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sykosomatic · 2 years ago

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So here is my third idea…a bit longer and darker but I hope you like it

So it starts right where part 2 ended…Evan and his new love interest are enjoying their food and flirting a little….Evan asks what brought reader over and asks semi seriously if he is that irresistible and gets a slight laugh in response

Evan then decides to play his answer machine and gets the same messages from the film as he admires his watch…reader is playing with the heating …..turning it and asks if he should be jealous Evan points out if he haven’t called them back no…

Reader comments how it’s getting really hot in here and maybe they need to cool off so they decide to head to the shower more flirting as they start to make out in the shower

Then they notice the temperature of the water starting to grow warmer and scalding …..they turning it off but it won’t work and the door is jammed…they start panicking/blaming each other as they desperately try to get out

Evan eventually smashes his way out by just shouldering the glass till it breaks ….later they are in Evans bedroom putting ice packs on each other as they apologise for turning on each other and they kiss with Evan asking what is happening Reader settles down with him on the bed and says he doesn’t know but he will find out

obvouvou;u they are going to stick together

what do you think ?

you've always got really creative ideas -- this fic would've been a one-shot without you lol -- let's see if you like the next installment! here we go--!

part 3 of evan lewis x male reader escaping death -- lovingly entitled 'luck of the draw' on ao3 --

cw: near-death experience, anxiety, making out, groping.

evan joined you at the little dining table, taking a seat and passing your food to you once it was all cooked. the entire little apartment smelled like rich, savory noodles; it was nice. this was the most at ease you'd felt since you'd met evan. that fact made you feel a little guilty. it wasn't as if you thought it was evan's fault, and you sure weren't gonna stop hanging out with him just over some silly superstitions you were having. you'd never been one to really believe in such things; but you couldn't deny the extreme relief you felt when you'd prevented whatever had been destined to happen. it gave you almost a sense of responsibility to stay and help him, to keep him safe from whatever power-that-be was hell-bent on hurting him. why evan, you found yourself thinking, of all people? and why you, sent to be his savior?

"so, uh…what brought you back here?" evan asked, after swallowing a bite of his food. he looked at you with an eyebrow raised. just as you were about to answer him and let him know about the strange feeling you'd been having, he smirked at you and continued speaking. "am i that irresistible?"

you laughed, rolling your eyes at his goofy expression. you decided to maybe bring up your weird feeling later. or maybe, not at all? after all you didn't even know if it was founded; maybe you were just having a weird week. maybe you needed to go back to that therapist you'd been seeing a while back.

"oh-- i forgot," evan said, reaching over and pressing a button on his answering machine. some messages from girls started to play, making you feel a little embarrassed. mainly for them; they sounded pretty desperate to get their hands on some of that money evan had just won from the lottery. you watched evan admire the watch he'd gotten the day before; fiddling with the latch as you stood up and cleared your throat awkwardly. you decided to busy yourself by absently messing with the thermostat, unable to find the remote to his tv and feeling that messing with your phone might've come off as rude.

"should i be jealous?" you asked evan, playfully, but also eyeing him a bit warily. he was a cocky guy, and the two of you hadn't said anything about being mutually exclusive just yet-- or ever, in that case. and he was entitled to do whatever he wanted, whether it be calling these women back or not.

"well, i mean, i haven't called them back yet, have i?" he pointed out. he finally looked up from his shiny new watch and looked over at you, reaching over to start deleting the messages. you grinned to yourself, turning the heat down a tad more. it had started getting a little hotter in the small apartment; it was freaking you out a bit. the thermostat said a cool 65 degrees fahrenheit once you were done messing with it. it shouldn't have felt so hot in there, right?

maybe you'd worked yourself up over evan's other potential lovers. you weren't really the jealous type; not outwardly, of course.

"hey, you wanna hop in the shower really quick?" you asked, crossing over to the dining table again. you put your arms around evan's shoulders from behind, leaning in and nibbling playfully on his ear. "it's getting kinda hot in here, don't you think? maybe we should cool off…" you said. you didn't boast about your flirting skills, that was for sure, but you thought you were charming enough. and evan evidently did too. he rolled his eyes, but there was definitely a grin on his face.

"you didn't even finish your food," he teased, though it didn't seem like he was all too concerned, after you'd just insinuated that he'd be getting lucky again. he stood from his chair and led you into the bathroom, the two of you flirtingly undressing each other on the way. there was a trail of clothes on the way to the bathroom, ending with the two of you standing by the shower. "i'm never gonna get tired of seeing that…" evan said playfully, eyeing your naked form beside him. he wrapped his arms around you, groping your ass and pulling you in for a kiss. you could feel yourself blush at the comment -- did that mean he wanted to keep seeing you? that maybe you'd be spending more time with him? you'd only known him for about a day, but he fascinated you, and you liked his goofy cockiness; it was surprisingly charming.

he turned around and started the water, leaning down and giving you access to return his groping. you grabbed his ass; it was really nice, you couldn't really tell that based on the clothes he wore, which made it all the better that you'd gotten to see it. and touch it, of course. he moaned as you massaged his ass and lower back. the water spritzed on, warm and steamy, inviting the two of you inside. the shower itself was a sort of glass box, with a door that swung open and clasped shut on the inside. it was the perfect size for the two of you to be intimately close in it together. the two of you clambered in, laughing as you bumped into each other while trying to get into comfortable positions. you ended up facing each other, a moment of thought before you both leaned in for a kiss.

the kiss deepened as the two of you started groping each other, becoming a full-on make-out session full of moaning and groaning. you broke away to bite on evan's neck, making him gasp out in surprise as you teeth scraped the delicate flesh just above his shoulder. "shit, wait, let me fix the temp real quick," evan grunted, pulling away from you, suddenly a bit agitated. you had to admit, the water was starting to get a little hot. he turned more cold on, but that didn't help. the water started getting hotter.

"are you turning the right knob?" you asked, hissing through your teeth as you felt the water start to sting the skin on your forearm. your arm was turning a bright, angry red as the water started to scald you.

"yes, i'm turning the right knob!" evan snipped at you, making you frown frustratedly at him. "i know which knob is cold, it's my apartment," he grumbled, turning both knobs now. it was clear he had been turning the right one; the water was just getting hotter by itself.

"maybe try turning it off?" you suggested, trying to scoot back away from the stream of boiling water. it had to be approaching something like 150 degrees at this point. you couldn't think straight, it was so hot. you were starting to panic, and you knew evan was too, but yours was starting to get intense. had you not avoided the thing that was supposed to hurt evan? and had you lumped yourself in with him? were the two of you going to die from third degree burns in this shower, trapped in the boiling water and choking on steam?

"i am trying to turn it off, man! i'm not stupid. why don't you try, if you're so smart?" evan snapped, shoving past you to trade you spots. now he was up against the glass wall of the shower, and he started to jiggle the clasp, trying to undo it. it was stuck. the two of you really were stuck, and if you didn't find a way out soon, it wasn't going to be pretty. "damn it, this is all your fault, you were the one who suggested getting in here in the first place… i bet you broke the stupid latch…"

"hey, don't get pissed off at me," you grouched back at him, angry that he was blaming you for something that clearly wasn't your fault. there were sinister things at play, here, working against you and evan and trying to harm you both now. "maybe if your apartment wasn't so hot, i wouldn't have wanted to get in here." you grumbled as the two of you worked on your tasks separately, faced away from each other. the heat of the water climbed in intensity so rapidly it was making you lightheaded. it had been all of three or four minutes that you'd been in there, and in just that time, the two of you had gotten agitated enough to blame each other for something that you at least knew wasn't anyone's fault. at this point it was clearly some sort of evil thing at play, here. you fiddled with the knobs desperately, evan messing with the latch, when in one quick second you heard a smashing sound behind you.

evan had busted through the foggy glass pane of the shower, shouldering it with all of his weight and smashing through it. cool air rushed in, already soothing your skin as you rushed out to him, stepping around glass and crouching down to where he lay on the floor amidst a bed of glass shards. the water sprayed on behind you, harmlessly flowing down the drain. steam curled up around you in the bathroom as you consoled evan, brushing glass off of him and pulling him up to his feet.

all animosity drained from the two of you as you looked into each other's eyes, safe from the boiling heat of the shower. "are you alright?" you asked him, gathering him in your arms and holding him close as the two of you mentally recovered from the ordeal you'd just been through.

"sorry i was being such an ass," evan said to you, softly, as you passed an ice pack and frozen peas back and forth to each other. he'd given you a spare pair of pajama pants and was wearing a pair himself as the two of you sat on his bed together. your head was swimming with all the things that had happened the past day; you barely heard him.

"it's okay. i was being an ass too -- it wasn't anybody's fault," you assured him, leaning in and kissing him on the lips. it was a gentle kiss, meant to be comforting. it seemed to have worked at least a little bit, but he was still a little worked up.

"maybe not, but.. what the hell was it, then? that shit doesn't just happen."

you sighed softly, biting on your lip. you knew that you'd been right all along, that the crazy-anxious feeling you'd been having was founded in some kind of truth. this wouldn't be the last time something like this happened. the pit in your stomach had started to return, and you had a feeling that it would be there for a while. you figured you better get used to saving evan's life, and he'd better get used to saving yours. you didn't know what the feeling meant exactly, other than the two of you would be being chased by death for a good while going forward. "i don't really know," you said, pausing. you thought about just brushing it off, keeping him in the dark for just a moment longer, letting him have that ignorant bliss. but it felt irresponsible. "but it feels… cosmic," you muttered, just in case he thought you were being crazy. but when you looked up at him, he was nodding slowly and thoughtfully. "and we'll figure it out. i'll get to the bottom of this, and we'll stop it," you promised, reaching over to hold his hand in your lap.

24-hour relationship or not, evan wasn't going to die, and neither were you. you were going to see to that.

#writing #slashers #asks #male reader #drabble #requests #evan lewis final destination 2 #evan lewis x male reader #evan lewis x reader #evan lewis #evan lewis fic #final destination #final destination 2 #fd movies #fd2 #final destination fanfic #horror movie fic

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lee-by-thy-side · 1 year ago

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when you kill off your own oc in a drabble and you realize you like writing angst.

#yes this is about Rocky #yes it is in a *brutal* way.#i recently watched some clips of the first Final Destination and sparks some inspo #is the drabble for a very self-indulgent crossover fic? yes yes it is #i might post a small wip peek later

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enjakey · 4 months ago

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Physics and Arts

Jake x you | fluff, opposites attract, some smut, students au | smart kink, whimper kink | Jake is a science geek, reader is an academia geek | small drabble

Jake didn’t know how he ended up with someone like you.

For the longest time, he thought he’d end up with someone similar to him. Someone who liked math and physics, could solve numerical problems within seconds- just hand him a pen and paper and he’d prove it to you- and liked music the way he did. He was in a band with his college friends, he played the second guitar and was the lead rapper (whenever it was needed)

But you? You were nothing like him.

But it wasn’t to say you weren’t smart- no, you were so learned, so knowledgeable. Just not in the way Jake was. Because Jake was all about numbers, all about the way he could perceive the world through physics and mathematical theories. He could go on and on about Oppenheimer (he even read his book) and Schrödinger’s cat and about Murphy’s law and about how he wanted to become and space engineer one day. He could ramble about the physics of stars and galaxies and how our universe was infinitely stretching.

You, on the other hand, looked at the world through culture, social institutions and contemporary issues of race, class, gender and religion. You looked at the world through philosophies of Socrates and Nietzsche and whenever you talked about the theory of multiple universes, you looked at like a philosophical question rather than a scientific one.

It was an argument, a debate, you and Jake had been tangled in during many occasions- during breakfast coffees or nights where neither of you could fall asleep.

You liked to write essays, read knowledge heavy books and nitpick at research papers like it was your hobby. Jake hated reading research papers, hated reading books with too many words and hated doing his citations for his essays (and out of frustration, you started doing it for him, afraid he’d get called out for plagiarism).

While you liked to study in silence, Jake loved to listen to r&b music while doing assignments- cracking numbers in his brain like a calculator.

Your mind didn’t work like his, that much was certain. You disagreed on so many topics, looked at life and the world through complete different lenses and saw the future as two different destinations- one as death and the other as success.

Jake really didn’t know how he ended up here with you.

When he was set up with a blind date by a mutual friend- Heeseung, his senior, who thought the pair of you would be a great couple- Jake didn’t know how he came to that conclusion. Because during that date, where you sat across from him in a yellow-lit café surrounded by potted plants and flowers, he could only ever see you as a friend.

And for the longest time, the pair of you did agree to be friends. And that friendship consisted of early morning coffee runs at that very cafe, standing in line together to guess the special of the menu for that morning, talking about your classes from the day prior.

Your conversations consisted of you quoting various theorists across academia and philosophy- because that was pretty much your whole personality- while Jake hid most of himself away and only showed the fun parts, the goofy parts you seemed to enjoy being around so much.

But then, one day, you fixed his grammar while he was speaking and Jake was taken aback. Jake might have been a science geek but the knowing the English language was important to him. You knew that, and corrected his grammar- something about using the past participle in the wrong context. He didn’t know what else he was expecting- you, who spent most of your time writing essays and buried in academic literature, obviously knew the rules and regulations of English better than he did.

But it was finally when Jake actually started to let his interest show- his spanning knowledge on physics theory- did he realise how smart you actually were. Because when he talked about the string theory, you finished a lot of his sentences. And he was stunned that you’d known about it, that you’d once spent a phase in university studying about the physics of the universe, to see if the world could be explained and understood by scientific theory rather than sociological critique.

And you understood both worlds, unlike Jake. You understood the science of living as well as the art of living. And Jake almost envied that about you, that your brain had somehow unlocked crevices that could comprehend things Jake couldn’t fathom.

Because to him, the contemporary world belonged to all the social media scandals and TikTok videos explaining comedic politics and a dying economy.

But to you, it was more than that. It would always mean more than that.

It wasn’t until a night you found yourself laying on his bed that Jake started seeing you differently. Like, physically, actually differently after spending days coming to terms with the fact that he didn’t just find your mind sexy, but you as a whole person too. How did you end up on his bed? You were simply too lazy to leave in the first place, after having stuffed your face with too many bowls of Jake’s perfectly cooked ramen and after arguing over something about the science of manifestations.

Your brain was throbbing from all the times you’d raised your voice to prove a point and he raised his voice to do the same- not that any of it was out of malice. Such conversations were common to you, by that point. It was integral to your friendship with Jake.

Somehow, Jake found himself scooting closer to you, wrinkling the navy blue duvet under him. He hovered over you for only a moment, eyes locking, breath ragged as if he were afraid to you a question- a question of which you knew he’d ask you.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered under his breath and the words hit your cheek with a warm welcome.

