#world news quiz this week

[spike-and-faye]

[flowersfallingdown]

I have less homework this semester than last semester but gah . It is much longer/harder than last semester

[nouearth]

teach me hard and soft.

pairing. zane phillips x male reader.

part two.

word count. 9.3k.

summary. the constant studying was getting to zane. reader helped his grades up, sure, but was it worth missing out on the parties where he could be dicking down random men and getting black-out drunk? reader's sudden proposition makes him think twice before quitting.

content warning. college!au, jock!zane, top!zane, nerd!reader, virgin!reader, bottom!reader, reader wears glasses, slight dom and sub dynamics, blowjob, dry-humping, rimming, praising, muscle and body worshipping, size difference, breeding, dirty talk, verbal, soft to rough!sex, a build to exposing reader to sexual intimacy!

Tutoring sessions were supposed to bring boredom. Mind-numbing monotony that wore heavy on Zane’s eyelids; weariness that steamrolled his mouth open with a yawn; frustration that made the inside of his head blare as his brain blended your explanations into a pasty mixture of nonsense. One word went in one ear and out the other, and another break would be enforced for the sake of his sanity on the surface. In actuality, Zane knew it was for your own mental soundness.

Yet upon the third meeting of the new week, redoing his calculus homework left him alert and excited—the complete opposite of boredom. It had little to do with the assignment at hand and everything to do with the man who was flipping through Zane’s textbook through brightened and adoring eyes like he was lost in the fantastical world of superheroes fighting for justice from panel to panel. It was you. You and him were polar opposites. Numbers were Zane’s kryptonite, while frankly, they were your super power, and evidently so as you’d complete multiple practice worksheets from Zane’s textbook to pass time. Until Zane was done with his own work.

It had become increasingly difficult to ignore you, especially with the incentive you had offered Zane last week if he completed the extra worksheets you assigned for practice—last week’s quiz was abysmal. Zane couldn’t get it off his mind—the idea of him tutoring you about all of life’s own intimacies. Instantly, an apparition of you; beneath him, over him, kissing, touching, feeling, squeezing, pleading; he snapped back to reality when he felt a warmth over his hand, and another source of heat swarming below his pelvis.

“Done? Looks like you corrected everything.” You peered over the opposite side of the short table, cross-legged on the floor like Zane beneath it.

“Oh—Uh, yeah. I had a little trouble with 4C, but…” Nonetheless, Zane slid the worksheet and a lined paper containing his proof of work towards you.

“Already looks like you’re getting the hand of it.”

It took a lot of willpower to stop himself from smiling when you perked up at the sight of his corrections.

Sunlight squinted through half-turned blinds in your bedroom, the sun bloated and content over the sheets of paper as you scanned them, comparing his answers and work to your own, and surprisingly marked them correct afterwards. Zane had a sigh of relief whenever you did, through briefly, because it would cycle again as you analyzed the next problem. Sometimes a little too long, though. Your brows would scrunch in confusion on how Zane came to that conclusion on a problem, but with a fix of your glasses, you tightened your gaze to analyze his work closer, and you marked it correct. That would repeat until you returned the worksheet with a score and a comment on top.

83%, Nice work! 

It was like you were born to teach. You went over what Zane did correctly, what led to incorrect answers, what was missing in the formula, and what process that could save him the headache of memorizing. Every word came out of you like a story—a purpose to make sense of the world, of the problems you had given him. Your lips were distracting, minted breath tingling the inside of his nose—and god, how he wished he could taste it right now. And so, Zane endured a little longer, opened his ears, and made sure he was attentive, because he certainly wasn’t going to get that reward if he was slacking off. 

“Nice job today! I’ll let you relax since you’ve been working hard. I know you have a match coming up, so…” You flipped through your binder of worksheets, unclasping it with a routine tug, and handed it to Zane. “Just finish problems one to four, is that okay?”

“Yeah. Perfect. Thanks.” Again, it took a lot of willpower for Zane to keep himself from smiling, especially since it seemed like you remembered his upcoming wrestling match. Like clockwork, he failed, blessing you with those pearly whites of his. As according to plan, you couldn’t spare a single second holding his gaze before feeling some type of way. Zane had picked up on your fidgeting—fingers, toes, and all—it was adorable.

Though, what wasn’t adorable was that you seemed to have treated this session like every other session, as if you hadn’t proposed that damn incentive that Zane had been working towards. 

Did (M/N) forget? He couldn’t have, right? He was practically whining his way through when I began teasing him and—

And Zane would’ve been on his way out if he wasn’t so determined and unabashedly brazen.

“I thought I was going to teach you how to kiss.” Zane directly stated. Not as a question, but as a fact. You promised me this. 

You caught your breath before you could choke on the water you were sipping. Instead, your shock was fleeting in the brights of your eyes.

“Oh—I… thought you forgot—“ You stammered through your surprise, and it only made Zane want you even more. Maybe there was regret that you had even proposed the idea, but it seemed like it wasn’t getting in the way of your conscience with how you stumbled to sit on your bed.

Zane followed, a pleased grin growing across his face, almost predator-like, because you were just as eager as he was, and it was exciting to know that he caused you to fidget for another round. “You couldn’t possibly think that I did your worksheets for…” Then, he looked over his shoulder, at the empty bowl on the table. “—a bowl of strawberries, right?”

“Well… strawberries reduce inflammation in the body, and I know you probably get tossed around a lot on the mat—” 

God, his rambles are cute.

“I don’t get tossed around. I do the tossing.” Was that a threat? Zane didn’t mean for it to sound like one. He was merely playing a game of intimidation, to see if you were a man of his word. Even with the fleeting fear that heavenly passed from one eye to the other, whether it was from his taunt or from the evident size difference between you and him as he sat himself next to you, you seemed assured in your decision.

“Sorry, I’ve never been to your matches—“ Instead of acknowledging his presence, you stared at your folded hands, clammy in your lap.

“That’s fine. It gets boring pretty quick. I end up winning them.” Zane edged himself closer to you, in hopes to lift you from the enchantment of your palms.

“Really? Whoa, that’s cool—I would love to see it for myself. I’m sure I won’t get tired of it.”  Knees touching now, and you still won’t look at him. Somehow, concentred even more now, on your fingernails this time. Biting them, pushing your cuticles back. Zane would’ve been annoyed with anybody else, by this inconsiderate lack of attention, but not you. 

Never you.

A drop of silence fell over the both of you. One body hesitated, while the other was quietly pursued. Cicadas buzzed outside your window, passersby laughed in turn from a joke, and multiple vehicles roared, presumably racing each other down the street of your apartment. Zane watched you through all of it; the gentle inflate of your cheeks because you felt hot in the mouth, the bite of your lips because you were about to speak but ultimately rescinded; the curl of your toes into your socks because Zane suddenly put a hand over your lap to tear your gaze back towards him.

When you did—with those quivering eyes—Zane whispered, “Can I?” A permission that lit a twinkle in your pupils, stars mirroring the bright blues of Zane’s eyes. He leaned in because he was immediately pulled in like some kind of spell, a tilt to his head that you naturally countered, and pressed his lips to yours. “Follow my lead.”

Your lips were soft, incredibly supple flesh unfortunately stiffened by fear, an inexperience that Zane would cherish from this moment onward as he adapted and stilled until you’d adjusted. 

“We’ll go slow, okay? Soft. Gentle. All of that. As long as you work with me.” Zane pulled a centimeter or two away from your lips, mumbling while making sure his breath compelled your lips to move. “Your turn. Kiss me. A small peck, can be a smooch too, your choice.”

“Y-Yeah, okay…” You nodded. You turned your body towards him for proper positioning, cross-legged, and Zane followed in turn. Then, you leaned in. A peck to Zane’s lips, your glasses bumped against his nose in the process. A chaste, pure moment of affection that Zane wished could have amounted to more, but he didn’t want to rush you. 

Another one, a smooch like Zane had suggested, and a rather puzzled one at that because Zane was smiling from ear to ear, and you were confused, almost embarrassed as to why. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no… you’re just…” He couldn’t keep himself from laughing. First, at the absurdity of this mutual settlement. Second, at the luck he was given because it had to be you, someone he’d briefly discounted as merely ‘an awkward nerd’ upon first meeting. Lastly, because you were more than ‘an awkward nerd’ to him now. A cute guy, a smart person, an incredibly pure and sweet boy that he would more than love to—

Zane was getting ahead of himself. Just kissing. For now. 

You weren’t going to learn efficiently this way. This step-by-step process only worked on paper, on problems, on math problems, and Zane was done adapting your style of teaching. Zane was a demonstrator, it was how he taught wrestling to the younger kids at his part-time job. And man, were you in need of a good demonstration. 

“—so cute…” With one hand to your cheek, he guided you closer, and pressed his lips to yours again. A bit harder this time, but enough to pull a gasp, a breath, a sound out of you. You parted your lips, and Zane seized the opportunity to claim the soft flesh as his own. He could feel a gentle buzz festering among the joined lips, a spark that compelled you to take its voltage in and pass it off to Zane with a gentle nip. Then, a suck when the bolt of electricity returned back to you tenfold, and your hand—you didn’t know what to do with them, curling them into your shorts for the meantime, but Zane had the experience to know. He held one, squeezed to let you know that you were in good hands, then guided it towards the underside of his jaw, letting you hold him. 

“Hold me if you feel lost.”

“Okay…”

It continued on like this for a while. The passing of electricity, of sparks. Eyes closed, lips held and parted away from one another for a breather, then reunited with a thin string of spit bridging warmth between the two mouths, mutual devotion climbing from one end of spit to the other.

“Just like that…” Zane whispered, encouraged, praised. He was referring to the ease of your tension, seemingly melting away baby the second, but also the sounds coming out of your mouth. What was once desperately vaulted in the back of your throat in fear of sounding too eager, moans had now fallen dramatically off your tongue like they were meant to be, and Zane sucked it right off in fear you’d restrain yourself again.

“Was that okay?” You paused, muttering into his lips. It tickled when Zane chuckled, the soft, thick hair of his mustache aiding the quiver of your lips. 

You pulled back to give him space, to take in the air around you, but Zane had a sudden hold on you, on the back of your neck, gentle but firm, and gazed proudly into your eyes, past the crook of your glasses. He haunted you to the core with that smile of his, stilled your breath for a long moment when he squeezed at your nape, something knowing and mischievous, like you had been branded with a hot iron, his name engraved into the now bruising hold on your flesh, and you knew you couldn’t go back on your word now even if you tired. 

As if you wanted to.

“A natural…” It was distracted, Zane didn’t mean for it to sound half-hearted, but that only meant that he was telling the truth if he dove immediately back to kissing you again, without bothering to fix the slant of your glasses.

You got it. It was as simple as that. The swapping of lips, of saliva, of licks, Zane made it all so easy, and all you had to do was follow his lead. He kissed you until you begged for a break. You kissed him until the rush of blood in your southern region had calmed. 

And it never did, even when he kissed you goodbye. He could spot your erection from a mile away.

It was like this for Zane’s meetings from then on. Tutoring went on as usual. He brought in his worksheets, you lectured him through the problems he’d missed, and you’d check off the problems he’d fixed. After, Zane would have you practice on him, learning how to lead for once.

As Zane returned with better scores, so did you with kissing. You’ve learned that touching was just as important as kissing. Zane liked his neck and chest rubbed, while you liked your nape held, controlled. Eventually, the two tutoring sessions a week doubled and became four, then it became six, until Zane found himself visiting you every day, with fluctuating hours depending on his schedule and yours. Though, you two made sure to free up your time to accommodate. Your lessons remained consistent, but Zane’s, however, had gotten longer. It was his excuse to make up for your inexperience. 

In reality, he really wanted to be your every ‘first’ as selfish as it was.

You never knew there were so many types of kissing. Zane’s lips on your neck were your favorite. The softness of his mouth. The warmth of his tongue. The nuzzle of his mustache. As much as it was a struggle to hide your erection, he knew. You felt comforted by his words that it was only natural and couldn’t be helped. 

And excruciatingly helpless when he confessed, “I’m hard too.”

Zane found you had a surprising knack for french-kissing, and that ultimately became a normalcy between you and him. Once you felt the slip of his tongue exploring your warm mouth, you were a goner. Kissing with just lips didn’t feel right anymore. You needed tongue. You needed his spit covering your tongue. You needed to suck at his own wet flesh. You told him that, through breathless pants, that you needed to explore more of him.

And Zane resonated with an astounding, “Me too,” and left you blue-balled, like always, on the bed.

And like always, you found yourself rubbing to the thought of Zane, wondering if he was doing the same, if he could find a way to during practice.

You would think about the new lessons for the week: kissing positions. It started off simple—making out on the couch, tenderly sharing tongue while you sat on the kitchen countertop. You naturally felt an inclination to touch him, it was the right thing to do, and the longer your hands were on Zane—squeezing his shoulders, caressing those built muscles that had been sculpted through sheer hard work and dedication—all the more ramped up these feelings for him had gotten. 

He preferred you sitting on his lap, the perk in your posture meant that you had too—the warmth of his cupped palms around your ass being a constant reminder. 

You kept it to yourself, but you were at his disposal.

It sounded naive. Wrong. And to be frank, cliché, but it was fluttering to feel so wanted. A nest of honeybees festering in the pit of your stomach, all because Zane’s attention was on you. Praising you for doing so well, when in actuality, you simply allowed him to ravish your neck that day until he was certain that hickies would blossom across the cavas of your neck overnight. Admiring your tainted skin the next day by topping his bruises with another round of painful, but welcomed sucks, because marks had never looked so beautiful on someone. Thrilling because you were a work in progress, and would be labeled as so until Zane had the final say. Whenever that day would come, you dreaded knowing it could end soon.

Zane kept it to himself, but he liked knowing that he’d branded you as his so easily.

It was common for both of you to end your visitations blue-balled—panting into one another’s mouth. Bodies collapsed onto another on the bed at the sound of Zane’s alarm, and every day, you found it increasingly harder to give into surrendering his body for practice. For his friends. For classes. For parties. He was a popular man, and this was the first time you’d cursed him for it, as much as you had been envious of it from the start.

When Zane unwillingly tore himself away from you, he felt his heart jolt with a spark, that same spark that had been passing from lip to lip, and festering in his veins to yours.

You looked at him with such distraught, a silent plea for him to stay. Disappointment laced in those pure pupils, and emphasized when Zane catalogued the mess he’d made on your body. Wet reminders of his presence on your neck cascaded over your collarbone, and down to the middle of your chest. The first few buttons of your shirt had been unbuttoned—the most visible skin you had bared so far, yet Zane had never felt his balls tightened up for such little promiscuity. It was like you were teasing him, pushing him towards the edge to see until when—just when he would crack and take you as he pleased.

That night would be an aide-memoire that you had captivated Zane, just as much as he had a control on you.

“Relax for me,” he whispered into your lips, ignoring a call from his friend with a toss of his phone before using the same hand to push you onto your back.

“Wait, but the party—“ Cold yet warm, that was how it always felt when you were with him. The draft hit your skin when Zane lifted your shirt to smother your stomach in tiny, fleeting kisses. Your goosebumps conflicted whether they should owe their arrival to the drop in temperature, or to Zane’s worship on your body.

“I know. They can wait. You’ll be quick.” Everything was moving at rapid pace. A beast in Zane suddenly unleashed from as he began removing your pants. An impatience you found yourself unsettled by, yet just as equally as desired with the way you followed every one of his command: to spread your legs wider, to keep your shirt on, to lean back on the pillows, braced on your elbows, to look at him, to watch him.

“Quick with what—“ Your mind was cluttered with so many demands, dazed by the sudden chaos of it all. 

He barely gave you a chance to react before pressing his mouth to your hard cock. You instantly puzzled what all of this had amounted to the more he enveloped your length with a sudden gut-punching heat you had never experienced with your entire being. “Zane—“

“Just hold still.” He guided your shudders to his blonde locks, forcing a gratifying grip to his hair before power-washing your cock with his tongue.

Zane thought he heard your moans. Thought he knew them from flesh and bone from the times he’d devour neck and lips like an insatiable scent. But no—these were the sounds he was in desperate search for. Staggered, guttural, straight from the stomach and raw out your throat, as you begged for mercy from the suction of his mouth.

“S-stop, I’m going to c-come in your mouth—“ You desperately pleaded, rock-hard in his mouth and throbbing at the pulse of his tongue. The tip of his muscle flicked endlessly at your slit, beating it with the spit that had been over-compensating for his dry mouth.

“That’s the point.”

You tugged on his hair harder, not away, but towards you. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t muster the strength to watch him, and restrain yourself. That was absolutely impossible with the way Zane’s blue eyes locked with you, determination in his gaze that signaled that this had no longer been a demonstration. Sloppily sucking you off. Beating your wet dick off until it was swollen. “W-wait, Zane, stop—I’m really going to—“

Repeating, cycling, spitting, moaning, praising, urging, kissing, repeating until the thick release of your cum satisfied the grit of his throat. Drinking every ounce of purity out of you because it was a sacred resource. Until you felt completely drained with Zane’s throat at your disposal, the salty taste of your loads nearly costing him his sanity had you not pulled him up to ground him with a kiss.

Or maybe his sanity had already been broken, because he pushed the thick of your seed back into your own mouth when you two connected, and it drew out the most beautiful symphony of sounds from you: the shock of it all, the salty and bitter taste embarrassingly spreading thick over your tongue, and then the exaltation, when Zane sucked it right off of you as a way of saying, ‘I’m yours too.’

No, this had been done out of pure love—one that had been kept in reserve for you, and only you.

It was an open secret to how prone you were to bruising. Zane remembered the shock of returning the next day to an onslaught of hickies on your neck. Marks that you comically hid behind a scarf despite the summer season. Bruises that earned him a knowing side-eye when one of your roommates answered the door to let him in.

“Does it look bad?” You instinctively bared teeth, sucking in a gasp when Zane curiously poked at one bruise to the next.

“Sorry. I got carried away.” He remembered that night vividly—beating off his dick to it after practice. He’d left hickies on many people before. For you, he didn’t know why he felt so fascinated by the wear of your skin—the break of skin solely caused by him.

“Not your fault. Kind of the reason why I never played sports.” Popping open the cap of the soothing cream in your hand, you then began to apply the thick mixture onto your wounds. Well, one of them, before Zane took it out of your hand.

“I’ll do it… Let’s take a break today, yeah? We can cuddle, watch a movie? Anything you want.” Ann apology seeped into the kisses he brought around your neck before applying the cream onto your bruises, finishing what you’ve started.

Not too long after, he’d take you into his arms, your head comforted by his chest, while you went on with your free-time: scrolling through social media, laughing at videos that appeared on your feed with him, chatting, kissing, chatting again.

“Do you date a lot?” You asked one day, knowing the answer without Zane having to speak. Though, you really just wanted to hear it from his mouth, to clarify, instead of assuming everything.

“In high school and first year in college, yeah. But it’s been mostly hookups so far.” Zane found that your hands looked perfect in his: smaller yet equally veiny as he compared, then examined your intricately cut nails. Perfectly trimmed with little whites baring.

“Hm…” You nodded, letting him play with your fingers, stroke your hair, kiss at your neck, until your silence was deafening.

It was like Zane read your mind, because he’d spare you that smile of his—one you had been intimidated earlier on in your life before all of this—and your heart felt like it surged over hurdles during your pursuit to him. He laughed in your neck at the glimpse of your pout, and he would tease you with several pokes to your body, introducing various notes of levity until you broke out into a laugh yourself.

“Before you say it, no—you’re not a plaything.” Zane assured with a kiss to your lips. Whether he was telling the truth or not, you’d rather delay the revelation for a little longer.

You never realized that you and Zane barely did this. Getting to know one another was an interest that had been vaulted from the back of your mind as things were ramping up. There were times where you needed it. A break from everything, even if it meant that you’d fall deeper for him. For Zane, it was always on days where he had too many events to juggle on his plate. Venting to you came first, then you’d pacify his frustration at his friends, at his professor, at his teammates, with a semi-homemade meal, and a movie in bed.

You two would compensate for the lack of knowledge about each other by coincidentally pulling all-nighters. Somewhere among one of those nights, you two found the perfect balance of understanding each other from in and out.

“I came to watch you practice the other day…” His hand was roaming under your shirt, lingering over your stomach, and then up your chest to toy with your nipples. You groaned into his mouth at a tug of one of your nubs, mirroring his actions onto his own body. Though, you were always distracted by how big his chest felt under your palm, preferring to explore the muscular plane.

“What—“ Zane pulled away, breathless and baffled at the admission, because who would want to watch him practice? His previous partners never did that for him. “Why didn’t you say hi?” You looked so delectable under him. Swollen lips, tongue peeking to taste at the lingering residue of spit.

“Wouldn’t I throw you off your game?” You ran your hand over his forearm. Memories of Zane’s sweaty muscles bulging as he pinned a guy down coming to mind, thick veins charging the muscle fibers with a pulse. If those veins had telepathic capabilities, you’d assume the erection in your pants was from their own command.

“Don’t think so. I would’ve introduced you to the team too. They would like you.” Another kiss to your lips before he rolled onto his back, switching positions with you to pull you onto his lap.

“Really? I didn’t think I would have anything in common with them!” You’ve gotten more brazen in your touch. Affectionate. You gave Zane’s shirt three tugs, a magical number to him, and he tossed it off his body and to the corner somewhere, removing the obstacle between your lips and his temple of a body.

“Maybe. Maybe not? I don’t know, some of them are struggling in their classes right now. I mentioned to them that you brought my GPA up, so—fuck…” The steady progression from being anxious to greedy was fascinating in Zane’s eyes. He watched you tongue his pink nipple, assaulting one after the other until either had stiffened, and then his armpit—he never thought you would warm up to practically burying yourself into his hairy musk, licking again, inhaling him with awakening ferocity that Zane wanted to tame. After all, that’s what he’d been doing to you, right? Taming the baby pup.

“I have some free time… Just mention my rates…”

“Yeah—god, you drive me crazy.”

You and Zane explored each other effortlessly—no labels, no commitments, simply out your own free will, and maybe that was the reason why Zane cracked.

There was a droning sound in your room, somewhere in the vent, but you’d never noticed the monotonous buzz before until now.

Zane was angry. You could decipher it from his fist, the cushion of mechanical pencil comforting the clasping grasp. You’ve never seen him angry other than being slightly annoyed or inconvenienced, but the tension in your room weighed heavy enough to pull his gaze anywhere else but towards you. No welcoming kiss, no bantering, no playing footsies under the table—only work.

“Zane, what’s wrong—“ Your voice was gentle. Maybe if he would look up, he would soften at the distraught etched onto your face, fine lines wearing you down with worry, with deep dejection because it wasn’t about second-guessing whether you did something wrong. 

When he reeled his hand back from your touch, you were absolutely positive that it was your fault.

“Are you done grading yet?” His voice was tempered, methodically calm while his gaze never left the screen of his laptop. Scrolling through an endless pit of web pages.

“Yeah…” You pushed the paper towards him, and he glanced at it.

64%. The lowest marks he’d received since you started tutoring him. He was doing so well. Constant 80s. His peak being nearly a perfect mark, and it was all crumbling because of a man.

He sucked in his teeth, a familiar feeling of contention seething in his stomach.

Two men.

It only happened in his matches, and when it did, it signified his victory.

“Hey, what’s—“ Another attempt quickly stolen with a sudden biting kiss. Rough hands roamed around you, a touch that you had already felt nostalgic for upon Zane’s absence the past few days, and then a bite to your neck, a painful mark, an answer as to why you had felt so deprived of energy in addition. “Z-Zane!”

“Nico and Austin,” Zane muttered bitterly into your clavicle. Your shirt was then unbuttoned at flying speed, and his eyes were searching, pupils dilating upon the scan of your skin. Marks of want, of pleasure, faded into your chest and neck like foam to coffee. “—these are theirs, right?!”

“W-what? No! Are you crazy, what?!” You gulped hard, your neck straining as Zane began to match several bruises to his mouth, renewing the plump skin out of spite, out of greed. Traces of his spit matched the outline of your mark to perfection, yet he continued, relishing himself into the warmth of your skin, to the sounds of your panicked moans as you rubbed at his back to pacify his sudden burst of anger. If they hadn’t made a mark on you, then they will soon. You were his territory, his worshipping ground, and he needed evidence that he’d claim you first. “What’s going on…”

“They…” Embarrassment crept his way up to his neck, then his cheeks as Zane settled upon assessing at what he’d done to you. Windswept, that was what he’d described you as you lay breathless beneath him. He’d missed this, yet it was frightening to know that the withdrawal symptoms from not seeing you every day resulted with an uncontrollable need to ruin you. The calm of your breathing consoled him in meantime, and also lowered his blood pressure a few beats. He refused to release his grip around your wrists, but loosened for your comfort, and breathed, “—keep talking about you. It’s been a few weeks since you started tutoring them, right?”

“Yeah—they usually come together… What do you mean they keep talking about me?” On first impression, you’d assume it was about the way you presented yourself. Guarded and reserved to most, but you always made sure you had good intentions, right? That couldn’t be the right assessment, though. That wouldn’t have made Zane riled up, practically eating at your neck from a comment about how you were standoffish.

“Don’t make me say it,” he squeezed past tight lips, forewarning with tense eyes because you were smart. You were supposed to know what he meant by now. 

Clueless.

“It can’t be that bad—“

“They’re animals, (M/N). The way they talk about you like you’re a piece of meat.” He muttered bitterly warm at the underside of your jaw. Yet, a part of you felt like he was kissing to the thought of their ridiculing, whatever they were, and you let him do as he pleased, with restrained silence to hear him, to let him know that you were listening, to let him know that it was getting dangerously hard to focus on his words because—you had no idea when, but his hand had slipped inside of your shorts now, massaging you through your boxers.

He continued after carrying you to the bed, his shorts kicked off to the side, your own after, and pressed himself to you, practically into you as you felt him throb against your erection without missing a beat. “—keep talking about how pretty you’d look sucking them off. How they would like to see you struggle taking their cocks inside of your mouth, both at once. As a reward or something, for doing those damn worksheets.”

“I—“ Your mind felt foggy. All of this information was overwhelming you, plus the friction of your cock against Zane’s much larger erection held your mind hostage, harassing it with violent yet pleasurable rubs as you felt the tip of your cock constantly brush against the scratchy fabric. This was new, and you needed to focus and fixate on Zane’s worries. “Zane…”

“They’d blow their loads inside of your mouth. Over your face. Inside of your ass—“ Zane grunted hard, stroking a hand over your head while rocking into you with his broad body, with a rhythm led by greed and lust. The weight of his motion reflected onto the creaking of the bed springs, and his eyes searched looming repugnance. “—wouldn’t shut up about that ass of yours. How it filled out those shorts of yours so nicely. How they wanted to breed you with their cum, one after another, then another round, and another, until your body had given itself up.” 

None. You were fucking hard, throbbing and solid as he rocked into you, polished his cock with yours, and your eyes—he could see how much you’d want that fantasy to come true.

“Zane, I wouldn’t—“ You whimpered when he pulled your boxers off, freeing your embarrassing boner for him to delight his eyes on. You stripped yourself completely for the second time, top to bottom. It triggered the memory of baring it all for the first time, where you received your first blowjob. You watched in silence, in between hot pants, as Zane stripped his muscular body of his clothing, one by one. Like a performance, a stage that was approaching its curtain call, because you knew Zane only had patience for one more lesson to teach you. Fuck me, please…

“And you know what’s worse? I thought they were just playing around, that typical locker room talk. Told them you were a virgin, never even kissed a boy in your life, and that it would all be too much for you…” You shuddered, feeling the warmth of his eyes analyzing you like a scanner, taking copies of your body and inking it into his mind. The sink of your stomach as Zane caressed your body downwards, the gentle hairs below your belly button, all delectably leading to the unkempt hairs of your pubic area, surrounding the twitch of your cock. 

He could take you right now, but Zane liked playing with his food. Loved seeing the sweat form on your forehead and on your neck; loved watching your chest rise and sink when he wrapped a hot hand around your cock; loved hearing you whimper when his large cock joined his fist, stroking you and him together as one large mass.

“And you could practically see them come alive from that. Drooling, rubbing their dicks through their pants, because all they want to do is break you. Wreck that tight little hole of yours. Make your first time memorable. Two cocks fucking inside of you. Who could say that they got double-penetrated on their first time?” You could feel his heavy balls jump. He wanted to see that too, didn’t he? To see you wrecked like this. After all, he was a saint for holding back for as long as he did. 

“And god—baby, would you call me a monster if I wanted that too? To see you take cock for the very first time? To see you crying out about how it wasn’t going to fit? But you’re a good boy, right? You’d relax for me? And take my cock in? No complaints?” Fingers. You could feel him rubbing at your rim when he brought your legs over his shoulders, one on each side. It was wet with spit, cold against your pucker as his cock jumped at the thought. Your own dick leaking pre-cum in turn.

“N-no—would want you to.” You gulped, a grit in your throat you tried to pacify. Then, a grit in your mind, because you reached over to replace Zane’s hand over your cock and his with your own. God, he was a handful. You could barely wrap around it with your fingers, let alone both of your rubbing cocks. But you tried, and your efforts were met with a shuddering moan from Zane, a shiver rolling up his spine tenfold compared to his hand. “I think I can take it—I’ll be good. I promise—“ 

“You’ll be good? You’re smart, (M/N). There’s no ‘thinking’ when it comes to this. Only an ‘I can’ and an ‘I can’t.’” His blonde locks hovered over his eyes as they casted downwards, addicted to the way your pucker kissed at the pad of his finger. Enamored of your beautiful hand holding his cock and yours as tightly as if your sanity had depended on the two throbbing erections. His hips buckled when you began thumbing at his slit, spreading your pre-cum with his, and that was when he knew he was devoted to pleasing you—when he pushed a lubed finger inside of you without warning, watching the way you struggled to swallow the length of his finger. “Which is it?”

You broke out into a staggered moan. The introduction of his digit collapsing the gears in your mind, having been conquered by nothing but an empire of pure lust, and you resisted, with a tension around the first knuckle.

“I-I can!” A guttural gasp when his finger began maneuvering inside of you, working you open little by little. Past his cuticle, then he would pull out. Then down to the first knuckle, you would then pucker. Then plunged deep to where the webbing of his fingers met, and you would gape. He cycled through with little alternations, fingering you while providing your cock and his the warmth and friction they desperately plead, stroking in sync. 

“You can, what?” Two fingers inside of you, your hole sticky and slick with a generous amount of lube, pistoling past initial limitation. You shut your eyes with strain when Zane pushed a third into your heated hole. He had you holding your legs up now, splayed out with your feet in the air as he flattened himself onto his stomach to watch your hole with an inquisitive, yet lewd mind. Every now and then, he’d pull himself out to taste you, sucking his fingers clean, then endeavoring upon his curiosity with focused licks to your hole, flicking and swirling around your rim, then entering to dig inside of you.

“O-Oh, god—I-I can—“ Your cock throbbed at the sight of his imposing body—flushed with heat and sweat, splotches of red on his body from where you grasped and held onto him previously. You stilled, but your hands moved to tangle within Zane’s full locks, pulling, yanking, tugging, at the magical plowing your hole was taking from his wet tongue. “C-Can take your cock, Zane—“ Upon those final words, he ended his rimming with a loud slurp, then a sudden splat of spit to your hole—perceptive to the lube drying out on your body. 

