#that tiny part in the professor's theme...

[apolloirl-221b]

Ace Attorney fans be like "im fine ^_^" and then listen to kazuma's leitmotivs over and over again

[postmakerkiwi]

🌅 Lush Idol Springs - Arboreal Hall 🗿

With leaves above you and walls to the sides, this long but squat passageway provides a strange sense of coziness as the sounds of trees, insects, and nearby breezes envelop you...

photo by CatbatQuartet

[moluvies]

in your orbit ꔛ armin arlert x reader

a/n: made the banner in 2 seconds on picsart myb 🫡👍 i usually dont fw the modern/college au for aot but nerdmin has so much potential :3 read part two here !!

words: 5.9k

cw: nerd!armin, college au, she/her pronouns and fem anatomy for reader, somewhat inexperienced armin #idk, armin is actually a nice person in this au, frat boy eren makes an appearance (obvi), armin gets drunk, reader gets drunk, SMUT!!, so drunk sex, mutual attraction, blowjobs, p in v sex, doggystyle, dirty talk, he whines and whimpers 😦‼️, MDNI !!

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The rec center was lively, as it usually was this time of day. You checked your phone to look at the time—3:56 P.M. Would it be weird to go in 4 minutes early? You wondered to yourself, anxiety getting the best of you. Especially when you couldn't hear even the smallest sound come from the small study room, though you told yourself maybe it was a soundproof design.

Armin Arlert, one of your classmates and now a member of the group project you had been assigned, was the one to set this meeting up. The group project from your astronomy class was a semester-long task, given to you during syllabus week and not to be turned in until finals. Half of the semester had passed and you hadn't even really met the rest of your group members—aside from Armin.

The two of you hadn't really talked, though. You followed each other on Instagram now and you sat at the same table as him in class (along with a few other people you didn't really know). Aside from that, the guy was practically a stranger to you. But you couldn't deny how you admired him. He always raised his hand in class, never sounding too full of himself or annoying like other people typically sounded to you in lecture. He was also helpful if you ever had a question, especially because you hated going to office hours with professors you hardly knew.

Armin had texted the group chat he made with all the group members a week ago asking if everyone had availability that Friday. A couple people said yes while others just put a thumbs up emoji to react to his message. He didn't mind if they didn't show to the first meeting, really. It was individually graded and if they didn't have availability to meet Friday they could have said so.

You took a deep breath, trying your best to compose yourself before you knocked once and then entered the tiny study room. It contained one table with 6 chairs around it, a TV you could connect your laptop to, and a trash can off in the corner.

And it also contained only one person—Armin.

"Hey," you greeted with a smile, shutting the door behind you and seating yourself down in a chair across from him.

"Hi, you made it," Armin smiled, looking up from his laptop as you entered. "I was just setting things up so we all have access to the slides, just in case anyone wants to make changes."

You nodded, putting your bag on the chair next to you and taking out your notebook and your own laptop. Armin turned his screen slightly so you could see the Google Slides presentation he'd already started.

“So,” he began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “the project is basically split into three parts. We each pick a topic from the syllabus—we're focusing on one planetary system or celestial phenomenon—and then tie it back to a central question or theme. I thought we could go with, like… how different environments in space might support life? It leaves a lot of room for interpretation.”

“That actually sounds really cool,” you said, surprised by how easily the conversation was flowing. Armin was easy to talk to—calm, thoughtful, never pushing too hard. “I was kind of thinking about Europa. Like, that moon of Jupiter? There’s been speculation that it could have an ocean under the ice.”

Armin’s eyes lit up. “That would be perfect for your section. I was thinking of doing something about Titan, Saturn’s moon. We could compare how the chemical compositions of each moon might influence the potential for life—or even just how scientists are studying them.”

The hour passed quicker than you expected. Armin’s presence, though quiet, was reassuring. The two of you bounced ideas back and forth, shared articles, and even got a little distracted googling strange facts about different moons. At one point, Armin laughed quietly at a meme someone had edited into one of Titan's photos, and you felt your shoulders finally relax.

“No one else showing up kinda worked out,” you said as you started packing up your things.

“Yeah,” Armin replied, unplugging his laptop from the monitor. “Honestly, I don’t mind. We got a lot done. I’ll just post our outline in the chat and if they don’t contribute by the next meeting, I’ll talk to the professor. He said we could document that stuff.”

You both walked out into the early evening sunlight, your backpacks slung over your shoulders as the automatic doors of the rec center whooshed open.

As you and Armin stepped outside, the soft warmth of the sun casting long shadows on the pavement, he glanced over at you with a relaxed expression.

“Got any plans this weekend?” he asked, shifting his backpack on his shoulder.

You sighed, a little amused. “My friend’s been begging me to go to this frat party Saturday night. I haven't been to one since my first week of freshman year."

Armin raised an eyebrow, a small grin tugging at his lips. “At Delta Sig?”

You blinked in surprise. “Yeah. Are you in that frat?”

He laughed—soft, a little disbelieving. “God, no. Not even close. But my friend Eren is. Our friend Mikasa and I usually end up at those parties to keep him from doing something insane.”

You tilted your head curiously. “So… you do go sometimes?”

“Sometimes,” Armin admitted, his tone casual. “Delta Sig almost got shut down, actually. They had, like, a ton of hazing violations documented over the past decade. I tried convincing Eren not to rush, but he did anyway. Even after I showed him an article about it online.”

You laughed. “Wow. That makes me feel so great about possibly going.”

He smiled, nudging your arm lightly with his elbow. “If you do end up there, try to find me, alright?”

“Yeah?” you asked, a little surprised by the offer.

“I’m not a big drinker or anything,” Armin said with a small shrug, “but I’ll probably be hanging around Eren and Mikasa, keeping them out of trouble. If you go, say hi.”

You nodded, a little smile growing on your face and a flutter in your heart at the idea. “Okay. I will.”

ꔛ

"I look like an idiot," you whined, eyeing yourself in the mirror as you looked over your outfit. As a freshman, you might've worn something like this to these types of parties, but now you weren't sure anyone should wear this kind of outfit. The top was so low cut and the jeans were just simply not it, you weren't sure if you were going for slutty or casual.

"Come on, you look great," your friend, Hitch, said. Her dirty blonde hair was neatly styled and she wore an outfit combination similar to yours—tiny top with jeans.

"We look like we're matching," you replied, but with no malice. That could be cute, you thought.

"Ugh, you're right. Be right back."

You glared at the back of her head as she turned to presumably go get changed. Your hair looked nice, and so did your makeup. The outfit felt dumb but it wasn't terrible. So why did you feel like throwing up?

"Armin really said to come find you?" Hitch asked when she returned with a grin and different outfit, bringing up the conversation you had in her car when she picked you up. Hitch seemed to be a frequent partygoer to this specific frat, and had met Armin a few times at these functions. When you brought it up in the car, she confirmed that Armin hardly ever drank and mostly stayed near Eren and Mikasa.

"Yeah. He's really sweet, so I didn't expect him to even go to these," you replied honestly, applying more lip gloss. "It wasn't a surprise when he said he doesn't drink, though."

"I'm sure you guys will really hit it off then. You even turned down my 'getting ready shots'."

You rolled your eyes, and soon you were on your way, taking the short walk towards Greek row where the party was presumably already in full swing—Hitch insisting on being late so you two didn't look lame waiting for people to show up.

ꔛ

Armin was a mess.

He didn't know why, or how, but in the hours leading up to the party he convinced himself he was awkward and weird for telling you to come see him. He even went to Jean and Eren and begged for advice.

He had so much trouble reading you, but he knew you were kind. And pretty. What he didn't really know was—well, everything else. Did you drink? What kind of clothes would you wear? Would you care that he didn't like dancing?

None of the questions made sense, but neithed did anything in his mind. Why was he this stressed over a party? He was practically the babysitter when attending, and it's not like he personally invited you. He just said you should come see him. God, was that even more weird?

Somehow, some way, Jean and Eren convinced Armin to take some shots. Three shots, actually. To "ease his mind" and to "calm his nerves" apparently.

Now, there Armin was in the back of Eren's car, finding the way the streetlights passed the window and the bass of the music electrifying. Everything was warm and fuzzy, and he felt his head spin the entire drive.

ꔛ

The music hit you before anything else—thick, throbbing bass that vibrated through the concrete steps leading up to the frat house. Red cups were already scattered across the yard, and the dim porch light revealed clusters of people smoking and laughing.

"This is going to be fun," Hitch said, linking her arm through yours. "Come on, let's find your astronomy boy."

You felt heat rise to your face at the nickname. "He's not my—"

"Yeah, yeah," Hitch interrupted with a knowing smile.

As you squeezed your way through the packed living room, the scent of cheap beer and cologne made your nose scrunch. Bodies were pressed together everywhere, dancing and swaying to music that was way too loud for any actual conversation. You were starting to regret coming when Hitch suddenly squealed and pointed toward the kitchen.

"There he is! Armin's over there with Eren and Jean."

You followed her gaze, and sure enough, there was Armin—but not the Armin you expected. His normally neat blond hair was slightly mussed, cheeks flushed pink, and he was... laughing? Not the reserved, thoughtful chuckle you'd heard in the study room, but a full, uninhibited laugh that made his whole face light up.

"Is he..." you trailed off, not quite believing what you were seeing.

Hitch's eyes widened with delight. "Oh my god, I think he's drunk! This is amazing. I've literally never seen Armin anything but sober."

You made your way over to the kitchen, Hitch practically dragging you. Armin was leaning against the counter, talking animatedly with two guys you assumed were Eren and Jean. He was gesturing with his hands, something about... constellations? It was hard to hear over the music.

When he spotted you, his eyes widened almost comically.

"You came!" Armin said with such genuine excitement that it made your heart do a strange flip. He pushed himself off the counter—a bit unsteadily—and made his way over. "I wasn't sure if you would. But you did!"

"I said I would," you replied with a smile, surprised by how endearing his enthusiasm was.

"Hey, Armin," Hitch said, giving him a little wave. "Looking good tonight! Where's Marlowe at?"

"Marlowe? Oh! He's out back, I think. By the beer pong tables." Armin seemed to remember his friends then, turning back to the two guys watching with amused expressions. "Oh! This is (Y/N)," he said your name with such care it made your cheeks warm again. "She's in my astronomy group. We're doing Europa and Titan and life possibilities and it's really cool. And she's friends with Hitch."

The shorter of the two guys—brown hair, intense eyes—reached out a hand. "I'm Eren. This is Jean." He nodded toward a guy with an undercut and a smirk.

"Nice to meet you," you said, shaking hands with both of them.

"You're in Armin's class? Good luck with that. He's been talking about space for the past hour," Jean said, but there was affection in his voice.

Hitch was already scanning the room. "I'm going to find Marlowe. You good here?" she asked you.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you assured her, secretly relieved to have an out from being around her boyfriend. Marlowe was nice enough, but he was so serious it made conversations feel like job interviews.

"Don't wait up," she winked, then disappeared into the crowd.

Armin was staring at you with an expression of pure fascination. "Your hair looks really nice," he said, the filter between his thoughts and words clearly compromised. "Like—like starlight. Did you know some stars have different colors? Red giants, blue dwarfs—"

"You're such a nerd," Eren cut him off, but ruffled Armin's hair affectionately. "Even drunk you're giving astronomy lectures."

"How much did you drink?" you asked Armin, unable to keep the amusement from your voice.

"Three shots!" Armin held up only two fingers, then frowned and corrected himself. "Only three. They said it would help with nerves. I don't usually drink." He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice but still speaking loudly enough for everyone to hear. "I feel weird. Like my brain is swimming."