And when you didn’t show any signs of discomfort, when you moved your face closer to his and fluttered your eyes closed, Jake kissed you. It was a kiss long over due and if Heeseung found out, he would brag about introducing you to each other- because, perhaps, he was right. He was right about you being a good couple and he was right about you getting along.

And, fuck, did kissing you feel right, too.

Jake didn’t know how to pull away from you. He just let his hands wander, holding and clutching anything he could get get a grip on- your jaw, your neck, your hair, your waist and finally, your hips.

He was heaving for air- but he kissed you like you were the oxygen he didn’t know was missing. He felt so euphoric, he was sure he’d wake up the next morning more blind than he already was.

In between all your pants, all the moments you refused to part your lips from his, your clothes had somehow (somehow? You knew where this was going) ended up in the floor. And as you ran your hands down his chest, his taut muscles under the tips of your fingers, writhing and desperate, you looked at him through your lashes.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

Jake let out a loud whine as he held your hips harder, feeling his cock twitch at your voice- usually so loud and confident, now teasing and sultry. He loved this change in you, this version of you that only he got to experience.

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned as he let the tip of his cock slide through your wet folds, hips bucking in desperation. “Fuck.”

That night, he didn’t exactly rail you. He made love to you (the railing would happen later and a lot more throughout your relationship). He whispered all the sweet things that went through his head when you talked about your favourite things, kissed down your neck and chest, sucking on your nipples and the tip of his cock touched your cervix.

As his cock slid in and out of you, careful and calculated in motion to make sure you felt every inch of him, you moaned for him. Well, Jake wasn’t even sure if he could call it a moan- it was high pitched, perhaps a whine, that came in short intervals and sharp breaths.

A whimper, perhaps?

He didn’t know what it was but he loved it- and he planned on hearing it more. It took everything in him to not go feral at the sight of you, at the sounds you made- you looked so breakable under him, so responsive, so weak as you clawed at him, searching for your own high.

As Jake spent more time with you, he realised that those high pitched whines you made didn’t just come from sex. No, you made them in your sleep, when you were tired, when you were yawing or when you were tutting at something you were annoyed at.

There were times when you’d simply collapse on his bed, hugging his pillow and saying something about being too tired to sleep- and you’d let out that sound again, that whine that made his brain snap into two and his body beg for you.

It was hard to keep his hands off you.

Your relationship, now, consisted of a lot of nights just… doing things together. The pair of you liked to solve puzzles- puzzles of all kind, the kind that had Jake scratching his head over numerical patterns and the kind that made you have a hard time visualise a painting. You liked playing games together- like one of those name all fifty states type of games. They were fun and they made you laugh and by the end of it, if Jake couldn’t resist the allure of your mind, he’d rail you against his bed, into his navy blue sheets.

And he introduced you to a lot of music, not the type you heard in mainstream media, the ones that blew up on TikTok. No, the songs he listened to were personal, old and carried history. Your music taste was… really terrible compared to his.

And while he shared music, you shared your love for film. And not the movies type of film, you loved watching film that was critiqued, that transcended generations, the type that one wouldn’t have heart about if they weren’t keeping up with film history like you were. And though, at first, Jake resisted- absolutely hated the idea of spending three hours watching films he’d potentially hate- he succumbed to you. Because even though he hated the films you made him watch, he loved the wonder your expression held while characters unravelled their stories.

Study sessions meant that Jake would be sitting on his bed with a pen and notebook finishing questions from his textbook with earphones feeding soothing music into his ears while you would sit on his bed, laptop perched on your legs, typing away on essays.

The pair of you could have easily just studied in your respective spaces- you back at your own apartment. But you simply didn’t want to- it was more comforting to be right there, a few steps away from each other so you could reach out whenever work became overwhelming.

There were numerous occasions where Jake would simply give up on his work and would slide onto the bed. He’d close your laptop and slot himself between your legs, head buried in your chest while you killed him to sleep, hands buried in his hair. And there were numerous occasions where you would sigh over an essay and pad over to Jake, pulling his chair just enough to give yourself room to straddle him, to wrap your arms around his neck and cling onto him like a koala.

“What would I do without you?” You’d ask sometimes, accepting the fact that Jake was your anchor now- that there was no escaping it, no denying it. He was your rock, your pull and escape from reality.

“Don’t think about it,” Jake would say. “You never have to know,” because he didn’t plan on letting you go- not anytime soon, not ever.

Because he loves your mind too much- he loves you too much. And you were his counterpart, just as he was yours.

Time and time, again and again, the pair of you would prove that physics and arts went hand in hand, just as you and Jake went hand in hand.

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madamechrissy · 4 months ago

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CEO Nanami

pairings- CEO Nanami x F! assistant reader

MDNI- explicit- lots of longing, masturbation hehe (m and f) some fingering, and teasingg- just more Nanami drabbles bc I love him

CEO Nanami constantly thinks about you, his pretty assistant, so bratty and just well... perfect. Driving him insane in your tight little business skirts, making him have to clear his throat and look away, blushing, trying to will his thick cock to go down.

CEO Nanami keeps it professional of course, he respects how hard you work, even if he's constantly just thinking about you on his desk, your legs spread. Even if he keeps picturing his cock pumping in and out of what he's sure is a perfect little pussy, between sexy thighs clad in black stockings destined to drive him to distraction.

CEO Nanami can't help himself from staring when you're showing him a presentation you've put together for him, smiling so pretty and smelling so sweet. He leans back in that big leather office chair, huge hands clenching and unclenching at the thought of bending you over it right now, when you look at him nervously 'Is the presentation alright Mr. Nanami?'

CEO Nanami clears his throat, smiling at you, only enhancing his cheekbones impossibly more. Making your pulse race, the sandy blond haired man sitting with his long legs spread wide does insane things to your mind, you shouldn't think this way about your boss! You will those thoughts to calm down, thinking the most wicked things about that cheetah tie, how good it would feel on your wrists. 'The presentation is wonderful' he murmurs then, so sweet as always.

CEO Nanami sees an eye full of your breasts when you bend over, blouse unbuttoned just a bit, his cock hurting, he knows he'll stroke it to you later, he always does, but it takes so much not to rub his palm over his length then and there. You smile sweetly from his praise, your own mind running as you peer at him, his green glasses firmly on the straight bridge of his nose.

CEO Nanami locks his office with a click when you leave, stroking his thick, veiny length with a muffled groan, already leaking precum from you just too close to him. He hates that he feels this way its simply unprofessional! But how can he not when you're so, so fucking pretty!? He's stroking faster, picturing being deep inside your cunt as he then hears a knock on his door, a rap rap rap.

CEO Nanami answers only after tucking his cock up into his belt, yes its that big its his only option, looking to see you now, hands itching to grab you. 'So sorry Mr. Nanami, I forgot my favorite pen!' You grab it quickly, bending over just enough to almost make him cum, before smiling again so sweetly and rushing out. Nanami rest his head on the door, sighing, just how is he supposed to not fuck his pretty assistant?

CEO Nanami doesn't realize you look at him that way because you want him, because you need him. He doesn't realize being near him alone gets you so wet you're touching your own pussy, hidden by your big desk at work, as you catch a glimpse of him from his office, resting his handsome face on his knuckles, as you circle your clit so wanton. He lowers those glasses, hazel eyes boring into yours, as you casually smile, wishing this man would make a move. But no, Nanami is a gentleman.

CEO Nanami really is not such a gentleman in his head, when there is the company dinner, and he's sipping on a whiskey neat and watching you dance with a coworker, he aches to yank you by your hair, to fuck you so good you have no chance to pay attention to these boys. Boys is what they are, as you giggle and look at him over your glass of champagne, wishing he'd ask you to dance. When Nanami does finally come up, pulling on that cheetah tie, the next words shock you.

CEO Nanami leans down, lips against your ear, murmuring - 'will you ever be a good girl?' which leads to him pressing you against a wall in one of the halls of the grand room moments later, slipping two thick digits in your slutty little cunt, his other hand pressing on your lower tummy over the sleek little dress that's covering nothing, as you cry out against your own palm. 'Couldn't wear any panties, hmm? trying to ruin me?' he demands desperately, only for you to look back, eyes dilated, your lips parted, hearing the squelching wetness of your cunt as you whisper - 'yes'

hehe- I love writing Nanami as a boss MY GOODNESS

#nanami smut #kento nanami x you #nanami x y/n #kento smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami x fem!reader #kento nanami smut #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #jjk nanami

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 4 months ago

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ATEEZ MASTERLIST

✎ all of my ATEEZ works, all in one place ! ✎ works labeled (m) contain mature/dark content, labeled (x) contain explicit sexual content, (y) is for yandere, (!) are reader favorites, (<3) are author favorites ✎ individual warnings are listed on each story, take care of yourself ! ✎

MDNI WITH MY BLOG

→MULTIPLE OR ALL MEMBERS

『HEADCANONS OR SCENARIOS』

ATEEZ in bed masterlist (x)

Favorite Positions (x)

ATEEZ as subs (x)

Valentine ! (x)

ATEEZ with a sick Darling (m,y)

Best to worst Yandere for an age regressor to have (y)

『AMBIGUOUS ONE-SHOTS』

One Day (x, y, m)

Best Behavior (y, x, <3)

『ONE OR TWO SHOTS』

Puff, Puff, Pass - Hongjoong shares his girlfriend with Seonghwa and Yeosang. (x, <33, !!, top post! )

Manners and Manners Part Two- Hongjoong and Seonghwa share their girlfriend. (x)

DJANGO - On the run from Strickland authorities and missing their group; Wooyoung, San, and their girlfriend finally get a win. (x,m, !! all time reader favorite)

Playtime - Hongjoong and his girlfriend play with Yeosang. (x, <3)

WooSan making you tap out (x, !)

Suck It And See - Sadist Mingi and Hongjoong drabble. (x, m, <3)

『SERIES AND WORLDS』

Curse Your Name - "What is destined cannot be avoided." (x, y, m, <33) ON HOLD

Should I? - Yunho, Mingi and their girlfriend are amateur porn creators who suddenly blow up and meet a man who goes by "Captain". (XXX, !!)

Allure - Hongjoong and Seonghwa are being held in a lycan prison when they catch a scent that can only be described as... Alluring. (M, x, y, !, <3 this story is an all time favorite) COMPLETED... FOR NOW

CODE L-O-V-E - ATEEZ find themselves watching a member of the girl group in their company... maybe a little too closely. (Y, m, !, <3) ONGOING

Animals - Your pack is very unique and diverse: hybrids from all walks of life: predator, prey, alpha, beta, omega, full blood, mutt — there's a little bit of everything in your little family of animals. (x, !!) ON GOING

→INDIVIDUAL MEMBERS

→ Park Seonghwa Catalog

→ Kim Hongjoong Catalog

→ Jeong Yunho Catalog

→ Kang Yeosang Catalog

→ Choi San Catalog

→ Song Mingi Catalog

→ Jung Wooyoung Catalog

→ Choi Jongho Catalog

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lavandulawrites · 5 months ago

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Yandere HSR Men with a Darling Who Catches Them Kill Part 1

Yandere Anaxa x reader, yandere Argenti x reader, yandere Aventurine x reader, yandere Blade x reader

This will be in 5 parts with 4 characters each part:) When all the parts are finished, I will put all the drabbles in one big post;) I got slightly carried away with Aventurine’s part

Masterlist

Warnings: murder, dead dove do not eat, gore, graphic description of murder, obsession, possessiveness, overprotective behaviour, they’re all such simps oml, delusional behaviour, the yanderes are all insane, manipulation, reader does not get hurt

Word count: 2632

Anaxa

Being a well known professor had its perks. One of them being that trust was something people granted one rather freely. Anaxa had at first wanted to use his immense brainpower to lure the rotten man to him, but the said man had come to him rather willingly. He had placed great trust in the sage and his admiration was clear as the endless day in Okhema. The man’s name was uninteresting and a name that tasted like bile whenever the teal-haired man uttered it.

Whenever they spoke, his blood boiled within his veins like molten lava and he wanted nothing more than to claw out the man’s eyes with his fingernails. His idiocy was insulting, but it was something Anaxagoras could use to his advantage.

The biggest mistake the poor excuse of a man had made was ruining you with his touch and words. The professor had seen the way the man had make you uncomfortable and he had heard on countless occasions that you only viewed the man as a acquaintance. However, this seemed to fly over the man’s head as he continued to pester you. Anaxa had grown tired and a well deserved punishment was due.

The sun was high on the sky and warm wind ruffled Anaxagoras’ hair. His lone eye was plastered to the form of the man as he wiped his for head with the back of his hand. Sweat was sticking to his disgusting neck as he wheezed. “I must say, I didn’t take you for the hiking type” he barked out a disgust laughter that made Anaxa narrow his eye in pure disgust.

“Hmm… Well I am” his reply was curt and with a biting edge. Two minutes till they reached the destination. Then Anaxa could finally rid the world of that pest. The dagger in his coat pocket was heavy and ready to be used. So far everything had gone according to his calculations.

The plateau was filled with lush grass and multiple wildflowers in pastel colours. The wind was stronger up there and it caused Anaxa’s eye to become watery. Normally that would have annoyed him greatly, but not now.

As the man peered down over the edge and onto the ground far below, Anaxagoras stalked forward with quick and silent steps. His dagger was raised high above his head and he brought it down onto the man’s back with enough force for it to completely impale him. The man screamed as blood splattered across the baby pink flowers underneath him. He gurgled on his own disgusting blood as he collapsed on his front. He was only a meter from the edge and it was dangerously tempting for Anaxa to just kick him down, but he knew better.

A choked cry sounded across the cliff. “Anaxa… what is this?” you asked with a quivering voice. Anaxa smiled at you gently. His eye dark as the wave of darkness that threatened Amphoreus.

He stalked towards you with slow steps. His demeanour was confident. “My dear, do not worry. He won’t hurt you anymore” he spoke with a soft tone as his bloodied hands found yours. His grip was tight, yet gentle.

“Hurt me?” you asked while tears streamed endlessly down your cheeks.

Anaxa’s expression shifted to surprise before it went back to the soft look that always made you feel warm inside. “Don’t tell me you weren’t aware?”

You blinked at him “Aware? What do you mean Anaxa? I don’t understand…”

His fingers gently wiped away your tears. “He had been planning to stab you to death, [Name]. I am sorry you had to see this. But it had to be done. I couldn’t let him take away the most important person in my life. I couldn’t let him take away you, the most precious person there is” he pulled you into a hug. Your face against his throat as he hugged you tightly as if you were his life line. You hugged him back, grateful that he had saved you from your doom. Grief filled you. How could you ever doubt him? Anaxa had always tried to protect you, it was for the best if you listened to him. For had he ever lied to you?

