#yes i know how to play lacrosse

[tiggymalvern]

Okay, but... this is deeply US-centric. In the UK, lacrosse is played almost exclusively by teenaged girls, and the teenage girls who are really into it are mostly gay.

rb with your straight number

[nnugatoryextravagance]

Im in an art rut once again dragging myself in here to ask for drawing prompts in my askbox if you'd like to send me any

just like, "regular" ones though not necessarily fandom related this time, I've been staring at a blank canvas for over an hour and feel like im goin crasy bro

[kiarastromboli]

Teach me (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Part.2 Part.3

Masterlist.

Warning: Virgin reader, Smut content, don’t like it = don’t read it :)

Summary: Chris shows up in the middle of the night in your room, asking for answers to the exam you both are supposed to take in the following days, and things take an unexpected turn.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

We are on a summer Tuesday evening, the air warm and heavy, the sound of cicadas outside, and the gentle breeze causing tree branches to brush against my window sill, absolute calm. The house was silent; it was already 11:25 PM, the only reason I wasn't asleep? I was busy revising for the upcoming major exam. Honestly, I didn't need to; I had the knowledge and even more, but I'm a perfectionist. Why settle for the minimum when you can achieve much more?

Anyway, I allowed myself to study a bit more tonight since I have no classes tomorrow. I had some music playing in the background, loud enough for me to hear but not too loud to distract me. Tonight, nothing could distract me!

*knock knock knock*

I jumped in surprise when I heard faint noises coming from the window at the other end of my room. I thought I was impossible to distract, but apparently, I was wrong.

I walked slowly towards the window; it was probably my cat scratching to come in. Well, I wasn't sure; what else could it be?

I pulled the curtain covering my window to open it and came face to face with Chris Sturniolo.

WAIT, WHAT? What is that rascal Chris doing at my window? Oh my god, if my parents hear him, I'm done for.

Let me give you a brief recap to better understand the situation and the reason for my current anxiety.

My name is Y/n, and honestly, there's not much to say about me. I'm a quiet girl, the complete opposite of what one would consider "cool" and "popular." I'm disciplined, polite, courteous, studious, discreet – in short, the perfect little girl who will have a good diploma, an excellent job in an excellent city, and an excellent family. I do what is expected of me without questioning, and I never, I repeat, NEVER go against the rules.

Chris, on the other hand, is Chris. If I were a boy, I would be absolutely the opposite of that guy. He plays on the high school lacrosse team with his brother. He's a real jerk – sorry, I don't want to sound vulgar, but he's a real jerk. He spends his time skipping classes to do who knows what with who knows who. He thinks he's "cool" and "popular" because all the girls run after him, but the truth is, he's just a good-looking guy with a devilish behavior. Back in elementary school, I had a crush on him; when he found out, he mocked me, and he never stopped, even now in high school. So, yes, he's an immature jerk.

What could Chris possibly be doing at my window in the middle of the night when my parents are at home? My father has always been strict about no boys in my room, and certainly not in the middle of the night?

"Are you going to let me in?" he said, looking up at me.

"Absolutely not! How do you know where I live? You can't stay here; you have to leave now!" I shouted in a panic, looking around to make sure no one saw him here.

"Let me in, and I'll answer all your little questions," he said with a smirk.

"Oh my god," I whispered to myself, bringing my hand to my forehead. "No, Chris, you don't understand; my parents are here. If they know there's a boy at my window—"

"Okay, if you don't let me in, I'll knock on the front door, pretending to be your boyfriend. It's up to you," he said, cutting me off before moving away from my window.

"NO! Okay, fine, come in," I sighed. "Damn, damn, damn," I muttered to myself as I moved away from the window to lock the door to my room.

"Your room is cool," he said, dropping onto my bed as if it were his own. "What's his name?" he added, picking up a stuffed animal lying on my bed.

"Get your filthy body off my clean bed, please," I snapped, grabbing my stuffed animal from his hands with a brisk motion.

"Relax; I just wanted to chat," he said, rolling his eyes before getting up to move towards me. "Nice pajamas," he said with a smirk, scanning my body with his eyes.

I blushed uncontrollably; I was wearing really short shorts and an equally short tank top. What? It's fine; I know what you're thinking. I'll stop you right there; it's summer, it's super hot, and I didn't anticipate Mr. Troublemaker's surprise visit.

"What do you want?" I asked timidly, stuttering and crossing my arms to hide my stomach. I hated having my body exposed in front of others; it made me feel vulnerable.

"I need your help for the exam coming up next week," he said, moving towards my desk. "And before you refuse to help me, I have an offer you can't refuse!" he said, turning to me, leaning against my desk this time.

"And did you have to come and ask for my help in the middle of the night, Chris, seriously?" I replied, annoyed.

"I stole the test papers from the teachers' lounge. If you help me, you can memorize all the answers by heart," he said, crossing his arms with a smug smile.

I laughed when he presented his "impossible to refuse" offer. What an idiot. "If you think that I, Y/n, will help you cheat on the most important exam of the year, you're way dumber than I thought."

"Oh yeah? You seemed pretty bothered by the bad grade you got in gym yesterday," he said, advancing towards me. "You know, I know the coach really well, well enough to be able to change your grade."

Damn, it was the only grade below average I had all year. It's true that it would be convenient to make it disappear. What? No, Y/n, you're crazy; this is Chris we're talking about, he's a manipulator, and you're falling into his trap. Oh my god, stop; I need to get him out of here.

"Why do you want me to help you? Find the answers yourself," I replied, giving him a dark look.

"Because I don't feel like it, and you love this kind of thing," he said, rolling his eyes. "Y/n, it's beneficial for both of us. Look, you ensure you get 100% on the exam, in addition to seeing your gym grade increase, and it will save me from repeating this year."

"Get out of my room, Chris; I'm not going to help you cheat. It's bad," I said, crossing my arms.

"Bad? Who do you think you are? Come on, we don't care; it's just an exam!" he said, laughing.

"You don't care, but I do," I said, pointing to the window he came in through.

He smiled arrogantly before licking his lips, looking at me. "You're more tenacious than I thought," he said, plunging his eyes into mine. "I like that."

I won't lie; his words made me a little nervous at the moment. Okay, I said he was a big jerk,

not that he was ugly!

"Oh, are you blushing because of me? Does what I say affect you?" he said, slowly approaching me.

"G-Get out of my room," I said weakly, stepping back.

"Why? You don't want me to leave your room, Y/n. Don't lie to me; I know you like me," he said confidently, continuing to advance towards me until my back hit the door of my room.

I swallowed hard as I felt my throat tighten due to the proximity between us. "You're insane. I would have to be crazy to like a guy like you," I said timidly, avoiding his gaze.

"I'm sure I can drive you crazy," he said, grabbing my chin to force me to look him in the eyes.

A wave of heat engulfed me; I slightly opened my mouth to get more air. My heartbeat accelerated; I must be all red now.

"Listen," he said, getting even closer to me. "If you help me with this exam," he said, placing his hand in the small of my back, "in addition to the things I've already offered you," he said, slowly lowering his hand to my hip, "I can also show you a few things you might like," he said softly, plunging his eyes into mine.

I cleared my throat. "What are you talking about?" I said all timid.

"Oh, come on, Y/n, you know exactly what I'm talking about; you're dying for it. Look at yourself," he said with an arrogant smile. "And if you want to know, I'm dying for it too," he whispered in my ear, making my knees weak.

"Stop lying, you don't give a damn about me. You're acting like an asshole with me; you only want the answers to this exam," I said, stuttering and trying not to be swayed by his sweet words.

"Y/n, I know where you live because I follow you after school every day to make sure nothing happens to you on the way," he said, moving his face a few centimeters away from mine. "I spend my time teasing you in the hope of getting closer to you," he added, running his hand over my cheek. "If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't have even noticed the bad grades you're getting in PE," he said, rolling his eyes.

If these were lies, then he's a very good liar. Oh my god, my mother always warned me about bad boys like Chris, but I felt like fainting when his hand tightened a little more around my hip. "Chris—"

"You know what, screw this exam; I'll study it on my own. Let me kiss you, and I promise to leave your room and never bother you about this exam again," he said, almost sounding desperate. Wait, is he serious? Chris has a crush on me? I must be dreaming; it can't be possible.

"Chris, if this is a joke, it's really not funny," I said uncertainly, furrowing my brow when he moved his face closer to mine.

"I'm dead serious," he said, fixing his gaze on my lips.

My eyes were switching between his and his lips; I didn't know what to do. I was bewildered by the situation until Chris placed his soft lips on mine. My eyes instinctively closed to better savor the moment. I was kissing the most handsome guy in high school in my room, just like in the movies. His hand slid under my shorts to grab my buttock, making me sigh in surprise during our kiss. He seized the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth, dancing with mine. He started smiling against my lips when he heard a pathetic moan die in our kiss as he began to knead my buttocks.

"Chris," I said, separating our lips and pushing him by his chest.

"What?" he said with a confused look as I moved away from him.

"We're not going to do this," I told him, shaking my head. "My parents are here; you can't just barge into my room in the middle of the night and coerce me with sex to get the answers to this damn exam," I said, offended.

"Y/n, I don't care about the exam. I did all this to get closer to you!" he said, taking a step towards me.

I stepped back when he tried to grab my hand to hold it in his. "Okay, prove it," I said, crossing my arms. "You said you would leave me alone about this exam and leave my room if I let you kiss me," I added, heading to the window to open it again.

He opened his mouth to speak before changing his mind, shaking his head.

"Show me you're not a liar," I said, pointing to the window.

He sighed before moving towards the window. "I'm not a liar, Y/n," he said, furrowing his brow before starting to pass his legs through the window.

There, I was finally rid of him. I should feel relieved, right? So why does something deep inside me break seeing him leave?

Without thinking, before he had time to pass through my window entirely, I grabbed him by his T-shirt to kiss him again. I couldn't let him go like that. I don't know what was happening to me, but everything was screaming at me to throw myself on his lips and never leave them.

He straightened up before closing the window with one hand. His other hand came to caress my cheek.

I had absolutely no idea what I was doing; we headed towards my desk without paying attention. He grabbed the back of my thighs to make me sit on my desk just behind me. His lips left mine to move towards my neck, his arms tightened around my waist, and my thighs surrounded his.

"Do you still want me to leave your room now?" he said arrogantly.

"Shut up," I said, feeling my breath quicken when he started sucking on the skin of my neck between his lips. "Chris, you can't leave marks," I said, a little panicked.

"Why not? You're mine," he said authoritatively, raising his face in front of mine and grabbing my throat in his hand.

"First, I'm not yours, Chris, and second, my father will kill me if he sees hickies on my neck," I said, chuckling timidly at his reaction.

Without a word, he began kissing my neck again before slowly moving towards my chest, making me anxious. "What are you doing?" I asked, stuttering.

"I'm leaving my mark where I'm sure no one else will see it," he whispered before grabbing the fabric of my tank top to slightly uncover my breast and place his lips on it.

"Chris—" I said, jumping when he started sucking a hickey on that sensitive area.

I could feel shivers running through my entire body; my back arched, and my thighs instinctively tightened around his waist while a few silent moans escaped my lips.

"Are you always this sensitive, or am I the one making you feel this way?" he said, raising his head towards me with a big smile.

I started blushing uncontrollably when he said that; I didn't even have a response to his question. I had never done anything like this with a boy before.

"Did you lose your tongue?" he asked, tilting his head to the side before coming to fix a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I-I don't know," I said in an almost inaudible voice. "Is it wrong?" I asked, embarrassed.

"No, not at all," he said, frowning. "What do you mean by 'I don't know'?" he asked, confused.

"I—" I didn't know what to answer. A silence settled at that moment; he looked me in the eyes before realizing.

"You've never done anything with a boy?" he asked, surprised.

I simply shook my head from side to side, too embarrassed to say anything.

His arrogant smile covered his lips a few seconds later. "Do you want me to teach you?"

My eyes widened when I heard that. I hesitated for a moment before nodding timidly.

"Use words, princess," he said, stroking my waist to encourage me to speak.

"I want you to teach me how to do it," I said, feeling a wave of confidence in myself.

He smiled before kissing me again; this time our kiss was slow and gentle, as if to reassure me. His hands played with the hem of my tank top. "Can I take this off?" he asked calmly.

"Take yours off first," I asked directly. I didn't want to be the only one exposed for some reason. My statement made him chuckle, and he separated from my lips to remove his t-shirt.

I took a moment to observe him. Unconsciously, I started biting my lips, and Chris smiled at my reaction. "It's your turn now," he said, moving towards me again.

Once again, I hesitated for a moment, looking into his eyes. "You don't have to do it if you don't want to, you know," he said without breaking eye contact.

His words were enough to make me feel comfortable. I took my tank top off over my head without overthinking it. "But I want to," I said before covering my chest, feeling a wave of embarrassment engulf me.

Chris immediately grabbed my arms. "You don't need to hide from me, Y/n," I let him remove my arms from the way, and he directed his eyes to my chest, licking his lips. "You're beautiful," he said before pressing his lips against mine once again.

I felt more and more at ease with him. My hands, which were previously at the back of his neck, started to travel along his chest down to his waist, where he hastily seized my wrist. "Slow down, princess."

"What? Did I do it wrong? Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?" I asked, panicking. He chuckled at my reaction.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong," he said, smiling. "We have all the time in the world, don't rush yourself," he whispered before kissing my neck again.

My hand found its place in his hair, and he gradually directed his kisses towards my chest, prompting me to throw my head back at the new sensation of his lips around my nipples.

One of his hands slipped between my thighs, making me jump and tilt my head forward at the proximity of his hand to my sensitive area.

He began to gently caress my pussy through my clothes, causing a silent moan to escape my lips.

I could feel my head starting to spin due to all this sudden stimulation; I couldn't help but squirm in all directions. "Can I take off your shorts?" he asked, looking up at me.

"Y-yes," I replied timidly before he slowly removed my shorts and resumed kissing me, this time moving down to my stomach, making me breathe harder.

He stopped kissing me when he reached the level of my white panties to examine them closely. "You're so wet that I can see the trace on your panties," he said with a smirk.

Embarrassment washed over me. "I'm sorry," I said softly, trying to close my thighs, but he grabbed them to force me to keep them open.

"Don't be," he said, bringing his head closer to my thighs. "I like it," he said, planting a kiss on my clothed pussy, making me shiver. "You're so sensitive; I bet I could make you come in less than 5 minutes with my tongue," he said, running his fingers between the fabric of my panties and my skin.

"Do you want me to do it?" he asked, looking up at me with a sly smile. I timidly nodded. "Say it," he said in a firm tone.

"What?" I asked, a bit embarrassed.

"If you want me to do it, you'll have to ask me, Y/n," he said arrogantly.

"Chris," I said in a frustrated moan; I could see his smile widening, amused by the situation. He returned to plant another kiss on my still-clothed pussy. "I-I want you to make me come with your tongue," I said, almost inaudibly moaning.

"Anything you want, princess," he said satisfied before removing my panties. I lifted my hips to help him, and he placed a few kisses around my sensitive area before putting my legs over his shoulders and diving his head between my legs.

The upper part of my body leaned forward slightly at the sensation of his lips around my clit. Instinctively, my hand pressed into his long, wavy hair, and I couldn't control the soft moans that escaped me. "Y/n, quiet down; your parents will hear you," he said, chuckling against me before getting back to work.

His tongue applied pressure to my clit, driving me wild. One of his hands reached for my breasts to play with them, mainly to prevent me from squirming all over my desk, which kept creaking. He moved his tongue in circular motions, gradually increasing the speed. After a few seconds, I felt something new in my lower abdomen, as if it were knotting due to the pressure. My thighs started to tighten slightly around his face without me realizing it. When I lowered my eyes to look at him, I could see his beautiful blue eyes already fixed on me, admiring me as if I were his last meal.

My eyebrows furrowed when all this stimulation started to take over. "Chris," I struggled to say in a weak voice; it felt like I was about to faint. "Oh my—fucking god," I said, throwing my head back and covering my mouth with my hand.

Chris didn't stop; on the contrary, he accelerated his movements, and his grip on my breasts became much firmer. He started moaning between my legs, and the vibrations of his moans against my clit were enough to push me over the edge. My legs began to tremble. "Fuck—Chris," I said before reaching orgasm on his face.

He slowed down the movement of his tongue before completely stopping to let me ride out my orgasm. "I told you," he said, straightening up and using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, "less than 5 minutes."

I chuckled at his remark, "You never stop boasting, huh?" I said with a smile, and his hands came around my cheeks before placing a chaste kiss on my lips.

"Never," he said, smiling before I reconnected our lips, making him smile at my hungry kiss. "What do you want?" he asked, separating our lips.

"I want to pleasure you too," I replied, playing with his necklace. He licked his lips, looking into my eyes.

"Is that what you want?" he asked, pressing his pelvis against mine to make me feel his erection through his pants, and I nodded.

"Yes, that's what I want," I said with an innocent look.

He immediately reconnected our lips without waiting a second longer, then grabbed the back of my thighs to carry me to my bed.

He gently placed me at the edge of the bed before leaning forward to kiss me again. "If you want us to stop, let me know," I brought my hands to his belt to remove it while he looked at me with desire.

I lowered his pants and stared at his erect member. Suddenly, panic resurfaced. "You don't have to do this," he said, bringing his hand to my cheek.

I looked up to meet his reassuring gaze. "I don't know how to do it," I said timidly, "but I want to." I added, placing my hand on his thigh.

"Do what feels right, I'll guide you," he said, never taking his eyes off me, as I slid down his boxers to his ankles.

The apprehension and stress were still there, but it was too late; after all, I was already committed. I really wanted it; I was just terribly afraid of messing up. I stopped overthinking and took his member in my hand, giving him a look to make sure I wasn't doing anything wrong. He nodded to indicate I should continue. I began hesitant strokes with my hand, eliciting a moan from his mouth.

His hand came to caress the top of my head, and I threw him a last uncertain glance before taking him into my mouth. He flinched and took a step back when I started, and I immediately looked up at him in panic. "Sorry," I apologized embarrassedly.

"No, don't be. It's okay; you just need to avoid letting your teeth touch it. It's not very pleasant," he explained in a reassuring voice before coming back towards me.

I nodded, and this time, I made sure my teeth didn't touch him. His hand returned to my hair. "Yeah, like that," he moaned, making my pussy clench at the tone of his voice. I continued my movements with closed eyes. "You can use your hand for what you can't fit in your mouth," he said weakly, and I did as he instructed. I could feel how much he was holding back from thrusting into my mouth to avoid rushing me, and the muffled sounds from his mouth sent an electric shock to my pussy.

"Fuck, you need to stop," he said, throwing his head back. I pulled away and looked up at him, confused.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked, feeling lost.

"No, baby, you did a great job. It's just that I was about to come," he said, caressing my cheek and catching his breath.

"Oh," I said, chuckling. "Maybe you can come inside me?" I said without thinking, excited by the moment; I wanted more.

"Y/n," he said, diving his eyes into mine before I got up, grabbed the back of his neck, and kissed him again. "Is this really what you want?" he asked before reconnecting our lips.

"Please," I said pathetically, guided by my desires and excitement at that moment. My hands tangled in his hair, and his hands firmly gripped my hips.

"I don't have a condom, princess," he emphasized, smiling against my lips.

"I have..." I said timidly before heading to my bedside table to take out a new box of condoms.

A sly smile appeared, and I could already feel his remarks coming. So, before he had a chance to say anything, I cut him off, "I'm a virgin, not irresponsible, Chris," I said, rolling my eyes when I stood in front of him.

"I didn't say anything," he said, chuckling, before pushing me onto the bed and positioning himself above me to kiss me again. "Are you sure this is really what you want, Y/n?" he asked, directing his lips to my neck. "I don't want you to feel forced into anything. What we've done already is more than enough for now," he added.

"Jeez, Chris, stop talking," I said, chuckling, before grabbing his head between my hands to kiss him even more passionately than before.

"Are you that impatient?" he said, chuckling. "I need to stretch you a bit first, okay?" he said, directing his fingers towards my entrance. I simply nodded, and he pushed the first finger inside, prompting me to raise my head at the sensation. "Is it okay?"

"Yes, you can add another finger," I said, feeling my breath quicken. He inserted a second finger and began to move them in and out to stretch me.

"I wish your parents weren't here so I could hear you better, Y/n. You make beautiful sounds," he said, burying his head in my neck and curling his fingers inside me to stretch me further.

"Chris," I said, moaning and pulling slightly on his hair, "I need more."

"Do you think you're ready?" he asked, looking into my eyes. He had never looked at me like that before; his gaze was tender and caring.

"Yes," I replied, nodding. He grabbed a condom and opened it with his mouth. I could feel the pressure building, but I wasn't going to back down. I was going to do it; I was ready to do it.

He put on the condom and positioned himself at my entrance. "Tell me if you want me to stop, and I'll do it immediately," he said, and I nodded. "It might hurt a bit at the beginning if it's too much for you—"

"Chris, just do it," I said, cutting him off when I felt the stress overwhelm me.

He began to push slowly inside me, scrutinizing any sign of discomfort on my face. My eyebrows furrowed at the burning sensation when he started penetrating me. "Fuck," I said, glancing down to see what was happening between my legs before letting my head fall back on the pillow. He stopped halfway to make sure it wasn't too much for me. "Don't stop," I said, breathing quickly, and he resumed his advance until he touched the depth, prompting me to bury my head in his neck to muffle a moan.

"Are you okay?" he asked without moving from where he was.

"Yes, you can move," I said before he began to make slow thrusts. At first, it burned a little; it was uncomfortable, but with each subsequent movement, the pain transformed into pleasure.

"Oh my god, you're so tight, Y/n, fuckkk," he said, moaning against my lips. His thrusts gradually accelerated, and my hand gripped his bicep.

"It-feels good," I admitted, moaning softly and clenching my jaw.

"I've dreamt of this for so long; it's even better than in my dreams," he said, gripping onto my hips.

"You dreamed of this?" I asked him, confused, not knowing if he was being honest with what he was saying.

"Mhm," he simply hummed before lowering his free hand between our bodies to massage my clit. "You're mine now," he said in my ear, and my grip around his bicep tightened with the stimulation he was providing at that moment. His hip movements accelerated again, knotting my lower abdomen for the second time tonight. "Say it," he added in an authoritative tone.

"I'm yours, Chris," I said with the little strength I had left. My mind didn't know where to focus at that moment.

"Yes, and this pussy is mine too, Y/n," he said, moaning in my ear, driving me crazy. "I want you to cum again for me, princess," he said, accelerating his thrusts, yet still gentle and delicate.

My eyes rolled back, and my legs tightened around him. "Let go, princess," he said breathlessly. "Cum all over me." With his words, I threw my head back and started clenching around him. "Fuck, I can feel you clenching around me, baby," he said, burying his head in my neck, and I started to climax. I grabbed his hand, placing it over my mouth to muffle any noise, and shortly after, he climaxed too.

"Oh my god," I said before he let all his weight fall on me, moaning one last time.

"I never want to move from here," he said, smiling against my neck.

"You'll have to before my parents wake up," I said, chuckling. "It's already a miracle they didn't hear us," I said, running my hand through his hair.