Jean snorted. "Lightweight."

Eren reached into a nearby cooler and pulled out a beer, offering it to you. "Want one? Fair warning, I think we've corrupted your study buddy."

You hesitated. You weren't planning on drinking much tonight, but Armin was looking at you with such hopeful eyes.

"Please?" Armin said, swaying slightly. "I feel like an alien right now. Everyone's having fun and I'm just... vibrating on a different frequency."

The way he said it made you laugh. "Okay, fine. One beer. Maybe three, eventually."

Armin's face lit up again as you accepted the beer from Eren. You popped the tab and took a small sip, grimacing at the taste. Cheap beer was still cheap beer.

"Well, now that Armin's in good hands," Eren said with an exaggerated stretch, "Jean and I are gonna go find Mikasa. She texted that she just got here."

"Wait, you're leaving?" Armin asked, a flash of panic crossing his face.

"Relax, we'll be back," Jean said, already backing away. "Besides, you've got your project partner now."

Before Armin could protest further, they disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone with a slightly swaying Armin Arlert.

"They always do that," Armin said, leaning back against the counter for stability. "Leave me places."

"Looks like I'm on babysitting duty," you teased, taking another small sip of your beer.

"No, no," Armin protested, reaching out and nearly missing as he tried to touch your arm. "You should have fun too. Not just—just watch me being weird."

"Who says watching you being weird isn't fun?" you replied, finding yourself genuinely enjoying this uninhibited version of him.

Armin stared at you for a moment, then broke into a wide smile. "You're really nice, you know that? And smart. Your Europa idea was so good. I went home and read, like, three papers about it."

"After our meeting? I thought you said you were going to meet Eren and Mikasa."

"I did! But after. I couldn't stop thinking about the project. And..." he trailed off, that flush on his cheeks deepening.

"And what?" you prompted, suddenly curious.

Armin took a sip from his cup—soda, you noticed—and looked around at the party as if gathering courage. "And I was kind of hoping you'd come tonight. I don't know why. I just... wanted to see you outside of class."

Your heart did that strange flip again. "Well, here I am," you said softly, not sure what else to say.

"Here you are," Armin echoed, his eyes meeting yours with surprising clarity despite his intoxication. "Want to go somewhere quieter? I can't hear myself think in here, and I have so many thoughts right now."

You laughed, finding his honesty refreshing. "Lead the way."

Armin grinned and pushed himself off the counter, taking your hand with a boldness you suspected was alcohol-induced, pulling you through the crowded living room toward the staircase.

As you followed him, fingers intertwined with his, you found yourself thinking that this was definitely not how you expected your Friday night to go—but somehow, it was exactly what you needed.

Armin led you up the stairs, his hand still holding yours as you weaved through small clusters of people gathered on the steps. You were glad for his guidance—the house was a maze of narrow hallways, dimly lit and pulsing with the bass from downstairs. Finally, he stopped in front of a door and turned the handle, peeking in before ushering you inside.

"Jean's room," he explained, closing the door behind you both. The music instantly became muffled, a distant thumping rather than the overwhelming roar from downstairs.

The room was surprisingly clean for a frat house bedroom—minimal clutter, a neatly made bed, and even a small bookshelf in the corner. You glanced around, suddenly feeling like you were intruding.

"Should we be in here? I feel bad taking his room," you said, hovering awkwardly near the door.

Armin shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "He won't even need it until like 4 AM. Trust me. He's either going to be downstairs until everyone leaves or..." He trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Got it," you laughed, understanding the implication. You took another sip of your beer, feeling the pleasant warmth spreading through your limbs as you made your way to sit on the edge of the bed.

Armin joined you, leaving a respectful few inches between you. "Better, right? I can actually hear you now."

"Much better," you agreed, finding it easier to relax now that you weren't surrounded by sweaty strangers. "So... you really went home and read scientific papers after our meeting?"

His face lit up immediately. "Yeah! There was this one about the chemical composition of Europa's ocean and how it might compare to Earth's deep-sea hydrothermal vents. Did you know there are organisms on Earth that don't need sunlight at all? They just use chemical energy from the vents."

You watched him as he spoke, his hands gesturing enthusiastically, eyes bright with genuine passion. The alcohol had lowered his usual reserve, but it was still Armin—brilliant, thoughtful Armin—just with his thoughts flowing more freely. You found yourself drawn to this version of him, the slight flush on his cheeks and the way his hair fell across his forehead when he leaned forward.

"That's actually fascinating," you said, taking another long sip of your beer. You were starting to feel it now, that pleasant buzz that made everything seem warmer, more immediate. "So you think there could be something like that on Europa?"

"It's possible! That's what makes it so exciting," he said, shifting to face you more directly. "We're just beginning to understand how diverse life can be. The universe is so much stranger than we imagine."

You nodded, feeling a pleasant heaviness in your limbs as you leaned back on your elbows. "I need to catch up to your level of intoxication if we're going to have deep space conversations all night."

Armin laughed, the sound soft and genuine. "Trust me, you don't. I feel like my brain is both racing and moving through molasses at the same time."

"That actually sounds kind of nice right now," you admitted, finishing the last of your beer. The room had taken on a gentle, swaying quality, and you found yourself increasingly aware of how close Armin was sitting.

"Here," he said, reaching over to take your empty can and placing it on Jean's desk. As he moved, his shoulder brushed against yours, and you felt a small jolt at the contact.

When he settled back beside you, he seemed to hesitate for a moment before lying back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You joined him, both of you lying side by side, shoulders almost touching.

"There are glow-in-the-dark stars up there," Armin pointed out quietly. Sure enough, faint green stars were stuck to the ceiling in no particular pattern. "Jean would die if he knew I told anyone. He says they were there when he moved in."

You laughed softly, still tipsy but feeling more sober now.

The dim glow from the ceiling stars cast a soft, ethereal light over Armin’s face as you lay beside him. The alcohol had settled warmly in your veins, making every sensation just a little more intense—the softness of the bed beneath you, the muffled bass of the music downstairs, the way Armin’s breathing had slowed into something deep and steady beside you.

You turned your head slightly to look at him, studying the delicate slope of his button nose, the way his eyelashes fluttered when he blinked behind his glasses. His cheeks were still flushed pink from the drinks, and his lips—soft, slightly parted—were just inches from yours. His hair, usually so neat, was tousled from the night’s chaos, falling in golden strands across his forehead. You had the sudden, overwhelming urge to run your fingers through it, to see if it was as silky as it looked.

Armin must have noticed you staring, because his eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, the air between you stilled. His gaze was warm, hazy with alcohol but still so Armin, so full of quiet intensity.

Then, without a word, he shifted onto his elbow, leaning over you. His free hand came up, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear with a tenderness that made your pulse jump.

You barely had time to process it before he was kissing you.

His lips were warm, slightly chapped, and tasted faintly of cheap beer and something sweet—maybe the soda he’d been drinking earlier. The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, as if he was still unsure if this was okay. But when you sighed against his mouth, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer, he deepened it with a quiet urgency that sent heat spiraling through your stomach.

His hand slid from your hair to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. You could feel the warmth of his body pressing into yours, the way his breath hitched when you nipped lightly at his lower lip.

“Is this okay?” he murmured against your mouth, voice rough.

You answered by tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him back down to you. He groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your lips, and suddenly his weight was pressing you into the mattress, his hips slotting between your thighs in a way that made your breath catch.

The kiss turned hotter, messier—his tongue sliding against yours, his hands roaming your sides, tracing the curve of your waist before settling on your hips. You could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes, the way his fingers flexed against you like he was holding back from touching you everywhere.

Armin’s breath was hot against your lips as he kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, filthy drag that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands were everywhere—tangling in your hair, skimming down your sides, gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. You could feel the heat of him pressed against you, the way his body trembled slightly with restraint, like he was holding himself back from just taking what he wanted.

You arched up into him, grinding your hips against his, and he let out a broken groan against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he panted, pulling back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide with want. His lips were swollen, his cheeks flushed, and his voice was rough when he spoke again. “I—I wanna fuck you. So bad.”

The words sent a jolt of heat straight between your legs. You could feel how hard he was already, the thick line of his cock pressing insistently against your thigh through his jeans.

“Yeah?” you breathed, your own voice shaky.

Armin nodded, biting his lower lip as his hands slid under the hem of your top, fingers brushing against the bare skin of your stomach. “Yeah. God, you feel—you feel so good. Can I—?”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you unzipped your jeans and grabbed his wrist to guide his hand lower, past the waistband of your jeans, letting him feel the damp heat of your panties. His breath hitched, fingers twitching against you.

“Fuck,” he whispered again, voice wrecked. “You’re—you’re already—”

You cut him off with another kiss, sucking his tongue into your mouth as your own hands wandered lower, palming the hard bulge in his jeans. He jerked against your touch, hips bucking forward with a desperate little noise.

“You too,” you murmured against his lips, squeezing him through the fabric.

Armin shuddered, his forehead dropping against yours as he let out a shaky exhale. “Shit—shit—keep doing that—”

You did, rubbing him slowly, feeling him throb under your fingers. His breath came in ragged gasps, his hips rocking into your hand, chasing the friction.

“You’re so hard,” you whispered, biting at his jaw.

Armin whined, his fingers digging into your hips. “Because of you—fuck, I—I wanna fuck you—”

His hand slid back down, slipping beneath your panties this time, fingers brushing through your slick folds. You gasped, arching into his touch, and he groaned against your neck.

Armin’s breath hitched when you suddenly switched positions and pushed him back onto the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you straddled his thighs. His cock strained against his jeans, the fabric damp with pre-cum, and his fingers twitched at his sides like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you or not.

“You—you don’t have to—” he started, voice already wrecked.

You silenced him with a smirk, taking his glasses off which were slightly fogged up and folding them to put on the nearby nightstand, then popping the button of his jeans and dragging the zipper down agonizingly slow. His hips jerked up, chasing your touch, and you could see the way his cock twitched under his boxers, desperate for relief.

“I want to,” you murmured, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down just enough to free him.

Armin gasped as the cool air hit his flushed skin, his cock springing free—hard, leaking, and so fucking pretty. You licked your lips, watching the way his stomach clenched as you wrapped your fingers around him, giving him a slow stroke.

“Fuck,” he whined, his head falling back against the pillow.

You didn’t tease him any longer. Leaning down, you dragged your tongue over the head of his cock, tasting the salty-sweet pre-cum beading at the tip. Armin’s hips jerked, a broken noise tearing from his throat as you took him into your mouth.

It was messy—you were both still a little drunk, your movements sloppy and uncoordinated—but that just made it hotter. You sucked him deep, your tongue swirling around his shaft as you bobbed your head, spit dripping down your chin.

Armin was losing it. His fingers tangled in your hair, not pushing, just holding on for dear life as he whimpered above you. “Oh—oh God—your mouth—fuck—”

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, and his thighs trembled under you. His cock pulsed against your tongue, and you could tell he was already close—his breath was coming in ragged gasps, his hips twitching like he was trying not to thrust up into your throat.

“I—I’m gonna—” he choked out, his voice high and desperate.

You didn’t let up. Instead, you took him deeper, your nose brushing the coarse blond curls at the base of his cock, and that was all it took.

Armin came with a broken cry, his back arching off the bed as he spilled hot and thick down your throat. You swallowed around him, milking him through it until he was squirming from oversensitivity, his hands weakly tugging at your hair.

“Too much—too much—” he whined, his whole body trembling.