Argenti

The smell of fresh roses mixed together with the suffocating smell of blood filled the air. The Knight of Beauty danced in an almost sensual tango with his trusted lance. Petals from the rose bushes soared in the air, quickly accompanied by crimson splatter that held similarity with red rain. The scene was just like the paintings one could find in the most grand museums.

With a quick and precise movement the blade of the lance sliced through the man’s chest, causing blood to spurt out like a hot and sticky fountain.

Argenti sneered at the pure ugliness of the man who had so greedily touched you with his sinful hand. How dared he dirty your beauty which such utter filth? The knight raised his heavy foot and stomped on the man’s bloodied chest. His heel dug into his skin and at the satisfying crunch of a broken rib caused his lips to stretch out into a crazed smile. Oh how he was going to enjoy ripping him apart. The universe was better of without such grotesque ugliness.

A shrill scream broke Argenti out of his bloodthirsty trance. His sage eyes widened. He could recognise that voice everywhere. He slowly turned his head and was met with your tear ridden face.

“My beautiful rose… what brings you here?” Argenti’s voice was a mixture of panic and admiration. His face softened at the sigh of you. Oh Idrila were you beautiful.

“Wh-what have you done Argenti?” your voice was shaky as you choked halfway through your sentence. Your eyes were as red as the blood that still poured out from the dead man.

The red-haired knight smiled gently as he shook his head. “My dear, this is no place for you. You really were not meant to see such horrible things” as quickly as lighting he had pulled you within his arms. His muscular form tightly pressed against you. He kissed the crown of your head as he murmured soft praise of your beauty. A gentle gloved hand gently raised your head so that you could meet his striking eyes. “Let’s go home. The ‘One and Only’ is waiting for us” soft lips pressed against your cheek in a gentle kiss. It made you wonder if he believed he would break you had he put any more pressure. And who knows, maybe he would?

The trek back to the spaceship was silent and suffocating. At first you had tried to stifle your cries, but after a while you did not care if he heard.

The gentle knight you once knew was gone, and all that was left was a hauntingly beautiful beast whose love was darker and more dangerous than any creatures in the vast universe.

Aventurine

“I will give you two options. Either you play a round of poker or-” the blonde man puled out a sleek black gun from the inner pocket of his luxurious turquoise blazer. The gun gleamed ominously in the lighting of the casino. “Or, I shoot you right now. Your choice!” his grinned. His canines oddly threatening.

The man swallowed hardly at the sight of the gun, before he forced a faux confident smile. “I chose the first option, poker.”

“Very well” Aventurine put the gun back in the pocket with a smirk. “I take it that you know the rules?”

“I do” the man nodded.

“Great!” Aventurine beamed

It didn’t take long for the man to realise his loss was inevitable. His hand was utter shit. Aventurine won the game with a royal flush. The air deflated from the man’s body as he stared down on the poker table in defeat.

“It seems that I won” the Stoneheart’s cheery voice sliced through the silence like a sharp knife.

“Why… Why do you do this? What have I done? Is it the money I borrowed? I payed you back some weeks ago! I know it was overdue, but I still payed you!” the man’s voice was frantic as he shook his head in disbelief.

“Why you ask?” Aventurine’s voice was like ice. “I will tell you why” he leaned over the table “It’s about [Name]. Do you seriously think you can take away the love of my life? Are you really that stupid? You are going to pay for what you have done. It’s only fair” his voice was laced with enough poison to kill a grown man. In the blink of an eye the gambler’s expression had changed from deadly to friendly. “Oh don’t be sad my friend! I promise I will show you mercy!” he chuckled.

“No! Please no! I beg of you! I promise I will never be near [Name] ever again! You have my word! Just please!” the man fell to his knees begging, the chair tumbled over as a result of his sudden movements. Fat tears ran down his disgusting face as he begged to be spared.

Aventurine’s handsome face twisted into disgust and pure hatred as he started down his nose at the begging man. “I have your word, hmm? As if that is good enough. You have already wasted my time enough. I have a date with [Name], and I cannot bear to have my jewel waiting” harsh words echoed across the dark lit room.

Aventurine rose from his seat. He stretched his limbs like a cat. In a blink of an eye the black gun was pointed at the man. Long fingers pulled the safety of. The sound of two gunshots rang through the thick air. The man wailed as he fell back onto his back. Blood poured out from the wounds on his knees. The flesh was ripped open and the white bone was clear on display.

Unhinged giggles fell from the blonde man’s lips.

Aventurine crouched down, his fingers running through the blood splatter. The blood was warm on his finger as he lifted his hand up to the light. “I am so glad you said yes to my invitation. It really saved me the trouble of dragging you here myself” he smeared the crimson liquid between his fingertips. “It was a fun game, my friend” his words were bittersweet, but deadly.

Back on his feet, Aventurine aimed the gun at the man’s head. With a wide grin and maddening eyes, h spilled the trigger. The gun recoiled in his hand and he almost shuddered. The bullet pierced straight through the man’s forehead and through his thick skull. The back of his head was blown off and onto the newly polished dark wooden floors. The bullet-hole started back at Aventurine like a dark abyss. Pink brain matter was shatter across the mean and it look oddly similar to some of the jelly candies that were awfully popular.

The door swung open and Aventurine’s heart stopped for a second. Fuck. Quicker than lighting he pulled his suit jacket off and laid it over the body’s head and shoulders. It was a nice jacket and it pained him to ruin it, but he could just by a new one. However, you getting traumatised was not something he could undo.

With long steps he was at the door. You creaked the door opened and smiled when you were met with the beautiful eyes of the man you loved.

“Hi Aventurine!” you greeted him with your beautiful smile.

Aventurine’s heart fastened at your precious smile. Oh the Aeons, how he loved you. “Hi [Name]-”

“Aventurine what is that?” your interrupted him with a silent tone.

Oh he was fucked. “It’s nothing really. Are you ready for our date?”

“Is he dead? God please tell me he isn’t. Did you do this?” you clasped your hand over your mouth as you watched the body with wide eyes.

Aventurine sighed. It was too late to make you unsee what you had seen, so why not just tell you the truth?

“Yes. He was more a monster than man, so don’t feel bad, my darling” strong arms wrapped around your trembling form. He pulled your head towards his chest so you could not see the horrors that was the deceased man.

“Don’t worry, nothing will ever hurt you. Not as long as I live. I will bring hell on earth if someone as much as touch you. I love you [Name]” his words was the only thing that echoed through your mind. Every other thoughts was drowned out by his honeyed voice.

Blade

The sound of a blade swung through the air filled the deserted clearing. The grass underneath the Stellaron Hunter’s shoes was stained red by the countless bodies that strewn out. Lifeless eyes gazed up at the black night sky. Stars were scattered across the horizon as the watched the scene unfold. The cold light of the moon shone on the dark blue hair of the swordsman as he moved effortlessly. He was brutal, but there was a certain terrifying beauty in him.

As the last man fell to the ground in his own puddle of blood, Blade breathed out. A cruel smile formed on his lips as he took in the sight with glee. 11 men he had cut through. It had been rather easy, easier than he would have liked, but that could not be blamed from such incompetent men.

He stopped by a seemingly blond man (it was hard to tell with all the blood). The man had plead for his life and it had only brought Blade annoyance. He had especially enjoyed tearing him limb for limb.

The men had all been to the same bar that you had been to a few nights before. They have all tried hitting on you and you had kindly rejected them all. The sight had made Blade’s blood boil, but he knew he couldn’t do anything, at least not yet. Not when he had promised to take a few days off to spend some time with you.

He had lured them to the clearing within the dense woods and slain them on after the other. Despite being filled with anger and pure hatred, it was rather therapeutic.

The sound of a twig snapping was enough to pull him out of his thoughts. A smile played on his lips. Finally.

You stopped at the foot at the clearing. Your eyes wide and your mouth agape. Your eyes found his blood red ones. Tears escaped your gaze and they plopped down onto the grass. Blade’s breath was caught in his throat as he watched you. God were you beautiful. Almost too beautiful to be real. A part of him felt bad for letting you see the massacre, but the other part of him knew it was for the best. You needed to know that he would protect you no matter what and that nothing would ever come between the two of you.

“I will always protect you. They had it coming” despite his gruff voice, his words had a softness to them. A softness that was unexpected.

Your eyes darted over the bodies, over the marred faces that were missing skin and revealing tendons and muscles for the world to see.

Suddenly, like the quickness of his trusted blade, he was beside you. A bandaged hand pushed hair out of your face as crimson eyes started down on you with adoration and love. His hand was dry despite the bloodiness of the field.

“I will keep you safe. I promise” he pulled you into a gentle hug that was so uncharacteristic of him that it made you blink through your tears. “I love you.”

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multi-fandom-imagine · 2 months ago

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𝗧𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗲-𝗧𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗧𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 || 𝗘𝗿𝗶𝗸 𝗖𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹 ||

A/n: He's so fine 👏, here you go dear Anon. I hope I did your request justice.

Also I fully believe that man would wear a vibrating tongue piercing for his S/olO

The vibration of the truck hummed beneath your thighs, but it was nothing compared to the heat between them.

Erik glanced over at you from the driver’s seat, one hand gripping the wheel, the other already teasing the edge of your thigh where your skirt had ridden up just a bit too high. His smirk deepened when he caught the way you shifted, trying—and failing—to maintain composure.

“I saw that,” he murmured, voice low and rough like gravel. “You’re squirming already, and I haven’t even touched you properly yet.” The man held a teasing edge to his voice as if he hadn't spent the last half hour teasing you through your panties.

“You’re driving,” you breathed out, fingers curling around the edge of the seat as you then sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as a shudder rushed down your spine.

“I can multitask.”

He swerved gently onto an empty backroad, one you both knew was quiet, hidden. His hand slipped fully onto your bare thigh, calloused fingertips tracing slow circles just above your knee. “You remember what I did last time we were in a car together?” he murmured.

Your mouth went dry. Oh, you remembered. It was one of the hottest places you've two have had sex.

“Good,” Erik said, as if reading your thoughts. “Because I’m gonna do it again—only this time, you’re not getting away so easy.”

Before you could ask what he meant, the truck rolled to a slow stop beneath a stretch of trees. He threw it in park, cut the engine, and turned toward you with that grin—the one that made you weak in the knees, that made your heart beat wildly.

“You wanna climb over here, or do I drag you across my lap?”

The way he said it made your stomach twist with arousal. You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Erik reached out, pulled you across the seat in one fluid move, your thighs settling on either side of his lap. His hands wasted no time grabbing fistfuls of your ass, grinding you down against the bulge in his jeans.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip before he looked up at you, eyes dark and dangerous. “You’re already wet, aren’t you?”

You whimpered as he rolled his hips up, letting you feel every thick inch through the denim. Your hands gripped his shoulders, but he wasn’t giving you time to think—one hand came down with a sharp smack against your ass, making you gasp.

Erik let out a small growl hearing your little gasp and whimper. “That sound you make when I spank you—makes me wanna hear you scream.”

He grabbed your jaw with one hand and pulled you into a filthy kiss—deep, consuming, tongue licking into your mouth with practiced, teasing flicks that made your head spin. His tongue moved just the way it had during that first time he’d gone down on you, when he’d made you writhe and sob from how he twisted it, circled it, fucked you with it.

You broke the kiss with a moan. “Erik…”

“Yeah, you’re thinking about it now, huh?” he chuckled darkly, hand slipping between your legs, fingers finding your soaked panties. “Thought so.”

He pushed them aside and sank two fingers into your dripping pussy, slow and deep.

“Goddamn,” he hissed, watching the way your mouth dropped open, how you clenched around him. “This pussy’s already begging for it.”

Another sharp smack landed on your ass, and the contrast of pain and pleasure sent you spiraling. You ground against his hand, whimpering when his thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing tight little circles as he finger-fucked you with devastating precision.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Ride my fingers,” Erik murmured, voice rough with need. “I wanna feel you come before I even get my cock out.”

You clenched around him, thighs trembling as he curled his fingers just right, dragging them over that sensitive spot that made your entire body tighten.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered against your ear. “You remember what I did with my tongue—imagine what I’ll do with my cock.”

You shattered with a cry, burying your face in his neck as you came hard, pulsing around his fingers, your whole body shaking from the release.

Erik let out a low groan, pulling his fingers out and sucking them clean, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

“Round two,” he rasped, undoing his belt with one hand. “Get in the backseat.”

You didn’t hesitate because you knew he would really show you what that tongue could do and You barely had time to catch your breath.

As you crawled over without hesitation, sinking into the cushions, legs still trembling from your last orgasm. Erik followed like a predator, hands already on your thighs, pushing them apart with a possessive grip his lips swollen, pupils blown wide with hunger.

He knelt between them, spreading you wide as your back hit the seat. You could feel the heat of his breath ghosting over your soaked folds, and when he looked up at you through his lashes, you saw it.

The flash of metal.

That sinful piercing glinting on his tongue.

“I got it changed,” Erik rasped, voice low and husky. “Little upgrade.”

You blinked down at him, confused and turned on beyond words.

He smirked, stuck his tongue out again—slow, deliberate—and this time, you felt it before he even touched you.

A soft hum buzzed in the air.

Vibrating.

Your eyes widened. “Erik—”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Vibrating tongue bar. Just for you.”

Then he dove in.

The moment his tongue pressed against your pussy, you cried out—back arching off the seat as that vibration sent waves through your core like nothing you’d ever felt. It wasn’t just stimulation—it was deep, focused torment, the kind that made your toes curl and your hands claw for something to hold onto.

His tongue dragged up your folds, slow and devastating, humming against your clit with pinpoint precision. You gasped, thighs trying to clamp shut, but his hands gripped them firm, keeping you spread and helpless beneath his mouth.

“Fuck, baby…” you moaned, trembling as he circled your clit with the vibrating ball, your nails digging into the leather of his seat. “Holy fuck…”

He didn’t stop. He doubled down.

Licking. Flicking. Sucking.

Alternating between fast teasing licks and deep, languid strokes—letting the vibration pulse through you each time he pressed the bar flat against your clit. Your body jerked with every movement, your hips grinding against his face, needy and desperate.

He was relentless.

“That’s it, baby,” Erik murmured between licks, the vibration of his voice and the bar sending shocks straight to your core. “Let me hear you. I want you to come all over my fucking tongue.”

You were already so close, tears prickling your eyes as pleasure coiled in your belly—tight, hot, unstoppable.

“Erik—don’t stop—I’m—”

Your entire body shattered.

You came with a cry, thighs shaking around his head as your pussy pulsed against his mouth. Erik didn’t pull back. He kept going, licking you through it, the vibration never easing until you were gasping and twitching, fingers buried in his hair tugging him closer.

