting out the wrong things.

Vox chuckled in amusement, "Alright dollface, let's see what you can do." He grins, holding his hand out for you to shake. You shake it with eager delight. ------------------ It's been almost a year since you've begun your work as Vox's personal assistant and it's safe to say that his admiration for you grew over time. You were now next to him at all times. Even though you were his assistant, he was at you beck and call. You honestly didn't expect this behavior out of the powerful demon, but you weren't entirely opposed to it.

"Y/N. Pull up the statistics for the lowest earners this month." Vox states, stress oozing out of his words.

"Yes sir." You nod, directly transporting what he had asked for into the screen in front of him.

"I told you to call me Vox." He groans before cracking his neck, flicking through the screen to note down the employees that haven't met anywhere near the required quota. You take note his stiffness, specifically in his left shoulder. 'He must be working overnight again.' You thought to yourself.

You walk up behind him, gently massaging his shoulders. He flinches slightly from the sudden physical contact. "Wh-what are you doing?" He glitched a bit, hoping you didn't catch that.

"You stayed up overnight again, didn't you?" You sigh, "Sir, you need to take better care of yourself. You may be a powerful overlord but your wits will lose its touch if you don't get the proper rest you need." You work your fingers to massage the knot out of his shoulders as he slowly melted into you touch.

He groans a bit in pleasure, "I-" He started to protest but cut him off before deciding not too. "Whatever. Work your magic. You're good at that with me." He leans further back into his seat as he shuts his eyes, giving into your massage, "And call me Vox!"

You smile, looking down at him, "If you insist," You lean down, whispering into the side of his head, presumably where his ears would be, "Vox."

He was lost in your massage before the sound of his name slips out of your lips, causing his eyes to dart open. "You said my na-" He froze as soon as he turned to face you. Your face was so close to his screen. His face lit up as he slowly starting to buffer.

You grinned at his flustered state, "Sorry. Too close?" You pull yourself back and finally got that knot out of his shoulder. "How come you only have that stubborn knot on your left side?" You thought it strange that it was only on the left. You moved your hands off of the frozen overlord in front of you before shifting over to where he was facing, lightly tapping on his screen.

The taps got him out of his buffered state. He was flustered with you catching him so off guard like that. "No." He coughed, "Just caught me off guard is all." He brings back his signature grin as he looked up at you. "Now what was that question again? Something about a side?"

You roll your eyes, "Your shoulder. The knot I got out was only on the left side. What in the seven rings could you be doing with just that side of you? You arm wrestle Velvette or something?" You state, "You know, I did try that once. She beat me with such ease I never dared to try it again. Valentino just kept trying to lick my arm."

You continued to ramble as he sat and realized why. You haven't left his mind, or his screens, for the last couple of months. He couldn't tell you he's been busy jacking it off to the thought of you sharing his bed with him every night. He couldn't tell you that he wished you were there every time he woke up.

"Ahhh. Yeah! Yeah. Such a bitch to beat." He laughs nervously before quickly getting up, "Well enough of that. Thank you, doll, for the massage. Now, it's almost been a year since you've been by my side and I believe I owe you a treat." He smiled brightly, taking your hand in his, "How about we both the rest of the day off? Let me treat you to a nice restaurant as a...thanks. For your hard work."

Your fingers tapped against the back of his hand, "So...like a date?"

And he glitches again, "No! I mean-pff-what. Nahhhh. That's not-" He stutters, "No! No. I would never-"

His instant denial made your head, and heart, drop a bit in disappointment. You've grown to like him, more than just a close friend and ally. It seems that he took notice of your disappointment as he stopped his ranting to lift your chin up with his free hand.

"Look, just. Get ready. Look pretty! Get Velvette to help you with an outfit if need be. Tell her I sent you. And meet me outside in an hour." He reassures you, "I have quite the surprise for you, Y/N. You know I never disappoint."

"Okay, Vox." You manage a smile, holding his hand tighter. "I'll see you in an hour." You walk towards the door and head straight to Velvette.

Vox puts on his best suit and bowtie. Not allowing a single piece of garment out of place. He waited by the entrance of his building a little bit earlier than the discussed time, eagerly waiting your arrival. Before he knew it he was swamped with reporters, bombarding him with questions regarding the change in the extermination date. He easily answers the questions with his idea of "VoxTek Angelic Security" or so he calls it. He totally just pulled that one out of his ass. He hypnotized the crowd to keep them at bay. As soon as he did, you exit the nearest elevator.

He turned at the sound of heels clacking behind him. You wore a beautiful black dress with red accents that wrapped around your body nicely, hugging your every curve. The drop of your dress went a little bit too low for your liking, straight down from your chest to under your bust, but Velvette insisted that the fashion tape she put on it will prevent any accidental spillage. A slit that revealed the red and blue garter you wore on your thigh that resembled cables. Your hair was curled, half up and half down, falling nicely on your shoulders. On your ears were jewelry that matched the antennas on his signature hat.

The sight of you took all the air out of him, you were stunning in his eyes. "My..." He mumbled to himself as he walks towards you. "You look..."

"Silly, right? I told Velvette she didn't have to go all out. That I was just going out for a meeting with you to celebrate our first year working together." You sigh, looking up at him with a worried look, "If you don't like it, I can quickly change."

Vox couldn't help but snake his hand around your waist, "You look stunning." He grinned, "I can't wait to walk into the finest restaurant in Pentagram City with you by my side." He led you out into the limo waiting, "You're going to break necks with how fast they're going to turn at the sight of you, Y/N."

You blush a bit at his flattery, the makeup you wore barely hiding it. He held the door open for you. You thanked him as you sat inside.

The whole ride there was a test of self-control for Vox. He wanted to hold you in his arms. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, so much so that he swears you could hear it at this point.

You peek out the windows next to Vox. You thought the lights were beautiful, nothing like what they have on Earth. You were captivated by the lights and he took quick notice of you shifting. You scoot closer to him, trying to get a closer look out the window on his side. "The lights are wonderful here, Vox." You smile, taking in the sights.

You place a hand on his thigh, causing him to blush intensely, leaning over him. "If I were to ask you of anything, I'd love to have neon lights in my room." You look up at him, "If you permit it."

He gave himself a mental pat on the back with how quickly he composed himself. Vox places a hand around your waist, "I will give you anything in my power at your asking." He hypes himself up to finally ask you out to be more than just his secretary. More than just his friend. "If you permit, will you consider this as my first attempt in courting you, dear?"

Your face quickly turned red at the sudden turn on events. You lean back, taking your hand off of his thigh. You attempted to back up but his firm grip on your waist stops you, if anything, he pulls you close to his chest. You blinked at him in disbelief, "I-Of course. I shall. I'm honored at to have your attention."

"Love, you've caught my attention since you arrived in hell." He confessed. Before he could continue, the ride slows to a stop as you both arrive at your destination. "Now, shall we?"