You pulled off with a wet pop, licking your lips as you looked up at him. His face was flushed, his lips parted as he panted, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Armin’s chest heaved as he blinked up at you, dazed and wrecked, his cock still twitching against his stomach. His cheeks burned even redder as he stammered,

“S-Sorry—I didn’t mean to—fuck, I just—”

You cut him off with a kiss, licking into his mouth so he could taste himself on your tongue. He moaned, his hands gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d pull away.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmured against his lips, grinding down against his thigh, letting him feel how soaked you still were. “Just fuck me.”

Armin’s breath hitched, his cock already stiffening again at the words. His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing greedily as he nodded, his voice rough.

“Yeah—yeah, okay—turn around—”

Armin's hands trembled as he helped you turn around, his breath coming in ragged gasps against the back of your neck. You could feel the heat radiating off his body as he knelt behind you, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans.

"Fuck," he groaned, dragging the denim down your thighs inch by inch, his voice thick with want. "Look at you—fuck—your ass is so perfect—"

The cool air hit your bare skin as he peeled your jeans off completely, leaving you in just your soaked panties. His fingers traced the curve of your ass, squeezing lightly before sliding between your thighs, rubbing over the damp fabric.

"So wet," he murmured, his voice wrecked. He hooked his fingers into your panties next, pulling them down slowly, his breath hitching as your pussy was finally exposed to him. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard."

His thumbs spread you open, and you could feel his hot gaze raking over every inch of you—your swollen lips, the way you dripped for him, the way your ass arched back, begging for him.

"Hang on, okay?" He said quietly, and you felt the bed shift with his weight. Then you heard the unmistakeable sound of a wrapper being opened. "Don't ask why I know where Jean keeps his condoms. He... likes to brag," Armin said sheepishly, making you giggle as you heard him whimper slightly as he presumably rolled the condom on.

Armin’s fingers dug into your hips as he lined himself up, the blunt head of his cock nudging against your soaked entrance. He hesitated just for a second, his voice shaky with drunken lust and nerves.

“Fuck—I—I might not last, I’m sorry—”

But you barely heard him, because then he was pushing in, slow, that perfect curve of his cock hitting every sweet spot on the way. Your breath stuttered as he filled you, thick and throbbing, and a greedy moan tore from your throat before you could stop it.

“Oh fuck—” Your hands fisted the sheets, your back arching deeper, chest pressing into the mattress. “Yes—just like that, Armin.”

Armin groaned behind you, his hips stuttering as he bottomed out, his grip on you tightening like he was afraid you’d disappear. “You feel—fuck—you feel so good."

You clenched around him, and he whimpered, his cock twitching inside you like he was already fighting not to spill. But you didn’t care—not when he fit this perfectly, not when every ragged breath he took sent sparks through your veins.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles white, as you rolled your hips back to meet his shallow thrusts. The new angle let you feel him even deeper, and you gasped, your back bowing as a shiver ran down your spine.

Armin choked out a whimper, his hands scrambling for purchase on your hips as he bottomed out, his thighs trembling against yours. “Y-You feel—fuck—so tight—”

You grinned into the mattress, rolling your hips to take him deeper, and he let out a broken noise, his nails biting into your skin. He was already unraveling, his cock pulsing inside you, and you loved it—the way he couldn’t hold back, the way he was falling apart just for you.

Armin’s hips snapped forward with a desperate, sloppy thrust, his cock sinking deep into your dripping cunt as a broken moan tore from his throat. His hands gripped your ass, spreading you wider as he watched, his dick glistening with your slick as it disappeared inside you again and again.

“Fuck—look at you—” he panted, his voice wrecked, pupils blown black with lust. “Taking me so good—your pussy’s sucking me in.”

You whimpered, your fingers clawing at the sheets as his cock dragged against your walls, the curve of him hitting that sweet spot with every rough snap of his hips. Your vision blurred, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach as he fucked into you with unsteady, frantic strokes—like he was already on the edge, but needed to make you feel it too.

“You’re—ngh—you’re so tight—” Armin groaned, his hips stuttering as he tried to hold back. His cock twitched inside you, swollen and throbbing, his balls drawing up tight. “Gonna—gonna cum—shit—but I wanna make you feel it first—”

His hand slid around your hip, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing rough, frantic circles as he fucked you harder. You gasped, your back arching, your cunt clenching around him as pleasure sparked white-hot under your skin.

“There—right there—” you babbled, your voice shaking. “Armin—fuck—don’t stop—”

He whined, his thrusts turning erratic, his cock pulsing inside you as he teetered on the edge. “You—you like that? Like how I fuck you?” he slurred, his words dripping with filthy praise. “God, your pussy’s gripping me—squeezing my cock—fuck, I can’t—can’t—”

His hips jerked, his rhythm faltering as his orgasm ripped through him. He buried himself to the hilt with a choked-off moan, his cum flooding the inside of the condom.

You felt it—every twitch, every throb of his cock as he emptied himself inside you, his fingers still working your clit desperately, like he couldn’t stop even as he came.

“Fuck—fuck—” he gasped, his voice wrecked, his forehead dropping between your shoulder blades as he shuddered through the aftershocks.

You weren’t far behind. The filthy sound of him filling you, the way his cock kept twitching inside you as he panted against your back—it pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you, your cunt clenching around him as you cried out, your thighs shaking, your nails digging into the mattress.

Armin groaned, his hips grinding weakly against your ass as he milked his own pleasure.

“Shit—” he mumbled, dazed, his voice slurred with booze and bliss. “You—you just came on my dick..." He pulled out, discarding the condom into a nearby trashcan.

You laughed breathlessly, your body still thrumming with pleasure as you collapsed onto the mattress beneath you. Armin followed, his chest pressing against your back as he nuzzled into your neck.

“You’re… really good at that,” you murmured, your voice hazy.

Armin huffed a drunken laugh against your skin, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip. “Yeah?”

“Yeah," you sighed, grinning as you felt his dick twitch against the skin of your ass.

He kissed your shoulder, his lips soft and sweet despite the filth that had just spilled from them. “...Wanna go again?”

You turned your head just enough to catch his gaze—his flushed cheeks, his messy hair, his stupidly pretty eyes—and grinned.

“Obviously.”

[transboyswitchytales]

A Proposition

part 1

2,3,4

Wanda Maximoff Professor x Student Reader

After a night together, reader is suprised to go to class the next day to see a certain one night stand or rather her professor? Will she be just a one-night stand?

My Masterlist

Holy shit.

Darcey looks at you tilting her head and you shake your head for her to not draw any attention to you. But Wanda turns and looks directly at you, her breath catching for a moment before her TA hands her some paperwork. She is momentarily shaken from the trance.

Everyone takes their seats and she begins.

“Welcome everyone. My name is Professor Maximoff and I will be teaching you Survey of Litterature this semester. We will be reading large texts and dissecting them. I encourage this class to be argumentative with what you read. I want you to make a paper that not every student before you has written. I’m not an easy A class, you will have a lot of homework. If this scares you, good.” She took a moment to look around the room. “It should.”

There was a large silence that fell around the class.

“I’m here for you to stretch the knowledge of what you already know. Hopefully, after this semester you will be able to construct an argument. ”

You heard a few chairs scrape on the floor as some people left.

“My class is specifically for those who are getting English degrees. So the majority of you are seniors. Which means I expect more. Any questions?” Wanda smiled dangerously.

The rest of class we learned the large reading list that she was recommending. It was a little terrifying amount of homework. But you loved studying classic literature so a few of the books you’d already read. You were surprised by a few of her book choices, Doctor Zhivago wasn’t a story you saw often saw in required reading.

Just then you remembered the feeling of Wanda sucking your clit hard enough to make you squirt. And in that moment your face turned red and she looked at you again. You broke the eye contact and scribbled on your note pad gibberish so she wouldn’t look at you.

Wanda turned towards the board then and started writing out the main themes of Homer's ‘The Odyssey’. She chose three people from the class to come over and argue about Odysseus's line of character. After a healthy debate about ancient Greek gods. She seemed bored moving the chalk between her fingers in a disinterested state. Her eyes fell on you then.

“Y/N.”

You cursed and Darcey turned in a state of shock. No one seemed to care why she knew your first fucking name. You cursed the fact that you’d given her your name and heard her cum chanting it over and over again.

“Yes Professor,” You gulped and hoped your voice didn’t tremble.

“What do you think of Odysseus’s character.”

“Well, he did cheat on Penelope.”

“Can you put the parameter of everyday adultery to this story?”

“I think so. He’s a great lead character but that doesn’t make him perfect.”

“I suppose it says something about your love life, but can we really judge this character on that.”

There was a chuckle in the classroom but you didn’t take the bait. The class settled and Wanda had a small smirk on her lips. You kept your cool though.

“The question was simple, what do I think of his character, you can be heroic and still be flawed. Even if he comes back to Penelope in the end he wasn’t honest.” You had given a tiny dig at honesty. Seeing as how Wanda didn’t exactly lead with what she did for a living after you two had met. She seemed to catch this detail with a little glimmer.

The TA walked over to Wanda and whispered something.

“Looks like that’s our time today. Y/LN, if you could stay after class.”It wasn’t a question. And Darcey looked for a moment like she was going to say something but she held back and gave you a knowing look as you made your way over to Wanda’s desk. The TA handed her a paper and then left along with the rest of the class.

“Walk with me.” Wanda said as she put her coat on and slipped her laptop bag over her shoulder.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I can just drop the class” You tried but she didn’t budge. Walking around the desk and closer to you.

“Don’t be silly. You won’t be able to find another spot in time. You’ll need the credits of this class to graduate. Besides, I’ve heard from other professors you are quite remarkable.” She moved off of her desk to start for the doors.

“Professor,” She giggled and turned to you.

“So it’s professor now?”

“You didn’t tell me what you did.”

“You never asked darling.” She smiled guiltily.

“Please don’t call me that?” Your ears turned red.

“Why, if I remember right it does amazing things to you. You liked pet names the other night.”

“Professor…Maximoff, this isn’t a good idea.” Shaking your head you walked closer to her.

“You haven’t even heard what I’m offering yet?”

Part 1

[myokk]

note-taking

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3,6k

summary: mc loves flustering sebastian with her notes during class😇

cw: NONE this is just fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, it takes a while for them to admit their feelings, I rated it M for some language/sexual themes

a/n: I laughed a lot as I wrote this on the train, I hope you enjoy reading about these two idiots (endearing) as much as I did writing them

A beetle slowly makes its way across Sebastian Sallow's desk.

The classroom is silent - save for the scratching of quills furiously calculating the Arithmatic probability of who will be the next Minister and the quiet murmur of his professor as she helps Hobhouse (how did he even get into the N.E.W.T. level?) - and Sebastian is going absolutely mad.

He counts how many seconds it takes for the beetle to reach his abandoned quill (fifteen). But, when it takes its seventh step after making it over the quill (an auspicious sign), Sebastian slams his hand down on top of it.

The loud noise echoes through the silent classroom and Sebastian hears her snickering coming from behind him as the whole class turns to see what has happened. His ears turn red, he wishes he could jinx her somehow, and yet he is terribly curious to see what she has sent him this time. Sebastian hopes that everyone has gone back to their equations and stops staring at him, because now that it's in his hands, his fingers are itching to open it. His hands eagerly - shamefully eager, if you ask him - unravel the note he's crumpled up in his hands - almost a shame that he destroyed the beetle, it was one of her better creations - and Sebastian soon curses his haste.

His ears would be an even deeper shade of red were his blood not currently draining to a different part of his body. Sebastian shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he continues reading the note, his eyes flying across the tiny note once, twice, three times before he crumples it up and adds it to the graveyard of the other notes she has been sending him all day. The words fuck my soaking cunt flash up at him and he adjusts his schoolbag so that if anyone were to walk past and look into it, they wouldn't suspect a thing.

