#Hannah Takes The Stairs

[cerescereso]

[thatgeekwiththeclipons]

Happy 40th Birthday to Academy Award Nominated filmmaker, writer and Golden Globe Nominated actress Greta Gerwig! ^__^

[bkenber]

Joe Swanberg on the Making of 'Drinking Buddies'

WRITER’S NOTE: This article was written back in 2013. Filmmaker Joe Swanberg has been a major figure in the Mumblecore movement, a subgenre of American independent film which is characterized by low budget production values and naturalistic dialogue. Among his films is “Hannah Takes the Stairs” which stars Greta Gerwig and was actually shot without a script. The way Swanberg works, he gives his…

[horseapplepie]

Greta Gerwig - Hannah Takes the Stairs

[sigma-alpha-writer-chad]

Grow Up, Would You? [Josh Washington]

“I don’t know if you’ve changed any since middle school but I really hope you’ve learned the difference between pranking somebody and just being a fucking bully.”

You can also find this story on Ao3!

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three

[CHAPTER TWO]

CW: Marijuanna use

“Chris, I’m not so sure about this,” I mumble, crossing my arms as I follow my cousin down the forest trail. “Things are just going to get super awkward.”

“Then just… don’t talk to him. Can’t be that hard, right?” Chris responds. I can tell that he knows as well as I do that Josh himself would do whatever it takes to get under my skin in any given circumstance.

“It’s his house,” I retort.

“It’s Hannah’s get together,” he replies. “She knows how you guys are, hopefully she’ll get him off your ass.” I say nothing. "Just..." Chris stops walking and turns around to look me in the eyes.

"What?"

"Just please try to get along?" He asks. His expression is serious and pleading. I sigh, heavily. Why wasn't he on my side? Why can't Josh try to get along with me?

"Sure, Chris," I relent. "I'll... do my best." Chris smiles at me appreciatively and continues down the trail. I hate this. I don't want to be walked over, I don't want to be the doormat or the verbal punching bag for whoever was in a bad mood that day - especially Josh's. But I didn't want to ruin everybody else's good mood, either. If no one else sees a problem, why am I so upset?

The autumn trees towered above us, providing shelter from the warm sun – although some warmth would be appreciated as the temperatures dropped lower by the day. I’d only been to the Washington house before for some rager of a graduation party, when the sky was dark. With the sun, however, the gorgeous forest could make me almost forget I was on a death march to the lair of my enemy.

Chris and I finally make it to the porch of the Washington home. He turns to me, as if to say “after you!” I hold my arms tighter to my body and shake my head. So, after a roll of the eyes, he knocks. There’s a muffled call from the other side to let us know someone was coming to let us in. Just my luck, Joshua opens the door.

“What are you, Chris, a vampire? Gotta be invited in, now?” Josh jokes, a wide grin on his face.

“I’m with Jordan,” Chris says, as if clarifying. Josh looks over Chris’s shoulder to see me. I swear I see his smile widen, and I can only think that can’t be good.

“You can leave her outside, Chris, no worries,” Josh snickers as he steps aside, holding open the door for Chris and I. As I walk past, I nod and offer a gentle thanks. “You’re welcome, pet.” Immediately, Chris sighs as if he knows whats coming. He knows I want to say something – but the guilt I feel in my chest for ruining every good mood keeps me from speaking. Instead, I just give him a hurt, frustrated look.

Josh seems surprised. Next to the shock, though, is a flash of an emotion I can’t quite catch. It’s Josh, however. So I didn’t much care. I walked into the living room, where everyone else was waiting. Hannah stands up and hurries to greet me, walking straight past Chris to pull me into a hug.

“Ahh, thank you for coming! I’m glad you could make it!”

“Oh, uhm, thank you!” I pause. “For inviting me, I mean. You have a lovely home.” I give an awkward bow, staring wide-eyed at the floor. You’re so fucking weird, what are you doing?! I scold myself. I know they’re thinking it, too, but I once again push the negative thoughts away.

“We’re gonna head down to the basement,” Hannah says, smiling as if I hadn’t just made the most awkward air possible. “Do you smoke?” I’m taken by surprise. Chris, Josh, and everyone else walks past Hannah and I and towards the stairs.

“Smoke?” I repeat. “What, like, weed?” Hannah giggles.

“Yes, like, weed,” she says.

“Yeah, sometimes. Not often, though.”

“Great! We have weed.”

“Sounds… good.” A part of me is relieved. Maybe with something in my system I’ll be able to relax for once. Especially around Josh. I feel a burning anger in my chest at just the thought of him. Hannah takes my hand firmly and begins to lead me to the stairs the others had gone down. I make a mental note that the twins both really seem to like holding hands. Not that I minded. It just wasn’t that common for someone to take your hand in theirs when showing you around their house.

We get to the basement, and it’s noticeably colder. And massive. My eyebrows raise as I look around the room. There’s a huge TV mounted on the wall, a large circular wooden table in the middle of the room on a round, purple rug. Around the table for seating were two L couches, and on the couches were Hannah’s friends. Not everyone, though.

Matt, Sam, and Jess were missing, leaving just Ashley, Mike, and his girlfriend Emily, who was casually sitting on his lap. Next to Mike and Emily, Chris unsurprisingly had sat next to Ashley, leaving the other couch to Hannah, Beth, Joshua and I. For a moment I wondered if this could be some kind of set up. Hannah quickly left my side to sit next to Beth on the furthest end of the couch. On the other side was, of course, Joshua, rolling a joint. And, of course, the only open seat was next to him.

And he knew it.

I didn’t want to be rude or, again, make things awkward. And so, I sat next to Joshua Washington. It’s here, watching him focused on something that I suddenly realize how tired he looks. The underside of his eyes were dark, as if he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in days.

“Like what you see?” Josh smiles, eyebrows raised. I frown in response.

“No.” I immediately regret this as the vibe is instantly brought down by my rude answer. “I mean, like, not NO, but I just mean I didn’t -”

“Calm down, girl, I’m just… just JOSHING ya,” he laughs. I roll my eyes but I can’t help the small smile that hints at my face. Josh’s head snapped to his sisters, mouth wide open in a smile as if he can’t believe I was capable of anything but a straight face or a frown. “I made her smile!” He whisper yells. I hate it, but it makes it harder to keep the smile down. Somehow I manage not to fully grin.

“Alright, you first, Mike,” Josh says, handing the dark haired boy the joint. Mike takes a long drag and shotguns it to Emily. My lip twitches, threatening to make an obvious sneer at the strong PDA.

“Ohh, spicey,” I hear Josh laugh. “Chris and Ashley next.” Ashley and Chris immediately chime in in a chorus of no’s. Chris takes the joint and takes a hit. I notice his hands are shaking. The idea of his lips so close to Ashley’s is more than it appears he can take. I can hear Josh continue to laugh to himself as Ashley is handed the joint.

“So, what’s the plan for the winter this year?” Beth says, her face shining with excitement. “Are you guys coming?” Mike and Emily look away from each other, their teasing and giggling cut short by Beth’s question. Despite the unhappy look on Emily’s face, she answers. Ashley passes the joint to Hannah.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, hon,” she smiles, but it looks forced and sarcastic, even. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion as to why she’s here – and why does she keep getting invited? Mike nods next to her, a smile on his handsome face. He seems much more laid back and agreeable than his girlfriend, who I notice is looking me up and down. “Do you have a problem or something, weird girl?” I’m taken aback at the sudden confrontation and I sit up straight. My heart begins to pound. Hannah passes the joint to Beth.

“No, I don’t. I was just -”

“Staring at me like some sort of creep? Yeah, I saw. I saw you look at my man, too. What’s up? You want him?”

“What? No, I -”

“You can’t have him. So eyes off, bitch.” I clench my jaw, hard. I swear I almost cracked a tooth.

"Emily -" Mike starts, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration and embarrassment. He shoots me a worried, apologetic look.

"No, it's fine," I say, staring Emily directly in the eyes. As I expected, she takes it as a challenge. "I looked at you, yeah. When you're sucking face like that it's hard to ignore." Beth passes the joint to Josh.

"Well, keep looking." Emily hisses, throwing her arms around Mike and holding his neck tightly. I wonder if he can breathe. I clear my throat and look up at Chris. His eyes are already a bit droopier, but through his mild high he still looks back at me with a sort of pity and embarrassment that I just can't stand.

Josh hands me the joint.

"Go on, take a big drag, babydoll," Josh grins at me. I frown at him. He did nothing wrong, but I still can't help but feel like he's making fun of me in some way. Still, I ignore the nickname. I know he's just trying to get under my skin, yet I can feel the tips of my ears heat up in embarrassment. I side-eye Josh as I put the blunt in between my lips. He's staring at me as if he's studying me, his ever present smile missing from his face, eyes half closed. He couldn't be high that quickly, could he?

As he suggested, I take a long drag, adding a bit of 'coolness' by French inhaling.

"Oh, so cool, I've never seen that before," Emily says sarcastically. I ignore her as I pass the weed back to Mike. Mike doesn't look at me as he takes it, instead glaring at Emily. I can tell he's embarrassed by her cruelty.

I don't hate Mike. He's never been my favorite person in the world, but he's never done anything to me or that I've seen that could make me dislike him other than his habit of... Well, women. However, I could tell that despite her attitude Mike saw something beneath that and really did care about Emily. He was handsome, I could never deny that. Thick, dark hair and brown eyes, a chiseled jaw and a decent body to match. The more time I spent near him the more I understood that he really wasn't a stereotypical 'high school hot guy.' Mr. Class President. He locks eyes with me and gives me an awkward smile. I can sense an apology in his expression. I want to return a look, but I quicky shift my gaze before Emily catches on to the telepathic conversation.

As we continue the rotation, the conversation of their winter plans continues on. I listen, but I don't contribute due to my lack of invitation. I look around me, and everyone looks happy and content. I can feel my own high start to creep up under my eyes, and I can't help but smile to myself. It was pleasant. Even though these were people I didn't yet consider friends outside of Chris, Beth, and Hannah, I didn't feel completely out of place in this moment. I felt content for the first time in a long time.

An hour passes.

"Hey, I'm sorry, where's your bathroom?" I ask. I start to think I might be greening out and I needed a moment to myself. Josh turns to me, a dopey grin on his face.

"The bathroom?" He asks. I smile back at him.

"Yeah, the bathroom."

"What for?" Josh scoots closer as if to hear me better.

"I'm getting anxious, I think," I admit. This surprises me. Why would I tell Josh I'm anxious? So he can make it worse? Instead of poking fun at me and telling everyone to look, his smile fades slightly and his eyebrows twitch in what looks like concern.

"Anxious? Are you ok?"

"I'm greening," I say, widening my eyes for a moment to exaggerate. Josh takes my hand.

"I will escort you to the bathroom," he says, standing up. "It's kind of a maze, this house." He's smiling at me. Even under the influence I can't help but search for any sign of malicious intent. My anxiety spikes further. What does he have planned?

"Can't you just tell me how to get there?" I ask, though I stand with him anyway.

"Yeah, but you'll get lost."

"Joshua Washington," Hannah starts, her tone that of a parent warning their child. "You better not upset her or I swear..."

"Yeah!" Beth chimes in.

"Awe, guys, give me a chance! Give me a chance..." He trails off, beginning to lead me to the stairs, still holding my hand. When we're further away, I inform him that my hand was still in his. "Oh, can I just keep holding it? Your hands are just so soft." I say nothing. How do I respond to that? Is this some sort of joke?

"Your hands are calloused," is all I can muster.

"Oh, man, is that bad?"

"No."

We stand in front of a door. I assume it's the bathroom but I can't think clearly. Josh just stares at me. I ask him if this is the bathroom. He says nothing. He's expressionless.

"You seem anxious around me, do I make you anxious?"

"Is this the bathroom?" I ask. Silence. My heart is pounding. What is he trying to do? Embarrass me? He's staring into my very being. Of course he makes me anxious.

"...yeah." He steps aside, opening the door for me. He suddenly seems sober. I feel a pang of guilt as I walk past him and into the bathroom. Why? I stare at myself in the mirror, studying my own features. I'm not wearing any makeup, but I kind of wish I did. Maybe some mascara, or something. My cheeks and the tips of my ears were a light red, my flustered state obvious. As I observe myself, my mind wanders to the people out there, in the basement. Chris seems to really enjoy their company. Outside of Emily and Josh, I do too. Yet I still can't help but question it all.

Did they see me as a charity case? They never invited me to anything before, no texts after I'd moved. The friendship or my classmates was utterly and completely out of nowhere. Why did Beth and Hannah invite me? My pupils are dilated. I look tired. My eyes water. Will I be invited again? I think I hope so.

A knock on the door makes me jump.

"Are you ok in there?"

"It's been like, 10 seconds."

"It's been like, 10 minutes, J." Had it really been that long? There was no way. J? I find myself wondering where such a familiar sounding nickname came from.

"Are you timing me?" I ask.

"No," he answers. "I'm not." A beat of silence.

"Have you been waiting for me this whole time?" Josh doesn't answer. After a moment of silence, he knocks again.

"Are you ok in there?" I roll my eyes and sigh in frustration, opening the door and stepping out. Well, trying to. Josh is standing directly in the opening and I bump into him, hard, but he doesn't stumble. He grabs both my shoulders as if to hold me still, keep me from falling over. I only notice now he's taller than me by a few inches, my eyes in line with his mouth.

"Yeah," I say, frozen in place. He's touching me

Why is he touching me? Why? His grip loosens, noticing how tense I am.

"You were just in there for a while, and," he paused, taking a step back. "I dunno, sometimes people cry at get togethers or whatever." I chew on my lower lip. I had almost cried. "It would've been a major bummer, or whatever."

"Do I look like I was crying?"

"Yes." I'm taken aback, lifting my hands to my face. Sure enough, my cheeks are wet with what can only be tears.

"How would - how would you know?" Now it's his turn to be embarrassed. He takes another step back from me as he looks at the wall to my left, shifting his weight. Is he nervous?

"...I've seen you cry a lot."

"Oh. Right." The silence is deafening. "Let's go back downstairs." I wipe my face dry with the sleeves of my sweater. "Thanks for showing me where the bathroom is." I try to change the subject. He says nothing, only offering me a nod this time. He doesn't take my hand.

"Next time you're on your own." He huffs, turning on his heel and walking quickly away from me and back towards the basement. I'm taken aback by the sudden shift in attitude but I bite my tongue. I promised Chris I would do my best to get along with Josh, and I intended to keep it. But damn was it difficult.

Back into the basement, Josh is already sat and smoking. I furrow my eyebrows. Did he have to be high to tolerate my presence? I shake the thought from my head and take my place next to him. He shifts, scooting slightly further away from me. My chest fills with a deep, rumbling anger, and I grip the sides of the couch tightly. I didn't do anything to him.

"You'll be coming, right, Jordan?" Beth asks. I snap out of my thoughts and lean forward to see her over her brother, who stiffens.

"What? Coming to what?" I ask. Beth smiles and rolls her eyes playfully. I can hear Emily snicker and Mike sigh at her in mild frustration, saying her name as if in a warning - again. Chris is watching Josh, his eyes seemingly scanning for something.

"Our parents own a lodge up on a mountain," Hannah answers for Beth. "In the winter we all spend a few days up there. No parents, if you were wondering."

"And you're invited," Beth butts in. "It would be rude of us to talk about it so much in front of you if we didn't plan on taking you along." I'm passed the blunt, but I don't hit it this time. I'm high enough.

"Uh, well, I don't know," I start, chewing at my bottom lip. I glance at Josh, who is staring at me intensely. The sudden eye contact kind of freaks me out. I look at Chris, who shrugs at me, his expression wide eyed and clueless. Emily rolls her eyes, and the twins look at me expectantly. "I... I don't think I would be any fun." My heart pounds. I don't want to spend time trapped on a mountain for days near Joshua Washington. I would expect to wake up one morning with my mattress somehow moved outside as a "joke."