Your voice raw from calling out his name, thin sheen of sweat coating your body.

And only then—when you were spent, boneless—did he finally lift his head, chin glistening, eyes dark and full of triumph.

“New favorite toy,” he murmured, licking his lips. “You’re welcome.”

And then, casually—still between your legs—he added with a smirk:

“Round three’s gonna feel even better… when I’m inside you.”

An airy laugh left your lips, your body feeling like jelly still recovering. "Fuck"

#drabbles #drabble #smut #smut x reader #female reader #erik campbell #erik campbell x reader #erik campbell x you #final destination #final destination x reader #final destination bloodlines #final destination bloodlines x reader #fd bloodlines #fd x reader #fd bloodlines x reader

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crescenthistory · 2 months ago

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while we're both here; part five

Synopsis: Being loved may be difficult, but loving one another isn't, and you find that maybe, just maybe, it's worth the work. After reconnecting, Remus goes to find you outside the infirmary for once.

Words: 2.1k

Tags: fem!reader, undisclosed chronic illness that causes you pain and fatigue (writer has EDS and POTS), remus pov, fluff, some hurt/comfort, physical affection, remus' lycanthropy and related theatrics, disabled!remus, remus is slowly healing, establishing the relationship, happy and hopeful ending

previous part | series masterlist

Note: this is the final official part:,) however, if you liked their story and want to see drabble-form snippets of various points in their relationship, shoot me a request!

There is a disturbing amount of emotions swirling around in the cavity of Remus’ chest.

Hope, shame, affection, insecurity, assuredness, mixing down the drain. To drown out the chaos, he tries to let your voice in his head guide him to focus on the ones that are worthwhile.

His cane is a heavy and comforting weight in his hand as he hobbled probably a little too fast on his way to his destination; he has not the patience for his hips and knees to keep up with him, for he is a man on a mission.

Tucked away beneath his pillow in the dorm he just left behind – his mates’ chuffed sniggers following him down the hall – is a magical map that he had hunted you down on, his finger tracing the ink that spelled out your name in a faraway corner of the library. With the end of year etching closer, it made sense that you would be holed up there with your final essays.

Before summer comes in to affect your dynamic, Remus had an overwhelming desire to spend time with you outside the infirmary. He doubted a change of scenery would affect his feelings for you, it was more so the growing incessant need to be close to you. This is the most real thing he had ever had the terrifying pleasure of having, and even so, he felt a need to further cement whatever you had to ensure it stays that way.

The cold stones surrounding him as he walked the final stretch to the library were familiar, the confines of a home he has had for years on end. He was still overwhelmed by the thought that he would get to leave with a found family of best mates, something he never expected. To think that he might have found love, too, was more than he could handle.

Might. Remus chuckled at himself. Not many nights have passed since you were cleared by Madam Pomfrey to go back to your real dorm, but even during that short period of time, Remus knew better than to question it.

He was in love.

Perhaps that was stupid of him, perhaps his father would even tell him as much if he dared have you over, if he dared make plans for the future that included you. Nevertheless, it was Remus’ reality.

The most tangible evidence of his love was now just a few metres away – he memorised exactly which spot you sat in – as he entered the Hogwarts Library, gait somewhat crooked. His cane was a deep maroon, given to him as a gift from James and his parents a few Christmases ago. You had recently helped Remus decorate it by wrapping a string of tiny crocheted silver stars around it, spelling it to stay put and sparkle.

He felt oddly confident walking through the library with this cane as an amalgamation of the people he loved most; a far cry from the embarrassed 12 year old who once roamed the halls with a plastic crutch.

You had chosen a secluded corner of the library, hidden away by yourself in an alcove carved into the stone wall, lined with flickering candles on the walls and padded with purple cushions. A shy smile spread over Remus’ face as he saw you, taking in the way you sat crisscrossed on the bench, absentmindedly massaging your calves while you read the massive book laid down in front of you, dust dancing out from it in the sunlight. The same sunlight caressed your skin beautifully, drawing forth your inner shine that always captivated Remus so.

You hadn’t noticed him yet. Remus slowly closed in on you, too distracted by your familiar beauty to take a closer look at what book you’re reading.

As if you picked up on the distinct sound of Remus’ steps, you looked up. Surprise flashed in your eyes for but a second before they were filled with a warmth that made his fingertips tingle, a barely subdued grin taking over your expression.

“Hi there, stranger,” you said quietly as he got closer, leaning forward on the table. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You mean outside the infirmary?” Remus stopped in front of your table, leaning his good hip against it and crossing his arms. The polite almost-flirting tone he extended you when you first met felt much more genuine now, abated by slight nerves. He added softly, “Hey, dove.”

Remus let himself believe you relaxed at the sound of his voice, pushing down the sensation of how dangerously far gone he was becoming.

“I thought you boys were banned from the library,” you teased, smile prevalent. You lifted a challenging brow at him.

“Ah, no, that's just James and Sirius. Wormtail and I are still in Madam Pince’s good books, and are trying to use our repertoire with her to get them unbanned.” Remus’ eyes filled with even more mirth at the snort you let out at his friend’s nickname.

“Well, I’m glad to see you. What’re you here for?”

At that, Remus reached up to scratch the back of his head, chuckling nervously. Normally he might have tried to play it off, but after your conversation about openness and honesty, he couldn’t even bring himself to want to do that. “I came looking for you, actually. Figured you might fancy some company?”

Might fancy spending time with me, specifically, he hoped silently.

Your eyes crinkled as you let out a soft laugh. “I– yeah, of course. Settle down.”

Remus did, resting his cane against the table carefully before he slid in on the opposite side of the alcove, all the way around so he almost sat arm in arm with you. Close enough that your knee brushed his thigh in its curled up position.

Only then did the illustration on the book in front of you catch his eye – a sketch of the different moon phases.

His breath caught in his throat as he froze, properly focussing on the book now. It was massive and clearly ancient, the ink meandering across the space, one repeated word seemingly screaming out at him: “The Wolf”, always capitalised.

He didn’t know how to process what he saw, so he just looked up at you, lips quivering as if uncertain whether to smile and frown. His silent question floated between you.

You acted nonplussed, but it was clearly a put-on front, shyness and fondness simmering beneath the surface. “This one’s quite outdated,” you began to explain, “but I figured it’s helpful to read how academics used to discuss the matter to better understand how lycanthropy was received over the years. I finished reading Scamander’s take on it earlier, which was much more empathetic and refined.” Beside you was a small notebook that Remus could now see was nearly full, your quill resting on top of it, still wet .

Remus’ lips remained slightly parted, his voice hoarse as he spoke. “You… you’re doing research? For… me?”

You shrugged, as if this didn’t turn his world upside down, as if it didn’t mean everything to him and more. “I mean, you did it for me. With everything. And I know it’s much harder to find muggle medical textbooks in a place like this than it is to find information about lycanthropes.”

The laugh that escaped him was wet and breathy, his mind still not having quite caught up. “It wasn’t that difficult, Madam Pince is rather helpful. And this… this is something else entirely, dove.”

“I just don’t want a lack of knowledge to be a barrier between us,” you said quietly, seemingly trying to downplay the care in your gesture. “I want you to be able to speak freely with me about lycanthropy, without me having to ask about everything.” Remus opened his mouth to answer, but you hurriedly added, “Though, of course, if you want to explain something yourself, please do. Lived experience always trumps dusty books.”

He stared at you with nothing short of awe, uncertain what to say and whether you would ever understand how much this meant to him. There were no words, so all he could offer was, “You, uh, can just call us werewolves. Lycanthropy is a mouthful.”

Your smile suggested his expression was easy to read. “Alright, I will,” you whispered, voice soft.

“Thank you, love. Really.” He let out a longer breath, relaxing into his seat and looking sideways at you with a quivering smile. “You’re really doing this for me?”

“Of course. I want to be there for you.” You held his gaze up until that point before swallowing, looking down to your book. “Friends, right?”

Remus knew, in his heart of hearts, that it was now or never.

“Right. And… and if I wanted to be more than friends? If I wanted to spend time with you, not just while we’re both here, but when we’re anywhere, together?”

Your previously shy smile became borderline unabashed now, lighting up both his life and your eyes as you met his again. “Then, I guess I would ask you why you haven’t invited me to Hogsmeade yet?”

Remus’ heart thundered in his chest as he placed his hands on the table, slowly circling his pinky around yours. This felt like a dream. “Well, I’ve seen how you always flare up afterwards. I didn’t want that to happen because of me.”

Which was true. It was also because he was a coward, but he figured you didn’t need to hear that; he was certain you already knew. He was a lucky bastard, though, because you didn’t seem to mind.

You laughed good-naturedly, shaking your head. “I have a flare-up every two to three business days, Lupin. If I have one because I get to spend time with you, it would have been a worthy sacrifice, at least in my books.”

“Yeah?” Remus breathed out, feeling like he was floating on air. Like the unbelievable had happened – because it had. He was walking with someone, and that someone was you.

“Yeah.” You nodded emphatically, emotion swirling in your gorgeous eyes.

Remus used his pinky around yours to properly intertwine your hands. Passerbys would see you holding hands and sitting close in a library alcove, and probably assume you were together. The thought exhilarated him even more when he realised they wouldn’t be far off.

“This Friday good for you?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think so. Hope so.” You looked somewhat nervous, but he could tell it was because of you and not because of him or the prospect of going out. He squeezed your hand.

“If it winds up being a bad day, we can always just spend the night in the infirmary, dove. I would like to be anywhere with you, familiar or new,” he murmured reassuringly.

Your eyes softened as you held his gaze, whatever slight tension that had been building in your shoulders melting away. Remus dared think you looked like you felt safe. “Thank you,” you mumbled. “The sentiment is shared.”

You leaned sideways to rest your head on his shoulder, shuffling closer so that you could lean your crisscrossed knee on top of his thigh. Each place where your bodies touched served as a grounding point for Remus, anchoring himself to you and the world. He was beginning to understand what peace feels like.

Abruptly, your head shot up and you furrowed your brows at him, as if struck with a thought. “Wait– how did you know I would be here?” you wondered, voice not accusatory but certainly intrigued.

Remus let out a breathy laugh, not having expected to have to explain himself. Though, for once, he found himself not opposed to doing so. “Oh, that, uh– that is one of the many secrets of mine that I’ll be peeling open for you, love. Though, preferably somewhere less crowded.”

You made a show of looking around at the sparse students sitting scattered at tables around you, as if you were undercover detectives on high alert. “You and your secrets, Remus Lupin.”

“They’re all yours, if you want them.” His voice was more suave than he was feeling.

Your smile widened just for him. “I want them.”

Remus’ heart chose to interpret that as I want you. “I’ll spill it all in private, dovey, just you wait.”

You leaned further against him, smile taking on a more deviant undertone. “Are you saying you want to whisk me away to somewhere more intimate, then?”

The tops of Remus’ ears felt warm in a way that warned him they were surely turning red. He swallowed heavily, but it didn’t diminish his wide smile.

“I would love nothing more, dove.”

And that, he did.

286 notes · View notes

bvidzsoo · 5 months ago

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Cherry Blossom, March Event M.list

Authors: ❀ @hongjoongspoetry & bvidzsoo ❀

Pairing: Ateez members x reader

❀ Genre: fluff, soulmate tropes, romance aus ❀ Rating: sfw ❀ Status: finished

Synopsis: Tired of all the grey weather and the relentless winter cold? Dive into the world of our Cherry Blossom event, riddled with heartwarming and sweet drabbles, here to help ease you into the defrosting spring that we have ahead of us.

❀ This is a collection of eight drabbles written by Mina and myself, containing individual and quite unique soulmate tropes paired with a variety of aus, which have been chosen randomly by us, then placed in a spin-the-wheel to make it all the more interesting when selecting who would write what. ❀

A/N: Hello, my loves, Mina and I are back with a little fluffy surprise for the entirety of March! We are both so excited about this little event, it's actually my first this kind of collaboration despite the many years I've been on this site writing, so I'm really excited about it, and I know Mina is too. I hope we have sparked your interest, here you can check out the event announcement. We also have a taglist for this event that you can join if you'd like! ^^ dividers

❀ Taglist ❀

3rd March - Chasing your shadows (Ariadné)

❀ Outlaw!Kim Hongjoong x Bounty hunter!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: Each day on your arm is a particular event your soulmate will face. Summary: What was supposed to be a wild chase after a bounty you had your eyes set on for years now, turns into a life changing event. You had always known your soulmate was never up to any good thanks to the words inked on your inner forearm ever since you were five years old, but you hadn't expected him to be the biggest menace known to the state...or the man you had been relentlessly chasing, trying to catch for the hefty reward promised.

7th March - Pretend You Love Me (Mina)

❀ Badboy!Choi Jongho x Student!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: Your soulmate's name is on your wrist. Summary: Jongho, heir to Choi Clothes, and you are soulmates marked by each other's names on your wrists since birth. Instead of a fairy-tale romance, you're stuck in a fake dating contract to restore Jongho's tarnished image created by scandals. As you navigate public events and play the part of a cute couple, the lines between fake and real blur together. Despite your undeniable chemistry, you refuse to take him seriously due to his reckless past. As the arrangement nears its end, you must confront the truth about your feelings and whether you can move beyond the contract.

10th March - A world in your colours (Ariadné)

❀ Daycare teacher!Kang Yeosang x Florist!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: You see all the colours for the first time when you meet your soulmate. Summary: A world through the faint hues of your soulmate's eye colour isn't the most colourful life to live. Approaching twenty-five and still being unable to see all the colours the world has to offer has you worried that you'll never meet your soulmate. Doubts and questions riddle your mind day and night, but at least you have the one thing that makes you happy no matter what, your little flowers. You can't actually see their colours, but you can imagine their vibrancy. And then, one day when you're making a bouquet for a lovely man, your whole world gets covered in an overwhelming amount of colour, rendering you stunned.

14th March - A Second to Forever (Mina)

❀ Mixed fairy!Seonghwa x Fairy!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: A timer counting down for when you meet your soulmate. Summary: The countdown on your wrist was getting closer to its end and the jitters of finally meeting your soulmate were rendering you an anxious mess. It was a moment you had waited for your entire life - the chance to put a face and name to the person you were destined to meet - and it made you think of different ways to escape fate. After a series of comedic events where everything that could go wrong, did, you met your soulmate. In that instant, everything changed. The encounter was filled with sparks of attraction, warmth and genuine connection, leading to a tender first interaction that left you both feeling enchanted.