You see, this has been going on all week. Sebastian knew that when his seventh year started, it was going to be the culmination of their academic rivalry, but he never expected this. That witch has made taunting him her personal vendetta, and it's working.

Sebastian can't get her out of his mind.

It started in Herbology on Monday, at exactly 7.37 in the morning. Sebastian had been sitting next to Ominis, both complaining under their breaths at how early Professor Garlick had made them wake up (something about the plants blooming - Sebastian can't remember now). He had seen a little snake slither past Ominis's hands, making its way directly to him, and he does remember that he thought it was quite strange that Ominis didn't seem to react to the snake's presence. And then - he took a closer look at it - he saw that it was made of paper. Curious, Sebastian had thought as he grabbed and unfolded it. Reading it started an unfortunate chain of events.

It started out innocently enough, he supposes. Well, if you can call the most indecent thing he's ever read innocent, then it started out innocently.

Sallow - let me just say how absolutely delicious you look in your jacket this morning. I find I want to rip it off of your broad shoulders. Did you hit a growth spurt this summer?

He had flushed, briefly glanced over his shoulder - maybe he could see a face as flushed as his was, watching his reaction, but nothing - before looking back to the note, squinting at the familiar (familiar?) handwriting when Ominis had interrupted him.

"Sebastian? I think we need to start trimming the budding flowers now..."

His voice had blended in with the buzzing in Sebastian's ears as he stared intently down at the note in his hands. He had soon figured out who sent it - how could he not recognize her handwriting? - and the rest of Herbology class had been an absolute disaster. He had spent the whole rest of his time haphazardly massacring his plants and ignoring Ominis's pleas for help as he ruminated on her and what did she mean by her note? Her maddening laughter floated over the sound of tiny, precise snips as Sebastian's classmates did as they were supposed to, boring into his mind as he tried his hardest to figure out what she was up to.

Her plan's working, whatever it is. Sebastian has been frustrated to no end. She's nobody to him, just Anne's annoying best friend. Well, that's not entirely true, and Sebastian doesn't like to lie to himself. She was his closest friend last year, and the year before...ever since she arrived at Hogwarts, really. They did everything together, but something had changed when she visited that summer.

She had spent less time laughing with him, instead choosing to whisper with Anne about Merlin knows what, sometimes looking at him with an expression he couldn't place that had started to drive him crazy.

Sebastian had decided that a certain someone made no sense, that he would ignore the strange way his stomach would flip in her presence, and that he would focus all of his energy into besting her at everything. Maybe if she was embarrassed about being inferior to him, she would stop all of this. Although he would never admit it, he had started having nightmares about her gasping beneath him and needing him, that strange look from the summer flashing in dream-her's eyes, blissful fantasies that have him waking up hard and needing to cast a silencing charm around his bed before he can start his days.

Needless to say, these dreams have become infinitely worse this week.

What started out as a joke has quickly spiraled into an obsession. She soon finds herself watching Sebastian with breathless anticipation every time she sends a note over to him, relishing in the deep flush of his cheeks as he sneaks glances over his shoulder at her.

She doesn't really know what possessed her to start in the first place. A stroke of daring, she supposes as she finishes her latest note with a flourish and charms it to fold itself into a tiny swallow. And, she muses, watching the bird fly towards its victim, it's rather fun to fluster him so.

It's what he deserves, after all, after she has spent a whole year pining after him. A whole bloody year of sighing as he leaned over her shoulder in the library to point at something in her textbook, of his chin resting on top of her head, of warm breath tickling her ears, of watching him defeat every opponent in Crossed Wands, of watching him laugh despite himself at her little quips in Transfiguration. Of making sure -

She stifles a smile as she watches Sebastian eagerly grab the swallow as it flitters towards him. At first, he had tried acting nonchalant, like a cat biding its time before it pounces. Ignoring the notes she's been sending until he can't stand it and then: squashing them, smashing them, trapping them in his large hands, long fingers eager to unfold the note and see what she has to say.

Now, he has abandoned any pretense of aloofness he might have had before.

She can see it in the rigid set of his shoulders. The tension releases somewhat every time he opens a note, but quickly returns as he crumples them up and adds them to his collection. She hopes he's getting as wound up as she is, hopes that he's beginning to know an ounce of the suffering he has been putting her through.

A small voice in the back of her head tells her that she's being unfair, that maybe he's just oblivious - but then, why would he have looked at her like that all summer? And - almost the most maddening thing of all - ever since their seventh year started, he has made it a point to try and best her in every class. She couldn't move on from her silly little crush even if she wanted to, when his deep voice cuts through hers every single class to answer first, when he's always right ahead of her in Potions to get the best ingredients, when he's the one standing across from her in the mock duels in Hecat's class and as he raises his wand and her breath catches in her throat and -... Well, it's only fair, then, that she tries to distract him during class.

She's wondering what the next note should say, is lightly rubbing the edges of the quill's feather against her lips - did she go too far with the latest note? - when the scraping of a chair next to her pulls her out of her thoughts. She jumps at the jarring noise, the quill clatters on the table as it falls, and she feels her own face flush when she sees Sebastian sprawling himself out in the seat right next to hers.

There's a look on his face that she's never seen before and she feels as if all of the air has left her body when he leans in close to her - she could start counting his freckles if her brain hadn't gone completely empty - warm breath tickling her ear as he breathes, "What do you think you're doing?"

She hasn't thought this far ahead.

Why hadn't it occurred to her that Sebastian might confront her about the notes?

"I..." she falters, trying to get her thoughts working again, so that she can find something to say to get her out of this situation. Because she didn't actually want him to notice her, did she? And, what could she possibly say in defense of the filthy things she's been sending him all week? She can't seem to break eye contact with him: she swallows nervously: she tries again: "I -"

Her words fail her once again, when Sebastian's warm hand comes to rest on top of her thigh. Her thick wool skirt might be acting as a barrier between them, but it somehow feels like he's touching her bare skin and her whole body heats up uncontrollably. Even like this, his touch is better - more electric - than what she's been imagining this whole time.

He turns away and pulls parchment out with the hand that isn't actively caressing her thigh, and reaches across her for the quill that has fallen from her fingers. She hears scratching as he starts working on his equations - she vaguely thinks that she should be working on them too, isn't she supposed to be trying to do better than him? But -... her breathing is shallow - all of her nerve endings have seemingly migrated to the spot on her inner thigh that Sebastian's thumb is now massaging in tiny circles - maybe her brain has just packed its bags and left on holiday to Bath for all the use it's giving her now.

He doesn't even spare her a glance during the rest of the class, continues to diligently work on his equations for the first time all week, but his large hand remains on her thigh, completely obliterating any thought from her mind that doesn't have something to do with the warmth that keeps pooling deep in her stomach at his touch.

When the class is blissfully (unfortunately) over, Sebastian finally pulls his hand away and she squeaks in protest against her wishes - her thigh is now cold - that must be it (just discomfort, that's all) - she doesn't feel the relief she thought she would at his absence. He smirks down at the parchment he's rolling up, packs everything into his school bag, and leaves her behind without his eyes darting to hers even once.

Seven notes.

She has sent Sebastian seven bloody notes over the course of the last three days, and as he looks over at the crumpled up papers sitting on the desk in his dorm room, notes he tried his best to smooth out, he feels his heart race increase. He doesn't understand why she's doing this, but he does understand how it's making him feel. He could barely even think during Arithmancy, knowing how much his presence was affecting her, feeling her warm thigh under his hand. And when she protested when he removed his hand, well. He had to get out of there as fast as possible.

Maybe it's a good thing she didn't have the presence of mind to look at his arithmatic equations during class, because they are, unfortunately, incomprehensible. He had to keep up the charade by pretending to scribble for the rest of class, but now he almost regrets it - almost - because his pride won't allow him to ask Amit for his notes.

Sebastian has spent the evening poring over his textbook, trying to make sense of something that should be coming easily to him - Anne doesn't tease him about his strange obsession with numbers for no reason - and yet, his eyes keep wandering over to her notes. (Why did he even take them out of his bag in the first place?) (Why hasn't he burned those blasted things yet?) He has decided to forego studying in the library, the common room, and the Undercroft (places where he might see the object of his inner turmoil), and yet he is still getting nothing done even in the peaceful silence of his dormitory. Because her letters are shouting at him.

Well, not really, as they aren't Howlers. They might as well be, though, with how much he has reread them since he took them out of his bag. A smile spreads across his face despite himself as he puts his plaid jacket - the one he wore on Monday - on his chair to wear tomorrow. That stupid smile doesn't leave his face as he brushes his teeth next to Ominis before bed (thanking Merlin that Ominis is blind and can't pester him about what he cannot see), nor does it leave as he tries to fall asleep that night.

Suffice it to say, Sebastian does not get much sleep that night.

"...caught her snogging Prewett in the boathouse."

"Oh Merlin." A giggle. "I wonder if he's any good. Don't look at me like that, I know you've wondered the same thing..."

She blushes as she tucks her head down, trying to concentrate on the reading before her but it's difficult. First, because Sacharissa is being entirely too loud as she gossips with Grace - they might be some of the first at breakfast, but that doesn't mean they're alone - and second, because she is reading the book she filched from Sacharissa's bag. It's been charmed to look like a History of Magic textbook (nobody would ever be interested enough in one of those to filch it back) and she hopes that it's enough to make sure that no one distracts her in her research.

She has never had experience of the amorous sort before, and she has run out of things to put in the letters she's been sending to Sebastian - they were all just things she had been thinking, or things that she's overheard the boys saying when they thought they were alone. But what she's been reading in Sacharissa's novel - if it can even be called that - are enough to make her so hot and bothered that she's not sure if she should retreat back to her dorm room to read it in peace. As her eyes fly over the words, she pictures Sebastian doing those things to her, with her, and it's enough to make it so she's not even sure she can look him in the eye ever again. The feeling of his hand on her thigh the day before has imprinted itself on her body and in her brain and she barely got any sleep because of it.

"What are you reading?" asks Anne as she plops herself down on the bench, trying to look over her shoulder. She flinches and slams her book shut as fast as possible, feeling her traitorous face heat up. She knows she's making it all more suspicious, but Anne cannot find out. Anne shrugs and starts buttering her toast, stifling a yawn. "I never knew that the Vampire Treatises of the 15th century were so interesting. By the way, have you seen my brother at all? I couldn't find him last night and - Oi, Sebastian!"

Anne stands halfway up and starts waving him over, and she wishes she could vanish. Maybe, instead of researching fresh ways to torture him, she should have been learning how to most effectively vanish oneself from the face of the Earth. She's sure the heat she feels burning her cheeks as she sees him walk over to them is translating to her face being a bright, red, ugly beacon calling to him.

As he walks over to their table, looking entirely too irresistible in that plaid jacket of his, Merlin, his growth spurt really -

"Ladies," he says, nodding at them as he takes a seat across the table, "how did you sleep?"

She knows he's giving her a pointed look as he asks, but she has started to choke on the pumpkin juice she started drinking as he walked over - she is, unfortunately, picturing them doing some of the filthy things she's just read together - and could she really make more of a fool of herself than she already has at this point? But then - he grabs her book. Her heart lurches but she can't do anything due to the fact she's still spluttering over her pumpkin juice, and she watches in horrified fascination as he starts flicking through the pages. His eyebrows raise steadily higher and higher as he reads, his own face turning a shade of red she's certain matches her own. She curses herself again - vampires are so interesting, of course he would want to read about them - she should have made the cover a topic she knows Sebastian hates, like a compendium of spells to boost fingernail growth or a Duncan Hobhouse biography - but it's too late now.