You step out of the limo, hand in Vox's as he assists you, careful to not allow you to trip. "I've gotten us our own private dining room here. Somewhere we can speak freely without anybody listening in on our conversation." He leads you into the restaurant, his words earlier still replaying in your head. 'Is this really a date? A date with Vox?' You thought to yourself.

He pulls out the chair for you before seating himself. He sits across from you, propping up his head on the table with his hand. He chugs the bottle of rum on your table to ease his nerves. A couple gulps in, he was ready to talk. "May I confess something to you, Y/N?" He smiles.

"Yes. Of course. Anything, Vox."

"You drive me crazy." He starts, "You're double drop dead gorgeous. If anything is an honor, it's to have you here in hell as my date. These last few months have been my equivalent of heaven."

You fluster at his words, turning red at the compliments. "Y/N, if I may be so bold. I have fallen for you. You're in my mind, always. Your gaze recharges me as much as it short circuits my system."

He gets up to move his chair right next to you, "My dear, I know I just said for you to consider this as me courting you." He holds your hand in his, "But if I'm going to be honest, I don't think I'd be able to handle keeping my hands off of you for tonight. You're absolutely breathtaking."

In response, you finish off what was left in the bottle he drank out off to ease your nerves. The alcohol flushed your face more than it already was from his confession. "Vox. May I be so bold as to speak my truth in return?"

He gulps down his nerves, a bit on edge. "Yes. You know you're always allowed to speak your mind around me."

"Pardon me, then."

"Pardon you for wh-"

You throw yourself on him, kissing him with passion. His hands instinctively wrap around your waist, closing the gap in between your bodies. You shift to sit on his lap, lacking the shame a normal person, probably not in hell, would have in a high rated restaurant. You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into him. You feel his tongue enter your mouth, taking control of yours. He relished your taste. What felt like hours in each others' hold, you finally pull away for air. You gasp and pant, looking into his eyes.

"I've worked as hard as I did, climbed the ranks and dirtied my hands to catch your attention the moment I learned of you. I absolutely adore your mind. Working with you solidified that." You smile sweetly at him, enjoying the shock in his eyes. "I'd love for you to keep your hands on me all night." You winked, "Take that how you will."

You hop off of him, returning to your seat. You sigh contently, holding his hand in yours.

"3..." You count down. Sparks fly from the back of his head.

"2..." You turn to him, his screen was flashing all types of errors now.

"And 1."

His excitement, shock and happiness absolutely drained the city of its power. You giggle and rest your head on his shoulder, waiting for him and the city to properly boot back up. If he unfortunately forgets, you'll just repeat it again for him to remember.

#vox hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #hazbin hotel vees #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette

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manicpixiefelix · 4 months

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baby, put your back into it {Farleigh Start/Reader/Oliver Quick}

1/2: i'm gonna talk you through it [SMUT]

Summary: You're the daughter of one of Henrys, and known to be a snobby, entitled Princess of a woman; neither Venetia nor Felix seems to like you. Farleigh, however, claims that you and he have an ongoing arrangement. Felix says that arrangement is that you and Farleigh bitch together, then fuck like wild animals every time you hang out. Turns out you're even bitchier in person, and after a cruel joke played on Oliver by you and Farleigh at the Henrys dinner, he decides to take a bit of power back. Not that it goes as intended... nor that it goes completely wrong.

Need to Know: She/Her. AFAB!Reader. Established FWB Brat!Reader/Brat Tamer!Farleigh

Warnings: PWP!! smut; fingering, oral (F receiving), dirty talk, lots of arguing, reader is very very bratty, demeaning talk, bondage & restraints, explicit discussions around safewords (it does happen a little bit into the action but before anything major), pet name used for the reader "princess"

A/N: 4730 words. okay turns out i can write pwp. i cut out like 1.5k of background and you get the gist of it in the summary. there will be a part 2 thats heavy on the smut, but this trio takes a while to set anything up because they can't stop arguing. hints of farleigh/oliver. this was a lot of fun but again i can't stress how long its been since ive written full, proper smut, so id really appreciate feedback. <3 unedited, i love you.

{ masterpost : 1/2 }

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Fucking Farleigh Start. Oliver feels the fury as it burns and bubbles inside of him, stalking quietly through the halls of Saltburn. There, at the end of the hall, Farleigh's bedroom door, quiet and unassuming, and right next to it, Oliver's target; your door. Farleigh isn't the only one in the house who can wrap people around his little finger; he isn't the only one in the house who can get the Princess to kneel.

Trying the handle, he finds it unlocked, and eases the old, wooden door open.

"Farleigh was right," upon hearing your voice, bright, amused, and very much awake in the dark, Oliver jumps, "you're an A-plus lurker, I didn't even hear you come in."

"Was a nasty thing you did to me tonight," Oliver tries to regain some of his composure, some of the ire he'd built up on the way here.

"So you've snuck into my room, I assume you assumed I was asleep, to- what, wake me up and berate me?" There's something smug and biting in your voice, something that fuels the fury coiling deep in his gut, "that doesn't sound like enough for someone like you, tricksie, little, pauper boy." When you start to move from where you've been sitting up in bed, crawling to the end to sit on your knees as the moonlight streaks through your window and finally paints you in sharp relief, he sees you're already nude.

But even your stunning body in the moonlight cannot compare to the look on your face, the sharp, hungry, mean amusement he's never seen a person wear so well.

"Go on then, shout," your eyes shine dangerously in the moonlight; "don't you want Farleigh to hear?" They might have been right. You might be the devil. Your smile gets wider, and Oliver can only watch, rather transfixed, as you start rolling your hips with purpose, "or do you want him to hear something else?" He hears, quietly at first, a soft tap, getting louder as you keep insistently thrusting against the air, against the mattress, the sound of the bedframe hitting the wall behind it, the wall that you shared with Farleigh on the other side.

Then, all at once, you stopped. A loud, mean laugh is pulled from you as you pitch yourself back on the bed, kicking your legs out in front of you to hang off the edge, completely relaxed, completely exposed. You give a loud, amused sigh, looking up at the canopy of the four poster bed.

"God, you're such a little bitch, Oliver, Farleigh was so right," you snorted, "I was the one who actually saw you eating Venetia like your life depended on it, on the lawn of all places," you shook your head, "I don't know what you told Felix to get out of that one but I know what I saw," clicking your tongue, you raised your leg, pointing a foot at him, not even bothering to look at him, "now you won't even touch me in my own bedroom when I'm practically begging for it. I'm choosing to be offended about that; you've offended me, Oliver."

Slowly, your leg lowers, and you kick your heels idly against the end of the bed in the silence.

"Where do you get all your attitude from?" Oliver finally speaks, tone turning scornful as he approached you.