17th March - So it's always been you (Ariadné)

❀ Model!Jung Wooyoung x Stylist!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: Whenever you lose an item, it ends up in your soulmates' possession somehow. Summary: Both young and restless, Wooyoung and you have started out your careers around the same time. As newbies in the industry, you quickly found yourselves sticking together and growing closer with each passing day. Now, many years down the line, everyone knows that you and Wooyoung are inseparable besties, who have each other's backs and will crack up at the stupidest of jokes. As his stylist, it's also convenient that whatever Wooyoung loses just magically turns up in your possession since he's known for losing his stuff often. It takes you quite the years to figure it out, but when you do eventually, everything just clicks in place, all of it making sense.

21st March - Just Another Night, Until You (Mina)

❀ Firefighter!Choi San x Emergency physician!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: Being next to your soulmate heals their and your injuries. Summary: Hectic nights at work is nothing out of the ordinary for you, but when a man is wheeled into the Intensive Care Unit with second degree burns all over his body and in the need of immediate medical attention, your life takes a turn as his body heals on his own by the mere presence of you. Shocked by the discovery, you stay by his side as he recovers and together you come to terms with your unexpected connection.

24th March - The pink and blue of your skin (Ariadné)

❀ Sunshine!Jeong Yunho x Grumpy!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: A touch from your soulmate will leave an imprint there. Summary: If there's one person you never understood, and stopped trying to, it was Jeong Yunho. Upon your first meeting back in college, you just knew he'd be a pain in the ass...and you were right. His vibrant personality matched with the constant smile on his face and sickening positivity always made you stay away from him. But much to your dismay, your friend groups mashed quite well, and years after college, you were still going strong and hanging out at any given opportunity. Much to your horror, your best friend makes you share a room and a bed with Yunho for the weekend, and that's when things change...but not for the reasons you'd first think of.

28th March - Sparks and Bruises (Mina)

❀ Boxer!Song Mingi x Real estate agent!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: Meter showing how much of a danger your soulmate is in. Summary: In a world where everyone at the age of eighteen gets a metal meter implanted on their wrist that shows the amount of danger your soulmate is in. You and Mingi have known each other since high school, but went through a nasty fallout after his love for boxing turned into a dangerous gamble with his life as the price. Years later, you stumble over his injured form on the doorstep of your apartment building. Not having the heart to turn him away like all those years ago, you invite him inside with the intention to clean his wounds, but get a lot more than you bargained for.

448 notes · View notes

mrsvante · 5 months ago

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{ before you continue }

media literacy is a MUST on this page (look it up 🙃)

be sure to check the warnings before reading

my writing covers almost every trope, but i’m a romance girl..if the characters aren’t boning at least once then why are we reading it?

if you come into my house (this blog) acting weird (bots, bullies, etc.) you will be blocked.

do not copy or steal my work. the guilt would eat you alive. so let’s not, okay?

please remember doxxing is a federal offense, let’s be respectful on the internet 🛜 it’s not that serious

i’m not anyone’s mother so it’s really out of my hands, but this is NO place for minors. if you’re under 18 and reading my work, ya NASTY! and i AM judging you.

my writing style is mainly written in the second person pov (reader is the main character), with my secondary protagonist written in the third person pov. if you don’t like it, have a beautiful day. thank you so much for stopping by

this is a SAFE space for all 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🇦🇫

my main character (reader) is female 95% of the time, however, you can expect MM, MFM, and non-binary characters..i love a challenge

i don’t have a tag list, i recommend turning on my post notifications 🔔✨

lastly, at this time i’m not taking requests (i put enough pressure on myself as is)

if you got this far, pat yourself on the back for that attention span. remember, it’s just words on a page, so enjoy ✨

the long game (m)

↳ sugar daddy au | yandere | drabbles | in progress

namjoon was never supposed to fall in love. the arrangement was simple. money for time, desire for indulgence, no strings, no expectations. he was supposed to be your provider, your safety net, the man you called when you wanted something but never needed anyone. but somewhere between the swipe of his black card and the way you sigh his name in the dark, he lost control.

anywhere but the end 1.2k

↳ taxi driver au | strangers | drabble | complete

there’s no destination. you get in the backseat of his taxi with no plan—only a heart full of ache and the hope that maybe if he just drives long enough, the noise in your head will quiet.

at ease (m) 4.2k

↳ idol au | established relationship | pfp | drabble | complete

he served his time. endured the silence. folded his longing into letters and tucked your name between the creases. now he’s home. and all that patience? about to unravel, one kiss at a time.

for eomma 4k

↳ idol au | established relationship | drabble | complete

seokjin never imagined that love could break him open this way. not until you handed him a child and slowly slipped out of reach. he held the world in his arms and watched it unravel in your silence, your sadness, your absence. but he stayed. for you. for her. for the family you’d dreamed of on quiet nights before everything changed.

from scratch 9.7k

↳ post apocalypse au | strangers to lovers | oneshot | complete

the end doesn’t come with fire or noise, but with flickering lights and silence. the world doesn’t end all at once. it unravels quietly, like breath leaving a body. it’s not fate or luck. just… timing and the choice to stay. it’s not a love story, not yet. just two people learning how to survive in a world that’s trying to forget them.

drunk on you 2.6k

↳ non-idol au | crack | established relationship | complete

you and jin are two drama queens in love, dangerously underskilled in the art of moderation and even worse at pretending you both don’t have a thing for the fridge. love is real. supervision is required.

point of contact (m) 7k

↳ idol au | establish relationship | drabble | complete

he’s finally done with his military service. the first of bts to be discharged, and damn, he looks good. it’s been 18 long months of timed visits, countdowns, and aching silences. but now he’s standing in the doorway broader, stronger, and softer. this isn’t a grand love story, that’s never been your thing. it’s a quiet one, the kind that finds you in the hallway with frosting on your cheek, and arms that never want to let go again.

he’s home and you’re exactly where he left his heart.

a gentle kind of forever (m) 4.3k

↳ ceo au | strangers to lovers | yandere | complete

there was always something different about the way he loved you. gentle, patient, like he was studying a language only he could understand. even when you'd parted, he carried you quietly in the soft folds of memory, never once questioning whether you'd return. and when you finally do... he knows. this time, he won't let you go.

he touches you like you're made of glass, speaks to you like every word has been rehearsed for years. there's comfort in his arms, safety in his silence. but behind the calm is a devotion that doesn't waver, doesn't yield. It waits, it watches, it binds. you think you've come back to something familiar. but you're stepping into a love that never left. one that's willing to reshape the world just to keep you close.

one | epilogue

where we left off (m) 4.4k

↳ college au | friends to lovers | drabble | complete

you’ve spent years dancing around the inevitable—soft glances, blurred lines, and too many nights pretending not to want more. but when the game finally ends, nothing feels casual anymore. not his touch. not his kiss. and definitely not the way he says you’ve always been his.

terms of surrender (m) 4.9k

↳ idol au | established relationship | drabble | complete

he always left a piece of himself behind when he went away. now he’s trying to remember where he put it. a slow burning love letter to quiet homes, messy reunions, half eaten cake, and the way someone’s touch can make a tired soul feel whole again.

class of ‘69 (m) 17.3k

↳ class reunion au | friends to lovers | series | complete

hoseok and gahee were the ultimate high school oddballs—chubby goofball meets nerdy wallflower, bonded by awkward moments and bad cafeteria food. until time and distance pulled them apart.

fast forward ten years, and life has seriously leveled them up.the night before their high school reunion, they meet at a bar—except they don't recognize each other. flirty banter? check.off the charts chemistry? double check. one steamy, no strings attached hookup in the bathroom? ...oops.

cut to the reunion, where their eyes meet across the room, and bam—realization hits like an embarrassing yearbook photo. as they navigate nosy classmates, cringey memories, and some seriously awkward tension, one question remains: was their wild night a hilarious mistake... or the perfect setup for a second chance?

one | two | three | four | five | six

the fire between us (m) 2.6k

↳ mafia au | yandere | exes to lovers | drabble | complete

he would have torn the world apart to find you. and when you left him—believing the worst of him, believing he was a monster—he simply waited. patient. certain.

because you were always his. you always would be.

the world can rage and rot outside these walls, but here, in the home he built for you, nothing will ever come between you again.

not fear. not doubt. not even you.

what you make me (m) 4.7k

↳ office au | friends to lovers | yandere | drabble | complete

taehyung was never just hoseok's friend, not really. Five years of unspoken tension shattered by one kiss, leaving hoseok afraid of feelings he can't deny and taehyung too obsessed to let go.

avoidance only fans the fire, and when taehyung finally snaps, their friendship burns into something brutal, messy, and possessive. love was never supposed to look like this... but taehyung doesn't care. he's not letting hoseok run.

stick shift (m) 15.8k

↳ street racing au | rivals to lovers | two shot | complete

they call you ghost. you call him sunshine. you're gasoline and gold. he's grit and fire. you meet where engines snarl and neon flickers, where flirting tastes like violence and victory smells like smoke. no one really wins here. not without bleeding for it. but god, you both keep trying.

one | two

waiting in the water (m) 38.9k

↳ mermaid au | strangers to lovers | series | complete

when alma finds an injured man on the shore, she has no idea he belongs to a world beyond her own. jimin is unlike anyone she's ever met—mischievous yet gentle, with an undeniable pull that draws her in. as he helps her find joy again, she opens his eyes to the beauty of life on land, and their connection deepens into something neither of them can ignore.

but jimin's presence hasn't gone unnoticed, and forces from the sea threaten to tear them apart. with the weight of two worlds pressing down on them, alma and jimin must decide if love is enough to bridge the divide—or if some destinies can never be rewritten.

beyond the shore (m)

↳ mermaid au | established relationship | series | complete

jimin, once fearless beneath the waves, now struggles to find his footing as a father and partner on unfamiliar shores. alma, strong and steady, holds their little family together as doubts quietly creep in. when their son’s fragile health threatens to pull them all under, jimin must face the part of himself he thought he left behind… and decide how far he’s willing to go for the ones he loves.

a house between us (m) 12.9k

↳ entrepreneur au | strangers to lovers | trio | complete

he moved in next door with a job to do, then he saw you. polite, perfect, hiding bruises behind your smile. now your husband’s dead. jimin’s in your bed. and the only thing more dangerous than his devotion…is how much you love being kept.

one | two | three

safe & sound (m) 5.8k

↳ idol au | established relationship | pfp | drabble | complete

you waited the last six months for the love of your life to come home. and when he finally does with his uniform crisp, with open arms, smile bright—you realize some things can’t be rehearsed. some things break the script entirely. especially the kind of love that arrives shaking, breathless, and swollen with surprise.

borrowed time (m) 7.3k

↳ military au | strangers to lovers | angst | series | complete

trapped behind enemy lines after a mission goes sideways, staff sergeant kim taehyung is forced to navigate a war torn city alone. his only objective is to regroup with his unit—until he stumbles upon a civilian woman hiding from the chaos. with danger closing in, he makes a split second decision to help her reach safety.

one | two | three | four | five | six

table four 7.4k

↳ college au | strangers to lovers | drabble | complete

when he sees you at a campus café on a random tuesday, he knows he has to know you. but you’ve sworn off love after a brutal breakup and want nothing more than to focus on yourself. what starts with a croissant and a crooked smile slowly turns into study sessions, spontaneous adventures, and a love story neither of you saw coming.

what you make me (m) 4.7k

↳ office worker au | friends to lovers | yandere | drabble | complete

taehyung was never just hoseok’s friend, not really. Five years of unspoken tension shattered by one kiss, leaving hoseok afraid of feelings he can’t deny and taehyung too obsessed to let go.

avoidance only fans the fire, and when taehyung finally snaps, their friendship burns into something brutal, messy, and possessive. love was never supposed to look like this… but taehyung doesn’t care. he’s not letting hoseok run.

honorably discharged (m) 4.4k

↳ idol au | established relationship | pfp | drabble | complete

he served his country. now he’s coming home to you. eighteen months of distance. eighteen months of longing, discipline, and denial. but no amount of time, no uniform, no public ceremony can restrain him once he sees you again.

under all that shy (m) 16.8k

↳ office au | coworkers to lovers | fluffy and filthy

introducing the softest man alive who's been in love with you since the day you offered him half your highlighter pack and smiled like it meant something. he fixes the printer without being asked. brings you the wrong coffee order on purpose and blushes every time you say thank you.

for years, he's loved you quietly. from a respectful distance. never daring to hope you might look at him the way he's always looked at you-like you hung the moon.

but now? there's a chance.

and taehyung, who has never been bold, never been reckless, decides this time... he has to be. because some things are worth the risk. and you've always been one of them.

one | two

headcanons

• ex husband taehyung

bad decisions (m) 5.9k

↳ biker au | secret relationship | drabble | complete

by day, jeongguk is the youngest heir of the noble seven—untouchable, lethal, and born into power. by night, he's the ghost on a matte black Husqvarna, tearing through city streets with recklessness only royalty can afford. but there's one thing he can't control: you. the girl he's been sneaking around with in stolen hours and secret places. when a high stakes race throws you back into his path, a charged game of cat and mouse ignites—your biting words matched only by the heat in his stare.

later that night, you find yourself exactly where you swore you shouldn't be—underneath him, breathless and begging for more. but what starts as a heady, sweat slicked surrender spirals into something neither of you expect. in the quiet between moans and the hush that follows release, something shifts. words are whispered that neither of you can take back.

the night always finds you (m) 1.9k

↳ assassin au | unspoken relationship | drabble | complete

every time he comes back to you bruised, bloodied, and alive, it’s a stolen miracle. in the hush of a rain soaked morning, without words, jungkook finally shows you what his silence has always meant.

stolen orbit (m) 13.6k

↳ alien au | yandere | enemies to lovers | two shot | complete

you were meant for eradication with the rest of your planet—erased without a trace, just another speck in the galaxy’s endless purge. but jeongguk saw you. fragile, insignificant… human. and something his kind had long forgotten stirred in him. instead of erasing your existence, he took you, stole you from extinction and made you his.

now you live in a celestial cage, adored and possessed by something not quite capable of love, but desperate to keep you. he doesn’t understand your fear, your resistance, but he craves your surrender all the more because of it. and if it takes breaking you to make you his completely… he will.

one | two

at your feet (m) 8.8k

↳ idol au | established relationship | pfp | drabble | complete

he’s home. eighteen months of discipline, distance, and denial. and now, the front door clicks shut behind him. the flashes stop. the noise fades. and all that’s left is you.

your voice. your rules. your power.

he remembers everything. every command. every ache. every way he was made to perform for you. and tonight, after all this time, he finally gets to please you again.

one simple thing 7k

↳ idol au | established relationship | fluff | drabbles | complete

you asked your husband for one thing…pads with wings. how wrong could his little trip to the grocery store go?