It was grand. Watching Zane’s broad body crawl back into position, onto his knees, then forward as he lined your smaller body with fleeting kisses. Kisses to the tip of your dripping cock, to your happy trail, to the supple skin of your stomach and chest, to your nipples, to your neck, then finally to your lips, where he spent majority of his delight upon. His questing fingers snuck to tend to his muscular cock, applying a thick amount of lube in midst, a mess on the sheets you’d figure you could later scold him for, and pressed the slick, wet head to your heated rim. You whimpered at the imposing taught, your hole puckering obscenely in apprehension.

“Going to make love to you,” Zane mumbled into the kiss, the other hand fondling your cock to ease the tension in your ass, in your legs, in your back, in the grasp you have on his shoulders. “Gonna make sure you feel full with my cock. Make you think about nothing but my cock. Make you mine with my cock. Make your hole ruined with my cock.”

“Ruin me…” You said with a pleading whine. Your hands caressed his large back, squeezing whatever came to your palm and under your fingertips, and you gazed into Zane’s promising eyes, your own imploring in case he were to turn on his words.

The scent of desire filled the air—one more yearning kiss, to quench the drought of your throat, and Zane loved you like this. Folded in between his embrace, his arms tucked around you as a safety net, rubbing your hole with his cocked, making small circles, your feet over his shoulders—he blessed a kiss on both ankles—quivering, fear and want dancing in the light of your eyes, and he finally pushed, slowly until the head of his cock slotted in.

Your chest lift upon the intrusion as you strain your head forward and groan with distraught. “O-oh, f—“

“Relax… Just relax…” He was barely in, his cock almost slipping out as you sealed yourself shut and kept pushing himself out, but Zane resisted, countering with a persistent push until you’d open yourself up for him again, allowing him to enter you a centimeter more. “You got this…” His words were comforting, the kisses on your chest and neck soothing the burn beneath you, and you loosened bit by bit, though with difficulty. 

“M-mm, u-ugh…” It was lewd, fucking erotic with the whimpers that came out of your mouth, the heat remounting from their bodies reflecting with a fog on your glasses. Zane didn’t want to, but he had to shut you up with another loving kiss. Another peep out of you would’ve unscrewed the armor that had been holding him back from ravishing you completely.

Your scent drifted to Zane, potent and intoxicating, and it was upon impulse when Zane decided that he needed to be selfish, and take you for himself. Your entire groan tingled, the pressure on your opening suddenly too harsh, and your hole protested, the ring of muscle clenching tight when he pushed in more of his cock. “Need you, need you so fucking bad. Need to fuck you. Need to make love to that sweet, tight hole of yours.” Words spilled out of your mouth, his tongue sloppily tasting the corner of your mouth, then chin, and his cock fondled your balls and cock, squeezing, tugging, stroking, because he had to over-compensate. Zane was strong. Determined. And broken. Your body defied any reason to refuse his cock in any longer, opening for him, and inviting hm in upon the force of one long, deep, and guttural thrust.

“That’s it. I know, baby. I know. It hurts. I know… Just… Fuck… Relax for me…” His words were gentle, almost cooing when you instantly caught your breath, and then paused his thrusts with your hands on his toned thighs. Even so, the undeniable proof of your arousal, the throbbing and twitching of your cock, spilling thick strings of sticky pre-cum, was the sole evidence that allowed him to plunge himself deeper inside of you, past your resistance, until his pelvis met your ass. “There we go… Not so bad, right? Fuck, you’re so fucking tight…”

“M-mm, full—“ You felt so full, the discomforting pleasuring hitting you like a lightning bolt when Zane pulled himself completely out to watch your hole deliciously gape, then flushed himself back inside of you with one thrust. Your ass felt like it couldn’t handle any more of Zane’s cock. You clenched tight around his thick girth, feeling the veins throb with imposing lust, feeling his balls jolt and twitch as you squeezed even tighter when he began officially thrusting, whimpering louder.

“So full, right? Your ass taking my cock right now. God, I wish you could see it, baby…” Zane had brought himself up, his posture straightened to feast his eyes upon the sight of the tight ring swallowing his thick cock whole. He was practically salivating, the self-restraint he has had unlocking with every thrust, kissing at your ankles, your feet, as your legs remained hooked over his shoulders. His muscular body—sweating bullets, draining yet feeding him with heat while he flexed his stomach upon moving his hips against you. He made you feel loose and hollow, and your cock agreed with a desperate plea to be touched. Some form of friction around its veins, and you fulfilled it with a wrap of your hand, stroking yourself to the lewd sight before you, to the beastly groans Zane thickened the air with, to the smell of musk and sweat radiating from bonded bonds, to the glorious drilling your hole was enduring. There was wild fury in Zane’s face, of strength and passion, thick veins surging through his arms, biceps, neck, as he held the lower-half of your body higher, and fucked into you. You feared him as you wanted him, taking him like you had promised. 

“Z-Zane! God, you feel so—g-good!” Fierce and untamed, Zane powered into you upon that confession. A slur of sounds you’d make, beautiful in his ears, embarrassing to your own, but Zane made you feel so wanted, so loved, that you didn’t mind baring it all for him. He downed your moans with a kiss, a gulp, a sloppy open-mouthed kiss as he was desperate to hear more of you, licking inside of your mouth while he stretched you open and filled you with his cock. “H-harder—Want your c-cock…” You’d give it to him, delegating those pretty whimpers that he’d happily starve for and feeding it to him tenfold. Whimpers, grunts, and moans ripped out of your mouth while tiny tremors and tingles explode from your overfull guts. You were taking him. Taking his cock. Taking him like a good boy. Wetness trickled out from his pounding, a leak of lube splattering upon the connecting impact of Zane’s hips to your ass.  

“So good. That’s my good boy. Fucking take it. Good boy. Fuck. Take my cock. You like it, don’t you? You love being filled with my thick cock, don’t you? Been thinking about this since we’ve met, haven’t you?” Zane reminded you as your eyes rolled back in their sockets, leaving only the whites of your eyeballs visible. It felt like a punishment for asking him to do all of this with you—this mutual tutoring. But god, if it truly was, you needed to find more ways to make his blood boil. 

“C-close—“ That was how you always jerked your cock off. Rubbing the sloppy, swollen tip of it against the palm of your hand. Rough and smooth, you liked it that way. You would accidentally rub at the most sensitive spot at your cockhead, ramping up closer to your inevitable climax, and that was what you did in this current moment. You rubbed your cock to the heavy weight of Zane’s dick inside of you, the tickle of his mustache on your lip, the crooked, fucked-out position of your glasses, the tantalizing depth his cock had reached inside of you. Zane’s hand skimmed down your chest, stopping over your nipple, where he tugged and pinched with a thumb and a forefinger. Close. You were so fucking close. One hand reached up to Zane to hold his nape and keep him from pulling away from you—because you needed him to watch you, to see you crumbling upon his very eyes. 

“Come… Keep stroking that cock. So close, baby. I’m so fucking close, hm? Look so beautiful—god, I could do this all day. Could spend forever doing this with you. Fucking your ass. Making love to that hole… Making love to you.” Every word that came out of his mouth was a spell that took you higher and higher to your climax. He had his hands around your hips now, his biceps bulging as he powered you down onto his thrusts, and right there—Zane felt it, you felt it. You both hissed when his slick crown dipped to your sealed entrance, your prostate. A little more. Just a little more and—you felt him.

“S-shit, Zane! R-right there—“ You choked out. 

With a subtle angle change of Zane’s hips, you felt his throbbing cock struck your prostate like it was rock, mined it as it you’d been concealing gold and life’s greatest treasure from the world. In a way, you did because you unleashed an unholy moan that sent tremors to the goosebumps on Zane’s body. He’d branded you now, ironing you with his cock, deep plunges deep into your hole, into your prostate. If his hickies was not enough proof of his devotion, you were convinced with the absolute euphoria Zane had sent your body in with the weight of his cock. You thought you knew ecstasy, thought you knew what it was like to be pleasured and fulfilled—but this was an entirely different level. 

“Shit, baby. I need to come inside—“ He was ruined. Zane was fucking ruined. HIs hips on autopilot. Large, rough hands roamed your body, squeezing whatever came into his palm. He helped you in stroking your cock with one hand, the other playing with your nipples, or squeezing your waist, or squeezing your throat. He didn’t know what to do. He was delirious, fucked out of his mind, and all that mattered was that it was with you. 

“P-Please—Come inside me, please—“ You managed to gather yourself and plead with him. As if he would ever deny that opportunity. But you needed Zane to know that you desperately wanted him just as much as he did. You wanted him in there. You wanted his loads desperately sticking inside of you, filling and keeping you warm even if his cock had abandoned your hole.

Your pupils were blown out, Zane’s blue eyes glowing as the size of his shaft stretched your flesh out, stirring the inside of your hole, kissing your prostate with every thrust. He held you close, arms clasped around your neck to fold you toward him. He had you whimpering with overwhelming sensations, the stretch of your legs and back forgiving because Zane was deep inside of you, turning you in and out like he had promised, overpowering any pain in your body while he circled his hips. Upon watching him, you’d never seen someone looked so pleased, so determined, impaling you with his cock over and over, brushing your body with his rough hands, and on the nth stroke of your cock, so relieved as he indulged on your endurance for as long as he could, before spilling his thick load inside of you. Not a second after, you chased after him in pursuit, your cum sprouting from your cock in six shots, Zane doubling that amount in your ass.

You both shared a deep, guttural moan, wallowing in your shared orgasm with a long, gratifying kiss while Zane continued to dump himself inside of you, panting, refusing to catch up on his breath, and stripping you the chance to do the same as he began moving his hips again. Languidly for the rest of time, but you felt his cum pushing deeper into you, warming up your guts with the help of his cum-covered cock. Your body was at his disposal, and he seized the opportunity to remind you that it was no longer your body, but his.

“You okay?” Slowly, he unfolded your body until it was flattened with the weight of his body collapsed on top of yours. You could feel his heartbeat, his muscular chest slick with sweat pressing to yours, slowly but surely coming down from its high. He was unwilling to pull himself out of you, the warmth of your hole around him nearly lulling him to sleep. Exhaustion in his eyes, but he mustered up enough strength to take care of you, stroking your hair back after licking your cum off your body in midst of repositioning.

You kissed him again, wanting to taste yourself off his tongue, and Zane accepted that as an answer, laughing into your mouth. “I’ve taught you well, haven’t I?”

“Couldn’t have asked for a better tutor.” You mumbled sleepily, hiding the blush in your cheeks into his shoulder while fatigue struck the muscles in your body until it begged for a rest. You wrapped your arms around him, embracing his large body into your own. His warm smell, his soothing voice, his adoring touch—you couldn’t fathom going back to a life without Zane in your life, teaching you about anything and everything, just as you did for him. It made your chest swell at the thought, your heart twisting itself until it began to hurt. But Zane kissed you once more, something that felt perpetual, and you’d calm.

“What are you doing for the summer?” He whispered, nuzzling his mustache against your cheek like you liked. He fixed the crook of your glasses with a twist, impressed by how they hadn't fallen off the entire time he was fucking into you.

“Working… Tutoring’s still in session for the summer classes, so I’ll be here.” You nodded, and he hummed in response. There was a brief silence, you’d reckon that could hear him thinking if you had the skills to.

“So… you know how I wanted you to meet the team? Maybe we could do that over the summer. What do you think? Think it’s only right to introduce my boyfriend to my best friends.” Nibbling on your ear now. You squirmed, ticklish as the tiny bristles of his mustache brushed against places that had never been touched. His smile only made it worse, the curve of the hairs grazing over your lobe and the shell of your ear.

“I’m your boyfriend?” It was impossible to stop yourself from smiling from ear to ear. The label made you feel fuzzy and warm on the inside.

“You didn’t think I did this all because I wanted to have sex with you, did you? I mean, it’s been months—“

“No, no—I was just…” You shook your head to shrug off even trying to reason with your confusion. “What about Nico and Austin? They were being kind of—“

Deceitful fingers spidered over the span of your belly. Lower, and lower. A roguish smile slowly formed on his face as he began fondling your sensitive flaccid cock. He then turned to you, gently pressing your nose to his. 

“We can talk about that when the time comes.”

“When the time comes for—“

“You’ll see.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[unconventional-lawnchair]

A request for you!

Is just Remus helpin a newly werewolf infected reader learn how to deal with it (either back in school or as adults) and they have some heart eyes for each other (or are already together with some added anst that Remus feels responsible because she got targeted because of him or he infected her)

Go wild uwu

N/A This is perfection, kinda went the Angsty route, and by now, you know my pureblood obsession. This has become so much more then it originally planned to be LOL - Not proof read

Think like a Lupin

Iris The Goo Goo Dolls

Remus Lupin x Werewolf!Slytherin!Reader

Wc- 11536

Cw; Use of Y/N Sexual themes and actions, Cussing, themes of ptsd aligning with assault, arranged marriages, abusers doing abusing, continuity issues (mostly wolfbane during Remus's school years)

You always used to enjoy your walks. The one time you were allowed peace, away from your rancid family and their overbearing presence. 

They were always simple, slow, and just a lap around your parents' garden. The {L/N} manor was huge, and the property was far bigger. The trail, however, was just around the fountained hedges and back. It was the only path you were allowed to walk without a chaperone, so you relished in it.

It was just around the garden.

It was safe.

It should have been safe.

It was foggy, cold, your limbs buzzing numb and your lips chapped. Your father had just came back from his week-long ministry endeavor, working to ban those infected with Lycanthropy from the more popularized highlands. He had no shame in his views on them, and for the longest time, you believed them too..

You had a lot of regrets like that.

Your father was furious, his bill wasn't passed and he, as usual, had taken it out on your mother the second he entered the threshold of the place you called home. The verbal attack that started was horrendous and you wanted no part in it. So here you were, as far away from home as you could get. 

You wanted to walk for hours, but the trail was only about long enough to allow you to avoid your fathers fury, that was pushing it.

Once you were behind the hedges, and you knew no one was watching, you sat down. Looking up at the full moon you lifted your hand as if you could catch it. 

You didn't feel the eyes on you.

You don't hear the rustling on the outer line of the property. 

Maybe if you did, it would have been different. Maybe if you didn't go out alone, it would have been different. 

Maybe if you didn't go out alone, the imprint of Greyback’s jaws wouldn't be permanently etched into your skin.

~~~

Being a pureblood had never been necessarily difficult when you were younger. Occasionally you weren't allowed to play certain games or be around certain people, but it remained plausible. As you got older, specifically when you got to Hogwarts, you suddenly had weekly letters informing you of their expectations. It was crushing, from your parents expecting updates from the professors, to them giving you a letter with a list of all of the approved students your parents allowed you to associate with. Merlin forbid you make friends with muggleborns and halfbloods. Living with that for six full years was destroying you.

You preferred that, however, when you heard news that after your seventh year you were to be married off. Your parents didn't even permit you to know who it was.

Being left with your thoughts was favorable, knowing once the year was over, you were to be married off and a child wasn't an option, more of an obligation. The idea of bringing a child into a world so cruel, to face the same fates, with the possibility of your inflection? It was keeping you up, despite how you tried to keep the thoughts away.

You were laying in the cott, as Madam Pomfrey tried to quiz you on how all of this happened. She didn't say it, but she had this horrible feeling that it was a certain boy she knew, and the guilt he would feel if he heard of it would destroy him.

You didn't answer, just kept denying it. The scars along your face and chest throbbed, your very skull ached from your first ever transformation. Your parents had made you promise to keep it quiet, not wanting to disgrace their name and ruin your betrothal. No one was to know, especially staff, so you kept your mouth shut. Pomfrey tutted and shook her head before she stood. Giving a startled breath when the doors crashed open. 

Your eyes tightened in pain and you lifted your good hand over your eyes to try and drown out the raising sunlight. 

You groaned and looked up at the doorway. You saw four boys, boys you unfortunately knew very well. The Marauders. If it was to be anyone coming into the hospital wing with no explanation, at this ungodly time of the morning, it would be them. You didn't notice Madam Pomfrey’s familiar and routine movements as she left your side and hurried the boys into the cott next to yours.

You closed your eyes and let out a low sigh as you tried to ignore them. Luckily, the tallest one, Remus, seemed just as over it as you by the way his friends hushed around him.

“I'm fine, guys, you can head off, it will be breakfast soon.”

Remus’s voice sounded strained. Not that you paid particular attention to it before now, you could even hear a bit of crackle in the base of it, clearly over used. You slowly peaked one of your eyes open and spotted Remus’s form sprawled out on the bed just a yard or two away from you. You wondered if she did it on purpose. 

Now, your ideals didn't align with your parents, you had long since grown out of that phase. But that didn't mean you still didn't put up a front to anyone you weren't close to. The Marauders and you didn't really care to involve yourself with each other, the only one you knew vaguely was Sirius, but that was due to your relationship with Regulus. Both of them were dramatic shouts, but Regulus was at least charming about it. You couldn't say you knew Sirius well enough to know it.

Not that it mattered.

His name was nowhere on your parents list.

“Are you sure, moony? We can get you anything you need.” James fretted like the mother hen he was. You rolled your eyes and began to roll over, giving a low hiss of pain as the bandage that littered your skin rubbed against your raw flesh. 

It was then that the boys noticed you. Your back was now to them, and it seemed they took that as a sign to go. You heard the three shuffling away with low whispers of something you couldn't quite catch.

You tried to steady your breathing, as your ears narrowed in on Remus’s breath. Ever since that night, while you were still in denial, you noticed how your eyesight increased tenfold, your hearing was beyond sensitive, and Merlin your nose seemed to find new and powerful scents everywhere. Taking long deep breaths through your nose wasn't helping. 

That was, until you smelt something strong. It wasn't a smell you were able to place, but it was amazing. Calming and numbing, like you could fully unwind and let yourself take the backseat because something was here to protect you. Something was there to stand guard, you didn't have to anymore. You tried to hush this utterly annoying whining in your ears, telling you to go closer to the source, like there were claws wracking against your temple.

You curled up within yourself, holding your head, trying to block out every sound and smell, it was overwhelming. Your body ached, your head throbbed, your nose felt cold and raw with every breath. You wanted to forget tonight, figure out a glamour to cover up your damned scars, and go back to class. But that could all be done tomorrow. Now, you just wanted to sleep.

“Is it loud?” Remus called over to you in a low tone. Still, you flinched at the unwelcome and piercing intrusion it caused. Remus’s voice traveled down your spine and warmed your stomach. Whatever this was, you needed it to stop. You don't even notice the hesitance and slight pain in his voice. 

“What?” You whispered back with narrowed eyes. 

“The voice.” He challenged. Remus Lupin was smarter than most, not that it took too much thought to figure out what was happening. You looked a lot like him, when he was first nursed back to health by Pomfrey.

“I don't have a clue what you mean.” You snapped back before you carefully rolled over to look at him. You hid your wince and grimace perfectly, but you couldn't hold an angry expression with Remus. Especially when his eyes locked with yours. The voice got so much louder, demanding and begging she go to the boy infront of her. You did your best to ignore it, flinching hard, and covering your temple with a huff.

You don't get a chance to notice how Remus seemed to be going through the same. The second he walked through the door, your scent hit his nose and he knew. He knew what you were before he realized who you were. {Y/N} {L/N}. To him, the only thing notable about you outside of your pureblood bordering on royal status was the company you kept. 

You were one of the many who couldn't stand Severus, but you hung around Regulus Black, Evan Rosier, and even Barty Crouch Jr. you seemed to only be friendly with purebloods, but you never went out of your way to pick on anyone else. It was like you lived in your own little world, as far away from ‘tainted blood’ as possible. He only remembered you as the girl who hexed Avery for calling Lily a Mudblood, then receiving a howler from your parents about it the very next day. You avoided anyone who wasn't a pureblood since.

The only exchange he had ever had with you was when Barty had cornered a few first years in the hall, Gryffindors with a loud mouth, having called out Regulus for Slytherin cheating during the game. 

The marauders just so happened to be walking down the hall at the time, and before they could do anything about it, you walked in from the courtyard to the scene. It was almost scary, how you simply calling the boys names retracted them from whatever they planned to do. Well, Barty planned to do, Regulus held his usual look of indifference and likely didn't seem too interested in any outcome.

“Then, what are you in for?” Remus prodded with an amused look. You huffed as his voice became more soothing the more he spoke. You wanted to ignore him, you knew you should. That voice in your head did not like that idea, it seemed. Desperate for any bit of attention Remus would give you, and he seemed willing to hold a conversation. It latched onto that.

“I'm.. sick.” Okay, maybe you weren't a genius, but you certainly weren't that dumb. That damned voice speaking louder then any thought in your head. 

“You're .. sick?” He prodded with a smirk and you bit your cheek.

“Uh huh.” Might as well stick to it.

There was a long pause between you two, you eventually gave a low groan and he smiled. “Well, I usually wouldn't suggest this for just sick girls.” He started and you peaked one of your eyes to glance at him. He was sitting up, back propped up by pillows. The second your eyes met your lungs suddenly refused to work properly, and he seemed to stutter for a moment.

“What?” You whispered.

“Calming drought. And a few drops of deflating drought. I take it before I get,” He gestured to his bandages, much less then yours. “Sick too.”

Your eyes widened at his remark. Eyes trailing down his form a bit, not noticing how it made him squirm. Your jaw went slack for a moment before you corrected yourself. He was a werewolf too? Who else knew? They allowed him at school? Regretting your own stupid excuse now. But you listened to his every word intently. You bit your bottom lip and slowly sighed. “Ah. Well, a little over kill isn't it?”

“Is it?” He chuckled and gestured to your current state. “I also do something to relieve stress, you know, before I get sick.”

You quirked your eyebrow at him and hummed. “Relieve stress?”

“Mhm.. I can give some suggestions, I can help you too, if you need.”

“You forget yourself, Lupin.”

Remus seemed baffled by your response before his jaw went slack. “W-woah, not like that.” He laughed and you couldn't help but smile at it. The crinkle of his tanned skin in the corner of his eyes made your heart throb helplessly against your ribcage. What had gotten into you?

“That's a real shame.” You continued to tease and Remus seemed thrown for a loop, before he quickly caught himself.

“Sorry, princess, I usually like at least one date before I go to such extremes.”

“How very proper of you, I wouldn't of expected it, considering the company you keep.” You smirked and he rolled his eyes playfully.

“I could say the same to you.” He tried to joke, but that remark made you pucker your lips a bit.

“Not exactly my choice.” You mumbled and he slowly frowned. The wolf in him whining helplessly as he seemed to upset you. He used to have it under control, but it seemed the company of other werewolves was weakening his resolve and strengthening Moony’s.

A silence followed, but it wasn't uncomfortable. He actually hadn't felt more at peace in months. You either.

“Wolfsbane.” He remarked and you looked up at him. 

“What?” You whispered and he smiled at you. 

“Wolfsbane. It's a potion to help with our sickness.” He muttered and you clicked your tongue.

“Have you ever used it?”

“Can't afford it.” He remarked quickly and you took a breath in, sharp. Forgetting to be conscious of your privilege.

“Ah… what does it do?” You asked carefully, and the conversation continued like that.

Your conversation faded into nothing but familiarities after a while, from your shared sickness to random facts. Almost like you were old friends catching up with each other, you learned of his parents, his friends, his childhood. It was simple and you were practically strangers, but by the time you had dozed off it felt like you understood a bit more about who Remus Lupin was.

You didn't share much about yourself, you hoped it didn't show just how desperate you were for his voice. You didn't even have time to think of blood status, how your parents would react to you making a friend of a halfblood.

It felt like you had an ally, someone you could lean on. It helped that his presence alone seemed to sooth the manic thoughts in your head.

~~~

It had been days since your encounter with him. You couldn't seem to get that stupid boy out of your head. So what was a good distraction when you couldn't get your thoughts straight? Studying, of course. The only reason you found yourself ducking into the library was Barty wouldn't be caught dead studying, less people think his brains were more than just a Merlin given gift. You found yourself smiling slightly at his utter ridiculous reasonings. Regulus could keep him entertained while you were away, you were sure of it.

You had to be careful with the two, Evan was easy to fool, too focused on trying to be on par with Barty, or too focused on making a name for himself, but the others? You didn't want them to narrow down what was happening to you. You didn't exactly know how they would handle it. Regulus was still young enough his mothers words meant the world to him, and Barty and Evan had expressed interest in more extremes then just arrogance. You chose to ignore those thoughts, because you loved the boys, no matter how foolish they were. You didn't claim to be the bastion of temperance. You didn't have all the answers for them, you certainly didn't have enough experience or evidence to the contrary, you just knew you cared deeply for them, and abandoning them for ideals imposed upon them was never an option in your book. 

Walking into the library, the scent hit your nose like a ton of bricks. That familiar and soothing smell. It was intoxicating, having to catch yourself as your body moved closer without your consent. Your eyes locked with his almost instantly, as if he was looking for you too.

Remus Lupin was with his usual friends, though you noted Lily and Mary were with them as well. It wasn't anything big, as you knew Lily had started dating James Potter after years of embarrassing pining. Though, Mary was sitting awfully close to Remus. The voice in the back of your head did not like that. All of them took a full table for themselves, and as your body had started walking towards them, you suddenly realized you had stopped in the middle of the aisle staring at Remus. And he you.

It took an awkward cough from someone at the table and that seemed to break you and Remus’s staring contest. You looked over at where the noise came from and you saw Sirius Black, giving you the dirtiest look you had ever seen. You give a ‘hmph’ and look away from them, walking right past their table to one of the smaller ones near the window. 

You didn't notice how Remus’s eyes trailed after you, nor did you notice when Sirius gave him a look of confusion, looking for an explanation. Remus, however, simply looked down at his parchment and waved him off.

“What was that about?” Sirius hissed at Remus, that was hard to ignore.

“Nothing.” Remus muttered. Even though his voice was lower than Sirius’s, you heard it more clearly than anyone else’s in the room.

They continued to talk among themselves, and being just a few tables down it was hard to ignore. It was mostly about whatever they were reviewing, it seemed Sirius gave up on trying to pry out Remus’s explanation. Eventually, it went quiet. You gave a sigh of relief, body unwinding. The voice in your head seemed to quiet down a bit, being in close proximity of Remus calmed it down. 

This was a bad idea. 

You tried to focus on your work, you truly did, but writing a 12 inch on the migrating patterns of horned slugs was as boring as it sounded. Could you even call moving from one side of a city to another migration? Sounded like a bit too much credit. Not that you could think of that for too long, soon enough, Remus was invading your mind again. The voice was becoming less and less content with the distance between you two. You rubbed your face and sighed. You have been at this for twenty minutes and you already wanted to go back to your dorm and forget this ever happened.

There was shuffling behind you, and you prayed Remus and his friends were leaving. When you heard books hit the desk next to you, you knew Merlin had a sick sense of humor. 

You turned to look at whoever had the audacity to sit next to you, and your eyes locked with Remus’s. 

“Hey.” He whispered to you and that voice shot down your spine like a bolt of lightning. You turned to look at his friends and saw that all of them seemed to be staring at you two, baffled. You quickly looked away, body stiff as you looked right back down at your parchment. You ignored him for a few moments, before you finally spoke up. 

“Why are you here, Lupin?” You muttered, glancing over at him and noticing with a start that he had been staring at you already. 

“To calm the voice.” He whispered, maintaining a stern and serious eye contact that almost strangled you. When did Remus Lupin get so confident?

You hadn't even noticed how the voice in the back of your head stopped, until it began to send pleasant rumbles threw your entire chest, like a purring cat. Oh, you were done for.

“Y-you forget yourself.” You whispered out in a stammer and he smiled bright at you, denting his cheek with his tongue. “You have that effect on me.”

You scoffed and looked away, covering your cheeks with your wrist and tried to pretend his words didn't rattle you. Cocky little- 

“You can call me Remus.” He whispered to you and you closed your eyes and began to steady your breath. 

“I will do no such thing.”

“Why not?”

“Have you forgotten who you're speaking to, halfblood?” You snapped back at him, turning to face him once more and you flinched at the surprised look on his face. The voice gave you a sharp bout of pain down your neck as if to punish you for hurting him. 

There was a moment of quiet, before he turned to face you fully, both of you having forgotten your audience. He hung his arm around the back of your chair and that did nothing to calm your battering ram heart, as if it was trying to tear away from your chest to Remus. “You know.” He whispered, leaning closer as if he was telling you a secret.

You could have fainted right then and there.

“I don't think you really believe that, do you?” He whispered and you snapped you out of your thoughts. His smell. Please please please, whatever cruel gods were watching stop this torture already. “If you did, you wouldn't have hexed Avery. You wouldn't have talked to me in the hospital wing. And you would have long since hexed me for coming to you.”

“I'm still debating that, Lupin.”

“Remus.”

“Lupin.”

“Moony?” He offered and you looked over at him in utter stupefaction. You narrowed your eyes before one eyebrow arched in questioning.

“Moony?” You muttered, not noticing the shiver that went down his spine at that. “Moony.” He confirmed.

“Sounds ridiculous.” You huffed and he gave a brighter smile this time.

“Sounds amazing when you say it.” He whispered and before you could shoot something back, a voice called out behind you.

“Yo, {Y/N}! The bloody hell have you been!?” 

You didn't know if that voice was a gift or an additional plague from the gods above. You pressed your thumb to your cheek and sighed. Preparing yourself for another shiver of discontent from your wolf, you leaned your head back to glance at Barty, and he was smiling, not for long, when he noticed Lupin with his arm practically around you, leaning into your space. His expression hardened.

“You! Get your damn hands off her!” He shouted to the entire library. You groaned and quickly stood up, Remus’s eyes still on you, as if he could care less about the scene to come. Barty was quick to make his way across the room and began to, and rather forcibly might you add, pack up your things for you. 

“Is he bothering you?” He pried and inserted himself between you two, the growl from Remus was almost missed. You quickly shook your head as he put your book bag over your shoulder. 

Barty huffed at your answer and put his hand around your lower back. “Bold halfblood.” He spat at him and began to escort you out of the library. You quickly paused, looking back at Remus as a realization hit you.

“Lupin.” You called over to him, and your breath got caught up for a moment, noticing he was watching you without ever moving from his seat. 

“Remus.” He whispered back to you and it felt like he whispered that right against your earlobe. You took a sharp breath. 

“Remus.” You whispered back and he sat up straighter. “I-I took your advice.” You whispered out, your hands gripping your book bag harder. You didn't think about why you said that. Maybe you were looking for praise? Merlin, what was wrong with you?