"The money," you fire back with ease, "which is why you always seem to have none." Then, in the furious silence that followed, you grinned sharply at the roof, still not bothering to look at him, "try harder."

When he touches your knee, his fingers gentle against your skin, you kick him hard in the thigh with your other foot -

"The fuck? Did you just kick me?"

"Yeah, and?" He can almost hear you rolling your eyes, "what did you think it was, the wind? Ghost of Grandma Catton?"

"Do you fuckin' want me or not?" He's still standing within kicking range, he learns too late. All the while you've never even looked at him, always looking at the ceiling, hands comfortably, casually behind your head. There's a smug grin on your lips now, something teasing and once more mean.

"Do you want me?" You respond, legs gliding open, an open invitation to your slick, moon-drenched cunt, "I thought you wanted to use me to get back at Farleigh," you said mockingly, finally looking up and meeting his deep, furious gaze. Propped up on your elbows, you give a grin that's all teeth, "wanted to show us who has the real power, that you can get us back for the stunt we pulled after dinner," you sat up further, intense, hungry amusement in your eyes that drew Oliver in to you, leaning in, his hands coming to rest on your thighs as you were almost nose to nose. Your voice lowers, gaze on his lips as your voice turns to almost a moan, "wanted to show Farleigh that you could take anything he thought was his; even me," and you start fake moaning, softly at first, but getting exponentially louder as you leaned back again, against the bed, arching and writhing from nothing, putting on a show that ended with you shouting - "Oliver's a fucking bitch!" At the top of your lungs, and cackling with glee.

Rage exploded within Oliver, and for a moment, overcome with a strange sense of betrayal at your demonstration, he smacks at your inner thigh with all the might he can muster. He can tell it stings, your laughter stops for just a moment, leg flinching up for just a second, but then you're laughing harder if possible.

"Your first mistake - of many - was letting her talk at all," Farleigh's voice from the door is frankly annoyed. You, however, gasp with delight, sitting directly up and looking at Farleigh with absolute glee.

"That's not his fault, I wasn't going to tell him," you pointed out, before looking down at your thighs, and Oliver's hands still on them, and the part of you that must have still stung from the slap, "why is your grip so soft?" You looked up at him with a derisive expression, and immediately Oliver's grip on you goes tight, nails digging into your skin; you're fucking laughing at him again, still, "awe, you're getting there -"

"Could you stop that already?" Oliver leans in, scowling at you. Eyebrows raising in mock surprise, you grinned with devilish intent.

"Stop what?"

"All that fuckin' talking you're doing."

"I don't know, can I -?" But then out of seemingly nowhere, Farleigh sits himself down at the end of the bed next to you, flush against your side. He's still in his crisp, white shirt, and black slacks, looking so put together next to your brash nudity. When his hand comes up to your jaw, barely two fingers beneath your chin to guide you, to have you looking him in the eyes, you have to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. Both he and Oliver can see how badly you want to laugh, to make any kind of sound, but you hold yourself back.

"Okay, your fucking highness," Farleigh's voice is low and dangerous, full of warning, and Oliver sees you take a sharp breath in, gaze fixed on Farleigh's, "you don't get shit from either of us if you can't keep your dirty mouth closed." Though you nod adamantly, you puff out your cheeks, amusement in your eyes as you're clearly desperate to say something; "what?" Farleigh frowns.

"I have really bad news for you about what I have to do to suck dick," you point out, trying to keep your composure. It's not working, giggles are escaping you at a rapid rate.

"You are testing nerves I didn't even know I had," Oliver admits, desperately trying to sink his nails into you as hard as he could. If he could draw blood, perhaps that would be enough penance for having to endure your infuriating company.

However, it's Farleigh who speaks, lip curling with frustration as he smacks Oliver's hand away from the thigh closest to him. With a solid grip on that thigh, he pulls you leg close to him, forcing your legs wider, exposing you further.

"Then do something about it," he practically orders, and something about the tone sparks a kind of indignation in his chest, "you need me to talk you through it?" He snaps. This, however, quickly turns smug and mean as Farleigh leans in, nose to nose with Oliver and his building frustration with them both; "you know how to eat pussy, right?"

"You should both be very careful what you wish for," Oliver's eyes flash with a dangerous confidence as he sank down on his knees between your legs. You, thrilled and delighted by how the situation was no unfolding, lay yourself back on the bed with contented laughter, hands coming to rest confidently behind your head once more.

Farleigh watches Oliver with intense scrutiny, and for reasons he's not quite sure of, Oliver meets his gaze, refuses to break eye contact. His hand moves first, no longer holding your left thigh, he digs his elbow into your soft inner thigh, bracing his arm against you, forcing your leg further open and keeping it that way, letting him comfortably rest his hand with his thumb on your clit.

"Smart boy," you hum appreciatively, shifting your hips back and forth a little as his thumb is rubbing circles against your clit, "knows where the start button is." He takes his thumb off of you, much to your confusion. His gaze is still locked with Farleigh's. "Fucking hell, are you tired already -?" You sat up on your elbows, scowling at him, but Oliver looks sharply to you.

"Weren't you listening to Farleigh, princess?" Oliver asks, and there's something so deliciously satisfying about the look of flustered surprise on your face in this moment. Beside you, Farleigh huffs a laugh to himself and stands, pulling off his tie. Oliver's full attention, however, is still trained on your. Slowly, as he speaks, he again begins to rub circles against your clit, teasing, never enough proper pressure to be satisfying.

"I -" you started, but he immediately stopped again; out of the corner of his eyes, Oliver sees Farleigh's approving nod. Something about this all has his blood rushing in his fucking ears. You press your lips together, giving him a now expectant look, as if here, I've done what you've asked.

You're so wet, so wanting, ready and waiting, right thigh inching closer, leg curling around him, heel pressing insistently into his back. God you look so fucking good, he wants nothing more than to eat you like a man starving, tasting every inch of you -

"Give me your belt," Farleigh interrupts, and Oliver pauses, mouth literally an inch from your cunt, looking up at Farleigh like he can't quite believe him right now.

"Farleigh!" You exclaim with utter frustration, right leg lashing out to kick him, but he grabs your ankle and holds it tightly. With his free hand he makes an expectant, grabby hand at Oliver.

"Belt, now please." He practically orders.

"Use your own belt, Farleigh," Oliver nods to the belt Farleigh had just tossed to the side of the room, and Farleigh gives him a thin, unamused smile.

"Mine's nicer, and I don't want your cum on it," he explained with a mean, humourless smile. Oliver sat back for a long, furious moment, undoing his belt. The minute his hands were off of you, you tried to whine, but Farleigh, now just in his boxers, sat further up the bed beside you.

"This is overkill, I'll be good," you pouted, twisting to lay your head on his thigh, looking up at him with as pleading eyes as you could manage.