Sebastian clears his throat and glances at her, and she sees uncertainty, vulnerability in his eyes as they make brief contact with hers. Finally her brain starts working - quite possibly for the first time since she started this stupid game in Herbology on Monday - and she hastily stands up, snatching the book from Sebastian's hands - he puts up no resistance - and clutches it to her chest as she blurts out in one breath: "I-slept-terribly-last-night-and-it's-all-thanks-to-you."

And now, she's fleeing the Great Hall, wondering what's gotten into her.

She next sees Sebastian during their Ancient Runes class. Well, she doesn't actually see him: she's made it a point to be the first to enter the class, and keeps her head down as she stares at her parchment the second everything is set up perfectly. Inkwell - parchment - her stupid replacement quill - textbook - everything is in place. After the disastrous event otherwise known as breakfast, she's decided that she's over her silly little crush, and she will never think about Sebastian Sallow again. She will never think about things she might say that will make him laugh again, she will never think of book recommendations again, she will certainly never think of his strong hands caressing her thigh again, and she will never, ever -

A tiny paper fox climbs into her hand.

I didn't get any sleep last night either, because of you. P.S. I still have your quill.

She flushes and looks over her shoulder. Sebastian flashes her a crooked smile that makes her stomach lurch in an unfamiliar way, before he ducks his head down and continues to scribble his translations with her quill. Her quill. A new flash of hatred surges through her - that's what these intense feelings must be - and she decides she needs to get it back.

Instead of translations, she hatefully scribbles down everything that she wants to do to Sebastian Sallow - she wants punch his stupid face, wait: she wants to kiss his stupid freckled face and hold his silly beautiful hands and she wants to feel the deep rumble of his laugh after her jokes as she rests her head on his shoulder and she wants to read next to him and have things be back to how they always were, and yet she wants more than that, more than just being friends, it's what she's wanted all along, isn't it? - and she marches after him when the class has finished.

Sebastian doesn't spare her a glance even though he has to know she's behind him with how much noise her frustrated huffing makes as they weave through the throngs of students in the hallways. It's lunchtime, and yet instead of heading to the Great Hall, he's leading her somewhere else.

He finally stops when they reach the top of the Astronomy Tower, and she opens her mouth to protest. She knows she's terribly flushed, her chest heaving as she glares up at him: "You are despicable! I need my quill -"

She's cut off from speaking as before she knows it, his hands are caressing her face and he is kissing her. Oh, Merlin, it's better than she could have hoped it to be, and her own traitorous body and mind have forgotten the alliance formed against him in the face of Sebastian Sallow's persistence and she's wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down closer, making sure he can't get away from her again.

Maybe later she can show him all of her notes on how much she hates him and they can have a laugh. Maybe later they can revisit some passages from the book she filched.

But right now, she doesn't let go of Sebastian.

[elliespassagerprincess]

Hi love would you mind making a part for professor!ellie where reader is pregnant again OR when their daughter grows up ?

Amazing work btw

Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

professor ellie masterlist

☆ Aurora’s favorite thing to do is sit on Ellie’s lap during her late-night grading sessions, asking questions like, “Are your students as smart as me?”

☆ She wears glasses just like Ellie now—reader thinks they’re twins.

☆ Aurora mimics Ellie’s mannerisms, like adjusting her glasses when she’s nervous or tilting her head when thinking.

☆ She already knows how to read short paragraphs and corrects people’s grammar—even Ellie’s, which makes her beam with pride.

☆ Aurora's drawings always include three people—Mama, Mommy, and her—but now a fourth baby blob is starting to appear in the corner labeled “Arny.”

☆ When you went into labor, Aurora tried to pack her own bag “to help,” which included crayons, a banana, and Ellie’s old lecture clicker.

☆ Ellie sometimes brings Aurora to campus events. She introduces her proudly with “This is my daughter. She’s smarter than my entire first-year class.”

☆ Aurora makes Ellie bracelets from string and demands she wear them even during lectures. She always does.

☆ Aurora asks science questions constantly. Ellie answers all of them with a whiteboard and diagrams.

☆ You once walked in on Aurora “lecturing” her stuffed animals, using Ellie’s tone exactly.

☆ Ellie writes down Aurora’s quotes in a leather-bound “Aurora Archive” journal.

☆ She refers to Ellie as “the smartest person alive” and you as “the prettiest.”

☆ Aurora’s handwriting practice turned into a full essay on why “Mommy Ellie is too bossy, but I still love her.”

☆ Ellie was obsessively thorough about the IVF process, reading every published study on embryo grading, success rates, and maternal health. She made color-coded charts for each clinic they considered.

☆ The decision to have a second child came after Aurora turned five, when she looked up at them one night and asked, “Why don’t I have a baby brother or sister?”

☆ Ellie wanted a boy this time, not because she loved Aurora any less, but because she was fascinated by how different he might be — still theirs, but uniquely his own.

☆ You carried Arnold, just like with Aurora, and Ellie was even more attentive this time—bringing snacks, checking nutrient levels, monitoring stress like a hawk.

☆ You used the same donor, ensuring Arnold and Aurora were biologically related, and Ellie cried when they found out the embryo had successfully implanted.

☆ Ellie held her breath during every scan, gripping your hand tightly until they saw that tiny heartbeat flicker on the screen.

☆ At home, Ellie converted her study into a nursery months before it was needed, painting it a rich forest green and hanging hand-painted space-themed art on the walls.

☆ She read academic articles aloud to your belly, mumbling about epigenetics and language development, hoping Arnold would be a little genius like his sister.

☆ Aurora would whisper secrets to her unborn brother, telling him what not to do so “Mama doesn’t freak out.”

☆ You and Ellie filmed short video diaries for Arnold, each one ending with Aurora saying, “Hurry up and come out, dummy.”

☆ Your pregnancy with Arnold was harder than Aurora’s — more nausea, more exhaustion — and Ellie handled everything from meals to laundry to carrying you to bed if you fell asleep on the couch.

☆ Ellie barely slept the night you went into labor, pacing in circles around their bedroom and triple-checking the hospital bag every 10 minutes.

☆ When Arnold was born, Ellie was the first to cry, trembling as she cut the umbilical cord and kissed your sweaty forehead, whispering, “You did it. He’s here.”

☆ Arnold was a quiet baby—unlike his fiery older sister—and when the nurse handed him to Ellie, he blinked up at her with wide, moss-green eyes.

☆ Aurora was the first to hold Arnold after them, sitting carefully on the hospital bed, her small arms wrapped awkwardly around her baby brother, declaring, “He smells weird. But he’s cute.”

☆ Ellie took an extended sabbatical from the university, something she never did for herself, but did without hesitation for Arnold and you.

☆ She kept a detailed baby log, recording every feeding, nap, and developmental milestone like it was groundbreaking research. (“He smiled at 4 weeks. Do you know how rare that is?”)

☆ You would often find Ellie in the middle of the night, swaying gently in the rocking chair with Arnold on her chest, whispering about constellations and music theory.

☆ Aurora helped with diaper changes, read bedtime stories to Arnold (whether he was awake or not), and told everyone at school, “I have a brother. He’s gonna be smarter than all of you.”

☆ Ellie constantly takes pictures of the three of you—you nursing, Aurora playing peekaboo, Arnold asleep on Ellie’s chest. She prints them, dates them, and keeps them in a growing archive labeled The Love We Made.

☆ Arnold has Ellie wrapped around his tiny fingers already—she holds him like he’s made of glass.

☆ She was an emotional wreck the day he was born, whispering “You’re here. You’re real,” over and over.

☆ Ellie sobbed in the hospital bathroom, clutching a photo of Aurora and trying to calm her nerves before holding Arnold for the first time.

☆ She made laminated feeding/diapering schedules and color-coded copies for both reader and herself.

☆ Ellie insisted on staying awake every night at first. You had to force her to rest by dragging her to bed.

☆ Her obsession with checking his breathing every 20 minutes has led to installing four different monitors.

☆ Ellie reads academic articles to him during nap time—“gotta start the kid early.”

☆ His nursery is space-themed. Ellie picked every star and constellation herself and even made a mobile from scratch.

☆ She prints out graphs of his growth and annotates them.

☆ You caught Ellie softly kissing Arnold’s forehead while murmuring, “I’ll protect you forever. I promise.”

☆ She calls him “my little theory” because she wants to “test how much love a person can feel before they combust.”

☆ Ellie holds Arnold for hours while writing lectures one-handed, content even if it takes twice as long.

☆ She talks about him constantly at work—“Sorry my email’s late. My son drooled on my laptop.”

☆ Ellie insisted on giving him a middle name that references a philosopher—Arnold Pascal Williams.

☆ She puts little leather-bound books in his crib for aesthetic photos.

☆ Ellie made a password-protected photo archive titled “Arnold Growth Logs.”

☆ She has framed side-by-side ultrasound pictures of Aurora and Arnold on her office wall.

☆ You found Ellie singing lullabies in Hebrew and Latin just for “academic diversity.”

☆ She’s more patient with Arnold than she’s ever been with anyone.

☆ Ellie’s phone is overloaded with baby pics—she has a folder just labeled “Arnsmol.”

☆ She wrote a 10-page email to the pediatrician just asking about sleep regression.

☆ Ellie gets extremely possessive when someone other than you or Aurora holds Arnold.

☆ Her glasses fog up when she gets overwhelmed watching both kids together.

☆ Arnold’s first smile made Ellie go silent for ten minutes, then cry like a waterfall.

☆ She lowkey competes with you over who Arnold calms down with faster.

☆ She stares at you when she’s breastfeeding, completely mesmerized.

☆ Ellie reads textbooks on postpartum care so she can understand everything reader is experiencing.

☆ She canceled her own faculty conference trip because Arnold had a cold.

☆ Ellie redesigned her lecture schedule so she never misses bedtime for either child.

☆ Ellie’s gone full mama bear—she snapped at a stranger who called Arnold “it.”

☆ She started a private blog documenting her “Motherhood and Academia” journey, but only you have the link.

☆ Ellie sometimes forgets to eat if the baby’s crying—but never forgets to feed him.

☆ You teases Ellie about her “unofficial PhD in parenting.” Ellie secretly loves it.

☆ Arnold’s first laugh made Ellie record five videos trying to recreate the sound.

☆ She leaves love notes inside your breast pump bag.

☆ She wants to homeschool both kids—your not fully convinced yet.

☆ Ellie smells Arnold’s head constantly. Says it’s “baby serotonin.”

☆ Ellie cried when Aurora said “Arnold is my best friend forever.”

☆ She’s started humming lullabies even while writing lectures now.

☆ She talks to Arnold about how they’ll build rockets or dissect frogs together someday.

☆ Ellie calls Aurora and Arnold her “entire thesis on love.”

☆ She still panics during diaper changes—even though she’s read three parenting books.

☆ Ellie smells like baby lotion, chalkboard dust, and coffee now.

☆ Her voice softens immediately when either kid cries.

☆ Ellie doodles tiny versions of Aurora and Arnold in her margins during meetings.

☆ Ellie sometimes stares at you and just whispers, “How did I get this lucky?”

☆ She tells Arnold he looks like you, then whispers, “thank god.”

☆ Ellie calls their family of four “the most important study she’ll ever conduct.”