493 notes · View notes

makingfanfictionstosleep · 2 months ago

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the cure to his curse

sylus x non mc || angst & hurt || happy ending || mc is kinda pick me || drabble out of boredom that spiraled into a series while listening to linkin park's song - heavy || could be triggering for others so read at your own risk || this is not smut || story masterlist : love and deepspace

previous || the cure to his nightmare [zayne version]

ELEVEN

Your breath hitched as Sylus reached you.

You heard MC huff indignantly, a sound of profound displeasure, but you ignored her.

Sylus did too.

The world seemed to stop, shrinking down to just the two of you as he towered over you. Hesitantly, carefully, you reached out and rested your palm on his chest, right where his heart beat.

A sob, unwilling to be contained, escaped your lips as you felt the steady rhythm under your touch. He was alive.

He was truly, miraculously alive.

Sylus gasped as he felt your touch, his crimson eyes, usually so guarded, wide with disbelief. He watched your reaction, searched your face, a mirroring uncertainty in his gaze, as if he too was trying to determine if this was dream, illusion, or breathtaking reality.

Then, with a relieved sigh, he cupped your face tenderly, his thumb gently wiping away the tears that spilled from your eyes. You nestled your cheek into the warmth of his hand, relishing the familiar sensation.

He pulled you to his chest, and you allowed yourself to fall into his embrace, your legs finally giving way, unable to hold back the sobs that wracked your body.

His strong arms wrapped around you, his hand caressing your hair, your head, your shoulders, and your back.

"I'm back," he whispered softly against your temple, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry for causing such a scare. Thank you… thank you for holding everything together. For Onychinus, for me."

Suddenly, MC's voice shattered the moment, sharp and accusing, laced with victimhood. "Sylus! What is this nonsense? Why are you embracing her? I've always been your destined mate!"

Sylus turned, a subtle shift in his posture indicating he had regained some of his formidable balance, though still a bit unsteady. His gaze, piercing and calm, fixed on MC.

"Can you still feel the invisible cuff on your wrist?" he asked, his voice low. "The one that bound us together?"

With all her ingrained confidence, MC lifted her wrist, expecting to see the faint, ethereal shimmer of the bond.

But she saw nothing.

Her brow furrowed in confusion, then her gaze snapped back to Sylus, who had raised his own wrist, now conspicuously bare, free of any binding.

Sylus glanced at you, then back at MC.

"While I was slipping away," he began, his voice soft, almost melancholic, "close to death, I saw a vision. Chains being broken. And a new link forming."

His eyes, filled with an indescribable tenderness, met yours.

"The new link isn't heavy. It's… full of warmth."

It dawned on you then, a realization that hit you like a physical slap. The day you’d desperately saved him, in the chaotic adrenaline of the moment, you’d completely forgotten about it.

The glowing, pulsating bracelet, a cuff, chains, whatever it was, that had formed on your wrist, connected to an identical one on Sylus's.

The bond that linked him and MC had simply vanished.

'The fucking true love's kiss according to Zayne's ridiculous theories,' you thought.

MC stood in disbelief, muttering, "No… that's not how it's supposed to happen. Nobody can break fate. Nobody can bend destiny."

Tears streamed down her face, frantic and inconsolable, unable to accept that the curse she had placed on Sylus, the chains that bound him through lifetimes, were finally, irrevocably broken.

Sylus simply looked at her, his expression a mix of melancholy and a deep, resolute peace.

"Perhaps," he said, his voice imbued with a newfound clarity, "it's because she gave me all her love. Her undivided heart. Her life to me, and me alone."

He looked at you, his sharp features softened, "Even if I don't deserve her love, she still gave me her everything."

He paused, his gaze unwavering as he spoke to you directly, "I wish to reciprocate it. I wish to love on my own will, to be with someone I desire, with someone who forged connections from nothing, who fought by my side through hell and back."

His eyes held yours, filled with a quiet, powerful yearning. "I want that person to be you. Only if you accept me. My love. Despite everything."

MC was inconsolable, her sobs echoing in the room. Zayne, looking utterly exhausted, his own heart aching from MC's blatant disregard for his feelings, remained composed. He gently, but firmly, ushered MC out of the room.

Luke and Kieran, sensing the profound intimacy of the moment, also exited, positioning themselves as silent sentinels outside the door.

You and Sylus were left alone. You walked towards him, seeing him wobble slightly, his weakened body still protesting. You guided him gently back to his bed, and he pulled you into his arms, fully inhaling your scent as he nuzzled your neck.

"I missed you," he muttered against your skin, and you simply hugged him tighter, the warmth of his presence a comfort you’d craved for so long.

He pulled away slightly, still keeping you cradled in his embrace, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that laid bare his deepest emotions.

For the first time, there were no masks, no walls.

He was terrified, guilty, yearning, hoping, and most of all, his love for you shone brightly in those beautiful crimson eyes.

"Will you… give me another chance?" he asked again, his voice raw with vulnerability.

You couldn't speak. Words felt inadequate, lost in the overwhelming surge of emotion. But you knew what you wanted.

You wanted him.

All of him.

You nodded, tears blurring your vision as you managed a tremulous smile.

Then, you leaned forward, your lips finding his, pressing a soft kiss.

He gasped, a small sound of surprise, then kissed you back, and you melted into his arms, utterly consumed.

You both settled onto the bed, acutely aware of the countless challenges that awaited you once he was fully recovered.

But for now, in this moment, you had each other.

You gave yourselves this time, this space, until you were both ready to face the world together, no longer shadowed by a cruel curse, but strengthened by a love freely chosen, deeply felt.

★ 𝓯𝓲𝓷 ★

a/n : i've always wanted to write something like this, inspired by the lads x non-mc stories that i've read. i know its kinda rushed, a bit messy, but if you have reached this part — thank you for reading.❤︎ feel free to reblog, drop any messages and check my other stories. x

#love and deepspace #lads #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus #sylus lads #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x you #sylus x non mc #lads x non mc #love and deepspace fanfiction

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idkwhylou · 6 days ago

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Don’t push it

Summary : What happens when someone who hates sugar fall for the one person who practically is it ? Harry Castillo doesn’t do small talk, doesn’t sit down, doesn’t stay. But then there’s you, the barista with the mismatched mugs, and a way of turning his carefully managed silence into something as warm as his boring black coffee.

Harry Castillo x f!reader/barista!reader

Warnings : a bit of angst but fluff, grumpy and closed off Harry, romcom café, bit of jealousy, no y/n

Words : 7,5K

A/N : 600 CELEBRATION !!! Thank you so much 🫶🏻. Here's a Harry one shot to pass the time while waiting for "The Deal" ! (I loved the paring so much I thought of so many cute little drabbles). Sorry I didn’t edited I was too lazyyy

⋆˚࿔⋆. 𝓗𝓒 .⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

New York is a city built on friction—tire treads against slick pavement, the scrape of heels on subway stairs, the hush of breath before the walk sign flips, the shrill cries of cabs trying to find a place in the daily traffic. At 7:23 a.m., it hums with purpose. Precision. People know where they’re going. And so does Harry Castillo.

Or—usually, he does.

His shoes hit the pavement with the sharp, measured cadence of someone who’s always on time and never interested in small talk. His coat is pressed, dark, and expensive in a way that whispers rather than shouts. His inbox has already been cleared and his assistant is already texting updates.

Everything was running on schedule.

Until the gleaming façade of his café—the ultra-minimalist one with black steel beams, cold brew on tap, and coffee that comes in identical matte cups without names or smiles—was closed.

Not “opening soon” or “back in five.”

Closed.

A crooked paper taped to the glass reads:

PLUMBING INSPECTION. BACK SOON.

sorry, blame the city

Harry stared at the sign like it was personally betraying him.

His jaw ticked once.

The man had built entire mergers on controlling chaos, on making unknown variables bend to clean structure. But this ? This was something sloppier. His morning—his perfectly orchestrated, caffeine-anchored ritual—had been hijacked by a leaky pipe and a sharpie apology.

He could wait. Or walk back. Even delay. But instead, he turned. The city pressed around him: the smell of roasted peanuts from a cart already open on the corner, a woman in heels arguing with someone on Bluetooth, a man skateboarding past with a golden retriever in tow.

He walked south without a destination, checking his watch once, then again. At this hour, options were endless and uninspiring. The first place he passed had chalkboard specials with misspelled words. The second was a Starbucks—hell no. The third smelled aggressively like vanilla-sugar candle and regret.

He nearly ditched the hunt entirely when his phone buzzed—Meeting at 7:45, conference room 19A—and the time on his watch reminded him he won’t make it if he keeps wandering. So, against his better judgment, he headed straight to the office. Without coffee. The betrayal stinged.

By 8:32, Harry was seated stiffly across from a client in a Midtown conference room that smelled like stale carpet and fluorescent lighting. The man—a VP of something Harry didn’t particularly care about—was droning on about quarterly projections and engagement metrics with the passion of soggy toast, waving his hands just enough to occasionally slosh foam precariously over the lip of his expensive-looking paper cup.

Harry stared at the drink like it had personally wronged him. His own hands were empty. No coffee. No mercy. Now, caffeine-deprived and watching foam art bob like a middle finger in a paper cup, he could feel the headache forming just behind his temples.

“Where’d you get that ?” He asked finally, cutting in.

The man grinned like he found Harry’s suffering vaguely amusing. “Oh, around the corner from here. Cozy little place with tons of plants. Great coffee. And,” he added with a smirk, “the barista’s really hot. Which doesn’t hurt.”

Harry blinked slowly. “Right.”

“I’m serious,” the man said, tipping his cup toward him. “Try it. It’s good. Real cozy vibe.”

Harry exhaled sharply through his nose; the kind of noise that makes interns brace themselves. “I just need caffeine.”

“Then go there. You’ll like it. Plus, the coffee’s legit.”

Harry didn’t dignify it with a response. But later, when he found himself retracing those steps, it was not the compliment that swayed him, it was the promise of legit coffee. Everything else, he told himself, was irrelevant.

The café was wedged between a florist and an ancient-looking dry cleaner. Brick walls. A slightly fogged-up window. Plants lined on the sill, pressed like people trying to get a look. The door was open just enough to let out the low thrum of music. The sign outside read, in looping chalk script: Weird coffee, warm people.

Harry huffed.

The place looked like it was decorated by someone who never heard the word “branding,” and yet he stepped inside anyway. The door jingled softly behind him and immediately, the lights changed as the city noise faded like someone turned the dial.

From the moment he walked in, it felt like stepping into someone’s living room—if that someone was impossibly cool, wildly creative, and had a thing for color palettes that shouldn’t work but absolutely do in a way that made Harry grimace.

The walls were a soft, sun-washed pink on one side and sage green on the other, both gently faded from the light streaming through tall, slightly crooked windows. Plants—hanging, potted, climbing—were everywhere: above the door, trailing from bookshelves, hugging the edges of mismatched tables. Some were leafy and oversized, some were little trailing tendrils tucked in old ceramic mugs, their names written on popsicle sticks.

Furniture didn’t match neither, not even close. There was a velvet couch in a warm pink tone with slightly wonky legs, a pale yellow armchair with floral embroidery on the back, wire-frame café chairs painted a weird shade of green beside a vintage table scuffed just enough to be charming. One stool was an old piano bench. Another looked like it was swiped from a kid’s art class.

The mugs were all different, too. Some were speckled pottery. Some were pastel and chipped in a lovable way. A few were stolen from old diners or thrifted and printed with things like ‘World’s Okayest Dad’ or ‘I’d Rather Be Sleeping’.

There was also a corner with books—paperbacks with cracked spines, a few old travel guides, a coffee table book about mushrooms, and one on cosmic horror that has been mysteriously bookmarked on chapter six for months.

Above that, a small record player sat on a low shelf, spinning old jazz or indie vinyl, depending on the mood. A handwritten sign read: Records played at barista’s whim. No skips. No regrets.

Photos and Polaroids covered the wall behind the counter—customers smiling, dogs in sunbeams, latte art disasters, staff birthday parties. And there was a sticky note that said “We once found a frog in the sink. He was very polite.”

Harry didn’t belong here, and it was deadly obvious. The café wasn’t busy at all, but he was already two steps in when he realized he was still holding tension in his shoulders. The counter was short, hand-painted, and probably repainted a dozen times. A tip jar labeled "Caffeine Bribes & Bad Decisions" sat near the register.

You glanced up from behind the counter, eyeing the newcomer like you were already making guesses. You saw the coat first. Then the shoes. The precise haircut. The tension in his shoulders. Everything about him screamed Wall Street, or something near it.

You offered a smile anyway—just enough to be polite. Not enough to pretend he was kind of special. “Morning. What can I get you ?” Your tone was casual. A little rough-edged from talking too early. Not performative.

Harry stepped forward and scanned the chalkboard menu, expression unreadable as his eyes skim past rose cardamom cold brew and maple thyme cortado. He exhaled, already skeptical. Then he looked up and paused.

Fuck. You are really hot.

Not in the obvious, magazine-cover way. It was something quieter. The rolled sleeves, the sharp eyes, the way you were effortlessly moving between the espresso machine and register like you had already outpaced the morning. There was confidence in how you didn’t try too hard or try at all.

He straightened slightly, clearing his throat. “Lavender-honey oat latte ?” He dared to ask.

“A favorite !” You said, unfazed.

His brows furrowed, “I just need a black coffee. No flavors. No—” he gestured vaguely, “—foam. Just coffee.”

You nodded once and he got the sense you were holding back a smirk. “Bold move in a place like this.”

You turned to make it, pulling beans from a tin marked “Bold AF”. You moved with practiced ease—not rushed, not showy. Just efficient. You grinded the beans by hand, pulled the espresso with a vintage machine that hissed like it had opinions.

Harry didn’t notice you glancing back at him—just briefly. His suit was sharp, his tie perfect but his jaw looked tight, and there was something just slightly disheveled about the way his hair was falling today. Like he rushed. Like something messed with his rhythm.

And when you handed the coffee over two minutes later—strong, dark and very intentionally not in a plain takeaway cup. You added a small cinnamon heart on the lid. Nothing big, just a tiny shape tucked into the corner.

He stared at it for a good minute, then at you. “What’s… this ?”

“Flair,” you replied simply with a chuckle. “First-timers get a little something.”

He didn’t reply. Just paid, took the cup and walked outside, back into the city’s sharper air. He stopped after a few paces, just near the corner. Took a sip. And stilled.

It was good. Like, really good. Annoyingly good. The kind of good that made him suspicious. Rich, dark, the perfect balance of bitter and smooth—and he hated that it made his usual place feel clinical in comparison.

He looked back once through the window. You were already helping someone else, pulling a shot one-handed and nodding along to whatever they were saying.

You didn’t glance at him again.

And so, Harry took another sip.