He sat up and withdrew from me before tossing the condom into my trash bin. I sat up, covering myself with my blanket. "Will this happen again?" I asked him timidly, looking at him as he put on his boxers.

"Of course, it will, princess," he said, smiling, before sitting next to me and rubbing my thigh. "Can I stay a little longer?" he asked, locking his eyes with mine, and I nodded.

He settled next to me, pulling me close and gently running his hand over my curves. "Send me the exam tomorrow; I don't have class. I'll give you the answers," I told him, looking up at him.

"I thought this was bad, and good girls like you don't do these kinds of things," he said, chuckling and furrowing his brows.

"Good girls like me aren't supposed to sleep with bad boys like you," I replied, straddling him to be on top, and he sat up to kiss me.

"I told you I'd drive you crazy," he said, smiling against my lips.

Masterlist.

[housethemd]

Can’t stop thinking about House pre-infarction.

Like Stacy says he was the same before as he is after but that is so obviously not completely true.

Sure House has always had a disregard for social niceties, always been a genius, always bucked against authorities, but think about the little things we learn about him pre-infarction, and how he behaves while the ketamine treatment is effective.

He played lacrosse in High School. He was a cheerleader in college. He met Wilson at a medical conference. He met Stacy at a Doctors vs Lawyers paintball game. The infarction happened during a game of golf. After the temporarily successful ketamine treatment House goes for miles long runs, skateboards, wears nice suits.

Pre-infarction House was athletic. He cared about his appearance. He was social. He went out and did things and had relationships. Yeah he’s always been a bit of an ass, but he was an ass with a life.

It’s only post-infarction that all of that stops. His relationship ends, he only goes to conferences when forced, he can’t be athletic, he doesn’t want to be social. He can’t be bothered to do more than throw a sport coat on over jeans and a t-shirt.

His addiction aside, all of the above things showcase what a hard time he has coping with having a disability. He doesn’t find new ways to be social, find activities he can do. Instead he isolates himself. He tries to make himself unappealing. He goes to work, and he goes home alone.

The only relationship he manages to maintain is with Wilson, and he even acknowledges that House has changed when he confronts him about his Vicodin addiction. (Yes I know he has brief relationships over the course of the series but none of them can really be compared to his 5 year long, live in relationship with Stacey prior to the infarction, regardless of how one feels about her as a person.)

It just breaks my heart to know that House’s disability took so much from him, and that the resulting depression stops him from trying to seek any type of happiness, and when he does find some he’s convinced it will end.

TLDR: I have a lot of feelings about Gregory House and how his disability changed his life.

[uniquexusposts]

The best friend - James Beaufort (3)

Click here to go to part 2

Main characters: James Beaufort x reader Genre: fanfiction, fluff, TV show  Word count: 3547 Note: I just love writing for Maxton Hall. Pls hire me as a scriptwriter xx

Summary: from best friends to... more? When Y/N visits the last lacrosse game of James, things will take a turn

Y/N walked across the campus of Maxton Hall, her footsteps confident on familiar terrain. She wore a polite smile on her face, the kind that spoke of fond memories and an unspoken connection to this place. She had graduated from Maxton Hall just last year, but the school still felt like a second home.

As she made her way to the lacrosse field, where Maxton Hall was playing its last game before the winter break, she couldn't help but feel a wave of nostalgia wash over her. She greeted a few students when they greeted her. When Y/N arrived at the lacrosse field, she looked around; the game had already started. She expected to be on time, but she was not. Her eyes scanned the field and then the tribune, looking for familiar faces, and she smiled when she spotted Lydia. Y/N tried to blend in with her outfit, but her outfit didn’t match the uniform. However, Y/N was wearing a blue jeans, trainers, a shirt and a in-between coat, it didn’t even came close to the uniforms. 

“Hey, hey,” Y/N smiled when she sat beside Lydia and her friends.

“We were almost scared you wouldn’t make it,” Lydia said. “James wasn’t sure if you would make it.”

Y/N put her hands in her pockets and looked at the field. “There was so much traffic in town. But I’m here now.” Her eyes lit up when she spotted the blue jersey with the number 17 on it. “Did I miss anything?” 

Lydia chuckled. “Not much, just the usual. James is playing really well today, though.”

Y/N watched James skilfully manoeuvred the field, his movements fluid and confident.

“How are you?” Lydia asked. “Long time no see.” The girl looked at Y/N. Lydia had always looked up to Y/N, and she still did. Y/N had everything she didn’t have. Y/N had a gentle soul and a bright spirit, qualities that Lydia cherished. Lydia was blessed to have a friend like Y/N in her life. 

“I’m fine,” Y/N nodded. “Busy with work, making coffees and listening to those endless conversations of customers,” she said and looked at Lydia. “And how are you? Started on studying for the exams yet?” 

Lydia sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Barely. It feels like there’s never enough time. Between the regular classes, family, Beaufort and trying to have a sort of social life, I’m barely keeping up.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded. “Yeah, I’m glad I had it all last year,” she breathed. “But I’m happy to be here. I missed it here. I missed spending time here with you, at the field, the library… I feel like I entered an entirely different world now.” She nudged Lydia. “But you got this. You’re one of the smartest persons I know, Lyd.”

“Thanks, Y/N/N. If I have questions about anything related to exams, can I call you then?”

“Yes, of course! Even if they are not exams related.”

A grateful smile came on Lydia’s face. “Anyway, how are things going between you and James?” 

There had always been a special connection between Y/N and James. Lydia wasn’t the only one who noticed it. Everyone thought they would have been together by now, replacing the best friend title with girlfriend and boyfriend, but they were still lost in the best friend zone. 

A careful smile came on Y/N’s face; she knew what Lydia was trying to do: she was fishing for information, as always. “Just the usual,” she replied. “We barely have time to see each other. The last time I saw him was during the boat day. We FaceTime every now and then, but we’re both busy.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

“Do you miss him?” 

Y/N’s eyes shot to Lydia, who was grinning. “Of course, I miss him. He’s my best friend, and we used to see each other daily. It’s the same as I miss you and all my other friends from here.”

“Uhu,” Lydia hummed and squinted her eyes. “Well, we miss you, too,” Lydia said. “Happy to see you here.”

They both focused on the game. Y/N found herself increasingly drawn to James. She couldn’t help but admire his dedication and skill. There was a moment when he scored a goal, and the crowd erupted in cheers. She widely smiled and looked around; it was just wonderful to see everyone go crazy: all for him. 

Since the boat day, something changed in Y/N, and something switched in her mind and heart. For weeks, she doubted. Y/N and James grew up together; they knew each other from when they were eight years old. She wasn’t exactly sure when it happened. Or even when it started. It could be the day on the boat, it could be before that day, it could be after that day. But she started to realise that she was falling hard for him right here and now. And she could only hope that he was feeling the same way. She wouldn’t tell him about her feelings. She didn’t want to give up their friendship because of her stupid feelings. 

Y/N bit on the inside of her cheek when she felt her cheeks heating up. She could feel Lydia’s eyes burning on her face, but she stared in front of her. She could see Lydia smile from the corner of her eye. 

“Ah, miss Y/L/N! What a surprise to see you here,” Principal Lexington said when he spotted a former student on the tribune. “How have you been? What are you doing now?” 

The right timing, Y/N thought. She engaged in the conversation with Lexington and shared some life updates while looking at the game occasionally. Y/N knew Lexington was being extra kind to her since her parents were paying a lot of extra money at Maxton Hall, even more than the Beaufort’s. 

The final whistle blew, signaling the end of the game. Maxton Hall had won, and the players celebrated on the field. The people in the stands also started to cheer; their team had won. Y/N and Lydia walked down the steps of the stands and headed to the side of the field. 

Everyone in the team took off their helmets and laughed with each other. It was a messy game, but so much fun. James looked towards the side of the field, hoping to see one person. His face lit up when he was Y/N, talking to Lydia. He jogged over with a brilliant smile on his face, his blue jersey clinging to his frame, sweat glistening on his skin. His hair was messy. His eyes sparkled with excitement and pride. 

“Hey,” he said surprised. “You made it.” He dropped his helmet on the grass. “I want to hug you, but…” He looked down, looking at his dirty and sweaty jersey. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Y/N replied, holding up her hand. 

James gave her a high five instead of a hug. Their gaze met, and they widely smiled. He waved his fingers together and held her hand for a few seconds before letting it go. “Are you cold?” he pointed at her red cheeks. Y/N and cold? Not a great combo. James knew she was cold when she had red cheeks, kind of like blushing. 

“A little,” she shrugged. 

He looked at Lydia, but she grinned and shook her head. James nodded and walked to his bag. He grabbed a hoodie and handed it over to Y/N. “Here,” he gave her his hoodie. 

“Ey, Beaufort!” 

James glanced over his shoulder and saw his teammates grinning and waiting for him. He turned back to Y/N. “I’ll see you in the canteen, Y/N/N,” he said warmly. Then, he jogged back to his team, who were all whooping and cheering. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he laughed.

Y/N watched him go, her heart fluttering. His smile lingered in her mind, and she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of longing. But she quickly recovered and looked at Lydia, who looked away. They decided to go to the canteen and wait for the team there, since it started to drizzle. 

As everyone returned to the main building, many greeted Y/N and Lydia. Y/N's time at Maxton Hall had left a lasting impression; she was a familiar face to students and staff. She carried a name everybody knew, not because she stood out dramatically, but because she had a quiet, magnetic presence that drew people to her. She was popular in a way that didn't rely on drama or trouble, quite the opposite of James, who had a knack for getting into mischief.

The contrast between Y/N and James had always intrigued people. Their friendship was like yin and yang; she was the calm, composed one, while he was the lively, unpredictable spirit. Their dynamic was amusing and fascinating to those who watched them navigate their school years together. Some saw them as the perfect couple; Y/N was a beauty, and James… You just fell for James. 

Once inside the canteen, the warmth and noise enveloped them. Students and faculty were milling about, celebrating the victory and catching up with one another. A group of students waved and called out as Y/N and Lydia passed by. Y/N returned their greetings with a warm smile, her presence lighting up their faces. Lydia also smiled. 

“Sometimes… I feel like we are royalty. I imagine myself moving, smiling and talking like a royal,” Y/N smirked and found a free spot at a long table in the middle of the canteen. She removed her coat and slid on James's hoodie, trying not to react to its familiar, comforting scent.

Lydia laughed and took off her coat as well. “Look at yourself,” she replied dramatically, tossing a piece of hair over her shoulder. “No, I get you. Long live the media training we had.”

Even though Y/N didn’t have to deal with the same media pressure as James and Lydia, she still had to attend media training this summer. Well, it was more like she wanted to do it. Y/N’s brother had to do it, and he asked Y/N to join him. Luckily, it was interesting, and Y/N also learned a lot from it. 

Lydia and Y/N talked about some fashion and beauty trends to kill time. It seemed like forever for the boys to arrive at the canteen. To Y/N, it felt like yesterday, she started her final year at Maxton Hall. She was one year above James and Lydia, while Y/N wasn’t that much older than them. They all had their own friends but still found each other during breaks to hang out. 

Finally, the doors to the canteen burst open, and the entire lacrosse team entered. The peaceful hum of conversation was replaced by the loud chatter and laughter of victorious players. Everyone walked to the long table Lydia and Y/N had claimed and sat down with more friends. Lydia got up and moved to another chair to let James sit beside Y/N. 

“Looks good on you,” James winked while sitting beside Y/N. 

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile. “Congratulations, you were amazing. That goal, though,” she said impressively. 

He placed his arm on the backrest of her chair and satisfyingly smiled. “Thank you, thank you,” he said with a broad smile, still slightly flushed from the game. “I didn’t see you when we started. When did you arrive?”

“Just missed the start,” she said and shrugged. “The traffic was drama.”

James moved close to her face. “I almost thought you forgot it,” he whispered. 

Y/N turned her head to him. His face was close. “Never,” she replied. “And even if I had to, I would let you know.”

They were talking about the game and later moved on to other topics like work, school, and other things. They hadn’t seen each other for over two months, and even though they FaceTimed, they had to catch up on a lot of things. 

Across from Y/N and James, his friends and Lydia were looking at him, laughing and talking in ways they hadn’t seen before. James seemed so happy to talk to Y/N and couldn’t stop smiling. Y/N was always smiling, but this smile meant more. 

“They say they are best friends, ‘just friends’, but literally everyone who ever looked at them when being together, like now, just knows they are something more. It’s so fucking obvious they had fallen for each other, but they just don’t admit it. Look at her; the way she looks at him is like he is her world, and the way he smiles is just happiness when he looks at her. And he barely smiles this happy,” Alistair said. 

Eyebrows around him raised. “Did you really say that?” Wren asked. 

“How poetic, didn’t know you had that in you,” Cyril added, taking a sip from his drink. 

Alistair sighed and shook his head. “Do I see things wrong, then?” 

“No,” Cyril smirked. “They’re both so fucking blind.” He looked at Lydia, who seemed to agree with everything the boys said. “Would it be a problem if they get together?”

Lydia took a moment to think. “I don’t think so. She has the name. And our families do businesses.” She leaned back on her chair. “However…” She squinted her eyes. “I don’t see Y/N being part of Beaufort or Y/L/N. Her brother is going for Y/L/N because he wants to. Y/N doesn’t have to do so…”

“Thanks for your technical opinion,” Cyril replied. “But they are allowed to get together. Where are we waiting for?” 

“Let them be. They’re close. Give them just a few more days, possibly hours,” she responded. 

As the afternoon progressed, the energy in the canteen remained high. Cyril and Wren planned a party tonight to celebrate their win and the beginning of the winter stop. 

“Y/N—” Cyril started but paused when he saw Y/N yawn. He raised an eyebrow, and she felt caught. “You are invited to the party tonight. So be there.”

James looked at her, smiling, hoping that she would join. It had been a while since she attended a party.

“I’d love to,” Y/N said, dodging another yawn. “But I’m passing.”

“Y/N…” several people protested in unison.

“I’ve been awake since five o’clock this morning and worked five days this week. Don’t mind me,” she defended herself. “But go party. You do you. Have fun.”

James’s smile faltered slightly. He understood her exhaustion but had hoped she’d be there. He reached out and gently touched her arm. She looked at him. “Are you sure? We can go home, and you can take a power nap,” he softly said. 

She bit her lip, reconsidering her decision. “I’m passing… But you should go. I will be there next time, I promise,” she smiled. “I just don’t feel like it today.” She looked back at the boys. “Next time, amigos.”

“Next week,” Cyril said. “Put it in your agenda. You show up, okay? No excuses.” He pointed at her. 

Lydia sighed. “If she doesn’t want to go, she doesn’t have to go.”

“I’ll be there next week,” Y/N said, grabbing her phone. She looked gratefully at Lydia. With just a few clicks, she added the event to her agenda. “You guys go and have a blast. I’ll catch up with you soon, but I’m going home now.” She got up and grabbed her coat. 

James looked at her. “I will bring you home,” he offered and got up as well. Y/N parted her lips, ready to say that she had her own car, but he shared that one look; the look that it was his decision and nothing could change it. “I will see you, boys,” he said. 

“You will be there tonight, Beaufort,” Wren sternly said. 

James walked away with Y/N on his side, throwing his hand in the air, but not saying anything. He wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulders and lightly grinned when Y/N wrapped her arm around his waist. With his other arm, he threw his back over his shoulder. Together, they walked through the halls of the school to the parking lot. 

“I drove myself to here,” Y/N reminded him. 

“Uhu,” he hummed. “I know.”

They walked in comfortable silence, the echoes of their footsteps filling the empty corridors. James's presence felt reassuring and warm, and Y/N found herself leaning slightly into him as they moved. Within minutes, they were standing next to Y/N’s car. Well, her parents’ car. 

“Last time, you drove. Now it’s my turn,” he said. 

She squeezed her eyebrows together and looked confused at him. “Aren’t you supposed to go to that party? You’re the star of the show, after all.” She was searching for the keys in the pockets of her coat. 

“I just heard there’s also a party next week, with my star on my side,” he replied and snatched the keys out of her hand. He opened the trunk of the car and threw his stuff in it. “There are more parties. They can party without me.”

“Who are you, and what did you do to James Beaufort?” Y/N crossed her arms in front of her chest, tilting her head. “Since when do you say no to a party?”

James smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Since I want to spend time with you,” he casually replied. “I haven’t seen you for ages.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, the playful banter catching her off guard. “Really?” she asked, a hint of scepticism in her voice. “What happened to the party animal I know?”

James stepped closer, his expression softening. “Sometimes priorities change,” he said quietly. “And right now, you’re my priority.”

Before she could respond, he cupped her face gently, his touch warm against her skin. Without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her. It was a soft, lingering kiss, filled with all the unspoken feelings that had been building between them for years. He pulled back and looked at her with a wide smile, while she stood still, processing what had just happened. Her arms hung limply by her sides, her heart racing in her chest.

James smirked, stepped away, and walked around the car to get in. Y/N just stared ahead, blinking a few times as she tried to comprehend the moment. Her fingers reached for her lips, where he had been just seconds ago. The warmth of his kiss lingered, sending a shiver down her spine.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approaching pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced towards the school entrance; his friends and Lydia were standing there, all looking shocked and impressed at the same time. It meant that they saw it happening. Y/N’s jaw dropped, and she looked at them. Then she covered her mouth with her hand. They all laughed at her reaction. She covered her entire face when she felt she was blushing. Y/N took a deep breath and walked to the passenger’s side of the car. 

“Take him, Y/N,” Wren said on an average volume, but Y/N still could hear him. 

Her eyes shot up to the boys, Lydia and everyone else standing there. They were all grinning. Alistair stomped on Wren’s foot, likely as a signal to give them some privacy. Y/N quickly stepped into the car, closing the door behind her. James sat relaxed, trying to act like nothing had happened, but the blush creeping up his cheeks betrayed him. It was a sight Y/N had never seen before; James Beaufort, blushing.

She bit her lip, trying to process the moment. James swallowed hard and turned to look at her. When their gazes met, both their expressions straightened, the weight of the situation settling between them.

Without another word, Y/N leaned in and kissed him once again. This time, it wasn’t out of surprise or uncertainty; it was deliberate, a confirmation that they were on the same page. The kiss was gentle yet filled with a new intensity, a silent agreement that whatever was between them was real and worth exploring.

James responded instantly, his hand finding the back of her neck, pulling her closer. When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other. 

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he confessed, his breath warm against her lips.

A smile tugged at the corners of Y/N's mouth, her heart soaring at his words. "Me, too," she admitted softly, her voice filled with the same depth of emotion.

Taglist: @notacoffeedrinker @tvshowgirl81 @crashingwavesofeuphoria @maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry

[recklesssturniolo]

Locker Room - M.S

Matt loses a lacross game & takes his frustration out on you, dom!Matt, this is as if Matt was in college, reader and him are dating

A/N: idk how I feel about this I’m sorry😓 if no one likes it heart = shattered

NSFW below, leave if you’re a minor

I went to all of Matt’s games, always wearing his jersey, and always rooting for him. I loved watching him play, not only was it hot but I couldn’t help but always feel proud of him too. Nick and Chris usually tagged along as well, but today both weren’t able to. As I intensely watched the last few minutes of the game, my heart sank as I realized they had lost. I stood up from the bleachers, letting out a sigh knowing how upset Matt was going to be and made my way to the locker room to wait for him outside. I had watched as every other member of his team walked out, smiling and greeting them as they did but only grew more confused the longer Matt took. Assuming by this point that no one else was inside the lockeroom, I slowly made my way inside.

“Matt baby?” I called out.

“Yeah I’m here, you can come in no one else is inside” He mumbled back.

Spotting him as I walked inside, I couldn’t help but think to myself how good he looked. The sweat glisening off of him, his hair a mess and even just the way he was sitting, shirtless leaned back against the wall.

“It okay, it’s just one game Matty” I said, sitting beside him.

“For fuck sakes it isn’t just one game, this was important and we fucked it up” He said back, his voice raising a bit.

“How can I help make you feel better?” I asked as I brought my hand to rub his back.

Barley being able to process his movements I feel his lips smash to mine. The kiss immediately rough and his tongue winning for dominance. I moaned as his hands slipped up his jersey I had on, and he began playing with my breasts.

“Look so good in my jersey” He said, “You wanna make me feel better?”

“Yes of course” I replied.

“Get on your knees then” He responded, grabbing my arm and directing me to the ground.

I remove his pants, spitting on my hand before beginning to stroke his dick. My pace slow but steady, him instantly letting out a groan.

“Fuck sakes use your mouth” He demanded, his hand making its way to the back of my head.

I begin licking circles around his tip, before he applies pressure to the back of my head, making me take all of his dick in my mouth, a gag instantly leaving my mouth.

“Mph there you go, such a good girl for me” He groaned.

I was soaked, Matt being this dominant was something that rarely happened and I couldn’t get enough of it when it did. My pussy throbbing, beginning for some form of friction. I continued bobbing my head up and down, at times using my hand to stroke him when I wasn’t deep throating him.

“Matt” I whimpered, unable to stop myself, the throbbing between my legs becoming too much.

“Yeah? Fuck you’re so hot on your knees for me” He responds.

“I need you, please” I whine.

“Need me to fuck you? Take all my frustration out on your tight pussy?” He questioned.

“I - yes god please” I reply.

Matt grabs my arms and lifts me up, sitting me on the bench before spreading my legs open and smirking before rubbing circles over my clit.

“So wet for me, you won’t be able to walk out of here by the time I’m done with you” He smirks.

“Just fuck me Matty, I need you so bad” I moan out.

He moves me so I was bent over, my ass in the air facing him. I feel him line himself up with my entrance, a moan already falling from my mouth just knowing the sensation that was going to follow.

Without a warning, he slams into me.

“Fuck Matt I - oh my god you’re so big” I whimper, a slight mix of pain and pleasure shooting through my body.

“Take it I know you can pretty girl” He groans out, continuing to slam himself into me at an ungodly pace. His grip on my hips growing tigher with each thrust, no doubt going to leave me with bruising.

“So fucking tight” He groans out, his voice raspy, “Such a good girl for me”

Continuous moans fall effortlessly from my mouth as he fucks me, hitting my g-spot in a way so good that with each thrust I felt my pussy clench.

“Touch yourself, I want you touching yourself while I come all over your ass” He demands.

I do as he demands, my hand now rubbing circles around my clit, only hightening my pleasure. The knot in my stomach only tighening the longer we continued, my legs beginning to shake. Feeling a sudden loss of Matt’s touch, I whimper until I feel his come on my ass and him groan, my name leaving his mouth as he did so.

“God you feel so good, not such a good girl now all covered in my come are you?” He says, without a doubt a smirk on his face.

“Matty I -“ I start but he cuts me off.

“I know baby, I’m not done with you” He replies, spreading my legs wider and moving so he was underneath me, my pussy hovering above his face.

I feel him swipe two fingers up my pussy, a whine leaving my mouth. His thumb moving slow circles on my clit as he used his tongue to flick the rest of my pussy.

“Taste so good, covering my face with your juices. So fucking hot” He says.

The knot in my stomach only becoming tigher as he flattens his tongue against my pussy before sucking on my clit, pushing two fingers inside of me.