"You're not even being good right now," he pointed out; "both your thighs are over Oliver's fucking shoulders, and you haven't gone thirty seconds without saying something," but clearly you're pleased and flustered at being called out. Farleigh says your name more insistently, and you try and play innocent before he practically orders, "get your fucking legs off of him!" Like he can't quite believe you're still trying these tricks, even though you both seem comfortable in this dynamic.

"Oliver~" Farleigh then practically sings like a warning, gaze turning much colder as it falls back on Oliver himself, "where are we with that belt?"

"What's it for anyways?" Oliver finally pulls his belt free, awkwardly half throwing it to Farleigh, who does actually thank him, before his attention is back on you, bare and warm and wet and - "princess," he says suddenly before Farleigh can even answer his initial question, looking up, and you make a noise of acknowledgement, "you want me to touch you like I mean it, then keep your legs spread like you actually fucking want it," voice going low and sharp, immediately you widen your legs as best you can.

"Oh, he's good," Farleigh says, surprisingly appreciatively, watching as Oliver makes a meal of you.

Finally, finally, Oliver's mouth is on you, tongue gliding playfully along your slit, his nose continually bumping his thumb as it continues to work your clit, firmer this time. You hips wriggle and roll with him, desperate for more, growing frustrated with his teasing lightness.

"The belt can be for several things," Farleigh began, matter-of-factly as he began to loop the belt through itself, focusing on his task at hand, "if she insists on closing her legs, I'm not above using both belts to make sure she keeps them open - this bedframe's especially good for that -" a hot spike of desire passes through Oliver all at once, picturing you bound and open and begging -

"Oh, don't joke about that Farleigh, come on, you know I love that -" you actually whimpered, but Oliver, still keeping in mind the earlier warning, once more stops entirely. You gasp, as if betrayed, before remembering for yourself, actually whining, "you guys fucking suck," you whimper petulantly. For a moment, Oliver wonders if he really aught to be here, if this strange, psychosexual encounter was really worth it.

"You're fucking loving this," Farleigh countered without a moment of hesitation, saying it with such confidence that it almost surprised Oliver, "you just hate that you can't shut the fuck up for any amount of time, and that Oliver isn't actually as much of a little bitch as you thought," clearing his throat, Farleigh cast an evaluative look, before trying to shrug it off nonchalantly, "as either of us thought, I guess."

A moment of quiet stillness passes, and Oliver looks to you, face scrunched up with embarrassment, as all of Farleigh's words apparently rang true.

"Are you hourly, Oliver?" Farleigh then scowls, much to Oliver's confusion. Farleigh looks at him like he's a downright idiot, "the princess is actually being quiet, which means..." he trailed off pointedly. Oliver sat back on his heels, frowning at Farleigh for a long moment, his hands coming to rest on your knees. You, yet again growing incredibly unsatisfied, groaned into your hands.

"Not if you're gonna talk to me like that," Oliver takes a deep breath, sitting tall, gaze unflinching as he meets Farleigh's sneering gaze.

"Then fuck off, Little Orphan Ollie, we don't need you," he spits, "you should really feel lucky that you even got this far -"

"You're all talk, Farleigh," Oliver, with a newfound confidence, and his hands on you, rubbing small, gentle circles against your inner thighs with his thumbs. Farleigh's eyes narrow, but Oliver's smile turns knowing, "I know you can throw her around, and tie her up, and give her orders, clearly," he tips his head ever so slightly to the side, gaze slipping to you, to where you've still got your face covered by your hands, "but we both know no-one can speak for her, but her."

The faint, frustrated whimpering that had been escaping you this entire time goes dead silent. Oliver feels the way you go very still. Farleigh, realising what Oliver meant, also turned to look at you properly.

"'s your bedroom, princess," Oliver leans in, presses a kiss to your inner thigh, murmuring softly against your skin, "what do you think?"

"I think you're edging each other with psychosexual, power-play, bullshit-banter that's doing fucking nothing for me," you snap behind your hands, "and I'm gonna start kicking people again very soon," you warned. Farleigh rolled his eyes.

"Sit up," he sighed.

"No."

"Make a choice," Oliver told you, tone firmer this time.

"Also no." Your voice was sounding particularly petulant, and you even brought your knees together, closing yourself off in front of Oliver. After a long, vaguely irate silence, Farleigh takes a deep breath.

"Is something wrong? Are we at a yellow light? Red light?" He asks, tone far gentler, he leans over, fingers gentle against your hairline by your fingertips.

"Light... colours?" Oliver asks with genuine confusion. Farleigh is far less patient when he turns on Oliver, like he's frustrated to even be explaining this.

"Like a traffic light; instead of a safety word like pineapple, we have green - go, yellow - slow down, red - stop," said like he wanted to include duh, obviously on the end, but refrained, turning back to you.

"And... they're for her?" Intrigued and surprisingly endeared by the concept, Oliver leans forward with a little smile, resting his chin on one of your knees, looking between yourself and Farleigh. He watches you sigh, even with your hands over your face.

"How do you not know how safe words work? What kind of sex have you been having?" Farleigh's judgemental tone hits Oliver square in the chest, but before he can even answer, you finally sit up, expression wide and overwhelmed with frustration.

"Farleigh look at him; he's like if they made repression a person! He's been having the most boring, vanilla sex known to man - if any - and getting off in his spare time to things that would make God cry. Look him in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong -" Farleigh's gaze flicked to Oliver, who suddenly felt himself begin to flush scarlet, and had to sit back again, frowning at his hands. There was something about the shame at being so concisely called out that was... thrilling. Something about how clearly you could see through him, through his persona to the raw want at his very core, it was freeing. You sat up further, with purpose, grabbing Oliver's chin so roughly it shocked him, forcing him to look in your eyes for a long moment.

"You came in here with purpose thinking I was asleep; creepy, hot, deranged; I'm into it," you told him sternly, "I literally could not care less about you otherwise, you're nothing to me the rest of the time. You came here to put me in my place, I don't want you here if you can't do that." Fucking hell, Oliver can feel his heartbeat racing as you shove his face away, your expression almost bordering on disgust.

"So you're..." Farleigh, as if frustrated by this little tirade you saw fit to go on, was unimpressed as he once more checked in.

"Green light, obviously," you threw your hands into the air in exasperation, "it's like you've never met me before -" but before you can slump back against the bed like you so clearly wanted to, Farleigh catches you, shifts behind you to prop you up.

"You're a brat," Oliver says, finally finding the words for the dynamic, and rather charmed by it all. Still, Farleigh has to get a word in edgewise.

"How long 'd it take you to figure that out?" He muttered sarcastically, doing something behind your back while you made a show of struggling and wiggling, refusing to keep your left arm with whatever he was doing.

"So," Oliver clarified, testing out the code, "green light?" You grinned at him, giving a pleased nod. Farleigh, finally having caught your left hand seemingly for good, reiterates the statement distractedly. Then, with a sense of triumph and relief, he pulls the belt, and his makeshift handcuffs, tight.