[thehighladywrites]

masterlist.

a court of thornes and roses

rhysand

ᜊ Beneath their smiles - your friends turn out to be using you, comfort and hurt

ᜊ Texting Rhysand - smau

ᜊ Sugar daddy Rhysand - big dick daddy rhysand spends cash on you and falls in love, breaking your agreement

ᜊ “Just one more, I know you can do it” - rhys has a massive breeding kink

ᜊ “This isn’t goodbye, this is simply see you later” - ex husband/baby daddy rhysand

ᜊ “I got you, darling…” - Rhys takes care of you on your period

ᜊ the secret life of a secretary - ceo rhysand x bimbo secretary reader

azriel

ᜊ Texting Azriel - smau

ᜊ Texting Azriel pt. 2 - smau

ᜊ Need you so bad baby, please… - ovulation week hits you hard, you need your mate

ᜊ Azzie, I think your mom is super hot… - you meet azriels mother and develop a little crush on her

ᜊ I still remember the third of December, me in your sweater… - angst, just plain angst with a somewhat bittersweet ending

ᜊ “Tell me you’re mine” , “ i’m yours” - you dream that azriel was cheating on you and now you can’t look at him without being annoyed. It’s not really his fault, but still… azriel reassures you, promising that you’re the only one for him.

ᜊ “You can even call me daddy, give you someone to look up to” - sugar daddy azriel spoils you

ᜊ “If it’s so wrong, why does it feel so good?” - azriel is a stalker and pervy guy

ᜊ The sessions masterlist - nerdy azriel x bimbo reader

ᜊ “You were flirting with me?” - you doubt Azriel even likes you since all he does is stare into your soul. Azriel thinks he is very clear when he stares, why do you not understand that he is flirting?

cassian

ᜊ That’s your mother but she’s my wife first… - your kids loose their tempers, cassian reminds them who you are, nsfw, light angst, hurt & comfort

ᜊ The Airhead Chronicles: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 - cassian is mates to a ditzy reader, and he loves her more than anything. How do they function together? - FINISHED

ᜊ “make her squirt on my balmain shirt” - cassian finds out you can squirt

ᜊ you’re just like me - cassian thinks of you as his insanely obsessive ex girlfriend who’s downrightcrazy. you are obviously cassian’s one true love and will eliminate anything that stands in your way. nsfw, obsessive themes, dark themes

eris vanserra

ᜊ Professor Eris x reader: part 1, part 2, part 2,5, part 3 part 4 part 5 - you hook up with this delicious older man for one fun night to forget your scummy ex, what do you do when the same man turns out to be your new professor? What do you do when that same professor had a dark secret? - ONGOING

ᜊ Vanserra brothers NSFW Alphabet - nsfw, crack, a sprinkle of angst

feyre archeron

ᜊ “let’s settle this catfight in the ring, let’s settle this in bed” - enemies to lovers, smut, angst, jealousy

elain archeron

soon

lucien vanserra

ᜊ Vanserra brothers NSFW Alphabet - nsfw, crack, a sprinkle of angst

acotar men x reader

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, sneaking out to a bar while you’re drunk - smau, multi men, tiny bit nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, using doe eyes on them - nsfw, multi men, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, putting bows on their things - headcanons, multi men, cute asf

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, you being asexual - smau, multi men, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, sassy man apocalypse - smau, multi men, crack

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, being their sneaky link - multi men, nsfw, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, banning them from intimacy - multi men, nsfw, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, meeting your parents - multi men, headcanons, crack, fluff

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, your child catches you in the act - multi men, headcanons, crack, nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, sitting on their lap - multi men, headcanons, nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, them as your baby daddies - multi men, nsfw

DEALER DIARIES SERIES - different fics/headcanons/drabbles of the acotar men as drug dealers/involved in drugs

multi characters

ᜊ Breaking up with the acotar characters as a prank - smau, multi

ᜊ Texting “ She’s busy “ as a prank with the acotar characters - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, ” I had a really fun time yesterday. Oops wrong person ” - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, creepy man hitting on drunk reader - smau, multi, tiny bit nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, we need to talk - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, sending them nudes/lingerie pics - smau, multi, nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, asking them for hand pics - smau, multi, tiny bit nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, “can i get x’s number?” - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, doing elf on the shelf for your kids - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, random texts - smau, nsfw, multi

ᜊ nsfw visual links for them - multi, smut, nsfw,

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, “where’s my treat?” - multi, nsfw-ish

ᜊ ACOTAR characters using twitter; pt 1 | pt 2 - nsfw, swearing

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, forgetting your anniversary - smau, angst, multi

[ghostedgwen]

like sinking ships | r.lupin [part one]

note : hello, welcome to a new mini series! I am so excited to be writing this as I have been drafting the story and its layout in my head for over weeks, it took a while to properly map it out on paper so I'm only writing it now. I hope you guys enjoy and tysm!

warnings/tags : hints of angst from remus' self-deprecation, mildly depressing themes, self hate(?), remus hates being a werewolf, vulgar language from hormonal teenagers, mild suggestive themes (no smut ofc), remus pov

Remus Lupin was always quietly observing people through the covers of his books. So when he noticed your monthly disappearances matched his, he only had one conclusion— that was you were a werewolf like him.

A story in which the marauders beg you to help them tame the wolf with your charming powers; two children of the moon that couldn’t be more different from each other in a tangled mess of transformations, betrayal and heartbreak.

. . . What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

Remus was surprised to find he was made Prefect – he knew he would be the obvious choice among his friends but it still surprised him.

He has spent a good chunk of his time in Hogwarts hiding away every month at the Shrieking Shack, forced to endure pain like no other all alone. He was safe, but most importantly, they were safe from him.

He was four when he was bitten. He had been safe on a tiny bed, tucked in after story time when he felt searing pain ripple through him in the form of teeth. Teeth deep in him, rattling him awake and he was never the same since.

Could you imagine being barely 5, transforming under the moon? Just a babe, with milk-stained teeth being ripped apart and put back together into something else. He was so small then, a tiny wolf cub that whimpered and cowered in the dark. A wolf did not recognize human parents, it was scared more than it had scared them.

He was but a tiny thing without a pack, a small wolf that did not know how to put words into the pain and loneliness he felt. Remus Lupin, just a baby, barely a boy, was a monster long before he overcame his fear of them.

Ever since then, he has only known pain. It was a friend that visited every full moon night, stayed with him until dawn, and it sat with him through it. Pain is an old friend that has grown up alongside him, as he got older, so did the pain.

So if he was asked if he expected it, he would say ‘yes’. He had expected he would be considered, the only one that seemed ‘responsible’ among Marauders, but that’s only because he never claimed credits from the prank ideas that were majorly his.

It’s been known that he sticks out like a sore thumb among them and it’s not just the tall stature. He was quiet, he did his work in due time, and he excelled in every class he took.

So yes, while he expected it, he did not really think Dumbledore would allow it. Or even McGonagall, who he thought knew better than to put a monster in a position of authority. Because that’s what he is, right? What else can you call a creature who only knew how to hurt itself and the people around it?

It felt like an assurance to see himself be branded as a Prefect. They saw him as more than just a monster, he was an honour student - one the Professors acknowledged and knowing that, in some way made him feel validated.

“Congratulations on the Prefect thing, Moonbeam!” Sirius greeted him as soon as he slid the compartment door open. The train was loud with students piling in and parents shuffling out. 

“Yeah, congrats Mr.Responsible Prefect,” James was holding back his laughter. “Bet he’s too good for pranks.”

“Oh, they grow up too fast!” Peter chided, all dramatic with the back of his hand to his forehead.

Sirius stopped laughing to contribute, “How our greatest ally has become the enemy!”

Remus rolled his eyes. He hasn’t even put away his luggage and they’re already accosting him with their antics. He puts his bag on the overhead compartment and sat down next to Peter with a huff.

“You tossers barely let me have time to sit down first,” he rolled his eyes again.

“Oh please don’t take away house points this early, I beg of you!” Peter exclaimed dramatically, shaking his arm with a look of panic. James and Sirius are losing it, laughing with their heads thrown back.

Remus can only crack a smile while his friends’ laughters echoed through the train walls. They were enjoying this too much, but he’s glad to have them so he can enjoy the news with other people.

“Arseholes,” Remus muttered with a smile tugging at his lips. “This is exactly why I was made Prefect and not you bloody wankers.”

“D’ya hear that, mate?” Sirius asked James with a tilt of his head towards Remus who sat across them, still being manhandled by Peter. “Remmy here got himself a Prefect badge and is acting all high and mighty on us.”

James turned to look at Remus and glared, a smile was fighting its way to his lips. “My, Mister Lupin how you have changed drastically. You have let all the power get to your head.”

Another set of laughter, this time he joined in so all four of them was losing it like they just heard the funniest joke ever said - perhaps they have. Remus forgot all doubts he had about the position.

He was worried about being worthy of it, his thoughts drifting to dark places that entertained the possibility that had there been someone else aside the three idiots, he wouldn’t be chosen - all of that melted away in the presence of the Marauders.

His friends who were all too talented at getting rid of all the negative things that swirled in his head. He can never stay upset long when they are all together like this, he really believes that this is where he was meant to be. 

Hogwarts felt impossible when he was 11 and a scarred little boy. Now, it feels like home that he could never imagine being without.

“So, how long do we have before you have to go have your super important Prefect meeting?” Sirius asked with a raised brow once the laughter slowly died down.

Remus shrugged. “I figured Evans will come pick me up,” and right on cue, the door slid open and there was Lily Evans in all her brilliant glory looking around. “There she is.”

“Remus, congratulations!” Lily greeted, smiling warmly at him.

“Thanks, congrats as well,” Remus returned it. “Saw that one coming.”

“Congrats on getting Prefect, Lupin!” Marlene greeted him, wiping the trail of pumpkin juice down her chin. “You were obviously the only choice.”

James scoffed at her words. “I can also be very responsible, nevermind these two, I would have made a great Prefect.”

Both Peter and Sirius lets out an offended ‘hey’ at the same time which he pointedly ignored, he turned his head to Lily who was watching the exchange. “The universe just knew Lily-Flower would fall for me all too easily if we got paired together as Prefects.”

Lily makes a face at him. “You wish.”

“Oh I do,” James winked.

Remus shakes his head in feigned disappointment and turned back to Marlene who sat across him. “Thanks,” then he raised an amused brow. “Don’t expect me to turn a blind eye when I see you sneaking out to visit the dungeons past curfew.”

Marlene only smirked in response and continued enjoying her dinner.

“She and Meadowes are still acting like a bunch of horny fourth-years,” Mary gagged while she was cutting up her steak. “Can’t you just wait until the next day to get a shag?”

Marlene sent an offended look to Mary who sat next to her. “Just because you have no one to shag with doesn’t mean you should tell me what to do.”

“Please, we just got back, can we not talk about shagging of all things?” Lily asked them, looking almost defeated through mouthfuls of roasted chicken. “We are at dinner, for Merlin’s sake.”

Remus almost laughed. It was funny hearing Lily swear like a wizard because she grew up in the muggle world, but the wizarding world has surely been rubbing off on her.

“Speaking of shagging, yall think this year is my year?” Sirius asked, smirking as he sent a look towards the Hufflepuff table. They all turned, already knowing who he meant.

Remus trailed his eyes across the Great Hall to find you. You who sat so perfectly in your robes, not a single wrinkle and even as you moved in the bustling table - you looked so graceful.

“You have been at it since last year, she is not shagging you - let alone snog you,” Marlene rolled her eyes and threw a look of disgust at Sirius.

Sirius ignored the negativity. “Come on, I’m Sirius Black, I even grew a bit over the summer so surely she’ll give me a chance this year,” Sirius then stretched his lips into a knowing smirk. “Wanna guess what else grew over the summer?”