“I’m gonna come holy fuck don’t stop please” I whimper. My legs now shaking to the point I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay standing.

“Good girl, show me how good I make you feel. Come all over my face” He mumbles, sending vibrations up my body.

Unable to hold myself back, I reach my climax, my eyes squeezing shut, and my legs buckling as I did, only pushing my pussy further down on his face. Moaning out his name continuously.

“Matt I can’t hold myself up much longer it - fuck it feels so good” I moan out.

Ignoring my comment, he continues using his tongue to lick up my juices, slowing the pace of his fingers that were insdie of me, before sliding out from underneath me and allowing me to sit down. Both of us catching our breath.

“Never really thought I’d feel this good after losing a game” He smirks.

TAGLIST: @sturnphilia @thatonekid536 @cupidsword @loveesiren @daddyslilchickenfingers @christinarowie332 @ilovemattsturn @mattenthusiast @its-jennarose @lxvlysworld @lovingsturniolo @iwantmattsobad @secret-sturniolo @mattsd0ll @soursturniolo

[hysteria-things]

SINFUL DESIRES (part two)

read part one here

read part three here

read part four here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: of course the two of you still “hate” each other. although, it’s not just the sex. you both know that.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, p in v, spanking, praising, possessiveness, hair pulling, video, pet names (pretty)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 661

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'��� 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: ask for part two and you shall receive part two!

i’m a lover for nathan. that is all.

jerset part ib jersey by @worldlxvlys :)

the spring breeze hits you, making your hair flow in the wind. your best friend dragged you to a lacrosse game, where you know who plays. she knows you hate him, but she always says that you need to ‘live the high school experience.’

right now, your best friend’s mouth hangs open with utter shock. the game hasn’t started yet, so this seemed like the right time to spill the beans. “you’re telling me that nate — the person you despise — showed up at your house two weeks ago and fucked the shit out of you?”

“yup.” you exhale. “i couldn’t look at my parents for a week. told them i was watching porn and it accidentally connected to my speaker, but i don’t think they believed me.”

“holy shit.” she laughs.

you stand up from the bleachers, shoving your hands in your pockets. “i’m going to the snack stand before they come out. you want anything?”

she shakes her head. “no thanks.”

you step down the bleachers and head to the snack stand. the line isn’t long, thank goodness.

as you approach, a hand grabs your forearm and pulls you to the side. you startle at the contact.

nate’s grinning in front of you, all geared up and ready to play. “nate, what the hell?!” you scream, looking up and down his body.

your eyes start at where his eyeblack is, then to his jersey with the number 8 on it, and lastly to his cleats.

ah, shit.

“hi.” he waves in your face.

you roll your eyes. this kid.

he starts to fidget with your hoodie strings. this is the most confused you probably ever been in your life. “you coming over tonight?” he asks.

you stare blankly at him waiting for more information, but of course, he doesn’t give any. “for what?”

he shrugs. “to hang out.”

“fu-uck!” you moan as nate rails into you from behind, your ass red from the few times he spanked it. the remains of your last orgasm still make a mess on your thighs.

he has you bent over his desk, his hands bunching up the bottom of his jersey that he put on you.

somerville won the game, and according to him, this was his reward. you are his reward.

his eyes are focused on the DOE right above his jersey number. you’re wearing his name, and he’s making sure you know it.

you’re on your tippy toes, each thrust making you quiver with pleasure. your nails claw at the wood beneath you.

“jesus,” he whispers, grabbing his phone so he can record what you look like with his name on. he’s so fucking fascinated by it.

he grips onto your hair. “you look so beautiful getting fucked in my jersey, don’t you think?”

“mhm,” you grumble, your eyes threatening to cross.

he grips tighter, giving you a little spank. “use your words, pretty.”

“y-yes. i—” you’re cut off by a whimper when his tip hits that familiar spot inside of you. “gonna c-cum, nate.”

you squeeze around him as your pussy squelches, threatening to spew your liquid. he groans. “clenching around me so tight.”

you scream when he starts to go faster, hitting inside you deeper than before. your whole body trembles when you spread your cum around his dick. “there you go… that’s it.”

he shoots into the condom short after you, pulling out and throwing it in the trash can that’s set on the floor next to the desk. he places his phone back down.

he turns you around and leans in, kissing you passionately on the lips. he hums before pulling away. “i hate how much i like you.”

you smirk, but the blush on your cheeks gives you away. “i hate how much i like you, too.”

later that night while you’re in bed, you get a text message. you gasp when you open it.

nate.

[attachment: 1 video]

just a reminder

sweet dreams, pretty

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom

[callahanisms]

body talk

seeing challengers was a mistake guys because all i can think about is challengers and how much i love challengers and how cinema is back after people declared the death of cinema like three years ago and how much i wanna go see challengers again—

anyways uhhhh did challengers make me hop onto the mike faist train? yes. because i love a man that clearly worships his wife and kisses boys.

character: art donaldson

for vibes: "physical" by olivia newton-john

context: stanford university. 2007.

if you had a choice, you wouldn't be working as a receptionist in the gym. instead, you'd work in the infirmary. it was more in line with your desire to pursue sports medicine.

your father himself was an athlete who sustained a career ending injury and went into sports medicine. you wanted to follow in his footsteps.

but for now, you were working as a receptionist at the gym for your federal work study. college wasn't going to pay for itself unfortunately and your parents could only provide so much support.

art donaldson recognized you while you guys were at a party. "you're the person at the desk in the gym!" he sounded so excited. almost like a puppy.

"yeah..." you look down at your red solo cup. "you're like a regular. with tashi duncan."

"you know her?"

"well, i've talked to her a few times. she's great." who wouldn't like her honestly? you weren't the biggest fan of tennis but whenever tashi duncan played, she always managed to make it magical.

"you're also in my bio class, right?"

"you're in my bio class?"

"oh don't tell me you didn't notice."

you shrug. "i didn't. you're not very...noticeable, i guess."

art took personal offense to that statement.

okay not entirely. because to some extent, you were right. he wasn't as noticeable as some of the other people in class, like the lacrosse player on the guys team or the girl from the basketball team, both of whom you seem to be close with.

growing closer to art was just a matter of being in a lot of classes together, something you didn't realize during the first month of college.

to be fair, it was a lot.

but the good thing about having a lot of classes with him was that it meant you always had a go to person for group projects. and god were professors adamant about assigning group work.

at the very least, you had a workout buddy when you guys were free. sometimes, you were even joined by tashi duncan. so it was cool to be able to work out with a famous tennis player.

perhaps the gym is where you started to notice art's...physicality.

he wasn't entirely imposing, aside from being quite tall. but he had a surprising amount of muscle. perhaps the tank tops he wore didn't help much. it left little to the imagination.

because of your familiarity with the body and your desire to go into sports medicine, art called you when he was feeling a bit sore.

he opens the door with a smile, seeing you with your bag and clementines. "what's the fruit for?"

"just in case you get hungry." you step in and remove your shoes. "just lay down."

"bed or floor?"

"whichever you prefer. the bed might be more comfy. we'd have to move stuff around if you were on the floor. oh and take off your shirt."

"what?" he could feel his cheeks beginning to heat up.

"take off your shirt. a massage won't be that effective with your shirt on."

"alright. umm..." art just does what you ask of him, taking his shirt off and setting it aside on his desk chair. he gets on the bed and lays down, front side down.

you pull out a bottle of lotion and crawl onto the bed, straddling him at his waist. you are unaware of how red he is feeling you against him.

you feel around his back for bit, asking him where in particular is tight. once you got a good idea, you squirt some lotion onto your hands, rub it a bit, then begin to massage.

art would be embarrassed from the sounds that came out of him. but he was craving for the relief from his overworked and tired muscles. he could feel just how deep your hands went in, twisting and rubbing. your hands felt so good. they glided smoothly and your touch soothed him greatly.

"damn dude. when was the last time you massaged yourself?"

"don't know." he mutters, burying his lower face into his own pillow. he could feel himself growing warmer all over his body.

your palm pressing into him, dragging itself through his muscles, rubbing baby lotion into his skin so he's soft.

your hand reaches a part of his lower back, your palm rubbing through the muscle. and he moans.

you stop for a moment. "something wrong?"

"no...nothing's wrong..." he mutters.

"you sure?"

"yes. keep going."

he enjoys the way your hands move lower, and lower. he wants them to sneak to the front. massage him a different way.

your hands linger on a particular spot of his back though, feeling the defined muscle. there's something particularly...satisfying, about running your hands over his body. you were tempted to feel more. especially his arms.

art's arms were utterly gorgeous, as if sculpted out of marble by a renaissance artist themselves.

"i think you're all good."

"all done already?" he smelled like baby lotion. whatever that mean.

"unless you want me to massage elsewhere." you get off of him and he turns on his side to look at you.

the tank top you were wearing was a little bit tight.

art gently grabs your wrist. "magical hands you know."

"it's beneficial to learn how to massage. for your own betterment and health. though i will happily help you with the spots you can't reach."

he rubs circles into your wrists. "are they tired?"

"a little. it was because i took an exam yesterday. writing in those blue booklets is absolute torture."

"that's fair." his eyes flicker up to yours. the room was warm, the atmosphere right. "do you...like my body?"

"it's nice. you're very beautiful." you smile.

art pulls you forward, your legs hitting the wooden bedframe of the shitty college provided furniture.

"do you want to feel it?"

you bite your lip. "i think i do."

[lily-fics-11]

I Can See You: Chapter 3 (Ellie Williams, TLOU)

I Can See You

Fic master post here

*Not beta read

Ellie Williams is a player, on and off the lacrosse field. You begin tutoring her so that she can get her grades up and stay on the team. You try to keep things professional, however, your affection is a great motivator. Ellie wouldn't be caught dead with you so you become her secret mission. 

Chapter 3

The more Ellie flirts with you, the more you see her with other girls, and you aren’t sure why. She gets jealous when other girls give you attention and starts to show that she wants you all to herself. 

Word count: 4.1k

CW: No use of y/n, profanities, a little bit of angst, sexual tension, *Ellie and reader are both 18*

You aren’t quite sure the cause, but there is a positive correlation between how much Ellie Williams flirts with you and how much she is getting with other girls.

You knew that Ellie has… engaged in many connections, even seen it here and there. But it just doesn’t make any sense. Maybe it’s just how much she is on your mind, but it feels like everywhere you look Ellie is with a different girl. Up against a locker, in the library before tutoring, and you even saw her worn out converse along with a pair of designer boots under a bathroom stall. 

The Monday after the game and private lacrosse lessons she is raring to go. She sits down with a mischievous look in her eyes. “We are finally on an even playing field, tutor girl.”

“Because I adequately played lacrosse in gym today?” You chuckle. 

“Yes, we are helping each other pass our classes,” she points out as if it’s completely obvious.

“True,” is the reply you give without thinking. You truly appreciate Ellie’s help. You don’t know that you could have done it without her. But in one class. You’ve put a lot of effort, more than you have with anyone else, into assisting her with four different classes. It is interesting stuff, but definitely not as fun as lacrosse is for her. It’s not a competition by any means, you signed up for this. There is just a bit of resentment. 

“Hey come on, I saved your GPA.” Ellie is playful, however there is a sliver of disappointment.

“It’s true,” you smile but she doesn’t look convinced. 

“I can’t deny that you are probably the only tutor in this school that can put up with all my bullshit. You are gay, and I’m me. But, I’m the only girl on the lacrosse team that you know.” Ellie seems pleased with herself, as if she just won an argument. 

“You aren’t the only girl on the lacrosse team that is gay, and I’m me.” You are impressed by how smooth that was. 

Ellie’s eyes widen in fear. Noted. “Please tell me it’s Robin.”

“She has a girlfriend,” you remind her and she looks frustrated. 

“Josie?” She tries with minimal hope.

“Ellie, she's a freshman!” You scoff at her. 

Ellie crosses her arms with narrow eyes. “So it must be Anderson.”

“I’ve only ever had a few conversations with her, but our parking spots are next to each other. I see the way she looks at me, and every once in a while she will give me a compliment. Abby’s never made a move though.”

“Well that’s lovely.” Ellie spats. 

“Are you jealous, Williams?” You tease, she is uncharacteristically peeved that another girl is giving you attention. 

Ellie forces a laugh. “Pft. No. Of course not. Anderson and I just don’t get along.”

“What did you do to her?” You ask, assuming Ellie’s air of superiority is frowned upon by her teammates. No matter how good she is, huge egos aren’t good in that kind of environment. 

Ellie slams her hands down and defends herself as if she is a criminal on trial. “I didn’t do anything! She started it!”

You let out a long breath in defeat. “Never mind, I don’t need to know.”

Ellie breaks eye contact and mumbles. “I wouldn’t want you to get involved with someone like that.”

Your lips curl into somewhat of a snarl. “So you care about my feelings? I thought I was just a girl to flirt with when no one is looking.”

Fear settles into her green eyes. “Of course not. How could I ignore our chemistry?” Ellie’s pun falters to near silence, she realized this is not the right time.

“Speaking of chemistry, I want to go over kinetic and potential energy first.” You are trying to forget that interaction happened. 

She nods. “I think I have a good understanding of energy.”

“That’s great Ellie. Why don't you tell me, in your own words, what kinetic and potential energy are. Thinking of it in your own words will help you remember it.”

“Well potential energy is what’s happening between us right now. The ‘will they, won’t they’. We make eye contact all the time because we are always looking at each other. You can’t pretend like you don’t want to kiss me. Looking at my lips when I talk, leaning in close to show me how to do things. Potential energy is everything we could be if we gave into our desire.

And kinetic energy? That’s what we felt when we kissed. Getting close to each other, loving it, craving it. We both knew it wasn’t necessary to play lacrosse like that, but we did it anyway. We long to have more of each other. Having you close felt like an atomic collision.”

Your face is burning hot and you struggle to find words when she’s giving you fuck me eyes. “I would like to remind you that this is supposed to be strictly business, although that is a pretty spot on analogy.”

Ellie is so cocky, so pleased with herself. It’s infuriatingly sexy. “When I take this test I’ll be thinking about you regardless, now I have a more appropriate reason to.”

“I'm like your academic muse.” You laugh nervously, wishing you hadn’t said that.  

Ellie’s eyes light up. “The most powerful optical 3D spectrograph for astrophysics known to man?”

She is such a fucking nerd and it makes you smile. Even temporarily forget all the bull shit. “It’s someone who inspires an artist.”

“Well I do like measuring the wavelength of the vibes you radiate.” She licks her lips waiting for your reaction. 

“That’s actually pretty good,” you chuckle. 

Ellie runs a hand through her hair.“The don’t call me the rizzler for nothing.”

You giggle at how ridiculous this girl secretly is. “I would say space nerd but whatever you have to tell yourself.”

“You can call me space nerd, as long as you don’t say it in front of anyone else. You should make it my contact name in your phone, in case someone sees your notifications.”

You roll your eyes and agree to it. You hate that sometimes she charms you to the point of forgetting about the reality of your situation. Gives you hope just to take it away.

“While I do that look at questions 5, 6, 7, and 8” you mumble. Ellie can tell you aren’t happy with her and doesn’t push her luck, doesn’t even ask any questions the rest of the period. 

However, she puts her hand on your arm to get your attention when you start to leave the library. “I have another home game tomorrow.”

You sigh. “That is going to take time away from studying.”

“Oh, I, uh, yeah,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck anxiously. 

You give her a half hearted smile. “Good luck though.”

Ellie senses that you are wary of her so she is blushing and hesitant. “The last game was the best season opener I’ve ever played. You should come to this one too, just in case you are my good luck charm.”

“I uh… I’m not sure if I can make it,” you tell her. Any hope she had falls off her face.

Seeing her like that tugs at your heart much more than you would like it to. “But I’ll do my best.” Her face lights back up and she hits you with a smolder that would give Flynn Rider a run for his money.

During lunch the next day you get some homework done so that you can go to Ellie’s game.

When you open your locker at the end of the day a piece of paper falls out. Unfolding the note it says “I hope you can fit me into your busy schedule -E”. Even if she hadn’t signed it you would have recognized her handwriting.

There had been a confusing math problem you got stuck on so you took a seat right before the team went onto the field. You sit alone, in the same spot as last time, so Ellie can easily see that you are there. For the sake of good luck, of course. 

Ellie looks up at you once she’s in position and smirks. She moves her hands on her stick to the weird way you had held it the other day, before quickly switching back. 

Abby Anderson looks good as usual, fighting for the ball when the whistle is blown, but Ellie’s words are in the back of your mind.

The team that they are playing today is much better than the last one. They keep control of the ball a lot more and have a faster goalie. After Ellie takes a few shots you notice that the goalie has a certain strategy. You don’t know lacrosse but you do know how to recognize a pattern. Ellie notices it too, and takes full advantage of it, scoring right away and repeating the move.

Ellie, and Abby, though not as much, lead the team to victory. Now that you are aware of it there are moments where you notice tension between them. 

You time your exit to cross paths with Ellie, so you can see her before you leave. Not that you would say anything to her with other people around. Unfortunately, her attention gets captured by one of the prettiest girls in school. The girl twirls her hair flirtatiously and puts her hand on Ellie’s arm. Most of the team is walking back to the locker while you walk to your car. You hear footsteps close to you and a somewhat familiar voice calls your name. 

Abby Anderson is walking next to you. 

“You plan on coming to every game this season?” She asks. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably just until the lacrosse unit is over in gym, I’ve been studying.”

“Well I look forward to seeing you in the stands. Maybe you will find a reason to keep coming.”

You give her a polite smile, unsure of what to do. 

“See ya around,” she says and then jogs to catch up to some of her teammates. 

Moments later you receive a text from Space Nerd🚀🤓: I’ll be keeping an eye on her

Ellie hard core flirts at your next tutoring session. It's weird, but so is she. 

One would think she hit the lottery when talking about how you were at her game. When she thanked you for coming she emphasized that it was her game. Assuring herself you were there for her and not Abby, though she didn’t actually say that. “I really think you are my good luck charm, looks like you are stuck coming to the rest of the games this season.”

“I wasn’t at the away game,” you remind her and she frowns. “Fine, every home game.”

“I really am responsible for the fate of the entire lacrosse team,” you chuckle. “I’ll try and get to all of your home games.”

Ellie’s jaw drops.“You will?”

“Yeah. You’ve been working hard. I’m proud of you. Besides, I'm not helping you get your grades up just to ruin it with your superstition.”

Working on her calculus is tedious, which only increases her impulse to create distractions.

“It’s getting hard to differentiate,” she tells you between problems.

“I know it’s hard, but you've already improved so much. I know you’ve got this.”

Ellie brushes a piece of hair off of her face. “Differentiate between whether or not you really want to keep things professional. You say you want to, but that look in your eyes tells me otherwise.”

You roll your eyes but Ellie is not easily deterred. “If we integrate ourselves, there is an array of possibilities. The limit goes to infinity.”

“The only reason I put up with your flirting is because it weirdly helps me know how much you’ve been paying attention.”

Ellie leans in closer and whispers “you can try and lie to me all you want, but you have a tell.”

You don’t back away from her, you match her energy, though the hair on the back of your neck stands up. “A tell? I don’t have a tell,” you scoff. “But if I did have one, what would it be?”

Ellie licks her lips and then looks at yours when she asks “what’s the fun in telling you?”

“Just remember that with great power comes great responsibility.”

Ellie looks like she’s about to jump out of her seat with that reference to her favorite superhero. “That makes me want to call you the Uncle Ben to my Spider Man, but that would make trying to kiss you really weird.”

As an athlete, Ellie does know how to get down to business. She had her chem test and got a B, but she has tests in all 3 of the other classes you are helping her with over the next week as well. She keeps herself in check, meaning minimal antics instead of as much as she can get away with.

You prepare her for all the essay topics she might get about The Great Gatsby, go over every single Spanish vocab word and conjugation as many times as possible, and practice the types of integrals she has the most trouble with. 

Ellie reports back that she feels like she did well. You check in with her Sunday night, she tells you she did good and then doesn’t answer when you ask about specifics. 

Humble is not a word to describe Ellie Williams, so you find it a little odd. That is until you get an email from the guidance counselor, informing you that Ellie has met the requirements she needed to. You have been assigned another student, a softball player that has been slacking this season. 

You immediately text Ellie: Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t need tutoring anymore?

She responds immediately: I was hoping you wouldn’t find out and you would keep tutoring me

You shake your head in frustration and text her: Call me!

Seconds later your phone is ringing with a FaceTime call. 

Ellie is holding her phone at a weird angle, like a dad that doesn’t know how to use a phone properly. She looks guilty as hell.

“Hey tutor girl.” Her smile is forced, and her freckles are accompanied by a bright flush.

“Did you really think they weren’t going to tell me?” You ask her this with a small smile. Seeing her all frazzled is pretty adorable. Ellie is undoubtedly hot, but seeing her be cute melts your heart. 

Ellie bites her lip for a moment while she thinks.“I guess I didn’t really think that through. But would you be able to keep tutoring me?”

“Ellie you are very smart, all you needed to do was learn how to study and you’ve done that. Besides, they already gave me someone else to tutor.” Losing your time with Ellie was always inevitable. She no longer has a reason to see you, you aren't sure where all this is coming from.

Ellie’s nose scrunches and her eyebrows furrow. “I can’t believe that you would- that they would- who even is it?”

“Elise Knolls,” you tell her calmly. 

“She’s gay!” Ellie yells like she had said this girl is a murderer. 

“Uh yeah, why does that matter?” Ellie has never truly wanted you, she wanted to kiss her tutor. But maybe that’s not the case? 

A fire burns in her bright eyes. “Because- because you might start going out with- out to her softball games instead of my lacrosse games!” Is she really, you use this word with great haste, jealous?

You do your best to contain yourself. You want to laugh more than anything else, and tell her I told you so. “Ellie I will still try and come to as many of your games as I can.”

She looks like a little kid on Christmas. “For real?”

A smile that you don’t mind showing spreads across your face. “Yes. I promise.”

Ellie’s excitement starts to slide away after briefly living in the moment. “I still won’t actually see you. For tutoring. I think I still need it. I don’t want to lose… my momentum.”

“You have practice or a game after school everyday,” you remind her. 

“Well my team has the first practice some days, but the guys team does on the other days” she explains, much more serious than she usually is. 

You sigh. “I have my own work to get done.”

Ellie looks desperate at this point. “Well can we work together? I’ll only ask questions when I need to.” She is all but begging.

The idea is good, but only in theory. “You are prone to creating distractions.”

“I will tone it down.” Ellie promises. “I don’t want to lose this opportunity to spend time with you. So that you can help me with school, of course.”

This is something you really want to make work. You don’t want to lose Ellie either. She is the best pain in the ass you’ve ever had. “We can try it. If I can get as much work done as I need to, we will continue. If you can’t keep your dinosaur rants and space explanations to a minimum we won’t.”

Ellie is giddy to the point where she might giggle. “Tutor girl, you are the best, thank you. You won’t regret this.”

“If I do, we won't keep doing it,” you emphasize. 

“I promise. Thank you.” Her expression changes though. “I do have to ask, about this Elise girl, how do you feel about… tutoring her?” Ellie’s low voice and serious tone make your heart race. It’s hot as hell.