He just smiled at you and toyed with his lip, wetting them. “Good.” He nodded and you took a deep breath, about to say something further before Barty quickly hooked his arm more forcibly around your waist and pulled you away from the library. This would be a long year.

~~~

Weeks later, you were laying down on your bed and rubbing your temple. The green sheets that enveloped you were hardly soothing to your throbbing head. The voice, who you learned from Remus was indeed as you suspected, the wolf, had been furious with you. Between tests and studying, and not to mention Barty’s new found protectiveness over you, you weren't able to see Remus, outside of the stolen glances in the halls.

Barty refused to let you anywhere near the Gryffindor quartet, having told Regulus and Evan's that very night when he walked you all the way back to the Slytherin common rooms. Evan's was appalled, but Regulus seemed more disgusted then anything else.

It was like they formed a schedule to keep you away from any undesirables, every day, from potions to history of magic, they escorted you from class to class, and the voice was growing very impatient with their insistence. Even Regulus involved himself with the two’s foolish plans. 

You loved the boys, but you didn't know how to explain that it physically pained you to be away from him. It was bizarre, you hardly even spared him a glance through the entire school year, he was just James Potter’s friend, someone to avoid. Just another person who didn't match your parents standards and thus, you needed nothing from. Now, it was like the very idea of going back to that was blasphemous. The wolf in the back of your mind howled out in displeasure at your own thoughts. What you would give for everything to be quiet.

As if to mock you, there was a firm knock on your door. You huffed and sat up, only for the door to be thrown open and Barty to let himself in. “Got something for ya! Looks like it's from your parents.” He announced as he plopped the package down, your bed dipped under its weight, and  the sound of glass clinking filling the room. You huffed and stood up, arms crossing as you glared at him. 

“Has waiting for me to open the door ever once crossed your mind?”

“It did, once, it scared me.” 

You scoffed and tried to hide your smile. “I could of been changing!”

“Nothing I wouldn't like to see, dear.” He purred with a wink. You reached back and grabbed a pillow, pelting it at his face and he laughed, throwing his head back. 

“Out! Out of my room!” You shouted, unable to help the giggles that left your lips. Despite the joy, you felt this familiar dread fill your chest. Your voice agreed with it, you didn't want to be alone with anyone. Not right now.

“And if I don't?” He smirked and held the pillow still. You bit your cheek, another horrible attempt to hide your laughter. Trying your best to ignore how a toad made its home in the back of your throat. You felt like you could cry, you didn't know why, Barty had never once made you feel unsafe, and despite his jokes, he respected you more then you figured to be normal considering how purebloods usually were. He was definitely your favorite RavenClaw.

“I'm calling your boyfriend.” You teased and he gave a dramatic gasp, his smile twitching a bit as he noticed your eyes growing glossy.

“Oh no, whatever will I do? It's not like he agrees with me or anything.” He attempted to continue the joke, but when tears actually began to shed, he stopped fighting, letting you shove him to the door. That comment alone seemed to effect you more then you let on. He paused, about to ask you something, before you groaned, managing to get him out the door. 

“Begone!” You shouted and slammed the door in front of his face.

“Hey- Wait-” He called from the other side of the closed door, you could just barely make out Regulus call for Barty to leave you be from the common room.

You pressed your back to the door and tried to calm your breathing. Closing your eyes tight to dispel your tears and gather yourself. Breathing becoming heavier, and slowly sinking against the floor. What was happening? Why were you so panicked? Your wolf paced in the back of your mind, making your breathing harder to steady. You gave a gasp and curled up tighter. Your hands were shaking, your throat was scratchy, and you were sure you would pass out if your hiccups paired with the heavy gasps had anything to say about it.

You wanted to sleep, you wanted it to stop, but you had a feeling you knew exactly how to calm yourself.  

~~~ Remus’s POV ~~~

It was like they were brandishing you like a trophy of some kind. He didn't want to think about it like that, like you were just some prize to be won, but it was getting harder. The looks Barty and Evan would shoot him in the halls while keeping you as far away from him as possible. 

He was dying here, Moony wouldn't just shut up about you, and the boys kept harassing him about you too. Still not over the interaction he had in the library. It got worse when he admitted you were the one who laid next to him in the hospital wing.

“I mean, she's a pureblood, she acts like everyone else doesn't exist, you think she'd give Remus the time of day?” Sirius spoke up, ever the skeptic. He was laying on his back on the floor of the common room, tossing a pair of folded socks above his head. “{L/N}s would eat our poor moony alive.” Sirius smirked and tossed the sock pair at Remus who lifted his hand sharply and caught it without looking.

The taller boy was laying on the couch, sprawled out to try and ease the tension in every limb of his.

Sirius let out a low, impressed whistle. They had also found his new wound up Moony’s reflexes fascinating. Sirius especially.

“Have you seen the way they look at eachother? Like star crossed lovers.” James sighed fondly from where he sat in front of the loveseat, head resting in Lilys lap as she braided bits of his hair. Lily gave a fond eye roll, looking over to Remus. 

“Starcross what now? Honestly, Remus, if you're shagging her you can just say that.” Sirius snickered but quickly his chuckle was caught in his throat when Remus sent him a deadly glare.

Sirius bit his cheek and slowly smirked. Interesting.

“He really does seem fond of her. Infatuation, maybe?” She teased and Remus groaned. “I am right here.” He grumbled and glared over, Lily giggled.

She was the only one he told about what had been happening, so she was surely just taunting him. He rolled his jaw and opened his mouth to speak before there was a soft knock on the portrait. The fat lady’s voice soon came, gasping and scolding whoever was trying to get in. 

“Woah, after curfew?” James muttered, looking to Lily. “As heads, we should probably do some scolding, hm?” He prodded and Lily gave a dramatic hum of thought, pressing her finger to her cheek. “Hmmm…” 

She glanced up at Remus and saw how his body stiffened and he sat up a bit. He was staring at the door like a patient and loyal dog. Her eyebrows raised in amusement before she shook her head. 

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p.’ “We're off.” She cheeked and James gave a chuckle and leaned his head back against her plush thighs with a content hum.

“Sounds good.”

There was another, much less confident knock.

No one moved, Peter looked around the group from his homework before he groaned as all the eyes landed on him, safe for Remus. He stood up and walked over to it. He was gone for a few moments, before he walked back with an amused look, Remus was already getting up.

“Remus your…” Peter trailed off as he watched the taller boy quickly walk past him and out of view of his friends. Lily smirked and James tilted his head curiously at her.

“Remus is getting callers, soon enough, we'll have to set up a dowry.” She hummed in a serious tone, Sirius throwing his hands up. 

“What? I always have callers! What's my dowry?”

“We have three chocolate frogs for whoever will settle down with you.” James remarked and Lily gave a startled laugh, covering her smile as James looked up at her like she was the one to gift him sight.

Sirius pouted.

~~~

You knocked, just once more. You didn't know why you expected them to be up, but the wolf in the back of your head was calming slowly, you had a feeling you knew why. When the door opened, the warm air seemed to pour from the common room, the very air wrapped around you in so much comfort. The smell came with it, and you could have fainted with how loud the voice became. Your hands found purchase on your skirt when you made eye contact with Peter Pettigrew. You both stared at each other bewildered. Right. It wasn't just Remus here. 

Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and lifted the small paper bag in your hand, “I uhm,” You cleared your throat again. “Remus. Something for Remus.”

Peter slowly smirked before he nodded and hurried back into the room. You looked away and began debating with yourself. If you ran back to the dungeons, would he catch you before you got there? Your hands were still unsteady but your breath was finally growing even. What were you even planning? Give him the Wolfsbane and beg him to stay with you a little longer? Because him standing near you was calming? Merlin you should've thought this through. You sounded insane.

Your head snapped up when you heard the portrait open again. You locked eyes with Remus, both a bit too stunned to know what to say. You opened your mouth a few times and began to grow frustrated with yourself as you continued to try, and no sound left. You took an even breath and Remus gave you a small breathtaking smile. This bastard.

“A-actually, this was a mistake, I'll-” Your words were cut short when Remus reached out and grabbed your arm to keep you in place. His hand was much larger than you expected. You turned back to look at him and when your eyes met, your breath was once again snatched from your chest. You let out a whine that was so audible it was humiliating. “R-Remus…” You whispered out his name and that seemed to really ignite something in him.

He tugged softly at your arm to gesture you in. You toyed with your bottom lip before you obeyed him and followed. He lead you into the common room, and you met his friends look of utter bewilderment, and they matched your expression.

Remus ignored them, leading you right up the stairs to his dorm. You heard a wolf whistle from Sirius before the door closed behind you. 

Everything else happened so quickly, but so carefully. He backed you into the door and you stammered out his name. You couldn't think clearly, with how intense your wolf was becoming. Like it was whimpering in excitement. You huffed as Remus gave you a look that sent danger signed flaring in every part of your body but your mind. 

Your left brain was utterly useless around him, you decided.

He caged you in, and leaned his nose against your neck and took in a deep breath, savoring the smell of your shampoo and body wash. He seemed just as dazed as you did. You pressed your legs together, hard, and you squinted at the light above you, allowing him to take you in.

After what felt like hours, he pulled away. You felt so cold, you resisted the urge to pull him back. He leaned down over you, face just a few inches from yours. 

His eyes glanced down at the paper bag in your hand and your mouth dried. “Got something, Princess?”

You closed your eyes tight and lifted the bag. He looked between you and it, not that you noticed. “For you.”

“For me?” He asked in a soft teasing voice. Taking it from your palm and opening the bag. His breath caught in his throat and he snatched it out, holding the blue grey sludge like potion in his hand. “Is.. is this?”

“I-I listened. Like I said, and my parents sent me far more then I would ever use in a school year so.. so I figured it would be a waste.” Your voice grew lower as he gave you a look you couldn't describe. Would you be honest? That you lied to your parents to request double knowing they wouldn't question it? To offer Remus just a bit of relief? Even if it wasn't much? You doubted it. But the way he was looking at you now, it felt like he knew. He set the bag down and stepped closer to you. 

You reached for the door knob but he beat you to it. Leaning down as his lips hovered over yours, you held your breath, your fingers trembling. Slowly, moving to rest on his chest. He smiled, it was so small, so soft. You took a shaky breath and slid your hands from his chest to his shoulders. “Can I?” He whispered and you let out another ungodly sound.

“Yes.” 

When his lips landed on yours, everything else went blank. You reached around him and gripped at the back of his uniform with desperate clawing motions. It was flashes filling your head. Flashes of Remus against your neck, then you on his bed. 

You had no clue what was happening you just knew you'd didn't want it to stop. Ever. When he shifted on top of you, however, you noticed his hesitance.

You were both red, deep with rushing blood. His hands that were once around your waist were now to your wrists. He straddled your hips, but he didn't move beyond that. When did he take his shirt off? When did yours go?

It seemed to hit Remus, how foggy you truly were. He slowed down and let go of you. Carefully,he crawled off and sat down in front of you with a low groan. You slowly and carefully sat up. It was hard, with how little your core seemed to obey you. “R-Remus?” You muttered and he covered his face with his hands.

“This is a bad idea.” He mumbled and you pouted a bit.

“What?”

“You can't think straight. Neither can I.” He whispered. “I won't regret this. But I know you will.” 

You paused for a moment and considered what he said. He was right. If he had continued, you surely would have gone far further then you were willing. You didn't know how many people would of been able to make that call.

You fall on your side on his bed and groaned. It smelt so much like him. Your eyes closed and you buried your face in the pillow. He slowly smirked.

Climbing up onto the bed and wrapping his arm around your middle. You leaned your body fully against his and he sighed. “Is this okay?” He whispered, nose to your neck and voice desperate. You nodded, rolling over to hide your face in his chest. Everything was calm again, for both of you. No voices. No howling or clawing, no thoughts of anyone but who was in front of you. He waved his wand and closed the canopy drapes for privacy. 

You knew you'd feel safe with him.

~~~

You woke up feeling amazing. Too bad the other three were there to greet you two with teasing and vile innuendos you had never heard before. And you were friends with Barty Crouch. You couldn't deny how funny it was, so when Remus apologized you could only laugh.

You and Remus made a habit of it, meeting up together and finding comfort in the calm you brought each other. Only on weekends, as you weren't allowed to go to Hogsmeade on most occasions, so the boys didn't question you when you said you would be keeping yourself busy.

Busy you definitely kept, when they left in the mornings, you made your way to the empty Gryffindor common room, straight to Remus’s room. Thats were you were now. Laying in his bed and fiddling with his hair. He was laying between your bent knees and nuzzling his head into your stomach. You flinched a bit as he rubbed against the mostly healed bite mark. He lifted his head and gave you a concerned look. You bit your cheek and slowly lifted your shirt, showing off the large bit of mangled skin to him again. He had seen it before, several times by now. Usually due to him throwing a shirt of his at you the second you walked threw the door. It was kind of adorable. 

His eyes fully took it in, running his thumb against your jagged and twisted skin, clearly confused. His wound healed when he was young, yours seemed to be getting worse. “My mother healed it the best she could.” You whispered and his face twisted in confusion, eyes meeting yours. You bit your cheek.

“My parents didn't want anyone to know so.. that meant no St Mongos.” You whispered and he seemed surprised, like a deer in headlights. You gave a reassuring smile.

“It's alright, pretty boy.” You cooed and ran your fingers threw his hair and tugged softly at the roots. He gave a low sigh and closed his eyes. 

“There are rules for that, to keep the doctors quiet, you know.” He whispered and you slowly nodded, biting your bottom lip. He peaked one of his eyes open and tugged your lip from between your teeth. “I know.. my parents are pretty paranoid.” You mumbled.

He nodded and slowly got up to his knees, running his free hand along the scar, rolling you over onto your stomach, you obeyed easily. He leaned down and kissed the bottom half of the scar, making you smile into the pillow you were hugging. “Do you…” His voice trailed off and you hid a bit into your pillow. He frowned and crawled up further to kiss the back of your neck. As if to tell you he was there. You were safe. No one would hurt you while he was here. 

“... My father was at the ministry. He uhm..” You felt pathetic, like what happened was something you deserved. You one agreed with your father, so what did that make you? You were just as bad as his mindless arrogance. 

“He was voting on the bill, and donated a hefty share to get.. people like us banned from the highlands.” You whispered and you felt as his lips stilled against your lower neck. Before the kiss slowly deepened, almost bruising. “I-I guess there were people there that didn't like that. Fenrir Greyback followed my dad back home and- I guess it just so happened to be a full moon-” 

Your words were getting caught in your throat. Suddenly it felt like you were being strangled. You quickly sat up and he moved off of you quickly. You turned to face him and gave him a sigh of relief. “S-sorry I- I couldn't see you, I just-”

“Shhh..” Remus tried to calm you. Leaning forward and rubbing your back carefully as he offers you his hand. You grabbed it and used it to yank him against you. You missed the security of being under him. He pressed his nose to your shoulder and you sniffled slightly. 

That night was the closest you felt to Remus. It was a shock to learn his father also earned Greyback’s wrath, in much the same way. 

You didn't want to leave the dorms that night, so, for the second time, you found yourself tangled up with Remus in a much more affectionate way, less intimate and more careful. That's not to say that his lazy open mouthed kisses against your skin were anything but love. And his deep thumb prints against your abdomen where he focused the frustration from your slow and careful kisses were anything but lust. 

You both agreed not to label what you had. It was clear that most of what it was came from the shared experiences, the shared inflection, and of course, the terribly desperate wolves that would rather kill you both then be without the other. 

It was getting harder, however. As the months went on, how you both would focus on each other after every full moon, how being tangled with each other was more gratifying than any prank Remus could ever pull, leaving his boys behind most nights, how you both couldn't seem to get enough of each other.

When Remus became a prefect, your meetings went from every weekend to every other night. You were falling for eachother, hard. You were sure you wouldn't recover from this, but instead of breaking your heart early, you simply caved to his every desire. Every question, every look, every touch was reciprocated. In turn, he caved to his obsession. Letting you consume what little sanity he had left. 

Your friends noticed the change, the marks on your nape and throat, the bruised lips, the skipping breakfast and even dinner at times. 

His friends noticed it too, Sirius seemed all for the idea of 'tainting a pureblood’ and James seemed happy Remus seemed to be love struck. He had spent all of his years at Hogwarts refusing love, but it seemed he fell into this one so fully and so helplessly, he had forgotten who you were.

You did too.

When summer finally came. It was like they were strangers again. You didn't even spare him a glance. Remus was desperate, it was like he was going mad without you. He knew you had called it off. He knew why you did too. He felt cheated, the one time he lets himself fall so fully and she belongs to someone else. You two had talked, you told him the last thing you needed was your parents finding out about you two. That after the last night, there was no ‘us,’ that you two never happened.

Remus was devastated, but kept it to himself. He knew by the look in your eyes that this wasn't the outcome you had hoped for. You both got too distracted with each other, with the fantasy of it all. You two never labeled what you had, so there was nothing to fight for. He wondered if you did that on purpose. 

The next day after your conversation was the last night you snuck off to his dorm. It was mostly you watching him pack, the way his mother had taught him. He was telling you stories of his mother, how strong and resilient she was. How she taught him even the most mundane tasks were best done slowly. He said it in a tone that made you wonder, what exactly he could mean. 

When he was finally done he crawled into bed with you. Once again, you fell asleep in eachothers arms. It was peaceful and content. It brought a smile to your face, trying to ignore the biting pain of knowing this was the last you'd have of Remus Lupin. A strange lecture and a night together.

He had changed so much of who you were, he had taught you so much more than you would've ever known alone. You were grateful life gave you him, even if it was just for a moment.

The morning would come too soon.

~~~

You loaded your things on the train, with no true attachments to anyone you were allowed to see, it was easy to just leave. 

That's what you told yourself, anyway. When you sat down, next to Barty and across from Regulus, you fiddled with your book instead of reading it. Tears gathered in your eyes as Evan and Barty continued to debate who you had been seeing the past few months. 

Regulus seemed not to be entertaining the conversation, focusing more on you as you sniffled. Quickly, you dismissed yourself to the bathroom. Leaving the compartment and ignoring their calls to you. Hurrying past students you didn't know with their varying looks of confusion and concern. You didn't even have time to think before your arm was grabbed. 

Looking back and up you saw Remus. He was guiding you to a storage closet, you both said nothing. 

He pulled you in and closed the door, and you came undone in his arms. You had kept strong about the separation, but it was tearing you apart inside. Remus had taught you to tame the voice in your head, so you knew now your reckless emotions were your own. You clung to him and sobbed, he held you close and you heard his own sniffles into your shoulder. 

You were there for a while, eventually, he used his thumbs to dry your eyes, you looked at him and saw such terrifying love in his eyes. You bit your cheek and shook your head. It wasn't just love. It was desperation. Like he was begging you for an answer you surely couldn't give. You pulled away and his head hung down in defeat. You stared at him. Say it. You thought. Say it and I'm yours, Remus.

You both sat in silence for another minute or two before you sighed. Turning to open the door, still no words passed between you both. 

As you walked out, your head down, you were greeted with a pair of polished black shoes. Your eyes slowly trailed up to meet the eyes of a shocked Regulus Black. His jaw tensed when he saw who was behind you. You hadn't known he followed you. Fuck.

“Regulus, it's-”

“Blood traitor.” He spat the vile insult and you felt like he slapped you. Your breath hitched and you reached forward towards him. He was young, he didn't understand. You knew the only experience he had with this was his cousin and brother both of whom, he confided in you, he felt abandoned him. You didn't know how to explain what had happened. You didn't know what to tell him. You don't know what to say. Your entire body was lit up like a live wire, and Remus spoke in a low tone.

“What was that?” He prickled and you quickly shushed him. Remus seemed startled but didn't say anything. Scoffing as Regulus marched off with another much lower repetition of the insult. You sighed and covered your eyes, feeling even more miserable now. 

Remus reached out to you, wanting to comfort you again. Anything to keep you close to him. “I knew this was a bad idea.” You gave a heart broken whisper and Remus froze up, staring at you with wide eyes. 

He didn't say a word as he walked to your side, moving some of your hair to behind your ear. Muttering a soft goodbye, one he figured would be his last, before he turned and walked away. Back to his compartment. He didn't want to cause any more damage.

You made it back to your compartment, Barty and Evan greeted you with concern and you waved it off. Your eyes on Regulus who was glaring at you. Luckily, the boys were distracted with their hundredth conversation of the night.

You turned to look down at your book once more. It was one Remus had given you, just to borrow, you wondered if he thought it would be an excuse. To see eachother again.

~~~

A week of being home, you were finally slipping back into routine. The first thing you knew you wanted to do was return Remus’s book. Once you did, he had lettered you back almost immediately. You knew you shouldn't, but it was hard when every part of your heart ached just to read his words. You exchanged letters with him several times over the week. With nothing else to do but write and wait for your betrothal announcement, there were days when three letters between you two simply wasn't enough. 

Eventually, over the weekend, you convinced your mother to allow you to go to Hogsmeade. One hour of freedom to finally explore before your marriage, to your surprise, she agreed. You had finally gained ownership over your own vault so she allowed you to roam as long as you returned within the hour.

You did not go to Hogsmeade. You met with Remus, outside the Potters. You knew it was risky, there was a war brooding and you shouldn't be caught dead entertaining him, but you were weak. You would always be weak to him. It was just an hour, the worst mistake you had ever made. It just reinforced what you already knew. You and Remus were dangerous together. You found yourself not caring about who may have been watching. It was just a conversation and a few stray touches, but it ruined you.

Once you made it home, you watched the house elves scatter around, avoiding you. Your parents had sent you up to your room the moment you walked through the doors. They were in the living room with the Blacks, specifically Walburga and Orion. 

You hadn't seen your father so furious before. Once you heard the door open, you watched through your window as the two devilish figures apparated away. You turned to your door as it slammed open. You straightened your back and avoided his eyes. “Father-”

“ ‘In the safety of our nights, I reveled in your presence. Knowing another werewolf was near brought a comforting embrace. And in your exquisite beauty, I found my heart forever captivated. You are captivating.’ “ He announced to the room and your blood ran cold. Your eyes snapped over to the drawer of your desk and realized it was open. Remus’s letters.

You looked to him and saw your mother avoiding your gaze, holding the small stack of parchment and your heart sunk to the floor. 

“Father-”

“Where were you?” He demanded and you took a sharp startled breath.

“Hogsmeade, I asked mother-” 

Before you could finish, he snapped his fingers and the parchment in his hand was lit ablaze. Ashes gathered at his feet and you couldn't help but let out a yelp. Covering your mouth and clenching your chest, watching as the last of Remus was burned in front of you. 

“ ‘Each moment apart feels more arduous than I ever imagined. Could there be a chance, however slight, for our paths to intertwine once more?’ “ Your father spat Remus’s words back to your face and you flinched. “Where were you?” He demanded again.

“I-I went to the Potters. I went to the Potters to meet with Remus Lupin.” You sobbed out and your father gave a condescending laugh.

“You've involved yourself in filth. Do you understand that?!” He snapped at you, snatching the letters from your mother with so much force some of them flew around the room. “You have been a plight on this family since you were born! I should have sooner raised a son! I was this close to being rid of you, now the Blacks won't even take you for their disgrace of a fallen heir!” 

You closed your eyes tight, bowing your head as your mother spoke up. “Where did we go wrong? You were such an obedient girl when you were younger! You used to be such a good girl, {Y/N}.”

“Don't lie to her! I will fix this. I will fix this problem. You want to entangle yourself with filth? I'll show you filth!” Your father boomed. With a wave of his hands every letter ignited. Shriveling them up to nothing but black spots on the carpet. You slowly fell to the floor and hugged yourself. Sobbing out in desperation, you wanted to go back. You wanted everything to stop throbbing and the pain to go away.

You wanted Remus.

~~~ Remus POV ~~~

Two months. Two months and none of his desperate letters got any reply. He wasn't ready for that hour to be his last goodbye. He wasn't ready to be without you yet. He wasn't ready to lose you. 

He thought if he kept pushing it, kept going past the boundaries you set for yourself, you would eventually say you wanted him too. You wanted to be his and he wanted to be yours. Why was that so hard? 

He spent those months moping around in his room. Bless Sirius’s soul for all he put up with. Remus would only get up to write, Sirius had to force the rest out of him. The black haired boy finally managed to drag Remus into the shower, then into the living room. Forcing him to spend time with them. 

“There is a war waging! Stop worrying about that girl and drink for tonight at least.” Sirius shoved a wine glass in his hand and laughed as Remus curled up his nose in disgust. Lily walked over and pulled Remus over to the table, ready to play one of the many random muggle games she brought. Remus felt like he was going through the motions for the most part. Just doing as he was told.

There was a tap on the window, Remus ignored it. Long since learning his lesson about getting his hopes up. He focused on the cards in front of them as Lily dealt them. She had a sneaky hand, notorious for slipping them in her sleeve. His thoughts were only interrupted as Sirius muttered his name. Low and cautious.

He looked behind him and stared at Sirius who was holding up a parchment of paper, he recognized it instantly. {L/N}’s. It wasn't any normal letter. It was more of a card. “What is it?” Remus whispered, dread filling him. He knew what it was. He already knew what it was, but there was this small bit of hope that he was wrong.

Sirius looked to James who was reading it over his shoulder with a grimace. “Uh… are you sure you wanna know?” James asked cautiously, and Sirius winced. 

Eventually Remus stood up and snatched the paper from them. His eyes widened and his heart stopped, slowly muttering the words to himself before Lily cautiously stood up. “What is it?”

“I don't think-” James began, and Sirius watched as Remus read it out, interrupting James.

“We, the noble and long standing house of {L/N} cordially invite you to the engagement party of..” Remus felt his words stop in his throat and Lily looked to James for an answer, he began to stutter out and over himself, before Sirius spoke up this time. 

“{Y/N} {L/N} and Fenrir Greyback.” Sirius whispered and Remus crumbled the letter in his hand. No. This wasn't happening. Remus threw the invitation away and began to pace the living room, hands tangling in his hair as he clung to what little sanity he had left. 

“Okay, well, let's figure this out.” James declared and Remus stopped his pacing and looked over at James with bewildered eyes.

“What?”

“Let's go crash a wedding. Well, a wedding party.” James mused and gestured to the four of them. “When is it?”

“It's tonight. Must of sent the invitation to me as a fuck you.” Remus muttered before he looked across his friends faces, slowly smiling. “You'll do this for me?” He asked softly and Sirius walked up to him, patting his shoulder. “Remus, I'll do anything to stop doing the dishes again.”

Remus gave him a glare as Sirius smiled cheekily up at him, before he turned to James who shrugged. “She makes you happy, man.” He offered before Lily leaned forward with a chime. “And no one deserves to marry Greyback.”

Remus slowly nodded and felt a rush of adrenaline. “Yeah. Yeah, let's do it.” He turned to the three, “What's the plan?”

~~~

“So let me get this straight.” Lily mused as she looked into the passenger hanging mirror, as they drove down the street like muggles. “Greyback turned this girl into a werewolf? And her parents are just going to.. marry her to him?” She scoffed and Remus nodded, clenching his jaw as he slipped his wand in his waistband. 

“That's foul.” Sirius hissed with his head half out the window, smoking a cigarette. Remus once again muttered something in the affirmative. 

James glanced back at Remus from where he was driving. “Okay Moony, you sure this will work? Just going to walk out with her?”

“If she'll have me.” Remus muttered and leaned back fully with a sigh. “Thanks for coming.” He mumbled. 

Sirius nudged him and Remus looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Anything to ruin another pureblood legacy.” 

“I'm starting to think this is more about that than helping me, Sirius.” 

“Can't it be both?”

“Certainly not.”

“I'm sure it can.” Lily mused from the front seat.

“Certainly can.” James remarked and Remus groaned, followed by a fit of giggles.

“I can't believe she likes you guys.” Remus mumbled and Lily gave a startled gasp. “What? Awe, she likes us!?” 

“Oh look, we’re here.” Remus interrupted her and she gasped. “Remus Lupin!” 

“See ya.” He chuckled and climbed out.

The celebration was at the {L/N} manor. As Remus walked up, he was ushered in past the people getting their names checked. Not at all jarring, might you add. 

His coat was taken by a house elf and another handed him a drink. He gave a small thank you and then winced when one looked at him with surprise and the other like he was dirt. His eyes scanned the full room, and they landed on the man of the hour.