"Why are you still dressed?" You ask Oliver sharply. You may have had a point, but the game was back on. With your hands secured, Farleigh sat back behind you on the bed, pulling you flush to him, arms secured and pressed between the two of you that was just edging on uncomfortable.

"Why are you still talking?" He mutters into your ear, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, one hand coming to wrap over your mouth, while his other curled around your middle, pulling your legs apart, wasting no time in dipping two long, elegant fingers into you. Your eyes light up, gasping against his hand as the two of you watch with lust in your eyes as Oliver begins to undress.

"The belt," Farleigh's voice has that lazy kind of smugness that Oliver usually hated, but now kind of makes his head fuzzy and kind of like he wants to sink his teeth into him, "is to keep the princess in her place, because someone," he says pointedly, not that you seem to notice; your eyes are closed, and Farleigh's thumb is on your clit while the fingers he has inside of you curl lovingly into your sweet spot, "manages to escape every pair of padded handcuffs either of us have ever bought," he explains, turning his attention back to Oliver, "and she complains about metal handcuffs, and zip ties, has undone every rope knot I've ever tied, and ruined every single tie I've ever tried to tie her up with."

"I bought you new ones," your voice is faint, half a moan muffled behind Farleigh's hand, and Oliver, still unsure of how to respond to any of that, finally turns back to the two of you on the bed. There's something desperate about the way you're arching against Farleigh's firm hold on you, legs having fallen open as your hips rolled in time with his fingers, lewd and needy. But Farleigh's eyes are only on Oliver, watching him with hunger in his eyes, pupils blown wide, gaze roaming over Oliver's physique.

At the sound of your voice, Farleigh's gaze meets Oliver's his smile widening just a touch before he stops entirely. A desperate keening is pulled from you, hips shifting for friction, for anything, as Farleigh rests his hand on your thigh, fingers slick, practically dripping with you.

"No, I'll be good," you whimper, eyes fluttering, half closed, "I'll be -" you were already breathing heavy, "so so good."

"Hear that?" Farleigh murmurs with a vindictive little smile, hand uncovering your mouth, moving to hold your chin, your mouth falling open in a moan as his nails scratch up your thighs. Oliver advances on you both, entranced by the sight of you both, desperate to have a taste, to play along.

"Think she even knows how to be good?" Oliver teases, once more between your thighs. Still, instead of giving you the same kind of proper relief that Farleigh had been offering, he starts out gentle once more.

"Oliver, you're so cruel," you whimper. Farleigh's hand moves from your jaw to wrap around your middle, holding you secure, while the hand that had sat on your thigh moves to your open mouth, Oliver watches, rapt, as he slides both slick digits past your lips, but it shuts you up well enough, lips closing on his fingers as you diligently lap up your own taste from him.

"See, can't trust a word she says," Farleigh purrs. You bite gently on his fingers as you moan, Oliver finally deciding to do more than just tease you. Oliver's fingers are shorter than Farleigh's, but damn if they can't still hit the same high notes. Curling and pressing in a steady rhythm, he alternates dipping his tongue in as much as he can, and circling your clit. Farleigh's hand has moved from your mouth, spit slicked fingers pinching at your nipples, lightly dragging his nails across your skin, while he's started rolling his hips against your back, cock unbearably hard and still confined to his boxers, pressed against you.

You're whimpering and moaning in his ear, straining against your handcuffs, arching, writhing, but Oliver's holding your thighs still and secure and Farleigh is captivated by how enthusiastically he's going down on you, how its shining on his cheeks, his nose - he reaches out, cards his fingers through Oliver's hair. Oliver looks up through his lashes, a fucking gorgeous sight that you're too lost to appreciate. Just for Farleigh.

God he could say something snide, something about sloppy seconds or something about this being the most expensive meal he'll ever have, but he doesn't. He gives a sly, approving smile, and his grip on Oliver's hair tightens.

"Teeth and tongue," he tells Oliver quietly. Oliver doesn't seem to get it at first, but you choke out a whine, arching further into Farleigh, tipping your head against his.

"That's cheating," you gasped, but Farleigh kept running his fingers through Oliver's hair, whose mouth had never left your cunt, nor his eyes Farleigh's face, "you're helping him cheat; you want me to cum this early?"

"You know what's cheating?" Farleigh once more grabbed your chin, angling your head so you could watch Oliver working hard to get you off, "look at him," Farleigh murmurs in your ear, "eyes open, on his," the commanding tone was hard to refuse, and your eyes fluttered open; the fucking sight of him, a mess between your legs, Farleigh's hand in his hair, was almost enough to send you over the edge, "tell him what I mean."

"Gentle- uh, gentle teeth on me- on my-" you desperately tried to string two words together as Oliver began to get more of an idea. Farleigh's hand on his head becoming more insistent, firmer, nose pressed firm against your skin when he finally took the hint, focusing on your clit, sucking and lapping at it, teeth gently teasing as you completely lost the ability to speak. The rhythm of his fingers was consistent and firm throughout it all, pressing just right -

"Keep your fucking eyes on him," Farleigh ordered, almost snarling it into your ear, "I want you to watch Oliver Quick make you cum." But Oliver had eyes only for him, feeling you clench around his fingers, thighs pressing desperately against his shoulder and the hand that had kept them apart, he could feel Farleigh's nails on his scalp and see the heady, smug pride in his eyes.

As you start to come down, breathing hard and heavy and leaning all your weight against Farleigh, you giggle with out of breath contentment.

"Princess's got not manners," Oliver shook his head with an air of disappointment, and Farleigh smirked, brushing some hair from Oliver's forehead before he reached up and tapped your cheek gently.

"Say thank you, Oliver."

"Thank you, Oliver," you grinned, tone surprisingly sincere, as Oliver crawled up onto the bed beside you both. But there's something dark and hungry in his eyes as he watched you both; reaching out, he presses the fingers against Farleigh's lips, your cum coating them like syrup. Farleigh is more than happy to lick them clean, tongue dancing lewdly around Oliver's digits, all kinds of inuendo and promise in his eyes.

Then, Oliver's attention turns on you something dark, hungry, almost deranged in his eyes. He takes your face in hand.

"And you, princess," he says derisively, not even respecting you enough to look you in the eyes in this moment, "this is not your place that I am putting you in," god it almost sounds like a threat, but you're already squirming with want and anticipation, "but we'll get there," he squeezes your cheeks and your mouth opens on command, tongue as pink and wet and desperate as your cunt had been. He spits in your mouth, sudden sneer curling his lip, blue eyes ice cold and demeaning; "and it's thank you, Oliver Quick."

You feel fucking filthy, can taste yourself in his spit.

You want him to do it again.

"Thank you, Oliver Quick."