“I know her, don’t really know anything about her grades though. We’ve never really been in any classes together.” You explain. 

“Then how do you know her?” She continues to interrogate.

“We frequent some of the same social events.”

“Do you mean parties?” You nod. “You go to parties?” She is in genuine shock.

You roll your eyes but smile through it. “Yeah, there are parties besides the ones thrown by the 1%.”

Ellie switches back into detective mode. “So do you guys like, hang out at these parties?” You give her another nod. 

“When I say hang out, are you picking up what I’m putting down?” Her eyes are wide with anticipation.

Ellie is going to keep pushing until she gets the information she wants. She's nothing if not persistent. “We’ve hooked up…” her face contorts as if she ate something sour. You mumble “quite a few times.”

“Oh.” If her eyes weren’t already so green they would be now. The jealousy has taken over.

Not the best note to end this call on, but you really need to review topics for a tutoring session tomorrow. “How about you text me what your schedule looks like this week and we figure things out from there.”

“I can do that.”

“Bye Space Nerd.”

“Bye tutor girl.”

Monday morning when you get to your locker there is a rose tucked into one of the holes. Weird. Upon opening it you find a note that says ‘thank you again -E.”

Walking to your homeroom you overhear the girl that had been flirting with Ellie after her game the other day talking to one of her friends. 

“Ellie hardly even paid any attention to me on Saturday. I wanted to take her upstairs but she wasn’t interested. I didn’t see her go upstairs with any girls, I don’t know what her deal is.”

After school you meet Ellie in the library. She is there first, in the back corner, even though it is empty. 

There is something different about her today, but you can’t identify it immediately. Her hair is the same, she is wearing jeans, a flannel, and converse like she normally does. Looking past her physical appearance, there has been a change in her disposition. 

Ellie is confident as always, but lacks her typical cockiness. She already has her things ready to get started on her work, and is waiting for you with a smile. And not just a polite ‘thank you for doing this for me’ smile. More so an ‘enchanted by your presence’ smile. This may lead to cardiac arrest. 

Ellie takes a moment to look into your eyes, searching for something unbeknownst to you. “Tutor girl, I’m glad you could make it.”

“I told you I would be here,” you remind her teasingly. 

She picks up a pencil and starts fidgeting with it. “Yeah, but I’m still not sure why you agreed to this. I’m a headache, why would you deal with me more than you have to?”

“Well you are a pain in the ass,” a gorgeous one, you think to yourself. “But you’ve grown on me. And I didn’t want to stop seeing you… continue to do.”

“I will help you with your work if you ever need it. Not sure how, but I will do my best.” This offer makes you believe she is eager to please you.  This brings as much shock as it does a growing desire in the pit of your stomach. There are a lot of ways she could please you…

“Thank you space nerd, that’s very sweet.”

Ellie looks at you with starry eyes and as much as you want to live in that moment you know that you shouldn’t. “I have a lot of work to do, we should get started.” You were her tutor, you helped her do what she loves the most, playing lacrosse. This mild infatuation isn’t coming from anywhere but her appreciation for you. It’ll pass. You can’t forget that.

Ellie starts reading Lord of the Flies while you highlight and make notes in a textbook. 

You had started about 90 degrees, or pi/2 radians, away from each other around the circular table. However, when she asks her first question you notice that she is closer to you. You assume that is because it would be easier for you to see the quote she is referring to.

That is until you switch from reading to doing physics, and she is even closer than before. You side eye her and she just smiles innocently. 

It’s not long until her arm is brushing up against yours and she moves her knee so that it is leaning into your leg. 

You roll your eyes. “Can I help you?”

“No thank you,” she says, not even looking up from her book.

“Then what are you doing?”

“Just getting cozy.”

You put your pencil down. “I wouldn’t call this professional.”

Ellie’s naive facade is replaced by a smirk. “You said no distractions, you didn’t say anything about keeping it professional.”

“As long as you can keep getting your work done,” you warn her and she nods.

“One question though.” She leans over, chest pressing against your arm, to point to an equation on your paper.

“Did you write that E there for Ellie?” She looks at you with great suspense.

“This is distracting,” you chastise her.

“Fine. What does E stand for?” Ellie asks this with what seems to be genuine curiosity.

You are happy to explain since she isn’t doing it to push your buttons. “Well it’s the Greek letter epsilon, not E. Denotes permittivity.”

Ellie continues to look over everything on your paper. “What is permittivity?”

“The resistance to electric field formation.”

That earns a laugh. “Fun.”

“Extremely pleasurable.” At the word pleasurable her eyes wander over you, hungrily taking in every inch. She sees you looking back at her the same way and licks her lips before agreeing not to distract you anymore.

You get back to work but she doesn’t, you can see her watching you out of the corner of your eye. You choose to ignore this, you are no longer responsible for micromanaging her. You finish up your physics and ask Ellie when she needs to leave. She's got about 15 minutes.

“Well I don’t want to get started on anything new right now. Do you have any questions before we finish up?” You ask this expecting her to say no and be done. She hasn’t read anything since you last checked in.

“Yes,” she declares with a devilish smile. She leans in, and you feel her warm breath on your ear when she whispers “what would you do if I went to touch you now?”

Tags: @bready101, @st4r-b3rries, @tlou-bombshell, @stvrs13, @dinanellie, @everegretseverything, @mikellie, @lamolaine, @0pheli4, @soupycloud, @radioheadfan699, @callmelola111, @hysteriawillnotsuccumb, @normalthing111 

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 2: A Lacrosse Boyfriend

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 11.4k

Warnings: series rewrite, start of season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual pining, eventual NSFW, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, health problems, lightheadedness, fainting

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

Part 1: Her Broken Heart

Part 2: A Lacrosse Boyfriend {You Are Here}

Part 3: Blue Handprints

The summer heat had finally decided to die down to a reasonable temperature. It was the only reason your mother decided a picnic at the park would be nice. It was equal parts safe for you and enough of a distraction that you could pretend you were a normal kid.

At just four years old you were starting to notice how you didn’t live like the children you saw outside your window. You had started to grow bored of your usual antics stuck at home.

You lay on your stomach near the edge of your blanket. Along the blades of green grass you spotted a ladybug climbing towards the sky. You were practicing counting the spots on its back when the beat in your chest became noticeable.

The pressure from laying on your tummy made it easier to feel your heartbeat unevenly.

“Do you want another grape, sweetie?” your mom asked, stretched out and enjoying the shade.

You reached out a smaller, pudgier hand, accepting the grape with a hungry toddler’s mouth. Your eyes looked above the ladybug grass and stared at the playground, complete with twisting slides and a rubber rock wall.

“Mom,” you say in your timid tone. “I want to play.”

“I know, honey,” she says, “But you know how that’s not safe for your heart.”

A pout grew instantly, “I am careful!”

Sensing your coming tantrum, your mother drew your attention away from the other children playing with a lacrosse ball in the nearby field.

“Yes, you are very good at being careful. But remember your heart sometimes has a mind of it’s own. Sometimes being careful isn’t enough. The doctor said not to be too crazy.”

You ball your little fists but hold back the angry words. “I don’t like my heart.”

Your mother cooed, reaching for you, “No, sweetie, you have a wonderful heart. It’s big and warm and full of love for far too many things. It tries its best to take care of you. So we need to try our best to take care of it, okay?”

You snuggle into your mother’s arms, upset feelings turning into tears, “Okay, mommy.” You feel a kiss on your head when the children playing in the field came running past your blanket.

They stopped on the other side of your shaded spot and conversed behind dirt smudged hands. They were both rowdy boys with scabbed knees and grass stained shirts, but they had wide smiles as one approached you.

He had unruly hair and sunburnt cheeks.

“Hello,” he said in a nervous voice, “What’s your name?”

You rub at your eyes, “(Y/N).” You sink further into your mom.

The boy was out of breath and already itching to run again judging by his fidgeting. He said quickly, “Hi my name is Stiles. Do you want to come play with us? We were playing sharks and minnows, but it’s not so fun with only two people.”

You look up at your mother’s chin and ask quietly, “Can I go play?”

Your mother sighs, tickling your sides, “If you don’t run around so much and stay on the playground…”

You were instantly crawling out of her lap, “Okay!”

“And if you start getting out of breath you need to tell me!” your mom continues, “Be careful climbing the ladders and don’t you dare stand on the slide!”

“Bye!” you yell in reply, already jogging away with Stiles to meet with his other friend.

He touched your shoulder, “Do you like chasing bad guys?”

“I’m not supposed to chase,” you say seriously, “But I do like to catch bad guys.”

Stiles nodded his head in deep thought, “Okay. How about we make traps for bad guys under the slides.”

You agree enthusiastically, grateful at your young age for someone who didn’t know about your heart. Grateful that they played with you like any other child.

And you schemed underneath the slides, building traps out of woodchips and leafy twigs. Innocent kids that didn’t know any better. Didn’t know that you wouldn’t remember this first meeting.

~~~

“I’ve started TAing.”

Allison gives you a strange look, “What?”

“I’m a teacher’s assistant now,” you lead the way into the school, “I have a free period since I finished a core class during my homeschooling.”

“Who will you TA for?”

You hold back a grimace, “Coach Finstock.”

Allison snorts, “You know I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what’s going on half the time. He forgets which periods he’s teaching economics and which periods he needs to be in the gym for P.E..”

“All the more reason why he needs a TA to sort things out,” you say, straight-backed. “And it means I can help out at lacrosse games too.”

“What, like a waterboy?”

You bump into Allison’s side, “No… well maybe. Just helping out with supplies and plays and locker room stuff.”

“Locker room stuff,” Allison says with raised eyebrows.

You choke on a laugh, “Don’t start. I reserve the right to ban you from the locker rooms. Especially seeing as that’s become your new make out spot.”

That caught her off guard, ramming right into the person in front of her. With a squeal she drops everything in her arms and put her hands into her hair. It was Scott who turns around after the collision.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Allison laughs, joining you as you help pick up her things.

Scott looks terrifyingly relieved, “You’re okay.”

“Once my heart starts beating again, yeah.” You smile ruefully at that statement. “What?”

“I’m just happy to see you.”

You thought Scott looks more like seeing Allison walking and talking was a miracle. Like he couldn’t believe that she was alive. You hand Allison her pencil case and folders, watching their goodbye with skepticism.

“What was that?” you whisper as Allison walks away to first period.

Scott was still breathing shallow, “She’s okay.”

You snap your fingers in front of his dazed eyes. “Are you okay?”

The speakers suddenly turn on with a crackle of fuzzy interference. “Attention, students, this is your principal. I know you’re all wondering about the incident that occurred last night to one of our buses. While the police work to determine what happened, classes will proceed as scheduled. Thank you.” With another crackle of microphone feedback the principal’s voice was gone.

You return your eyes to Scott and furrow your brow.

He took in your confusion and whispers, “I had a dream last night where Allison and I snuck into the buses behind the school.”

“Oh?” you say, still skeptical but now with a smile on your face.

“And I sort of had… an outburst.” He seems to struggle with finding the right words. “I killed Allison and broke through the back of the bus.”

“Well, shit that sucks Scott,” you fold your arms, “But I don’t think you’re capable of all that.”

He grimaces, “No, when we showed up to school and saw the bus out back – and how it looked just like it did in my dream – I thought maybe I had actually killed Allison somehow.”

You reign in your teasing smiles and bump into his shoulder, “Scott, like I said, I don’t think there’s a mean bone in your body. There’s no way you could kill someone and tear up a bus.” He still slumps as he follows you to first period. “I can understand why that would still be scary regardless.”

It was his turn to bump into your shoulder, but with more force, causing you to trip into a row of lockers. “God! I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he pulls you closer by the hand.

You laugh, ignoring the jump of your heart. “It’s okay, let’s just get to chemistry.”

Stiles was already sitting down, bouncing his leg against the table stool. He looks at Scott as if asking if everything was okay. Scott gave him a reassuring nod as he took a seat at the table in front of him.

You smile at them as you took the remaining empty seat at a back table. You immediately start copying the diagram drawn on the blackboard, taking out your science project notes for inspiration.

You could hear the frantic voices of Scott and Stiles near the front, and a needle of hurt stuck in your chest as you remember the secret that Stiles wasn’t ready to tell you. You had to remind yourself that the friendship was still relatively new.

There was still a secret you hadn’t told them either.

“Mr. Stilinski, if that’s your idea of a hushed whisper you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while,” Mr. Harris says from the blackboard. “I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?”

Stiles begrudgingly moves his stuff to the back but stops when he spots the empty seat next to you.

“Hey, trouble,” you say quietly.

He sat clumsily, “How was the rest of your weekend?”

“It was fine. Just a lot of reading.” You finish copying the blackboard notes.

Stiles leans on his elbow, “Still reading that werewolf book?”

“You mean Harry Potter,” you snicker, “Yeah I’m on the fourth one now.” Turning your head you could see Stiles staring at you, “What?”

He swallows hard, awkwardly straightening himself, “Nothing just… I like that coconutty-strawberry smell.”

Warmth came up your chest, “That would be my shampoo.”

“Then thank god for personal hygiene.” He grimaces and smacks the back of his head.

You ignore it, pulling your notebook closer. You could still feel his eyes on you as a classmate jumps to the window, “Hey, I think they found something!”

Everyone ran for the wall of windows. You stood quickly from your stool too when a fuzzy feeling flickers on in your head. You grip the table, closing your eyes and frowning.

No one notices as you compose yourself, waiting for the fainting feeling to go away. You wander closer to the group of kids terrified at what they were seeing. A tingling was making its way down your legs – the blood rushing to your toes.

You felt uncomfortably warm when a cool hand touches your shoulder, “(Y/N)?”

Stiles was at your side, unsure of what was happening. “You look ashy. Are you lightheaded again?”

The breath leaving your lungs was shallow and rapid, cotton was building pressure in your ears. “I’m going to faint, Stiles.”

“Mr. Harris!” Stiles yells, “(Y/N) needs to get to the nurses office!”

Not that the student body would know, but every teacher at the school knew of your health problems. They knew it was a possibility that you would require medical care. Mr. Harris, as cynical and distrustful as he was, let you leave promptly despite his feelings.

“You may leave, Miss. Westbrook.”

“Sir, I don’t think she should be walking alone to…”

Mr. Harris was using his phone as he looks out the window, “Get out of my classroom, Stilinski!”

Stiles keeps a hand on your back and another on your arm, watching your face the whole way. His voice was frantic and small as he talks you through it.

“It’s like I can see the blood draining from your face. Does that happen a lot? I mean, I know you get head rushes a lot, but the fainting thing? Do you just have bad blood circulation? Was it something I said? Look I know I’ve mentioned how good you smell twice now and while it is true I acknowledge that it’s a little creepy of me to be sniffing your hair so much. I probably shouldn’t have admitted that. Not gonna lie it’s kinda freaking me out that you’re not saying anything.”

You struggle to breathe, “It’s sort of hard when you don’t give me time to answer.”

The shallowness of your breathy words put a strange feeling in Stiles’ chest, “Do you need me to do something else? Does the nurse… what the hell is that?”

Your watch was suddenly beeping with an alarm. Your heart rate was far too high and had stayed that high for more than thirty seconds. A pain enters your chest, and your walking slows.

Stiles starts panicking, “What does that mean? (Y/N), what’s happening?” He yells down the hallway towards the office, “Hey! We need help over here!”

It was hard to keep your eyes open as you start to slump, “Stiles…” you mumble. And you lost consciousness, falling into Stiles and in return he fell to the ground to catch your body.

He held your back and shoulders, using his free hand to brush the hair from your face. Your skin was still gray-tinged. An office lady and the school nurse came rushing down the hallway. Their heavy footfalls matching the hard beating of your heart.

Stiles was finally at a loss for words, holding you like you had just died. “(Y/N)?! Oh my god, I think she just fainted,” he says to the incoming help, “I hope she just fainted.”

The nurse asks Stiles to help drag you to the sickbed. He complies, frantically asking questions until the nurse ordered him to stop.

“Alice, will you call her mother and I’ll get her doctor on the line,” the nurse says to the office lady. She dials a number and holds it to her ear as she elevates your legs and checks that your airway wasn’t obstructed.

“What did she say to you before she fainted?”

Stiles was still flabbergasted, “She turned gray and said she was lightheaded. She told me she was going to faint.” He ran a hand over his shaved head, “And then her watch started freaking out and she had a pain in her chest.”

“It’s been more than 90 seconds now,” she mumbles to herself, checking your watch monitor to measure your heart rate.

“Wh-What does that mean?” Stiles asks, blinking blearily. “Is she going to be okay?”

The nurse starts talking to a doctor on the phone and Stiles was ushered out by the office lady, forced to watch from a different room. He refuses to leave the office until he sees your eyes open just a few seconds later.

~~~

“By the time I checked with the office at lunch she was sent home,” Stiles vents, one hand on the wheel and the other in his short hair. “She hasn’t answered any of my texts or phone calls.”

Scott was stretched thin between worrying about his possible dreamlike wolf attack and the mystery of his newfound friend. In all honesty he was more worried about how worried his best friend was.

“I talked to Allison about it, she doesn’t know anything either.”

“God, I knew there was something wrong,” Stiles bites the inside of his cheek. “That scar she has… whatever I look up says it has something to do with her heart.”

Scott eyes his friend, unsettled by the palpable worry. “She’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“We would have heard something if she wasn’t.”

Stiles grips the steering wheel, “We would have heard something if she was.”

They pull up against the fence to the bus drop off, putting the jeep in park. Stiles rubs at his worn face and Scott leans in with an edge to his voice.

“Listen, let’s just get this Derek theory over with and then we can go check on (Y/N). Sound good?”

Stiles grumbles, slipping out of the jeep with his friend.

“Hey, no, just me,” Scott says, “Someone needs to keep watch.”

“How come I’m always the guy keeping watch?”

Scott pulls on his friend’s arm, “Because there’s only two of us and I happen to have wolf-like reflexes and you’re distracted by your sudden love for (Y/N).”

“I am…” Stiles scoffs, caught off guard. “I am not in love with (Y/N).”

“The eight text messages and four phone calls would say otherwise.”

Stiles juts a finger in the air, “Hey, that is totally untrue.” He put his hands on his hips, “I only made three phone calls.”

“Whatever,” Scott whispers, “I’ll just be in and out.”

“Okay, why’s it starting to feel like you’re Batman and I’m Robin? I don’t want to be Robin all the time.”

Scott was bewildered, “Nobody’s Batman and Robin any of the time.”

“Not even some of the time?”

But true his word, Scott was quick upon entering the bus. Stiles surrenders and sits in the jeep ready to drive with the headlights off. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his messages to you, concern eating away at his stomach.

It was bad enough that he witnessed you fall ill so quickly and dragged you to the nurses office. But now he was realizing, through some personal investigation and the unhelpful words of Scott, that he had a crush on you.

He liked you.

With all the strange supernatural problems infiltrating his life, it was almost an unexpected surprise to have something so human as a little crush. His stomach flips. But what if there was something more supernatural about you?

Your heart rate was elevated when you fainted. Scott’s heart rate is a tell of an oncoming werewolf transformation.

Is that why you wanted to keep it a secret?

Stiles was sick of his investigative brain, slamming his forehead against the steering wheel. Couldn’t he have normal high school problems like fretting over the girl he liked instead of deducing if she was a shape shifter or not?

Flashlight beams could be seen from the school’s entrance. Stiles lifts his head to see them shining in his eyes, “Oh, shit…” he starts laying on the horn.

~~~

After dropping Scott off, Stiles sat in his jeep contemplating his next move. Staring at the clock on his dashboard he knew it was far too late for your parents to accept company.

But there was still that garden trellis outside your window.

Making his decision, Stiles drove to the end of your street, hopping out and running for your house. It was easier to climb the garden trellis now that he knew where to put his hands and feet through the vines and ladder.

He creeps over the roof tiles and squats outside your window. The lights were off, and he could just make out the human shape lying in bed… he still couldn’t help himself. He taps on the glass until he saw your figure stir.

Ruffled in white pajamas with little blueberries printed on the fabric, you carefully tip toe to the window to let him in.

“Stiles,” you yawn, the moonlight still bright enough to make your eyes squint. “What are you doing here?”

Stiles made a much more graceful entry, afraid to disturb your parents. “I wanted to check on you. You haven’t been answering my messages.”

You sit on the edge of your bed, clearly exhausted. Stiles remains standing – because he wanted to pace or because he was preparing to catch you should you fall, he didn’t know.

“I’m sorry,” you run your fingers through your bedhead. Stiles thought it was cute. “Between the hospital visit and the bedrest I haven’t even looked at my phone. My mom usually keeps it whenever I have a fainting episode. Gives me time to unplug and unwind.”

“But…” Stiles folds his arms, “But you are okay?”

He didn’t like that it took you longer to respond. “Yes, I’m fine. You know I get lightheaded a lot. Fainting is usually a consequence of that.”

“Your watch went off right before you fell,” he says quietly, his eyes dark and serious. “Like some kind of alarm.”

“Yeah,” you look at your watch that you wear even when sleeping. “It measures my heart rate. Whenever it spikes for too long it warns me that I might faint.”

“That’s why you get lightheaded… your heart?” his eyes linger at the collar of your shirt, hoping to see that scar again.

You fold your arms, protective, “When I get worked up it doesn’t beat enough to get oxygen to my brain. Then I get lightheaded and sometimes faint.”

Stiles nods his head and walks over to your bed, “Can I?”

A soft smile quirks your lips, “You may.”

He sits beside you, the mattress sinking down further. “So when we saw the ambulance and the bus driver all mangled like that…”

“It got my heart rate going,” you say easily. Of course you got lightheaded before even seeing the commotion outside the window. You didn’t feel like getting too deep into your diagnosis. This was a good start.

“It was really scary seeing you get sick like that,” Stiles says honestly, looking down at his hands. “Not knowing what was going on made me feel… like I was helpless to make it stop.”

You turn to him, silhouetted by moonlight. His eyelashes were so long that they were casting shadows onto his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you say gently, placing a hand on his forearm. It made him look up at you. “I should’ve been more honest with you.”

“Is this where I can ask you my one personal question of the day?” his eyes were warm as his voice held slight sarcasm.

You lean into him, “I suppose.”

“If you start feeling faint or if you do faint, what can I do to help? Just so I’m prepared if it happens again.”

You blow air between your lips, “Oh, it’ll happen again. That’s my curse.” You hum as you think, oblivious to how Stiles was unconsciously smiling at your thinking face. “I generally avoid things that would get my heart rate up.”

Stiles scoffs, having an epiphany, “Like a lacrosse game or an after party.”

“Or a crowded lunchroom,” you smile. “But if it goes up regardless, I usually try to ground myself. Like thinking about what my five senses notice. And I hold onto whoever I’m closest to. Doing that and taking deep breaths can control my heart rate.”

“I know a thing or two about that,” Stiles mumbles, “That’s a technique to control anxiety.”

You nod, “You’re right.”

“And if you faint again?”

“First step is to call for help and the second step is to make sure I’m stable.”

You turn to him, and he looks so sincere that goosebumps erupt on your skin. He was taking your words so seriously. Without interrupting your council he grabs the blanket off your bed and drapes it over your bare arms.

“Lay me down and elevate my feet. Make sure I’m not choking on anything. And then if I’m out for more than 90 seconds or I start seizing, then turn me on my side.”

“Why 90 seconds?” he asks.

You pull the blanket closer around you, “Because after 90 seconds then there might be some brain damage or something else seriously wrong.”

He turns his body towards you more, your thighs fully touching. “The nurse today said that you were out for over 90 seconds.”

“That’s why they sent me to the hospital,” you nod, “But they didn’t find any serious damage. I just can’t have any more fainting episodes like that.”

Stiles swallows hard, tracing the outline of your side profile with his eyes. Brow. Nose. Lips. Chin. “Why?”

“Because the more I have the weaker my body will become. The more damage I’ll get. We don’t want that to happen.”

He licks his lips and plays with his fingers, “Thank you for telling me.” He thought back to the scar on your chest and realized that some things still didn’t add up. Craning his neck to look at you, he asks, “That’s still not everything, is it?”

Your eyebrows slant and you look scared for the first time that night. “No.”

Stiles found himself closer to you than he intended, urgency laced into his next words, “(Y/N), I want to know everything. I want to be able to help.”

A sad smile crept onto your face, “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

You take a shaky breath, “Because then it’ll become too real. I’m not ready to share that reality yet.” You match his urgency as you express, “This is enough for now.”

Stiles suppresses the instant anger that brought up. He hated not knowing things. “Does anyone else know?”

“The school staff and most parents know,” you say, “Yes, even your dad.”

“My dad!”

You shush him, “It’s a small town and my mom works under him.”

“What about Scott and Allison?”

“Not yet,” you sigh, “But I don’t mind if you tell them now. It was stupid of me to keep it to myself when I could faint at any time around you guys.”

He bites his lip, “When will you be back at school?”

“Maybe Wednesday,” you shrug, “Fainting always puts my family in a tizzy. My parents don’t like me leaving the house until they’re sure I can handle the stress again.”

Stiles was sinking further towards you, your arms now touching along with your thighs. “Is that why you were homeschooled?”

“Yes. I finally decided to not let my problems stop me from living my life to the fullest,” you relish in his warmth beside you, the goosebumps going away. “I decided to go to school, to get a job, to do things my parents and doctors said I shouldn’t do. My heart rate will go up the same way if I get jump scared in my own kitchen. I might as well be out doing something enjoyable.”

Stiles sighs and he was close enough you could feel his breath on your cheek. “I like that.” You smile and cuddle further into your blanket. He felt reluctant to leave, but all the same says, “I should go.”

He stands and walks carefully to your window. “You’re going to miss a wicked history test tomorrow and the ‘hang out’ between Scott and Allison.”

“I thought they were going on a date?” you say, crawling back towards your pillow.

“Nope,” Stiles began to slide out your window, “Lydia and Jackson made it a hang out at the bowling alley.”

“Does Scott even bowl?”

He snorts, “Never.”

“That could only end in hilarity,” you grin, “I’ll text Allison about it tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Stiles mutters, “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Stiles?”

He slips on the roof tiles, “Yep!”

You smile at his goofy face, “Thank you for helping me today. Not everyone would’ve done what you did.”

“I think anyone would be competent enough to cry for help when…”

“No, you coming to check on me. Asking me for details so you can help more in the future. Not judging me for having a problem. No one else has done that for me.”

Stiles nods awkwardly, gripping your windowsill. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

~~~

Wednesday evening you were on a mission to convince your parents that you were well enough to go to school tomorrow.