He looked as slimy as he remembered. Like a sore thumb in a place like this, it just seemed to push how much of a punishment this must of been. He looked around the manor and noticed you were nowhere to be found. He remembered from your letters, your room was on the first floor. Well, time to go hunting.

~~~

You were in your room, sitting by your vanity and trying to push back the time as much as you could. Your debut was happening in thirty minutes. It was like the clock was taunting you. You sat in silence, with your mother putting the final touches on your makeup. 

“You should have listened to me. You shouldn't have lied.” Your mother spoke in a cruel tone. Tutting out about your features as she did. “This wouldn't be happening. You could of been happy with that Black boy, he is friends with that Lupin kid too, you could of-”

“Could of lied to myself? Become an obedient housewife? Or sneak off with my husband's best friend behind his back?” You snarked in a calm tone and she scoffed. “If that's what you wanted, you could have had it. You are a {L/N}, yes, but you are my daughter. You should have known how to make this work for you. Without making us bring his kind into our family.” 

“Ha! His kind? Mother, I think you've forgotten! I am his kind! And you're about to marry me off to the man who made me one!” You shouted, met with a firm slap across your cheek. You lifted your hand to touch the tender skin as your mother stood up and stomped to the door. “Finish up and be out here in 20 minutes, I will not wait longer than that.”

You were left in your room. It was quiet again. Your head leaned back to stop the tears that threatened to pour. You resisted the urge to cry, straightening up when you heard your door open. Taking a deep breath, figuring it to be your father. “I am still not ready.” You whispered.

“You look bloody magnificent, what else is there to do?” 

That voice. Oh Merlin please. 

You shot to your feet and turned to face him, startled. “R-Remus! What are you doing here?” You asked quickly, walking over to him to yank him fully into the room and close the door. 

He instinctively wrapped his arms around your waist and smiled bright at you. “I've come to get you.” He whispered and you took a deep breath. “Remus, what are you talking about?” You whispered and he gave you a determined look.

“Do you trust me?”

“... yes?” You whispered and he lit up.

“Good enough, do you love me?”

“Remus-”

“Do you?” He pried and leaned closer. You took a deep breath and slowly nodded. “Yes.” 

He gave a large and exaggerated sigh of relief, pulling a giggle from you. “Thank Merlin, I thought this was for nothing.” He whispered and pulled out a box from his coat pocket. Your jaw dropped and you looked around quickly before you rapidly shook your head. “Remus, don't be foolish.”

“The only thing foolish about me is not asking you to stay with me. I know this is fast, but I think I've known for a while.” He declared and opened the box. It was a modest ring, very unlike the large stone on your hand now. 

“Remus-”

“Princess, I know. For once, stop thinking as a {L/N}. Think like a {Y/N}. Better, if I beg enough, would you think like a Lupin?” He begged and you gave a watery laugh. Covering your mouth with your gloved hand and shook your head, this time in amusement as he got down on one knee. He seemed to light up at your delight.

“You look like a fool.” You giggled out and he shook his head.

“Only thing that could possibly make me look like a fool now is if I brought back my mothers ring with no one attached to it, princess.” He implored and you gave another laugh. It sounded like heaven to him. 

“Unless you want me on both knees? I can do that, darling, I can.” He declared and you shook your head. “Remus, get up and put the ring on my damn finger.”

He gave you the most dazzling smile as he stood. Taking your hand and throwing Greyback’s ring across the room. Giving you a goofy look as he slipped his mother’s ring on your finger. You gave him a bright smile and bit your lip. Before grabbing him by his lapels and yanking him down into a kiss. It lasted no longer than a moment before you both pulled away in a fit of giggles. “So, what's your plan to get us out of here?”

“Simple, really.” He mused and scooped up your hand and walked backwards to the door. “We run.”

Your jaw went slack and your eyes widened. “You're mad!”

“Think like a Lupin, darling.” He teased and yanked you out of the room. You have a startled yelp when you came face to face with your mother. Surely there to bring you to your debut. You looked at Remus who bit the corner of his lip and yanked you along.

In another fit of giggled and young foggy foolishness. You both ran. Ran past your mother, who made no move to stop you, past the ballroom, past several guests, when you were finally noticed you ran right past your shouting father and a rather angry looking Greyback.

You ran after Remus, eventually he stopped by a car, and you laughed. “You came in a muggle car!?” You exclaimed in delight and he smiled. “Get in, will ya!?”

You hurried in and bumped into Sirius, looking up at him with wide eyes as Remus closed the door behind them, “Drive!” 

“Congratulations, pretty girl.” Sirius spoke up. “Lovely dress.” 

“Thank you.”

You gave him a bright smile and looked to the front seat, James focusing on the road and Lily looking behind her seat and waving. “Hey! We met once before, nice to meet you officially!” She introduced herself with a calm that was certainly not matching the manic sounds outside the car. “My name is Lily! Lily Evans. Looks like we match.” She mused and flashed her ring. You couldn't stop smiling like an utter fool. “Nice to meet you!”

“This is Sirius Black.” She introduced, and Sirius leaned forward with a nod, you have a brief greeting, before she turned back to the front and put her hand on James’s arm. “This is James Potter, my lovely fiancé.” She chimed as your eyes locked with a stupid love sick looking Remus. 

“Have I mentioned how I love your friends?” You whispered and he leaned forward and took your lips for his own.

Lily was curious when you didn't respond and glanced back, just in time for Sirius to complain. “Merlin, why am I stuck back here with the horny teens!?"

[serejae]

anyone else but you | x.minghao

pairing : idol!minghao x reader

WHAT ! - painting minghaos nails (reader likes doing nails),

warnings: petnames, kisses, established relationship, self indulgent

you sat in the living room practicing on the practice nail hand minghao had bought you when he found you wanted to start doing nails, while spotify was playing in the back. minghao walked out of your guy's shared room noticing you working. he leaned against the wall softly smiling at the sight

there was something so comforting about how your posture was horrible but the small light on the coffee table that was originally supposed to help you see the nails clearer emphasized the features on your face more as well as how your brows furrow and your lips softly pout out as a result of focusing.

feeling a gaze on you, you turn to look and see minghao propped against the wall, when he realizes he got caught he closes his eyes for a second and chuckles in embarrassment, but he knows he could only blame himself due to the fact he didn't try to hide it.

minghao walked over to where you were sitting looking at his nails that you painted for him about a week ago and how some were chipped due to practice for seventeen's upcoming comeback.

he sat in front of you and you noticed his nails. holding his hand to take a closer look, "do you want me to repaint them?" he nodded and smiled at you "thank you"

you slid the practice hand aside and grabbed your acetone removing the old polish. as he looked for inspiration on his phone, a design caught his eye. he saw how it matched the comeback colors as well as the aesthetic, gently sliding the phone toward you

"can you do this one for me please?"

"yeah anything for you"

although you've been in a relationship for a while he couldn't help but smile each time you agreed to do something for him, because out of all people it was for him.

as you started on the base coat, the song had finished and a new song was playing

"oh i love this song" you said excitedly turning the volume up

minghao just sat in front of you as you worked on his nails making them look pretty smiling at you as he listened to you sing the lyrics quietly

"i dont see what anyone can see in anyone else, but youuuuu" you sang and you moved your head from side to side with the beat

laughing slightly at your movements he mirrors them tilting his head with you and synchronizing with you as he hums to the beat

as you worked he broke down each of the lyrics and applied it to your relationship

"i kiss you all starry eyed, my body swinging from side to side"

he wish he could kiss you right now but unfortunately, you were too focused on his nails for him to swoop in and kiss you, but he will swing side to side with you.

"just because we use cheats, doesn't mean were not smart"

smiling at the lyric he remembers when you two were still in high school and that one algebra 2, the class where he met you. oh, he hated that class so much but loved it for bringing him to you. his mind traced back to when you would send him looks as a way to ask for the answer to a question on the quiz, he knew you well enough to read you and then give you the answer with his expressions. and like telekinesis, you nodded like you understood him (you did) and circled the answer on your paper

sure wasnt the most ethical thing to do, but you both survived the horrible math class

"my name is adam and im your biggest fan"

minghao couldnt help but laugh at that lyric, cause it was so him.

his name is minghao and he's your biggest fan

he hates public attention but if he had to shout it to the world, he would. anything you dream or want to do, he will always be your backbone to rely on

you looked up at him laughing and raised your eyebrow

"whats so funny?" you asked

minghao smiled at you and softly pushed back a piece of hair from your face

"nothing, i'm just your biggest fan"

smiling at his words you continue working on his nails

"i'm your biggest fan too"

he's never listened to the song, but he was sure about one thing

he didn't see what anyone else could see but you

[alltheselights]

i still think about this blog post all the time

We don’t really know anything about One Direction. You can look at a hundred thousand pictures of someone and still not understand what it is like to be in the same room as them. You can be in the same room with them, watch them cavort onstage or even interact with them personally, and still know nothing about who they are. You can research meticulously, write a hundred thousand words about the heat rising off their skin and the quickenings of their heart, and still never touch the truth of what they are feeling, what they have felt. We cannot reach their truths if they choose not to tell them to us.

They’ve learned to be guarded, and thank goodness for that, since this world is so hungry for access to them. The demands of celebrity, the difficulty of navigating a public life as well as a private one — it’s enough to warrant another essay altogether. Suffice it to say that when myths are at play, insisting upon truth is dangerous. Believe in them, if you want; believe they’re yours, but don’t believe they’re yours alone, and don’t believe you hold their secrets.

See, at this point, the truth — the capital-T Truth of One Direction — is mostly meaningless. We actually do know One Direction — it’s just that we know them as characters, as archetypes, as the stuff of stories. Lazy journalists like to talk about how rock stars are worshipped like gods but it is true that One Direction form a kind of five-point pantheon, a collection of figures with their own known attributes and traits that come together to be all-powerful. We’d recognize their symbols anywhere, well enough to ace a pop quiz: To whom is the banana sacred? Who is known alternately as the possum and the lion? Which member would you call upon for the lifting of a heavy object? We know that Zayn is as both as beautiful as Aphrodite and as merry as Pan; we understand that Niall is the heart of the band the same way we know Yggdrasil lives at the center of the world. They become stories so easily, cast and recast again into new shapes, fitted against existing stories to gain new perspectives. Their smallest moves become metaphors. Their grandest gestures can be enough to anchor us to a new day.

We’ve already heard this week about how One Direction has a unique capacity to awaken anew a sense of wonder and joy in the universe, to ease pain and to diminish wrongs. When I say One Direction is a myth, what I mean is: One Direction, like any good myth, help us tell stories about ourselves to ourselves. One Direction help us unravel the great mystery and terror of being alive in the universe. One Direction help us make sense of the shapes of things, help us see what a person can be or could be or could embody: luck, strength, charm, joy, grace. We adorn our bodies in honor of them, we paste icons of them on our walls. We whisper and shout and sing their words, in the good times and in the bad ones. They are for us, and we can always rely on their magic. They’ll be gone someday, of course, but that doesn’t mean they will be really gone; Troy fell thousands of years ago and my high school mascot was still the Trojans. One Direction will part ways and pass from this earth, as everything eventually must, but who knows the last time a mother will turn to her daughter and whisper once more the ancient proverb: “They were just normal guys, but terrible, terrible dancers.”

[mysteriesmuse]

It all started with Katsuki being dead-asleep and sprawled out and snoring in a way that most people would deem horrendously uncomfortable, and obnoxiously pleasant. Like an overgrown cat.

He was dead to the world until his phone rang. Biceps twitching and flinging awake in the dark Katsuki’s dark red eyes cut across the grey light of his room to catch into the stark blue phone light that was buzzing like crazy. Hands accidentally fumbling as he grabbed it he squinted with a surprised, “fuck.” Why were you calling him? You were 2 years his senior and the resident babysitter/tutor of his neighborhood back in Musutafu. A smart student and pretty girl: one of the only babysitters his parents ever agreed to come watch him. Mostly because your death glare was one that could really rival his own mothers, but also bc Katsuki harbored a little bit of admiration and a crush on you for some time making him actually behave for you.

And as your name flashes across the screen pressed against his cheek he can only remember sitting at the kitchen counters and sharing orange slices as you quiz him for his practical exams. He hasn’t seen you in years. Your voice flits through same as ever, “Hey Katsuki!” He shuffles and sits up closer. His eyebrows peaked — you sound breathy and stressed. “Hey to you too,” he growls. Another whisky giggle, “I know it’s late. I’m really sorry about that! It’s just — well your mother always tells me to call you if I was ever alone at night and I couldn’t think of who else I trust to call. . .” His damn mother did have a habit of telling resident kids to call him in case they were in dangerous situations. A habit she always kept up since he was a kid; always making him walk with you and the other girls when school clubs let out. And now here he was a fledgling hero and Mitsuki was still telling extras to call him — I guess some things never change. Katsuki could hear the faint music of karaoke bars over the phone. Already getting out of bed and rummaging through his drawers for a pair of sweats and hoodie. “S’ okay. Where’re you at right now?” You huff a little sigh, “I’m out at the bar strip on the west side of the city . . . it’s a little chilly.” Katsuki already has his feet in his slides and is heading out his dorm room, “I can hear your teeth chattering from here.” He huffs, “Now what’s the problem?” “I’m just a little nervous . . .” You admonish finally, “Could you just stay on the phone with me, please Katsuki? It’s really kinda sketchy out here.” He grunts, already stepping out the dormitory door and hitting the streets. “I can do that. How’ve ya been? It’s been awhile.” You huff a little laugh, “College is fine pretty mundane to what you’ve been doing. I’ve seen you on the tv and in the news a lot recently. I’m real proud of you Kit-Kat. Your folks are too.” Katsuki can feel his stupid heart leap at that nickname you gave him.

It’s because he used to give you kit-kats every year on white day — which wasn’t really out of the ordinary since you gave him chocolate on valentines, but you gave chocolates to all the neighborhood kids anyways. And despite his parents teasing and his agony you never seemed to think much of it, ruffled his hair and gave him a cute nickname.

He chest swells with pride nonetheless. A particular school event was coming up and he finds himself mentioning it as he spots your form sitting under the bus stop and shouts into the night instead of the phone. “I’ve got my year-three performance showcase coming up next week. If you wanna come watch I can definitely get you tickets next to my folks.” Your eyes go wide and flit over to his figure in the darkness. And the first thing Katsuki can’t help but think is that you look pretty.

Your arms are crossed over your chest and the black corset top you’re wearing. It makes your waist and broad shoulders pop. And as he gets closers he can see that it’s got the lace closures down the sides with cute little bows that you’ve tied. A pair of cream colored trousers and tall peep-toe heels underneath as you rise to greet him. Phone slack in your hand as you stare at him. The black straps of your top dangling over your smooth collarbone as you inhale, “Kats what are you doing here?” Your head of curled hair — he’s never seen you with curled hair before — tilts like a puppy dog. He shrugs hands in his pockets, “Coulda asked you the same.” He says pointedly, you curl in and flush with embarrassment, “How much have you had?” “Only a few. I’m still sober.” You reply with a shiver as you fall into step beside him, “Not as fun as I thought it was gonna be. My friends are still inside.” At this Katsuki feels himself relax he didn’t think this was really your seen anyway. Especially with those friends he knows you’re referring to: the older kids of the neighborhood. “Yeah the rest of them are real pieces of work, babe.” Babe. Did he just call you babe? Dunce face is rubbing off on him. You notice, glancing to look up at him, but he watches you shake your head a little and dismiss it as quickly. “So what’s this showcase that you mentioned Kit-Kat?” He huffs, taking the side closest to the street, “It’s a promotional showcase for 3rd years. Show the pros what we can do, explain our personal philosophy, our ambitions. It’s like a really big resume preview. It’s real important for getting yourself out there to the agencies although I already have good ties to some.” You nod, bumping elbows with him as you dodge a streetlight, “seems really important,” you muse. “I’d love to come if it’s no trouble?” Katsuki’s eyes are glued into your glossy lips while you say that, turning away with the tips of his ears pink as he grunts, “S’ no problem at all. I can get ya’ one tomorrow.” You hum thoughtfully, “it’ll be nice to see you in action up close. I’ve watched your sports festival showings before — it makes me want s’mores.” at this you giggle and lock eyes with him, “I let you do that one time.” Katsuki groans rolling his eyes. “Still the best ones I ever had!” He chuckles nudging you with his shoulder. You beam ear-to-ear and his heart pitters as you loop an arm through his to steady yourself, “I can’t believe we’re both so grown-up now.” And here you go turning sappy on him.

“You know Suki’ I know you’re gonna be a great hero because you’ve always done stuff like this for me. No matter how often others tell you different, you send them to me okay?” And you’re sniffling now, still shivering against his side as you prepare to fight off all the haters he has. He’s matured a lot since his debut, but they don’t say make a good-first impression for nothing. He glances at you intelligent, well-educated, passionate as you are you weren’t gonna put up much of a fight — he still appreciates the sentiment. He grumbles a “thank you” into your hair as he walks you home in the dead of night.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Behind the Lens and the Heart

Word count: 1.4k

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Summary: Y/N joins the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula 1 team as the new social media manager. From their first encounter, Lewis Hamilton is captivated by Y/N’s charm and passion. Despite his subtle advances and constant attention, Y/N remains oblivious.

______________________________________________________________

It was Y/N's first day as the new social media manager for the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula 1 team. The air was electric with the hum of engines, the chatter of mechanics, and the focused energy of the team. Walking through the paddock, Y/N felt a mix of excitement and nerves. This was a dream job, and she was determined to make her mark.

As she entered the team's motorhome, she was greeted by familiar faces from screens—engineers, PR reps, and, of course, the drivers. Her first task was a straightforward one: create a fun video to promote the upcoming Grand Prix. She was excited but a little anxious about asking one of the world’s most famous athletes to participate.

"Okay, first day," Y/N muttered to herself, straightening her posture. "You’ve got this."

She approached Lewis Hamilton, who was sitting at a table, reviewing some data with his engineer. He looked up as she approached, and the world seemed to slow down for a moment.

"Hi, Lewis," she said, her voice steady. "I’m Y/N, the new social media manager. I was wondering if you’d be up for a quick video?"

Lewis smiled, his warm eyes locking onto hers. For him, it was as if time had frozen. The moment she walked in, something inside him had clicked. She had a presence that was impossible to ignore—confident yet humble, with an infectious energy.

"Of course, Y/N," he replied, his voice smooth and inviting. "What do you need me to do?"

Y/N’s heart fluttered slightly at his easygoing nature. "I was thinking something fun—maybe a challenge with you and George? It doesn’t have to be anything serious, just something the fans will love."

Lewis chuckled, nodding. "Sounds good to me. Where do you want to shoot it?"

"How about in the garage? It’ll give the fans a behind-the-scenes feel," she suggested.

"Perfect," Lewis agreed, standing up. As they walked towards the garage, Y/N explained the concept, her enthusiasm clear in every word. Lewis listened intently, more focused on her than on the actual content of the video.

When they arrived, George Russell joined them, and the filming began. Y/N directed the drivers through a light-hearted quiz about the team’s history, throwing in some funny questions about their personal lives. The banter between Lewis and George was natural, and the video turned out better than she had imagined.

As they wrapped up, Y/N thanked them both. "Thanks, Lewis. Thanks, George. This was great. The fans are going to love it."

Lewis grinned at her, his gaze lingering a little longer than necessary. "Anytime, Y/N. Let me know if you need anything else."

She nodded, her mind already racing with ideas for the next video. Little did she know, Lewis was already thinking about how he could spend more time with her.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N settled into her role, creating content that the fans loved. Every time she needed a driver for a video, Lewis was always eager to participate. What she didn’t notice, however, was how he would light up whenever she approached, or how he made a point to seek her out during breaks.

One afternoon, after a long day of shooting and editing, Y/N was packing up her equipment when Lewis walked into the media room.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted, leaning against the doorframe.

"Hey, Lewis," she replied with a smile. "What’s up?"

"I was just wondering… a few of us are grabbing dinner tonight. Would you like to join us?" He asked, his tone casual, but there was a hint of something more in his eyes.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, caught off guard. "Dinner? With you guys?"

"Yeah, just a small group. It’s nothing formal, just some good food and conversation," Lewis explained, hoping she’d say yes.

"Sure, that sounds nice," she finally agreed. "Thanks for the invite."

As they headed out to the restaurant later that evening, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a casual dinner. But she brushed the thought aside—after all, why would someone like Lewis Hamilton be interested in her?

The restaurant was cozy and intimate, a stark contrast to the fast-paced world of Formula 1. Lewis, George, and a few other team members were there, but Y/N quickly realized that Lewis had positioned himself next to her at the table.

Throughout the evening, Lewis engaged her in conversation, asking about her interests, her life before joining the team, and her thoughts on the upcoming races. He was genuinely interested in everything she had to say, his attention never wavering.

"You’re really passionate about what you do," Lewis remarked at one point, his eyes softening as he spoke. "It’s refreshing."

"Thanks," Y/N replied, a little shy under his intense gaze. "I love storytelling, and this job is a perfect mix of creativity and excitement."

Lewis smiled, pleased with her response. "You’re doing an amazing job, Y/N. The fans are really connecting with the content you’re creating."

Y/N blushed, not used to such direct praise. "Thank you, Lewis. That means a lot coming from you."

As the evening went on, Y/N found herself relaxing, enjoying the easy conversation and the warm atmosphere.

The next race weekend was hectic, with Y/N busier than ever. She was filming content non-stop, managing the team’s social media accounts, and coordinating interviews. But no matter how busy she was, Lewis always found a way to interact with her.

"Y/N, do you need help with anything?" he asked one morning, spotting her juggling a camera, a microphone, and a tablet.

She looked up, surprised. "I think I’ve got it, but thanks, Lewis. Aren’t you supposed to be in a briefing?"

Lewis shrugged, a grin playing on his lips. "It can wait. I’d rather make sure you’re not overwhelmed."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "I appreciate it, but I can handle it. You’ve got a race to win!"

"Fair enough," he said, his tone light. "But don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything."

As the weekend progressed, Y/N noticed how Lewis seemed to go out of his way to be near her. Whether it was offering to participate in last-minute videos, or simply stopping by to chat, he always made sure to engage with her.

But despite all the signs, Y/N remained oblivious to his true feelings. To her, it was just Lewis being friendly—after all, he was known for his kindness and approachability.

It wasn’t until the final day of the Grand Prix weekend that Y/N began to suspect something more was going on. The race had been intense, with Lewis finishing on the podium. The team was ecstatic, and the celebrations were in full swing.

As the champagne sprayed and the cheers filled the air, Y/N was busy capturing the moment on camera. Suddenly, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Turning around, she found Lewis standing there, his race suit unzipped, revealing the Mercedes-branded shirt underneath. His face was glowing with the thrill of victory.

"Can I have a word?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the noise.

"Of course," Y/N replied, stepping aside with him.

Lewis led her to a quieter corner of the garage, away from the commotion. For a moment, he simply looked at her, his expression serious but soft.

"Y/N, I need to tell you something," he began, his voice steady but laced with emotion. "From the moment I met you, I knew there was something special about you. You’re smart, passionate, and you have this energy that’s just… captivating."

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. "Lewis, I—"

He cut her off gently, placing a hand on her arm. "I like you, Y/N. I’ve been trying to show it in little ways, but I think it’s time I just say it. I’m really into you."

Y/N stared at him, her mind racing. "But… you’re the Lewis Hamilton. You could have anyone. Why me?"

Lewis chuckled, his hand sliding down to take hers. "Why not you? You’re amazing, Y/N. I don’t care about the titles or the fame. I care about who you are—how you make me feel. And I think… no, I know, that I want to get to know you better. Much better."

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion, a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming happiness. "I… I don’t know what to say. I’ve been so focused on work, I didn’t even realize…"

"You don’t have to say anything right now," Lewis said, squeezing her hand gently. "I just wanted you to know how I feel. Take your time, Y/N. There’s no rush."

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — James has a huge crush on his labmate, the only question is how long will it take him to ask her out? (Answer: it's longer than you think)

WARNINGS — cancer mentions, patient death from cancer, drugs, alcohol (don't be mistaken this fic is tooth-rotting fluff)

NOTE — Okay this fic has come up from my compulsory need to elaborate on anything Canadian so if you ever wanted to see James at McGill, this fic is most definitely for you! Also I guess it's indirectly mentioned that reader was raised in Quebec, but obviously doesn't have to be "Quebecois" for this to work

Pronounciation — Jian = Chyehn

James chewed on the inside of his cheek as he walked up to the Stewart Biological Sciences Building on McGill campus. For some reason, it was so much more intimidating now that he was actually a student. During the tour he had his mother’s reassuring hand on his back, his father’s words of comfort that he would most definitely be accepted when he applied. 

Now that he had made it, he had to prove he belonged, but it could have been worse. His friends at Harvard and the University of Toronto had told him so. He was getting the best of both worlds, a prestigious school and, hopefully, not as much pressure as the rest of them. 

Without loitering any longer, he made his way inside and looked around to find the right lecture hall. It couldn’t possibly be that hard, could it?

After his first semester James had realized he’d made a few mistakes. One was living in a French speaking part of town without knowing a lick of the language, but that one was the easiest to deal with. The others were more in the realm of the amount of sleep he was getting and underestimating how much content the professors could shove down their throats in 14 weeks. 

He was more than happy to return to New Jersey for the holiday break to rest and recuperate before going back to the winter wonderland hell that was Montreal, but this time he was confident he would be more prepared. 

And for the most part, he was. He got enough sleep, partied responsibly (except Fridays, he partied hard then), always submitted his work on time and maintained his good GPA, making up for his poor fall semester. What he didn’t expect, however, was a distraction. 

When you walked into the room James watched you curiously, he thought maybe he’d seen you somewhere before, but he couldn’t quite place it. Besides, you were much more interesting than watching his sample boil for another five minutes. 

You came and took a seat next to him, taking out your safety goggles and lab notebook from your bag before shoving it under the table. 

“You’re sample’s boiling over,” you said, but James didn’t register you were talking to him at first, still looking at you in a slightly dazed manner before you physically pointed to the beaker, making his eyes go wide as he frantically turned down the heat and removed it. 

“It’s a wonder you passed the lab safely quiz,” you teased and James blushed. 

“Good thing I don’t want to be a chemist.” 

“Oh, and what do you want to be then?” you asked, preparing your own sample for boiling. 

“A doctor,” he shared with a little more confidence. 

“Any specialty in mind or just a doctor,” you said, doing air quotes over the word. 

“I’ve been shadowing some of the researchers in the Life Sciences Research Complex and I think oncology might be a good fit for me.” 

“Yeah, as long as you don’t have to boil cancer cells you should be fine,” you assured him. 

“What about you?” he rolled on the balls of his feet as he continued his experiment. “Or are you all talk?” 

“Pfft, you think I’d be here if I was all talk?” you asked. “No, I want to be a medical researcher.” 

“Maybe you should do some shadowing in the LSRC then.” 

“No thanks, I think I’ll stick to my job there.” 

“Your job?” James looked at your wish surprise. “Aren’t you like 18?” 

“Almost,” you smiled. 

“How did you manage to get a job there? They barely let undergraduates in the labs, let alone be responsible for anything.” 

“It’s nothing fancy,” you assured him. “I just do cataloguing for now, but it's a good experience.” 

“Still,” he raised his brows, “you must be like a prodigy or something.” 

“Again, no,” you shook your head. “Just someone who goes after what she wants.” 

There was a comfortable pause where you both took down your distillation set ups and began working on the filtration portion of the experiment. 

“So what’s your name, anyways?” you asked, looking over at him. “Hey, look, clamp it this way,” you demonstrated and he followed your lead, seeing how much more stable the glassware was afterwards. 

“Thanks,” he smiled. “I’m James.” 

You told him your name and continued your work again in silence.

Chemistry labs quickly became the favourite part of James’ week. 

Ever since that lab, James began to see you in all his classes. On more than a few occasions, he’d had to steal notes from his friends on account of forgetting to pay attention. It became an easy thing to tease him about, so his friends began calling him heart-eyes, because who was he kidding, he had a crush. 

“Get your head out of your ass, heart-eyes, I am not giving you my notes again,” his friend, Carlo, shoved his arm and whispered harshly as he could see him getting distracted. 

“Sorry,” James shook his head and began scribbling down what he had missed, his eyes darting back and forth from the board and back to you. 

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Pierre asked him after class. “Don’t you talk all the time in the lab?” 

“More like I stare at her and she says stuff to make it not awkward,” he cringed at his own actions. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Every time I’m with her I can’t string together a sentence, and– Jesus Christ you should have seen my face last week! Full on red, like I can’t even be subtle about it!” 

“Yikes,” Jian grimaced. 

“It’s bad, I know,” James assured. 

“And this is why we call you heart-eyes,” Carlo patted James on the back. 

“Yeah, say it a little louder, maybe she’ll hear you,” James said sarcastically. 

“Who’ll hear you?” the group of boys heard a voice behind them and all their eyes went wide as they spun around and saw you. 

“No one!” Jian was quick to answer in the least nonchalant way possible, making the rest of the group, especially James, stare daggers at him. 

“It’s not no one,” Carlo attempted to save face. “Just… this girl back in uh New Jersey that James’ got the hots for,” he gained confidence with every word of the sentence before adorning a smug smile on his face and patting James yet again on the back. 

“You’re afraid a girl in New Jersey will hear you?” you looked curiously at James but he just stared blankly at you. “So you call him heart-eyes?” you instead turned your attention to his friends and they nodded. “That’s cute, maybe I’ll call you that too.” 

“Sure,” was all a red faced James could get out before you excused yourself to head over to work. 

Pierre was trying very hard to keep a straight face while you walked away and James slapped both Carlo and Jian upside the head. 

“What the hell was that! Could you not have been more obvious, Jian? And Carlo, a girl back in New Jersey? Now she thinks I’m pining for someone else!” 

“On the plus side, maybe she’ll think all your blushing around her is a circulation issue,” Pierre shrugged. 

“You guys are the worst,” James shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets, continuing to walk along the path to one of the libraries. 

“No, we just saved your ass,” Carlo caught up with him. “However terribly, but if we didn’t say anything you would have stared at her with your mouth open like a trout.” 

“Carlo does have a point,” Jian agreed, “At least we bought you a little time to get your act together.” 

James sighed, “You guys have too much faith in me.”

“You said that when I started to teach you French and you’ve come a long way with that,” Pierre said. 

“Yeah, sure I went from saying nothing to being able to say Je m'appelle James et je ne parle pas français.” 

“And what a handy sentence that is when you don’t speak French!” Pierre grinned and James couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head. 

“Okay, I’ll try and get my act together and ask her out…and learn more French.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Carlo patted his back. “Now let’s go get a drink and relax.” 

“Maybe after we study for our physics midterm?” James nudged his friend and Jian nodded his head in agreement. 

“Fine, I guess if we have to,” Carlo sighed. 

“Not everyone is naturally good at kinematics, Carlo. Take pity on us mere mortals who have to study,” Pierre responded, eliciting a chuckle from his buddies. 

James was quiet as he thought to himself. If he could get a B on this physics test, maybe there was hope for him getting his act together after all.

—

Summer break rolled around faster than James had expected. While Jian went back to Richmond, Pierre over to Quebec City, and Carlo to Chicago, James was left alone in Montreal, working to help pay his tuition for the next year. Being an international student was no joke. 

He would have gone back to New Jersey, but the positions he applied to in Montreal paid more so it wasn’t a hard decision to make. 

His parents would come visit him for some time in July, but for the most part he was alone. 

On late nights, he’d make his way to the McDonald’s in the neighbourhood, not knowing enough French to go anywhere else nearby. At least there, most of them spoke enough English to take his order, and if not it was really easy to point to the menu. 

“It’s already done?” he asked. 

“Give us some credit, hein. We knew you were coming, we had it ready.” 

James chuckled and handed him the money for the order, exchanging it for the bag which he took to a table and sat down. 

As he was pulling out his fries from his bag he heard the chime of the door and looked up curiously to see who was coming at this time of night. 

He stopped what he was doing when he recognized you, watching as you dug through your purse and spoke to the cashier in French. You both laughed about something James couldn’t quite catch and a little while later, after you had paid they handed you a bag and an ice cream cone when James heard you say something about ‘deux cuillères’ taking the utensils they gave you and turing straight towards James’ table, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down. 

