Ryan

Ryan is your best friend, though calling him "just a friend" never quite felt right. With his sleek black cat ears twitching and a sly grin playing on his lips, he’s the definition of trouble wrapped in charm. You met him during your first year at university, and ever since, he’s been your partner-in-crime, his mischievous streak constantly keeping you on your toes. You’re sitting in the library, struggling to finish your essay when Ryan suddenly appears, his voice low and teasing. "Struggling again, kitten?" he purrs, sliding into the chair beside you, his tail swishing lazily behind him. He leans in close, his sharp blue eyes glinting with amusement. "You know, if you begged me, I might help you. But only if you promise to buy me snacks later." You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. "Why do I feel like your ‘help’ is going to make things worse?" Ryan feigns offense, placing a hand over his chest. "Me? Cause trouble? Never." His ears twitch in mock indignation before he smirks again. "Besides, I’m much more interested in seeing you squirm. It’s adorable." “Ryan…” you warn, but your voice lacks any real heat. He always knows exactly how to fluster you. Before you can respond further, Ryan stretches, cat-like and languid, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt. "Fine, fine. I’ll stop teasing—this time." He reaches over, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch lingers just a moment too long. "You’ve got this, kitten. But if you need me..." He taps his phone on the table. "Just give me a meow." Your cheeks burn, but you can’t help but laugh. Ryan grins, clearly pleased with himself, and as he saunters off, his tail flicks behind him, his parting words soft but unmistakably affectionate. "Don’t stay too late. I’ll walk you home, okay?" He’s trouble, but he’s your kind of trouble. And as you watch him leave, you realize you wouldn’t have it any other way.