You stood in the kitchen, soft blue silk pajamas on and fuzzy socks keeping your toes warm. A home speaker was playing songs from your favorite playlist, coercing your body to nod and sway with the beats.

“Are you sure you feel alright enough to be alone?” your mother frets, putting a coat on as your dad grabs the car keys.

You hold up your wrist with the watch, “My heart has been steady all day.”

“Yes, but you don’t know if…”

“Mom!” you cry, “It’s Wednesday. Wednesday is date night. You should enjoy your Wednesday date night. I can make myself dinner and watch a movie before bed.”

Your dad nudges your mother towards the door, “Let her have some freedom,” he teases.

Angela smacks his arm, but keeps moving nonetheless, “You better believe I’m getting my own cheesecake tonight.”

Your father, Tom, gave you a wink, “Let’s treat ourselves tonight, sweetheart.”

And for the next ten minutes you were blissful in making yourself some chicken and rice, green beans on the side. Clad in your softest sleepwear and dancing around to your favorite tunes, it was hard to shift the mood when you receive a frantic phone call.

“Hey, Stiles. Sorry I wasn’t at scho…”

“(Y/N), I need your help,” he says quickly.

You turn away from the stove, “Cutting to the chase, alright. I’m listening.”

Stiles trips over his words, “Y-You work at the hospital right? You have a wealth of doctor knowledge? Like you could tell me a few facts about first aide?”

You lean against the counter, the marble cold under your arms. “Yes… Stiles what’s going on?”

“I might, sort of… maybe have a friend who is… very hurt.”

“Very hurt?”

“He has a wound that just keeps sprouting blood and he’s not looking so hot.”

You hum a ‘uh huh’ as you ponder who this friend might be, “Not looking so hot meaning what?”

“You know, just the general sweating, pale skin, heavy breathing.”

“He must be in a lot of pain then.” You could hear a slam on something metal in the background. Stiles must’ve jumped by how his voice rose an octave.

“Lots – lots of pain. Listen, what might we do to help said wound?”

You go to stir your sizzling chicken, “How does it look?”

“Red and gross and all around a major health code violation,” he felt his chest tighten at your slight laugh. “There’s also these purple veiny things creeping up his arm.”

The smile falls from your face, “That would mean he has blood poisoning. Whatever wound he has is infected and if it reaches his heart then it’ll kill him.”

Someone was rummaging through drawers; you could hear pill bottles flying around.

“That’s good, great,” Stiles curses, “What do we need to stop that from happening?”

“Well, you need to stop the infection with some pretty heavy antibiotics,” you rub at your forehead. “And you need to clean the wound to stop more infection from getting in. And you could put a tourniquet on to help stop the bleeding.”

Some heavy whispering was happening behind Stiles’ hand. Something recognizable was in the other man’s voice.

“Stiles,” you say warningly, “Who are you with?”

“Just some guy,” Stiles replies, moving around, “We’re putting a belt around his arm as a tourniquet now. Thanks for your help, (Y/N).”

A cry of pain was heard through the phone and you hiss, “Are you with Derek Hale?”

“What?! No way… not a chance,” he laughs weakly before growing silent. “Yes, I’m with Derek Hale.”

“What the hell, Stiles – I thought you hated that guy.”

A growl was heard behind him, “Listen, I gotta go. Talk to you later?”

“I’ll be here, making dinner and watching old Disney movies.” You wait for a goodbye, but the line went dead. “That was weird.” And it continues to be that way as you finish making the dinner and grab a soda from the fridge.

You sat on the couch, pulling a fluffy forest green blanket on you. It was quiet and serene as you pull up one of your favorite movies: Atlantis: The Lost Empire.

You weren’t even ten minutes in when there was a knock on your door. Slipping on your thick socks, you skid across the hard wood to the door.

Suspicious, you say, “Stiles… how is Derek?”

“He’ll live,” Stiles says, out of breath and wrapping his jacket tightly around him. “He’s having a chat with Scott right now about the Hale family or something.”

“About the house fire?” you ask, “So now that he’s innocent of killing his sister you’re suddenly buddies with him?”

Stiles had an exaggerated look on his face, “Well, not exactly. He’s still a big scary guy that we got thrown into jail for a day. And now the town thinks he’s some murdering recluse because of the evidence we put against him.”

You couldn’t fight the smile creeping onto your face, “So it was just a favor you helping him tonight?”

“Yeah, it was a hunting accident,” he says casually, as if it were the whole truth. “And he didn’t have any friends to turn to.” He dances on his toes, looking up at the porch light, “While I love chatting out in the cold, do you think your parents would be alright if I hang out here and check on you?”

Leaving the door open, you walk inside, “My parents aren’t here. It’s date night.”

“Right,” he says, closing the door and kicking off his shoes, “How are you feeling?”

You sigh, “I feel fine. My mom is just determined to keep me couped up for the rest of my life.” Without prompting you prepare a dinner dish for Stiles and meet him in the living room, “I’ve only been in school a few weeks, but I miss it.”

Stiles eyes the plate of food with wide honey eyes, “Oh my god, that smells amazing.”

“Come on, I’m watching Atlantis.”

The boy was only too eager to follow you onto the couch. He flops down, staring at his plate hungrily. You share the green blanket, throwing it over his lap. He looks at you with big eyes.

“You said it was cold outside,” you shrug, picking up your plate. Your legs were touching again as the pair of you ate.

Stiles was eating the chicken and rice like his life depended on it, “This is the best food I’ve had in years.”

“You must be in love with it,” you snicker, “Judging by the sounds you’re making.” You laugh as he chokes on his fork.

“No, it’s just…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I don’t eat a lot of homecooked food anymore. My dad and I survive on takeout mostly.”

You push the rice around your plate, “Did your mom cook a lot?”

There was a shift in the air as Stiles continues to eat, but he responds with as normal a voice as he could manage. “Yeah. My dad used to say that… that she would bribe him with a good dinner to get him home from the station sometimes.”

Your voice was warm as you say, “She must’ve been an excellent chef if that got the Sheriff away from his caseload.”

“She used to make this delicious homemade mac and cheese, like fancy mac and cheese…” he made silly hand motions in the air, “Like with the little chopped up green things on top.”

“Parsley?”

He shrugs, but his eyes grew wide and bright, “And she’d serve it on top of a piece of garlic bread with some Italian sausage on the side.” He makes an overexaggerated chef kiss. “It was a masterpiece.”

“Sounds amazing,” you lean back into the couch, leaving your plate on the side table. “Like a fancy kid’s meal.”

Stiles guffaws, “That’s what it was! When I was little the only thing I would eat was kraft mac and cheese with chicken nuggets. She was determined to make me a better version.”

“I would’ve liked to have met her,” you say softly, fixated on the points where your bodies were touching. “She sounds like an amazing person.”

“She was,” Stiles says just as quietly, playing with his food like he had lost interest in it. “She would’ve thought you were sweet.”

You lean closer, intrigued, “Sweet?”

“That was her descriptor word for all things she liked.” He puts his plate aside too, resting against the couch and your shoulder that was so near. “We got a coupon for the arcade? Sweet! My dad picked her a flower from the woods? That’s sweet of him. I’m forced into a sailor outfit for family pictures? He looks so sweet!”

You take a deep breath, “That is pretty sweet.”

Stiles turns to you, startled to see you so close to him. His throat grew dry and his chest felt tight, all words trickling from his brain and out his ears. He never talked about his mom. Not to Scott, not to his dad, not to his pillow – not to anyone. But talking about her to you was… easy.

You were having the quick realization that Stiles had not just brown eyes, but the most glassy brown eyes you had ever seen. Like if sunlight were to shine through the liquid of a whisky bottle. Or if a sunset caught a glimpse of a glistening honeycomb. Or if a campfire reflected off a drop of amber tree sap.

“So…” Stiles clears his throat, not wishing to pull away but very conscious of how high his voice sounds. “You like Atlantis?”

The movie had been playing the whole time in the background.

“Yes! Have you seen Milo Thatch? I’d marry him in an instant.”

“I didn’t realize you felt so strongly for an animated man.”

You poke your shoulder into him, “Fictional men.”

“And the appeal is?”

“It’s in the name,” you snicker, “They’re fictional.”

Stiles hums a reply, turning his attention back to the tv screen. “I’ll add that to your case file: only attracted to fictional men and therefore can conclude that she’s never had a real boyfriend.”

“Oh, it feels real though.”

Stiles fought a shiver tickling the top of his spine. He instead readjusted his pants, “I think I’m going to need more research on these fictional men you’re so fascinated with.”

“We’d have a lot of ground to cover,” you sigh, “Seeing as I don’t think you’ll read any of the books I give you, we’ll have to have a lot more movies nights like this.”

“I think I’d be okay with that,” Stiles says with a smirk on his face. His hands were above the blanket you share, lying in his lap and fidgeting with the green fuzzies coming from the fabric he was pulling.

~~~

You sat on the windowsill in the girls bathroom the next day, reapplying your lipstick and combing your fingers through your hair. Allison was readjusting her hairband in the mirror while Lydia fixes her mascara.

“We’re going to have a movie night,” the redhead says, admiring her eyelashes. “All of us.” She turns with a flair and points to the other two. “It’ll be prime time for a little under the blanket action.”

You make a face while Allison coughs awkwardly, “You want to do a double date?”

“Triple if we can get (Y/N) a boytoy,” Lydia smirks.

“I’m not exactly in the market for boytoys,” you say, crossing your arms.

Lydia leans against the sink, “You will when I tell you half the lacrosse team wants to ask you out since you started helping with Coach.”

A nauseous feeling enters your stomach, “I’m not a huge fan of dating, Lydia.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handpick the perfect one for you.”

Allison was all skepticism as the bell rang, “There goes the last of English.”

“And now we can go straight to lacrosse practice!” Lydia claps her hands, “Let’s go shopping for (Y/N)’s boyfriend.”

The trio make their way to the field, each at a different level of enthusiasm, as you see Scott and Stiles in their uniforms. The boys were quick to pull you to the side.

“Why did you skip the rest of English?” Scott asks, “Is Allison okay?”

“We got an emergency text from Lydia,” you huff, “Turns out it was just the regular scheming and gossip.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows, “Like…?”

“Like how Lydia is going to find me a lacrosse boyfriend to match her and Allison’s lacrosse boyfriends…”

Scott and Stiles spoke at the same time:

“I’m Allison’s lacrosse boyfriend?”

“You’re getting a lacrosse boyfriend?”

You roll your eyes, “And with all our lacrosse boyfriends we’re going to have a ‘movie night’ to coverup the sexcapade I think Lydia’s planning.”

Scott was blinking really hard, and Stiles seems to have left on a thought tangent based on the slack jawed look on his face.

You snap your fingers, “I need your help with Lydia.”

“No,” Scott mumbles, “She’s scary.”

Stiles was still lingering on his imagination as he says, dreamily, “You don’t want a lacrosse boyfriend?”

Your hands fall on your hips, “I just don’t want Lydia to conduct a speed dating the lacrosse team weekend.”

“WESTBROOK!”

You close your eyes, “Yes, Coach!?”

Coach Finstock stomps over, clipboard in hand as he struggles to wrap the whistle around his wild haired head. “I need you to register the team for a spring retreat.”

You blink blearily, “A spring retreat, Coach?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s good for bonding and teamwork and… bonding.” He threw his hands up, “We have the funds this year so we’re going out.”

The teenagers share looks as you attempt to get a baseline of knowledge, “What’s our budget? When are the dates? Who do I contact?”

“Everything’s on my desk. Now get to it,” he puts the whistle between his teeth, “The district likes to hear about these things in advance.”

You back away to the locker rooms as you silently plead to Scott and Stiles to handle the Lydia situation. They were frantically whispering back to you, making exaggerated and confused gestures. You could spy Lydia and Allison talking to a lacrosse huddle by the bleachers.

For the next forty-five minutes you handle the paperwork that the principal and district employees emailed Finstock. You create an excel sheet for signups and a budget tracker. You contact a sports summer camp that allows retreats and field trips during the school year. All you need was to pass out permission slips and gather player information.

You were on your way out of the copy room when you spot Lydia on Jackson’s arm, conversing with some players on the sidelines. Scott was playing goalie while Stiles and a few others were doing a play on the field.

“Give me some good news, Westbrook,” Coach grumbles, bending his clipboard to near splintering levels. “Because these dancing monkeys need some incentive to play better than my recently deceased grandmother.”

“I’ve got everything scheduled here,” you say, not even bothering to show all your hard work. The Coach trusts you enough to have it finished. “I just need to get players information.”

“Done. Boys! Get your pansy ballet asses to line up next to Westbrook! Do what she says fellas or you’re going to miss one hell of a weekend retreat.”

A herd of maroon jerseys and shoulder pads stampede towards you on the bleachers. Sweaty, and slightly smelly, boys began to filter past as you write down their names, shirt size, contact information, and give them a permission slip. You could feel Lydia and Allison waiting on the bench behind you.

Lydia’s heel toed boot prods the middle of your back whenever a boy she particularly likes came up.

“Ben Manley,” a blonde-haired, freckled face says. “I like your jacket.”

Seeing as it was a jacket you borrowed from Stiles’ jeep, you smile, “Thanks, Ben Manley. Get this paper signed if you want to come on the retreat.”

He looks a little dejected as he walks past. Another boy comes up, shiny with sweat on his wonderfully dimpled cheeks. His hair was chestnut brown and curly, “Andrew Wickstrom,” he says with a smile, “Thank you for helping Coach. He hasn’t been as manic since you started.”

“I’m glad my hard work is paying off.” You hand him a permission slip as another sharp poke was felt in your back. “Just turn that in within the next week.”

“Thanks, (Y/N). See you in gym.”

Right, gym class that you were a TA in instead of attending. You told the other students that you already got those credits during homeschool, but really you had a doctors note detailing how under no circumstances were you to get your heart rate up.

While others ran laps and did pushups and played volleyball indoors, you graded papers for Finstock from various classes.

Scott and Stiles came next in line. Scott gave a lovestruck wave to the girl sitting behind you while Stiles whispers to you.

“Hanging in there?”

“I think Lydia is making a March Madness chart with eligible lacrosse players,” you hand the boys permission slips. “She’s relentless.”

“You think I’ll make the bracket?” he asks clumsily, his cleats sticking into the grass.

You shrug, a teasing tone to your voice, “She’s very particular about who she adds.”

Stiles hopes he wasn’t hearing sarcasm, or even worse – dislike, in your voice. He was shoved to the side by a much taller boy coming in next.

“Josh Arnett,” he says.

He was broad, darkhaired, light eyed, and currently getting a dirty look from Stiles.

“Hi there,” you say, a little starstruck at the intense eye contact. You immediately recognize him as a narcissistic asshole, one that you’d still gladly kiss and get your heart broken over. He was one that made you think Greek gods still existed. He was one that made dirty look sexy.

And you just said, ‘hi there.’

His smile was killer, “Are you going to be at the retreat?”

You ignore the boot in your back as you fumble over your words, “Probably. Coach has kind of grown dependent on me to function.”

He took a permission slip, “I’ll go if you go,” and he winks. Like full on ‘sent-a-warm-river-of-shivers-down-your-chest-and-to-your-middle’ kind of wink. Your uneven heart patters at the sight of him walking away. Those wide shoulder pads… slim waist… and tight little…

You snap out of it as you realize the boy next to you was doing the exact same thing. Danny Mahealani was gawking as he groans under his breath, “Damn I love being on the lacrosse team.”

You laugh, shoving him away in a playful gesture. Danny was by far one of your favorites on the team. Lydia was right above your shoulder in an instant.

“I think we have our winner.”

“What?” you say a bit breathless, “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Philanderer?”

Allison was choking on laughs as Lydia huffs, “Come on, just a little movie date tonight. You don’t have to see him again if it’s really that bad.”

“You’re just trying to get a hot squad together,” you poke her button nose before you stand. “But you can’t force a healthy relationship on incompatible people.”

“Sure I can,” she scowls, “Jackson and I are still together.”

You share a look with Allison before packing up, “If you two are bringing dates tonight, I might as well bring the one that flirted with me.”

“Oh, please,” Allison crosses her arms, “All of them were being fl…”

“Perfect,” Lydia claps, “I’ll talk with Josh in the locker room.” And she flounces off in her skirts, leaving Allison to walk with Scott.

And Stiles appears at your shoulder, grabbing your leftover papers and the laptop from your hands. “So, has Lydia decided your fate?” He tries not to sound too eager (and/or desperate) to learn about the evenings plans, but he was hovering a bit close as you rub your temples. Your heart rate was a little high since encountering Mr. Philanderer.

“We have a big movie date tonight.”

He holds his breath as he continues, “… slash sexcapade?”

You snort, “I’d rather clean out whatever is festering in Coach’s desk drawers than have a sexcapade this weekend.”

His next breath was deep and tight, “Then who are you watching the movie with?”

“Josh Arnett.” Stiles stuck to the grass while you walk a few steps ahead. “What?”

“You are going to spend the night with Jealous Josh? Judgy Josh? Jockstrap Josh? Forget that last one.”

You giggle, “Yes, I’m going out with Jaw-dropping Josh.” You pull on Stiles’ arm, “It’s just to appease Lydia.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Of course you don’t,” you say, “It’s going to be just a one time thing.”

“But what if he charms you and kisses you and you agree to more dates…” he watches a dreamy look slide onto your face. “Oh my god, you’re thinking about kissing him, aren’t you?”

You open the door to the locker room, full of sounds and smells alike. “It would be a crime not to acknowledge that he’s hot. And I’d have more status by saying I kissed him once.”

“I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

“Because I’m going on a date or because I’m going on a date with him?” You try to keep your tone civil as you’re surrounded by changing lacrosse players.

“Because he’s a douchebag that will probably do something to hurt your feelings and I don’t want that to happen.”

You take all your supplies from him, speckles of anger popping up your spine, “You trying to control who I go out with is a little douchy, don’t you think?”

“I’m not trying to control…” Stiles threw his gloves on the ground, “I’m trying to look out for you.”

“I’m not going to catch feelings for him,” you say indignantly, “I just want to try it Lydia’s way for once. It’s just one date, how bad could it be?” A sudden rush to your head makes you stumble, ramming your shoulder into a line of lockers.

Stiles jumps to your back, hands on your arms as you screw up your eyes. You take a deep breath and force the black spots from your vision. Slowly the voice of Stiles enters your ears.

“I’m fine,” you say, standing straight, “My heart was just beating a little fast.”  

“Because of our argument?”

You turn to the sound of his voice. The previous anger was gone. In its place were fearful honey eyes and an open, honest expression.

“Among other things,” you say, trying to catch your breath. “I’ll see you later.”

Stiles was screwing up his lips, chewing the inside of his cheek, clearly worried as you retreat. “Call me if something happens!”

 ~~~

You wait at your living room window for over an hour. You wait in your comfy blue sweater that’s cute enough for a date and soft enough for cuddling. You wait with styled hair and a little lipstick.

You could feel your parents spying from the kitchen, disappointed that you were being abandoned like this. A pain creeps into your chest that has nothing to do with your heart. It made your stomach twist and your head hurt.

It did not feel good to be stood up.

You text Lydia to give her an update. Her quick reply was that she and Jackson would pick you up and you could pick out the movie together.

You didn’t wave goodbye as you left the house, embarrassed by the turn of events. “I was such an idiot.”

Lydia turns in her seat, “You’re not an idiot, you look gorgeous.”

“I’m an idiot for getting excited about a night out with that jerk,” you play with your fingers. “And I knew from the beginning that he was an asshole, and I still got all ready trying to impress him.”

“No, you got ready because you wanted to feel hot. Remember you were going to one and done him tonight; Josh should be the one feeling disappointed that he isn’t here with you.”

You crack a faint smile, “Where’s Scott and Allison?”