There was a collective groan among their circle which he laughed at so shamelessly. Peter was the only one mildly amused. Remus fought the urge to throw up on him as he was chewing his steak.

“You are disgusting,” Mary groaned.

“Thank you,” Sirius quipped.

They all returned to their meals but Remus allowed his gaze to linger on you. Not much was known about you. You were in their year, got sorted into Hufflepuff and you have practically been the it girl of Hogwarts ever since you set foot in it.

It’s like you had magic that surrounded you all the time that pulled people in without even meaning to - had it not been for your features, people would have guessed you were a Veela - some still suspect you might be one, partly.

Remus doubts it, if he were asked of his own personal opinions about you. He admits there was a certain air around you, he would be lying if he said you didn’t catch his eye - he was not blind.

You were always a treat to the eyes. You are beautiful, in ways that scared him. He knew he wasn’t allowed to feel anything of the sort for anyone, not with his condition and not with someone like you.

So perfect, so free from the scars he has and you were too far.

Sirius has been trying to make moves on you since fourth-year, the year when the rake of Gryffindor house was awakened, and he’s made it some ultimate goal to achieve you. Remus thought it was very sexist, you weren’t some trophy to be won but Sirius insists that you’d be in on the game if you returned his advances.

You never did.

All your years at Hogwarts with boys and girls falling over themselves at your feet and not once did you entertain any of them, you couldn’t have cared less as you focused more on your studies and your friends.

And that was all he knew about you.

Remus looked away before the staring got too creepy. He continues eating while he listened in on the chatter, he kept himself from looking back up in fear that he’d get lost in thoughts again and would be caught by his friends.

By doing so, he failed to see how you turned and looked over your shoulder to watch him.

Remus has finished putting all his things away, he’s still dressed in uniform while his friends have all changed into more comfortable clothes. There’s Sirius with his loose trousers - shirtless in all his pale glory, James in matching Quidditch-themed pyjamas and Peter in an oversized Jumper (Remus’s of course) and pyjama trousers.

They were all prepared for bed while he was dressed for patrols.

“Sucks to be you,” Sirius teased and Remus did not rise to the bait.

“Yeah, I’m taking the map so don’t even bother sneaking out," Remus smirked and Sirius scoffed in feigned offence at him.

James yawned, he was all ready to tuck in for the night after the tiring trip back to Hogwarts and the ruckus in the Great Hall. “Goodnight, lads.”

All three boys returned it in unison.

Remus then was out of the dormitory and into the common room where a few students lingered. He raised a brow at the loitering first-years and cleared his throat, “Best go to your dormitories, it’s almost curfew.”

They all exchanged looks then nodded amongst themselves, scurrying off to the stairs and Remus tried not to look too relieved that the younger students adhered to his authority, and made his way out of the Fat Lady’s portrait.

Once he was out, he began making his way to his designated place of patrol, taking in how empty the castle looked at night. He guessed it was different when you’re not under a cloak sneaking about.

He allowed the comfortable silence to waft all over him. Home was been nice, Hope and Lyall were the best parents possible. In their own way, they managed to be amazing parents to a creature.

They had been given a boy, they loved him and looked forward to his bright future but all it took was a single night - a single bite to forever change that and their entire lives were spun on its head.

He was no longer a boy and still, they remained parents. Remus thinks back to his parents back at home, they worry so over him every full moon but he makes sure to keep the worse of it away from them.

He lies through his teeth that being around friends was helping him get better. ‘The transformations are less painful’, yeah right. If anything, the more he grows closer to the boys, the worse it gets.

While Remus Lupin grew deeper connections and formed stronger bonds - the wolf grew more lonely and more needy of its own pack, he was struggling to keep it all at bay. The older he gets, so does the wolf.

How does one even contain a wolf going through its own puberty?

It was getting harder and harder to keep it all in but he knew he had to be alone in this. He can’t risk anyone else, so he figured with Prefect duties. . .it might be the perfect excuse to drift apart from the boys.

He’ll claim he’s busy, occupied with patrols, anything to keep them at an appropriate distance. He’s enjoyed them too much, it was time to pay his dues to the moon.

The full moon is tonight, as expected - Remus Lupin is on the edge. He feels irritated at everyone and everything, his skin is itchy and he feels like burning from a fever from the inside. It was always like this, only it gets worse every year.

The effects get more intense as he grows older and the wolf inside him grows with him. During this time, it gets hard to eat. He can’t stop thinking that if he eats, he feeds the wolf as well and he still has not come to terms with it.

The wolf isn’t him. He refuses to accept it. He sees it as a whole ‘nother being, like some parasite that has invaded his body, an unwelcomed entity that entangled itself to his soul.

He was scared, in all honesty. Scared that as the years go by and the wolf gets bigger and older - it will overtake him. He’ll lose Remus Lupin, and it would just be the wolf. 

“You don’t have to go patrol,” James offered with a careful tone, smiling slightly to show the kindness in his words. “McGonagall would understand, you know, with the full moon and all.”

Remus lets out an irritated sigh, the boys watched in anticipation. “It’s just fucking patrol, all I have to do is walk around the castle and make sure no one’s shagging in the corners past curfew. I’ll be back in time for yet another amazing time at the Shrieking Shack.”

They were used to him snapping by now, they knew not to take it to heart - that he had no control of his temper and his mouth once the wolf was stirring in him under the full moon’s control.

“Alright,” Sirius spoke, voice soft. “Just be careful, yeah?”

Remus released the tension on his shoulders then, just enough to lessen the unreasonable anger he felt. “Yeah, I will.”

Once he left and was out of earshot, Sirius managed a chuckle at the two other boys. “A swearwolf that one,” James rolled his eyes and Peter made a face, “yeah? No? Okay. Tough crowd.”

Remus was just about to finish his patrol when he spotted something odd in the map. He knew it would be cheating to bring the map with him during patrols but it’s not like the school rules stated anything against it.

He justified it by claiming it made him perform his duties more effectively. He was lucky enough to convince both Head Girl and Head Boy to let him do his patrols alone without a partner, he didn't need a partner anyway.

He was about to tuck away the map on his walk back to the Gryffindor common room when he saw your name rushing out of the castle. He didn’t have time to question it, you were heading for the courtyard and into the black lake when he realized he had to rush back in time to meet Madam Pomfrey.

You were forgotten as he ran on his way back, racing with time before the full moon took hold of its reigns that was right over him.

taglist : @eeviee4 @wen-oo @booklover2503 @izzyluvsmms (send an ask or reply to be added to the taglist!)

part two | masterlist

[sammhisphere]

In the Quiet, You Stay- Lee Know 이 리노

SUPPORT YOUR WRITERS REBLOG/LIKE

Summary: You and Lee Know have been best friends for years, sharing secrets, dreams, and quiet moments in between your busy lives. But when the line between friendship and something more starts to blur, you find yourselves exploring new feelings neither of you expected. As you navigate this delicate shift, your connection deepens with shy touches, stolen glances, and late-night conversations that lead to unforgettable, intimate moments. This is a story of friendship evolving into love, where vulnerability and desire intertwine, and where the comfort of a best friend becomes the passion of a lover.

Word Count: ~9.35k

Warnings: 18+ (explicit content and mature themes). Contains intimate scenes and sensual moments, slow-burn romance with gradual escalation. Emotional vulnerability and tender moments, degradation.

~

You didn’t expect a knock at your door at 11:47 p.m.

Especially not from Lee Minho, wearing a hoodie pulled low over his head and a tote bag slung over one shoulder like he didn’t just come from performing in front of thousands of screaming fans.

You blinked. “You said you were flying in tomorrow.” “I lied,” he said with a tired smile. “Let me in. It’s cold.” You stepped aside without another word, watching as he kicked off his shoes with a practiced flick and beelined straight for your couch, flopping down like he owned the place.

Same Minho.

“You good?” you asked, walking in with a glass of water. “I’m fried,” he muttered, arm slung over his eyes. “Three straight weeks of filming, concerts, rehearsals. Chan’s threatening to confiscate my phone. Hyunjin told me I look like a broom.” You snorted. “You do look a little like one.” He cracked an eye open and narrowed it at you. “Like you don’t?”

You sank onto the armchair across from him, curling your legs beneath you. “Why’re you here?” Minho sat up slowly. “Just wanted to see you. It’s been a while.” It had. Texts and FaceTime weren’t the same as this, sitting in your tiny living room with laundry on the chair and your half-open bio textbook still on the floor. You weren’t part of his world anymore, not since he moved to Seoul and became a name people screamed at in airports. But somehow, you weren’t not part of it either; you lived 30 minutes from Seoul and met occasionally. 

You studied him as he leaned back again, face drawn but content. “You okay?” you asked quietly. He didn’t answer at first. Then “Sometimes I get so caught up in it all, I forget this exists.” You tilted your head. “This,” he repeated, gesturing vaguely. “You. Home. A place I don’t have to prove anything.” You bit your lip, feeling your chest ache a little. “You don’t have to prove anything anywhere.” He looked at you then, really looked. “You’d say that even if I was jobless and dancing in a convenience store parking lot.”

You shrugged. “I’d make you wear a sandwich board for extra tips.” He laughed, for real this time. “God, I missed you.” You smiled softly. “Missed you too, Min.” The silence settled comfortably again. You watched as he slowly blinked, eyes heavy, limbs looser now. He hadn’t even taken his coat off. Just dropped into your space like no time had passed.

“I have midterms soon,” you said after a minute. “Haven’t slept properly in days.” He peeked up. “Want me to quiz you?” You snorted. “You know nothing about cell signaling pathways.” “I’ll just say ‘wrong’ with a dramatic gasp every few minutes. Like a real professor.” “Don’t tempt me,” you muttered, but your lips twitched.

He was staying over, he always did when he visited. No hotels. Just the spare blanket and the couch he’d claimed as his years ago. You cleaned up your papers and let him change into the extra sweats he kept in your closet, still folded from last time. He curled up like a cat, back facing the room, quiet. You turned off the lights. And just before slipping into your own room, you heard him whisper, almost too soft:

“Thanks for not changing.” Your heart squeezed. You didn’t reply. But he knew.

~

The next morning is cold. Not winter-cold, but the kind that makes you wrap your hoodie tighter and shuffle to the kitchen in fuzzy socks. Your place smells like old textbooks and dust and something faintly citrus from the dish soap. It smells like home.

Minho’s still curled up on the couch when you walk in, a blanket tugged over his shoulder, hair messy and sticking up at odd angles. His phone rests face down on the coffee table, untouched. You make tea instead of coffee. He never liked coffee first thing. As you’re pouring hot water into a chipped mug, you hear him stir.

“… Is it Thursday?” he mumbles, voice rough from sleep. You glance back. “It’s Saturday.” “Oh.” A pause. “Even better.” He sits up slowly, stretching his arms above his head. “Why’s your place always freezing?” “Because I’m poor,” you deadpan. “Do you want the sad blanket or the even sadder blanket?” He gestures toward the tea in your hand. “I want that.”

You hand him the mug wordlessly. He wraps both hands around it, the way he always does, like it’s a ritual. For a long moment, you sit in silence. No phones. No cameras. Just the sound of the water heater and a slight hum from the fridge. Then “How’s school?”

You blink. “Terrible. Want to help me drop out?” He snorts. “If you drop out, you’re moving in with me and paying rent with ramen packets.” “Fine,” you mutter. “I’ll finish my degree.” You both sip in silence again. It’s not awkward. It’s never been awkward.

He looks tired still, but softer, more at ease. You glance over. “How’s… everything? Really?” He sighs. “Loud. Busy. Too many voices telling me who I am.” That sits between you both like a stone. Then he adds, quieter, “Sometimes I forget what it feels like to be just Minho.” You say nothing for a beat. Then, “You’re just Minho here.”