“I thought you lived in New Jersey,” you said. 

James was still stunned that you had noticed him and couldn’t find the words to speak. 

“Hey, heart-eyes?” you waved your hand in front of his face. “You okay?” 

“Y-Yeah,” he nodded, distracting himself by pulling out his burger from his bag. 

“So why aren’t you in Jersey?” you asked. 

“Work. I got a job here, it paid better.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully while eating some of your fries. “And all your friends?” 

“Back with their families, unfortunately for me,” he nodded. “W-What about you?” 

“Oh, I live here,” you shrugged. “In this neighbourhood actually.” 

“You live here?” he asked. 

“That’s what I said,” you nodded. 

“And so that’s how you know French?” 

“Every kid in Quebec learns French, it’s kind of a non-negotiable,” you shared. “I gather that’s why you’re eating here.” 

“Yeah, Pierre didn’t manage to teach me enough before he left,” he sighed and started to eat his meal. 

“I could teach you if you want. I’m taking a little break this summer so I have some spare time,” you offered. 

“Oh, I don’t want to-,” 

“James, you’re gonna have a shitty summer if you don’t say yes.”

He couldn’t argue with that, it would be nice to communicate more with the people who lived around him. 

“Okay, sure, but I’m warning you, I’m a terrible student.” 

“I used to tutor one of my siblings, trust me it can’t be worse than that,” you laughed. 

You chatted a little more, finishing your meals but not before you handed James a spoon. 

“So this is cuillère then?” he asked. “I-I overheard you talking to Jean.” 

“Yeah, your pronunciation isn’t bad either,” you nodded. “Here.” 

You pushed the ice cream cone between you and began to eat it with the spoon. James had a bit of a sweet tooth and wouldn’t be one to refuse dessert so he began to share the ice cream cone with you. 

“So, are you missing your girl in New Jersey?” you asked and James cursed internally, trying to come up with a lie to tell you. 

“Um, no not really,” he shook his head. “I don’t think we would have worked out anyways.” 

“Oh, so are your friends still calling you heart-eyes?” 

He nodded his head, thinking it was better not to say anything in case he gave himself away. 

“It’s good that you recognized you wouldn’t work out before you asked her out,” you said, “Couple guys wanted to go on dates with me this year, but just didn’t seem like the right fit. Plus, I don’t really think I’m looking for anything like that right now.”

James nodded his head again, silently eating the ice cream. 

“Ever been in love, James?” you asked. 

“That’s a really loaded question to ask someone you cornered in a McDonald’s at 11 P.M.” 

You ignored his response and continued, 

“I haven’t, it seems like such a big thing, how would you even know if it was love?” 

James looked up at the ceiling, silently asking God to not let him say something stupid, 

“I think most of the time it comes on gradually, maybe you won’t even know it at first.” 

“So you have been in love,” you confirmed and he shrugged his shoulders. 

“I…I don’t know. Maybe I have.” 

“That’s not a very straightforward answer.” 

“Then maybe I haven’t. I feel like if it was love, you’d figure it out, eventually.” 

You pursed your lips and nodded your head. 

“I hope I get to fall in love,” you smiled softly to yourself. “Seems nice.” 

“Yeah,” James agreed. “It does.” 

—

A few years later… 

“So how did it go?” Jian asked, as they sat around James’ small living room. 

“It…could have been better,” James sucked in some air through his teeth, recalling a recent memory from earlier that afternoon. 

“What the fuck James! You scared the shit out of me! I could have broken the hemocytometer, do you know how much that shit costs?!” 

“Sorry!” James quickly apologized and dropped his books down on the nearest surface to help you clean up, making you look up again at him with disdain. 

“In the BSC? Really? Now we have to resterilize and all the specimens I have in there are as good as compromised.” 

“Shit,” James muttered under his breath, he was usually so much better in the lab, but the second he was with you he became a bumbling mess. “I-I’ll take care of the BSC, I’m so sorry.” 

You sighed and removed your gloves, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“It’s not just boiling water we’re dealing with anymore, James,” you said a little more calmly than before. “You’ve gotta be more careful, okay? I’m not losing my job over this.” 

James nodded his head and went to grab the things to sterilize the biological safety cabinet and grab the new specimen from the fridge. So much for trying to get a job at LSRC to impress you. 

“I was not built to be a researcher,” James shook his head. 

“I mean, it’s not that big of a screw up, you fixed it eventually, didn’t you?” Pierre asked.

“Yeah, but not until after a thorough amount of embarrassment.” 

“I thought girls found clumsy guys endearing,” Carlo commented. 

“Not when the girl is determined to become the leading medical researcher on the continent,” James sighed. “Maybe taking this job was a bad idea. From what I can see she hasn’t even changed her opinion on dating, she hasn’t been with anyone these past three years.” 

“Do you hear that?” Carlo removed his feet from the coffee table and placed them on the ground. “You’ve been in love with her for three years and haven’t done anything about it.” 

“Who said I was in love with her? And sure, maybe I haven’t made a move, but I learnt French!” James tried to defend himself, pointing to Pierre. 

“That’s not as good of a comeback as you think it is,” Pierre shook his head. 

“I know,” James hung his head low and sat on the couch between Pierre and Jian. “We’re gonna graduate in a year and she’s not gonna know I’m in love with her.” 

“So you are in love with her?” Jian looked over at his friend sympathetically. 

James leaned back and used the heels of his palms to cover his eyes. 

“He’s gonna have a meltdown, don’t ask him that,” Pierre shook his head. 

“God, I do love her!” he exclaimed like he was just finding it out for the first time himself. 

“What did I say,” Pierre sighed. 

“Can I make it stop?” James looked over at his friends who all shrugged. “I am so screwed.” 

“This time, I think we agree with you,” Carlo took a sip of his drink. “Good luck, man.” 

James squeezed his eyes shut, he would definitely need it. 

—

The year passed to graduation and James was still sitting on his feelings. It was much too late now to say anything. You’d already been accepted to a graduate program through your work with the LSRC and James had passed his MCAT with flying colours and was on his way to medical school at Columbia. 

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was going to miss Montreal, the city had grown on him during his time there and a part of him wished he could stay. 

His friends were also ready for the next stages in their studies, all going to different places across the continent to get their other degrees, with, of course, the promise to stay in touch. 

James didn’t know what the next little bit of his life had in store for him, but he hoped regardless of where he ended up, maybe he’d be able to make up for his missed opportunities. 

The years of medical school, once started, passed faster than James expected them to, and by the end of it, much to his own surprise, he’d also gotten married. 

You were almost all but forgotten in the back of his mind, but time continued to play its games. 

Medical school turned into a specialization in oncology, and a divorce. Then residency and a marriage. Then a second divorce. Then another marriage and more recently a position at a hospital in his hometown, on the board and a well respected oncologist and a few new friends…and a third divorce. 

“House, I’m not asking you to let them all sleep in your apartment, it’s just a dinner for one night, we’ll be out and about for the rest of the time that they’re here,” James sighed. 

“Can’t you just cancel?” House asked. “Divorce seems like a pretty good reason to get out of a reunion.” 

“See, the thing is, I’d rather not be miserable and see my friends instead, and they bought their tickets months ago. Please, House, I’ll do the dishes for a week.” 

“A month,” House said. 

“Two weeks,” James negotiated and House nodded, so they shook on it. 

“Good, now that I’ve done you a favour, you can do me one,” House smiled, but the kind of smile that was conniving, like he had something up his sleeve all along. 

“I paid you in chores for my favour, who says I owe you anything?” 

“Unless you want me to call your friends and cancel for you, you’ll do it,” House continued to walk the hospital’s hallways hobbling with his cane. 

“What is it?” James sighed, catching up with him. 

“We have a patient and he doesn’t speak very good English, but he does speak French. You went to McGill didn’t you? Must have picked up some of the love language.” 

“Unfortunately for me in this case, I did,” he nodded. 

“Perfect, come with me now,” House motioned with his head to the patient’s room and James trailed behind him. 

When he entered the room, House motioned for him to begin speaking. James hadn’t spoken a lot of French since his undergrad so he was definitely rusty, but he supposed it was better than nothing and began to explain that he would be helping with the translation.

“Erm, Bonjour, je suis Dr. Wilson, je vais aider Dr. House avec la traduction.” 

The man looked at James strangely before saying. 

“You’re an anglophone, but you speak French like you’re Quebecois.” 

“I um did my undergraduate in Montreal, I learnt how to speak there,” James responded back in French. 

“Hmm.” 

James could tell this wasn’t going to be fun. Some of the French held quite a bit of hate towards Quebec, who knew why, but his accent definitely wasn’t going to help him in this situation. 

House got James to ask some routine medical history questions and a few things about his symptoms all the while James had to filter out all the insults that were coming his way with regards to his “poor use of language” and “unintelligible accent”. 

When he could finally leave the room, James let out a string of French curses under his breath, still thinking in the other language. 

“House, why can’t you just get a proper translator?” he asked. “I’m terrible at this.” 

“Cuddy said something about making a big purchase recently and being currently unable to do so, especially since you put that you speak French in your resume. Bet you’re regretting that one now.” 

“Yeah,” James nodded his head. “Big time.” 

They began to walk towards the elevator to go to the cafeteria for lunch, when James decided to inquire more about Cuddy’s big purchase. 

“Oh, she said something about money this, medical research that,” House shook his head, “You know I stopped listening the second she wouldn’t give me what I wanted.” 

“She hired a medical researcher,” James said aloud, chewing on the words, “I wonder who she-,” 

His train of thought was cut off when he saw, near the elevator, a face he hadn’t seen since graduation day at McGill. 

Quickly, unable to think of anything else to do, he ran into the administrative area and hid crouched down behind a photocopier. 

House watched his friend curiously before walking over towards him and leaning against the copier asked him if he’d gone insane. 

“No, I just, um, remembered I needed to copy some patient files,” he lied. 

“You don’t have any with you,” House said. 

“I faxed them from my office,” he lied again. 

“I think I need to go get Foreman, clearly you’re having a neurological breakdown,” House said. 

“Can you just stop making it obvious I’m here?!” James exclaimed in a whisper. 

Unfortunately for him, as you were walking past, his harsh whisper made his location obvious, causing you to look down and see his familiar face. 

“Oh my God, heart-eyes, is that you?” you asked with a smile and James pressed his lips in a thin line and nodded. “What are you doing down there?” 

James became speechless and suddenly he was an eighteen-year-old back in his chemistry lab. 

“He’s checking to see if we need more toner,” House said, lying for his friend, but James knew that was all he would get out of him. “Well, that’s my cue to leave, you guys have fun.” 

You reached down and offered James a hand, helping him back into a standing position. 

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” you commented. “Like since we were-,” 

“22,” James filled in and you nodded. 

“Yeah,” you bit your lip before asking him how he had been. 

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I-I’m assuming you’re the medical researcher Cuddy hired?” 

“That would be correct,” you smiled. 

“Why did you choose to work here? I thought you were some big hotshot in Canada?” 

“I am a big hotshot, which is why I wanted to come to a teaching hospital. I thought maybe it would give more opportunities to teach other people what I know. It’s a win-win. I get to do what I want to and the hospital gets grant money from my research,” you explained. “It looks like you got where you wanted to be too, Mr. Oncologist.” 

“Actually it’s Dr. Oncologist,” he joked and you laughed, making his cheeks go red after hearing the sound.

“I missed having you around, James. We should catch up sometime,” you suggested. 

“Yeah sure,” he nodded. “I-I’d love that.” 

You excused yourself, needing to go introduce yourself to a class of medical students, waving goodbye to James, leaving him stuck in his tracks for a few moments before he could gather his senses again and head downstairs for lunch. 

—

“We could have rescheduled if this was too much, man,” Carlo watched James as he brought a large roast to the table for them to eat. 

“See? What did I tell you,” House rolled his eyes and James gave him a disapproving stare. 

“No, I wanted you guys to come, we’ve been planning this for months. I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of it,” he assured his friends. “Plus, we know how hard it is to nail down Pierre, I swear you are always travelling. Every time we talk you’re in a different country.” 

“That’s the life of a parasitologist,” he shrugged and helped James by beginning to cut the roast. 

“And Jian, how’s the wife and kids?” 

“They’re good,” Jian smiled. “Mei started first grade in September. Becky and I are both up for promotions at the hospital, so I can’t really complain. Although I think Carlo can.” 

“Seriously it’s not that big of a deal,” Carlo groaned, “Sure yeah, pharmaceuticals are more flashy than biophysics, but that doesn’t mean that my research wasn’t better.” 

“Well if it was better why did William get the award?” James asked and Carlo just flipped him the bird. 

“Didn’t we go to school with him?” Pierre asked. 

“We did?” James raised a brow. 

“Yeah, for a year, from Toronto, huge stoner. Hated being there and did literally no work, but still managed to get honours,” Jian explained. 

“Sounds like my kinda guy,” House commented and James rolled his eyes. 

Just as they continued to dish out dinner, House’s pager went off and he sighed, excusing himself from the table while practically threatening James to leave him some food. 

When House left, James’ friends saw their opening and began their personal line of questioning. 

“Hey, James, are you really okay?” Jian asked. 

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” James asked in return. 

“You’re getting a divorce,” Pierre said. “Seems like a pretty good reason to not be okay.” 

James shook his head, 

“Yeah sure, it’s a shitty situation,” he admitted. “Did I imagine myself at this point in my life with three failed marriages? No, definitely not. Can I do anything to change it? Also no, and right now I really wouldn’t want to change it.” 

“Can we ask what happened?” Carlo queried. 

“She cheated on me, then left me,” James said simply. 

“Forgive me,” Pierre said. “But you seemed a lot more upset when we talked over the phone last week. What changed?” 

James looked down at his plate and cut into his roast, thinking about what Pierre had said. It was true, even earlier today he was sulking about, that was until he ran into you. 

“I swear,” James started, “if you guys make a big deal about this I will murder you all,” he used his knife to point at all of them and they nodded, swearing their silence. “I’ve got heart-eyes again.” 

“You met someone new?” Jian asked and Carlo shook his head. 

“No, he re-met someone old. Tell me, did your hospital recently hire a medical researcher?” 

James nodded his head and the table was about to erupt into a loud chorus of comments when James gave them a look and they all restrained themselves. 

“James, I’m being dead serious when I say this, but you should have married her,” Pierre insisted. “I never saw you look at anyone else the way you looked at her.” 

“Probably explains the three divorces then, doesn’t it? I was still in love with her the whole time,” James sighed. “It’s going to come up eventually, seems like a pretty big indicator that I’m not good at relationships.” 

“Who knows, maybe she won’t care,” Jian offered. 

“What was it like when you saw her again?” Carlo asked, looking for any opportunity to tease his friend. 

“How do you think it was? I could barely talk, I was a nervous wreck, and blushing like crazy,” he shook his head at the thought of it. “I could literally feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I feel like a middle school girl every time I’m near her.”

“Who knows, maybe she still thinks you have circulation issues,” Jian shrugged and the table laughed. 

“What I would give to stay here and watch this play out,” Carlo sighed and leaned back in his seat. 

“Knowing James, you’d have to be here for ten years before he made a move on her,” Pierre raised a brow and James threw a piece of potato at him. 

“If you ever do get the guts to ask her out, call us. We’ve made bets on this,” Carlo added. 

“Real comforting, guys,” James ate a bite of the roast. “I thought this was supposed to be my pity party.” 

“Not anymore,” Jian shook his head. “You’ve got heart-eyes.” 

This time around, James thought maybe he didn’t mind the nickname as much as he used to. 

—

“I would think they’d get you your own office at this point,” James commented as he entered his office, seeing you sitting at his desk, eating a pre-packed lunch. 

“Beats me,” you shrugged and continued to eat. 

“So you’ve decided that invading my office is your next best bet?” 

“Oh hush,” you waved him off with your fork. 

“Well, excuse me for wanting to come to a safe place after being verbally assaulted by House’s patient,” he sat on the opposite side of the desk and leaned back in the chair. 

“Verbally assaulted?” you asked. “By a patient who isn’t even your own?” 

“He doesn’t like the way I speak French,” James rolled his eyes. “I’m translating while they’re treating him since the department used all its money hiring you.” 

“What can I say, hotshots cost a lot of money.” 

“You know, you could do the translation, probably much better than I can,” he noted. 

“I could, but you probably need the practice more than I do, chèri,” you scrunched your nose in a cute mocking way and James could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks yet again. “You still keeping up with that posse of yours?” you asked, changing the subject. 

“Yeah, they all flew in to visit a few days ago, we’re gonna go out tonight,” he said. “Do you…maybe want to join us?” he suggested. 

“I don’t have plans, as long as they’re okay with it I’d love to come,” you smiled. 

“Oh trust me, they will definitely be okay with it.” 

—

Later that night, James was drinking deeply from his glass while he watched his friends stare blankly ahead at you. If he looked anything like they did all those times his words were caught in his throat, then he hoped to spontaneously combust right then and there. 

“Heart-eyes, I thought you said they were okay with me coming?” you leaned over and whispered to him. 

James put down his glass and nodded his head. 

“They are okay with it, right?” 

Snapping out of their daze, the three men nodded their heads and finally began professing assurances that everything was fine. 

“It’s just… you said James invited you?” Jian asked with furrowed bows. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “He mentioned you guys were in town and getting together tonight and asked me if I wanted to join.” 

James bit down on his tongue trying not to say anything, but also gave his friends a look to shut up before they gave anything away. He knew what was running through their minds, they were wondering how the hell he’d gotten the guts to ask you to come, but there was one fundamental difference between tonight and any other time he could have possibly asked you. This wasn’t a date, therefore, there was no pressure. 

“Maybe you could tell them what you’ve been up to since they last saw you?” James suggested. 

“Oh, um, well, I got my master’s degree and doctorate at McGill, both for research in cancer biology-,” 

“Cancer biology?” Pierre interrupted. “I don’t remember you mentioning you were interested in that.” 

“I-I wasn’t initially,” you admitted. “Just after spending more time in the LSRC and a few other irrelevant things I decided it was the best fit for me to focus on.” 

“You and heart-eyes make a pretty good pair then,” Carlo raised his eyebrows suggestively and took a sip of his drink. 

“I guess we do,” you chuckled. “As long as he leaves the research to me. We all know what he’s like in the lab.” 

“I resent that,” James protested only before saying, “but I do deserve it.” 

“It’s a miracle he hasn’t had a medical malpractice suit,” Pierre added. 

You asked the boys about where their various careers had taken them and how they were each doing. The conversation stayed pretty normal until the topic changed to relationships, starting with Jian’s wife and family back in Vancouver and Pierre’s husband who was currently in Australia doing research on some massive insect. 

“What about you Carlo?” you asked. “Anyone special in your life?” 

“Nah,” he waved his hand. 

“What about the mom of the kid who pet sits for you?” Jian asked. 

“That kid charges me per animal, per size. If I were to date his mom he’d probably charge me for dating her too, and I don’t think I can afford his price,” he shook his head and the table laughed. 

“James, you’ve been quiet,” you said. “Nothing to share?” 

James nervously took a sip of his drink and looked over at his friends for help. 

“James hasn’t had the best luck in love,” Pierre settled on. 

“Oh, haven’t found anybody, that’s not a big deal,” you assured him. “I haven’t either.” 

“Well,” Carlo said in a high-pitched voice. “It’s not exactly that he hasn’t found anybody.” 

“So there’s someone-?” 

“I’m divorced,” James blurted. “Three times. Or soon to be three anyway.” 

“Oh,” you paused and tried to think of the right thing to say, but for the moment settled on nothing while Pierre changed the subject. 

After the visit was over, James offered to walk you to your car and you accepted. The walk started off in silence, but you decided to break it. 

“You know, I hope you find the right person eventually,” you said. “It’s unfortunate things didn’t work out three times.” 

“Yeah,” James nodded in agreement. “I-um, do you ever think about that conversation we had, in the McDonald’s by my apartment?” 

“Sometimes I do,” you admitted. 

“Looking back on that, I wonder if we ever really loved each other. If we did this probably wouldn’t have happened. We would have fixed things, worked on ourselves instead of just…giving up.” 

“So I guess you still haven’t fallen in love yet?” you asked, but he stayed silent. “Whoever it is, I’m sure things will find a way to work out for you.”

“The moment may have passed on that,” he said with his hands shoved in his pockets and looking down at the ground. 

“You never know, James. Sometimes life has a funny way of surprising you.” 

—

James watched as his colleagues and a few of the students from the university left the lecture hall while he continued to sit in his seat, watching you walk up towards him. 

“Don’t you have patients or something?” you asked. “You’re at all of my lectures.” 

“Doesn’t it seem appropriate for an oncologist to attend a cancer biology lecture?” he asked as you sat down next to him. 

“I suppose so,” you sighed. “Doesn’t explain why you weren’t taking notes though.” 

James looked down at his empty hands and cursed a little internally. 

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “I don’t mind the staring, it reminds me of school.” 

“You noticed?” he asked. 

“You weren’t very subtle,” you chuckled. 

“Yeah, not one of my strong suits,” he blushed, embarrassed. 

“Do you wanna go grab lunch before your break is over?” you asked and James nodded, standing up and offering you a hand to get out of your seat. 

You went to the cafeteria, running into his friend House who managed to get his food paid for by James, yet again, before leaving to go back up to his office and work on another differential diagnosis with his employees. 

“Did all the guys get back home safe after their trip?” you asked, digging into your food. 

“Carlo and Jian are back home, Pierre went to go be with Ollie in Australia.”

“It must be hard not living near them.” 

James sighed and nodded his head. “It’s a balance. When they’re being annoying, it’s great that they don’t live here and when they’re not, it sucks.” 

“Spoken like a true friend,” you chuckled. 

“What about you? Do you still keep in touch with people from school? During any of your degrees?” 

“Not really,” you shook your head. “After my undergrad I became so laser focused on my school I didn’t pay attention to relationships that much outside of my family. Starting to regret it a bit now.” 

“Kind of hard to have a good conversation with cancer cells,” James said sarcastically and you shook your head. “Do you like it in New Jersey so far?” 

“Not as much as back home,” you admitted, “but it is nice to have a friend here.”

“Yeah, Jersey is…an acquired taste,” he settled on, making you laugh, but your laughter was cut off by the sound of his pager, and he looked down to see what the message was before quickly standing up. “Sorry, I have to-,” 

“Don’t worry,” you assured him. “I’ll pack up your food and bring it to your office.” 

“Thanks,” he nodded and you waved goodbye as he ran off out of the cafeteria and to the oncology floor to go help one of his patients. 

—

James didn’t find himself walking around the campus often, but when he did it was usually because he had to clear his head. With everything that was going on in his life, in addition to the circumstances of this case, he was taking it harder than normal. 

He had left his coat in his office as the hot New Jersey sun was already beating down, his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes following his feet as he took his steps forward. 

He didn’t notice you sitting on a bench as he was passing by. Curious as to his state, you stood up and went to meet up with him. 

“Hey James, are you okay?” 

Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts almost instantly. He stopped to look up at you, seeing the concern reflecting in your eyes. 

He took his hands out of his pockets and motioned for you to walk with him. 

“I lost a patient today,” he explained. “He was 11.” 

“Oh, James, I’m so sorry,” you said softly. 

“In med school you learn pretty quickly if you don’t find a way to deal with what you face every day the result is never good,” he said and you noticed him chewing on the inside of his cheek, “but it was just too sunny outside. How could it be sunny on a day like this?” 

You didn’t say anything initially, only intertwining your hand with his and giving it a light squeeze which he returned. 

“You know, I think it’s probably okay, every once in a while, to let yourself mourn your patients. Just like everyone else. You have a uniquely difficult job, James, and no one would hold it against you if you need a minute to adjust.” 

James stopped walking and you followed his lead, only to have him let go of your hand and pull you into a tight hug. You easily wrapped your arms around his neck while his arms were around your waist. 

“You’re a good doctor, James,” you mumbled. “I know, even if you don’t quite believe it right now, you did everything you could to help that young boy and make him more comfortable.” 

You could feel him nod his head, clearly not trusting himself to say anything at the moment. 

Neither of you wanted to let go, but you knew that you both had work to get back to. James had other patients he was responsible for and you had some work to do in one of the hospital labs. 

So silently, hand in hand, you accompanied each other back to the hospital, grateful for each other’s company. 

—

“I swear, if I stay there any longer I’m going to go mad,” James whispered to you under his breath as you walked along the halls of the hospital with him to help him run some tests for a few patients. 

“What was it this time?” you asked, huddling in closer, waiting for him to spill the beans on why living with his best friend was becoming unbearable. 

“He keeps pranking me,” he began to explain and you could see how frustrated he was just by his hand movements. “Last night he thought of the genius idea to put my hand in warm water while I was sleeping and-,” James stopped himself, realizing he’d divulged too much, just as your eyes went wide. 

“Oh my God you didn’t wet the bed did you?” you asked in a chuckle and James quickly covered your mouth saying, 

“Shh! The whole hospital doesn’t need to hear you!” 

You couldn’t hold in your laugh, muffled by James’ hand over your mouth and his cheeks were a bright cherry red. 

Eventually you pulled his hand away and said, 

“You definitely need to get out of there. That’s criminal.” 

“Exactly what I’m saying,” James agreed. 

“Hey, why don’t you come over to my place tonight?” you suggested. “We can watch a movie or something together.” 

“That sounds like exactly what I need right now,” he nodded his head. “What time?” 

“Come over at eight, it’ll give me some time to get snacks and get ready.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he held out his hand and you took it shaking it firmly. 

Later that evening while James was getting ready, House watched him curiously. 

“I still don’t believe that you blowdry your hair,” he said loudly over the sound of the appliance. 

“Believe it or not, I do,” James responded. 

“It just seems so pointless, your hair is messy anyways,” he crossed his arms and James gave him a look. 

“My hair looks fine, yours on the other hand could use a trim and about a billion other things,” James retorted.

“So, is this a date?” House asked, changing the topic. 

“No, it’s not a date,” James shook his head. “It’s an opportunity for me to get away from your insanity.” 

“Are you sure it’s not a date?” he asked. 

“What makes you think it's a date?” he finally gave in and turned around to face his friend, turning off the blow dryer. 

“Well if you asked her if you could come over, probably not a date, but if she offered…” he shrugged his shoulders. 

James shook his head, he didn’t want to allow himself to believe it was true, because if it was, he’d probably overthink things and make a fool of himself. 

“It’s not a date,” he reiterated and House stopped pressing, seeing as his friend would not be reasoned with. 

James finished fixing his hair and grabbed his keys and a coat before stepping out of the door. 

It didn’t take him long to drive to your house and when he knocked at the door he heard shuffling inside before the lock clicked and you opened it. 

“Hey! You got the dress code memo,” you joked, pointing to his McGill sweater and then back at yours. 

“I thought you might like a blast from the past,” he smiled and you invited him inside. 

As he entered he noticed the array of pillows on the couch, blankets draped over arm chairs, and books piled on every surface possible. To top it off, the house was currently only lit by lamps allowing a warm orange hue to fall over the space. It made James’ shoulders relax and he could even feel his nervous heart rate slow. 

“Do you like it?” you asked. “I am by no means an interior decorator, but I tried to make it feel cozy so it’s nice to come back to after long days at work.” 

“I do like it,” James nodded. “A lot. It feels like a home.” 

“Perfect, that’s exactly what I was going for,” you smiled. “You’re the first guest I’ve had here, you know?” 

“Really? No fancy dinner parties with the hospital board?” 

“No, not yet,” you chuckled. “Unfortunately, this guy in the oncology department keeps taking up all my time.”

You grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the couch. 

“But don’t worry, I don’t mind.” 

After he took off his coat, you both sat down next to each other, James extending his hand along the back of the couch and you naturally sat right up next to him, leaning forward to grab the remote and turn on the movie. 

“What did you pick?” James asked. 

“Just some random horror movie,” you said. “I heard it’s really cheesy.” 

“We’ll see about that,” James raised his brows and grabbed the popcorn from the table, putting it in between you both. 

You pressed play once you were both settled and tossed the remote to the side of the couch, curling your legs up and waiting in anticipation for the movie to begin.

It didn’t take long for the horror plot to begin, jumping right into the satanic murders and supernatural deaths. Just as you had predicted, it was cheesy, but that didn’t stop you from being startled whenever something popped up unexpectedly on the screen. 

Both of you were lulled into a false sense of security during what seemed like a quiet part of the movie, then, all of a sudden, the killer jumped into the frame with a loud change in the soundtrack, causing you to shriek and move towards James, also feeling him jump slightly from being startled. 

You both looked up at each other and laughed at the ridiculousness of your collective fright. 

“You’re supposed to be the calm one,” you elbowed him. 

“I know it just-Jesus!” James found himself inadvertently closing his eyes and wrapping his arm around you as if it would give him some protection from what was on the screen. 

You laughed again and leaned closer into his side, patting his leg to assure him it was safe to open his eyes again. 

“You must enjoy torturing me, that’s the only explanation for this,” James looked over at you and you shook your head. 

“Come on, heart-eyes, you think that lowly of me?” 

James couldn’t stop the smile that creeped past his lips, “No, of course not.” 

“Good, that means I still have the upper hand,” you moved your head to look back at the TV, but not before James tickled you in retaliation for your words. 

It took a moment, but you eventually surrendered and moved your focus back to the movie, still feeling a little warm from your laughter. 

You grabbed some of the other candies and snacks from the table, holding a gummy bear up for James to try and he did without so much as a second thought. 

“Still have a sweet tooth I see,” you offered him a different candy which he ate again and nodded. 

“You don’t want to know how many cavities I’ve had.” 

“Here,” you handed him a wrapped treat. “This one’s special from home.” 

“Maple candies,” he smiled. “They don’t make ‘em like they do in Montreal.” 

“They were your favourite, right?” you asked. 

James looked over at you again curiously, “You remembered that?” 

“Of course I did,” you shrugged. “Oh wait, look,” you pointed to the TV before grimacing and covering your eyes, but still peeking through your fingers. “Ew!” 

James just smiled at you, finding it harder and harder to resist the urge to kiss you, the thought bringing a warm sensation to his stomach. 

He settled instead on doing what he’d been doing forever: staring at you with heart-eyes. 

—

James tried to fight a yawn as he grabbed one of the many books on the shelves in his office, taking it to his couch and sitting down next to you. 

“You don’t have to do this, James,” you told him. “You probably have to be back tomorrow morning, you should go home and rest.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he insisted. “You look in here for that article I was telling you about and I’ll start proofreading.” 

There were many papers and files strewn around the couch, you couldn’t remember when you first came in, but James never seemed to mind when you worked in his office instead of your own. 

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I feel like I brought a tornado in here.” 

James looked up from your paper and nodded his head. 

“Now hush and let me read.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” you chuckled, opening the medical journal he had handed you, flipping through the contents until you found the article title he had mentioned. 

James had a pen in his hand, scribbling down annotations on the side, correcting a few typos and grammatical errors. 

For the most part, he was able to follow along, but at one point, the words became so incoherent he tapped you to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. 

“What does this say here?” he asked. “I-I don’t know if my eyes just stopped working, but what does stirring in sugar and eggs have to do with this trial treatment?” 

“Oh my God,” you grabbed the paper and looked at it closer. “I must have accidentally copied some of my mom’s cookie recipe on here before changing documents. What in the world is going on with me?” 

Maybe it was the exhaustion settling in or some other things James couldn’t quite pinpoint, but he felt himself letting out a chuckle that grew a little longer, and longer until it was a full blown laugh. 

It was an honest mistake, and arguably not that funny, but you’d be hard pressed to convince him of that in that moment, and instead, seeing the silliness of the situation, you joined in.

Eventually, when the laughter died down, you and James both leaning far back against the couch, he turned to you and apologized. 

“I’m sorry, I should probably read this when I have a bit more sanity.” 

“Don’t be,” you patted his leg. “I can always use a good laugh.” 

With your heads still turned to face each other, you suggested to pause the work and resume it another time, to which James agreed. 

You both continued to sit there in silence, looking over at each other and James caught a glimmer of something in your eyes and had to blink a few times to make sure it was still there. It was a soft look, a little dazed, like you were happily daydreaming about something far off. It took him a moment to realize it, since he had been the one giving that look, he’d never really had a chance to see it for himself. 

You had heart-eyes. 

And more importantly, you had them while you were looking at James. 

With a sudden boost of courage, fuelled by lowered inhibitions, he started by asking, 

“Have I ever told you why my friends call me heart-eyes?” 

You tilted your head a little, following his lead and sitting up straight. 

“Wasn’t it because of that girl you had a crush on that was from here?” 

James opened his mouth and then shut it, shaking his head. 

“There was never a girl from Jersey,” he admitted. 

“Why would they say it was a girl from Jersey if there was…” as you said the sentence you slowed down, the realization dawning on you. 

“All the staring makes a bit more sense now?” he asked. 

You blinked a few times, “I just thought you were really awkward,” you said. 

“I was, but if the staring didn’t give it away the blushing really should have done it,” he chuckled. 

“I thought you had a circulation issue!” you exclaimed and James burst out laughing, of course you did. “God, James, why didn’t you say anything?” 