“Oh, Allison’s hanging out with her aunt and so Scott decided to make other plans.”

“Meaning it’s just us three tonight?”

Jackson sighs begrudgingly, “Yep.”

“Then we might as well make it a chick flick night,” Lydia says, cheery despite her boyfriends obvious disdain for the situation. “Let’s watch The Notebook.”

“Absolutely not,” Jackson says, “We are not doing chick flicks just because your friend was dumped.”

Lydia purses her lips, “You’re not making this any easier, Jackson.”

“Yeah, I don’t really feel like crying, Lyds,” you attempt, the video store just down the road.

Jackson starts to ramble about different action and sports movies, “We never choose a movie that I pick. How about Hoosiers? Not only is it the best basketball movie ever, but it is also the best sports movie ever made.”

Lydia was quick with her reply, “No.”

“It’s got Gene Hackman and Dennis Hopper.”

You grimace at Lydia’s same short reply. “We can go in and browse for a little bit.” The night was shaping up to be one of the worst by far.

“I am not watching The Notebook again!” Jackson raises his voice.

“Come on, Jackson,” you say, opening the door. “Let’s just go look around for a second. I’ll help pick a good one.”

You walk to the first aisle inside, both of you on edge for different reasons. Jackson makes no effort to make conversation as you peruse the romantic comedy shelves. “She means well. She’s just trying to cheer me up.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry if I don’t want my date ruined by turning it into a girls night.”

You cross your arms, “I’m sorry.”

Jackson scowls at your drawn expression, “Arnett really is an asshole, by the way. I told Lydia as much.”

“Again, she meant well,” you sigh, “But thanks anyway.” A phone starts ringing in the background and kept echoing through the empty store. “Geesh, you would think someone would pick that up by now.”

“Hello?” Jackson calls out, “Is anybody working here?”

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing at a pair of shoes sticking out from an aisle further down. “Did someone fall off that ladder?” The medical assistant in you was already in action, pulling your phone out as you near the shoes.

You both move slowly, tense as the atmosphere gives an eerie flicker of lights. As you round the aisle of movies, there laying on the ground is the store manager – his throat clawed out.

“Oh my god!” you scream, gawking at the blood soaking the front of his shirt. It was fresh and glistening, splattered up onto his face and glasses.

“Holy shit!” Jackson yells, jumping back and onto the ladder. It moves enough that a broken light fixture falls, ripping the exposed wiring and plunging the entire video store into flickering darkness.

One second it’s dull yellow light, and the next an awful red dark, and then light again. It was making your vision blur with spots. You fall to your knees, sickened by the sudden wet warmth that soaks your pants.

Your heart was racing, beating like a war drum as you fought to control your breathing. Jackson was standing in the middle aisle, clearly shocked into silence. You were fumbling with your phone, attempting to dial any number that came up first.

There was a low, deafening growl that ripples through the store. You eye the claw marks on the store manager and immediately think of something big and terrifying. Jackson did too as he falls to hide behind a shelf.

You could hear the growling towards the back, too near for your liking. You shuffle away from the body, aware that Jackson had just left you to fend for yourself. A row of shelves falls behind you as you make your way to the front, crawling on your hands and knees.

You finally manage to dial a number, the first one you could think of. And the sound of Stiles on the other end brought you a sense of relief. He would do something.

“Hello.”

“Stiles…” you whisper, crawling along the front of the store and next to the windows.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?”

Your breath was shaky and came out in wheezes, “I need help.”

There was a rustling on the other end, “Where are you? (Y/N), you need to breathe.”

A snarling growl came from your left and you dread to turn your head, “Oh god…”

“(Y/N)! Stay awake – tell me where you are!”

But as you turn your gaze to the hot breath and red gaze of the growling creature, you let out a bloodcurdling scream. The giant monster swipes a paw at you, clawing at your shoulder and sending you spinning into the opposite wall. You slam against the brick with a sickening force, a crash of broken glass above you as the creature jumps through.

Shards of glass collect on your body, stinging some of your exposed skin. Warmth was spreading down your left arm as you fought to breathe. Your vision was blurring, and you were falling in and out of consciousness.

Jackson crawls out from under the fallen video shelves and finds you at the front, noticing Lydia screaming in the car. He kneels beside you and pulls out his phone, dialing 911.

~~~

Stiles sat in the parking lot of a burger joint, eating dinner with his father in the police car. He was reminiscent of the homecooked meal you made him, fondly thinking of his mother too.

“Did they forget my curly fries?”

He chides his father, “You’re not supposed to eat fries, especially the curly ones.”

The Sheriff smirks, “Well, I’m carrying a lethal weapon. If I want the curly fries, I will have the curly fries.”

Stiles took his bitten straw out of his mouth, “If you think getting rid of contractions in all your sentences makes your argument any more legitimate, you are wrong.”

His dad gave him a bewildered look, “Somethings off with you tonight. Did you take too much Adderall?”

“No,” Stiles grumbles, picking at his hamburger wrapper, “Just… thinking about school.” He watches his dad’s expression egg him on further, “… and lacrosse… and Scott…” He huffs and throws his dinner back in the brown bag. “And girls.”

The Sheriff scoffs, hiding a laugh, “Just the usual then.”

Stiles felt his phone ring and he was surprised to see your name appear. Thinking you’re going to tell him Josh Arnett is the asshat that they all knew him to be, Stiles says confidently into the phone, “Hello.”

There was a terrified whisper in reply, “Stiles…”

He sat straighter, his dad catching a soda before it fell to the floor. “(Y/N), what’s wrong?” You sound like you were on the verge of a panic attack.

“I need help.” Your breathing was erratic, and he knew your heartbeat was probably the same.

“Where are you? (Y/N), you need to breathe.” God forbid you faint in whatever terrifying situation you’re in.

There was a terrible growl behind your shaky words, and you sound so small when you cry, “Oh god…”

It sent a thrill of terror through Stiles, “(Y/N)! Stay awake – tell me where you are!” A million scenarios were flying through his mind. Was there a werewolf there? The alpha? What had happened to your date?

There was a deafening bloodcurdling scream as the phone must’ve fallen from your hand. It took Stiles a second to realize that it was you that screamed. “(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” Your cries flew to the side along with a crash of glass as the snarling beast left.

The line went dead and Stiles fell into a panic, “How do I… where… god, dad we have to find her!”

The Sheriff listens with sincerity as he had watched the entire conversation. “What’s going on?”

“That was my friend, (Y/N) Westbrook. She was supposed be out tonight on a date, but something went wrong. She sounded terrified and then there was a scream and a crash and then… nothing.” His arms were flailing as he sat on the edge of the car seat, “We have to find her!”

“Westbrook?” the Sheriff says, throwing his wrapper to the floor, “You don’t mean…”

“Yes! And I know you know about her heart.”

His dads eyes widen ever-so-slightly, “How do you know about…?”

Stiles slams a hand on the dashboard, half tempted to grab the steering wheel, “We have to go – she’s in serious trouble!”

“Now hang on just a damn minute,” was his reply, “We don’t even know where she is. And before you go flying out the window, let’s think about this with some sense. Do you know where she was supposed to be on her date?”

Stiles whacks his head, as if to jog some memories over the panic, “They were going to watch a movie.” He bounces his leg, pleading with his dad, “Please, dad, she’s going to have another fainting episode.”

The police radio turns on with some crackling feedback. The dispatcher on duty was a man judging by the voice. At least that meant Mrs. Westbrook wasn’t on shift that night.

“Unit One, do you copy?”

Stiles leapt for the radio and the Sheriff slaps his hand away. “Unit One, copy.”

“Got a report of a possible 187.”

Stiles jumps in his chair, shaking the whole car, “A murder!?”

“It’s at the local video store. Some teenagers are involved.”

The Sheriff confirms he’ll be there and felt a twang of guilt as he watches the fear bubble in his son. “Do you have confirmation on how many are hurt?”

“Negative, but the boy on the phone was in a frenzy about an animal attack.”

“Thanks, Johnson.” The Sheriff put the radio up, speeding down the street with sirens blaring. “Let’s not fear the worst, Stiles. They said there was just one possible 187.”

Stiles was biting his lips, drumming his knuckles over his mouth, “I should have stopped her from going out. I knew it was a bad idea.”

The drive was tense and painfully slow despite the speed the Sheriff was emitting. When they reach the video store it was swarming with EMTs and an ambulance. The store window was shattered, and Jackson was yelling at whatever emergency personnel he could. Lydia was huddled in a shock blanket on the curb, and sitting on the edge of the ambulance was you.

“Oh, thank god,” Stiles cries, “Thank you god.” He was falling out of the police car before it even made a complete stop. “(Y/N)!” He ran for the Beacon ambulance.

You were leaning against the side of the car, an EMT bandaging your left arm. You had a few butterfly bandages on your face and a rapidly developing bruise to the side of your head. There were dark circles under your eyes and your skin was ashy again.

“What happened?” he asks, quiet compared to the panic he was in moments ago.

You turn your wet eyes to him, gulping, “Stiles. There… there was a monster.”

“She hit her head pretty hard,” the EMT says, finishing your bandage. “She needs to go home and get some rest.”

Stiles gave the man a nod, gently sitting next to you and giving his full attention. “What kind of monster?”

“It was like a bear or a wolf,” you whisper, exhausted. “I was so scared.” The break in your voice put a hitch in his chest. “Josh bailed on me and then Scott and Allison. And I just wanted to go home.” You turn to him, “I want to go home, Stiles.”

He clenches his jaw, his throat bobbing, “Okay. Okay, we can go home…” He stole a shock blanket from the back and wraps you in it, careful around your left shoulder. “Did you faint at all?”

You stare off, disassociating, “In and out.”

The Sheriff calls your parents as you lean into Stiles. Your head nestles into the crook of his neck and shoulder. He couldn’t put his arm around your shoulders for fear of hurting the new wound. Instead he wraps his hand lower on your waist.

With his other hand he reaches for your fingers, worry still eating away at his stomach. “Where are we on the possibility of fainting right now?”

You groan, “60% chance.”

He gives a painful smile, wrapping his hand in yours. With his fingers he felt for the pulse in your wrist. It was a little high and stuttering unevenly.

“What do you hear?”

You hum, “Sirens. People. You.”

Stiles felt a warmth seeping into his chest, it was loud and suffocating and squeezed at his heart. “What do you smell?”

“Rubbing alcohol. And you.”

He plays with your fingers, tracing them with his thumb, “What do I smell like?” A small huff of air escapes your lips, and he likes to believe it was almost a laugh. “Cause you know exactly how I think you smell.”

You try to clear your throat, “Like sandalwood.”

“I’m not even sure what that is.”

“Like the woods,” you whisper. “Like rain, and trees, and honey.”

“How did you know my favorite pastime was bathing in forest rain and honey?” He imagines the twitch in your cheek against his neck was an attempt at a smile. “What do you feel?”

You fidget in his embrace, “Tired. Pain. Fear…”

“Okay, bad question.”

“Your hand,” you continue, “You’re warm. It’s nice.”

The inflation of his chest was reaching a bursting point, and he laid his face against your hair. Holding you there, he checks your pulse again with his long fingers. It had lowered since his arrival.

Your parents came soon after that, fretful and terrified of your condition. They wanted to take you to the hospital for a full checkup and your grip tightened on Stiles’ hand as his dad took him away.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers in your ear, your parents approaching. “I’ll see you later.”

~~~

It was very late into the night when Stiles climbs the garden trellis to your window. He was delighted to see that it was left cracked open. He pushes it open the rest of the way and falls inside, careful not to make too much noise.

You lay in bed with the lamp on, illuminating the room with its peachy color. You were in midnight blue pajamas with little stars printed on them. Your left arm was stiff and heavily bandaged, painkillers adding to your collection of prescription meds on the nightstand.

“Hey,” he whispers, gaining the attention of your wet gaze. You must’ve been crying for a long time judging by the redness of your eyes. “How was the hospital?”

“I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t believe you. He sat on the edge of your bed, itching to grab your hand again but needing a good reason. “When I got your call… it scared me shitless.” A chuckle escapes him, “My dad was ready to clobber me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” Stiles says, “You don’t have to be sorry for anything. You did nothing wrong. This was all just a terrible ordeal.”

You sniff, “I’m tired.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah, I just wanted to check on you before bed. I should let you sleep.”

“I’m not going to sleep.”

His chest tightens like earlier. He aches to touch you again, seeing you so fragile and tense. “(Y/N)…”

“Every time I close my eyes I see that thing clawing at me.” Another tear escapes your eyeline and runs down your cheek, “I’m too scared to sleep.”

“Well…” Stiles picks at a seam in his pants, “How about you call for your mom? I’m sure she’ll…”

“I don’t want to worry them anymore. I’m tired of making them worry so much.”

Stiles chews on his lip, “Hmm, okay. How about I stay? I’ll just sit at your desk and keep watch.”

You watch him with swollen eyes, “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I’m worried about you too. And I feel better knowing I can keep you calm.” He wasn’t going to tell her that for the last three hours he had been replaying their moment outside the ambulance. The way you leaned into him, and he got to hold your hand and listen to you talk about how nice it was to be next to him.

“I want you to stay,” you say quietly. “But you can’t sit in a desk chair all night.” You pat your uninjured hand on the mattress beside you.

Stiles feels warmth flood his cheeks, “Oh, yeah… well – great.” He sits down and stretches out on top of the covers, “This is a much more comfortable spot to keep watch.”

You pull at your blankets, turning towards him and grounding yourself in his presence. “There’s a squeaky floorboard in the hallway. You’ll hear if my parents are coming.” You place a hand on his forearm, “Thank you for being here.”

His throat bobs at your touch, “Always.” And he lays there well into the night, cursing when your hand falls away in your sleep. He waits for sunrise to leave, occupying himself with watching your breathing patterns and checking your pulse every once in a while. He even brushes the hair from your face and flattens the arm bandages that start to unstick.

He was just memorizing the curve of your nose and the slant of your cheekbone when the sun broke over the horizon.

He sighs, rubbing hard at his face. If this is what having a crush on you was like… it was going to consume him.  

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs

[absolutelyhugh3s]

michigan maize | ee73

ethan edwards x reader!

more loosely based song fics!! this one is tennessee orange by megan moroney

thank you guys so so much for all the love and support on forever and ever!!! y’all seriously don’t understand how much it means to me!! i love every single one of you <33

word count: 1.13k (not my gif!)

“hi munchkin! how are you doing?” my mothers honey-like voice filled my ears as she answered my call.

oh god, i'm really doing this.

“hi mama” i smiled even though she couldn’t see me “im good”

“i've got some news” i said nervously, clenching the comforter of my bed in my fist.

“oh honey is everything alright?” her slight chicago accent peaking through.

“dont worry im doing okay, just please dont tell dad?” i pleaded with my mother.

“y/n did something happen?” she asked worriedly.

“yes mama. he’ll blow a fuse if he found out” my father wasn’t big on me going to the umich. being the coach of msu hockey, he wanted me to go there.

but when i received an amazing scholarship to play lacrosse, i had to take it.

the first thing he told me when i left for school was “don't run off with any of those hockey boys y/n, they are very bad news.”

well, he’s clearly never met ethan.

“i know you raised me to know right from wrong, but god he makes it so hard” i chuckle “he?” my mother questions.

“i met somebody mama, hes brunette, and he's got these big brown eyes, and he opens the door for me everywhere i go!” 

ethan and y/n go on small date’s every wednesday night. its an awkward time for some, but for them, its the only time in their busy schedules that they can be together.

today, their date night was dressing up super fancy (as barbie and ken of course) seeing the barbie movie, and eating at a small diner a few blocks from the movie theater.

ethan had planned out the entire thing and the couple had a blast. once ethan had driven her back to her on campus apartment, she thanked the older boy, kissed him goodbye and began to exit the car.

“WAIT” ethan yelled. he jumped up out of the drivers seat, exiting the car and running around to open his girlfriend’s car door. “ok now you can go” he smiled

the small action made the girl melt like a snowman in summer. the defenseman than sprinted to the main door of her apartment complex, opening that for her as well.

“m’lady” he held out a hand as y/n walked through the door a blushing mess. he than took her hand in his, interlocking their fingers, leading her up to her apartment.

though the action was so little, it made her fall in love with him more and more every day.

“he just makes me so happy! hes like perfectly perfect! god! i've never felt this way mama!” i ramble.

“hun” my mother chuckles. “whats his name?” i then realize i left out the most important part “ethan! ethan edwards! mama you would love him” i smiled.

“but back home id be sinning” the smile fades slightly from my face. “why is that dear?” it seems as though she could hear what was going though my mind.

“mama, hes got me wearing maize and blue for him” i sarcastically laughed. 

“you should come to my game tomorrow” ethan said, running his hands through the ends of the y/h/c girls hair.

“the boys would love to see you, plus i get to have my own little good luck charm in the stands” the boy smiled like a small child at the girl laying on his chest.

“really?” she looked up at the brown haired boy with big doe eyes. “yes really” he grinned.

“here” he moved the smaller girl off of his chest to stand up from his bed.

he rummages through his closet, looking for a specific item of clothing.

suddenly a large yellow piece of fabric is thrown at her “you can even wear my jersey” he smiles.

the girl holds it up a large ‘edwards 73’ stares at her. “you know what e? i think i will”

“oh hes an athlete?” my mom says, surprised.

“yeah hekindasortamaybeplayshockey” i rush out, nervous of what my mother would say.

“im gonna need you to slow down y/n/n” she chuckles

“he plays hockey mama. he had me wearing his jersey at a msu game! of course i want the spartans to win but still! his smile! oh his smile! it makes me forget i look better in green!” i gush about my boyfriend.

“so thats why you didnt want your father to know” my mom teases, clearly finding enjoyment in this entire situation.

“oh please forgive me mama, i like him a lot” i beg “oh i think its a lot more than like sweetheart” my mom says. “what?”

“oh honey you are head over heels for ethan” she laughs “i've known for ten minutes and i can tell” 

“oh god im in love with a wolverine!” i exclaim.

“babygirl its ok! the worlds not gonna end! growing up in chicago i said i would never date a red wings fan, guess what? i married one!” she laughs.

“so you’re not mad?” i asked hesitantly.

“of course not y/n! its my job as your mother to always be supportive of you” i could tell she was smiling though the phone.

i talked with my mother for a while longer about random stuff for about another half hour. “mama i have to go, ethan should be here in a few minutes” i say.

“alright sweetie, invite him home would ya?” my mother asks. “of course mama, i love you” “i love you too sweet girl, bye bye”

i clean things up for about ten minutes when i hear a knock at my apartment door.

“you can come in e!” i shout. “ok!” he shouts back before walking in.

i put the last few dishes in the cabinet when i feel two muscular arms snake around my waist and a face bury into the crook of my neck.

“hi baby” he mumbles, tightening his hold on my waist.

“hi e” i giggled. “guess what i did today” i added.

“hmm climbed mount everest?” “nope” “slayed a dragon?” “nope” “killed someone?” “god no!”

“i told my mom about us” i smiled. ethans parents have known for a few weeks now about us, but he didnt wanna push me to tell mine. he wanted me to be comfortable with doing it myself.

ethan spins me around, his hands steading my hips. “you did?” he smiles.

“i did” i mirror his smile. the much larger boy then pulls me into the tightest hug possible.

“im so proud of you baby” he says, kissing the crown of my head.

“i have a question though” i place my chin on his sternum so im looking up at ethan. “whats up love?”

“what are you doing for spring break?”

[abilouwrites]

ARE YOU MINE

Zuko “someone to call mine” part two!

@multifandomedsimp ily bcz u commented and that shit makes my day

It takes me two days before I text the number on the gift card, “hello?” A voice answers, I know that voice, “this is Zuko”

“I know.. it’s y/n from the other day. You gave me your number on the gift card” I nervously say, “um this is so random but would you maybe want to—“

“Yes”

“I haven’t even said the question”

“Just yes” His voice feels so desperate and it makes me feel wanted in a way I’ve never felt for a guy before.

It doesn’t take long for us to meet up, “are you sure it’s not too late?” I ask walking into the locker rooms, “I’ve got lacrosse practice”

“No, I just want to see you that’s all” he replies, “have fun”

I finish up two hours later; shower and drive to the park where we’re going to walk about. I see him; baggy jeans and crewneck which is a contrast to my leggings and hoodie. My damp hair down and scrunched up, “hey” he smiles as I walk up to him; hands tucked into my pockets.

“Hi, it’s cold out tonight. Didn’t the groundhog say it was supposed to be warm now?” I laugh a little, but my joke feels stupid now, “do you have any siblings?” I ask

He sighs, “I have a sister, Azula but she’s not right in the head” he looks down a little disappointed but sighs and looks back up, “what about you”

“I have a little sister, Suki. She’s definitely a character” I smile a little, “she’s annoying to all annoyingness but I would kill for her”

“A little sister seems nice, um how was your practice?” He asks; we’re both a little awkward and it’s nice to feel this way again

“It was good, lots of drills. Especially being Varsity captain there’s a lot of pressure to do well” I ramble, “do you do any sports?” I ask, nervously stuffing my hands into my pockets to fidget and pull at my nails

“No. I just make tea” he laughs a little, it’s a nervous and hoarse thing but it eases me comfort that he feels as I do, “I used to play soccer but I lost the passion for it. You know?” He gives a short smile as we circle around, and we find ourself back at the tea shop, “tea?”

“That..” the wind brushes through my jacket, “would be so nice” I smile as he leads me inside, we don’t take long before we get comfortable with each other. Sitting next to each other, talking about whatever.

“What was your mom like?” I ask, rubbing my hands on the cup of lotus tea to keep warm, “can I ask that?”

“I guess, she was kind, and sweet. The only one who actually tried to help poor Azula. My uncle has stepped up in her place and in my father’s too” he confesses, he looks so sad. I wrap my hand around his loose one that hangs by his side. Twisting my fingers intertwined with his.

“My dad left when I was four. I never really knew why but throughout my parents marriage he..” there’s a long exhale and I lean against him, bunching my knees to my chest, “was cheating on my mom. But she was pregnant with Suki” I pause trying to remember what happened. There was a fight, breaking glass but, “I can’t remember anything else”

“Thank you, for sharing that with me. My father was the same, he never cheated on my mother but he wasn’t a kind man either. I lied before. My scar doesn’t come from a tea pot exploding” he confesses, looking down ashamed at his own lie that doesn’t seem too horrible, “my father burned me. I think it’s a blessing I don’t exactly remember what happened”

“Yes. Maybe it is a good thing. I really like you Zuko” I admit. Maybe it’s the warm tea in my stomach or how talking about things that have hurt me so bad and not crying over it. It makes me feel good in some way

“I really like you too”

[webslingingslasher]

can u tell us more ab peters first time? or is that a secret😢

how about his first kiss? :’))))

peter's first time will be in the cherry series. (described)

first kiss? yeah, i gotchu.

your fingers tap on peter's skin, his chest is slightly sticky from dried sweat. 'when did you have your first kiss?'

his thumbs graze down your arms, 'first kiss or first real kiss?' you lightly kiss his bicep, 'both?' peter takes a deep breath as he retells the story, you close your eyes and try to picture it yourself.