"What? Why?"

"I'm just not a partier." I gulp. I look again at Chris. I can't tell what he's thinking. Does he want me to come? Does he think I'll ruin it for him? For everyone?

I think I would.

"Jordan, please. Just think about it?" Hannah pleads, standing up from her place on the couch to crouch down in front of me like a parent talking to their child. I can feel Josh's gaze boring into me, telling me I'd better not dare to say yes. My eyes snap to his, my head unmoving.

If you come to the lodge I will make your life hell.

The anger in me bubbles and burns to the point of pain, my jaw clenching. I can't help but think about how many times I'd missed out on something because Joshua Washington would be there or even nearby. How many tears have I shed over this asshole? And now what? Now he thought he could control me?

"Jordan?" Hannah repeats. I know she can see the staring battle between Josh and I.

"You know what, Hannah?" I start. Something in Josh's expression changes. The warning is still there, but now there's something else. Shock? Admiration?

"Yeah?" Hannah starts to smile, though there's a hint of nervousness to it. I wonder if regret ever creeped into her head.

Fear?

I don't know. But I know I'm done with agreeing to be put down and pushed around for the comfort of others. If Joshua Washington wanted a battle he sure as hell would get one, though this time there was no winning for him. I'm not laying down anymore. I turn my head so I'm fully facing him. His expression shifts further towards surprise and realization that something was different.

"I'll be there."

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Whoo!! Sorry for the wait! Thank you for your patience.

Taglist: @sc4rrc @mattymxmo @cellyx33 @jenepleurepasbaby

[chaotic-toasters]

Up the Stairs?

This actually happened to me one time LMAO

England Lionesses x Teen!Reader

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"I'm not climbing those creepy old stairs!" Ella protested. "Y/N and Hannah should go. They're the youngest and the most fit, so if there's a serial killer hiding in the stairwell, they can outrun them. I'm taking the lift, I don't care."

You rolled your eyes. "C'mon, Hannah. Let's go."

"Tooney's such a baby," the Keeper laughed, matching your stride as you approached the hotel's staircase. "I swear, she believes the dumbest things."

You snickered. "Right?"

Hannah started climbing the steps, but you began bounding up them three at a time instead of your usual two. The girls always said you were childish, and this was one of the reasons why.

Because you weren't used to the extra height, you tripped, moving your hand out in front of you to break your fall. However, the sudden impact to your hand sent a sharp pain shooting down from your wrist to your forearm.

"Oh my days," Hannah grimaced, forcing you to sit as she gingerly picked up your hand. "How much does it hurt?"

You squinted at her. "On a scale of what?"

"One to 'take me to A&E, I'm dying'."

"Meh."

She scoffed. "Yeah, right. That crack echoed 'round the stairwell."

"That's just because the acoustics in here are really good," you dismissed her concern. "Seriously, Hannah. I'm fine."

"I'm still telling everybody," she warned. "We need to keep an eye on it. You might not have any symptoms now, but that can change in a few days."

You groaned. "Fiiine."

-----------------

"Are you hurt?! What happened?" Rachel yelled in your ear, startling you. "How did you break your hand?! Are you alright?"

You scooted away from her and closer to Alessia. "I'm fine, Rach. And I didn't break it, it's just a scratch."

"Scratch? More like a loud arse crack," Hannah shook her head. "I think we should take you to the medics. Even if you aren't feeling too much pain and it's not broken, you might have sprained it or something."

You pouted, turning to your more empathetic teammates pleadingly. "Lessi, Niamhy, tell them I don't need to! I'm literally fine."

"Sorry, kiddo," Alessia smiled apologetically. "I'm with Rach and Hannah on this one. If it goes untreated, it'll heal wrong and you'll have chronic pain."

Niamh nodded her agreement, a sheepish look on her face.

You turned to your last hope. "Hempo?"

The forward picked up your hand, turning it over and observing it. "Nah, you're fine."

"She doesn't even have full range of motion!" Hannah exclaimed. "Her wrist can't move in a circle smoothly."

"I'll go to the medics if it gets worse," you grumbled. "Now let me be."

An awkward grin spread across Rachel's face, causing you to frown. "What?"

She looked down, unable to remain neutral. "I- uh... I texted Leah."

As if on cue, the door flew open, revealing a very worried Captain England. "Y/N! What the hell did you do?"

You gasped, glaring at your traitorous teammate. "You snitch!"

"Get up, we're going to the medics," Leah pulled you up by your non-injured hand. "Come on, let's go."

You tried to remain still. "Leah-"

"We're going," Leah grunted, throwing you over her shoulder despite your protests. "You're not getting out of this."

You stared glumly at the floor, ignoring the giggles of your teammates.

"I need a medic for this one," Leah declared as she entered the room, setting you down on a chair. "She fell down the stairs."

Sarina's head whipped towards you. "What?!"

You looked at Leah indignantly. "No, I fell up the stairs. Get it right."

Leah threw up her hands in exasperation. "How do you fall up the stairs?"

"I was going up and I tripped," you answered, frowning when one of England's medics held up your arm and hand. "I fell onto the step above me."

Sarina sighed, rubbing her temples. "Did she fracture it or anything?"

The medic shook his head. "Likely a mild sprain, especially if she can still somewhat move it. We'll give her a wrist brace. I'm sure you know how that works, Y/N."

You gave Leah the stink-eye. "This is all your fault."

"No, this is all your fault," she corrected, patting you on the shoulder. "You're the one who likes to go up multiple steps at a time."

"Whatever," you stuck out your tongue, taking the brace from the medic. "We all know that this is really all Tooney's fault."

Leah paused. "Yeah, that's true."

[sheeple]

Heirs of Hogwarts | part 1

Genre(s): Nuisance to Lovers / Fake dating / Fluff / No Voldy au Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader Summary: After finding out your (now ex)boyfriend cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about, you decide to get into a fake relationship with the kid of another founder of Hogwarts. What could go wrong? Warning(s): Cheating boyfriend (Matt could never) / Matt is a cheeky shit A/n: Kinda tried something new with the notes. Lmk if you like/dislike it [Masterlist] [HoH masterlist]

There is a certain expectation that comes with having a well-known surname. People expect you to act in a way that befits a Malfoy, Abbott, Prewett or any other name on the Sacred Twenty-Eight list. And while there is no person left who carries the Gaunt name anymore, a Riddle is as good as a Gaunt in the eyes of the Pure-Blood community.

The one thing nobody realises that also carries on for the ones who are literally Wizarding World royalty. Like you. A Hufflepuff. No, not like the house. But your surname is literally Hufflepuff. Helga Hufflepuff is your great-grandmother many times over. And it sucks.

You're expected to be the embodiment of Hufflepuff House. Be kind, be ready to help everyone who asks, be patient, be humble, be just, be good at Herbology. You hate Herbology! The dirt under your nails. The smell of the classroom. The way magical plants are not really safe for children to be around. I mean... hello? Mandrakes? Yeah, didn't think so.

And it's not like you're not all those things. You are kind, you do help others when asked, you are humble, maybe not as patient as you should be, and just. Just not all the time. 

Like right now. Right now you are not patient with Hannah and Susan for hogging the bathroom. You've slept like shit and you are hungry. So, you've decided to go to breakfast without them and have them join you later. You can always brush your teeth after breakfast

As you walk across the common room, you greet your Great-Grandmother in passing. "Morning, Meemaw."

"Good morning my little Badger!", she calls after you cheerfully, earning a couple snickers from your housemates. You choose to ignore them and make your trek up the stairs in silence, giving every student who greets you a polite smile.

You don't even know half the people who call out your name when you pass them. They don't even use your name. Just a variation of Hufflepuff. Huff. Puff. Badger. Queen Badger — you really hate that one. You nearly punched a guy for calling you the Top Notch Yellow One. But to be fair, you were in an abysmal mood that day.

By now you've got a pro at tuning out the stares when you walk into the Great Hall. It's mostly the first years who stare at you with wide eyes and mouths agape once they learn who you are. 

You plop down at a free spot and start to plate up some food and pour in juice. Just as you're mid-sip, you feel someone loom over you.

"Good morning", gets whispered in your ear before your boyfriend takes a seat next to you.

You hum and slump against his shoulder. Malcolm pats your head as he knows that is the best attempt at getting a response from you before you've got a semblance of food in your stomach. 

Malcolm Preece and you have been dating for almost a year now. He's a year above you and on the Quidditch team. Your friends don't really like him — and if you are completely honest with yourself neither do you. He's too possessive. He always needs to know where you are and with whom. It also drives you absolutely up the walls.

It has always been expected of you to be in a respectable relationship by the sixth year. Even non-Slytherin families have that kind of pressure. Surprising hmm? You needed your parents off your back and Malcolm was there. Do you feel bad for the guy? Yeah, of course. And it's not like you don't care about him but it's more an obligation; the kissing and the touches and the handholding.

"Guess what", you grumble, whipping your mouth. Malcolm hums as he butters his bread. "My first class of the day is Herbology."

Malcolm laughs and shakes his head. He places a kiss on your hair before saying, "I know. You've been whining about it all last evening. Is there absolutely nothing you can find to enjoy about the subject. Or why don't you ask Sprout if you can drop the course?"

You give him a look. "You know I can't do that. Everybody in my family graduated top of their class and I am not about to be the first one of my siblings to royally piss off my parents. Amelia came close when she almost dropped Meemaw's cup." 

Your boyfriend laughs but doesn't say anything else. Because your hate for Herbology doesn't come from your general dislike of dirt. It comes from the first thing you see when you walk into the glasshouse.

You share many classes with other houses. You also share many classes with Slytherin. That also means you share many classes with Mattheo Riddle. He's a pompous prat who likes to make your days worse for absolutely no reason. 

Normally you sit on the other side of the classroom and ignore him and his friends. He's not above pulling your hair or bumping against you in the hallways. It's petty. And you have no idea why or how it started in the first place.

Herbology is the only class you actually have to interact with Mattheo. For the others you usually sit with Hannah or Susan. But Professor Sprout wanted to hustle up the usual groups and pair random students with each other. That's how you got stuck with Mattheo.

"What is it, princess? Scared a little mud will ruin your manicure?", he says with a shit-eating grin as you put on gardening gloves. You shoot him a glare but continue to tend to you Fluxweed.

"Looks like your Fluxweed can use a little manicure." You give a pointed look at the sad sprig that used to be a plant and continue to do your own thing. "That reminds me, we have to finish our report on Fluxweed. Do you have any time this week? I mean, between your busy schedule of pestering first years and tripping up Neville Longbottom."

You hear a snicker behind you. Hannah holds up her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter and you wink at her while Mattheo sends her a scalding glare.

"Sure", sneers Mattheo, "if you have any room between tea parties and snogging that sad sack you call a boyfriend."

"I don't have-", you want to interject but you know it has no use. Only if Professor Sprout wouldn't be hoovering around you all the time you would have 'accidentally' stomped on his feet.

You turn your back towards him and walk towards the supply closet, searching for a pair of shears. But Professor Sprout keeps them on the top shelf. As you want to grab your wand, a hand suddenly tugs at the ribbon in your hair. 

With a gasp, you whip around and you are met with Mattheo's chest, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He gives you a bored look before turning around and walking back towards his table. 

You shake your head and turn around. When you want to Accio the shears to you, you see that they've been placed on the shelve at eye height. Huh.

Once your classes before lunch are finally over you walk out of the classroom with a smile as you spot Malcolm waiting for you. But your smile soon falters at the person standing next to him. Gladys Prescott stands way too close to your boyfriend. She's twirling a lock of hair with her finger as she laughs obnoxiously at one of Malcolm's jokes. They're great, but not that funny.

When you first started dating Malcolm you voiced your questions about his and Gladys' relationship. You were under the impression that they were dating because of how close they were. You and your friends were surprised when he asked you out on a Hogsmeade date.

The worst thing is that Malcolm swears nothing's going on between the two. That they're just friends. But the way he looks at her and treats her makes you glower. It's not that you're jealous. Just... you don't want to get berated by your parents for choosing the wrong partner.

"Ready?", you plaster on a wide smile, clutching your books in your hands.

Gladys and Malcolm look like they are snapped out of their little world before Malcolm registers that it's you and he returns your smile. "You don't mind if Gly joins us, do you?"

You turn to the girl, who gives you a fake ass big smile. "Of course not. The more the merrier! Now, tell me about your morning."

The two of them speak more to each other and don't bother to include you. Resting your chin on your hand, you look around the Great Hall. Susan and Hannah are doing their Prefect duties so they are unable to join you for lunch. 

Tuning out Malcolm and Gladys, your eyes flicker to the other students who are enjoying their lunch. You suddenly make eye contact with Mattheo over at the Slytherin table. He raises his brows at you. You mimic his expression before continuing with your surveying. But when you look back he's still looking at you.

His expressionless eyes flicker towards your boyfriend and Gladys before back to you. He raises a single eyebrow at you, silently asking if you tolerate it. 

You send him a pinched look back before zoning back into the conversation. Malcolm and Gladys are laughing loudly and Gladys has a hand clasped over his. The hold on your fork tightens and you swear you feel it bend in your hold.

You stand up abruptly. Gladys and Malcolm pull their hands away like they're burned and look up at you. "I'm... I have to ask Professor Slughorn something before class begins." You think up the excuse on the spot.

"Oh... Do you want me to walk you..?" Malcolm looks at you with big eyes.

But you shake your head. "No. I wouldn't want to pull you away from your fascinating conversation." You give Gladys a sickly sweet smile, which she doesn't return.

Instead of making a left once you leave the Great Hall, you keep on walking until you're at the edge of the forest. You survey if nobody's following you. With a deep breath, you crouch down and feel your bones and skin snap and pull.

One thing that nobody seems to know about Helga Hufflepuff is that she is a born Animagus. And she has given the ability to transform into a badger at will to all her descendants. The Ministry knows about it and every Hufflepuff descendant gets tested at age ten. By then most children are already used to the transformation.

And you love it. It helps you clear your head and release frustration. As of late you've been doing it a lot more. 

Your little legs move easily over the forest floor towards your little burrow. You know, the Dark Forest isn't that scary when you're one of the animals. Mostly because you know which sides of the forest you need to dodge. Badgers are vicious but spiders are a paint in the butt. 

The afternoon is spent frolicking in flower fields, munching on berries and nuts, and reinforcing the little stick bridges you made for your fellow badgers and woodland creatures over the many rivers that pass through the forest.

By the time you return to the castle, it's already dark and you're tired. You want to curl up in your bed and hear about Susan and Hannah's day. 

But something stops you in your way when you pass a dorm. A whiney, feminine voice comes from Malcolm's room. Gladys. "For how long do you have to pretend to like that stuck-up brat?"

You inch closer to the door and peer between the crack. Malcolm and Gladys are on his bed, her between his legs and they're pecking each other's lips, naked. Your chest tightens at this display of intimacy Malcolm never wanted to show you. Too 'old-school'. Or so he claimed.

Malcolm hums. "I know, Pookie. But next year I'm graduated and I want a good job. If I manage to sit it out any longer Mr Hufflepuff might recommend me for a good position at the Ministry."

Anger bubbles from within you and you turn around, marching out of the common room. You ignore the calls of your name and keep on walking until you're outside and on one of the old defence walls of the school. Your thinking spot.

It doesn't hurt that he is cheating on you. You weren't blind. What hurts is that he is using you to get further in life. He's just like the others. 

Your shoulders tense up at the sound of someone making them up the stairs and the smell of cigarettes. Great. You really need him to bother you right now.

Mattheo halts once he spots you sitting between the battlements, your feet dangling off the edge. He blows out a puff of smoke before sitting next to you. Out of politeness, he offers his cigarette. He doesn't expect you to accept it and take a drag.

"I didn't know you smoked", muses Mattheo as he watches you blow out the smoke mesmerised.