James shook his head, “I could barely string out a coherent sentence when I was around you. Makes it a little hard to say anything.” 

“Makes me wish I had said something,” you said, feeling your own cheeks heat up at the admission. 

“Y-You would’ve said something?” 

Now it was James’ turn to be surprised. 

“I think most of the time it comes on gradually, maybe you won’t even know it at first. That’s what you said to me, but that eventually, if it was love, I’d know it.” 

You reached out and held James’ hands in your own. 

“I should have said something. I could have said something. We could have had so much more-,” 

“James,” you whispered, interrupting him and he stopped. “Shut up and kiss me.” 

James wasn’t going to waste another second, removing his hands from your to instead gently hold your face, bringing you closer to him so he could finally do what he had been dreaming about since he was 18 years old. 

The dim light of his desk lamp, the papers crumpled beneath and around you, the way you moved closer and slid into his lap, his hands now on your hips and your fingers snaking through his hair, it all melted into one and if you let yourselves imagine, just a bit, the lamp became a light in the library; the papers became unfinished homework assignments and lab write-ups, and you hadn’t missed a second of the time you could have spent together. 

Your kisses soon turned slow and repetitive and neither of you wanted to pull away, living in the moment like it was your last. 

“When…did you realize…you loved me?” you asked between kisses, moving away from his mouth, instead letting your lips find their way across his jaw and up to his temple. 

“Our last year of school,” he paused your kisses so he could kiss you properly again. “Carlo said something and-,” he shook his head and sighed. “I realized I was going to leave without you ever knowing how I felt and even though eventually I thought maybe I’d stopped loving you and started to love other people…I just kept trying to fill that space that only you fit in.” 

“First year of my master’s for me,” you rested your forehead against his. “Suddenly you weren’t there anymore and I really wished that wasn’t the case.” 

He tilted his head up to meet you in another kiss that was far too easy to melt into. Neither of you had any complaints and you knew you’d never get tired looking into his heart-eyes.

@cuntyvicodin

[nikki0606]

the letter | Hawks X Reader

oneshot; (wrote it some 3 yrs ago and edited the narration here)

(it was a result for a "write a letter to mha characters" quiz of mine)

.

"Calm down, will you?" Tokoyami says over the phone, "I can not believe it's me of all people who needs to console you."

"Well, it was your idea." you pace your room in stress.

"It was dark shadow's idea." Tokoyami doesn't sound happy at your accusation, "I even warned you against trusting him just like that. His maturity level is down in the drain. That all put aside, I really do think you should relax. Definitely, sensei wouldn't hate you."

"He wouldn't hate me?" you frown and take a deep inhale, "I wrote that guy a love letter and we left it in his office, Tokyo!"

"I do not see how that should make him hate you.. " Tokoyami sounds confused, "Hawks sensei has quite a following, it would only be normal to him if you ended up having feelings for him too. Relax, it's no big deal."

"Oh my God." you clutch your head, "Is this how you're consoling me? I don't know what to do– is there a chance he wouldn't have seen it? I really just want to bring the letter back now."

"Wow." Dark shadow's voice sounds, "That's really spineless of you," you gasp at that, "relax, (Name)-chan. Everything's gonna be fine. If Hawks sensei ignores you, I'll fight him for you."

You pause, "Ignores? You know what, I'll call you and Dark Shadow back later, Tokyo. The both of you are only increasing my anxiety."

"Okay." Tokoyami sighs, "And stop calling me Tokyo."

"No." you hang up right after.

Continuing to pace in the room, you begin to prepare yourself for the worse. It's true Hawks could just ignore you if he gets uncomfortable with the whole thing. If not that, he could just reject your feelings.

After all, he does get thousands of letters per day (though none are found at his table top in his office) and like Tokoyami said, it would be only normal for him to have a little girl crush on him.

You're two weeks away from your birthday and do not at all wish to be crying over his rejection on the day you turn eighteen. 

"It's alright." you try to console yourself, "There's a lot more beauty in this world to cry over just one guy." but it's easier said than done.

No matter how true your words are, they do nothing to ease the way your throat suffocates in anxiety."

Your phone buzzes with notifications on the side and you pick it up to distract yourself with whatever they're from only to find an unknown number having texted you.

__________________________

XXXXXXX

heyy

you really thought you'd 

send him a letter and BOOM

he's into you, huh

haha, bitch

stop daydreaming

look at this 

seriously

stop embarrassing yourself

there's other important ppl

in his life

__________________________

Your brain processes the texts way too slow. Once it does, however, you feel something in your heart shatter.

A picture of Hawks blushing and another of him covering his face combined with the texts you've received explain a lot. 

There's other important people in his life.

It makes sense– you don't know much about his person life. You only know Hawks the hero not the person who he is away from the limelight.

It makes sense, absolute sense, but it hurts. 

"It's okay." you mumble futile and empty words to yourself, one hand making way to your chest and rubbing it hard. The ache lying within overpowers even the peak of control you can exert over yourself.

A tear rolls down your cheek. At this point, you don't even know what else you were expecting.

"I am just another fangirl." you tell yourself, "It's alright. That's what happens, I'm no one special– I barely know about his personal life."

A ding brings in new messages from the same number.

__________________________

XXXXXXX

we've got some things to settle

fifteen minutes from now

on your dorm roof

lets fight

YOU

lets please talk it out

it's nothing serious

I guess I'm just a fangirl

XXXXXXX

ask me if I give a fuck

__________________________

It hurts you to reply this way but this is just the truth.

But how can someone enter U.A.? I don't think non pro heroes would be allowed to enter.

And this thought leads to the rather painful realization that the person texting you might just be Mirko, you know Hawks is good friends with her so there could always be things between them that you aren't aware of.

It's just best to go and talk to her and clear out any misunderstandings. Who knows what sort of ruckus might follow.

You violently rub your teary eyes and swallow hard, "Well then."

There's no one on the roof when you reach there. With a sigh, you walk over to the boundary and lean against it taking in the view of the night at your school.

The suffocating weight on your chest remains constant but the worry about what Hawks would think of you beats it.

It hurts to remember how seriously you had written the letter and poured all of your ehart into it. Now, you only feel like an idiot.

Why the fuck did I even think this was okay?

If you could, you'd make everything go back to before you'd written it. All the worry, all the nervousness and this painful rejection-- you sigh.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

You haven't paid attention to the view until now. At once, you blink focusing your gaze in front. A small smile rises up your face, "It's beautiful." and then you pause.

"You didn't even notice me sneaking up to you." the way too familiar from the snort makes a tsunami of heat crash against your body, you snap your head to where Hawks is leaned to the boundary by your side.

"Hawks." your jaw falls a mile below.

"Yup." he smiled, "I had to come, didn't I?"

On reflex, you look around to see if someone else has come with him but not another soul is around.

"You're.. " you swallow hard, a mountain of shame settling in your face, "Uhm... well.. "

Hawks hums, his face turned towards the school building in view, "I thought I'd just talk to you face to face. I was on my way to Musutafu anyways."

"O-Oh.. ?"

"So you wrote me a letter." there's the tiniest bit of tease in his voice, "You think I'm handsome, eh, (Name)-chan? Boy, I did not know that."

Your face falls into your hands. You wish the earth would swallow you whole.

"Well," he hums a moment later, "I sort of saw the letter in front of Mirko and she urged we should prank you so she took those pictures of me while I was reading the letter. I don't know what she's texted you though. She said you'd be happy to see me in person."

It takes you a while to process the thing about the pictures.

You don't have it inside you to face him anymore but the relief you feel on knowing this was a pranks expresses itself as a sharp exhale.

Hawks' face turns to you again, a sly smirk rising to his face, "You weren't getting jealous, were you? Ahh, I really want to see a jealous (Name)-chan. Your little crush on me makes this so much easier."

With great difficulty, you manage to separate your face and hands and try to lift your head.

"Oh right," Hawks snorts, "it's not a crush, it's love."

"Come on." you whine, turning your face away.

Hawks laughs, "You're adorable, (Name)-chan. Don't you worry, you'll still be on my priority list of little girls crushing on me."

"Look at how proud you are about that." you roll your eyes hysterically, "Shameless chicken."

"Aw, don't you think being mean to me makes me not want to hang out with you?" he dramatizes, "I thought we get careful when we get a puppy crush."

You're honestly just glad he isn't hating or getting creeped out by you.

"You were on your way to Musutafu?" you try to change the topic, "For what?"

Hawks hums a little, his gaze focused on the distantly visible city, "Say, (Name)-chan. You're of age, right? Your birthday was three months ago so you should be eighteen already."

"I am, yeah." your gaze rests on him for a bit- Hawks looks beautiful in the low night light.

He turns to you, "I was coming to Musutafu for this date I have to be on. I realized I should confirm your age outside the school. Nezu looked pretty relaxed when I said I want to visit you so that was relieving."

You blink, "I'm sorry?" there's a darker shade settling on his face now that you focus.

"Takami Keigo." he hums, "That's my real name."

The sudden revelation takes you by surprise, "Oh? I.. wow. That's a nice name."

"Of course," he snorts though there is now something adorably nervous to his voice, "your crush on me makes everything about me nice."

"Other than your personality, yes." you pout, "Look at you insensitively teasing me. Are you wishing to see me cry later?"

"Ne ne, (Name)-chan, you really think I'd let you cry?" he turns you towards himself.

You blink, "H-Huh?"

Hawks smiles nervously, "D'you.. you know.. want to go out with me tonight?"

It takes an eternity for your brain to process it. Once you do, your jaw drop in shock only to tug upwards immediately into a smile.

"What? What.. seriously?"

"Of course." his hand rubs the back of his head, Hawks looks embarrassed, "I-I mean.. it's not important that your crush is one sided.. "

"You like me?" you don't remember when the last time you'd been filled with such pure thrill was. You're basically jumping on your feet.

"If you're going to behave like this, how do you expect me not to?" he pouts and speaks in a small voice.

"Wow." your gaze locks into his, "That's just... "

"Sweet?" his hand boops your nose, "It is. But anyways, should we?" he holds his hand out.

You're about to put your hand onto his put pause, "Has Aizawa sensei allowed you to take me out." you pause, "Shit, I'm not even dressed right." and you continue to freak out more in happiness than in worry.

Hawks chuckles, "You're being pretty reasonable for someone who gets to be with the sexy hot number two." and the sassy reply he expects doesn't come.

You wrap your hands around him instead, "I am."

A gush of red burns his cheeks, Hawks lips part, "Wh-Whoa.. okay." his eyebrows jerk, and his head turns to the side now radiating with heat.

"Shit." you step away from him, "I'm not making you uncomfortable or something, am I?"

"Not at all." Hawks's eyes lock into yours, "That's.. actually leave the date. Let's go to your room and watch a movie or something."

"Boys aren't allowed in our side of the dorm." you make a sad face.

"I'm a man if you haven't noticed." he frowns, "Take me down there, I'll make sure you never miss my manliness again."

Your eyes widen and avert to the side and a buzz rises up your skin. Hawks looks pretty dead set with his little tease and is happy to see the reaction he was expecting.

It's risky sneaking Hawks inside so he sends in a feather first. Thankfully, there's no one in the hallways at this hour.

You let Hawks inside first and enter after securing the area. Little do you realize you've pushed him right into the one wall full of posters of him. You thank yourself for not having pasted hearts or something of the sort around.

"Looks like you have a major crush on this pro hero Hawks." he looks smug but the warm red tint of his ears adds more to the story, "That's so cute."

Your cheeks flare up, "W-Well.. th-there's nothing to hide anymore.. I guess."

Hawks hums, "You'll be knowing me as Keigo no onwards." he leans forward and pulls a poster down, crushes it and throw it to the side.

"What are you doing?" you frown in confusion.

"There's a lot of other things you need space to stick on the walls." he says, "Things about Takami Keigo and not Hawks," a teasing smirk rises up his face again, "and then you can continue to thirst over a sexier side of your hero crush."

You pout and turn away, face now warming up the air all around, "You're so mean, Hawks." there's a silence, "K-Keigo-san.. "

"Good girl." he hums, making all hair on your body rise on their ends, "Try it less formal."

You swallow, "Keigo-kun.. ?"

"Yeah." his hand strokes your cheek, you feel your legs getting weak, "That's more like it, babybird."

"You're literally so mean." your gaze averts to the ground, "Coming all the way here just to tease me.. "

"And maybe also to see you get excited like a little kid when I say it's mutual." he winks, then plops onto your bed, rubbing his face into the pillow.

The thing about the number two pro hero is that the confidence seeps out of all pores in his body. Even if he is shy and nervous, Hawks would unapologetically spread around knowing it would not at all change anything about your feelings for him unless it makes them more intense.

He knows that because he has seen the expression on your face when the two of you would mess around and do weird stuff to annoy Tokoyami (although it was mostly you).

Hawks would have a bigger hand in verbal teasing.

"S-So... " you fiddle with your fingers, cheeks heating up more at the thought of his scent settling onto your sheets. Hawks turns to you.

"Movie?"

"I-If you want to."

"Or maybe we could just.. you know," he playfully winks.

You freeze momentarily, "What... ?"

Hawks snorts, his hand taking his visors and ruffling his hair. He beckons you to come sit with him while taking his shoes and jacket off.

You now find it hard to not stare at his torso.

"Should we have a photoshoot?" he turns to you, eyes full of adoration.

It's too bad that your dirty mind is not able to process anything rationally on being exposed to his biceps now. And it just so happens that you and Hawks are awfully comfortable with teasing and insults on being friends for so long (all thanks to Tokoyami).

That is why the words slip out of your mouth before you can realise, "If you strip, yes."

Hawks blinks, his ears visibly getting a hot shade of red but expressions forced to remain straight, "You really have some wild fantasies about me, babygirl. Tokoyami told me all of them."

You blink, "What?"

He smiles cheekily, "If I strip, you'll lose your head."

"No- Tokoyami did what?"

"Told me some stuff." he hums, "Told me I should get a spine to propose to you but then boom, you send the letter and it gets easier for me."

"He knew you liked me back?"

"Of course he did." Hawks pushes his boots to the side with his foot, "Don't you go getting mad at him," his hands plant on your hips, cheeks blooming red, "this is my payment for this request."

In another second, you're sitting in his lap.

"So, photoshoot." he clears his throat, unable to properly talk now that your body is pressed against his with your adorable eyes looking up at him in shock and embarrassment, "I-I'll use my phone."

[lovesickhughes]

fortnight [ethan edwards x reader]

a/n: hey lovelies !!! AHH this is my first LONG fic and smut piece. please be nice, i am new to writing smut so cut your girl some slack !! i really enjoyed writing this & a big thank you to @homestylehughes for proofreading for me !!! i hope you enjoy and please remember to reblog creators works !! 🫶🏻

summary: i love you, it’s ruining my life

warnings: smut 18+: oral (m&f receiving), fingering, p in v protected sex

word count: 7.9k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it may be an understatement to some, but you loved the back to school season. with the transition into autumn as the environment's colour palette turned from vibrant greens, to warm browns and yellows, you found yourself content as the pumpkin spice and apple pie scents cascaded through the atmosphere.

walking across the campus as the dried leaves crunched underneath you, you mindlessly took in your surroundings, observing your fellow students and seeing the excitement fall upon their faces as new friendships blossomed, and friendships rekindled after spending the last few months back to where their stories were created.

your headphones were plugged in, allowing you to enter a trance of tranquillity, finding all your worries in the world disappear into an abyss. you were relieved, given your last semester, you were faced with an unkind welcoming that most people would question you for being so dismissive of.

ethan edwards, 5’11 defenseman for the university of michigan’s hockey team. enrolled in the same physiology class last term, the pair of you were assigned partners at the start of the semester for your final examination project, which entitled you to countless hours outside of class to be spent together. and maybe that wasn’t something you would complain about initially.

the close proximity your assignment brought upon you, may have been a blessing in disguise, but neither ethan or you were going to be the ones to admit it. the brunette had caught your eye when he entered the classroom shortly after it had begun, looking out of breath as if he had sprinted to the lecture hall. there was no denying you felt your stomach do a summersault when you found your name printed next to his, looking up and meeting his eyes as you followed from where his finger had pointed. and when you first began the foundational stages of the project, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the flutter you felt in your chest when he’d chuckle at something you said, or got caught gazing into your eyes a second too long for anyone to consider there was no chemistry.

as the project unfolded, and you began scheduling times within the week to work on the requirements, you noticed yourself more frequently checking the day and time of the week, anticipating the moment you would meet the brunette again. you mentally frowned upon yourself, he was just another one of your classmates, you questioned yourself, why was he so different than all the rest? 

maybe it was the way he’d wait for you after the class had a quiz or midterm if he finished before you, or would always save you a seat in the classroom, every single class, or even when he copied his notes from the days you missed class from being sick with strep throat.

you had to convince yourself he was just another one of those hockey players. they had that natural charisma, he was used to charming the ladies, society had just instilled that hockey players drew all the attention, and there was just something so intriguing about them.

you had come to realize the impact his hockey commitment had on his academic availability was a bit heavier than you had anticipated, so when he had missed a meetup one week without informing you, he received a lengthy message about punctuality and responsibility, which earned you your favourite drink and dessert as an apology.

you knew hockey players though, you had family immersed in the community and when you began your continuing education, you made a promise to yourself to steer clear of hockey players at all cost. however, that was inevitable, considering UMich had quite the popularity surrounding the NCAA hockey team. you’d hear about the team from your roommates and classmates, about the big win from the night before, or how a player made a stylish play, it’s as though it suffocated you, which led you to think that was the reason ethan left you so entranced by his presence. 

you didn’t want to like him, but your heart cried out to you when there was unexpected rain in the weather forecast, and you ended up arriving to the project meeting drenched by mother nature. ethan immediately rushed to you, asking about what had happened and if you were okay. he insisted that you take his navy blue hoodie that had a yellow “M” embroidered into the front, with his number 73 stitched into the arm. much to your dismay, he pushed past your protests, and forced you to change into the warm, dry piece of fabric, that you hated to admit smelt like the best cologne you could ever imagine. 

you went home that night thinking about all the encounters you had ensued with ethan, and a tiny seed had planted in your imagination, that maybe he was acting in a way that was more than a group-project partner, more than a friend who simply looked out for you. maybe he was different, there were so many questions that raced through your mind when he appeared in your head, that you considered letting your hockey player-driven guard down.

you assumed it was nothing, but when your roommate had caught you smiling at your phone like a mischievous child, and proceeded to interrogate you at who could possibly be taking away this much of your attention, maybe ethan seemed to be more than a group partner to you, and a liking had sprouted in your heart for the hockey player. 

every so often when you would catch his eye in class when the professor was in the depth of the lecture, you would smile to yourself as if one look meant a million more words. ethan was so genuine, in class and out, there was no way he couldn’t be sincere. and when he sent you a message thanking you endlessly for surprising him at his hockey game, the three red hearts that trailed along at the end of the grey text bubble made your heart pound in your chest, wanting to burst.

ethan

y/n!! there’s no way i saw you up in the stands today.. i thought you hated everything hockey?? what changed?

y/n

i was forced against my will. 😐

y/n

i’m kidding, my roommate dragged me out of the dorm and said i needed to experience one of the games, and i guess since i knew someone on the team it made it a bit more exciting to go to

ethan

oh, so when your roommate asks you it’s an immediate yes? 

ethan 

i’ve been asking you for months to come to one of the games!!!

y/n

allie is much more convincing than you are.. 🤷

ethan

seriously tho, it made my night to see you there. and you even got to see me score!!

y/n

it was pretty cool how you did that one move, and i saw you look up after so i knew i had some sort of part in your celebration after 

ethan

hey well what do you say you come to the next game next thursday? i can bring one of my jerseys to our meetup on wednesday for you to wear to the game

ethan

but again, thank you so much for coming to the game y/n. it made my night seeing you there ❤️❤️❤️

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

your semester had come to an end, and ethan and you aced the project, receiving one of the highest grades in the entire class. as a ritual, your fellow students gathered for the end-of-semester party that was held at the hockey team’s shared housing unit. it was only the middle of november when your classes had ended, so you found yourself picking out a black dress that you knew accentuated your body in all the right ways, and would definitely catch the attention of some. 

your friends and you entered the house that held the hockey team, being welcomed to the loud, vibrating sound of music playing all over the inside, the smell of sweat from nerves and dancing, and suddenly becoming aware of how sticky your shoes felt against the hardwood floor as you stepped farther in. 

your roommate allie had found herself reconnecting with another one of her friends from her classes, while your other friend, taylor had already ventured to find the nearest source of alcohol. you scanned the layout before you, seeing the stairs on the left that would lead to the frat houses’ bedrooms, and to your right was the living room where the furniture was pushed to the perimeter of the room to make a makeshift dance floor, while also giving seating for couples and drunk college students to make out, seeing a couple heavily entranced by each other’s mouths while the girl straddled the guy’s lap, you let out a breath, having this be a reminder of why you hated highschool and college parties. 

there was really nothing entertaining about walking in to an occupied bathroom unbeknownst to you because the random strangers were too concerned with where each other’s hands and lips were, or how you had to hyperfixate on the drink in your hand, not knowing who or what could be around you. 

you walked down the hallway, sliding between bodies, mumbling an “excuse me” and placing a soft hand on the backs or shoulders of the students you were passing by. you had turned the corner to which revealed the kitchen you had been searching for to mix yourself a drink, but rather than excitement unfolding, you were hit with a wind so cold and frigid, you almost stumbled back on your feet. 

right before you was the infamous brunette, ethan edwards, leaning forward towards a short unknown figure, having each of his arms on either side of her body, almost trapping her into his embrace. 

you didn’t know why it felt like there was no air to breath anymore, why it felt like your throat was closing up, or why it felt like you were choking on your own throat. you didn’t know why you felt your hands numb or why your stomach dropped rather than somersaulting. you blinked, trying to clear your vision at the sight before you, and you shook your head at yourself, not only because you couldn’t comprehend the sight before you, but also because you knew it didn’t matter that ethan was consumed by the unknown girl. you weren’t talking in that type of way, you weren’t pursuing him, and you most certainly didn’t like him, so why did it matter?

you knew you were in over your head and you felt heat fill in your cheeks in embarrassment at yourself for thinking any of the things ethan had done or said to you were sincere, or that he actually meant any of it. 

to him, you were just another girl that was at his feet giving him attention, another stack on his shoulder to feed his ego, another notch on his belt. you knew it was too good to be true. how could he be any different than all the other hockey players, you just hadn’t seen it coming, being blinded by the thought that maybe this one would prove you wrong. 

you were ashamed, feeling the ache of your heart, heat rushing through your body and the euphoric feeling spreading to the tips of your fingers as it felt like you dissociated from your own self, watching from a bird’s eye view at what unfolded before you. 

you swallow the lump in your throat and blink heavily to avoid any tears spilling from your eyes as you turned to your left to walk around the far side of the kitchen counter. you had found taylor, drink in hand, who was mingling with a girl she had met a few weeks into the semester. you wiped a bright, cheerful expression on your face approaching your blonde friend, who smiled brightly as she opened an arm to you and pulled you into her side.

“y/n! this is chloe, we were just talking about how allie and i had finally convinced you to go to that one hockey game back two weeks ago, she was there, literally right near us and i totally missed her!” taylor exclaimed as she smiled back towards chloe who was leaning against the white kitchen cabinets. you gave her a polite, small smile which she returned, but it was hard to focus with the loud, indistinct voices that echoed throughout the house, and the evident tension in the room as you heard the giggles from the unknown girl below ethan, fighting the urge to look over at the pair.

as they immersed themselves back into their previous conversation, you stood beside the two girls before excusing yourself to prepare a drink. if you were going to have to manage seeing ethan and another random girl mesmerised by his charm, you would need to have some alcohol in your system to make it more tolerable. 

you grabbed a red solo cup from the edge of the island that stood in the middle of the kitchen, and reached for the bottle of spiced rum, adding the liquor into your cup a bit over what a normal amount would be for a cocktail. you shrugged to yourself, as you eyed the amount of alcohol entering your cup, before you set the glass down and begin to walk towards the fridge quickly stopping in your tracks when you were reminded by the sight of the obstacle you would have to avoid in order to make your drink less of a concern to if you were going to down it immediately. 

the unknown brunette was now sitting on the counter with her legs widened enough for ethan to stand between them, his hand clearly on her waist, gripping her sides which you knew would cause a flutter in the girl’s stomach. 

you hesitantly inhale, wanting to make your manoeuver as nonchalant as possible, it would only be easier to forget about ethan being a close distance from you if you didn’t bring attention to yourself, so you emerge towards the fridge, keeping your eyes locked at the metal appliance, and reach to open the right door when a voice stops you in your tracks.

”y/n?” of fucking course. just like everything else with ethan and the timing of how things play out, of course he had to notice you while the unknown girl had her arms draped around his neck. “no way you’re here! what are you doing here?” as he questioned you, you watched with a blank stare as he turned to have his body facing you, and in doing so, let the girl’s arms fall from his shoulders. his eyebrows were raised in surprise and his mouth was held open in excitement, but his response is what shocked you the most, given he seemed to be pretty occupied before. he raised his arms out as if he were to go in for a hug before you shut down his opportunity to brush over what his actions unknowingly did to you. 

“well what would a student who just finished her exams be doing at a frat party?” you asked dryly. ethan’s head jolted back quickly in confusion at your rhetorical question, surprised by your shift in demeanour. 

“i, uh- well, y’know, i’m just surprised to see you, i didn’t know this was your type of scene,” ethan trailed off, stumbling over his words. you hummed in response, giving him a tight-lipped smile with a small squint of your eyes before reaching into the fridge to grab a can of coke to add to your drink that was waiting for you. 

you hummed with a tight lipped smile written on your face, “i���ll see you around ethan,” turning your body away from him and leaving him in a trance. 

closing the fridge door and pivoting on your feet to walk back in the direction of where your drink was, you made sure to keep your eyes in a forward stare, knowing any slight aversion of your eyes would cause the tears that had been pooling to spill. you begin to fill your red cup with the soda, keeping your head down as you felt your emotions rush over you. the sight of ethan close to another girl only caused your stomach to tighten in a knot, resulting in you taking a long swig of your drink, tasting the kick of the extra alcohol fall down your throat. 

this was going to be a long night.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a few hours had passed and the drinks had become significantly more easy to finish in a short amount of time, and you had found yourself conversing with a few students you had recognized from your classes from the previous semester, laughing drunkenly over jokes being made and other remarks, and as you gossiped over your professors, each time your drink had emptied, another was placed in your hand without you having to leave where you were seated. needless to say, when you quietly excused yourself to the washroom, having broken your seal about 30 minutes prior, you felt the buzz erupt through your body as you walked to find the nearest bathroom. 

your head was spinning lightly, so you balanced a hand on the wall as you tried entering the main floor’s bathroom, only to be blocked by the noises you would only assume would be coming from a frat house’s bathroom, so. eager to release the pressure that was filling your bladder, you wandered back towards the stairs that led to the second floor that displayed all of the bedrooms. following what you hoped to be the right path to the bathroom upstairs, you find yourself leaned up against the wall opposite of the closed door, waiting for vacancy. 

taking in your surroundings while you waited, you squinted your eyes to suppress the drunken state you were in and noticed the majority of the doors to the bedrooms were opened, with one at the end on the left being closed. as your gaze lingered down the hallway, you heard the lock of the bathroom unlatch, to which you pushed yourself off of the wall you were leaned against.

and as if your night couldn’t have gotten worse, you stood opposite to the tall, muscular figure, who you wanted no more than to slap across the face for the way he made you feel, whether it was unbeknownst to him or not. 

you rolled your eyes as you watched his expression lighten over his face at the sight of you, and you crossed your arms over your chest, waiting impatiently to enter the room you came for initially.

“y/n! there you are! you disappeared after i saw you in the kitchen- you alright? you seemed kind of off when i talked to you,” ethan spoke in excitement, clearly the alcohol was buzzing through his system as it was yours, causing his bubbly, and overly chipper demeanour. 

you scoffed at his oblivious remark over your previous encounter, trying to dodge a conversation with him and attempting to sneak past his figure, only to be blocked by his reflex to stop your movement, which caused you to lightly bump into his frame. you couldn’t look him in the eye as he spoke to you, knowing that if you did, you would cave and you would forget the sight of seeing him with another girl, and melt at the knees when you held eye contact with him. it happened every time you were with him. it was as if everything around you disappeared into an abyss when you looked in his brown eyes, nothing else being as important as the way he looked at you. and you hated the way that it was an act as simple as eye contact that made your heart warm, your cheeks fill with heat and butterflies to erupt in your stomach. 

ethan reached an arm up to grab onto the side of your arm, causing you to stop your attempt to pass by him, and making you avert your gaze up to where he towered over you, looking down with his infamous soft eyes. you could smell his cologne that you hated because of how much you loved it, and you bit the inside of your lip, stopping yourself from making any impulsive, drunken decisions that you knew you would regret when the alcohol had worn off. 

“nothing’s wrong,” you said blankly, peaking around his body towards the empty bathroom that was calling your name. “come on, let me go, i need to pee.” you urged, shrugging your shoulders in defeat with a slight pout forming on your face. ethan had only grinned to himself without any other words being spoken and he pushed you behind him towards the bathroom as he stepped to the side, and you quickly stepped in, shutting the door behind you. 

you used the washroom as you needed, but before exiting, you peered at your reflection in the vanity mirror, taking a deep breath to compose yourself as the alcohol slowly took over more of your system, making everything feel a slight bit more distorted than normal. you closed your eyes as you reached for the door handle, knowing there was a fifty-fifty chance that ethan would still be waiting on the other side, and much to your dismay, the odds weren’t in your favour as the one and only brunette hockey player was leaned up against the wall you once were standing against, locked into his phone screen as you watched him scroll mindlessly. 

you sneaked past the bathroom door, veering to the side of the wall as you tried to escape another confrontation from ethan, but his awareness overruled as his arm reached out to stop you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him. his pull had been slightly stronger than it needed, so you stumbled over your feet towards him, steadying yourself by grabbing onto his biceps with both of your hands and looking up at him with an unimpressed look as you gathered yourself. maybe the extra liquor added to your drinks wasn’t the best idea after all. 

“so can we talk? or are you gonna keep acting like you’re a criminal trying to escape the police,” ethan lightly chuckled, again looking down at you with the smile that you had grown to adore too much. 

“i’m not avoiding you, ethan,” you argued.

ethan hummed, “i’m pretty sure you are,” he said quieter as he took a step closer to you, “just because the semester’s over, doesn’t mean we have to be.” he said, and you almost choked on your breath. your mouth had slightly opened in shock, taken aback by the words that had just fallen from his tongue.

“w-what do you mean we don’t have to be over?” you awkwardly chuckled, stumbling over your words. maybe it was the alcohol that was clouding your judgement, but you truly did not understand ethan’s intentions.

“all i’m saying is that just because the class we had is over, doesn’t mean we have to stop being friends.” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and once again, the cold air of realization hit you like a brick wall, as you processed his words. you knew you didn’t hear him correctly, you knew there was a misunderstanding, and you knew you were in over your head, yet again. you mentally frowned upon yourself at how stupid you felt in the situation, knowing you probably looked like a fool standing opposite to ethan. 

“right, yeah.” you trailed, looking down towards your feet as you tried to compose yourself, knowing if you dwelled on the current situation, tears would begin to form. “look- i gotta go find my friends, we’re probably gonna head out soon anyway, i- uh, it was nice seeing you i guess. we can keep in touch too, but i know our schedules are both pretty busy.” you said looking back up at the brunette, you gave him a soft, sad smile as you tried to make it seem like your mind wasn’t racing and the utter sadness at the situation wasn’t beginning to fill your body. you turned to head back down the stairs to where the party was still going, but yet again, ethan stopped you in your tracks.