'i was in the fifth grade and i had this wicked crush on julie thompson. somehow her friends found out and told her and she met me at the bus stop after school, and i thought i was hot shit because her dad always picked her up- but she told me that she could 'obviously' never date me-'

julie thompson was a fifth grader and you'd beat her ass.

'but she was very flattered and said she had something for me. she told me to close my eyes and i was expecting like a note or something but nope, she kissed me.' you can hear the smile in his voice when he says it. you don't blame him, it's a mostly cute story and it's juvenile.

'then she told me that i would always be her first kiss but i could never tell anybody. i never did. well, until right now. and my first real kiss was in high school, her name was lauren gravy- yes, i said gravy- and she was in the marching band. she asked if i wanted to see something she learned at bandcamp over the summer and i said sure and she fucking stuck her tongue down my throat. i was so scared.'

'you were scared?' you can't help the small fit of laughter. peter clicks his tongue, 'no, c'mere.' peter not so nicely cups your face and tugs it to his, 'wanna see something i learned at band camp?' he's reenacting it.

'sure.' you make a muffled scream and smack his shoulder, he's not exaggerating, it is scary. 'yeah, not so funny now, is it?'

'was she at least hot?'

peter nods confidently. 'fucking smoke show. but i never went around her again. i hope she got better at it.' well, if all he had to go off of was a pity kiss and a slobbery one he became pretty damn good at it.

'how'd you get so good at kissing?'

peter snorts, 'cause i had a girlfr-' peter catches himself, 'cause i had a girl teach me. some other girl from high school, nothing important.'

'my first kiss was brad allen and he was missing a front tooth. he ditched me on our first date for a pig farmers daughter.'

'that's so bold of you to share. you wouldn't be able to boil that information out of me.'

'he lost it playing lacrosse but his dad was a dentist so i don't know why he never got it fixed.' peter pushes your head back down to his chest. 'i think we should take a nap.'

'if you lost a front tooth i'd still kiss you.'

'can't hear you. i'm sleeping.' 

[cherriesformatt]

Hi could I request Matt x reader

They are in their senior year of Highschool and it’s prom season.The reader is sad because she never had any romance in her life and dreams of a promposal.Matt really likes the reader and even though he doesn’t like bring attention to him he surprises the reader.

promposal || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

warnings: none, fluff!

word count: 1,1k

a/n: I hope you like it and I did not ruin the idea!

I came home and tossed my bag and car keys on the cubby.

"Hi! I'm home!" I yelled to check if anyone was back from work or in case of my brother from school.

Only echo answered me and I sight of relief because the last thing I wanted was to small talk with everyone how my day was.

I went to my room, stripped from my clothes and wrapped my body in white, fluffy robe. I took change of clothes, my phone and dragged my feet to my parents master bathroom. They had huge bath tube and my mom had all those fancy stuff from TikTok to make a relaxing bath.

I made myself one with lots of bubbles and got in. I didn’t put any bath bomb or candles because it would give me a headache. The only thing I did was putting music on from my phone on the speaker in the bathroom.

I hated today. And all of this week to be honest.

It was this time of the year again. Senior year to be specific. Thats why I hated it even more because it's the last time ever for that.

For prom.

Everyone including my best friends were proposed to go to prom by their boyfriends. In every cute way possible. I was only there to fake smile and be happy for them but also a little jealous. Because here is the thing.

I was always so focused on school and soccer that I never, ever let any boy near me. It is a miracle that my best friends are still my friends. I was single through all high school, never went on any date and when I rejected some boys no-one asked me again. Which brings us here, I also was never asked to go for a prom. This time it was a little sad because it is going to be my last prom.

"I hate myself" I said and made my body to go under hot water while Frank Ocean was playing in the room.

I stayed like that for a second but I heard my music stopped for a massage notification so I sat back up and took my phone from the ground next to the bath tube splashing some water on the floor.

I checked the massage and I was a little surprised. It was from Matt Sturniolo. I knew him because his brother Chris was dating my best friend Maggie. He sometimes drives us to parties or games. He and his triplet brothers played hockey and lacrosse in our school. They were pretty good. Nick also did our yearbook this year. Matt and I never really had any class together and beside knowing him as Chris's brother I didn't really spend time with him. He didn’t usually stay at parties after games and even if he did he spent time with his team mates I did with mine.

I smiled a little. Was he kind of asking me out? What should I do?

Wasn't I just complaining that nobody asked me out?

And I said yes.

What am I even going to wear? It’s march and it’s going to be cold on the beach.

I spend and hour in the bath and than I ate early dinner and started to get ready.

I did blow out on my hair and put a light make up on. I didn’t want to look like I care too much. I put some jeans on and a hoodie with white Air Force 1. They had blue flowers custom painted for me on them by one of my friends.

When I got a text massage from Matt that he is waiting outside a little before 7 I told my parents I’m leaving and took my purse and locked the door behind me.

He was leaning on his car and smiled when he saw me. He looked nice. We kinda matched the outfits. He also was wearing a hoodie and jeans and white air forces.

“Hi… it’s nice to see you not on the field next to mine” he said.

That’s true. We usually just had practice or a game next to each other.

“Same to you… you stole my outfit tho” I laughed as he opened car doors for me.

“I can live with matching your outfit” He smiled looking at me and he closed the doors and went to the driver seat.

We drove to the beach talking about everything and nothing. Mostly about sports and music and the midterms.

“We’re here let’s go?” He smiled when we parked.

I got out of the car and he came to me.

“Okay I know it will sound weird but can you close your eyes? And not peek?” Ha asked me.

He was nervous?

“Okay…. But if you want to kill me my dad is going to find you and probably kill your brother for accident” I said closing my eyes and sticking my hand out for him.

He giggled at what I said and toon my hand to lead me.

Sun was setting already so it is going to be dark soon. I’m not sure what we are doing here.

I heard some sounds as we were walking on the sand but mostly it was sound of the ocean.

“Okay I’m going to let go of your hand… don’t open your eyes just yet” he said.

He dropped my hand and I stand waiting for him to tell me to open my eyes. I heard some voices too.

What the hell is happening.

“Okay… you can open your eyes now” Matt said from somewhere in front of me.

I opened my eyes and they automatically widened.

There was some lanterns going up into the sky. Like I my favorite movie.

Tangled.

I looked at them and then down to see where they are coming from. Whole lacrosse and hockey team were putting them up.

There he was standing in the middle with a poster that said:

Light up my night at prom?

And there was a painting of the tower from the movie. It was beautiful. I bet Maggie did it.

Nobody ever did anything like that for me.

“Matt what the hell?” I said coming up to him I’m pretty sure I had tears in my eyes now.

“Sooo?” He looked at me unsure of my reaction.

“Of course..” I said looking at him and wiped my cheeks with my hoodies sleeve.

Whole teams started cheering and I laughed.

“How did you even know? That I like the movie…” I asked.

“Well I talked to Chris and Chris talked to Maggie and you know…” he scratched back of his neck.

“Gosh I feel like I could kiss you right now…” I whispered.

He smiled and put one of his hands on my cheek and the other one wondered on my back to pull me closer to him. He looked deep in my eyes looking for reassurance but I just connected our lips together.

It couldn’t get any better. The best promposal I could ask for.

[pleasantglitterflower]

Heart Podium (Joe Burrow x OC x Max Verstappen)

Many times our childhood dreams cannot be realized, due to our overly fertile imagination, many times our professional childhood dreams cannot be realized either, either due to the delay in getting a place at the university we dreamed of or the lack of opportunities when it comes to working in the arts or sports. 

There's always plan b.

Kayleigh was one of those kids, it's true that dreaming of being a Backyardigan was difficult, but she was left with plan b, a plan that was broadcast every Sunday before the NFL, her father would have lunch, afternoon snack and dinner on the same channel, watching the drivers and then the Cleveland Browns, his favorite team in the state. 

That was the most exciting thing Kayleigh had in her childhood, watching Formula One followed by a good Browns game, arriving at school and eagerly wanting to talk to someone, but the girls didn't like the subject and asked to talk about something else and the boys laughed at her.

Leaving her and her mom's cookies in the stands.

Until one day she plucked up the courage and asked her father to play go-kart, finding a track in the state of Ohio in 2004, it wasn't the easiest task in the world, but he managed it and little by little, it went from being a joke to a serious thing.

Until high school came and she discovered that there were two ways to get into college: she had to be very smart or know how to play some sport, in 2011 in the United States, go-kart doesn't really mean a sport, far from it.

Not knowing what to do, she decided to confront her parents in her first year.

Not wanting to do anything, since it wouldn't help her with her possible future career was a very risky step.

For her parents, it's not even worth mentioning, they wanted to freak out, exchanging the stability of a degree for a go-kart race, for them it's crazy, especially when they've always prepared themselves financially for it, when they always prepared for her to enter university, which is not the cheapest thing,and it was in these uncertainties and in the midst of this conflict of whether or not to go to college that she tried to get interested in more conventional sports.

But when she tried out, she was terrible at soccer, average at lacrosse, slow at basketball, tough at gymnastics, shy at cheerleading, short at volleyball, afraid of water when swimming and she's a girl, she couldn't play American football.

It was during one of these that she found herself making a fuss.

-You're going to regret it, you know, you're losing the best wide receiver the world has ever seen -  She yelled.

One of the guys looked at her in fright, while others wondered who she was.

-You know you were running for the cornerback spot, right? A blond guy tells her.

-Yeah, I know, that's exactly why - She sighs tiredly.

-Because you came to try for the spot right here, you know they don't choose girls easily.

-I’ve tried everywhere, I came here just to cause trouble, I had nothing to do” She confesses, leaving him confused.

-Really?

-Yes-They end up laughing.

-You don’t like a specific sport, maybe if you try there you’ll do better, maybe explain to the coach that you like it and want to learn and she’ll let you stay-He suggests.

-I like watching, but not putting it into practice, I’m doing this more so my parents can see that I’m not good, I already know I’m not good-She sighs.

-I’m sorry-He gives her a half smile, until she feels a crack.

-Geez, I haven’t tried baseball yet-she remembers and gets up, leaving the equipment there.

-They don’t accept girls either-He reminds her.

-That’s exactly why-Kayleigh laughs.

-By the way, what's your name?-She stops, holding the door.

-I'm Joseph-he says shyly.

-I'm Kayleigh, see you soon, Joseph.

And yes, she tried baseball, but the first time she held the bat, it ended up between the legs of the boy next to her, who fell to the ground groaning in pain.

Kayleigh was thrown out.

Fate was cruel to her when it came to sports, but it only reinforced the idea that she had to continue in karting.

After meeting Joseph, she would see him someday, as she thought, but she would see him every day, until the prom, when after two years together, she finally realized that they would have to separate by force,and how that hurt, not only for her but for him too.

-I can’t believe you’re going to Europe, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’m going to tell Ohio State to go fuck itself, I’ll go with you wherever you have to go, but I don’t want to be away from you.-His cheeks already reddened from the cold, he said.

-Stop saying that, you’ve been given an incredible opportunity, you have to take advantage of it.-She tried to convince him.

-But I can’t imagine being away from you.-Hearing that, she lay down on his lap.

-We’ll get through this, you’ll see, and we’ll be strong.

The first year away was the hardest, not only for Joseph, but for her parents too, because seeing their daughter try to make a living racing karts, traveling all over Europe, was something that made them so proud, but at the same time so apprehensive.The second year seemed to be easier. They were already well accustomed to the routine of video calls, social media, messages, letters. They sent polaroids to hang up. Once, Joseph even caught himself putting his perfume on the paper to make sure she could smell him. They exchanged gifts, everything.

Until the careers arrived on television, Joseph could sit down and look for the channel to watch her and she could pick up the phone and watch the college divisionals.The fifth year passed, the sixth too, and then the seventh, when Joe finally took off in his career in American football, being drafted by the Cincinnati Bengals.

And the following year, Kayleigh did what she never imagined she would be able to do: she reached Formula One, after almost dying waiting for this event. Of course the party was huge, she returned to her country with all possible honor, suddenly a little girl from Ohio was going to compete for a title for a team and everyone wanted to know what this little girl does and better, where are the American boys who are not having the same prominence?But she could never say that it had any real effect on the American public. Formula One is still a playboy thing for them, to the point where they even consider golf a more accessible sport.

Just as she was there for Joe's big debut, he was there for his big debut, of course,but their contracts ended up preventing more contact. They had to train, they had to focus, they couldn't travel long distances or do physical work before their work, and they also couldn't be too far away from their work.

It allowed them to spend a few moments together. She would catch his last games if he made the playoffs and he would catch her first races,so much time apart didn't make their love diminish. On the contrary, seeing each other's achievements seemed to only strengthen their love for each other.And even without knowing, there was someone who was not at all happy with this growing love.

-Joe said he'll call me soon.-She jumps around the room excitedly, waiting for someone to call her to give her the prize.

-Hmm- Max makes an annoyed face, leaving his helmet on the stand.

-That's cute, it's the middle of the night in the United States, isn't it?-Carlos asks her, all smiles.

-Yes, it's the middle of the night and he stayed up.-She doesn't hide her smile.

-Really the last of the romantics.-Max rolls his eyes.

-Stop being annoying, she's so happy.-Carlos watches her like a doting father.

Max glares at him, enough for the Spaniard to avoid him and stay quiet.

And of course, the next day, as always happens after every race, Joe sends her a huge bouquet, with a dedication and, when he is present, romantic letters.For most people around him, it is just his European or rather, Dutch humor.

But for those who actually live with him and see the mistakes he makes and notices, the way he treats her when she talks about other things and when she talks about Joe, they understand very well.

Max messed up her hair, trying to free her mind from those thoughts, from that feeling, but realized it was difficult.After another podium with her, another trip to a random bar with everyone involved, the country's biggest celebrities and everything else, he could no longer stand two things.

The first, Charles flirting even with the walls of the place.

The second, the fact that she trusted George more than him, to tell him the reason for her 37th breakup with Joe.

-I honestly don't understand you guys, one moment you say that distance is good, the next you break up because of distance, make up your mind damn it-George, tired of the situation, slammed his hand on the table.He fixed his hair, looked around and composed himself.

-Sorry man, I got carried away-He spoke like most people do sometimes, treating her like a man.

-I know it's not the most normal thing to do, but it tires me out-She said finally, she didn't want to waste her friend's night with this, much less make him occupy his mind with his problems.

She went to the bar to order another drink, without realizing who was next to her.

-Did you bump into something?-She heard someone ask and then looked to the side to see Max.

-What do you mean?-She immediately became confused.

-Your leg is kind of purple,-he says.

-Oh, let's just say I might have fallen on my suitcase- She rolls her eyes.

-It's the third time this season.-He holds back his laughter.

-She goes everywhere and sometimes it happens.-She shrugs.

-Your suitcase can make you more purple than your boyfriend, I think it's time to trade him for her.-Max takes a sip of his drink, savoring every note of it, satisfied with yet another mean comment about Joe. He knows how distance affects him and that's nothing more than a psychological game, sending indirect messages that hurt.

As always, she remained silent, discreetly observing her leg and trying to cover the bruise, with her face reddened.

-I can't blame him, he's going after his dream." She answers for the first time, even if a while later and too quietly, as if she wasn't even there anymore.

Until the girl asks herself, why is Max worried about this?

For a second, Max almost misses the destination of the glass, looking at her.

-Really, there are men whose only dream is to chase a ball, not to have trophies and a woman who loves him.-He takes the opportunity to retort.

-Thanks for ruining the rest of my night, Max, you're always so sensitive.-She answers, choked, finishes her drink and walks towards the exit with long strides.

Max remains there at the bar, staring at the various bottles, some full, others half full, thinking that once again she leaves angry with him, because he doesn't defend her dear Joe.

-You don't have to be so rude all the time, I know you're used to guys around here, but you have to realize that there are girls around here now and they deserve to be treated with kindness and affection, did you know that women are people too?Lewis appears at her side, irritated by the situation.

-Have you stopped talking, Lewis Senna Hamilton?He scoffed.

Max was already drunk enough to almost drag himself back to the hotel.

And even after spending the next few hours thinking about whether or not to knock on her door, as he always does when he’s drunk, he decided it wasn’t the right time.

When he woke up with the sun and that strange feeling, since that’s usually when he goes to sleep, thanks to the jet lag, he allowed himself the luxury of staying a few more minutes in that comfortable bed, under all those sheets, grabbing the fluffiest of his pillows to hug, trying to get it into his head that he was hugging her, trying to get it into his mind that he woke up next to her that morning, it seems he was so used to doing this every morning that with each passing day, the images became clearer in his mind and the sensations stronger.

And for the next race he had a surprise, he jumped out and took off his helmet and head protector, looking in disbelief at the smiling couple on the sidelines watching the track.

-Joe, should I congratulate you or say my condolences? Max gives his best sarcastic smile.

-I don't understand- Joe's radiant smile fades.

-What do you expect from a player? Max grumbles, he had meters around to pass and reach his destination, a screen to review his training, but he made sure to pass between the two, bumping into Joe.

He placed his helmet on the table next to him, silently completing the malicious thought, about his possible dubious qi, when he saw Joe approaching through the shadow on the ground, his smile only grew wider.

Kayleigh decided to leave, aware that they would have some kind of argument.

-I don't understand your stubbornness, Max- Joe confessed, watching Max from a few inches away.

-I say it over and over again, what can you expect from a player? Max rolls his eyes.

-And what are you, don’t you play in this?Joe retorts.

-I’m a pilot, it’s different-he says, convinced.

On the side of the track, tired and just waiting for time to pass, the topic, as always, was just one.

-Max is PMSing- Lando comments while sitting on the floor.

-We should take up a collection and pay a gynecologist, so she can prescribe some medicine, I don’t know- Hulkenberg adds.

-I think what he needs is a psychiatrist, one minute he’s calm, the next he wants to kill you, he’s crazy- Lewis concludes.

-He just needs some time to calm down, recharge his batteries and rest- George defends him.

But he ends up getting angry looks from everyone.

-For this and other reasons, I stay away from that snake pit they call Red Bull, God forbid I have to deal with that creature - Charles says, looking disdainfully at their reserved space.

-No offense, Kay- He makes his observation.

-No offense, I can't stand it anymore- She confesses.

-Not even Kayleigh throws this tantrum when she's on her period, honestly we don't even know when that happens, thanks for sparing us- Lando thanks her, making her laugh.

-I think there are certain details that aren't necessary- She comments.

Max walks past the group with firm steps.

-No one moves their ass in this place, then they complain about the podium- He sends the indirect message with his angry eyes.

Everyone there exchanges glances.

-Hold the Japanese- Ricciardo warns.

-Why? Charles finds the request strange.

-I’m warning you, hold the Japanese guy-he repeats.

And indeed, poor Tsunoda is at breaking point with Max.

Joe left, but Max’s sourness didn’t.

During breakfast at the hotel, Pierre’s strawberries were more sour than expected.

-Her boyfriend leaves and doesn’t get a bruise on his neck, he’s a real wimp- Max grumbles, savoring his waffles.

George’s eyes widen, he wipes his mouth with the napkin next to him.

-Max, how rude. He glances at Max out of the corner of his eye.

But Pierre has the most priceless face, he looks like he’s eaten something spoiled.

-Jesus, you weirdo, who says that, keeps an eye on others, has he become a tax inspector now? He left his comment.

-Watch out guys, there are people watching our necks- Lando dramatically covers his with his sweatshirt.

-I think you should start thinking about where and when you say certain things, Max- Carlos warns him, earning his laugh.

-Why? Do you know anything?” The Dutchman stared at him.

-Common sense Max, just common sense- he retorted.

-That was ridiculously sexist, Max, if that’s what you say, imagine what you think- Lewis gives him his best disapproving look.

-Have you finished your testimony Lewis?Max provokes him.

Max’s life became increasingly complicated there, with the boys and his provocations, little by little choosing to be alone, but not as much as Kayleigh's, who, in addition to having to put up with his mood swings, also has to put up with Joe's suspicions.

His jealousy used to have no name, but now it has a first and last name. Kayleigh only sees one reason for it, the fact that they work together, nothing else could make sense, andexplaining it doesn't seem to help, Joe found himself wondering why they exchanged smiling handshakes live, if she hates him so much.

-Do you really think that after the race, I'll remember how much I hate him? Of course not, Joe. I just think that I won or that I need to improve, hug everyone involved and leave. - She explains, pacing back and forth across the room.

-I don't want to be the annoying guy, but he doesn't look like he hates you, he seems to take advantage of your innocence. - Joe says almost desperately.

-What innocence, Joe? - She asks him.

-Kay, I don't want to fight over this guy. I'm just saying that this isn't something that makes me comfortable. You're walking around half the world with them in a place full of men working, next to several men, and that bothers me. Not only because of jealousy, I don't know, maybe they'll try to do something to you. -

-Jesus, Joe, don't say something like that. I understand your side, okay. I'm not saying you're wrong, but you need to trust me. I won't betray your trust. I haven't done that in all these years. Why would I do it now? - She tries to calm him down.

-Sorry for stressing you out. - He sighs heavily.

And it's been like this for a while.

Even when they're not at work, free to visit somewhere, Max seems to show up in the same place as her or simply in a place nearby, which makes Joe even more suspicious.

But Max couldn't stop there. When he saw her calmly standing there taking some notes, Max approached her with the excuse of seeing what she was writing down and it was then that he took the opportunity to bring his face too close to hers, which left her somewhat speechless. He placed his hand on her hip, giving her a discreet caress.

-Studying for the race, kitten?- He smiled at her reaction, a mix of confusion and embarrassment.

-Sorry Kay, I forget that you're sensitive to male touches. He laughed, leaving her blushing and finally going where he wanted.

She closed her eyes, not liking it at all. His provocations were getting more and more personal with Joe.

Whenever Max managed to get the slightest hint, he would walk away smiling.

But this time, George decided to confront him.

-You should be ashamed of touching women who are in a committed relationship inappropriately- he says, somewhat indignantly.

-Have you had your tea yet, dear English nobleman?" George rolls his eyes.

-Max, I'm serious, that's not cool, it could cause unnecessary confusion- he insists.

-You look so cute saying 'unnecessary'.Max laughs at the guy, who decides to get more serious.

-When Joe gets pissed off and comes to punch you in the face, don't tell me I never warned you.

-Before he punches me in the face, he'll punch you in the face, because you're the little friend who's always around, hugging and advising when they break up. Do you really think he's going to come after me, George?

-I'm in a committed relationship, I've never done this with bad intentions. He doesn't like the accusation.

-Wow, now I'm confused, is this a swing or a threesome? Max laughs to himself.

George stopped walking at the same moment, offended and even more shocked by another accusation.

When he realized it, Max took a few steps back and ruffled his hair.

-Just kidding, George, you're so cute.

But even his happiest days get bad when he sees the two of them together on social media, kisses, dates, more kisses. Max is sure that if Joe knew how jealous he is of him, for being able to love the woman he loves, he would definitely dig a hole to the center of the earth and stay there, far from Max's eyes.

He has thought countless times about using Joe's number saved on his phone, to send some manipulated photo or one that would have a double meaning, but knowing the two of them, he believes that even that would be reason to break up and get back together after a few days.