{ part two here }

#saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #farleigh start x reader #farleigh x reader #farleigh start imagine #farleigh imagine #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x farleigh start #oliver quick smut #farleigh start smut #farleigh smut #farleigh start x reader x oliver quick #farleigh x reader x oliver #manic writer

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cieloclercs · 2 months

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what would you say (if i told you i love you)? — charles leclerc

PART: 7/7 (read part 6 here)

summary. in which childhood best friends blur the lines between what they’ve always known, and something more

warnings. angsty but with a lil catharsis at the end (yes it’s a happy ending i’m too weak to keep the angst up 😔) swearing as per, your bestie and charles SCHEMING, y/n being a teenyyy bit annoying but it’s fine she’s heartbroken we accept it 😚

pairing. charles leclerc x artsy!reader

face claim. tara michelle

author’s note. FINAL PART!! it’s been a long time coming (sorry about that sixth form’s been kicking my ass 😔) but thank you to everyone that has been interacting with this series! i love and appreciate you all sooooo much!! 🫶 anywaysss i hope you guys enjoy the finale of what would you say (if i told you i love you)? 💗

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f1gossip BREAKING! Charles Leclerc and Y/F/N, best friend of Y/N Y/L/N spotted together in Monaco! Do we smell a backstabber? 👀

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username yourfriend stop trying to play innocent we all now you’re a fake backstabbing skank 🤮

username username if you can’t think for yourself without trusting everything the TABLOIDS tell you then just do us all a favour and shut the fuck up 🥰

yourusername

seen by charles_leclerc and 21,673 others

responses:

yourfriend thank you, y/n

liked by formula1updates and 22,736 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc spotted with a HUGE bouquet of flowers outside Y/N Y/L/N’s apartment in Monaco! Is reconciliation on the cards? 👀

view all comments…

username OH MY GOD IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING

username CODE RED 🚨🚨 THIS IS NOT A DRILL GUYS I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL

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username after all of what? a bouquet of flowers? he needs to try a bit harder than that 🙄

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arthur_leclerc FINALLY

username ARTHUR 😭

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username he’s so us

username he stans charlesy/n just as much as we do 🫶

one week later…

liked by charles_leclerc and 647,937 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername i’d say i love you too ❤️‍🩹

view all comments…

charles_leclerc thank you for giving me a second chance, mon amour ❤️

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yourfriend you’re welcome guys ☺️

arthur_leclerc DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT

arthur_leclerc ELEVEN FUCKING YEARS

arthur_leclerc I DESERVE COMPENSATION FOR EVERY TIME I’VE HAD TO LISTEN TO YOU TWO PINE OVER EACH OTHER BUT NEVER DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT

yourusername way to expose us arth 😔

charles_leclerc sorry? 😃

username CRYING ARTHUR IS SO DONE WITH THEIR SHIT

username arthur is the true winner in this situation 😭

username bless his poor charlesy/n heart 😔

username yourusername charles_leclerc LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO THE POOR MAN. YOU’VE BROKEN HIM

joris_trouche it’s about damn time

yourusername ok lizzo

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username ok but did you NEED to put us through all that pain? 😅

username it’s called character building bestie! we survived the charlesy/n friendship breakup so now we can get through anything! 😃

username the first picture 🥹🥹

leclerc_pascale Ma belle future fille / my beautiful future daughter 💗😉

charles_leclerc maman 🤦‍♂️

arthur_leclerc just propose already you’ve been saying you want to marry her since you were sixteen

charles_leclerc ARTHUR

yourusername CRYING 😭

yourfriend ARTHUR YOU DID NOT 😭😭

username IM SCREAMING ARTHUR WHY WOULD YOU EXPOSE HIM LIKE THAT

username poor charles can’t say anything without arthur exposing him 😔

landonorris i better be invited to the wedding 😏

carlossainz55 me too! 😘

charles_leclerc absolutely not.

yourusername landonorris carlossainz55 ignore him! of course you’re invited 😃

scuderiaferrari Our favourite couple ❤️

yourusername 🥰🫶

username even ferrari’s a charlesy/n fan

scuderiaferrari username *Biggest fan 😉

lorenzotl congrats to my favourite sibling (and charles) 😚

yourusername love you enzo ☺️💕

charles_leclerc rude??? 😒

username i love how they left us in suspense for a whole week after that gossip post and only NOW decided to confirm it ☺️☺️

username ROLL THE DAMN CREDITS.

taglist: @cxcewg @incoherenciass @formula1mount @allywthsr @meabhcavanagh @driveswiftly13 @zzblooda @gaslysainz @be-your-coffee-pot @siovhanroy @hwienv @xoxozoedagyal @alireads27 @glow-ish @eviethetheatrefreak @nmw-am @buendiabebeta @laneyspaulding19 @imthebadguyyy @marialovesf1 @f1wintermoon13 @topaz125 @aundercover @sainzluvrr @sunny44 @justdreamersdream @lordperceval-16 @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @midnightappleade @remuslupinsbitch @taylorslovesswifties13 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lillianacristina @lifeless-firefly @bbygrlllllll @405rry @1655clean @drthymby @ang-26 @dhe3reads @mishaandthebrits @caitdaniels @missenclod @lovely-blackinnon @smnthnclj @sofs16 @dark-night-sky-99 @c3leste888 @christcat @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @cixrosie

thank you all so much for the love on this series! i’m going to miss it 🥲

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itsallyscorner · 11 months

Text

Coffee Talk | H.S

pairing: boyfriend!Harry x fem!reader

warnings: it’s supposed to be like a podcast episode so it’s a little long and has a lot of dialogue—just did some experimenting, lmk what you guys think :)

overview: Harry is a guest on your podcast.

a/n: Clearly, I’ve been listening/watching a lot of podcasts. I just like hearing people talk. Reader’s co-host, Mable, is inspired by Selena Gomez <3

Coffee Talk Ep. 96: (Y/n)‘s Boyfriend, Hobama, and Marriage

“Hello friends and welcome back to another episode of Coffee Talk! I’m your host, (Y/n), and I hope you are all doing well!” You waved at the camera doing your usual intro.

You did a drumroll with your hands on the table and continued, “Now, we have an exciting episode for you guys today. You have been asking—basically begging—for us to get this person on the pod and it’s finally happening today! So grab a blanket, get some snacks, and get comfortable, because this is gonna be a fun one!”

The video cuts to your co-host, Mable, who is sitting across from you on a loveseat.

“I feel like we should build the tension before we tell them who it is.” Mabel chimes in, stirring her Starbucks cup (whose label has been covered since you guys aren’t sponsored by Starbies).

“That was a really good segue for Roll Call, Mae.” You pointed out, calling her by her nickname.

“I gotchu, babe.” Mable assured you, throwing a wink in your direction. You laughed and adjusted your legs up on the couch you were on, “Right, so obviously, we have Mable across from me. How are ya, Mae? What’s the coffee order today?”