You glance at him while giving the cigarette back. "I don't."

The two of you stay silent, neither of you wanting or knowing what to talk about. Until it's Mattheo who breaks the silence. "What has the pretty Princess so stressed?"

"I'm not stressed." You opt to ignore the princess part for your sanity.

"Sure. And I can't talk to snakes. You're destroying your nailbeds", he points out and you look down. Your fingers are picking at the skin around your thumbnails. You've managed to make it bleed.

Sticking your thumb in your mouth to suck the blood away, you stare defiantly at the darkness that envelops the forbidden forest. "Malcolm's been cheating on me", you say after some contemplating, eyeing the Slytherin boy next to you.

Mattheo raises one brow unimpressed. "What?", he asks when you give him a look, "do I have to act surprised?" He dramatically fake gasps. "Oh, my Merlin! He did not!" He impersonates an American Valley Girl while covering his mouth with his hand.

You roll your eyes annoyed. Of course, you shouldn't have brought up the subject to Mattheo fucking Riddle. "Forget it if you're going to be a dick about it." You push yourself up and dust off your hands.

But Mattheo's hand around your wrist stops you and he leans back, his eyes somewhat apologetic. "No, don't go. I'm sorry. How did you find out?"

This time you raise your eyebrows. Mattheo Riddle never apologises. What in the... 

Against your better judgment, you sit back, your hands folded in your lap. "I just came back and I heard him talk about it with Gladys. How he wants my dad to give him a good job when he graduates." You take a deep breath, the nicotine tickling your nose. "I had a hunch he was fooling around with her. But using me, that hurts, you know?" 

He nods as you glance at him. Mattheo knows. He, just like you, is used to people only talking to or befriending him because they want something from him. They think getting in his good graces gets them somewhere. Absolutely not.

"You knew?"

You hum. Your fingers start to attack your nailbeds again as you think back to the many times you've had to bite your tongue. To keep face in front of the others at school. "I needed someone to keep my parents off my back. My parents expect all of us to have a steady partner by our sixth year. My siblings did it, but only the oldest actually had a girlfriend. The twins just told me to find someone to play the part."

A groan escapes you as you bury your hands in your face. "And now someone will rat to their parents about my break-up, who in turn tell my parents and then I'll get a stern letter about my future. This whole break-up is more an irritation than a heartache."

The Slytherin boy next to you is deadly silent. Why would you be so stupid to air your grievance to him? It's not like he cares. Standing up for real this time, you give him a curt nod. "Thank you for listening, Riddle. Best not to mention our meet-up with anyone, alright? Goodnight." 

You make your way back towards your dorm and crash into your bed. Pressing your face against your pillow, you try your hardest to forget today.

But as suspected, sleep doesn't come easily. Or not at all. And you feel like a zombie walking towards breakfast, your friends giving you worried looks after you explained what happened last night — minus the Mattheo part. 

"I swear if one more busybody comes up to you to say they're sorry", grumbles Hannah as she gives the students around you glares. She balls up her fists and punches the air in front of her. You and Susan chuckle while students around you look at her weirdly.

It's the worst when you enter the Great Hall. The general breakfast noise quiets as your peers start to whisper when you pass them. You keep your eyes focused on a far-off point until you are at your usual breakfast spot.

The three of you eat mostly in silence. Hannah and Susan try to engage you in a conversation but you just play with your food. 

"Can we talk?"

You tense up and drop your fork. Slowly, you turn around and look up at Malcolm. He has a guilty look on his face and it angers you. "I don't know. Can we?" You cock your head condescendingly to the side.

You turn back around and start abusing the piece of toast on your plate. Malcolm lays a hand on your shoulder but it gets promptly ripped off by Hannah. "I strongly advise you to back off."

Malcolm scoffs, looking down at the girl who stands protective in front of you. "Or what? Can't I speak with my girlfriend?"

You slowly rise and turn around to face the prick. "Don't speak to her like that, you insufferable twat. You best believe my dad will make sure you won't get a job anywhere in the Ministry, not even as a wand polisher", you bare your teeth, your chest raising rapidly. The Great Hall has fallen silent, watching the exchange.

"You little bitch." Malcolm's jaw ticks and he balls a fist. But the voice of a teacher stops him.

"Mister Preece, I would strongly advise you to step away from Miss Hufflepuff if you don't want to lose your position on the Quidditch team." Professor McGonagall comes striding from the teacher's table, where they could have seen the interaction between the two of you clear as day.

Malcolm's eyes flicker from you towards the professor and back. "This isn't over", he grumbles before leaving the Great Hall.

"Thank you, Professor." You give the woman a small smile as you collect your schoolbag. She waves you away and you grab both Hannah and Susan's hands, dragging them out of the Great Hall, the stares the whole ordeal created starting to creep you out.

Hannah grumbles all the way towards Charms how's she going to 'beat his face in the next time he dares to look at you'. Susan and you share a look but you're glad you've got Hannah to look out for you.

It's again Hannah who sends glares around as the three of you take place at your usual spot — upper bench all the way at the end. That way the three of you can whisper among each other without bothering anyone.

The class goes as usual before a paper bird lands before you. You look surprised to the other side of the classroom. Mattheo Riddle is already looking at you and miming for you to unfold the bird.

You raise your brows at his note. He has such a chicken-scratch handwriting.

"What is it?", asks Susan in a whisper, leaning closer to you to read the note. A soft gasp escapes her and she looks over at Mattheo. Who's eyes are still trained on you, by the way. "Since when are you and Mattheo Riddle sending notes to each other?!"

"Since never!", you hiss, "what time are we done today?"

Hannah looks up from her book. "Three. Why?" She snatches the note out of Susan's hands and her eyes trail over the words. "He needs to fix his handwriting, my brother in Christ. Is 'Fluxweed report' some kind of secret code?"

You snort and swat her chest, earning a smug smile from the girl.

"I think it's rather romantic", says Susan, the hopeless romantic that she is.

A grimace forms on your face. "What is so romantic about finishing a Herbology essay?"

Susan sighs exorbitantly as she rolls her eyes. "You're officially single now! Free to go and explore and find someone who you really like! Mattheo obviously has seen his chance and took it!"

You and Hannah look at Susan as if she just swallowed a flobberworm. She gives the two of you an exasperated look. "What?! Isn't it like so romantic if the two descendants of Hogwarts founders end up dating? I bet ten galleons that he asks you out on a Hogsmeade date."

You huff out a breath. "Fine. But if he ends up humiliating me I'm going to enjoy those ten galleons with all my heart. Now, what do I write him back?"

"Oh! You should ask to meet at those tables at the back of the library where nobody really comes. That way you two could really cosy up."

You turn towards Hannah, feeling betrayed. "I thought you were with me on this?"

Hannah shrugs. "I'm always down for some drama. Besides, he has been staring at you and I always wondered when he would make his move."

"Since when has Mattheo Riddle been staring at me?", you ask genuinely shocked.

"Since like forever! He always manages to look away just in time. You were also too busy with him who we won't name. Bad joojoo."

You ignore Hannah's observation and pen an answer back.

You wait to send it towards him when Flitwick isn't looking before chucking the balled-up paper towards the other side of the classroom and hitting him in the face.

You clasp a hand over your mouth while you and your friends stifle your laugh. Mattheo unfolds the paper, his eyes following every letter you wrote before he shows a thumbs up. 

"Dibs on being you guys' child's Godparent", whispers Susan with a grin and you elbow her in the ribs.

You try to bring your focus back to Flitwick, but you keep on glancing back at the curly-haired boy across the room. Has he some sort of plan to ask you so publicly to study? What is his motive? It can't only be studying, right?

Throughout the day you've grown quite nervous about meeting Mattheo. If it wasn't for your stupid friends and their stupid words you wouldn't have thought about this afternoon like any different from any other Herbology class. 

For Merlin's sake! You just broke up with your boyfriend and your friends are already pushing you onto the next. You wanted to take it slow for a while and enjoy the rest of your year without the worry of having to please a guy!

You fix your hair and uniform behind a bookcase as you see Mattheo already sitting at the table. With a curt breath and nod to yourself, you walk up to the table and take place in front of him. "Hi. Sorry if you've been waiting for long." You send him a small smile as you grab your book and notebook out of your bag. "It takes more time than I imagined to get from Divignation to here."

Mattheo gives you a half-smile and waves away your apologies. "Don't worry. I just got here too actually. So... what needed to be in that essay again?"

The two of you work together surprisingly well. If Mattheo isn't throwing his snide remarks around anyway. You also don't feel the need to be as snappy as you usually are with him. It's actually... nice? For once. 

As you're writing the last part of the essay, you feel his eyes on you. You look back up and raise your brows, silently asking what his deal is.

"I was thinking", he begins.

You let out a chuckle. "That's dangerous."

Ignoring your quip, he continues, "you need your parents off your back, right? And I imagine that you would like to smite Preece after that embarrassing stunt he pulled this morning."

You lean back with your eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't quite call it that. But continue."

Mattheo licks his bottom lips as he instead leans close to you, his voice softening. "Go out with me. Just a couple of dates so that you're seen with me. You know it will drive him nuts seeing you move on so quick."

You contemplate it for a moment or two. He is right. Malcolm always was a bit too paranoid for your taste when you talked with a boy. 

He hums. "So you agree?"

"What do you out of it? This all is a bit too suspicious."

He laughs and he runs his tongue over his teeth. "You don't believe me that I'm just content with having a pretty girl by my side?" When you shake your head he grins. "Smart girl. Maybe by 'dating' you, it will pull Preece's attention away from Quidditch and they'll lose the cup."

"So I'm sabotaging my own house?", you muse, your eyes flickering between his own.

Something seems to falter inside Mattheo's eyes for a second before a teasing smile grows on his face. "Well, you can't have everything princess."

Huming, you fall back into your chair. "Sure. When and where will our first 'date' be?", you use air quotations when you say date.

"I've heard that Saturday is going to be a sunny day."

"Sure. Eleven okay? We could meet up in the Clocktower courtyard. That way a lot of people see us leave together."

And with that, quite casually, your totally not fake date with Mattheo Riddle is agreed.

Taglist (bold means I couldn't tag you): @mylosz0 @kermits-bitch

[lnfours]

so it goes with lando 🫶

all i’m thinking about is that all black fit he had on in max’s stream and now im going feral

join the 11k celebration!

come over.

the two words lit up his screen in the dim lighting, the text from you pulling him away from the movie on the tv and his friends sitting on max’s couch. he was quick to respond, smiling at his phone softly.

miss me already?

it had been two weeks since you’ve seen him. you knew he was back home, his instagram stories and the update accounts let you know that. you two had made sure that whatever this was, was kept a secret. a thing that only the two of you knew about.

you rolled your eyes at his text, your attention fully on your phone instead of your roommates talking in your room. they were going over the game-plan for their night out, talking about which bars to hit and which ones to avoid.

“you sure you don’t wanna go, y/n?”

your name made your head snap up, “yeah, no, im not feeling up to it so i just planned on staying here.”

“alright, uber’s here,” the brunette, hannah, said to the blonde, clara. your best friends since the three of you met in college, “we’ll see you later!”

“take a shot for me! be careful!” you said to them and they both gave you a thumbs up before you heard the front door shut behind them.

you went back to your phone when it buzzed with another text.

let me think of an excuse to get out of max’s and i’ll be over.

you smiled, typing back to him.

sounds good.

lando locked his phone, standing up from the couch, “i’m sorry to run, but i’ve gotta go.”

max looked at him confused, “you okay, mate?”

lando nodded, slipping his shoes on, “yeah, i remembered i have to go pick something up from the cleaners before they close. it’s for the thing with tumi tomorrow.”

max nodded, everyone bidding him a goodbye before he made his way out of the house. the cool spring air washed over him and he let out a huff, unlocking the doors to his car. he sent you another text before pulling onto the road.

on my way

your phone lit up on your vanity, grabbing your attention from your reflection in the mirror. you smiled, adding a heart to his message. excitement filling you as you rubbed your lips together, the lipstick he had once complimented you on sitting on your lips.

a little while later, there was a knock on your door. you jogged down the stairs, opening it and smiling at the man in front of you before taking him in. black button up, black jeans, and the signature backwards mclaren cap. he looked good. too good.

“you never answered my question,” he smirked, letting you pull him inside.

you smiled, “i think this is an answer in of itself,”

[monzabee]

you'll change your name or change your mind - cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you find your way back home, even if the journey takes longer than you think. 

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!bianchi!reader 

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: mentions of jules and his accident, ANGST, talks about college acceptances in the US but it’s not accurate because i’ve never applied for US schools, mentions of alcohol and underage drinking/clubbing (only in the US though), mentions of a fake id, mentions of cheating, fighting, charles being stupid and not realising it, talks about processing grief, GRIEF, survivor’s guilt, talks of therapy, friends to lovers y’all. 

Request: “The Charles fanfic was so good!! Can you write more angsty but happy needing Charles? I think it’s be cute for a man who loves Monaco so much to got to wherever his girlfriend lives Ike London or nyc often and deal with that. Maybe she hates monaco lol” + “if your requests are still open, max or charles + “you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me.” thanks!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i decided to give into the whole angst thing and i can honestly say that i’m having a great time. i wanted to include Jules somehow in this one because i’ve been seeing some edits on tiktok and let me tell you proofreading was a bitch because i kept crying. also, my spotify kept bringing up lorde and hannah montana songs, so there you go. this was definitely a hard one to write and i know it’s messy, but all feedback is appreciated. thank you, anon, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Monaco is full of memories. It’s filled with memories of your childhood, your parents picking up you and your siblings from school in Nice, and getting the train to Monaco for your brother to compete in karting races. It’s filled with laughter, and ice cream, and friends. It’s also filled with fears, loss and uncertainty, and you suppose that’s why you didn’t ever want to go back. But you find your back there every time, even if it is only for a couple of days at a time. Although it reminds you of the bad times, it’s hard to erase the good ones completely. 

Charles is just one of the people Jules brought into your life. He was right there since your birth – apparently, the Leclercs were visiting your family in Nice when your mother suddenly went into labour. You will always be thankful to Pascale and Hervé for stopping Jules from choosing your middle name to be Michael Schumacher. Neither Charles, nor you will forget the type of shenanigans you got up to as little kids, there is only a year difference between the two of you after all. There’s that one time you stole Charles’ kart and tried to go down the road, in which he caught you but instead of ratting you out to Lorenzo and Jules, who were supposed to be looking after you by the way, he helped you get it down the stairs and passed you his helmet as he explained how to go about it. Neither of your brothers were impressed by your ability to go fast or Charles’ sudden interest in maybe becoming a race engineer if the whole driver thing doesn’t work out. There was also the time when the two of you, along with Arthur, snuck out from a family friend’s wedding to only get lost in a city in the South of France; Charles got so stressed that he forgot how to speak French and proceeded to ask how to get back to the venue in Italian for the rest of the night. Needless to say, the two of you are there for each other no matter what; you stayed together through heartbreaks, wins, losses, losing Jules and Hervé, funerals, weddings and much more. The majority of your time together is spent in your family’s house in Nice. Charles doesn’t mind the half-hour journey, an hour if he decides to go back but he hardly ever does. Sometimes, he manages to convince you come to Monte Carlo for the day by bribing you with promises of sunsets and ice cream, but he will always drive you back if you insist you want to go home without any complain. 

The first time you bring up the topic of moving, you’re in your last year of high school; by that time, Charles is already racing in Formula One, so your time together is limited to breaks between the races. However he tries his hardest to be there for you, from talking you through breakdowns that occur after long study sessions, to looking up pre-med programmes for you to apply all over the world. You never wanted to live your entire life between Nice and Monte Carlo in the first place, so is he is more than happy to help you explore your options. Your application results arrive when he’s on break between the races, so the two of you sit on the small table in his Monaco apartment’s kitchen, the light from your laptop lighting up both of your faces as you open up the emails one by one. You’re most anxious about your application to Columbia, which is 3.462 miles away from Nice, and 3.993 from Monte Carlo. By the time you finish opening up all the emails, both of you are sitting there with a silence between you. The acceptance letter still open on your laptop is congratulating you for your offer to join Columbia’s pre-med program the following September. 