Then, against his better judgment, he made a mental note of the address. Because Harry Castillo—who does not deviate, who does not get distracted, who absolutely does not return to coffee shops because of strangers—already knows he’ll be back tomorrow.

⋆˚࿔⋆. 𝓗𝓒 .⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The next morning, the bell jingled at 7:48.

You glanced up from where you were restocking the pastry case—expecting a regular, maybe one of the grad students who camps out in the corner with oat milk and a thesis. Instead, you saw the same man from yesterday. Suit, coat, furrowed brow. Just slightly less tightly wound.

Harry walked in like he didn’t spend ten minutes outside debating it. You didn’t greet him right away, just finished lining up the muffins, slow and deliberate. And when you finally met his gaze, you tilted your head.

“Back for more boring coffee ?”

“You were open. That’s all.”

“Mmhm.”

His mouth twitched like he might smile if you pushed. He ordered the same thing. Black. No fluff. And you made it quickly, no cinnamon this time, but you did hand it over with your fingers brushing just a little closer to his than necessary. Not dramatically. Just... enough.

“Here you go, Mr. Boring-Black-Coffee.”

“I didn’t give you my name.”

“Don’t need it. You’re a type.”

That earned you a pause. His brow lifted, ever so slightly. “And what type is that ?”

You shrugged, like it was not worth saying out loud. Maybe it was not. Maybe it was more fun leaving it in the air like that, unfinished. He paid in cash, leaved with a nod. And you watched the back of him through the window, just for a second. Then you shook your head, half-smiling to yourself, and turned back to your espresso machine.

⋆˚࿔⋆. 𝓗𝓒 .⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

By the end of the second week, you didn’t need to look up when the door jingled at 8:12.

He was starting to come in just late enough to miss the crush of early commuters, no line, no noise, just you and the quiet of the café in its softest hour. Some days, he even beats you to the register.

“Missed the morning rush,” you noted once, setting down your mug.

“Lucky me.” He replied, dry.

“You say that like you didn’t plan it.”

He didn’t respond, which was a response in his own way.

Since the end of the first week, you’d stopped asking for his order. It was always the same after all. But that didn’t mean things were predictable. Sometimes you threw in a cookie with his coffee and pretended it was a mistake. He never returned it. Sometimes he dropped an extra buck in the tip jar, folded neatly in thirds, and you pretended not to notice.

One morning, you glanced at the name on his metal card as he taped to pay.

“Harry ?”

He didn’t looked up. “It’s on the card.”

“Wow. So formal. You don’t do introductions ?”

“Not usually in places with chalkboard menus.”

You grin. “We contain multitudes, Harry.”

That day, he made a sound that might be a scoff, or might be the start of a laugh.

The banter became a kind of punctuation to your mornings. He was always slightly impatient, always a little clipped, but he never skipped a day. And you never forgot the way his eyes linger just a second longer each time he leaves—like he’s about to say something and thinks better of it.

One morning, you caught him smiling after one of your usual teasing comments. A real one. Brief. Crooked. Gone in a blink. He looked away so fast it almost didn’t count. But it did, for you at least.

But what made your heart beating a little faster was last Thursday. It was raining faintly, the kind that slicks the pavement without the drama of thunder. Just enough to make the city quieter, and everyone a little sleepier.

Harry stepped into the café right at 8:10, brushing a raindrop from his collar. He didn’t say anything as the bell jingled—he never does—but he didn’t need to. You were already pulling a cup for his usual, your hand reaching without looking.

“The weather makes people polite,” You said casually, sliding his drink across the counter. “Or slow. Either way, I’m winning.”

“Is this what winning looks like ?” He asked, nodding toward his boring order.

“A win is a win.” You shrugged, fingers brushing the espresso machine’s worn brass.

He didn’t smile again, but he did stay at the counter a little longer than usual. He lingered like he sometimes did, standing with that quiet tension in his shoulders, like he was waiting for a reason to stay longer.

And then someone behind him spoke.

“Harry ?”

He turned, mid-sip. You watched the slight shift in his expression—a flicker of something immediately guarded. Derek something. Loud. Marketing guy. The kind of man who thought a wink could replace a personality.

“Didn’t peg you for this kind of place,” Derek said, adjusting his tie that didn’t match his sneakers. “Bit artsy for you, isn’t it ?”

“It’s close.” Harry replied flatly.

But Derek’s gaze had already moved—to you. “Ohhh,” he grinned, eyes gleaming with implication. “Now I get it.”

You raised an eyebrow, already bracing. He stepped closer to the counter, all teeth and confidence. “Hey,” he said smoothly, “what do you recommend for someone who doesn’t know what he wants, but knows it has to be good ?”

You blinked at him. Smirked. “Therapy.” You deadpanned. “But I can start you with a maple latte.”

Derek laughed too loudly, like he thought it scored him points. But you weren’t looking at him anymore. You were looking at Harry. He hadn’t moved. Not really. Just stepped a little to the side, his jaw set slightly tighter than before. Still sipping his coffee. Still silent. But present. Watching. And now that you were paying attention—tense. Not annoyed. Not jealous, not exactly. But something. Possessive, maybe. Protective. Or simply... not indifferent.

Your heart beat a little harder as you turned back to Derek with a forced smile. “To-go, right ?”

“Yeah,” Derek said with a grin, clearly mistaking the tension for an opening.

You gave him a tight smile, already turning to the machine. The motion was smooth, practiced, but your jaw clenched slightly as you reached for the syrup. You didn’t answer. Let the steam do the talking.

Derek laughed like he thought he was charming and leaned in just a little too close when he gave you his name for the cup. You wrote it without reacting, keeping your expression neutral, but Harry noticed the slight twitch at the corner of your mouth. The glance you cast past Derek, not toward the drink, but toward him.

And yes—he was still watching.

“So,” Derek began, shifting his weight like he was planning to stick around, “how long have you two...?”

“We haven’t.” Harry cut in. Crisp. Immediate.

The silence that followed wasn’t loud, but it was sharp. You blinked, surprised—your gaze catching his. A flicker of amusement. But underneath it... something else. You weren’t the only one who noticed the edge in his voice.

Derek laughed again, oblivious and smug. “Alright, alright. Touchy subject.”

You handed him the cup with a smile so polished it could cut glass. “Here you go, Derek. Something good. Can’t guarantee it’ll help your judgment, though.”

You didn’t look back at Harry right away. You felt the shift, the energy in the air as he turned, coffee in hand, jaw set like stone. “Harry,” you called, casual but just enough to stop him. “Everything alright ?”

He paused mid-step. Didn’t turn fully, just tilted enough for you to see the line of tension in his shoulders. “Fine,” he said. “You’re busy.”

“Wasn’t. You could’ve stayed.”

And there it was, the flicker you couldn’t name. His hand curled a little tighter around the cup. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something real. “Next time,” he muttered, leaving without looking back.

You watched him go, your heart tapping just a little faster while erek was already at the corner table, feet up, completely unaware he was background noise to something much more interesting. You glanced down at the screen near the register, Harry’s name was still open on the tab. Unpaid. Unfinished. Still there.

⋆˚࿔⋆. 𝓗𝓒 .⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Harry walked in, same time as always—except something was off.

The music was different. Too upbeat. The tip jar was missing its usual sarcastic sign. And the barista behind the counter—a tall guy with a septum ring and a “Don’t talk to me before noon” t-shirt—didn’t even blink when he walked in.

No cinnamon in the air. No dry joke waiting at the register. But he ordered anyway. The usual. The guy made it fast, handed it off with a vague, “Here you go, man” leaving in front of him a blue mug with clouds on it. Then, he turned away before Harry could say a word about his order.

But strangely Harry decided to sat, accepting the mistake. He never sat before. Not once. Always in and out—efficient, upright, suited. A sharp line in a soft room. But now, he was in the corner by the window, elbow on the table, coffee in hand. The chair was a little too low, the cushion a little too floral. Still, he sat. Maybe out of stubbornness. Maybe out of something he doesn’t want to name. Perhaps for once he should take the time to sit down.

So, he took his first sip and frowned. It was technically the same drink. The same beans. The same method even. But it was not yours. And Harry felt like it was missing... something. It didn’t taste like a moment. It just tasted like a boring black coffee.

Halfway through the mug, he’d barely tasted any of it. His jaw was tight, leg bouncing beneath the mismatched table like he was waiting for someone to argue with him. Or maybe for the taste to change.

And then the door opened.

You step inside—no apron, no clipboard, just jeans and an oversized hoodie with the sleeves pushed up. You got got rain in your hair and a box of something under your arm, but the second you saw him, you stopped.

Your brow lifted, slow, skeptical. A soft grin tugging at your mouth. “Seriously ?” You called across the room, your voice teasing but edged with genuine surprise. “You sit down for the first time when I’m not here ?”

Harry blinked as you watched the faint flicker of guilt cross his face before he masked it with deadpan calm. “Felt like a safe window.”

You cross the room slowly, hands tucked into the pouch of your hoodie, the laces of your sneakers squeaking faintly on the scuffed wood floor. “So what I’m hearing is, I’m the problem ?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t not say it either.” You were grinning now—wide, easy, amused—and the corner of Harry’s mouth did that thing it sometimes did when he was not fast enough to hide it. A smile, halfway there.

“Coffee okay today ?” You asked, tilting your head.

He hesitated. Briefly glanced down at the cup like it might help him lie better. “It’s fine.”

“Wow. Glowing review.”

“It’s different.”

“Well yeah,” you shrugged, gesturing toward the barista behind the counter. “I didn’t make it.”

“That explains the joyless undertones.”

“Tom’s great,” you replied with a mock whisper, “but he thinks smiling is capitalism.”

“Isn’t a café already a product of capitalism ?”

You blinked, then snorted. “Sure. But mine has better music and mismatched chair, so it’s practically a revolution.”

A faint smile tugged at his mouth, almost like he forgot how it worked. He didn’t follow it with a quip, didn’t deflect. Just… lingered.

There was a soft pause as your gaze lingered on him, a little more curious now. The air between you held something heavier than the usual teasing, like it wanted to shift but hadn’t decided which way yet.

“You always rush out,” you said quietly. “What changed today ?”

Harry’s eyes drifted to the cup in front of him, his fingers brushing its rim once like it might hold the answer. “Just didn’t have a reason to leave yet.”

You almost answered. Almost let that sit and settled into something braver. “I had a thing this morning by the way. Didn’t want to let you down, so you know.”

The beat hung, and so you tapped your index finger once on the edge of his table as you shoot him a quick, tilted smile. “Next time I’m not working,” you added, shooting him a smirk, ‘maybe you’ll even talk to someone.”

“Doubtful.”

“But not impossible.”

“Don’t push it.”

You laughed—really laughed this time, not the small ones you throw over your shoulder—and it softened something in him. Just a little. Just enough. Then you pivoted, heading behind the counter to grab something from the back, your hoodie swinging lightly with each step.

Harry watched you go, and there was that look again—that flicker of something unspoken, stitched right into the crease between his brows. You reappeared a few minutes later, now clutching a drink that looked like it was conjured by a chaotic fairy. It was iced, topped with a pillowy layer of foam, and glittering with crushed lavender and edible shimmer that catches the light every time it moved. Something purple swirled near the bottom, alchemizing slowly.

Harry stared at it like it might sprout wings and fly off.

“Don’t look at it like that,” you said, sliding into the seat across from him. “It’s harmless.”

“It looks like a Pinterest board had a nervous breakdown.”

“High praise from a man whose entire personality is black coffee.”

He didn’t argue. Just lifted a brow, eyes still suspicious of whatever’s floating in your cup. You both sipped—your drink with an audible crunch of ice, his still piping hot. The café hummed around you, the usual cocktail of vinyl crackle and quiet voices, wooden chairs scraping lazily, a milk frother sighing in the distance. The space felt folded in: soft edges and warm light, like time outside has slowed without telling anyone in here.

“So,” you said eventually, leaning back like you’d been meaning to ask this for weeks, “what do you do, Harry-with-no-introductions ?”

“Finance.”

You rolled your eyes, “Of course you do.”

“And you’re judging me.”

“A little. You give off big spreadsheet energy. Like you use Excel for your grocery lists.”

He raised an eyebrow—again, not denying it. You swirled your drink and narrowed your eyes in mock scrutiny. “What does that mean, exactly ?”

“It means you’ve never spilled anything in your life,” you say, “and if someone moved your desk organizer by half an inch, you’d call building security.”

“...I’ve considered it.” He admitted, deadpan.

You laughed—a quick, full sound, like the punchline was better than expected. And something in Harry clicked, or maybe loosened. It was not the first time he’d heard you laugh, but now it hit differently. Now he hears how completely it contrasts him—how light and unguarded it is. You were a tangle of color and instinct, while he was posture and rules and plans carved into calendars.

And yet here you were. Sitting across from him like it made perfect sense. He watched you—really watched you—for a moment too long, and you caught it.

“What ?”

He cleared his throat as his eyes dropped to his coffee like it suddenly needed studying.

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring like you’ve never talked to a human before.”

“I don’t usually talk to baristas.” He said—too fast, too flat.

Your expression flickered—surprised, maybe, but more amused than insulted. You tilted your head. “Well, this one talks back. So get used to it.”

And there it was—his smirk. Barely there, but real. He didn’t even try to hide it this time. The silence that follows didn’t rush to fill itself. His eyes drifted again to the way you cradled your cup like it was a conversation, the scuff on your sneaker, the ink stain blooming near the base of your thumb. He noticed a mismatched ring on your finger, and a tiny scar just beneath your left ear.

Suddenly he realizes he doesn’t know your name. And realizes—more quietly—that he wants to.

You swirled your drink a little, watching the foam dissolve slowly into lavender-specked chaos, the shimmer catching the light like it was trying to distract you from the silence between questions.

“So what do you do when you’re not... finance ?” You asked, chin resting in your palm. “Like, do you have hobbies ? Or is being emotionally repressed a full-time job ?”

He exhaled, sharp, dry, but amused. The corner of his mouth twitched. “You think you’re funny.”

“I know I’m funny. You just have a slow sense of humor.”

“I work a lot,” he said eventually. “Travel sometimes. Read.”

“Anything good ?”

“Mostly nonfiction. Strategy. Business.”

You groaned like he just told you he eats plain rice for every meal. “God. Do you sleep in a spreadsheet too ?”

“Why are you asking if you’re going to mock every answer ?”

“Because watching you react is my favorite part.”

That got something—the ghost of a smile, almost reluctant, tugging at the edge of his mouth like it was being dragged there against protocol. There was a pause. Then you glanced at him over the rim of your cup, your tone light, but with a small thread of genuine curiosity stitched through it:

“So what about your girlfriend ? Does she help color-code your bookshelves ?”