“y/n,” he repeated more sternly, and you hated how your heart ached in your chest, how you wanted nothing more than to scream at him that you were falling for him, but in doing so you hated how it made you feel, you hated how you wanted to kiss him like the world was ending and there was no tomorrow, but if you did, he’d probably turn away. all because of the stupid project that had to be such a large portion of your grade, you had slowly fallen for the boy who occupied every wednesday of your semester. “follow me,” was all ethan said as he took your hand in his, and you felt the texture of his skin beneath your own, how his hands were somewhat dry, but not overly coarse, and how they were warm and encapsulated your own. 

you let ethan guide you down the hallway, as you trailed behind his large figure like you were a lost puppy. he turned the corner into one of the opened bedroom doors, and your eyes widened in shock at what you assumed entering his room meant. you had been in his room before, one of the times you had planned to work on the project and the library had been closed due to maintenance, ethan offered to have the meetup be held at his place. that was the reason you had been familiar with the layout of the house when arriving at the current party.

panic settled in as you watch him reach behind you to close the door, and your eyes followed as he walked towards his desk, silently reaching into the third drawer on the desk and pulling out what looked to be a picture. your brows pulled together in confusion as he turned back to where you stood, close to the door with your hands fiddling with each other as you anticipated what he had to show. 

he reached out to pass you the print, and you met his eyes again for reassurance that it was okay to take it from him, to which he nodded in encouragement. you took it in your hands, and looked down only to see that it had been a picture of you in his team hoodie, the day that you had been rained on, with your hair wet, makeup slightly smudged. you stood opposite of him, with the hoodie engulfing your frame making you look much smaller compared to ethan’s larger frame. you smiled at the picture, but were only even further confused as to why he had it, so as you hand it back to ethan, you look up in confusion, only to see a small blush forming on his cheeks. 

“i know it’s kinda creepy to just have this picture of you, but you looked so cute in my hoodie and that day we had together, was probably one of the best days i’ve had all year, maybe even the best day since i first got here.” ethan shyly explained, making your gaze soften as you watched him explain. 

“yeah, i remember that day, it was one of my favourites.” you responded softly, smiling to yourself as you reminisced. but before you grew too distracted by his romantic act, you came quickly to remember how you felt when you first arrived, conflicting your feelings as you stood in ethan’s room. there was a silence that was held between you two, and you didn’t know what to say, and you knew it would probably be best if you didn’t open your mouth to speak, knowing you would most likely regret what words formed. ethan placed the picture back on his desk, before placing himself on the edge of his bed, clasping his hands together, and you stayed put where you were standing, watching him before you.

“come,” ethan gestured to the mattress beneath him, patting the spot next to him for you to sit. 

“i don’t think that’s a good idea.” you responded quickly, allowing your blunt and cold facade to take over yet again. “really, i should probably go find my friends, they're gonna think i got kidnapped or something.” you awkwardly laughed. taking a step backwards closer to the door as you tried to escape, 

“oh, come on,” ethan whined, throwing his head back in protest. “don’t make me come over there and make you sit on my bed.” he warned. you rolled your eyes yet again in annoyance at how easily convincing he was, and you took the few steps forward to reach his bed, and ethan scooted himself over to the side to give you more room. 

“what’s up?” ethan asked quietly, the close proximity between the two of you becoming more evident as you were now sitting shoulder to shoulder in his bedroom. it intensified every thought and feeling you had run through your body. you noticed his eyes were hooded from the alcohol, his hair looked freshly washed and you could see his silver chain slightly peeking out from the collar of his crewneck hoodie. you took in his appearance slowly, before meeting his gaze that had already landed on you, looking into your eyes with a soft, alluring gaze. 

“i said nothing’s wrong, ethan.” you exclaimed, letting out a breath as you grew more annoyed with his persistence. you didn’t want to let your guard down, you couldn’t. not while you were in his room, drunk, at a party. 

“that’s bullshit, come on, you’ve been off since i first saw you.” ethan countered, and you then felt the weight of his hand being placed on the middle of your thigh, immediately making your breath shift into slower, more heated breaths. you looked down at the hand on your exposed leg, becoming aware that the fabric of your black dress had slowly rode up your thighs. you then met his gaze, again, as he was still maintaining eye contact with you. 

“ethan,” you pushed, not wanting to continue the conversation any longer than it had already been happening, you sighed and began to stand up to leave, but you were prevented from doing so as his hand pushed against your thigh to keep you placed on his bed.

“y/n,” was all he responded. 

your eyes darted to the side, contemplating whether or not you would cave, before letting go another breath, “okay, look-” you began before you stopped yourself, wanting to find the correct words to describe your feelings. if you had finally decided to have the conversation you had envisioned every night before going to bed, you wanted it to be relatively similar to the way you had planned it to be. although, you didn’t expect it to be happening at the actual moment it now was. 

“fuck,” you mumbled under your breath, looking down into your lap, but was quickly guided to continue looking into ethan’s eyes by his hand that had slipped under your chin and tilted your head up. “i’m confused.” you blurted, no other words coming to mind as you looked at ethan with an expression of confusion and distraught written over your face.

ethan paused before responding, “why?”

“because of this!” you gestured between your bodies that were inches away from each other. “i come to this party against my will, because we both know i hate this type of scene, and low and behold, i come to find you invested in some random girl i’ve never seen before, with her hands all over you, and i can only assume what words were being exchanged.” you said in a single breath, your chest heaving as you explained your dilemma to the brunette in front of you. 

ethan went to his open his mouth to justify his actions, but you beat him to it, “no, you don’t get to say anything,” you pointed with your index finger, “and then when all i need to do is pee, god forbid i run into you and you end up showing me a picture you’ve been hiding in your drawer and you look at me in a way that makes me feel so weird!” you rushed, your brows furrowing in your own confusion as you spoke.

“y/n, i’m lost, what are you trying to say?” ethan said softly, looking at you with his own brows stitched together in confusion.

this was it, this was the moment you’d confess your secret to the man who had occupied your brain 24/7. the one you thought of immediately when you did well on an assignment, and the one you would stand in the freezing arena every game to watch him play. the one you pictured yourself with when your friends and you gushed over the desire for a relationship. the one you searched for in a crowd of people at a school event, and the one you wanted nothing more than to be with. 

“i love you, okay?” you bursted, slightly raising your voice with your face strained, “and it’s ruining my life.” you said as you ran a hand over your face to wipe away the hair that had obstructed your view, “and it killed me to find you here with another girl, and having to imagine myself going onto the next semester and not having you in my life.”

your chest continued to heave up and down, out of breath as you admitted to your internal conflict, and you searched in ethan’s eyes for a response. he was silent for a moment, his eyes darting from side to side as he collected his thoughts. you inched forward on the bed as a way to encourage him to say anything, but the longer the silence settled, the more you began to regret your sudden confession. as you went to place your head in your hands with your elbows resting on your knees, ethan’s mouth opened. 

“are you drunk?” was all he asked, but given the amount of time you had spent in ethan’s room, and your body trying to compose yourself, you hadn’t felt the effects as strongly as before. 

you shook your head, “if i am, drunk words are sober thoughts.” you chuckled to yourself. 

“in that case, are drunk actions, sober thoughts?” he asked quieter, and you tilted your head in confusion, not being given a moment to process his words before you felt his hand reach for your jaw and lightly pull you in to meet his lips. 

your mouths connected, and you inhaled sharply at the contact, melting into his touch as you adjusted yourself to face more towards his figure, you reached your arm to rest on his shoulder. ethan held your cheek in his hand, with his fingers reaching the nape of your neck to pull you in closer, and your body went weak, quickly to be supported by ethan’s free arm reaching around your back. 

he pulled away, lips swollen from the contact, and his chest rising and falling rapidly. you looked up at his with doe eyes, wetting your lips without saying any words being said, and he reached back down to connect your lips again, his arm around your back sliding to your side to take hold on your waist. he pulled your body closer to him as a wordless action to adjust your position, and with your eyes closed and lips still mangled, ethan pulled you farther on the bed, and leaned your figure back to where he now hovered over your body with your back against the mattress. 

he detached his lips again, breathing heavily with his chain dangling over your face, you stared up at the sight before you, “should we really be doing this?” you questioned softly, gripping his forearm with your hand. 

ethan sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, “i’ve been wanting this for a while, and trust me this is not how i envisioned this happening, but i can’t hold out any longer,” he confessed, and before you can say anything in response, he delved back in, placing a kiss on your jaw near your ear, the sound of his wet mouth suctioning your skin made your entire body erupt in euphoria, and caused you to squirm underneath him. he trailed his wet, sensual kisses along your jawline as your hand found itself intertwined with his soft, brunette hair. he continued kissing down your jaw onto your neck, sucking slightly on your skin, as his arm held the weight of his body over yours. he looked up at you, with pleading eyes to adjust the strap of your dress, and without words you allowed him to move the fabric to the side, but in your own confidence, you sat up and lowered the dress to your waist, exposing your black lace bra you had worn underneath. 

ethan took in the view, sighing in delight at your figure before him, and he leaned back down to continue his mission to cover every inch of your skin with wet, slow kisses. your hands found themselves interlocking behind ethan’s neck as he kissed your collarbone, and he looked up to your face with his eyes only, silently asking for permission to remove the piece of clothing that restrained your breasts. you nodded and lifted your back to allow for his hand to reach beneath you and unclasp the lingerie, freeing it from your body as he pulled it off of you. immediately his hands fell to your chest, cupping his large hands over your front and kneading your breasts as if they were dough. 

your head fell back in pleasure at the contact of his mouth to your nipple, as he curled his tongue around the sensitive end. your hand tugged at his hair, arching your back in desperation for more. 

ethan looked up at you yet again, and you reached forward, guiding ethan to stand on his knees, grabbing the end of his crewneck hoodie and pulling the fabric upward over his head, revealing his toned, broad figure. you mentally gawked at the sight and looked up at him as he towered over you, with your face being perfectly aligned with his waist. 

you held eye contact with him as you reached for the waistband of his pants, noticing the growing bulge that began to protrude against his pants. you slipped a finger into the space between his body and the pants, gliding it along his v-line before tugging at his bottoms to expose his lower half. he had quickly stood up off of his bed to remove his pants, and while doing so, you shimmied out of your black dress, letting the clothing fall to the floor beside his bed, leaving you in nothing but the matching underwear to your top. ethan then climbed back on the bed, on his knees like prior, and you took in the sight of his bulge beneath his underwear, constraining the fabric and tauntingly wanting to be freed.

you looked up at ethan who watched your every move intensely, and then averted your gaze to the sight before you. you slowly grabbed the waistband of his boxers on each hip and pulled the fabric down, releasing his cock to be free as it sprung up, throbbing in anticipation to find a release.

your mouth practically salivated at the sight, and you instantly reached a hand to wrap around the base of his cock, feeling the warmth beneath your hand. stroking your hand twice up and down the length of ethan, you heard him groan above you, as he reached a hand to steady himself on your shoulder. 

you adjust yourself beneath him, looking up to reach his eyes with your own and his bottom lip was tucked under his top row of teeth as he watched you take his cock in your mouth. you slowly wet his length and pushed your mouth farther down and closer to his stomach, until your eyes began to water, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. 

you pulled back slightly and quickened your pace as you began to bob your head along his length, ethan throwing his head back and gripping the back of your head softly in response. he held you there as he attempted to hold himself together, fighting the urge to release at that moment.

“fuck, y/n,” he breathed, holding your head closer to the rest of his body for a moment hearing the noises of your mouth taking every inch of his cock, as you slightly gagged on his member. you release him from your mouth with a small ‘pop’, and grin at ethan’s flushed face. he began to compose himself before he pushed you backwards until your head met the pillows of his bed and his face was inches away from your stomach. he maintained eye contact, which in response evoke an incline of your breath, chest heaving up and down as you grew impatient for ethan to make some sort of move to aid your frustration. 

ethan looked at you with concerned eyes, in a way to silently ask you if he was allowed to continue and you eagerly nodded your head, your hips buckling upwards anticipating any sort of stimulation. 

ethan flip the waistband of your underwear under his finger and dragged it over your hips and swiftly pulled the fabric off of your legs, tossing the piece to the side and focusing his attention back at the sight before him. his hands immediately found the inner space of your thighs, lightly rubbing the soft skin with his calloused hands, his tongue running over his bottom lip in hunger and desperation to delve into the lust. 

“god, you’re perfect, y/n,” ethan mumbled, but before any other words were exchanged, he pushed your legs softly to the side, exposing your core and his head leaned into your body, immersing himself in you and suffocating himself with the taste of you. you moaned at the contact, your hips caving at the contact. ethan continued to stimulate your clit, his tongue lapping over the skin between your legs. your hand found his hair, tugging the brown locks in pleasure, and biting your lip to restrain yourself from making too loud of noise. 

ethan moaned against your body, sending vibrations through your body, almost sending you over the edge, earning a whimper to escape from your mouth. 

“oh my god, ethan,” you whined through gritted teeth as ethan held your legs down to the side with his arms and your hips bucking at the pleasure. he pulled away, the missing feeling making you crave more to put you over the edge, your legs bent up to the rest of your body as you watched ethan hold eye contact with you, reaching to his side table drawer and pulling out a condom. 

you watched before you as he slipped it on, his body coming to hover on top of yours and aligning his cock with your entrance. your hands found themselves gripping onto his shoulder, and you bit your lip as ethan began to lower himself into you, the pressure causing your eyes to flutter shut. ethan went slow, no words being exchanged other than the wordless eye contact that was held between ethan and you, and when he bottomed you out, your mouth fell agape, causing ethan’s own mouth to fall open in pleasure. 

his movements began slow, thrusting in and out, watching as your body responded in sync to his moments, and as it became more comfortable, ethan earning a nod from you to quicken his pace, your mouth hung open, small whimpers escaping as each thrust was complete. 

ethan’s one hand remained by your head, lowering himself onto his elbow to inch closer to your face, while his other hand was placed on your hip, tightly gripping your skin as he continued to thrust harder and deeper into you. 

“fuck, ethan, yes,” you moaned as he hit the right spot to cause an eruption of pleasure through your entire body, you felt the knot in your stomach begin to tighten when his hand on your hip reached between your legs to rub circles on you clit, and your moans sounded in sync with his thrusts, the sounds of two bodies erupting in pleasure filling the room.

“god, you’re so tight, y/n,” ethan moaned in response, his eyes squinting shut in concentration as he held himself together, your hands pulled at his neck, bringing his face to yours and your lips meet his, tightly interlocked as his thrusts still moved your body beneath him. 

you could tell ethan was reaching his own climax, his determined thrusts becoming more and more sloppy, and his breath shaking against your lips. his fingers kept rubbing on circles on your clit, determined to bring you to orgasm, and when you adjusted your hips slightly, allowing for ethan to hit a deeper, more pleasurable spot in your body, the noises that came out of your mouth in response caused ethan to release into the condom, his own moans filling your mouth as his thrusts came to a halt and you felt the pressure hit your walls as he filled the condom with his cum. determined to bring you to your own climax, ethan’s fingers still worked their efforts on your clit, bringing his free hand to your mouth, trailing over your bottom lip, awaiting entrance. 

his middle finger slipped into your mouth, and instinctively you sucked on the member, watching ethan look at you in amusement. when his finger was lubricated to his liking, he reached to your sex, running his finger along your folds to collect the wetness before pushing his finger in, immediately curling his finger towards him. 

with both hands in action to put you over the edge, you raised your arms above your head in pleasure, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten even closer to being released. 

“yes, ethan, just like that,” you moaned when ethan fastened his pace.

he hummed in response, “yeah? is that what you want, babe? you want to cum for me?” ethan asked softly, holding eye contact as his fingers worked magic against you. your eyes closed in pleasure, your head slightly tilting back, and when ethan slipped a second finger into your sex, and pulled his fingers in and out while maintaining curling inside, a loud moan escaped your mouth as you felt the knot come undone in your stomach, your legs shaking lightly as you rode out your orgasm. 

your breath uneven, a grin erupted on both of yours and ethan’s faces, as he reached for his boxers and your matching set of undergarments, helping you put on the pieces of fabric, and quickly slipping under his covers. you follow suit, and find yourself curling up against his figure, your head resting on his chest, listening to his heightened heart rate. 

ethan pressed his lips against the top of your head, “you really meant all those words from before?” he questioned, earning a giddy smile from you as you looked up to meet his gaze.

“and a thousand more.”

[formulaforza]

miss americana and the heartbreak prince

—08. It's So Sweet —word count: 5.2k —warnings: none :) love, mackie... um... yeah. yeahhhh. sorry sorry sorry if you still read this fic. surprise I guess! its NOT as dead as you thought it was. See you guys again in four months. hopefully sooner if there is a God.

Charles, teeth dug into his tongue so hard he can taste copper, manages to keep from slipping up for the remainder of his time in Georgia. He swallows it down, chokes on an I love you everytime she looks at him for days that feel like an eternity. 

The flight out to France that marks the end of his stay had spent weeks serving as a dreadful backmarker, but now it was one of solace, saving him from himself. He knows better than to spit out “I love you” two months in. He knows better, but he also knows. Simple as that. He just knows. 

He’s good at keeping it down during phone calls and voice memos and FaceTimes because there’s no fucking way he’s stupid enough to say it over the phone. Whenever he does finally deem the time to be right, it’ll be inches from her face, with all the time in the world ahead of them. Her smile will be there, just waiting to be kissed. 

It definitely will not be while she’s grading papers or reviewing a movie or putting purple refills in her pen, even though he finds himself thinking just how plain and simple he loves her when she’s doing those things. 

– – –

Charles spends the holidays with his family in France, coming pretty much directly from his time with Chris and her family in Georgia. 

They quiz him like there’s no tomorrow about all of it; on Chris, and her family and her city and her life. He thinks he does a half-decent job at keeping his cards close to his chest; hiding his tells and acting completely normal and regular and plain about it all. 

Well. He can be coy and secretive to everyone but his mom. Mother’s always know when their sons are in love, and Pascale has always been particularly apt at seeing straight through her boys and the bullshit they try to feed her. 

He’s helping with dinner dishes—working hard to get those extra points towards being the favorite son this weekend—when she confronts him about it. He knows he’s in trouble. He’s never been able to lie to her in a way that was even sort-of convincing. 

“So, Chris…” she hums, drying three two forks at once with a damp towel. “Is this going to be something?” She asks. Charles shrugs, squeezing more blue dish soap onto the plate in his other hand. “That’s too much,” she remarks. 

He ignores the comment, moves the scrubbing sponge over the plate in small circles. “It’s new, still.”

“But you like her?”

He chuckles. Of course he likes her. He wouldn’t be dating her, traveling to see her, introducing her to his family if he didn’t at least like her. That’d just be cruel. “I like her a lot,” he says. I like her the most, he bites his tongue. He rinses the soap from the plate. 

Pascale nods, soft smile on her lips when she takes the plate from his hand, drying it carefully. “Just like, is that right, Charles?”

He knows what she means, what she’s implying. They both know she’s right, too, but he can’t stand to admit it. He feels like if he does, if he actually speaks the words out loud, there’s no way he’s going to be able to keep it in anymore. It’ll be breaking the seal, and he can’t. Not yet. He doesn’t have it in him yet. “Maman,” he says, and his tone is laced with her answer, soft and sweet and pleading in a desperate way. 

She smiles, sets the plate down onto the counter gently. It still clatters against the marble. “I know,” she hums, hand finding his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

Charles spends New Year’s Eve in London. He’s with his brothers and his friends and like, all of their girlfriends. He’s been pathetically texting her the entire trip going on about i’ll buy your ticket if you want to come and it would be so much more fun with you here.

What Charles doesn’t know is that Chris is on her way, and that she’d been planning the surprise with Joris for three weeks. After a red eye flight from Atlanta that lands a little before two in the afternoon in London, Joris manages to sneak off from the group to meet her at the hotel and give her a key to his room. She hides out there for most of the afternoon while Joris tries to convince the group to head back to the hotel for a few hours without spoiling the surprise of why they should go back to the hotel in the middle of the day. 

When he finally gets them back to the hotel, he waits fifteen minutes to text her the all clear, to let her know that she can come and execute the surprise. 

It takes her an almost comical amount of time to find his room, considering it’s in the same hallway as everyone else’ rooms, and only ends up being three or four doors down from where she’d started. When she finally finds it, she’s hit with a sudden wave of anxiety. 

What if he doesn’t want me here? She worries. Her hands get clammy and she stands there in front of the door like a complete idiot just waiting for her body to do something, to do anything. Finally, she brings her fist to the door and knocks. 

Voices are muffled and heavy feet shuffle on the other side of the door before finally, after what feels like an eternity of loud bickering from the boys about who’s going to open the door, Chris is face to face with Charles, stupid, toothy grin on her face. “Oh,” he says. 

Behind him, the guys jeer in French, but neither of them are paying any attention. Chris can't stop laughing, standing there, staring at Charles in the doorway. He stares right back, his eyes a window into the gears that turn behind them, processing… processing… processing so incredibly slowly. “Are you gonna hug me, or just stare at me?” She finally asks, and he laughs, snapping into reality, pulling her into a tight hug. 

“What are you doing here?” He questions, pressing a hard kiss into her hair, and then he laughs even harder. “How did you get here?”

– – –

Chris isn’t there for more than a couple days—she has to be back at work as winter break winds to a close, and Charles has training camp in Italy at the end of the week. It’s a quick visit, but they make the most of it, and they do get their new year’s eve kiss. 

It’s been, like, a month and a half since Chris was last in Monaco, but it’s been just two and a half weeks since someone posted a TikTok of Charles and her walking around Monte Carlo together. That means, it’s been two weeks of Chris stumbling upon, and falling down rabbit holes of, Charles’ fan accounts desperately trying to put a face to the back of the head of the girl in the video. 

She’s less interested in are they going to figure out who I am and more interested in are they at least, like, close? The answer is no. No, they are not even kind-of close to connecting Chris with him. It’s all models and friends and people he follows on Instagram and even one ex-girlfriend, but definitely no American kindergarten teachers. 

The fire is only fed, though, when on New Year’s Eve, drunk on Moscow Mules and equipped with the world’s most fashionable LED glasses, Charles is posted showing off the look. Under his arm, equally as drunk off espresso martinis, is Chris, engaged in conversation with Joris beside her. 

It’s been two-thousand twenty-three for fifteen minutes, and Instagram explore pages across the world are already filled with pictures of the side of her head and Charles’ goofy heart-eyed glasses.

Chris is too drunk to know, much less care, but when she does find out about it, she won’t be bothered. She thinks that maybe she never will be a big deal—certainly not as big of one as he seems to think it is. Nothing is going to happen, she tells him so many times it doesn’t even sound like a sentence anymore. Who cares if everyone figures out who I am?

January isn’t much but settling into a routine. They’re both busy with a million and one different things—just a little peek into any sort of future they hope to have together—and it’s the end of the month before they see each other in person again. 

Every post he makes on social media—every video, photo, story, mention, and repost is run through a microscope, carefully dissected searching for a repeat like and commenter, for an unfamiliar woman’s voice or a hand or a coat or a head of hair. Names fly around in a tornado of guesses, and none of them are correct. 

It’s an easy routine to fall into; scheduled phone calls, FaceTime dates twice a week, and sneakily sent texts in the middle of the workday. Sometimes it feels like they aren’t all that far apart, like he could walk out the front door and get into his car and drive for fifteen minutes and be at her house, eat dinner at the same table, fall asleep at the same time, in the same bed. Other times, they can feel every step of the four-thousand, six-hundred, ninety-five miles that separate them, when it’s all pictures of dinner and goodmorning texts seen three hours later and delayed, laggy FaceTime calls. 

It’s on one of those calls, where her face is frozen mid-conversation, that she’s gushing about how excited she is for some school event at the end of the month, the Art show, she’d called it, and when—after sorting out the camera issue for the time being—he’d asked for clarification on what exactly an Art show is, she’d explained the whole event with a big, excited smile on her face. 

“Oh my gosh!” She’d laughed, pulling her legs underneath her. “Okay, so, it’s the coolest thing. Basically, the art department displays all of the art the students have made so far this year all throughout the year, and the kids get to show it off to all their family. They set up a book fair in the library, and they serve ice-cream in the cafeteria,” she explains, “All the teachers go, and they bring their families, too,” she nods. “It’s really cool. I like to see how proud the kids are of their work.”

He decides then, in that very moment, that he doesn’t want to hear about this in text messages and photos and Facetime calls. He wants to be there—feel her energy, her pride, her smile. It just pours out of his mouth, what if I came? And then, before she can even come up with a response, If that’s okay, obviously. If you even would like, want that, you know. 

She bites down on a smile. “I thought you wanted to keep things quiet?” she chuckles, “be all protective of me and stuff?” 

Charles shrugs. “I don’t think anyone would believe I’m at a primary school’s art-fair in the middle-of-nowhere America.”

“I mean, I don’t care,” she explains, tucking her bangs behind her ears. “But you do. I’d love it if you could be there.”

He smiles. “You’d love it?”

“I would!” She laughs, leaning forward, closer to the camera. “You’d better come for more than just a day though,” she continues, slumping back against the couch behind her, picking at the cuticles on her thumb, raising her brows when she quietly adds: “I can think of lots of other things I’d love to do with you.”

He shakes his head, dimples digging into his cheeks. “You’re a tease, Christyn,” he taunts, and her head shoots up from her cuticle. 

“You have such a dirty mind, Charlie!” she laughs, and his cheeks burn at the nickname, at the accusation. 

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, and she only laughs harder, smiles bigger. 

“Why?” She teases, crossing her arms over her chest, cocking her head to the side playfully.  “Because it makes you blush?”

– – – 

There’s really only one of Chris’ students that Charles knows by name: Quinn. Or, as Chris usually refers to her, my sweet, sweet, little Quinnie. Quinnie is not at the art show. Chris goes on to explain that she and her family are  never at any of the school events—no open houses, no field trips, no choir recitals or art shows or parent teacher conferences. If it’s not a free event that takes place during school hours, neither Quinn or her siblings will be there, and their Mother will never be there because she’s always at work. 

So, no Quinn to win over. He does, however, meet what may be the cutest kid he’s ever been face-to-face with in Landry, a little girl with two long brown braids and a strawberry patterned dress on. Landry is the first of her students to find their teacher, and completely ignores him to tug Chris’ arm towards the little girl’s artwork hung in the hallway. 

“I’ll be right back,” she says hurriedly, over her shoulder, letting the little girl pull her away. Charles nods and flashes her a quick wink before she’s properly whisked away, leaving him with nothing better to do than shove his hands deep in his pockets and analyze the artwork of primary school students. 

When she finds him again, no Landry in tow, she links her arm through his, leaning her head against his shoulder. “She told me I have a cute boyfriend,” she says.

“No, she did not,” He laughs, but his ears blush pink. 

“She did,” she nods. “She said you were ‘oh my goodness he is soooooo cute,’” Chris repeats, in a sing-songy tone. “I said, ‘I know right! He’s the cutest.’”

“Whatever,” Charles mutters, running his other hand through his hair. “Where’s the ice-cream at, anyway?”

Two styrofoam bowls of vanilla ice-cream slices—one covered in rainbow sprinkles, the other with chocolate syrup and a maraschino cherry—later, and Chris and Charles are sitting at Chris’ desk in her classroom, him in the green spinning chair, her on the desk itself. 

Two boys, who Chris refers to after they leave the room as Nash and Wyatt, are bouncing off the walls with excitement when they turn the corner into Chris’ classroom, their faces lighting up when they find her there. “Miss Elliott!” One of them shouts, half-out of breath. “The book fair has posters of your brother!” He explains. 

“Yeah!” The other chimes in. “I see-ed it when my sister was getting a poster of,” he takes a big breath, “of, uh, a princess poster or something.”

“Yeah, and I get-ted this one!” The first kid adds, unrolling the paper in this hand to reveal a black and white Fortnite poster, demonstrating the dances from the game. “Cool right?” He asks, and Chris nods. 

“So cool!” She says, “where are you going to hang it?” 

Charles leans back in the chair, spinning slightly side to side, eating his ice-cream and just observing the interaction. 

“Um, probably in my bedroom.”

Chris nods again, “perfect place for it,” she agrees. 

– – – 

He’s in Georgia for three days; Friday to Sunday, and spends all of it with Chris, almost entirely at her house. The art show is on Friday night, but he finds himself playing sleepover host with Chris on Saturday when Reid appears with a backpack, a pillow, and a baby blanket Chris tells him not to refer to as a baby blanket. 

Chase is racing in Los Angeles this weekend, and left town on Tuesday, leaving Hannah alone on Mom duty. That would be all fine, if the weekend didn’t fall on the one weekend a month she works. Bill, Cindy, Chris, and Hannah’s mom have been helping to pick up the slack left in Chase’ absence. 

It all comes together to result in him sitting in the middle of the living room, on the floor, surrounded by every blanket and pillow in the entire house on a Saturday night—a four-year-old boy sitting across from him, hanging on his every word, and his girlfriend in the other room making popcorn. 

He’s been tasked with coming up with, and executing the plan for a super, super, cool boy-fort that Auntie Chris can come into, I guess. 

A fort that fits into that description is a lot easier in theory. In Practice, however, he’s faced with the nephew he desperately needs the approval of, and a pile of purple and pink and sparkly and fluffy blankets and pillows. 

It takes all four of the dining table chairs, a curtain rod from the screened-in porch, a fitted sheet, and a box fan, but the fort is quickly commissioned, and gets Reid’s stamp of approval when he moves his pillow, favorite blanket, and definitely not a baby-blanket, baby-blanket into the build. 

Chris is behind them momentarily, knocking on the seat of one of the dining chairs before Reid permits her to enter. She crawls in, laptop and big bowl of popcorn in either hand. Reid is sandwiched between the two of them, Cars blanket covering his little frame, eyes glued to the screen while buttery fingers bury themselves in the popcorn bowl. 

Reid is asleep about five minutes after the popcorn bowl is empty, Chris running her fingers through his short brown hair while soft little snores leave his lips. Her head rests on his pillow, just above his head, and she watches the movie. Charles watches her, arm propped up at the elbow, holding his head up. She’s so soft. So sweet. It ties him up in knots. 

He feels like a child when she catches him staring, her eyes glancing over to him and making unexpected contact. His cheeks burn and his eyes dart away, back to the screen, to the movie. She giggles softly, barely loud enough for him to hear over his sudden mortification.  “Beautiful fort you’ve built here,” she says, and he looks back at her, meets her eyes properly this time. 

“Thank you,” he chuckles. “I’m thinking maybe I will make it my new career after racing.” Charles nods. Chris nods. A smile dances its way across her lips, turning the corners up gently. It makes him smile, too. “Charles Leclerc: Professional fort builder.”

“Oh,” She chuckles. “I can hear it now. You’ll be a household name.”When Charles wakes up, credits are rolling on the laptop screen and Chris’ hand is moving softly over his shoulder. He’s the bridge of his nose and picking the sleep out of his eyes and trying to get his bearings. All he’s sorted out so far is that Chris is here, he’s fucking boiling, and there’s a sleeping kid between them. He squints his eyes—like the dim light from the black credit screen is too bright for him—until she comes into focus. She points to the exit of the fort. “Bed,” she mouths.

“Well,” Chris shrugs, bringing a forkful of salad to her mouth. “I think you’ve won Reid over.”

Charles laughs on her phone screen. He’s in Italy… or Monaco… or… she’s not really sure, to be honest. It’s hard to keep track sometimes, when he’s always somewhere new. He’s in bed, wherever he is, the lamp from her kitchen casting the only light in his dark room. “Is that right?”

“Oh yeah,” she nods. “I had the pleasure of  reminding him you weren’t here this afternoon. He wasn’t happy with me.” She remembers it well, his declaration that Charles and Me are going to play games today, and remembers better the little, defeated oh, right after she had to remind him Charles had left the day before. 

Charles chuckles, shaking his head and rolling his eyes playfully. “I told him goodbye!”

“I know!” She says, taking another bite, her hand covering her mouth while she talks around the lettuce. “He thought you meant goodbye for the day,” she explains, swallowing. “Not goodbye for a while.”

Charles frowns. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Chris laughs, poking her fork around her bowl. “I love that he likes you so much, it’s adorable,” she hums. “He’s absolutely devastated you won’t be at his birthday party, though.”