“Yes,” He looks at you expectantly, “Accept it, Y/N, you shouldn’t be even thinking about it!”

“Yes?” You let out a nervous laugh. “It’s not that simple, Charles–” 

“But it is!” He argues, a big smile on his face. You can tell he is proud of you by the look in his eyes and the way his emotions carry through his voice. “It’s your top choice of school!”

“It’s also in New York, it means that there will be an entire ocean between us!” 

He shrugs. “So?” 

“So?” Your eyes widen in surprise, you start staking your head a little without being aware that you are doing it. “Doesn’t that scare you?” 

“Chérie,” Charles coos, pulling your chair by its leg to bring you closer to him and wrap a supportive arm around your body. His chest rumbles from his low laughter as he presses kisses to your hair. “We’ll be fine, look at everything we’ve been through, and we’re not even that old.” 

You scoff, hitting his chest in an attempt to get away; you start furiously typing on your computer. “You are old,” you point to him with a tilt of your head, “I’m not, though.” 

He rolls his eyes and turns his concentration to the tab still open on your computer, “You’re going to accept the offer, though, right?” 

You end up accepting the offer. Charles and his family is there alongside yours to send you off on a plane to New York City. Both your mother and Charles’ have tears in their eyes as they say their goodbyes, with your father giving you a similar look. Being the youngest of four siblings, it must’ve been hard to send their youngest all the way across an ocean, but they let you know that you have their support in every step of the way. With Charles’ schedule for the remaining races scattered all over the world, he tells you not to force yourself and to enjoy your first months as a college student. 

You surprise him in Austin, though. Arranging this surprise is definitely not the easiest, but you ask Lorenzo for his help and he is more than happy to make arrangements for you. It’s the end of Friday’s last practice session when you surprise him in the Alfa Romeo garage. He almost walks past you, to get rid of his helmet when you say his name, but once he realises it is you he quickly pulls in for a hug. “What are you doing here?” He asks you while laughing with glee. 

“Heard there’s an immunology seminar in town about the effects of talking a shower and then going out without drying your hair.” You answer with all the seriousness you can muster. 

“Really?” He asks in confusion, taking his helmet and balaclava off and trying to fix his sweat-soaked hair. 

You hit the back of his head lightly, shaking your head in disbelief. “No! I came here to see you race, you idiot!” 

He shakes head in understanding. “Oh, oh!” His eyes widen once again with recognition this time. 

“Yes, oh, now come on, we’re going out.” You’re quick to add, “To dinner because airplane food sucks. We’re going out clubbing after the race, though.” 

True to your word, you go clubbing after his race on Sunday, which Charles is not entertained by. He’s paranoid by the fact that you are in the club with them in the first place, which should not be happening because you’re underage. He keeps silent as you show the bouncer your id, which he knows is a fake, by the way; as he sends Lorenzo an incredulous look, his older brother’s reaction consisting off a shrug of the shoulders makes him more paranoid. 

“Y/N, you should not be drinking.” He voices his concern, as you’re on your second drink of the night. “This is wrong.” 

“How is this different than me drinking back at home?” You argue with your eyebrows raised. “You don’t tell me I can’t drink when we’re back home.” 

“Because it is legal for you to do so there!” Charles exclaims, somehow gathering the attention of some of the clubbers nearby, but he offers them an apological smile and then turns back to you with his voice lowered. “You’re not twenty one, ergo – you shouldn’t be drinking.” 

“Pfft,” You shrug him off, “You’re stupid, and I’m bored. You want to dance?” 

You help Charles to move into his flat in Italy when he starts racing for Ferrari. Though he still lives in Monaco full-time, he rented a small place in Maranello to stay when he’s travelling. It’s an emotional event, which has both of you sitting on the floor of his new apartment going through boxes of old photographs. He finds one of his brothers and Jules with you, standing in front of a karting ring with big smiles in all of your faces. You fingers involuntarily trace over your brother, your eyes misting when you think about the day. 

“He was so young,” You whisper, having to swallow a sob which threatens to escape. 

Your eyes linger on the photograph for a while, and Charles quickly understands that you were not talking about the photograph as the tears you were trying to hold back find their way onto your cheeks. “He was.” He agrees; there aren’t enough words in the world to describe what losing a family member does to a person, and he understands you in a way most people cannot. 

You offer him a sad smile through your tears. “He would be so proud of you.” 

“He would be also so proud of you,” He whispers right back, leaning closer to you so that he could wipe away the few stray tears. “In fact, I am pretty sure he is.” 

“Stop it.” You laugh softly through your tears as you push yourself to get off the floor, and dry under your eyes with your fingers as you look across the room. “Oh my god, Charles, we have so many boxes to go through.” 

He gets up after you and looks around the dusty living room as he attempts to get rid of the dust on his clothes. “We do, don’t we?” He watches as you kneel in front of an unopened box and slice through the tape with a knife, and starting to go through the items in the box. He watches you go through the items silently for a while, noticing how seriously you take the task. His eyes linger on the frown on your face for a while, the way your eyebrows scrunch in question, or how you tuck a stubborn piece of hair, which escapes from the braid in your hair, to the back of your ear. He stalks closer, gently gripping one of your wrists and pulling you to your feet. “Dance with me.” He asks – which comes off less as an ask and more of a demand, which causes you to playfully roll your eyes at him. 

“Charles, the boxes–” You try to argue. 

His laugh is laced with mischief. “The boxes will still be there, chérie, just one dance won’t change anything.” 

You try to come with arguments in your head but all your attempts are quickly thrown out the window when you realise just how green Charles’ eyes actually are. “We don’t have any music.” You try to offer as a measly argument. 

Charles raises his eyebrows as he wraps his arms around your waist after making you wrap yours around his neck. “We don’t need any music, Y/N.” 

So you give up in any attempts in stopping him, as he starts to slowly sway both of your bodies from side to side. You let out a chuckle when he stars, terribly, humming to an old song you used to hear on the radio. “This is stupid.” You mumble as you keep up your pace with his movements. 

“You seem to keep calling me that.” Charles recalls, making both of you laugh in recognition. “I need to tell you something important.” 

“So tell me,” you encourage him, motioning him to continue. 

“I met someone.” He announces, a small smile playing on his lips. 

You breath get stuck for a moment, in which you remind yourself that Charles is waiting for your reaction – most likely a supportive one at that. “Wow, Charles.” You breath out and give him a smile, which you successfully manage to pass off as a supportive one, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your voice breaks off in the end. “I’m so happy for you.”

You’re not stupid – thinking that either of you could stay single forever is an unrealistic one. But it hurts to imagine him with another person while he looks at you like that makes a part of you crumble up into a ball on your bed and cry. And that’s just what you do when you go back to the hotel that night (because the house is still unliveable when the two of you decide you’re done for the day). You try to keep your sobs as quiet as possible because you know Charles is in the hotel room next to yours. As you’re looking out the window, watching the night sky light up with stars in Maranello that night, you tell yourself you, somehow, need to move on from your best friend. 

The next time you see Charles is during Christmas time. You have a tradition – Lorenzo, Charles, Jules and you, a tradition, which Arthur joined once he was old enough. It’s a peculiar one. While it’s not uncommon for most families to watch Christmas movies during this time of the year, your choice of movie has not Christmas elements in it at all. Every Christmas, the four of you watch The Sound of Music. It’s a silly tradition which was born out of boredom and lack of movies one Christmas, but it’s a tradition you managed carried out every year. 

You can still remember Lorenzo complaining because “It’s three hours of songs about whiskers and bass clef.” 

While Jules gives his best friend an unamused glare, both you and Charles try to mimic the Frenchman who you idolise. “It has nuns, songs, Nazis and familial love, Lorenzo, what more could you ask for?” He shrugs as he turns his attention back on screen, “Plus, Julie Andrews is hot.” 

“Why would she be hot?” You remember asking, the woman on the screen not seeming uncomfortable by the weather. 

“No reason,” Jules assures you, wrapping one of his arms around you.“Watch the movie, shortcake.” 

And yes, while it might be stupid to watch the same movie, which has no Christmas value at all, every year on Christmas day, it’s a reminder that you have each other even if you’re not always together. So when you sit down to watch the movie that Christmas, there is a bad feeling in your stomach when you realise Charles is not there to watch it with you. If his brothers also find it weird that he’s not there they don’t make a comment, neither do you, for that matter. You try to push it to the back of your mind and enjoy the moment, telling yourself that even if this is a tradition between the four of you, it’s not the end of the world if you fail to do it. So you smile, and have fun throughout the day – when you’re watching the movie, or when you decide to hold a gingerbread house competition (Arthur wins, by the way), or when you sit down to have dinner with your families, and it makes you feel a thousand times better. 

It’s late when he comes home that night, Lorenzo and Arthur have already passed out on the couch with you trying to read the anatomy textbook on your lap in the low light. 

“Hi.” He greets you as he gives you a tight-lipped smile. 

“Hi.” You whisper back, trying not to wake up the boy sleeping next to you. “Did you have fun?” 

“Yeah, it was a good day.” He answers truthfully, and then motions the book resting on your knees. “Aren’t you going to go to sleep?”

“No, I think I’m going to stay here tonight.” 

He doesn’t argue as he presses a kiss on your temple. “Okay, good night, chérie.”

One thing about Charles, is that he is very secretive about his relationships – to the point where he won’t introduce someone to you or his family if he doesn’t think the relationship is going somewhere. So, when he brings over Charlotte for lunch the next day, there is a buzz around the house. The lunch goes well, you think. Charlotte is sweet, and the two of you talk about many things including your universities; she’s very impressed that you want to go into the medical field and you tell her that architecture must be a pain in the ass to study and she agrees with a loud laugh. 

When Pascale asks them what they did for Christmas yesterday, Charlotte leans against Charles’ arm as she answers, “Oh, nothing. We just stayed home and watched that old movie – what was it again?” 

“The Sound of Music.” Charles answers, his eyes are focused on his hands, and you know this, because your eyes don’t heave his frame until Arthur forces you to carry the dishes into the kitchen. 

“We’ll do them, maman,” he announces when Pascale attempts to tidy up the dishes, “Y/N will help me, won’t you?” 

“Yeah, sure.” You nod, the voice coming off from you not matching the sunny disposition you present to the rest of the room. 

You carry the dishes Arthur passes to you to the kitchen, holding your breath in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, and you succeed, too. At least until Arthur comes after you, carrying more dishes and places them next to the other ones near the kitchen sink. You start scrubbing them with intensity, your sniffles and the sound from water whooshing around in the sink filling the room. Arthur pulls you against him as you lean your forehead to his shoulder, or where you can on his arm due to your height-difference, as you start quietly sobbing. Arthur turns the tap on as he lets you cry into his shoulder. 

The two of you return to the dining room after the dishes are done, and continue the conversation as if nothing happened. After Charlotte announces that she should be on her way, you walk her to the door with everyone, the two of you exchanging numbers as she makes you promise to go shopping with her the next time you’re in Monaco. You agree with a chuckle and tell her only if she teaches you how to draw because your “Anatomy notes are seriously suffering.” After she gives Charles a kiss and leaves, Charles turns to you. 

“It’s just a movie.” He says in a low voice. 

“You’re allowed to have fun with your girlfriend, Charles.” You assure him and pat his shoulder for good measure. Then, you turn to Arthur, who is watching the exchange with a confused look on his face. “Want to play a round before I leave?” 

“Sure,” he agrees and the two of you move into the living room to play a round of F1 on the PlayStation. He sets it up for you as you try to get comfortable on the couch, trying to get rid of the feeling of unease as Charles watches you from the other side of the couch. “Who do you want to pick?” Arthur asks you, the cursor hovering over his choice – who is of course his brother. 

You stay quiet for a moment and answer him in a calm voice, “Give me Max.” 

Charles scoffs from the other side and pushes himself off, his arms crossed over his chest. “Rich, Y/N, just rich.” 

“What?” you ask him with faux innocence and a shrug of your shoulders. 

His voice is accusatory when he snaps, “Stop being childish for a moment.”  

“Oh, I’m being childish?” You ask him, getting off the couch as well. 

“Yes, you’re being extremely childish right now.” He agrees, nodding his head. “Glad we at least agree on that.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask again while narrowing your eyes. 

He scoffs, “It’s just a stupid movie.” 

“I didn’t say a fucking word about the movie, Charles.” You point out, mimicking his pose as you cross your arms over your chest. In reality, it’s a short attempt at trying to hide your shaking hands. “But it’s not a stupid movie, it’s tradition.” 

“Traditions can be broken from time to time.” He argues.

“I didn’t say they couldn’t.” You shrug, trying to appear indifferent to the man in front of you. 

“Maybe if you tried to stick around for more than three days at a time, you wouldn’t be so upset about these type of things.” 

Your mouth hangs open in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Charles, maybe you should–” Arthur tries to stop his brother, but Charles waves him off. 

“Sometimes I think ‘Did I do something?’, but then I realise that maybe the problem is not me–”

Though you’re shocked by his words, you find yourself assuring him, “It’s not, it has nothing to do with you.” 

Both you and Arthur can see something snaps in him, causing him to raise his voice. “Then what is it? Tell me so I can fix it and you can stop running away!” 

You shake your head, your arms which are wrapped around you becoming tighter as an attempt to provide yourself some sort of protection. “You can’t fix it, Charles.” 

His arms become undone as his fists ball on either side of his body. “You don’t know that–”

“No you can’t!” You scream, somehow more tears flowing from your eyes. “You can’t bring Jules back because he’s dead, and you can’t fix me because I’m not a toy! You think I want to live this way? You think I want to go back every damn time I set foot in this city because I just hate it here? I can’t bear the thought of staying here because of the fact that my brother died while I was here and I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.” You point a finger towards him, your voice gradually becoming louder to match his. “He was dead by the time I got back to the hospital and they told me he couldn’t hold on any longer, how do you think that makes me feel every time I feel like I’ve overstayed in this city, huh?”

“You need to stop living in the past, Y/N.” He shakes his head. “Don’t you see you’re letting the past hold you back?” 

“‘Letting the past hold me back’ do you even hear yourself right now? I am trying my best to move on!” 

“By moving across the ocean?” He asks you, “By leaving the people you love you behind?” 

“You– you can do this!” You scream as you walk towards him and jab your finger against his chest. “You told me to take the offer, you told me to move away because you were so sure we’d be fine.” 

“Well maybe I was wrong.” He whispers, grabbing both of your wrists to stop you from poking him and curling his arms closer to his chest. 

Your eyes widen with a furious look in them, which makes him realise he sees more of Jules in them than before. “Screw you, Charles.” You struggle against his hold, hitting his chest with your fists with every word as you scream, “Screw you for trying to dictate how I process my grief, and screw you for acting so indifferent.” You win your struggle in the end, taking advantage of the fact that he is both distracted and speechless to get out of his hold and quickly grab your things. 

“Where are you going?” He asks you as you’re putting your coat on. 

“Anywhere but here.” You snap at him, refusing to meet his eyes. 

Arthur quickly comes near you with a concerned look, “You shouldn’t be driving right now, at least let me drive you.” 

You give him the warmest smile you can muster up, “I’ll be fine, ThurThur,” your eyes find Charles’ as you continue, “Don’t ever change, okay?”

After the disastrous Christmas last year, you two didn’t talk for a whole year, even though the people around you tried their hardest to bring you to talk to each other. Even Charlotte tried to trick you into spending time, claiming that she had a work emergency just as you arrived at the lunch you two scheduled to find Charles sitting there – you quickly left without being seen and spent the day walking through the marina because “Fuck Charles if he thinks you can’t spend more than three days in Monte Carlo.” He spends Christmas with Charlotte again, but unlike this year, you don’t feel sad about his absence, choosing to call it growth when reality it’s actually packing it away to deal with it another time. 