But it's these photos, the flowers, the letters, her giggles in the corners of the hotel, that make him freak out when he shouldn't. After being next to her in one of the endless meetings and noticing his new gift, a ring on her finger, that was enough for Max to find any reason to start stomping his feet and shouting. And sometimes he even measures her before the race, in the best possible way, as if he were casting a curse on her. -Damn, did you two fight? The boy asks her. -Honestly, I don't know, he left the meeting shouting, now he just looks at me like that. She sighs tiredly. At one of the parties, thanks to Charlie, he can talk to her a little. -You know, girls, sometimes we reach 200 kilometers per hour.He boasts, the trio of friends start drooling in French. -You could say that I am speed. He gives her his most seductive smile.

Max denied it and snorted.

-If I say something like that, I'll get a restraining order.- He takes a good sip of his drink.

-Also, with a sensitive mood like that, you can be sure that many would be afraid. She teased.

-So I don't have a chance? He used his playful tone.

-You're quite cheeky, you know. She lightly took his hand as a quick friendly caress, more for his level of need, that wasn't just a caress.

Max took her hand, lifting it and bringing it to his lips, finally leaving a caress there.

She was embarrassed, but she couldn't see any harm in anything Max did; for her, that was just an apology for the previous treatment.

But from that day on, it could be said that Max started to look at her more, in increasingly shameless ways.

Once again, with a podium in his hands, he waited for her, making sure to catch her eyes, just so she could see him measuring her completely, and she could see that it really affected her.

Or another time, when she was already embarrassed by him staring at her, while she watched the screen with the replay of some moments of the race, he caressed her face, giving her a wink.

She certainly doesn't know what to do with that.

Joe can't dream of that, while Max seems to love it.

But what she didn't expect was for someone to tell Joe about the flirting and say that she is increasingly cornered by the situation.

Unfortunately for Joe, in the middle of his season and fortunately for Max, in the middle of Joe's season.

One day after getting out of the car, Max was waiting for her, not giving her much space to walk away, the girl took off her helmet without knowing what that was, does he want to solve something? Are they going to slap each other or something like that? She wondered.

-How are you, Max? She looked at him.

-You were amazing, you know that? He spoke softly, raising his hands again to her hips and patting them a few times.

-Thanks, I have to go - she said, without giving Max any space. He wanted to know how she was when her only option was to be ridiculously close to him.

The group was confused, to say the least, they didn't know what the hell was going on and what the atmosphere was like.

As Max walked away with firm steps, when he saw that she was far away, he decided to try to get along with the Red Bull team.

-Sometimes I forget that she's not a guy - he laughed for no reason, but he's not like the other boys, who really do forget that she's the woman there. Max remembers who she is every second.

But Joe's situation is nothing that a phone call can't solve.

-Joe, I don't understand who told you that? He asked.

-Someone I trust- Joe justifies himself.

-Joe, I'm going to be honest, if I had the chance to sleep with her, you can be sure I would have done it already, as many times as I could and you can be sure that every time I lie down in my bed, I wonder why it hasn't happened yet and guess what, it's your fault- Max decides to be honest just to hear what Joe has to say.

-You're really brave to say something like that, you know? You know what, I'm going to kill you- Joe gets upset enough for Max to have some difficulty understanding what he's saying, the Dutchman gave his best laugh.

-You know, just a simple touch on her hip makes her all embarrassed, it makes me wonder how long it's been since she's been with a real man, but apparently I don't think that's ever happened, especially since she's only been with you- He continued his provocations.

-Joe, it's really cool that you're the cute guy who gives flowers after every race, gives gifts, writes letters, but if I were you I'd start to worry, because there are a lot of people watching her and I'm one of those people- Joe snorted from the other side.

-Because you can be sure that if I were her boyfriend, her legs wouldn't need a stupid touch to go weak, a simple look would be enough to make her remember a lot of things, things like that my friend, let's be honest, we're among friends here, you don't- Max stabbed the last time, hearing a sound of something breaking and he was sure it wasn't a glass but the phone.

Kayleigh almost didn't find out anything, they both avoided the subject just waiting for the other to tell.

But as the races went by, the atmosphere between Max and her seemed increasingly confused.

With the end of another race, Max lifted her up in a hug that at the moment, out of joy, she didn't stop to think about everything that was happening, but Joe did.

-The thing is, if it were me, it wouldn't be just fucking work- Joe shouted loud enough for her to have to pull the phone away from her ear.

-It was just a hug Joe, we've been together for I don't know three, four years, we work side by side, I understand your jealousy, don't think I don't understand, I do understand and in your place I would be like that too, I'll talk to him okay, I promise I'll talk to him and we'll work this out- She tries to calm him down having this idea.

-Kayleigh Hawkins I trust you, please don't make me lose that trust in you, I love you regardless of whether we can't spend a month together without breaking up, I don't know what I would do without you- He asks sighing heavily on the other side.

-I never did anything to make you doubt me, you know that Joe, if I didn't like you, I wouldn't be with you until today, swallowing all these breakups, just promise me that you'll calm down, okay? I love you - She says finally.

She went to sleep and tried to calm her mind, she needed to be calm and talk to Max the right way, she knows how he is, even if she's a little uncomfortable with all this extra contact they're having, there's no reason to do this to Joe, to let him suffer with a situation that's already driving him crazy, he's far away and the only thing she can do is trust that they're telling him the truth.

She got ready, took pictures with everyone who asked and went into the nightclub, this time looking for Max, the first thing she thought would be that he'd be at the bar, as he always does, but nothing.

She spotted George and it doesn't hurt to try.

She nudged him lightly so that he would lean in without leaving the circle of conversation.

-Have you seen Max? She asks him.

-Thank God I haven't seen Satan today. I heard he came to Earth in the body of this Max guy, but honestly I think Max is the one possessing the devil. George turns back to the group of friends. Okay, that's not the information she wanted to hear today.

She asked Lando the question, indiscreetly interrupting him and a girl she doesn't know, earning a free kick.

-Man, I haven't seen him - Pierre says, already out of habit in the male environment.

She sighs, imagining two hypotheses: either he's hiding out with some girls or he's gone back to the hotel.

She quickly makes sure to send a message to Joe, saying that he's definitely with some woman and that she's going to wait a little longer to look for him again. She rolls her eyes at having to do that, still feeling like she's going to be really embarrassed.

She picked up her drink and decided to walk around again until she saw him walking outside with his glass and sitting alone at a table.

She hurried, she needed to be quick, she didn't want anyone to arrive in the middle of the process.

When she walked through the door, it was clear that he found it strange that she went there, he gave her a small smile that was returned.

-Can I sit here? She politely asked for one of the empty seats.

He put his hands under the armrest of his chair with a big smile.

-You can sit wherever you want.

-Okay - she mumbled tensely.

-What do you need? He asked her, making her a little embarrassed.

If he was having a bad day, it could get even worse, so she decided to be as cautious as possible.

-Joe talked to me yesterday, he was a little upset about our hug, he got jealous of you and you know, I don't want that to get in the way of anything, not you, me or him, so if you could reduce the physical contact it would be a big help. She smiles nervously.

Joe said he's jealous? he asks with the same apathetic expression.

It was then that his laughter startled her.

-Yeah, I know, it's irrational. She quickly agrees, starting to lose her voice and blush with embarrassment, she didn't need to be making such a fool of herself, she thought.

Max froze when he heard that and with his best ironic tone, asked her to continue.

-We've known each other for years, we work together on the same team, it's crazy to say this, I'm really sorry for this boring conversation, but I promised him I'd talk to you, you know- she's already preparing for the next kick, he'd probably say it's a favor not to have to hug her and that would be the kindest thing she could imagine that could come out of his mouth.

-First of all, I'm an educated man, so I wouldn't be talking nonsense, smiling, complimenting, or any of that crap to someone I'm not interested in. We both know you're smart, you don't need to force it so much. She's in a mix of understanding and not understanding.

He looks at her and realizes he's only confused her even more.

-Tell your boyfriend, if he's jealous, he'll have to have the balls to come here to solve it - Max says, enjoying the situation.

-This will create an unnecessary situation, you know, you don't need all this for a misunderstanding- she explains again.

-Let me explain something to you, since you didn't have the tact to notice, from the damn moment I met you, well before I knew that this idiot was your boyfriend, I was already in love with you and something stopped me from talking to you, my girlfriend. Now I'm single and nothing stops me from talking to you. Are you going to say you never noticed? Her feet fell, as she tried to reason, she felt a cold hand go up her thigh. She froze there, not knowing what to do, looking at Max who had the most peaceful expression in the world.

She looked down, seeing the hem of her loose black dress rising higher and higher, exposing the area. She couldn't understand how Max, who distributes rudeness, now had a hand on her thigh. She delicately brought her hand to meet his, making eye contact with him again, but when she thought she would stop her hand, she only made him squeeze the spot and get even closer to where he shouldn't.

-Max I think you- She prepares to get up, but he is faster.

-Sit down, we're not done talking - he uses his most gentle tone, but even so it's hard to say anything.

-That idiot Joe has even threatened to kill me, you know, because he knows that I like you and I made one thing clear to him and now it's going to be clear to you, the only thing I need is for you to say yes, you know where my room is, it's always next to yours, it's not hard to find, when you get tired of this idiot you can knock on my door. - He walks away.

-That's not how it works, it's not about getting tired of my boyfriend -She is cut off.

-I don't know how and what you like about him, so yes, it's a matter of getting tired of him

Even with the shock, she stayed quiet and didn't say anything to anyone, she thought that would make things easier, but everything got worse with Max.

Now besides being a sweetheart, he's simply everywhere.

This includes grabbing her hand when she is focused on the training screens, indiscreetly measuring her and, what has caught the team's attention the most, the number of times he touches her hair.

On another day, finishing some notes about the current track, she doesn't know when he appeared, but he started massaging her shoulders, slowly moving up to her neck. The first thing she did was cough to discreetly send him away, which didn't help.

-You need to relax, Kay, you're too tense - he says quietly.

One of the guys on the team walked by them.

-I'm enjoying seeing you helping each other, Red Bull spirit - the guy leaves smiling.

-Max, that's enough, you're going too far -she says through clenched teeth.

-That's my specialty. He laughed, one of his arms serving as support so he could slide his hand down her spine as far as he could reach, slowly moving up, noticing her held breath.

-You need to relax, why don't you take a deep breath and let my hands help you?He suggested.

-I need you to stop with the double-meaning jokes - She asked.

He didn't answer, he just brought his fingers to the back of her neck, massaging the tips of them and moving down a little, he got as close as the backless bench would allow, pressing her head against his torso, and finally sliding his fingers from her jaw until they almost reached her lap.

-And what kind of massage is this? Can you explain it to me? She asked reluctantly.

-A casual massage, like any other, I think that massage is more about touching someone's skin until you see relaxation appear, and that angle of you is wonderful - He teased, aware that with the force used there it would be difficult for her to move.

-Max, I didn't know you could give a massage - Lando shouts from outside.

-That's great for those who wear a helmet.

-I'll have one - Lando says, and Charles agrees next to him.

-Me too.

-Sure, boys. I'll be right there when I'm done. He smiles at the two of them, who continue on their way.

-Why aren't you writing it down? Did you forget what you wanted? He gives his most fake tone of concern.

But by giving her the massage right there, he makes it difficult for her to say anything.

He then gently lowers his fingers and finishes, bending down a little so that he's at the height of her neck.

-Stop pretending you didn't like it. Considering that you're dating Joe and how much your skin is crawling, I think you should go to the bathroom and get yourself together - he pats her shoulder.

-It's great to see how satisfying these hands are, not just on the steering wheel. He laughs, walking away and giving her another wink. Kayleigh closed the notebook, wanting to bury her face in the ground. This can't be happening. Max can't be serious. But he is very serious and to make the test complete, he decided to tease her with a little more than words. The situation has already escalated to a point where she doesn't know if she can keep denying it and, worse, what to say to Joe when he calls at the end of the day and she has the same scared expression. Suddenly, the guy who was a jerk to everyone has become an angel with her and, on top of that, says he's in love with her, to the point of making a scene. The point is, she doesn't know how far he's going with the description, but Max knows well.

Tsunoda, who is next to the two, was a bit embarrassed by his face towards her and hers towards the floor. He doesn't know if coughing would help to start a conversation or if anything else, the atmosphere around them became unpleasant and even tense. 

She was grateful when she saw Carlo approaching, smiling as always, and greeted everyone, but before they could say anything. 

-We would make a beautiful couple, wouldn't we? He points at her, who freezes in disbelief. 

-Isn't she with Joe? Carlos asks. 

-I didn't ask about him, I'm talking about us. Tsunoda and Sainz stare at each other, not knowing what to say, along with her, who has wide eyes. 

-Of course, they would be great, she's very pretty and you - Carlos is cut off. 

-Really, she's beautiful. Max gives his best smile to Kay, who pretends not to have heard anything.

-I heard Lando calling me, bye guys. He left in a hurry without looking back. It didn't matter that they must have been there for an event or something, he would arrive at the last minute and that was it.

But her destination ended up being the same as his.

Max took advantage of the hotel corridor being empty, to reach her and hug her body from behind, holding her. Kay moved, trying to get out of the tight spot, and then Max decided to play it low, going up to her neck and nibbling it.

-Can't you see that it's crowded here, can't you see that this is going to hurt me? She asked him irritably, trying to stop him from continuing to caress her.

-You said that I always mistreated you, I'm just treating you the way I should, making my interests obvious to everyone. He replied.

And then only two breaths were heard in the hallway, Max continued the attack on her neck, sliding his hand until he reached the hem of the woman's pants where she quickly grabbed him.

-Are you going to run away again? You know that the more you run the better it is for me, because then I'll feel like I've won you over. He then released her, turning her to face him.

When he realized, he was against a wall in one of the many empty hallways, Max brought his hand to her face, squeezing her cheeks.

-Do you know how much it hurt me to spend four years of my life, seeing you with that clown, while you were always by my side? Do you know what it's like to see him deliver flowers, letters and then suddenly it all ends, you feel hope, then you come back and all this repeats itself over and over again, meanwhile, I'm the guy who's always here, do you know how horrible that is? He asked her somewhat irritated, not with her anymore, but with the situation.

-Not even when you were hospitalized after a crash, he showed up, like a good teammate I went there, do you understand now how much I need you to dump him and let me make you truly happy? he asked, letting his hand slip.

He steps away slightly, Kay runs her hands through her hair, messing it up, looking to one side nothing but an empty hallway, looking to the other the same and Max in front of her waiting for the answer.

-You guys break up all the damn time, break up with him, spend some time with me and then if you regret it, which I highly doubt, you go back to him. Max waits for her decision, staring at her.

-I can't... he quickly cuts her off.

-You can't throw away your childhood love, a beautiful childhood love that you see for three months and then only next year."

She swallows that.

-I may not be the nicest guy, nor as loved by everyone as he is, but I will be here and I know very well how much you want someone who is here. He gently takes her hand.

-You want someone who will hold your hand, praise you, watch you run, can do something stupid together, someone who understands you, someone who is not so fickle, someone who is here to wake up next to you, who will hug you at night, who can touch you and he can't do any of that but I can and I want to. The distance between the two became short again until the wall appeared.

Kayleigh took a deep breath and nodded slightly, she was afraid that she was under the effect of his power of persuasion and even more so of those eyes, but she couldn't deny it. She did miss Joe's presence, she loved him, not having him around was always the biggest obstacle.

And this obstacle would only have one solution, one of the two of them giving up their careers.

The fact is that once again they have been separated for a week, but as always she cries on the day and then pretends that nothing happened and they are together.

-We broke up last week - she begins, still thoughtful. -We can try, but I don't want anyone to know, because if nothing works out, I don't want it to become a mess, or for anyone to talk about it - she asks. -They'll start seeing me smile, it'll be kind of obvious - he approaches. -Are you sure?" He asks cautiously first. -Yes - he agrees. Max presses the elevator button, leaves a hand caressing her ear, preparing to finally kiss her for the first time. Max never hides his desire, much less his rush, but even so, he takes Kayleigh by surprise when he lets his hands roam guiltlessly over her body in that hallway.

He finally felt the weight, anger and hurt of all those years being thrown aside, being extracted from her body, he wouldn't say she wanted to wait so long, but being able to drive Joe crazy, just like he had been all this time was wonderful, now he finally has what he wants, her.

[tamas-love]

（ 제목 ） WAIT.

PRESENT.⠀⟡​⠀in which, sunghoon the captain of the school's lacrosse team is inlove with a girl who seems to like his teammate more.

（ 박성훈 ） — pairing = fem!reader x captain!sunghoon ୨୧ warning = angst ୨୧ wc = 1,301

a/n : sorry for not uploading in a bit! here's an angst.. help from @beat0-0 !! reblogs & likes are greatly appreciated as i'm trying to grow my account, so please reblog and like !! <33

click me! ↓

ㅤ𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄 sounds over the boos from the bleachers. Sunghoon turns his head toward the noise from where he stands in the midfield. His hair is slick with sweat, falling into his eyes under his helmet. His jersey is no better, it sticks to his back like a second skin.

ㅤAcross the field─near the away team's net─a player in a black jersey is on the floor, surrounded by his teammates. A player from Decellis' Lacrosse team stands over the injured player, staring at the referee who's moving his hands over the scene. Sunghoon recognizes the movements as a penalty. Sunghoon moves closer, spinning his lacrosse stick in his hands.

ㅤTruth be told, he's glad for the pause in the game. His breath is coming out in short pants from all the running and he knows bruises will litter his skin tomorrow from all the hits he's taken. But, then, he sees who's gotten the penalty and he's not so glad. The player's number is obscured by the ref, but Sunghoon recognizes the voice that argues with the ref. The player removes his helmet, allowing Sunghoon to see the anger that twists Lee Chan's face.

ㅤ"How was that a penalty?!" He's shouting, his face inches from the ref's. "I didn't even touch him!"

ㅤThe ref is calm compared to Lee Chan, his mouth moving with words Sunghoon can't hear from how far he still stands. Whatever he does say seems to only encourage Chan's anger. Sunghoon watches Chan's knuckles blanch against his lacrosse stick. Sunghoon walks closer to the scene, poised to intercept. He's a little scared of the way Chan is looking at the ref, as if he'll attack him. He doesn't have to intercept, though, their coach already is.

ㅤChan is pushed away to the sideline, where the team's substitutes sit. As he's pushing one of his best players away, their Coach calls for a timeout. Sunghoon follows his teammates off the field, his eyes searching for jersey 5. It doesn't take him long to zero in on his best friend.

ㅤ"What the hell was that?" Jake asks as he comes up beside Sunghoon. His Australian accent is still thick despite it having been two years since his transfer to Decellis Academy.

ㅤ"Chan got a penalty," Sunghoon tells him, "for unnecessary roughness, I think."

ㅤJake can only respond with a small, "Oh," before they reach the semi-circle around their coach. The tension is palpable as Coach scolds Chan.

ㅤChan's lips are pressed together, his jaw clenched. He doesn't say anything as Coach scolds him, his eyes cast to the side.

ㅤ"Scouts are here today, Chan," Coach is saying, frustration evident in his voice. "I told you not to fuck this up. This is the fucking playoffs, penalties don't look good!"

ㅤChan looks at Coach, his glare is cutting. "I didn't fucking touch him." His voice is low, the words are barely audible through the clench of his jaw.

ㅤSunghoon looks away at Coach's scoff. "It doesn't matter if you did or didn't," Coach replies, "you still got a penalty. So, sit down, you're gonna wait until your minutes are over." Coach sighs, turning to face the rest of the team. "We're close to winning this, boys. Let's finish strong."

ㅤSunghoon raises his stick with the rest of the team, knocking them together with a loud, "Yes, Coach!" He takes a moment as his team begins to go to their positions on the field. His eyes meet Jake's for a brief moment before his gaze shifts to the bleachers. His eyes snag on your figure. He hasn't seen you all game, though he has looked. And now you're here. He can't describe the joy of seeing you watch him play. You're as pretty as you always look.

ㅤBut─Sunghoon pause. There's a frown on your face, and─disappointment flares in Sunghoon's chest. You're wearing the white jersey of Decellis' Lacross Team, with its single blue and yellow strip across the chest. But it's not his number, not the 23 that's printed on the front of his jersey. The number is 13.

ㅤSunghoon's eyes stray to Chan, who sits with his head hung, to that same number that's printed on the front of his jersey. Sunghoon notices how your eyes are on Chan, worry tinging the sweeps of your brows, the press of your lips. He turns away, following the rest of his team onto the field, returning to his midfield position. He should have known. You'd been spending too much time around Chan recently. I should have known, Sunghoon thinks, a frown on his lips.

ㅤBut he can't think about you right now. Can't think about the fact that he was going to make a move after he won the playoffs and finally ask you out.

ㅤHe pushes his disappointment down as the ref blows his whistle and the last minutes of the third quarter approach. The match has a sense of urgency, with both teams playing to push through with the most points. It serves to help Sunghoon forget about his disappointment, postponing the eventual heartbreak he knows is coming.

ㅤHe's glad for the continuous exertion. The burning of his legs from the running, the bruises that are already forming. All he can think about is the hard rubber lacrosse ball and how he can get it past the opposing goalie and into the net.

ㅤHe scores two points during the first half of the last quarter. It brings up the score from 6-8 to 8-8. Sunghoon is panting hard, each goal a qualification for his teammates closest to swarming him. He loves the cheers from the bleachers, his eyes going to you every time. For a little while he can pretend that your cheers are for him. He can pretend that his feelings are returned. That your eyes don't stray to Chan with every goal made even as you cheer.

ㅤAnd pretending is enough. Pretending gets him through the end of the game. Pretending allows him to ignore the twist of his heart as he watches you as your eyes follow Chan back onto the field, switching with the underclassman who wears jersey 10. Pretending allows him to cheer for the point Chan makes. Pretending is enough.

ㅤAnd, selfishly, Sunghoon is glad he's the one who makes the last point just before the fourth quarter ends. His eyes go to you automatically. He wants to share this victory with you. Your cheers are for him this time─Sunghoon stumbles. He can see you just over the teammates. You're running onto the field. For a second, he thinks you're running to him, to congratulate him. He's your friend, after all. But then his eyes catch on Chan. You're . . . you're running to Chan.

ㅤThe disappointment from earlier returns in a wave, drowning him. He watches you smile at Chan, that bright smile Sunghoon's always loved. He watches Chan's face, the softness of his features a contrast to his earlier anger. He watches Chan lean down to you. He watches the two of you share a kiss. He can't look away, even as there's a strange feeling in his chest. A feeling that consumes him and twists his insides. It claws up his throat and burrows itself in his chest.

ㅤ"─hoon? Sunghoon?" He tears his gaze away from you, to Jake. There's concern lining the knit of his brows. "You alright, mate?"

ㅤSunghoon can't manage to force any words out. He opts for a nod. His victory is a bitter one. He never thought you'd have feelings for Chan.

ㅤWalking away from his celebrating team, he casts one last glance toward you and Chan. You look happy with him and Chan does too. Sunghoon looks away, embarrassed by the burning in his eyes. He realizes he waited too long to tell you as he walks to the locker room.

And you didn't wait for him.

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