It landed like a pin dropped in a quiet room. Harry stilled—not obviously, nor dramaticly—just a blink that lasted half a beat too long. A tightness in his jaw. Like you nudged something he keeps locked too carefully to laugh off. You notices the flicker in his eyes, he was not used to being asked that. And especially not like this.

It was not a trap, he knew that. You asked it like someone who had slow afternoons behind the counter to wonder about everything. The question hung between you, and for a second, he didn’t answer.

“I—” he hesitated, that quiet stammer betrayed him. You tilted your head, curious as he shut it down fast.

You didn’t ask more—didn’t poke or pry—but the shift was there, hanging in the space between your mugs. His hand curled around the handle of his cup like it needed something to do. His eyes flicked to the door. You saw it happen—that moment when he pulled back inside himself.

“I should go.” He said suddenly, rising from the chair with almost surgical precision.

“Harry ?” You called for him but he avoided your gaze, looking at the still half-full coffee on the table.

“Thanks for the coffee.” His words were stiff, polite, wrong.

“Did I—”

“No.” He cut you off harshly, “I just... have work.” The words sounded like an old habit. Practiced. Easy to reach for when anything else might slip. The chair scraped back across the floor and he shrugged on his coat like armor, still avoiding your eyes.

You stared at him confused and quite lost, because for the first time since he walked into your café, Harry Castillo didn’t finished his drink. The bell above the door jingled, a little too cheerful for the mood he leaved behind. And just like that—he was gone.

⋆˚࿔⋆. 𝓗𝓒 .⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

It’s been four days. You didn’t count—you totally counted. No Harry in a suit gliding in just after the rush. No black coffee, no clipped sarcasm, no polite refusal of the free cookie you always sneaked into the bag anyway. Just... nothing.

You didn’t asked yourself why you noticed. You just did. And then—Wednesday.

The bell above the café door jingled at 10:07. You looked up, and there he was. Harry Castillo. Tie slightly crooked. Tension woven into his shoulders like it never left. You almost said something—almost made a comment about how the air quality improved in his absence—but the look on his face stopped you.

He walked up to the counter like it was any other day. No hesitation. No small talk. “Black coffee. To go.”

His voice was even. Professional. But quieter than usual—like he was playing a part he hadn’t rehearsed in a while. You nodded. Said nothing. Turned to make the order.

He watched, eyes scanning the familiar space—the same chairs, the same playlist humming low in the background, the same chalkboard menu. You could feel it: he didn’t want to be seen, not really. He just wanted to exist here, in the familiar warmth of something he might’ve started to like too much.

You slid the cup toward him once it was ready. “It’s hot.” You warned.

It was the only thing you let yourself say. He nodded once. Didn’t touch the cup right away. Just stood there like he might say something else, but whatever it was, he swallowed it down with the silence.

Then finally: “Thanks.”

Not thank you. Not hey, sorry I ghosted your entire café after getting weird about a girlfriend I don’t have.

Just “thanks.”

And just like that, he was gone again: coffee in hand, door jingling behind him, the scent of espresso and something unsaid still lingering in his place. You blinked. Exhaled. Looked at the empty spot where he stood.

“Seriously ?” You muttered to yourself, letting out a frustrated sigh. You reached under the counter and pull out the little cookie you would’ve slipped into his bag, and took a bite.

⋆˚࿔⋆. 𝓗𝓒 .⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Tonight, the restaurant was loud. Too loud. Laughter ricocheted off the tile floors and polished glass, all of it too bright, too crowded. Harry couldn’t remember how he’d been talked into this—probably something Lila arranged behind his back. She’d been making quiet comments lately about how pale he looked. How quiet he’d become.

He sat at the far end of the table, a glass of wine untouched in front of him, posture straight, jacket still on. He nodded occasionally, eyes flicking toward the speakers but never really listening. The noise washed over him like static—familiar, meaningless.

It was fine. Manageable. Forgettable.

But he was still counting the minutes.

“Harry,” someone called. Jackson. Of course. Too perceptive for his own good.

Harry’s eyes lifted lazily. “What ?”

Jackson grinned, elbow on the table. “You seeing anyone ?”

There was the briefest hitch—a pause so small no one else might have noticed. But the answer still came too quickly. “No.”

He reached for his wine, finally, but didn’t drink.

Across the table, Lila raised an eyebrow. “Still ?”

Harry didn’t answer. Just looked past her, toward the bar, like something more interesting might be happening over there.

“Jesus,” she muttered. “Are you seriously still not over Lucy ?”

The name landed hard, sharp against the table’s surface. Not a crash—just a clean, cold edge.

“I’m not hung up on Lucy.” He said evenly.

Jackson leaned in slightly. “You haven’t dated since.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You’ve been avoiding,” Lila countered. “Not the same thing.”

Harry stared at the glass in his hand, watching the slow run of condensation against the stem. Someone at the far end of the table was telling a story that got a laugh. He didn’t catch the punchline. Didn’t care.

But no one was changing the subject.

“Look,” Jackson said, tone softening. “We’re not trying to make this weird. It’s just—you’ve been... stuck. And it’s been, what ? Two years ?”

Harry’s jaw tightened. “One and a half.”

“Still counts,” Lila said gently.

He didn’t respond. Didn’t need to. His silence was answer enough.

A silence settled at the table—not tense, exactly, but weighted. Harry stared past the rim of his glass, jaw set. He hated how well they knew him. Hated that they weren’t wrong. Lucy was gone—clean exit, no fireworks, no begging. Just quiet disapproval, packed in neat boxes and left behind like unpaid bills.

But the residue lingered. Not grief, exactly. Just the memory of who he had to be when she looked at him. Like wallpaper he never bothered to rip down.

“I don’t need to throw myself into something just to prove I’ve moved on.” He said eventually.

“No one’s asking you to prove anything,” Lila replied, her voice softer now. “We’re saying maybe it wouldn’t kill you to let someone surprise you.”

Harry didn’t respond. But his hand flexed once on the stem of his glass. And his mind—without permission—went to the café. To crooked shelves and chipped mugs. To the smell of cardamom and the smudge of chalk menus. To you. Too many plants. Too many questions. And that look. That unsettling, gentle way of seeing him—like he wasn’t some brick wall of routine and control.

He drained the rest of his wine in one swallow. “Anyone want dessert ?” He asked flatly, like they hadn’t just dissected his love life on a white tablecloth.

A few minutes later, someone was poking at a crème brûlée. Jackson was checking his phone. The table had relaxed, the way groups do when the worst of the conversation has passed.

“By the way,” Jackson said, half-turned. “Heard your regular coffee place closed for a bit. What happened, plumbing ?”

Harry nodded, keeping his tone casual. “Something like that.”

Lila’s eyes lit up. “So where’ve you been getting your overpriced caffeine now, huh ?”

He hesitated just long enough to make it noticeable. “I found a new spot. Small place. Kinda weird.”

“Weird how ?” Jackson asked, smirking.

Harry gave a half-shrug. “Lots of plants. Some vinyl records. They serve stuff with rose foam.”

Lila leaned in, eyes narrowing. “Oh my god, is it that place ? On Hill Street ?”

“Yeah.”

“With the cute barista ?”

Harry blinked. Too slow to dodge it. “What ? No. I mean—she’s not—” he stopped, cleared his throat. “It’s not like that.”

“Sounds exactly like that.” Jackson said, nudging his glass toward him.

Harry didn’t look up. He was staring at the water ring on the table, brow furrowed like it had something to say. “She’s just... different.” He said, quieter this time.

And even though he didn’t mean to say more, even though he wanted to shut it all down and change the subject, the way he said different lingered.

Lila grinned. “You like her.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t deny it. Just reached for the last piece of dark chocolate on the plate and broke it in half like that might distract them. It didn’t.

“Different how ? Cute ? Feisty ? Does she make your coffee with extra sass ?” Jackson grinned trying to catch more informations, elbow on the table like he was settling in for a story.

Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t correct him. A reluctant smirk flickered as he swirled the wine in his glass. “She’s not what I expected.”

Lila leaned in, brow raised. “Yeah ?”

He paused like he might stop there, but then he shrugged, words coming a little slower now—carefully, like they might give too much away if he wasn’t precise. “She’s... the opposite of me. Has this thing with weird coffee flavors I’d never touch. And she doesn’t care that I don’t talk much.”

Jackson snorted. “Sounds exhausting.”

“It’s not,” Harry corrected, surprising even himself with how fast it came out.

Lila’s eyes lit up. “Oh, she’s definitely hitting on you.”

“She’s just being nice.” Harry muttered, trying to escape this tricky situation, even though he knew he was damned.

“No one’s that nice unless they want something,” Jackson said, grinning. “Even more so with someone like you.”

“What does that mean ?” Harry asked, squinting his eyes but Jackson brushed it off.

“Maybe she just enjoys the challenge.” Lila teased.

“She wouldn’t be the first.” Jackson added with mock gravity.

Harry gave a dry laugh and shook his head, trying not to smile. But the corner of his mouth betrayed him anyway. “She’s just a barista.” He said, too flat to be convincing.

“Lila hummed, swirling her glass. “A very interested barista.”

The table laughed, loud and teasing—but Harry stayed quiet, eyes on the rim of his glass, that same smile playing like a secret at the edge of his mouth. “Maybe,” he murmured, so soft he wasn’t sure they heard it.

But Lila did. And she didn’t say anything else—just sipped her wine with a knowing little grin.

⋆˚࿔⋆. 𝓗𝓒 .⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The next morning, Harry groaned as the sunlight hit his face—sharp and uninvited—but he didn’t argue when Lila all but dragged him across the street. Her grip on his arm was more metaphorical than physical, but he followed, the reluctant companion to whatever mission she’d decided they were on.

“Come on,” she said over her shoulder, clearly enjoying herself.

“I’m not here for small talk.” Harry muttered, tugging his coat tighter.

“No one said you had to talk,” Lila replied breezily. “Just sit. Drink coffee. Pretend you’re normal.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t stop. The walk wasn’t long, just across the street, but every step made his nerves feel a little louder. Inside the café, you were behind the counter wiping down the espresso machine, the quiet hum of the grinder filling the space in the way conversation usually would. The morning rush had slowed. Everything smelled like cinnamon and espresso and steam.

The bell above the door jingled, you glanced up automatically—and froze.

Harry.

And next to him, a woman. Tall, confident, with bold lipstick and a smirk like she knew exactly where she was going. She walked with the kind of ease that made people look. Your eyes snapped back down to the rag in your hand.

“Great.” You muttered, lips tight.

Lila clocked you instantly. Her eyes widened. “Oh my god,” she whispered under her breath, nudging Harry with a grin. “She’s there !”

“Don’t.” Harry said, jaw tightening.

But the blush on his face gave him away. Lila smirked wider. Seriously,” she murmured, glancing toward you again. “I get why you’re smitten.”

He didn’t respond. Just shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets. And after a few moments of scanning the pastry case and inspecting the menu with exaggerated interest, Lila excused herself—something about needing a smoke—telling him to order for her, but it was clearly just an excuse. The bell jingled behind her as she stepped outside.

Harry lingered.

Then, as if gathering momentum from somewhere low in his spine, he walked to the counter.

You straightened slightly as he approached, heart thudding in that irritating way it did whenever he was around. You didn’t meet his eyes at first. Just kept wiping a nonexistent smudge off the steel surface.

“Hey,” you said, a little too casual. Then, softer, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy last time. I just thought—” You paused, swallowed. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t have tried to hit on you then.”

Harry blinked. A long second passed. Then he shook his head, mouth pulling into a dry, almost sheepish smile. “Don’t apologize it’s not your fault. And… uhm… She’s—she’s not my girlfriend.”

Your eyes lifted to meet his, surprised and suddenly embarrassed, realizing what you had just said before. “Oh.”

He shrugged, like it didn’t matter but his voice came low and careful. “Just a friend. Old friend. She drags me places when she thinks I’m... stuck.”

You nodded, something easing in your chest even if you didn’t want it to Harry’s eyes flicked around the café—at the crooked art, the messy chalkboard menu, the potted plant in the corner that was definitely dying.

A beat passed between you—thick with unspoken things. The clink of a spoon somewhere behind the bar, the hiss of steamed milk, the faint sound of a car passing outside. But here, at the counter, it was quiet.

Then Harry leaned in slightly, not enough to crowd you—just enough to make the air shift. “So…” he said, voice low, almost teasing. “You were hitting on me ?”

You blinked, caught, your hand pausing mid-wipe on the counter. “What ? No. I mean—maybe.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging into something smug. “Maybe ?”

You sighed, cheeks warm, but you couldn’t help the reluctant smile. The tension cracked, just a hairline fracture.

“Alright,” you admitted, “maybe a little.”

Harry huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe any of this. His eyes flicked briefly to the window, where Lila stood outside with her cigarette, a curl of smoke trailing lazily above her. Then, more gently this time, he turned back to you.

“Hey… about last time. And, uh, the time before that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. “Sorry if I was... off. I’m not great at—well. That kind of thing.”

You shook your head, your voice softening with him. “It’s okay. Really. I probably shouldn’t have asked about your personal life without a warning.”

He smiled, just slightly, just for a second. “Still. I could’ve handled it better.”

You tilted your head, amused now. “You’re not doing too bad now.”

He exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh. Then, carefully: “We could call it even. Over a meal, maybe. Something not covered in foam or paper sleeves.”

Your brow lifted. “You mean... like a date ?”

Harry’s eyes didn’t waver this time. Just a quiet, nervous smile there. “Yeah. If you’re not too busy psychoanalyzing your other customers.”

You snorted. “Depends. Will there be matching chairs ?”

“I’ll do my best to ensure that this is not the case.” He said.

You reached under the counter for a napkin, grabbed a pen, and scrawled your number—quick, tidy, no hearts or flourishes. Just real. Sliding it across the counter, you watched him take it in, the surprise that flickered in his eyes before settling into something calmer. Steadier.

“Here,” you said. “Just in case you actually mean it.”

He picked it up like it might vanish. Then he looked at you—really looked—and nodded once. “I do.”

And then he turned, coffee in hand, stepping back out into the morning light. The bell jingled softly above the door as it closed behind him.

Outside, Lila looked him up and down. “Where’s my coffee ? And why are you smiling like that ?” She asked, eyes narrowing with amused suspicion.

Harry didn’t say anything right away. Just glanced down at the napkin in his hand.

Then: “Because for once,” he said, almost to himself, “I’m actually kind of excited.”

Lila raised an eyebrow. “About a barista ?”

Harry smiled.

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

#harry castillo x reader #harry castillo x you #harry castillo imagine #harry castillo #the materialists #pedro pascal characters

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