The two of you eventually do make up, though, when you go to one of Arthur’s races to support him and run into Charles on the track. You talk between breaks, both of you succumbing and apologising to each other for the things you’ve said – him more than you, but you still apologise for the way you’ve acted afterwards. Arthur has a strange smile on his face when he finds you, releasing a relieved breath when you told him that you’re fine and you’re going to take baby steps. 

“Good,” he smiles, “maman was about to lock you onto Charles’ yacht.” 

Your therapist calls is ‘survivor’s guilt’. Yes, you have one of those now because although you want it to be false, you think a part of what Charles said might be right. She explains to you that it’s a natural response where someone has suffered a loss and you didn’t. This confuses you, though, because even if the loss in question is the death of your brother, you weren’t there to experience it with the rest of your family. Dr. Gambini is there to explain that “Although it implies experience, it doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t not feel the loss of something you didn’t get to suffer.” So, you go through the therapy experience to try to understand your own feelings, which makes you think maybe it is what you should be focusing on in the first place. It’s an overwhelming feeling, understanding things about yourself which you didn’t before – the things you used to feel slowly gain meaning as you go about it. You’re proud of yourself when you talk about it to your parents, and they tell you that they are proud of you for giving it a go. Charles joins you in one of your sessions – it’s Charlotte’s idea, actually. He tries to understand why, and how he can help you – he leaves the session feeling proud of you for taking care of yourself. 

A few months later, you get a phone call from him when you’re in the middle of the week when you are studying,  while all of your friends are away for spring break. His voice is thick with tears as he tells you that it’s over between him and Charlotte, but refuses to give you a reason when you ask why. It leaves you confused in New York, but when he asks you if you can come home for the weekend, you don’t hesitate to book a ticket for the next flight out. He’s shocked to find you standing in front of his door, but pulls you in for a hug anyway. Neither of you care about the duffel bag that hits the floor at your feet, even when you’re stumbling over it to get to him. You don’t talk, but hold each other throughout the night. He offers to cook for you, but you decide that ordering pizza is a better solution than trying to each what Charles attempts to cook. So, you end up deciding on pizza and a movie. 

You look at him confused when you realise which movie he’s selected, “It’s not Christmas, Charles.” 

He sits down on the couch, and pulls you under his arm as he reaches for the pizza box sitting on the coffee table. There’s a nostalgic smile on his face which you cannot understand. “I owe you two screenings of this movie, Y/N. Now eat your pizza and watch it.” 

So, the two of you watch the movie in silence – with silently laughing in relevant scenes and Charles even attempting to sing the Lonely Goatherd, which leaves you in tears because of how much you’re laughing. At the end of the night he walks you to the guest room in his apartment and pulls you for one last hug, whispering, “Thank you for coming,” into your hair. 

“Of course, Charles.” You whisper, turning your head and softly pressing a kiss to his shirt-covered chest. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning. 

He’s in the kitchen when you wake up in the morning, focusing so intently on something on his phone to notice you. You ruffle his hair as you make your way through the kitchen to make some breakfast for the two of you. “Good morning to you too, you grump.” You tell him, when you finish getting out the ingredients for the breakfast you have in mind. 

“Morning, chérie.” He answers, in a non-committal voice.  

“And to think I was going to make you pancakes.” You sigh as you halt the movement of your hands and lean against the counter. 

A playful smile is on your lips when Charles excitedly raises his head. “Pancakes?” He asks in a soft voice. 

“I was going to add chocolate chips, too, but you didn’t say good morning to me and now I don’t think I’m in mood to be honest with you.” You shrug, starting to put away the bowls you took out. 

He quickly comes behind the counter to tickle some sense in you, and you use the bowl in your hands as a shield as you start laughing. He gives up after a while, pressing a kiss to your temple and fixing some of your hair which fell out of place during the ‘fighting’. “Good morning, how can I help you?”

“Wow, you actually want to help me cook for a change?” You coo, ruffling his hair again and hitting his hip with yours to get him out of your way. “Go wait on the other side, you grumpy baby.” He complies to your directions to sit on the other side of the island, but doesn’t bother with his phone this time. You make a motion towards his phone on the island with your head as you crack the eggs into the bowl. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, just some problem with the car.” He answers. “I might need to go to Maranello for a day or two. When is your flight back to New York?” 

“Oh– I can change it if you know the date–” You start to say, but he quickly cuts you off. 

“What? No, I don’t want you to go back.” He quickly says, shaking his head. “I just thought you might want to come with me rather than stay here.” 

“Oh,” You say, looking around. “It’s not a problem, I can stay and study.” 

There is a confused look on his face. “Stay? Here?” He asks over and over again. “Here? Stay? Alone?”

“Yes, Charles, I can manage to stay by myself.” You sigh. “I did it last summer for a month, you can trust me, alright?”

“You were in Monte Carlo for a month, last summer? How did I not catch you at all?” 

You let out another sigh, “In case you don’t realise, I’m very good at avoiding you.” You continue when he gives you yet another confused look as you start mixing the batter. “Charlotte told me to meet her at a restaurant but it was a set up for me to meet with you, so I got in the car and drove away. It was probably the closest we got to each other.” 

“Wow.” He looks at you with wide eyes. “Just, wow.” 

You roll your eyes and glare at him. “Stop looking at me like that. My classes are all online this semester and Dr. Gambini thinks it’s good for me to spend more time here; it’s supposed to help me get closure, or something.” 

He gives you a big smile. “I’m proud of you, Y/N.” 

“Yeah?” You ask him, his smile quickly mirroring on your own lips. 

“Yeah.” He breathes out. “And you can stay here all you want! And cook me breakfast, you know.” 

You let out a laugh this time. “I can get my own place, Charles.” 

“But then who will cook me breakfast?” He asks with a small pout. 

“You are a child, Perceval.” You laugh at the way he looks at you, with his elbows bent over the counter and his upper body leaning over the stove. “I’m only cooking you breakfast; you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me after this.” You joke. 

You turn around to look in the cupboard for the chocolate chips as you hear him mumble, “Too late.” 

You almost hit your head at the open cupboard door when you turn right back to look at him. “What?” You walk towards the island as you mumble out, “No, no, no, no, don’t say that. You just broke up with your girlfriend, Charles.”

“We broke up almost five months ago.” He announces, no hint of joking in his voice. “Right before the Abu Dhabi race.” 

“That’s not true.” You say, shaking your head. “I spoke to Charlotte; she told me everything was fine.” 

He shrugs, then offers you an explanation. “We announced it a couple of months later, but we’ve been broken up for a while.” 

“But then why did you call me a couple of days ago to tell me it was over?” You ask him, visibly confused. 

He looks guilty as he admits. “I– I don’t have a good answer for that.” He stalks over to the other side of the island again to trap you between himself and the marble in an attempt to prevent you from evading. “All I can say is that I love you.” 

“Oh, wow.” You say, suddenly you can find the right choice for words. “Say that again for me?”

“I love you, Y/N.” 

“Now in French?” 

“Je t'aime.”

“In Italian?”

“Ti amo.” He laughs this time, leaning down towards you to bring his face towards yours. “You done?” You nod your head with a giggle escaping past your lips. “This would be a perfect time to say something, you know.” 

“Oh, right.” You nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you.” 

“What?” He asks in horror. 

“Yeah, thank you. You know, for the–”

“Chérie!” He exclaims with his eyes wide. 

You continue your giggles as you place your hands on his cheeks and pull his face towards you, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you too, chez moi,” my home/place. The pancakes are long-forgotten when you pres your lips on his to give him a kiss, somewhere in the universe your twelve year-old is high-fiving with herself, but you are happy to be finally home. 

[sanakimohara]

“COLA” - B.C.

“I got a taste for men who are older…”

Synopsis: Having a crush on her best friend’s older brother was a secret Y/n L/n had managed to hide for years. She presumed those feelings had disappeared over time, but when Chris—or rather, Chan, as he’s called by the rest of the world—makes a surprise visit to Australia to spend his last break of the year with his family, Y/N is bewildered to find that she, in fact, is still infatuated with her best friend's brother. Unbeknownst to her, Chan is already well aware of it and isn’t above taking advantage of her innocent crush on him. All fun and games, right?

WARNINGS: [MDNI! 18+] pining, fluff, smut, a bit of angst, cursing, smoking, and alcohol use. oh and the DDGL dynamic is implied…

A/N: Let’s hope I don’t scrap this and at least finish writing it…also Chan is his current age 25 and the reader is 18+

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*click click click*

The pen in her hand chirped the sound repeatedly as she anxiously toyed with it. Her foot tapped under the desk she sat at, another sign of her stress level rising and a less noisy indicator of nervousness to her peers seated around her. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to clear her racing mind for a split second to conjure up an answer to the question printed on the paper in front of her.

It seemed impossible to focus on the invisible weight of perfectionism that she subconsciously mounted. It was just a test. A written one. No big deal. She’d been completing assessments like this all year. However, the notion of it being the final and most important test of the year had Y/n second-guessing knowledge she’d consumed tirelessly throughout the year. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she inhaled and exhaled as slowly as her body would allow her to before her gaze refocused on the question.

She scanned it once, then twice; the answer to it eventually peeked through the fog that was her brain. She jotted it down with urgency before flipping the paper over to signal she was done. The professor monitoring the room full of boarding students lifts their heads at the sound of a paper turning. To no surprise, Y/N is the culprit of the clumsy noise but receives no reprimand from the instructor. Instead, they smile and motion for the young woman to hand her packet of questions in.

Y/N wastes no time in doing so, gathering her personal belongings before retrieving the paper. She cautiously descends the stairs that lead towards the professor's desk, and when she reaches her destination, she smiles sweetly and places the packet in the professor’s waiting hand. “You had me worried for a moment Ms, L/n,” they joke with a knowing smile and said girl nervously glanced at her shoes before answering in a hushed voice with a coy smile. “I was worried for myself actually…” It’s the truth. Her anxiety always worsened under pressure -especially during tests.

The professor maintained their smile and began grading her packet which slightly unnerved Y/n. “I don’t see why you’d be worried Ms. L/n. Your work has been exceptional the whole year….” The paused, pen pointed right at Y/n, “…you shouldn’t worry so much all the time. You can relax sometimes, it’s healthy for you, you know?” Y/n nodded, internally grimacing as they repeated advice she’d heard a thousand times before, but found it increasingly harder to do in a prestigious school without a single friend there to “relax” with.

She wasn’t a social butterfly but she did prefer the company of friends she’d grown close to throughout her childhood. Unfortunately, most of them attended other universities, started a family early, or just down right fell of the face of the earth at some point. The only person she had left to spend time with was Hannah Bang. Her best friend since grade school who had chosen to attained university closer to her family.

Y/n wished she could’ve done the same but her parents would never allow it, so here she was being told to find joy in her life of education without a single person to do so with. “I’ll keep that in mind Professor. May I leave now?” Y/n already knew they wouldn’t deny her request since it was the last day of the semester but as polite as she was walking out without properly asking didn’t seem right.

The professor stared at her a bit longer, a sort of concern swimming in their eyes as they processed her question. A moment passed and then the instructor wished her a good break and allowed her to leave with a simple nod of their head. Y/n let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as she exited the cathedral like seminar room and entered the limestone halls of the large campus.

Not many students were out and about and even less took notice of her so she pulled her phone out and checked her messages. A smile appeared on her face as a new message alert from Hannah Bang shown on her screen.

>> You’re still coming right? 🤨

Y/n rolled her eyes at Hannah’s sarcasm. She could practically hear Hannah asking her this with a trademark snicker in her tone.

<< yes, I wouldn’t miss it for the world :)

>> Yes you actually would. Well, for a test or smth 🙄

<< wow you got me there Han…

>> I in fact do.

>> no but seriously…

>> I won’t forgive you if you cancel last minute like you did last year.. :(

Y/n cringes remembering how she backed out of her plans with Hannah last minute last holiday. There were a mixture of reasons she’d canceled but the main and most truthful reason was because Hannah had mentioned her older brother would also be at home for the holidays.

Like a coward, Y/n immediately backed out of staying with the Bang family hearing the news that he was there. She felt so ashamed and selfish of that decision and so when Hannah offered Y/n a chance to spend her break with them again this year she couldn’t bring herself to refuse.

It also helped that Hannah mentioned her older brother wouldn’t be making appearance like last time. Y/n gulped, face turning rose red, tummy doing backflips as the thought of seeing Christopher Bang in the flesh again caused her to malfunction. She chewed on her inner cheek, mindlessly wandering to lean up against a nearby wall as the few memories of him she’d religiously studied for years flooded her head. It was like all the logic left and all she could think about was him. After all these years she’d thought he’d be a distant memory or at least a less vivid one.

That just wasn’t the case though and no matter how many times she denied her attraction to Hannah’s older brother, the mere mention of him had her dumbfounded with adoration.

*buzz buzz*

Y/n snapped out of her lovesick daze as her phone vibrated. She’d totally forgotten to answer Hannah’s text and tried not face palm herself for it.

>> Leaving me on read is so mean.

<< Shush you’ll survive Han. I just blanked for a minute sorry.

>> Sure whatever you say 😔

<< don’t try to guilt me Han. You leave me on read like 99 % of the time

>> damn you got me there.

>> okay so you’re coming right? My mom keeps asking me so hurry up and decide!

<< I said you yes I’ll be there Han…

<< Just to be clear though….Chris won’t be there this year right?

>> …no why?

>> are you mad at him for something cause you asked me that last year too..🤨

<< NO I’m not mad at him lol!…

<< I was just wondering cause ya know he seems so busy in Korea with his band.

>> Oh I see.. I forget that you’re a closeted Stay sometimes.

>> No, he won’t be here though. Told our dad him and the members have too many end of the year award shows to preform at this time.

Y/n relaxed her body reading Hannah’s last text. A twinge of disappointment hit her heart but overall she was glad Chris wouldn’t be an obstacle in her break. Besides being attracted to him, her and Chris got along fairly well the few times she’d interacted with him while hanging out with Hannah. Due to his career and their slight age gap there wasn’t much Y/n could hold a conversation with him about and it was no help that she was in fact a fan of Stray Kids since their debut.

The pride she felt watching them on stage -watching Chan perform- was immeasurable but she assumed if he ever found out about her love for his idol activities he’d avoid her entirely.

A double edged sword that Y/n wasn’t fond of.

She told herself it wouldn’t be an issue this year though. Spending time with Hannah and Mrs & Mr Bang was all she wanted. Her family weren’t very….warm to be around. Especially not around the holidays so she preferred the company and hospitality of the Bang family anytime they offered it.

Y/n pushed her body off the cold stone wall, continuing her walk to her dorm suit across the campus as she texted Hannah back.

<< okay.

<< omw to start packing, see you in like 5 hours i think?..

>> your uni is only 4 hours away dummy…but yeah I’ll see you then :)

She shut her phone off, slipping it into her bag of belongings, and continuing on her way towards her dorm.

The whole walk there she was smiling, already reminding about the time she’d spent with the Bang family. How Hannah was and always will be her favorite person but most of all Chris, and the way his presence melted over her existence like warm honey.

As much as she wanted to taste its divine sweetness she knew it’d only make a mess of things…

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This was a series posted on my main acc but I decided to move it here. Please lmk what you think and if I should continue it. I already have PT2 in the works…

BONUS CONTENT +

[admirationandromantics]

Gettogether

Chris Hartley x reader!

An idea that came to mind. The day before the disappearance of Hannah and Beth. You and Chris have a thing for one another, and it escalates. The original idea was putting eyeliner on him, and I had so much fun writing it!!