Mable smiled at you and crossed her legs, “Well since you asked so kindly. I’m doing very great this morning (y/n/n) and I have a caramel macchiato today.”

The video then cuts to Ryland who had a “bitch please” look on his face, “Mable’s only happy because she got laid last night.”

“RYLAND!” Mable screamed in shock, the video cutting to her reaction. The room erupted with laughter as she flipped him off and let empty threats stumble out of her lips at Ryland.

“YOU LITERALLY TEXTED IT IN THE GROUP CHAT!” Ryland stressed, leaning over the table to get closer to Mable. The video moved to you taking a long sip of your coffee while a familiar tattooed arm rested behind you on the couch.

“Clearly, the energy is through the roof today in the pod—we’ll probably get to Mable’s sex life in a bit.” You paused, smirking at your friend, “But back to roll call, we’ve got Ryland on cameras and sound. Ryland, how are you pookie?”

Ryland posed at the camera in front of him and waved wildly at it, “I’m doing swell stinkabutt.”

“What’s your coffee order today—actually Ryland doesn’t have coffee today, he has juice.” You explained to your listeners. Ryland held up his green juice, “Yeah, I’m on a juice cleanse everyone. Me and Sean are going to Aruba in a few weeks and I refuse to work out, so I’m drinking juice instead.”

“You look great Ry.” A voice off camera chimed in. The voice had a distinct accent that could only belong to a specific someone. Ryland smiled at the person, “Thanks Ha—wait I was just about to spoil who it was.” He immediately clasped his hand over his mouth with wide eyes.

“Y’know what, we’ve made you guys wait long enough.” You sighed before continuing, “Our guest is very special to me. He’s a recent Grammy winner, one of the biggest artists in the world, and he happens to be my boyfriend; please welcome to the pod mister Harry Styles!” You cheered, causing everyone in the room to clap. The video finally cut to Harry who was sat next you on a blush pink couch nursing a pastel yellow mug.

Harry adorable scrunched his nose and waved at you all bashfully, “Oh, stop it.”

“How does it feel to be on the pod, Harry?” You asked, turning your body towards him. Harry nodded and looked around the room, “I’m happy to be here, love, thanks f’having me. Also, I like what you’ve guys done to our shed, s’very comfy.”

“I totally forgot we were in your shed.” Ryland chuckled.

“Oh yeah, to everyone listening or watching, we’ve been filming this podcast in Harry and (Y/n)’s backyard.” Mable explained to the audience with a chuckle.

“It’s not a problem honestly, I’m glad you guys are getting some use out of it.” Harry assured you all as he glanced at the decorations around the room. There was an old school looking blush couch in the center of the room, which was across from a burnt mustard colored love seat. While the walls were painted a darker shade of matcha green with fairy lights strung along it.

Harry was seen glancing at the rug as he toed at it with his socked foot. “Where’d y’get the rug?” He asked you.

You peeked at said rug, “Your mom picked it out when she was helping me furniture shop here.” Harry’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape as he leaned back into the cushion, one of his legs crossed beneath him and the other hung off the couch.

“So Harold, what’s the coffee order today?” You motioned to his coffee. He proudly held the yellow mug up and smiled at the camera, “I’ve got my usual black coffee, courtesy of my lovely girlfriend.”

The camera panned to you hiding behind your Starbucks cup trying to hide your heated cheeks.

“And what do you have today, love?” Harry returned the question, naturally fitting into the conversation. You looked at the label on your cup, “I have my usual coffee order—H actually went out on a coffee run for me and Mable, so thank you bubs.” You answered, the corners of your mouth quirked up.

“They make me sick.” Ryland fake gagged.

“Aren’t you also in a relationship?” Mable narrowed her eyes at him. Ryland rolled his eyes at her, “Yeah, but they make me sick in a good way, like the wholesomeness is just too much.”

“What the fuck..”

Harry grinned at Ryland, “Y’gonna be fuckin’ puking by the time we’re done then.”

The camera cut to Mable smirking at you, “I find it so weird how you’re being so quiet.”

“Me?” You pointed at yourself amusingly. Harry glanced at you and visibly scooted closer to you. The sound of equipment being moved can be heard over the audio since Harry attempted to discreetly move his mic stand next to yours.

“Yes ma’am.” Mable nodded. You placed your cup on the round coffee table beside you.

“I don’t know why, but it just settled in that this is us, kind of like hard launching our relationship to the public.” You softly answered, hands fiddling with your (Harry’s) loose knitted sweater.

“But everyone knows you guys are together.” Ryland stated, confusion etched on his features. Harry rose his hand to answer. You giggled at him and nudged his arm, “You don’t need to raise your hand to speak, hun.”

“Sorry.” He shook his head.

“Don’t be.” You chuckled, allowing Harry to continue. “Everyone knows, but we haven’t been very public, y’know? We like keeping things between us. Like, this is the most public we’ve ever been.” He gestures to you guys sitting beside each other.

You chimed in jokingly, “Yeah, this is our first time sitting next to each other—like ever.”

Harry nodded along, “I’m shitting m’pants right now.” He stated, causing a few chuckles in the room.

“How much persuasion did it take for (Y/n) to get you on the pod?” Mable asked Harry, sipping her coffee. Harry’s brows furrowed as he stared at the ceiling.

“Not much. She asked and I was like—yeah, I’m down.” He answered, shrugging his shoulders for emphasis. You chuckled at him and added, “He’s forgetting the part when he admitted that he’s been waiting for me to ask him to guest star.”

“Have you really been waiting?” Ryland questioned your boyfriend. Harry’s brows raised as he exclaimed, “Yes! I bloody have! You guys literally had my sister on here before me!”

You all laughed at his slight frustration, “I swear it wasn’t on purpose!” The camera cuts to you and Harry, your hand squeezing his knee.

“Wait so did you guys meet through Harry’s sister?” Mable asked you both, she then was quick to add, “If you guys don’t mind me asking!”

You waved her off to assure her it was fine.

“We met through his stylist Harry Lambert.” You began before pointing to the camera, “Shout out to Lamby by the way!” Harry followed suit and instead waved at the camera with a lopsided grin.

“Anyway, Lamby and I know each other through work. We’re under the same company and we do similar things, etc. One day he invited me to come out to one of H’s shows, I didn’t have anything better to do, so I decided to go.”

“We met before the show though, remember?” Harry gently interjected, using his arm behind you to tap your shoulder. You nodded, “Yeah we did, I was fortunate enough to meet him before he went out on stage and we got on really well—“

You looked at Harry, “We probably spent about five minutes talking, right?”

“Yeh, it was pretty quick. I don’t know if you felt it at first, but like—Y’know that feeling when you kinda just know a person is gonna have some kind of impact on y’life?” Harry wondered aloud, hands waving around to try and get his point across. Mable and Ryland nodded, making sounds of agreement.