Charles scoffs, his mouth dramatically falling open. “No way. You didn't tell me it was his birthday!”

“Because it’s not for like, two weeks!” She defense, laughing. “I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“When is it?”

She cocks her head to the side, already knowing what he’s about to say, and unscrews the top of her water bottle. “His birthday’s the sixteenth, but the party is the eighteenth.”

“I’ll be there.”

“No you won’t. You have testing.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah,” she insists. “On Monday you have to be in Bahrain.”

“Monday is not Saturday.”

Chris doesn’t tell anyone outside of Chase and Hannah that Charles is flying in, and they definitely don’t tell Reid about it, just in case it falls through for any of the million reasons it could possibly fall through because of. 

It was a last minute-trip, after all, and it seems like every second of Charles’ time is accounted for right now, so  Chris is prepared at any moment to get a text or a call apologetically explaining that he got pulled into something else. That call never comes, and she picks him up from the airport late Friday night, just in time to bicker in the middle of a liquor store about wine. 

“Absolutely not, baby.” He says, shaking his head, a truly horrified look on his face. 

“You don’t even drink wine!” She insists, holding a three-liter box of Franzia. “This is perfectly fine.”

His eyes go wide, brows raising like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “It’s in a box.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s for a fifth birthday party.”

“It’s not for the five-year-old,” he argues, picking two bottles of overpriced chardonnay from the shelf. “We’ll get these.”

– – – 

Much to the dismay of the other, they show up to the party the next afternoon with one box and one bottle. 

Reid is upstairs playing with some kid that Chris is related to somehow, she’s sure, so their arrival goes unnoticed by the birthday boy. Instead, Chris is heaving the box of wine onto the kitchen island, greeting a visibly stressed Hannah with a hug. Charles follows closely behind, setting his bottle down next to her box, following the hug train to Hannah. 

“Look great, as always, Hannah,” He says, and Hannah laughs. 

“I’m a mess, the house is a mess. Reid,” she looks to Chris, “Lord have mercy on me, your nephew has dressed himself.”

Chris scowls, and then shrugs. Charles laughs. “He can be Chandler’s nephew, today,” she says. 

“He’s still your godson, though,” Hannah reminds. 

“Oh, don’t I know it!”

Charles takes Chris’ coat with his own, hands them both up in the mud room that’s just off the kitchen. He hears Hannah calling for Reid while he does it, telling him to come down and say hello to your auntie. Auntie Chris. He loves the way Reid says it—Annie Chris—or, when he really wants to stir some shit up, which Charles has come to learn is just about all of the time, Reid will call her Miss Elliott. 

Everyone hears him before they see him, little feet making heavy noises as they hurry down the stairs so quickly he might as well have just jumped off the landing and tuck’n’rolled his way into the kitchen. He’s bouncing on his feet, talking to Chris animatedly with his back turned to Charles when he appears in the mud-room doorway. Immediately, Chris is glancing up to him and covering Reid’s eyes with her hands, turning him to face Charles. “I have a surprise for you, Reidy.”

“What?” He squirms. “What is it?”

“More like who is it?” Hannah says, and Reid gasps. 

“Chucky?” He asks, and Chris is grinning at Charles, adjusting her hands over the boy’s eyes so one hand covers them both. With the other hand, she pokes Reid’s side right where he’s ticklish and makes him giggle. 

“Who?” She asks, his belly laugh making her laugh, too. 

“Sharles!” Reid exclaims, breathless from laughing so hard. “Sha-rle,” He laughs out, enunciating the poorly mocked accent.

“Wrong,” Chris says, and then takes her hand off his eyes to reveal Charles. 

Reid is slamming into Charles’ legs before he can even squat down to give the kid a proper hug, settling for just hugging his legs. “You comed!” He cheers. 

“Come on, Mate!” Charles says, ruffling the little boy’s hair. “You didn’t think I would miss such an important birthday?”

Chris watches the whole interaction with a giddy smile on her face. Hannah watches, too, while she stirs a crock pot full of nacho cheese. Reid fills Charles in on everything that’s happened to him since Charles left, and is already asking if Charles wants to go play catch outside with the football he’s gotten from his dad earlier that week, on his actual birthday. When Hannah slides behind Chris, between her body and the cabinets, muttering a quick behind you and grabbing a ladle from a drawer, she gives Chris’ shoulder a soft squeeze. 

– – – 

Chris is MIA when Bill and Cindy turn up, arms full of food and gifts for their only grandchild, but Charles is in the backyard, standing around a smoking fire pit with Chase and Reid and other people he remembers meeting from the wedding, but who’s names he wouldn’t be able to remember if there was a gun held to his temple. 

Bill and Cindy wander out shortly after they arrive, looking for the birthday boy, and Charles handles the introductions all by himself—a handshake to Dad, a compliment to Mom, and hugs for both of them. He knows how to charm. Knows he’s going to be working at it for a while, probably. He’s more than willing to put in the hours. 

“I didn’t know you were comin’, son,” Bill says, and Charles is nodding, hands in his jacket pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Yeah, it was a kind of… last minute choice.”

“Aw,” Cindy hums. “What a sweetheart. How long are you in town for?”

“Just a couple days,” he explains. “Chris is off work this week, but I have to get to Bahrain in a couple days. Get used to the timezone and everything.”

“Ah,” Bill nods. “Season’s starting up again, that right?”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “It never stops, it feels like,” and Bill nods. 

“Don’t I know it, boy.”

“Is Chrissy planning on coming out to any of your races?” Cindy asks, linking her arm through Bill’s, leaning against him around the fire. “I know she told us that y’all are keeping it pretty hush-hush for now.”

“Eventually, I hope she can,” he says. “I don’t want to have her come if she doesn’t feel comfortable.”

Cindy nods, smiling to herself. “Smart answer, honey,” she says, and Bill laughs. “You’re a good egg.” Charles chuckles softly, if only because he doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s been called a lot of things over the years, but good egg might be a new one. 

Just then, Chris is pushing open the sliding door on the back deck, stepping out with her coat on, the hood pulled up over her head, her hands hidden in the sleeves. “Well, speak of the Devil,” Bill says, greeting his daughter with a tight hug. 

“Uh oh,” Chris laughs, following suit with a hug for her mom, too. “Y’all are talking about me?”

He’s come to learn that her accent is never anywhere as strong as it is when she's around family. He’s familiar with the pattern of it, and does the same thing after long breaks away from speaking English or Italian. It takes a while to settle back into translating your thoughts. He thinks it’s probably pretty similar, even if she’s not translating from another language. He thinks it’s cute, when the southern twang gets extra prominent. It’s cute, and it’s sweet, and she sounds like a movie character sometimes. 

She slots into her comfortable position at Charles’ side, and his arm is tossing itself over her shoulder before he even realizes it’s happening. It’s habit, almost, to keep her close. “Always,” he says. 

– – –

They’re cute and annoyingly couple-ey all night. He doesn’t care if she’s related to or friends with almost everyone here, he’s never not amazed at just how easily she can find home in any conversation. Sometimes he wonders if he looks as awestruck about it as he feels, watching her put on this masterclass with everyone she talks to—from passing, brief conversations about how good Hannah’s food is and how old Reid is getting, to the long, sit-down chats about work and her life and their lives. It’s so crystal clear that she makes everyone feel important—the most important person in the room—and he;s even starting to remember names. 

There’s a lot of names to remember. 

There’s nobody that feels quite as important to Chris as Charles does, though, he’s sure of it. In fact, he’s not sure there’s another person on Earth that could manage to make a social event into something so… recharging for him. She just radiates energy, truly. It’s in the atmosphere, just being in her proximity, just having an arm around her or their fingers intertwined or the smell of her perfume on his clothes is enough. 

He loves her so horribly that he’s almost sick with it. He’s biting his tongue all night. Hell, he’s even trying to talk himself out of the now months old revelation. 

Like, she drinks wine from a fucking box. A box. Of wine. And she sees absolutely no problem with it. She wants to drag him around to every person, to engage in every conversation. She changed her perfume or her shampoo or her laundry detergent or something, because she smells different than the last time he was with her. She drives like an elderly woman—Jesus fucking Christ, she takes the speed limit so seriously it’s hard to sit in the passenger seat and let it happen. She cried three times on the way from Atlanta. Three times, because she saw some roadkill that wasn't even identifiable, and couldn’t stop thinking about it.  She’s covered in glitter, like, all the time. And so is her stuff. It’s on her face and her hands and her clothes and every surface of her house. Glitter and spelling tests and like, six variations of the same travel coffee mug. She listens to country music as if it’s the only genre of music that exists, and she listens to it all the time. He doesn’t love her. He doesn’t. If he did, he wouldn't have been able to keep it in for so long. 

He doesn’t love her, and then she laughs and he can feel it in his fucking gut, feels the urge to laugh even when he doesn’t get the joke, even when he misses entirely what is making her so happy. He wants to laugh because she’s laughing and her laugh makes the world a better place and he loves her so bad it hurts.

last chapter masterlist next chapter

[momtaku]

Thoughts on the Attack on Titan Musical

tl:dr; It's been two weeks but I am still not over it.

When I posted the photo of myself holding the playbill of the Attack on Titan musical the most common reaction was "WHAT???", so I guess some background might be good to start with.

Yes, the Attack on Musical is a thing. It was first performed in Japan in January 2023 with shows in Osaka and Tokyo. When it was announced that a second run of the musical would include New York City, I pounced on tickets.

See, it's real! This is my video of the closing number. We were allowed to record this.

The New York run was at the New York City Center which seats about 2200 people. There were a total of 4 shows the weekend of Oct 12. I attended the Saturday matinee. The style of this production is known 2.5D, and is incredibly popular in Japan. I did some checking and this is the first time a 2.5D anime adaptation has appeared outside of Asia. Did Attack on Titan work as a musical?

Surprisingly yes, although I think anyone who wandered in off the streets would've been thoroughly confused. The themes that attracted most of us to the series translate wonderfully to the stage, and despite knowing the story well, they managed to make it feel fresh. Carla's death, for instance. When she realized she was trapped and facing certain death, her song to Eren and Mikasa was a children's lullaby about survival. That portion of the manga always hit me hard, but the desperation, horror and love set to a lullaby? Damn it musical, you made me cry.

The original scene of Hange leading a Titan Biology class might be my favorite of the entire show. The actor who played Hange was the perfect amount of unhinged and delightful as they dance across the table while the 104th answered a pop quiz. (And yes to "they" since the playbill specifically mentions that the actor in the role was known for her portrayal of nonbinary characters.) It was genuinely hilarious.

The musical covers the first 11 chapters of the manga, stopping in the "Struggle for Trost" arc, where the plan for Eren to plug the hole in the wall was conceived but not yet executed. I remember reading that portion of the manga years ago and feeling that same sense of optimism. So the musical ends on a high. Humans finally have a way to win against the titans, It felt like a strange place to end, knowing what ultimately happens in the story, so I wondered if the intention is for a part 2 musical adaptation.

(btw, the staging of "can you plug the hole" had Eren and Levi kneeling closely on the floor together with a manly shoulder clasp looking earnestly at each other. It had me looking at my very ereri friend with raised eyebrows. It was for sure her favorite moment.) What was the performance like?

The short run 2.5D musicals don't have the polish or production budget of a true broadway musical, but it was still wildly entertaining. Since the director is known for breakdance and hiphop, there was plenty of that. The dance numbers were fun. The songs were catchy.

Rather than try to describe it, here's a TikTok review that shows off the 3dmg, the titans, and that two minute head spin that no one could shut up about.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by mixed feelings (@mixed.feelings)

Also, the cast could not have been for perfect. I mean LOOK AT THEM!

From this tweet

Who was in attendance?

As I mentioned before, this was a first in many ways so it attracted people from all over the world. While I was opening my blind box items, I met a group older women from Japan who'd travelled to New York from Tokyo and had purchased tickets to every single NY performance. Their English wasn't great, and my Japanese is nonexistent, but what surprised me the most wasn't their dedication to the show, but that they seemed genuinely surprised to see me. I don't know if that was because I too am an older fan like them, or if they weren't expecting equally passionate westerners at the show but I tend to think it was both. I suspect the Japanese fandom has no idea how big this series is outside of Japan, or that it attracts such a diverse audience.

My podcast partner Luna was sitting next to two women who'd flown in from California. They knew nothing about Attack on Titan but were fans of the actor who played Eren. Since it was his first time performing outside of Japan, they came solely to see him.

On my flight home was a 22 year old wearing an Attack on Titan musical t-shirt. We started talking and I learned it was his first time in New York, his first time seeing a broadway musical, and his first time traveling alone. He just loves the series that much.

In general the audience was much younger than what you'd normally see at a broadway show and 100% more excited. Plenty of people were in cosplay or else wearing Attack on Titan clothing. The atmosphere was insane.

My merch haul

The mug and t-shirt sold out before the second show so I was glad I was there early to snag them. The playbill is selling on Mercari for almost $50. Sadly my poster didn't survive the trip home. It cracked in about 50 places.

Did you do anything else in NYC

Aside from hanging out with so many of my favorite people, the Kodansha Popup House was going on. It was incredibly cool.

We met up with James from the Titan Teatime podcast. I think the plan is do a joint podcast in a few weeks to get everyone's thoughts . I'll post more about that if it actually happens.

Final Thoughts

Rumor has it that the show's successful New York run could mean it will branch out further. If it goes to London, nothing will stop me from being there. It was that much fun, and I can't wait to share the experience with my European friends.

[ineffablesuffering]

Pub Quiz (Crowley X Reader)

*not my gif!*

Warnings: use of alcohol, i think that's it? oh and crowley in a turtleneck - thats a major warning.

Pairing: Crowley x gn!reader.

Word Count: 2,355 (i got a bit carried away writing this whoops)

Note: to the lovely anon that sent me a request; i'm working on it! i see you!

Masterlist

_____________________________________

“Oh, c’mon it will be fun, you never want to do anything fun,” you whine.

“I’m plenty fun,” Crowley said, sipping his whisky. You roll your eyes at him. The Drunken Donkey was hosting a music quiz and you were desperate to go.  You had grown up around all sorts of music and back when you were a young teenager discovering the world of ‘decent music’ as your dad had put it, he would test you on your knowledge and it was something you had become quite fond of.

“Please,” you beg, “I’ll buy you a new plant, wash the Bentley, and buy you a drink.”

Crowley let out a sigh and looked down as he swirled the whisky in his glass. It’s not as if he had anything better to do with his time and he was rather fond of spending time with you, not that he’d ever admit that. An uncomfortable, but not unwelcome, feeling pulled on his heart when he looked up at you to see you giving your best puppy dog eyes. “Fine! Fine,” he said exasperatedly, “but don’t complain when I beat you.”

“We’ll see about that,” you say with a cheeky grin.

A few hours later, you were waiting for Crowley to make an appearance outside The Drunken Donkey. You had returned home to get changed into something a bit more appropriate for an evening in the pub, and so it seems had Crowley. He rounded the corner and you had to try to stop your jaw from hanging open. He wore all black, which was nothing new but the turtleneck jumper? Yeah, that was new, and he looked downright sinful.

“Well don’t you scrub up nicely,” you say when he approaches you, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“Not so bad yourself,” he comments with a smirk. Your cheeks flame. “Ready to lose?”

“Oh, you’re so on.”

You both head inside and Crowley heads to find a seat in the busy pub as you approach the bar.

“What can I get for you my lovely,” the woman behind the bar said. You order yourself your favourite drink and a large Talisker for Crowley, before tapping your card and heading off to find him.  

“For you,” you say placing down the whisky in front of him. He shoots you a small smile that’s enough to make you clutch your drink a little bit tighter before sitting down opposite him. “So basically, you need to have this app to take part in the quiz, you just put your name in it and then tap the right answer. Simple! Do you need help or are you old enough to do it by yourself?”

“Oh, very funny,” he huffs pulling his phone out and situating himself. “Now remember; no crying when you lose,” he smirks at you. You just look at him as you take a sip from your drink.

“We’ll see about that,” you put your own information into your phone. “Shall we make a bet?”

“A bet with a demon Y/N? That’s a bit risky, even for you.” He gives you a wicked grin and he leans in closer. You can smell his cologne at this proximity, and it makes your palms sweat a little bit. You really do need to sort yourself out.

“Well,” you lean in, not letting the proximity to him make you nervous. “I’m feeling rather confident tonight.”

“Okay then. If I win, you have to buy me a coffee every day for the next two weeks.”

“And if I win, you have to drive me around in the Bentley for two weeks, chauffeur hat and all.” You smile sweetly holding out your hand. He grins and shakes your hand.

“Deal.”

Soon the quiz master is telling you the rules, and you feel a sense of nervousness in your stomach. Maybe this was a bad idea, he did have nearly 6,000 years of experience on you, which is an awful lot of time to listen to music. The quiz master explained that there was to be four rounds; the 1980s, the Naughties, Guess the Next Line and a round specifically dedicated to Queen. Crowley perked up when he heard the last round, he smiled smugly at his phone, thinking he had this in the bag. It would be nice to not have to pay for coffee for two weeks, he thought to himself. He takes a quick glance at you over the top of his sunglasses, seeing you slightly wiggle in your seat. Your nerves, weirdly, gave him a sense of confidence.

“Okay ladies and gents, Round One: The 1980s,” the quiz master starts. The first song plays and within the first second, you’re tapping the answer.

“What?” you say as you look up and see Crowley staring at you slightly open-mouthed.

“How did you know that so quickly? The song barely started!” he points out.

You feel your nerves start to disperse and that sense of confidence washes over you again as you shrug with a smug smile on your face getting ready for the next song. The opening notes to The Look by Roxette play as you tap again within the first few notes of the song. You start to sway along in your seat. You hear Crowley growl as you continue to get the questions right and get them right quickly.

Soon the round comes to an end and the quiz master puts the leaderboard up and you smile smugly at Crowley as you see your name at the top of the board and him close behind in second place.

“What was that about you beating me?” you grin cheekily.

“Shut up,” he grumbles “It’s only round one. Don’t get too cocky.”

You giggle at him; the host announces that they are starting round two. You shoot him a wink before looking back down at your phone getting ready to start. You miss the redness that dusts his cheeks.

After the end of the round, you find yourself at the top of the leaderboard again, but this time Crowley is only a few points behind you and getting closer.

“I’m catching up to you, Y/N,” he says smugly, “You seemed to miss a few songs there, are you slipping?”

“No,” you say confidently. “I just know the 80s better.”

“I see,” he finishes his drink. “Another?” He gestures to your now empty glass. You nod at him before he heads off to the bar. A small smile graces your lips. You rather enjoy spending time with the demon. You love spending time with Aziraphale too, but this was different. Crowley just seemed to get you and your sense of humour. He was kind, although he would never admit it. He once acquired a first edition copy of your favourite book for your birthday one year, but he brushed it off as something that anyone would do. That’s when your feelings towards him started. Something about the gesture was so heartfelt and thoughtful that you couldn’t help but fall just a little bit in love with him. You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed the drink being placed in front of you and Crowley retaking his seat.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, startling you.

“Oh sorry,” your cheeks heat again, a common occurrence around Crowley, “I was just thinking about how I can’t wait to be driven around by you for the next two weeks,” you reply cooly, not letting your thoughts get the best of you. He takes a sip of his drink and leans back in his chair, not quite believing you.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t get too comfortable Y/N,” he smirked at you.

Before you could respond, the quiz master introduced the third round. The round went by smoothly, and you were now tied with Crowley in first place, who had been slowly creeping up behind you as the round went on. You felt yourself becoming more nervous as you went into the Queen round, knowing this is something that Crowley would do well in. It really was anybody's game. The round goes by quickly and before you know it the quiz was over. You look at Crowley and he looks back at you. He seems nervous. The quiz master is soon displaying the final results and you see your name at the top of the leaderboard, one point ahead of Crowley.

“Would you look at that,” you cheer smugly, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Don’t be so juvenile,” he groans at you.

“Don’t be so sour,” you grin at him “Oh I can’t wait to have a personal driver for the next two weeks.”

“You just got lucky.”

You lean over the table, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said giving your face a once over, ever so slightly lingering on your lips.

You lean back in your seat, feeling quite proud of yourself. “You know, I think I should demand one of those special apology dances you make Aziraphale do for you.”

“Absolutely not.” He said, finishing his drink, “I don’t do the dance.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” you bring the last of your drink to your lips with a smirk.

“Shut up,” he huffs, glancing around the still-busy pub, the quiz long forgotten by everyone else in the room. The night was still young and despite him losing to you, he was rather enjoying his evening and didn’t want it to end. His gaze lands back on you as you type out something on your phone. “Do you maybe want to come back to the bookshop for one more?” he asks. He sounded nervous, as if you might reject his offer. “Aziraphale’s in Edinburgh visiting a friend, and I know he’s got some lovely vintage wine hiding somewhere.”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot,” you smile at him, and he smiles back. He stands up and offers you a hand which you take, and you walk down the street to the bookshop.

A few moments later, you were in Aziraphale’s bookshop lounging on his sofa with Crowley. You sat cross-legged facing him, and he had an arm stretched behind the back of the sofa, sunglasses placed on the table by the door. You suggest to Crowley that you should put some music on, he snaps his fingers, and the sounds of Duran Duran filled the air. You smile at him, of course, he knows how much you loved them. It’s just the kind of demon he was, thoughtful, kind, and caring. One glass turns into two as the music continues to play in the background and you talk about this that and everything in between. He tells you tales of Rome and Athens way back when and you watch him talk. He describes everything in such a way that draws you closer to him. His hands waving around as he talks, little drops of wine occasionally falling from the glass that he never thinks to put down. He truly was a sight to behold.

“You’re staring,” he said finally placing his glass down.

“Am I?” you say blinking, you turn your head to the side.

“Hey, I never said I minded,” he said, your attention suddenly back on him. Was he flirting with you? The butterflies returned to your stomach, and you couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the way he spoke to you. He stood suddenly; a hand stretched out towards you. “Care to dance?”

You look at his outstretched hand for a beat before a shy smile appears on your face as you gently place your hand onto his. He helps you stand and is quick to pull you close to him. You look at him and he looks at you with a small smile on his face as he snakes a hand around your waist. The music suddenly changes into the soft melody of Spandau Ballet’s True. You giggle and hide your head in his chest. Was this his doing? You look up and find him gazing at you.

“So…” you begin.

“So…”

“This is different,” you smile.

“A good different or a bad different?” he asks twirling you.

“A good different.” You say before falling into a comfortable silence. You lean your head on his shoulder and he leans his on top of yours. The two of you swayed to the music as if you were the only two people on Earth.

“I’m glad you dragged me along tonight,” he says softly, the vibration of his words running over your body.

“I’m glad I convinced you to come, even if it means I need to buy you a plant and wash the Bentley.” You laugh. He chuckles.

“Don’t bother,” he says chuckling as he lifts his head. You move your own to look at him. He really did have the most beautiful eyes.

“I guess you’re right, I did win after all.” You grin at him, removing the hand that was once in his and placing it on his chest giving him a tap, “I’m just that good.” His now free hand now found its way to the side of your face. You tilt your head, confused at the movement. His face had an unreadable expression on it. “Crowley are yo-“

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” he said almost breathlessly, as he pulled you close and kissed you. A beat passes before your eyes flutter closed and you kiss him back, the hand that was once on his chest now cupping his face bringing him even closer to you. He pulls away just enough for him to rest his forehead against yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he whispers just loud enough for you to hear him.

“Me too,” you whisper back, “Me too.”

He grins at you before kissing you again, his lips warm and soft against yours. He pulls back, a hand still cupping the side of your face, his thumb rubbing up and down against your jaw. “Would you maybe like to go out on a date sometime?” he asks softly. You nod, a smile wide on your face.

“Yeah, I would.”

[chaussetteblanche]

If you still write for kit, can I request something where the reader is kits gf and comes out to him as bisexual, and is really nervous about it even tho he’s super accepting (like are you sure you’re okay with it) bc they get scared but he’s super reassuring 🥺

hi love ! yes, i still write for kit ! of course :) thanks for requesting !! sorry for taking so long to answer !

pairing : kit connor x female!reader summary : you come out as bi to kit word count : 1.2k warnings : none, i think

You'd first felt it when you were younger. You loved the Totally Spies and spent your afternoons watching the show when you'd come home from school. And you especially loved Britney. She was like the perfect mix of Sam, Clover and Alex. Who wouldn't love her ? But you didn’t think anything of it back then.

Then you had the same sort of feeling when you'd first watched Pirates of the Caribbean as a young teenager. Will Turner was gloriously handsome, of course, but you felt the same way about Elizabeth Swan. She was graceful, not to mention beautiful, and could handle her own in battle, she could shoot, kick ass... What couldn't she do ? You didn’t think twice about it then, either.

Same happened when you met a girl at camp. She was nice and beautiful and really funny. You were so happy to be her friend. You didn’t realize what the butterflies in your stomach whenever she touched you meant.

You'd never thought too much about these feelings, figuring everyone felt the same. It's totally normal to wonder what it would be like to kiss your female friends, right ? Everybody did that, didn't they ?

A lot of your friends came out over the years, so you grew more familiar with the LGBTQ+ community, sexualities and gender identities. But you never questioned your own. And why would you ? You were now dating Kit, had been for a few months, actually, so why would you even think about questioning your sexuality ?

And then Kit got cast for Heartstopper. And with him, you dived even deeper into the world of queerness. And more than once, when helping him rehearse his lines, you'd read the script and thought : hey, I feel this way sometimes, too. But still, you didn't think too much about it.

And then, Heartstopper finally came out. All of the cast gathered to binge watch it in one day. You had been invited too, along with the other significant others. Everyone had to bring something, so you and Kit had made a heart-shaped chocolate cake that morning.

You were all snuggled up on the couch and Joe finally pushed play on the first episode. You were leaning in Kit’s side with your legs laying over his lap. He wrapped an arm your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your head when the intro started.

You squealed along with everyone when Joe first appeared on the screen. Everyone screamed and laughed whenever a new character would appear on the screen. You watched episode after episode, glee filling your being and shining with pride as you watched Kit’s amazing performance.

You got quiet when Nick started questioning his sexuality. Your heart sped up when he did the “Are you gay” quiz on the internet. You quickly excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

You tried to take deep breaths as you locked yourself in the bathroom. You’d felt the same things for women that Nick felt for men. Was it possible that you weren’t- straight ?

You locked the door behind you and leaned on the sink. Did you- like girls ? You looked at yourself in the mirror and winced at the look on your face. You didn’t like this. You didn’t like not knowing. A knock at the door startled you.

“Y/N ? You alright, love ?” Kit. You splashed some water onto your face and flushed the toilet, drying your face. “Yeah, just really had to go all of a sudden,” you lied as you unlocked and opened the door. Kit looked down at you and chuckled. “Oh, sorry, my love.” “It’s fine,” you laughed, “no worries, babe.”

You couldn’t get it out of your head for weeks. Did you like girls ? Were you pretending to ? Were you a lesbian ? No, you liked Kit. What were you ? You talked it over with your friends a lot. They all told you the same thing : “With time, you’ll know.” Maybe you would think you were bi for a while and then discover that you didn’t like men at all, or the contrary. It frustrated you to not know. No one else but you could know what your sexuality was. And the answer wouldn’t magically appear on a silver platter, as much as you wished it would.

Kit noticed your change in behaviour. Your temper was shorter than usual and you acted distant from him. After worrying for a few weeks, he finally confronted you. You were in the kitchen, making some instant ramen when he finally talked to you about it.

“Y/N ?” he asked tentatively. “Yeah ?” you hummed absent-mindedly. “Is something going on these days ?” You tensed at his words. He noticed immediately and touched your arm. “I don’t mean to upset you, love, but I just want to let you know that if something’s the matter with you, with us or with me, I’m here and you can talk to me about it you want to.”

You wanted to cry at his kindness and thoughtfulness. “I-“ Your voice caught in your throat. A ball formed in your stomach as you thought of voicing your thoughts and worrying. How would he react? Of course he'd understand, but- What ifs flooded your brain as you spluttered like a fish out of water. He took your hand in his, bringing you back to reality as he kissed your knuckled. "You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready to, you know." "No, I- I want to." You took a deep breath. Kit looked at you, giving you his undivided attention. "I've been feeling like this for a while now, and it only got stronger when we watched your show together because it really put it in front of me. Like I couldn't ignore it any longer, you know?" Kit tilted his head to the side, somewhat confused as to what you were speaking about. "I- I think I'm bisexual." The word felt alien in your mouth. "I think I like both boys, especially you, of course, and girls. I- I'm attracted to both."

Kit smiled at you, squeezing your hand. "Thank you for telling me. I know it's not easy." "No," you chuckled, wiping a stray tear from your eye, you didn't even know why you were crying, "it's not. But you make it easier." "And how do you feel about it?" "I- okay, I guess. It's good to know there are others like me, like us. H-how do you feel about it?”

“I think it just gives me one more thing to love about you,”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you asked nervously, worrying your bottom lip. Kit nodded, still smiling. "Not in the slightest. I'm so proud of you. Can I kiss you?" You nodded. "Of course, this doesn't change how I feel about you in the slightest." He hummed and leaned forward, wrapping you up in his arms as he pressed his lips against yours. You closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling and comfort he brought you. He pulled away. "I don't think I'm ready to tell everyone yet, though." "No, of course, you don't have to tell anyone you don't want to. You don't owe anyone anything."

[livi-in-digital-circus]

10 Bunnydoll story ideas

(free to use because I have a writer block and a hard time at school)

– Jax is a celebrity that everyone loves, except Ragatha, who openly despises him. Secretly, she is actually his crazy obsessed fan who stalks him almost 24/7

– Years ago, Jax and Ragatha had an affair and since then their paths have diverged. Now they meet again and Jax quickly realizes that Ragatha is not the same sweet rag dolly she used to be, especially since she is now a single mother

– Caine organizes a quiz show about Ragatha for her birthday (imagine they celebrate birthdays) and Jax doesn't want to participate. In the end, it turns out that he knows the answer to every single question, at the same time revealing that they are in a relationship

– Jax and Ragatha have been a couple for quite some time. At some point, the rabbit starts to suspect that his girlfriend might be thinking about starting a family, which makes him a little uneasy. One day, everyone except him and Ragatha turns into babies, while Caine magically disappears and they automatically have to take care of their friends

– One day a child arrives at the Digital Circus. Confused and frightened, it gets "adopted" by Ragatha, who takes care of it and treats it as if it were her real child, which also makes Jax jealous. Later it turns out that this is in fact Ragatha's son/daughter that she had before she got trapped in the circus. After finding out, Jax has a hard time accepting it

– Similar to the previous one, there's a new addition to the circus. This time it's Jax's girlfriend from the real world. Slowly they rebuild their relationship, which Ragatha quickly notices and gets sad because she and Jax recently started to get closer. She tries to make friends with his girlfriend but fails as the girl hates people like Ragatha

– Everyone thinks that abstracting is like death. But when Ragatha abstracts, her subconscious comes back to her body in the real world and she wakes up in a hospital. For the first few weeks, she feels alone, although she is reunited with her relatives and former friends. One day she runs into a guy who seems very familiar for some reason. Later, it turns out that Jax also abstracted and got sent back to the real world

– Ragatha is a teacher's pet who is often bullied by the school's most famous troublemaker, Jax. When she meets some guy online, she befriends him and even develops a crush on him. Little does she know that it's actually Jax, who also has no idea that it's Ragatha he's been texting all along

– There is a Valentine's Day event and the circus members are sent on a special adventure where a mischievous cupid is hiding somewhere on the map. Jax tries his best to avoid him, as it turns out that cupid has the ability to make someone deeply in love with the first person they see after being hit by the arrow. Later, Jax notices Ragatha's strange behavior and suspects that she is the one affected, so he tries to ignore her as much as possible. But he also feels different and doesn't know why. In the end, it turns out that it wasn't Ragatha who got hit, but Jax

– A Halloween adventure where Jax and Ragatha are trapped in a haunted house. Unlike the rag doll, the rabbit isn't scared at all, since the monsters there are just some silly looking NPCs. However, the scariest thing happens when they are suddenly separated and the worst events of their lives as humans are presented to them. After they reunite and leave the haunted house, they feel a strong need to comfort each other (and beat the shit out of Caine when it comes to Jax)

Let me know if you like any of these ideas and feel free to use them! <3