PS! Involves drinking and sexual themes (18++)

Word count: 1,7 k (Unedited!)

Everyone is laughing while sitting in the uneven circle. Emily and Jess went to the kitchen a while ago and are still gone. Jess was the first to stand up, a mischievous look plastered on her face. Her excuse was mixing a new drink, and she forcibly dragged Emily with her while laughing. I don’t know what they’re planning, but it must be good since I occasionally hear loud snickers coming from them. 

While the others talk I glance over at Chris. He’s sitting at the other side. Not on the sofa, but below it, using it only as back support. In his hand is his fifth beer. At least not less than that. He’s wearing a dark green sweater, which suits him perfectly, curving at the best angles. Suddenly he brings his eyes up, meeting mine. A bit of blush covers him, but I’m probably just seeing things. Shit. I look away quickly, not feeling the heat on my cheeks. I do know it's there though. Luckily, the dim light and alcohol makes it almost impossible to see, I hope. In the corner of my eyes I see Josh whisper something to him, and they both look at me. I need some air, or at least a reason to get out a little. The storm outside is not slowing down, and is said to be even stronger tomorrow, so I wouldn’t dare to actually go outside. For now, I’m keeping calm. I should just try to join the conversation. 

Mike is talking about his latest occurrence at the gym. He was apparently hit on by a girl, and it was quite an ordeal. While he’s talking I notice long stares shifting between Sam and Josh. I automatically smile and signal to Ashley and Beth to look. They notice and then both look at each other. We have to do something. Before I get an idea, Hannah turns beside me, looking strongly at my face. I stiffen, and give her a look. 

“Everything okay Hannah?”

She loosens up, laughs a little. 

“Yeah yeah, sorry”.

She shifts before moving her hand up to her own face. 

“Your mascara is a bit smudged, want me to fix it for you?” 

Oh. I haven’t touched up my makeup since I put it on in the morning. I thank her, but tell her how it probably all needs to be fixed, so I would do it quickly in the bathroom. 

“Let me know if you need anything”.

“Thanks Han!” I shout while walking up the stairs. 

I hear whispers behind me, but can’t make out what they’re saying. Instead of trying, I quickly get my make-up bag from my room and go to the bathroom. My mascara is not a bit smudged. It’s very smudged. How didn’t I notice before? I clean it up before deciding to redo both my eyeliner and mascara. The highlighter is still going strong and I have a hint of the eyeshadow present. I will only take three minutes max. 

Right before completion, Chris burst into the room. I give a screech before covering my mouth. 

“Gosh I’m incredibly sorry” he says with hands covering his eyes. My heart rate slows and I give a giggle before walking over to him and pulling his hands down. 

“I was just wondering if you wanted some company?” 

“No other reason for coming here?” I ask while walking back to the mirror. 

“Well, I don’t know, maybe” he mumbles. I can’t make out the rest as he sits down on the chair beside me. I complete the last part of my makeup before looking down at him. 

“You’re really good at that” he says while pointing up at the mascara wand. 

“Do you know what this is?”

A long silence falls, and before I can tease him, he says it’s for the eyes. I smile at him while he’s sitting there, very proud. 

“Do you want some?” I ask, taking out my eyeliner pencil from the bag. 

“Me? Absolutely not, I’m not putting that junk on my face”

My eyes narrow a bit, and he quickly follows up. 

“But you look great though, beautiful, hot, sexy everything you know, just…” 

As I get closer, he gets up from the stool and backs away. 

“Hey hey, I told you I didn’t want any of that”

I get in front of the door, locking it. 

“You didn’t just do that”

“I believe I did”

“You’re gonna pay if you put that thing on me”

“Oh please” I plead. “Just a little on the undereye, you would look dazzling”. 

“Nope, not a chance”. I think about the rest of the night, trying to remember something that I can use. I know. 

“Think of it as a form of payback for scaring the shit out of me when you walked in.”

He smirks. “Payback?” 

“And you thought I was naked for a second as well” I hurriedly add. 

“Damn you, fine. But only this time”. 

Chris is a funny and smart man, but thank goodness he also has integrity. I take his arm and lead him down to the floor. I have to release him as soon as he gets where he’s meant to be. I can’t help thinking about what’s under his clothing. He’s strong, I know he is. 

With his back against the bathtub, I carefully sit down on his lap. His breath stops for a moment, and I quickly lift myself up from him again. My own breath holds, and I look away. Boundaries, I seem to forget sometimes that we’re just friends. 

“Sorry, it’s just easier this way, we can do it some other way if you want.” As I turn around I feel his hand grabbing mine, dragging me down on him again. Both his hands are placed on either side of my hips. 

“No it’s fine, really. I was just surprised.” His grip is firm, and I can feel my face heat up once again. He takes my expression as a sign to drag me closer to him. Chest to chest. My breath is uneven, and I notice a faint blush on his cheeks. 

“So, are we gonna do it?” he asks. I’m stumped. 

“Wait what?”

“With that scary sharp thing you’re going to put in my eye”. His comment takes me out of my trance, and I give a genuine smile. 

“It’s not going inside your eye, just under it” I laugh, and he looks down. He shares my laugh before quickly taking hold of my waist, getting my face closer to his. His breath is on my chin. I’ve never felt as hot as I do now, like I’m steaming. He looks down at my lips before returning to my eyes. Then, in a swift motion, I meet his lips. My arms automatically go over his shoulders and in his hair, whilst his take all over my back, pressing me even closer if that’s possible. The kiss is warm and wet, and it doesn’t stop. I barely get any small breaks for breathing, making my head go a bit dizzy. I feel euphoric, and I can’t believe it’s actually happening. In the small breaks, he manages to make out a few words. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this”. I mumble a little ‘me too’ back, as I feel his fingers on my skin, under my shirt. 

“Fuck” I mumble, getting even hotter. How am I suppose to take this? And on the bathroom floor? 

“Chris?”

“Mhmm?”

“Where is all this confidence coming from?”

“Pent up energy”

He starts kissing my neck, moving down to my collarbone. 

“And some drinks of bravery”

“Got it”

He finds my spot, making me moan out his name. As we’re going on, I suddenly hear faint voices. 

“I told you it would work”

“I’m the perfect matchmaker”

I pull away. Chris looks confused, breathless, and needy, looking up at me with pleading eyes. 

“Wha-” I stop him with my hand. I know who it is. Tucking down my shirt, I quickly open the door and catch Josh and Hannah with their ears against the wall. I cough. Loudly. They both turn at the same time with completely different reactions. Hannah slowly backs away before running down the stairs, while Josh faces me with a smirk. 

“I told you he liked you, but you didn’t believe me,” he says. I give him a confused glare in return. 

“You know, I’m the reason this happened, I’m the perfect matchmaker.” he looks through the door, winking at Chris, who rolls his eyes. 

“I just had to make sure something happened, and knowing how skittish you are made it a perfect bonding moment”

“Josh, what the h-”

He interrupts, “But at the same time, if something were to happen, it can’t happen in there. We got people who want to use the bathroom tonight”. 

I can’t do anything but nod. The mood is ruined anyway. Chris appears behind me, one hand used for leaning against the door. 

“Dude, we had like, a moment”

“Yeah bro, and I’m sorry about that, but just do it somewhere else” he winks before walking away, joining the others. I then feel a hand going up my side, turning me around. I look up at him, and his perfect sweet face. 

“We should probably talk about this before we do anything.” he whispers. I nod in agreement. 

“Though, we’ve both been drinking, so this isn’t the time” I add. He smiles down at me, taking my face in his palms before lifting my chin. 

“What about tomorrow?”

“That sounds good” I turn around to join the others while taking his hand with me. I’m stopped by him and dragged into his embrace. 

“But, we could also just go to my room” he whispers against my ear. I think about it. I truly want to, but Josh kind of ruined it. 

“Isn’t the mood kinda low right now?” 

“Let me show you how good I am at picking up the mood then” he says, tracing a finger down my neck. Fuck he’s good. I grab ahold of his hand, dragging him with me. 

“Wait wait, that’s all it took?” he asks, clearly confused. 

“Yep” I reply. “Especially when you look like that and talk in such a manner”

“I had a whole thing planned, like, you know, stuff and things like that”. 

“Use them next time” 

“Will that be later tonight?”

“Of course”. As we’ve agreed he locks the door and turns around. Before I know it, I’m slammed against the bed, him immediately going on top and kissing me.

“I could do this all night” I say between kisses. 

“Good, cause we’re gonna”

[veeluvss]

jumper.

jj x autistic!daughter

angst

some words

jj’s daughter turns up at work after a traumatic event at school

the bau were working hard on completing recent case files when they heard the commotion in the hallway outside. derek turned around first, being nosy. however, seeing jj’s daughter, he rose to his feet.

people were crowding her. what was she even doing here?

“jj,” derek said, tapping her shoulder and looking out the glass doors.

“i just need my jumper!” she cried, pushing people out of the way. jj jumped from her seat, walking over to her clearly distressed daughter.

“mum! i need you,” she said panicked, stopping in front of her mum.

“what are you doing here, y/n?” jj asked, looking her up and down. her school uniform was disheveled, the plaits in her hair were a mess- like she’d been rubbing her head constantly, something she did when stressed.

“mum my jumper,” she whispered, glaring at her. “where is it?”

“baby it’s not here!” jj said suddenly.

a security guard walked into the bau then, going to grab y/n’s arm but morgan stopped him.

“it’s fine, she’s Jareau’s daughter,” he told the guard.

“she doesn’t have a visitor badge. she just walked through,” he groaned.

“i said leave it dude,” morgan said. the guard walked off, shaking his head.

“mum i need my jumper!” y/n whined.

“you’re meant to be at school!” jj argued.

“mum!” she groaned. she walked around her, beginning to search through jj’s stuff. throwing the things out of her go bag onto the floor.

“baby no,” she heard JJ say and she sighed loudly.

“i need it, why do you not understand?” she cried, shouting at her mum.

“i know, i know,” jj whispered, putting her hands on her daughters arms. “but it’s not here.”

“then where is it? you’ve got to help me find it! they said you had it!” she pushed her mums chest and jj sighed. this jumper was y/n’s comfort jumper. she went no where without it, it was old, tattered and hardly ever got washed but now she couldn’t find it and the world was upside down. jj knew how important the jumper was to her daughter.

“what’s going on?” the team heard emily say from the stairs. y/n turned around from jj’s arms and ran to her auntie emily.

“have you seen my jumper?” she asked, practically begging.

“your jumper? no baby, when did you last see it?”

“at school but- but -but the girls they took it and said mum has it,” she cried out, looking at the team frantically. jj sighed then, taking out her phone and ringing the school. emily guided y/n into her office.

“sit down,” she told jj’s daughter.

“no, i nee- they said mum has it! why is she lying to me?” she cried, rubbing at her head. emily sighed and walked over to the teenage girl.

“was it the same girls? hannah and freya?” emily asked, crouching down in front of her. y/n just nodded, feeling herself growing more and more panicked. these girls regularly bullied y/n, for being different. they’d obviously taken her jumper and told her that her mum had it - causing her to leave school and head here.

“listen sweetheart,” emily muttered, running her fingers down y/n’s arms. she knew it soothed her, she’d been doing it since she was young. “your mums talking to school now. she’ll find your jumper.”

“i need it now,” she began to sob and emily could only comfort her in the way she knew how. arm tickles and forehead kisses.

“put someone on the damn phone who knows what i’m talking about!” jj shouted down the phone. she’s excused herself to her old office, trusting that emily had her daughter safe.

“i am sick to death of this happening,” jj said. “did you even know she’d left? what if something had happened to her?” she was getting angrier and angrier. “no! she’s autistic, not special. why can’t you see that! you’re allowing them girls to ridicule her and bully her day in and day out and you’re doing nothing about it.”

“i don’t care if you understand because you clearly don’t. i am coming to get my daughters jumper and to clean out her locker because there is no way i am sending her back into your care. authorities will be hearing about this,” jj told them. she slammed the phone down and took a few deep breaths.

for the last 16 years y/n had always been excluded, different- unique. she had a mind of a genius, she didn’t talk a lot and she took things very literally. she wasn’t one for physical contact unless it was auntie emily and she needed her routine. but since starting this school, jj had only grown more and more furious with their handling of her. she was a vulnerable child, she did need that extra care sometimes but jj felt like her daughter was being thrown under the bus constantly.

walking out of class, was her fault. lashing out at other kids was her fault. breaking down and going non verbal was her fault. the way she handled anything wasn’t understood and now the school had let the bullies walk all over her again.

jj entered emily’s office to the sweetest sight. emily sat on the sofa, cradling y/n in her arms. her legs were over emily’s thigh and her head in the crook of emily’s neck. emily continued tickling up her arm, singing softly her own song.

“i’m going to get her jumper, is she okay here?” jj asked, feeling so, so grateful for emily.

“she’s okay yeah, you go beat to them kids,” emily sniggered. jj rolled her eyes and walked out, shutting the door quietly behind her.

[bangchansgirlsblog]

My Biggest Regret

Part two:

**

Fate was on her and Chan's side. She knew it. She felt it and she could taste it. Even if It had been 3 years…

3 years.

The calls were now non existent and the texts were now disappearing. She knew the only way to know if he was okay was through social media so she kept checking all her socials to watch over him.

She had accepted the fact that he was now a busy idol. He was making hits and creating a big name for himself and his group. He was now basically non existent in her life.

Don’t get it wrong, he would try to call her here and there but it was so awkward that she just stopped picking up once and for all. He also saw that they had nothing in common at all so he also stopped calling.

They had grown apart. It was painful but that was reality.

She still visited his parents and his sister once in a while just to check in but it would end up with a lecture about how they are very upset with Chan for not keeping in contact with her but they would eventually get over it by the end of the evening after some tea and cookies.

Hannah on the other hand was so upset and angry at her brother but Y/n couldn't blame her. He had missed every important mile stone in her life (not intentionally Ofcourse) but still how "dare" he be so busy and lie.

Y/n knew she had to be her rock though. She knew she had to step in and take care of her.

"My love, you'll get wrinkles on your forehead if you continue to be upset," Y/n tells the young girl as she slowly helps apply Hannah’s makeup for prom. They were sat in her room on vanity.

"I don't get it! How are you so okay with what he has done?" The younger one whines like usual. To be honest Y/n was a mess inside. She was constantly sad and even though it had been years she still felt really sad and upset. She had lost her bestfriend and she didn't know if she would even be around when he came back.

"Hannah, you should be proud of him and not upset. Look at how much he has accomplished. He has grown so much and made a big difference in the industry. We should just be patient with him and we shall all be back together again." Y/n smiles as she finishes the makeup look. "There you go, so beautiful!" She claps and admires the work she had created.

“Let me see! Let me see!” She squeals and turns. Hannah gasps when she looks into the mirror shocked.

"I love it so much Y/n! Thank you!" She squeals again and held out her phone to take a few selfies.

Y/n loved seeing her happy. She was like her little sister and she since she didn't have siblings of her own she put her everything into Hannah.

"Here let me take a picture! Turn around and say Cheese!" Y/n takes a short video of her beautiful dress and posts it on her instagram. She had a few followers not as many as a normal teenager would but she was satisfied with her small account. It consisted of people she loved only.

"Oh I think my dates here!" Hannah smiles and grabs her purse then Y/n's hand. They all walk down stairs where Chan's father had the camera out.

"Oh my girl! You look beautiful!" Her mum coos and stared at the both of them. Hannah and her date took a few pictures and finally left, Ofcourse after Y/n gave them a long lecture about protection and drinking which left Hannah completely embarrassed.

"Thank you for helping her Y/n, you really have her wrapped around your finger," Chan's mum says while pouring some water for Y/n in a cup.

They were sat on the dining table having some dinner since his dad had insisted.

"Oh it's no worries! I love her like my own little sister," she gives them a genuine smile before grabbing her chopsticks and starting on the meal.