“It was like that and I thought about it the entire time I was on stage. After that everything seemed to fall into place and the rest was history.” Harry finished, smacking his hand on his leg. Ryland was the first to speak, “So after the concert did you try to always come up with an excuse to go to his shows or did you try to persuade Harry Lambert to invite (Y/n) more often?” Ryland pointed between the couple in front of him.

You and Harry stared at each other, his brow raised at you while your eyes squinted at his. Harry stuck his pointer finger out, “Well I got her number after, so I didn’t have to make any excuses for her to be at my shows. I’d invite her, she’d come and watch, then we would hang out after. Sometimes when we were in the same place, we would meet up too.”

“I’m assuming this went on for months?” Mable looked between you and Harry.

“Yeah, but the thing is, he was touring and I was working. So we had to be in different places all the time.” You clarified. Harry picked off where you left, “We managed to make it work though, I don’t think either of us were going to give up that easily.”

The video caught you and Harry gazing into each other’s eyes momentarily.

“Absolutely.” You agreed, scrunching your nose at him, similar to what he did earlier. Mable pouted at the two of you, “You guys are so cute.”

Harry quietly thanked her as he situated himself on the couch again. While Mable and Ryland gushed about how much you guys were “goals”, the famous singer got even more comfortable on the couch. He placed his mug down and leaned his body against your side, he softly took your arm and held it against his chest so you were holding him. He leaned the mic lower so it was closer to him and was mindful of where his feet was to avoid bumping his mug on the floor.

“I’m just curious, but what are like the weirdest rumors have you guys heard about yourselves?” Ryland asked, moving the conversation along.

“I don’t have any.” Mable shrugged.

“Maybe that guy last night can share some, should we call him?” You sang, jokingly pulling out your phone. Mable groaned and slapped her forehead with her palm, “I hate the both of you.”

“I’ve heard stuff about us, but I really think this rumor would be more fun to talk about.” You pondered. Harry shifted his head on your chest to look up at you, “Wha’ rumor?”

The corner of your lip turned into a smirk as you simply said, “Hobama.”

Harry suddenly threw his head back and bursted out laughing.

“Like President Obama?” Ryland screamed in shock, his brows raised to his forehead.

“I honestly don’t know how it started. It randomly popped up on the tabloids and followed me around for years—till this day, might I add!” Harry tried to clarify.

“I feel like it got even worse when Graham asked you about it.” You chuckled, fingers mindlessly playing with Harry’s brunette curls.

“What did Graham ask?” Mable leaned towards the couple.

“He asked if it was true that I had a sexual relationship or affair with Obama—I knew they were gonna ask me about it prior to the show being filmed. But at the time I was like fuck it and just went along w’it.” Harry started, “I didn’t know that it would become an actual thing.” He deadpanned, sending a look at the camera.

“Have there been any Hobama signs at any of your recent shows?” Ryland squinted his eyes at Harry.

“Not a one.” Harry paused, “But after this episode airs, I wouldn’t be surprised if I see a couple in the crowds.”

Mable crossed her arms, “Your shows are very interesting—in a good way—of course.”

“Thank you.” Harry grinned, “Yeh, we’ve got a lot of things going on. Every night it’s like a giant sleep over with a bunch of friends. We sing songs, we dance—“

“Trauma dumping!” Ryland interjected excitedly. Harry gestured to the man opposite him, “Right, we do therapy sessions.”

“Don’t forget the gender reveals, proposals, and helping them come out.” You continued to list, Harry nodding his head at every thing you said.

“Harry’s like a Swiss Army knife, he just does everything.” Mable joked. Ryland sighed and rested his chin in his palm, “You’re so talented.”

“You’re better at controlling cameras and all the sound equipment than me.” Harry acknowledged, raising a brow at him. Ryland snapped his finger at the Brit, “You’re so right, thank you, Harry.”

Harry placed his hand on his heart, “I gotcha man.” You then raised your hand, catching Harry’s attention, “Yes, m’love?”

“Can I just say how proud I am of you and like how insanely successful the tour has been?” You sat up, making Harry sit up as well. He remained close to you, wrapping his arm back around your shoulder. Though your statement made him pout at you, “Y’make my heart feel fuzzy.”

Mable and Ryland audibly awed at the both of you.

“No! Like seriously, it makes me so proud to see how much of a safe space your concert is to all you fans and anyone who steps foot into those shows.” You placed your hand on his tattooed arm and gave it a small squeeze. “I don’t think you realize how much of an impact you make on people’s lives, like we all appreciate you so much and I just wanted to remind you of that.” You shrugged, shrinking into your own shoulders.

“C’mere.” Harry said dragging out his words as he pulled you into a hug, this time he held you and your head was tucked into the crook of his neck. Instead of letting you go, Harry helped you get comfortable in his arms.

“While we’re at it, I just wanted to say how much fun I’m having right now. Thank you guys for having me” Harry gestured to Mable and Ryland across from him then turned to you, “And thank you to you for allowing me to be in your workspace and sharing it with me. You’ve always supported me throughout everything and now I finally get to support you and your craft, so thank you for trusting me to be here.”

Now it was your turn to pout, though there was a twinkle in you eye, “Thank you, H.” You hummed as Harry pecked your temple.

“I’m rooting so hard for you guys, you have no idea.” Mable said from her seat, the camera cut to Ryland who agreed.

“Yeh, I guess we like each other a lot.” Harry joked. You smiled softly at him.

“I don’t wanna intrude but is there a possible wedding in the future?” Ryland asked. It was silent between you and Harry, the both of you staring at each other before answering.

“I think so, I have some pretty high hopes.” You answered. Harry made a sound of agreement, “I think when everything calms down we’ll figure it out, but without a doubt it’s definitely in the cards.”

Harry let out a small chuckle and added, “Let me release the fourth album and then I’ll put a ring on it.”

The camera cut to you blushing with wide eyes, clearly taken off guard by your boyfriend’s comment. Mable and Ryland were quick to react, sending you teasing looks and screaming “oooo”.

The corner of Harry’s mouth lifted into a smirk, turning his head to look at you he asked, “How’s that sound?”

You scrunched your nose (adorably, Harry might add) and pretended to put some thought into it.

“Sounds like a plan, but on one condition.”

Harry’s brows raised as he waited for you to continue.

“You have to release Medicine.” You said, Harry caught on to your banter and feigned an annoyed sigh, “Babe, we’ve talked about this.”

“Fine, then can we get a puppy?”

“Of course we can, darling, we’ll have one by tomorrow morning.” Harry jested, sounding incredibly posh.

You turned to the camera apologetically and spoke directly to your boyfriend’s fans, “Sorry guys, I tried.”

Though in reality, you knew that Harry would release Medicine in a heartbeat if you asked him to.

#Harry Styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles headcannon #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry edward styles #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles drabble #Harry Styles

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