"How is medications going? What has the doctor said?" Chan's dad asks turning the atmosphere all so serious. He always had a soft spot for Y/n ever since his bestfriend (Y/N's mum) pushed her out, he had admired her, loved her and cared for her like his own. He was the only father figure in her life.

"It's okay, just trying to push through everyday. The doctor says that the tumor has decreased but he isn’t sure by how much or if it'll stay like that," Y/n shrugs and continued to eat her ramen. This topic wasn't new for her. She was used to the question. She was used to the usual nagging from both Chan's parents and her mum reminding her to take her medication or to go for her appointments.

She was now used to it all.

"That's good sweetheart. Keep taking care of yourself please. I don’t want you to end up in the hospital again.” He tells her softly almost as if he was scared to bruise her with his words.

“I will uncle-“

“Speaking of that,” Chan’s mum interrupted the small conversation. He groans knowing exactly where the conversation was going and he automatically felt bad for Y/n because they had been through this for the 50th time, “Did you ever tell Chan about it? He keeps asking me about you Y/n and I want you guys to get to talking again. I feel bad for lying to him.”

Y/n let a sigh out. She hadn’t told Chan about when her condition got worse. She hadn’t even told him about her ending up in the hospital for months and she wanted to keep it that way.

“No I haven’t told him yet, I just don’t want to put a lot on his plate plus I’m fine now and out of bed rest,”

“I know sweetheart but-“

“My love! Don’t get involved in their love life, I keep telling you this,” Chan’s dad interrupts his mum. Y/n had always admired and craved their love. They were such a cute couple, such a happy couple.

“I know darling but if they won’t even talk, how will they get married?!” She exclaims causing Y/n to choke. Married?

“Look at what you’re saying now! You’ll chase the poor girl away. Let them be please!”

“Fine, Fine. More dumplings?" She asks dumping a few more dumplings on Y/n’s plate.

**

[pedropascallme]

u said u are always looking for a reason to write jim smut so let me deliver bc i’m actually so fixated on this movie it’s CRAZYYY!!!!! anyways i would like like a build up to a confession kind of? like there’s so so much romantic and sexual tension and it just like breaks and yeah😭😭 idk if that makes any sense but yk!! ok thank u so much!!! you are amazing dude

In Our Perfect Present Tense

Pairing: Jim x f!Reader

Summary: "And where had this sudden, deep infatuation with Jim come into play? Was it sudden?"

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v, fingering, praise kink, Jim can be soft!dom if I say so!! Allusions to canon typical violence, I know Cillian Murphy is 5'8 but Jim is 6'2 in my mind, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: Max you make my heart go badumbadumbadumbadum (good) I hope this is to your liking <3 Also continuing to cross tag my Cillian fics because my Jim fics rarely gain traction so we are trying some METHODS.

The cottage was so quiet.

You could hear Hannah shift under the blanket and sigh in her sleep, and though seeing her so peaceful made you feel a pang of protectiveness, watching her chest rise and fall, your mind was elsewhere. Maybe you were still in London, or Manchester, or anywhere else; maybe this was all fake and you had died somewhere along the way. Was this Heaven? Or maybe Purgatory, given that nothing seemed to have changed much.

And where had this sudden, deep infatuation with Jim come into play? Was it sudden?

No. You closed your eyes and his face flashed across your mind; eyes you wanted to drown in and cheekbones sharp enough to make you bleed. Maybe that’s why you kept him around in the first place. You’d never had to help him, save him from the congregation that chased him down the road; never had to take him to your hideout in the underground. At first, (and you knew this for a fact, at least) it was simply because Mark…bored you. He was cheesy and had a chip on his shoulder, and you didn’t like how he looked at you—didn’t like that he seemed to expect you to fall in love with him. Jim made a good buffer. And it helped that he had such kind eyes that seemed to be full of fear and morbid curiosity, and that he was, in every sense of the word, pretty.

You hadn’t been sad when you’d had to kill Mark.

But once you had made it clear to Jim that you didn’t want to fall in love with him, either, your snap judgement fogging your mind, you thought that was the end of it. Thought maybe he would go out like Mark did. And was it really your fault that Jim assumed you didn’t care about him? You didn’t. You wanted him to think you didn’t. Wanted him to think that he was essentially on his own when you ran up the stairs to the top floor, with his head splitting in pain and your legs going as fast as they could carry you. But when he came up to you that night to apologize to you, thank you, hold out an olive branch, it was then you realized that you felt isolated. And, yes, doomsday will do that to you, but it wasn’t just that. It was that even when humanity was rearing its ugly head, Jim still had the time to recognize and respect you; he was willing to put you first in a way nobody would’ve done even if their life didn’t depend on it.

You felt so guilty that night, touching yourself under the covers with everybody else just a few rooms over.

It was one thing to be wandering around the desolate city with him as your only company, but once you had Frank and Hannah (and a car) you felt like maybe, just maybe, there was hope. There was a glimmer of something behind Jim’s eye when you were eating out on the countryside after ransacking the supermarket—and it could’ve been the way the light was hitting him, or the way he laughed with Hannah, or the fact that he was eating fruit for the first time in weeks, but you thought maybe it had something to do with you. Maybe he had figured out that you did care. About him and about the state of things and about what the hell you would do if there was any sort of relief from running away. You thought about kissing him then, and he might’ve, too. There was a certain tenderness in the way he curled up next to you that night, under the stars.

In another life, he might’ve done it for reasons other than keeping warm.

And then, of course, that all came crashing down. It had been too good to be true, and in retrospect you hated yourself for allowing any harm to come to your small posse. You got out alive, but the hope you had was minimal, at best. Was alive good enough anymore? Was alive good enough when you’d fought off every evil you could think of in the span of 12 hours?

No. It wasn’t until Jim turned around, soaking wet and bleeding, that you realized that being alive was no good if he wasn’t there with you to enjoy it. You’d wanted to wrap yourself in him, to feel the sweat and blood caked on his chest and kiss him until you lost consciousness. Instead, you crumpled to the floor in the red dress that had been forced upon you, hugging yourself to his shins and begging him to tell you he was ok. It was mortifying, only made slightly more bearable when Hannah lobbed a bottle over his head. At least you knew there was still humor to be found in the worst of situations.

Shortly thereafter, when Jim got shot, you were certain that it was all over; you might as well follow him out. Maybe you would’ve if it hadn’t been for Hannah crying silently next to you as she floored the gas and begged you to stay. To do something. For once you felt like you had people worth fighting for other than yourself. It made you dizzy.

Which brought you back to the present.

There were two rooms in the cottage; both were damp and smelled like the lint from a dryer, but having a bed was enough. You had discussed the sleeping situation the night of your arrival, and there had only been some mild bickering.

“I’ll sleep on the floor. S’ok.” Jim remained gentlemanly throughout, but it was apparent, to you, at least, that the person with the bullet hole through their stomach should be able to sleep comfortably.  

“Hannah and I will take one, you’ll take the other.” You were blunt, dancing around the subject of who would end up sharing by deciding then and there to divide it based on sex.

“Wha—” Hannah began to protest before deciding to shut her mouth.

“It’s really not that big a deal,” Jim stood his ground, “I’ll find something to rest on.”

“Absolutely not.” And that’s where you ended it. Saving face, dismissing any deeper urges, leaving no time for Hannah or Jim to propose a different arrangement.  

But now that you were somewhat settled, it felt wrong to be in this room. The wallpaper was a reflective pink, and it felt too bright even in the pitch-black night. You couldn’t get comfortable, and all you could do was mull over every past interaction you’d had with Jim. Every interaction, and the way his mouth moved when he spoke, and the way he smiled at you, and the way he had quite literally killed for you—nearly been killed for you.

You felt hot. Nauseous, even, to the point where you felt that you had to move around or take a walk or do anything to feel more at ease. But it just so happened that you felt the most at ease around Jim.

You tiptoed across the floor and into the hallway. You almost didn’t bother knocking on the door, but felt that you at least owed him that decency.

“C’m’in.”

You peered into the room, allowing yourself a small view of Jim’s shirtless figure splayed out on the bed. You smiled, feeling shy out of nowhere.

“Just wanted to check on you.” You excused yourself, not wanting him to think it any more odd than it already was for you to be in his doorway at midnight. “You feeling ok?”

“Better than ever.” Jim crossed his arms behind his head, sitting up against the pillows. You could see the bandage on his abdomen, and his skin covered in a ray of moonlight.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, patting the mattress to encourage you to sit with him. You closed the door behind you. “Why’re you really up?”

“Honestly?” You paused to build tension, leaning in slightly, “Hannah snores.” Jim chuckled under his breath. “And…and I don’t really feel at home in that room.”

“Would you feel more at home in this one?”

“Maybe…”

“’Cause if you’d like it, you and Hannah could have it. ‘V’always wanted pink wallpaper, anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, “No, that’s—it’s not that.”

“Then…?” Jim tilted his head slightly, and you looked down and away from him, inhaling deeply.

“Can I stay in here tonight? With—with you?” You could feel your pulse in your throat and though he responded almost immediately, you felt as though hours were passing.

“Sure, f’course.” Jim nodded; eyes wide with eager bewilderment. You swing your legs over the mattress, straightening yourself out beside him. You looked up at the ceiling, lying on your back and waiting to fall asleep.

“Closer.” Jim whispered.

“Hm?”

“Y’can come closer. If you want, I mean.”

“Oh…yeah.” You shuffled closer to him. Somehow you ended up spooning, his hand draped hesitantly over your waist. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and his breath blowing against the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Comfortable?” He was still whispering, as if he would wake the crickets if he spoke any louder.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah…” You both fell silent again, and you wondered if he could feel the tension, too, or if it was something you had just made up. You turned over to face him.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke, though his eyes were closed, and you thought maybe he had already fallen asleep.

“For what?” His eyes were still closed when he responded.

“For—you know…” You reached out to graze your fingertips over his bandages, withdrawing it just as quickly when you realized that what you were doing was so forward.

“You didn’t shoot me.”

“I didn’t stop you from getting shot.”

“Not much you could’ve done. Three of us and more of them.” He opened his eyes, “Plus, you drugged Hannah, so just the two of us, really.”

You buried your face into the pillow, “Was trying to help.”

“You did.” Jim reached out to goad you from your hiding spot. “Been nothing but helpful since I met you. Consider this me returning the favor.” You managed to peek an eye out from the pillow to look at him smiling at you. He was so gentle. How could a man who had been comatose while the world was thrown into shambles remain so empathetic?

“Didn’t want you to get hurt.” You mumbled, barely audible when the words came out through the pillow.

“Didn’t want you to get hurt, either. Think I went to all that trouble for myself?”

“No.” You brought your head up to fully look at him.

“Exactly. You would’ve done the same for me.”

“You say that with so much confidence.”

“Cause it’s true. Cocky, but it’s true.”

“It is.”

“True?”

“Cocky,” you smiled when he feigned defeat, “but also true.” You quieted again, keeping eye contact with one another. Jim’s smile faded slightly.

“Why did you help me?” He asked.

“Hm?”

“In the first place, by the gas station—why did you help me?”

You didn’t know how to answer. “I needed the company.”

“You had company.”

“I needed company I would enjoy.”

“What if I wasn’t enjoyable?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I was willing to take that risk.” You raised an eyebrow back at him, mocking his curiosity and his pushback. “And…I mean, plus, you were…I d’know. Tragic. And pretty.”

“Pretty?” His other eyebrow shot up.

“And tragic.” You giggled. “It’s not like I saw you tearing down the street screaming and thought that you only deserved help ‘cause you were good looking, it was just—it’s why I kept you around.” You rolled your eyes, trying to stop yourself from sounding too sincere, unsure if Jim was willing to recognize the attraction you had toward him. Unsure of whether or not you were willing to admit it right here, right now.

“You liked me.” Jim teased.

“I like you,” you clarified, “Present tense.” You averted your eyes from his gaze, opting instead to look down at his wound once more. He gawked at you, grinning. Placing a hand on your chin, he redirected your gaze to his face.

“How long have you been holding out on me?”

“What?”

“How long’ve you been wanting to say that? Not since day one, hm? Since we went to my parents’ house?”

“Didn’t want to say it,” you huffed, “wanted to help you stay alive.”

“C’mon, all that talk about how you didn’t care if I fell in love with you? Cared more than you let on, I knew it. Could’ve saved us so much time if you just came out with it.”

“Shush.” You tried not to dwell on his words, the realization that, this whole time, he was waiting for you.

“Say it again.” He gleamed, “say it again.”

You took his hand from your face, holding it in your own. “Jim,” you brought his hand to your chest, “I like you.”

You couldn’t take a breath before he was on you. You felt his lips first, plush against your own, and then his hands over your waist and his legs tangling with yours. For someone who had almost bled out less than a week ago, he was shockingly quick on his feet. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the release of weeks’ worth of tension that had been festering inside of you when his tongue slipped between your lips. You moaned, hands grabbing at any part of him you could reach: You felt his chest against your own and ran a trail down his spine with a finger, feeling him shiver at your touch. He ground his hips into you slightly and you reached for his arms, pulling him in as close as you possibly could.

“Knew it.” He whispered when you pulled away for air. “Knew it.” He began sucking on your neck, running his tongue over your pulse point and licking stripes down your throat. You gasped at the feeling, still trying to touch him wherever you could. You found yourself stroking his jawline while he sucked bruises onto your chest, feeling the way his cheeks hollowed when he made an especially strong mark.

“Jim—” You pleaded, trying to touch him, feel him, all around needing him. It was almost all too much.

He returned to eye level. “Mm?” He kissed your neck again, soothing over the fresh hickeys. “Tell me what you need.”

“You—need you.”

“C’mon,” his grin returned, “specifics.”

“Please,” you needed to feel everything, everywhere, “fuck me.”

“God, sounds so pretty coming out of that mouth.” He stood up from the mattress, pulling you up slightly to allow him to disrobe you. It didn’t take much effort; the threadbare clothes you were trying to pass off as pajamas had already practically disintegrated the moment you had put them on. He shucked his bottoms off before retaking his place on top of you in bed.

“So fucking beautiful,” he kissed you again, “so, so pretty. Wanted to make you feel so good f’so long.”

Feeling confident, you cupped his cheek in your palm, “touched myself thinking about this.”

“F—when? Thought about me while you touched yourself? Tell me.” It was a breathless demand, and you could feel his erection throbbing above you.

“The night in the apartment. Came on my fingers, came so hard while I thought of how good you’d fuck me—oh!” Your sexy display was cut short when you felt his fingers brush your clit.

“Yeah? Touched right here and thought of how nice I’d fuck this pussy?” You whimpered at the way he massaged you just right, and his words only added fuel to the fire. “Should’ve just asked me to take care of you, baby, would’ve helped.” God, he was wicked. Such a good man, and so, so wicked for speaking to you like this. You arched your back, and he took the opportunity to slide two fingers into your cunt. “Fuck,” he huffed, delighted by how wet you were for him, and your eyes rolled back, “get yourself this wet? Or is it just me?”

“You, fuck, Jim—it’s you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Cocky bastard.” You managed between whines and gasps.

“You love it.”  He continued to push his fingers in and out of you, and a delightful squelching noise filled the bedroom. “Fucking beautiful.” He kept at it for a while longer, enjoying the noises you made for him and the way your face contorted when he hit an especially sensitive spot. When he pulled his fingers from you, you sighed, feeling the low of being empty, until he brought the wet digits to your mouth and encouraged you to clean them off for him. He let out a low groan when you began sucking, using your tongue to gather your slick off from in between them. “Yeah, good girl.”

He slotted himself between your thighs, and you could feel the drag of his cock over your stomach. You looked down, wrapping a hand around him and ogling him; so long, so beautifully outlined by thick veins. He gently grasped your wrist, pushing your hand back onto the mattress.

“Wanna make this last.” He half-joked. He kept your arm pinned under him, and you could feel his tip exploring your folds, until finally he pushed himself into you. You let out a shaky, breathless moan as he shallowly thrusted into you, working you open to take him as deep as you could. When he bottomed out, he leaned his forehead against yours, and you could feel the stickiness of sex and sweat on your skin.

“Good, yeah?” He was still being smug, though ensuring you were comfortable. You felt devious, rolling your hips against him and grinning in response, earning a choked “fuck” from him. “Dirty fucking girl.” He pulled out almost entirely before thrusting back into you, forcefully enough that you felt your back drag against the bed. Your tits bounced as he rocked his hips into you, and he took the opportunity to grab one in his hand, taking the other in his mouth.

“Jim!” You couldn’t remember your own name, could barely remember who you were or how you got here; all you could think was Jim, Jim, Jim. “Fu—uck, oh my god, Jim!”

“Gonna wake up the whole neighborhood?” He was incapable of being serious even in the most intimate of moments, knowing full well that the people in this house were the only living souls for miles. “Gonna make sure everybody knows who’s fucking you?” Your lips parted, letting out small moans and whimpers of his name with every thrust.

You could feel his fingers on your clit again, and the feeling was electric; maybe it was because you had wanted him for so long, and tried to deny it for almost as long, but you’d never felt this good—never felt this perfectly sated. The way he kneaded your swollen bud while pounding into you hard enough to make the bedframe shake, the way he whispered such filthy things into the skin of your breasts, the way he wanted you too.

“Gonna—Jim, I’m gonna cum!” You tried to move in sync with him, but it was all too much; he was everywhere, and it was going to be your undoing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to fuck you deeper. He leaned over you, tracing his fingers down your cheek before grabbing your face in one hand.

“Cum for me, baby. So good, my perfect girl, cum on my cock like this.” You were as good as gone. You felt your legs tighten around his body at the same time as your cunt clenched around his length. You dug your nails into the skin of his arm, and he growled at the way your body responded to him. “Yeah, like that—just like that, sweetheart.”

You were trembling, dripping down his cock and unsure of how to rationalize this amount of pleasure in the midst of end times. Who cared, anyway? You felt fuzzy, barely registering Jim’s words as his strokes became messier and rushed, catching up to you with his own high.

“Want it inside,” you mumbled through your haze, “please, inside.”

“Can’t fucki—can’t say that baby, can’t risk it.”

“Please…” You knew how stupid it was, knew that he would have to say no, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try.

“When we get out of England—when we get out of England, I’ll fill you up as much as you want. Yeah?” He slammed himself into you, and his words bounced around inside of your head: “When we get out,” “as much as you want.” If you weren’t so spent, you’d cum for him again from that statement alone. “Promise I will, whenever you want it, baby.”

“Mm.” You sighed contentedly at his assurance. “Tummy.”

“Yeah, good girl, gonna paint you with my cum.” He groaned when you reached up to brush your fingers down his happy trail.

“Give it to me. Please, Jim. Needed it f’so long.” Your mouth hung open, sensitive and sore from his cock and his hands, and somehow still so needy for him, desperate to see him to completion. He buried his face in your neck, breathing in your scent and letting your moans fill his ears as his hips stuttered and he pulled out. You felt his knuckles against your stomach as he stroked himself, finally feeling the warmth of his spend land and spread across your abdomen with a long moan of your name. You stayed like that, both of you breathing heavily, Jim lying on top of you. The gluey feeling of his cum on your stomach and your own between your thighs only heightened when he sat up on his elbow, looking down at you to appreciate how pretty you looked after being fucked out, and you could see the strands of cum dripping between your bodies.

“So beautiful.” He kissed you again, and despite the passion from the last kisses still being present, he was significantly gentler with you in your bleary state.

You blinked up at him, smiling through the fog in your brain, and hugging him close to you. “Gonna have to change your bandages. Covered in your own cum.”

“But what a way to go, right?” He laughed, and you buried your face into him further. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “Need a towel?”

“Would it be gross to sleep like this?”

“Gross? No. Uncomfortable? Maybe.”

“I’ll take my chances. Too tired to wash off.”

“As long as you’re alright.” He brushed your hair away from your eyes, maneuvering himself to look down at you while you were pressed to his chest.

“Feel amazing.” You reassured him. “Should’ve said something earlier.”

“No,” Jim pet your hair, smoothing it down over the back of your head, “this was perfect timing.”

“Perfect timing.” You murmured his words back to him in agreement.

[skzdreamz]

Feeling better?

Fluff, smut MDNI!

Pairing: idol!Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: penetration, unprotected sex, petnames, praising, cussing

Word count: 2.0K+

~

you've been a good friend to all the stray kids boys for a long time, but especially Jeongin. he's the reason you got to meet the members and that's why their fans are aware of the good friendship you have with each other. as you spent more time with the whole group you grew closer to Hyunjin and one thing led to another. you are now dating for a little over 7 months and you've never been happier.

the only hard part about dating Hyunjin was his schedule and the fact that Stays don't know about your relationship just yet. the company wanted to keep it a secret, because they just announced their world tour and they were afraid Stays would be disappointed.

yesterday was the last day of their tour and they got some time off. everyone agreed on going on a trip to Jeju after having worked so hard these past couple of months. you really missed having Hyunjin by your side, so when he asked you if you wanted to tag along you almost flew in his arms from excitement.

as you were packing your suitcase you notice Hyunjin walking into the room and kneeling beside you. "hi baby, are you almost done?" he asked as he rubs your back. "yes, I'm just finishing up, I'll come downstairs in a bit" you say.

after a couple more minutes you walk down the stairs all dressed up and with your suitcase in your hand. "y/n give me it, don't carry such heavy things on your own, just ask me okay?", he says as he grabs the suitcase from you and walks down the stairs. you couldn't help but look at his muscular arms as he was holding the suitcase. you got a familiar warm feeling in your stomach. "damn.. I guess I really missed him", you mumble to yourself.

it was a short trip to the airport and an even shorter trip to Jeju. by the time you arrived it was around 11 am. you all decided to go to the beach house first and unpack your stuff before doing anything else.

Chan's sister Hannah was invited as well, because they didn't want you to feel lonely being the only girl. you really enjoy spending time with Hannah, so you were excited to hear she was coming as well. you and Hannah ran to the house together to pick the best rooms. Hannah will be sharing a room with Chan, Felix with Seungmin, Jeongin with Jisung, Minho with Changbin and of course Hyunjin and you will be sharing a room together.

you and Hannah immediately claimed the two rooms with the sea view. as you were enjoying the view Hyunjin crept up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. "so beautiful..." he said as he rested his head on your shoulder. you hum "yes I feel like we all needed this to get away from reality for a moment"

you turn around in his arms so you're now facing him as you speak "I've missed you, you know? I'm happy we finally get to spend some time together". he feels his heart swell with love as he looks at you. he smiles warmly and places a sweet kiss on your lips. "yes, me too baby, me too"

"ehm? are you guys done with being all touchy we want to get some food" Seungmin says as he looks at you with a disgusted face. you giggle as you grab Hyunjin's hand and drag him out of the room with you. "I'm pretty hungry, can't wait to eat some good Jeju food.." Hyunjin says. he leans closer to your ear and whispers "..and you" he moves his head away from you and winks at you. you feel your cheeks getting red as you playfully slap him on the chest.

after a nice walk you finally arrive at the restaurant. you all take a seat and you decide to sit next to Hannah since you haven't seen each other for a very long time. "sooo I heard there's a cocktail bar nearby, wanna grab a drink tonight? we got to have at least one girl night right?" you say as you nudge her with your elbow. "yes! of course, I'll have to borrow one of your dresses though, I didn't plan on going out" she says. you nod in approval as you discuss your plans for the rest of the day.

after eating lunch you get back to the house and change into your bathing suits. the weather is nice so you all decide to go to the beach to relax on your first day there. as you were walking together, Hyunjin comes up to you and intertwines his hand with yours. he gives you a sweet smile as you look up at him.

you arrive at the beach and you immediately go for the water. Felix, Hyunjin and Hannah were right behind you. before you can even dive in the water you feel Hyunjin wrap his arms around you and turning you around so you're facing him. he lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. you take his face in between your hands and give him a quick peck on his nose. "I haven't been able to really kiss you for so long and I only get one on my nose? I won't accept that", he says as starts attacking your face with kisses.

you giggle as you try to grab his face again. you finally manage to stop him and you look him in the eyes. you feel like no one else is there but the two of you. looking into his eyes, you see comfort, love, adoration. you never thought you would feel the kind of love you get from him.

"hmm.. pretty girl, what are you thinking about?" his eyes soften again as you move your hands to the back of his neck and kiss him once more. "I just love you" you hum against his lips.

"I love you more y/n"

"no you don't"

"want me to show you?"

"show me..? how?"

without saying anything he carries you out of the water. as he drops you to your feet he starts grabbing your stuff. "you're done swimming already? wanna play ball with us?", Jisung asks. "no she's not feeling well, so we'll see you later okay?", Hyunjin says as he finishes up grabbing your stuff. Jeongin looked at you guys confused before saying "she looked fine when she got here? do you need something? I can also bring her to the beach house so you-". Hyunjin cuts him off "no I'll bring her, have fun"

he grabs your hand and leads you back to the house. you already know what Hyunjin has in mind and you're glad he's initiating it, because you were too shy to say you've been craving him for these past few weeks. when you arrive at the house, he drops your stuff in the living room and takes you straight to the bedroom.

he immediately starts kissing you. he backs you up against the nearest wall and taps your thigh telling you to jump. you wrap your legs around his waist as he lets his lips travel down your jaw and to your neck. you gasp as he finds your sweet spot just below your ear.

"I've wanted this for so long and seeing you in that bikini made it so hard, you made me so hard" he says as he bucks his hips into yours. the contact of his hard member on your clothed cunt makes you whimper. you try to pull him even closer to you to get some pressure on your aching cunt.

"always so needy for me, hmm? pretty girl needs her boyfriend, hmm?" he says as he leaves more open mouthed kisses on your neck and collarbone. his kisses make you dizzy as you've been craving his lips since the moment you stepped into that car this morning. "can't talk baby? already too fucked out? I haven't even started" he chuckles. he carries you to the bed and lays you down. he hovers over you, lips inches away from yours. you try to catch his lips with yours, but he backs away. "I wanted to make love to you but, since you can't even speak to me, I guess I'll have to fuck your words out of you".

before you can even realize what he said, he kisses you harshly and you kiss him back immediately. his hands travel to your thighs as he gives them a squeeze. he parts his lips from you and removes your dress. "you have no idea how badly I wanted to rip this little bikini off of you" he groans. "well what keeps you from doing that?" you manage to say with a smirk.

as soon as those words left your mouth he discards your bikini and flips you so you're now laying on your stomach. he taps your ass "ass up pretty girl, you're in for a ride". you hear him taking off his swimwear painfully slow. "Hyunjin please, I need you". he rubs the head of his cock through your wet folds and before you can speak he sinks his cock into you without a warning.

"ahhh fuck y/n, you're so wet, always so ready for my cock huh?" he groans. your eyes roll to the back of your head and you struggle to keep your ass in the air. he notices and grabs your hips with his large hands so he's now supporting you. "please move baby". you feel his cock twitch inside your walls as you beg him to move.

he picks up a slow but steady pace, dragging the head of his cock deliciously between your walls. as much as you want to be quiet, you can't control your moans anymore. at the same time, you love to let him know how good he's making you feel. you reach for his hand behind your back to hold onto him as he fucks into you. he notices and slides his cock out of your cunt making you whimper at the loss of contact.

"don't worry baby girl, I'm not going anywhere. lay on your back for me will you?" he says as he guides you onto your back. he hovers over you and you notice his eyes are filled with lust and desire. you grab his face and bring him closer so you can capture his lips with yours. while kissing you, he guides his cock back into you. you gasp as he picks up the speed and he takes that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. your brain can't even comprehend what's going on. everything just feels too good.

"shit Hyun... cum.. please" you plead as you look into his eyes. "I know baby, me too" he reaches between your bodies as his hand finds your clit. he starts rubbing circles on your clit to help you reach your high. his every move makes you see stars and soon enough you feel your orgasm wash over you.

"you're clenching so hard, ahh, I'm cumming" he groans. "yes, inside please, give me everything" you beg as you tug on the hairs in his neck. that sends him over the edge and before you know it a loud moan escapes his lips as he paints your walls white.

he rolls onto his back as he catches his breath. "now that.. that was amazing" he looks to his side and he sees you looking up at the ceiling. you roll on your side and look at him "we should swim more often, don't you think?" you giggle as you stroke his arm. "yeah? you would like that wouldn't you?" he chuckles as he wraps his arms around your waist to bring your body closer to him.

after laying together for a couple minutes he finally gets up from the bed to grab a washcloth for you two. as he closes the door behind him he's greeted by Jeongin. "is she feeling better?"

"yeah, she is feeling much better now" he grins as he walks past the younger one.

~

[thedryswan]

Regency Tracys AU - sneak peek of the gents!

In the darkness of the carriage, Mr John turned to Mr Virgil.

“So? Did you ask her?”

“John! I cannot very well set out my proposal in the middle of a crowded ballroom.”

Sitting in the corner opposite his brother, Captain Tracy turned his face away to conceal the sudden pangs of disappointment. He had hoped to be mistaken but it seemed that, as suspected, his younger brother intended to make an offer to Lady Hannah.

“But she agrees in principle and I have an appointment to call on her tomorrow morning to discuss the finer details.”

“Will it be expensive?”

“Hopefully not too much, but more likely it will be time consuming and something of an annoyance – at least in the immediate term.”

“You’ve done all you can to mitigate the inconvenience, I suppose. I dare say she can’t ask for more.”

The Captain privately acknowledged himself baffled. He had assumed his brother to be a romantic soul, but here he sat talking of his proposed marriage as expensive, time consuming and annoying. On arriving home at Marlborough Square, it was all he could do to bid his brothers a good night and take the stairs two at a time, hurrying to his room and closing the door with a snap before leaning his forehead against the cool wood, fighting against the tears welling up in his eyes. He prepared for bed, lying down and blinking up at the ceiling and trying to convince himself that this was all for the best. He was an officer in the navy, bound to answer the call of his admiral and only death, infirmity or old age could compel him to neglect his duty whereas his younger brothers had no such obligations, they were each of them free to follow the whims of their hearts.

Such sleep as he could glean was not enough for him to rise the following morning adequately rested and he forced himself to adopt at least an external air of bright cheerfulness when he happened upon Mr Virgil in the hall, buttoning up his grey, many caped driving coat and adjusting his mailcoach tie.

“You… you are going, then? To see her ladyship?”

Mr Virgil nodded, pulling his gloves on.

“Do you think she will accept your proposal?”

“I believe so. We touched on it briefly last night and I do not think my designs run counter to her preferences. I have a reasonable hope that it will be to her liking.”

The Captain struggled to look his brother in the eye but extended a hand. “My dear Virgil. May I be the first to offer you my congratulations? I hope and pray that your life together will be blessed and full of joy-”

“‘Our life together?’ What- What reason do you think I have for calling on Lady Hannah?”

“I assume… In the carriage last night you spoke to John of your proposal, so I thought-”

Mr Virgil laughed and clapped his brother on the shoulder. “My proposal for the renovation works on Harringwell Manor!”

“Oh!” the Captain laughed himself with genuine relief, “So, the expense, and it being time consuming-”

“Exactly, the renovations and improvements will not be cheap and it will take time to reorder the house which might be slightly uncomfortable for residents for the duration of the works but that’s all. Wait!” Mr Virgil called as his brother had turned away, attempting to hide his trembling lip. “What proposal did you think I meant? Were you expecting me to offer her my hand?”

“Wha-? No! Of course not!” Captain Tracy protested but if the meaning behind his brother’s lifted eyebrow were correct, he had not succeeded in convincing him.