He looks at you. “No fans. No expectations. Just the kid who once tripped over my backpack and blamed gravity.” A tiny grin cracks across his lips. “It was a faulty zipper.” “It was physics.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “God, you’re still such a nerd.” You grin. “And you’re still a menace.” Minho sets his mug down and leans back against the couch, eyes fluttering closed again.

“Do you think we’ll still be like this when we’re thirty?” he asks suddenly. You blink. “What?” “This,” he says again. “Us. Just… sitting. Talking. Not needing anything else.” You smile. “Yeah. I think we will.” He hums. And you know he believes you. You glance at your watch. “I have to study.” He waves a hand lazily. “Go. I’ll still be here. Not going anywhere.” You get up, grab your laptop, and pause in the doorway. “You never have to prove anything here, Minho.” He looks up, eyes soft. “I know,” he says. “That’s why I always come back.”

~

You were curled up on the far end of the couch in Lee Know’s dorm, a steaming mug between your hands and your legs tucked underneath you. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that only comes when you’re close enough to someone that you don’t need to fill the silence. The sound of the washing machine spinning in the background, the soft hum of the heater, and the occasional clink of a spoon from the kitchen were the only interruptions.

He had gotten home late from practice, exhausted, hair still damp from a quick shower. You had already let yourself in earlier in the evening, something you'd done a million times before. His passcode hadn’t changed in years. “You eat?” he asked suddenly from the kitchen as he poked around the fridge, still in sweatpants and a loose hoodie that made him look younger.

You nodded, not looking up from your cup. “Yup. Left some pasta for you.” He walked over with a lazy smile, eyes crinkling, and sat beside you with a bowl in his hands, digging in without a second thought. “You’re the only reason I’ve had a home-cooked meal in weeks.” “You’re welcome,” you mumbled, stretching your legs out until your feet rested on his thigh. He didn’t flinch, he never did. This was just what you two were. Familiar, comfortable, steady.

“You’re quiet today,” he noted between bites. “Long week,” you shrugged. “Three back-to-back assignments, and I have a quiz on Monday.” He gave a low whistle and leaned his head back against the couch. “You’re crazy. I wouldn’t last five minutes in a university classroom.” “You barely lasted five minutes in high school.” “Yah.” You both broke into easy laughter, and for a second, the weight on your shoulders didn’t feel so heavy.

~

Later, you helped him clean up the kitchen. He stood behind you at the sink, reaching over your shoulder to grab a towel, his chest brushing lightly against your back for a moment longer than necessary. Your heart jumped. You moved slightly to the side and turned, only to find him already watching you. The lighting was dim, warm, soft around the edges like a scene out of a late-night drama. But this wasn’t that kind of story.

“Do you ever think,” you started slowly, drying your hands, “about how weird it is that I know everything about your boring personal life, but most people only know the you on stage?” Lee Know blinked once. Then twice. “I like that you know the boring stuff,” he said after a beat. “Feels like… I still have something that’s mine. Something real.” You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

~

The night wound down the way it always did when you stayed over. You both lay on opposite ends of his bed, the blanket tug-of-war already starting. Your phone buzzed with another university group chat blowing up, and his alarm was set for 5:30 AM. He looked over at you under the soft glow of his nightlight. “You okay?” “Yeah.” “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?” 

“Of course,” you lied. Or maybe it wasn’t a lie. You just didn’t know what to say anymore. Because every now and then, moments like that kitchen scene happened. And you’d think, if we weren’t best friends, would this be something else? But you pushed the thought away. Again.

~

The next few days blurred into one long stretch of textbooks, lecture notes, and the gentle ding of notifications from group chats you were tired of muting. You had barely slept, living off cold coffee and half-eaten toast. You hadn’t seen Lee Know all week. He texted sometimes. Usually something random. “I stepped on Seungmin’s plushie by accident, and he looked at me like I committed murder.” or “Are you alive or just slowly becoming part of your desk?”

But Thursday night, he called. You were lying face-down on your bed, brain fried from memorizing physiology notes, when your phone buzzed. “Hello?” you mumbled into your pillow. “You sound like you’ve been hit by a truck,” he said immediately. “I basically have. The truck was made of finals and sleepless nights.”

He didn’t laugh, but you heard his smile. “Come over.” You groaned. “Minho-” “I ordered your favorite chicken. You don’t have to talk. Just come be human furniture for a few hours.” You considered it. Your skin prickled at the idea of fresh air. And honestly, you missed him. More than you were willing to admit.

Thirty minutes later, you were curled up on the same couch, his blanket tossed over you, the drama he picked playing softly on the TV. He sat beside you in silence, eating his food slowly. He looked tired. Not just in the physical sense, something about his posture, the way his shoulder leaned into the cushion, like even sitting up was too much.

“You good?” you asked softly. He blinked, turning to look at you. “I had a rough week.” “You wanna talk about it?” He shook his head. “Not really.” So you nodded. That was the deal. You didn’t push. He didn’t run. You watched in silence as his gaze dropped to your hand resting beside his on the couch. He didn't move. Neither did you.

“Sometimes,” he said quietly, “I feel like I only breathe properly when you’re around.” Your breath hitched. But you didn’t flinch. Didn’t ruin the moment with some half-hearted joke like you usually would. “Me too,” you said. He glanced at you then. That unreadable look in his eyes again. Like he was trying to decide something. Or fight something. You looked away.

~

Later, when he was walking you to the door, you hesitated. “Minho,” you said, shifting from foot to foot. “Do you think we’ll always be like this?” He frowned. “Like what?” “This close. This… safe.” A pause. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I hope so.” You nodded slowly, chest tight. “I just don’t want to lose this,” you whispered. He tilted his head, watching you.

“Then we won’t.” He said it like a promise. And for now, you decided to believe him. “When did you get so big? I can't even hug you anymore.”

~

It wasn’t unusual for Minho to crash at your place when he needed to disappear for a bit. Your tiny apartment, with its mismatched cushions and soft music, was his sanctuary away from rehearsals and the spotlight. But tonight, he showed up with a duffel bag. "Are you moving in?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as he stepped in, hoodie over his head and mask still in place. “Technically? Just for the weekend,” he said, kicking his shoes off. “Chan hyung said I looked like I hadn’t slept in five days.” You made a face. “Have you?” “No comment.”

So you fed him, made him tea, and let him flop on your bed while you sat cross-legged on the floor, back against the side of the mattress, laptop open to your notes. His hand dangled lazily over the edge, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder as you typed. The silence between you was thick, but comforting. Familiar. Like a song you knew all the lyrics to.

“Y/N,” he said after a long stretch, voice low and tired. “Yeah?” “You’re the only place I feel real in.” The words didn’t make sense right away, not fully. But they settled over you like a soft blanket. Heavy with meaning. Full of things unsaid. You didn’t turn to look at him, afraid the emotion in your eyes might give too much away. “You’re real everywhere,” you said quietly. “No,” he murmured. “I’m someone else everywhere else. With you… I’m just me.”

You closed your laptop slowly. Then crawled up onto the bed beside him. He shifted, making room, and you curled beside him. Not touching. Not quite. The night passed slowly. You talked about small things, music, old memories, the time you got stuck in the rain after a festival, and had to hide under a stranger’s umbrella. He laughed so hard he wheezed. You loved that sound.

At some point, the laughter faded. His hand found yours beneath the blanket. It wasn’t romantic. Not intentionally. But it wasn’t innocent either. You stared at the ceiling, both of you pretending this wasn’t a shift. That your heart wasn’t thrumming. That his thumb wasn’t tracing soft circles on your wrist like it belonged there. “Do you ever think about what people would say if they knew?” you whispered. “Knew what?” “How much we mean to each other.”

He was silent for a moment. Then “I don’t care what they’d say.” You turned to look at him. He was already watching you. There was something in his gaze you hadn’t seen before. Or maybe you'd just never let yourself notice it. You could’ve leaned in. You could’ve closed the gap. But you didn’t. And neither did he. Because this was the space you lived in, the almost, the maybe, the comfort of what could be. And neither of you was ready to break it.

~

Later that night, after he’d fallen asleep, curled toward you, breath soft and even, you stayed awake. Thinking about the way he held your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Wondering if you were still just best friends. And terrified of what it would mean if you weren’t.

When you woke up, Minho wasn’t there. You got up and noticed him in the shower, so you sat on the couch thinking about last night when Minho returned a few minutes later, toweling off his damp hair. You were curled up on the couch with your laptop, trying to finish an assignment due at midnight. He peeked over your shoulder, reading the first few lines before flopping beside you with a dramatic sigh.

“You’re still doing schoolwork? It’s a Saturday.” “It’s due tonight,” you mumbled, not looking up. “And I procrastinated the entire week, so…” “I literally saw you binge two full dramas in three days,” he said flatly, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it. “And you ignored my texts.”

“Excuse me, I replied eventually.” “Two hours later with ‘oops.’” You smiled guiltily. “I was immersed.” Minho gave you a side glance. “In the plot or the male lead?” “…No comment.” He smirked and leaned back. “Must be nice. I don’t even have time to finish an episode these days.” You looked over at him, your fingers still resting on the keyboard. “How are you doing, though? Like… actually?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “I’m okay. Tired, mostly. But being on stage kind of resets everything. Makes it worth it.” You nodded, your tone soft. “You always seem like you’ve got it together. But I worry sometimes. I know being an idol is… a lot.” Minho didn’t answer immediately. The room settled into a comfortable silence, broken only by the faint hum of your laptop fan.

“I don’t talk about it much,” he said finally. “But yeah, it’s overwhelming sometimes. The schedules, the pressure to be perfect all the time, the comments online…” You shut your laptop and turned toward him fully. “You don’t have to be perfect, Min. Not with me.” He gave you a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes at first. “I know. That’s why I like coming here. You’re the only person who treats me like I’m just… Minho. Not Lee Know.” You scooted closer and bumped his knee gently with yours. “Because you are just Minho to me. My annoying best friend, who once cried because he bit into a dumpling too hot.”

His mouth dropped open in mock offense. “That was one time. And it burned my tongue!” You both laughed, the moment lightening again. “I’m glad you come here,” you said after a beat. “Even if it’s just to nap and steal my snacks.” “You love it when I nap here.” “I do not-okay, maybe I do.”

Minho tilted his head and looked at you curiously. “You’re one of the only people I can actually rest around.” You swallowed. There was something in his tone, gentle, sincere, almost vulnerable. “I’m glad,” you said quietly. “I always want you to feel safe here.” He nudged you with his foot. “You’re kind of my safe place.” That made your heart thud a little louder than usual, but you played it cool. “Does that mean I get honorary member status?” “No way,” he said instantly. “You’re too normal to survive in that dorm.” “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Minho chuckled, and then after a pause, said, “Promise you won’t disappear if things get busier? Or if I can’t reply often?” You blinked. “Minho… I’m not going anywhere.” He looked at you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. Then he nodded, once. “Good.” He didn’t say more, and neither did you. Instead, he handed you one of the pillows and leaned back, letting his shoulder brush against yours. Eventually, you reopened your laptop, and he pulled out his phone. Neither of you said much for a while, but the air felt lighter, somehow. Like home.

The afternoon sun slanted through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the living room where you and Minho sat. You were still curled up on the couch, textbooks spread on your lap, while he absentmindedly flipped through his phone beside you. The easy comfort between you felt familiar, like an old song you both knew the words to.

But beneath the surface, something had changed.

It wasn’t a dramatic moment or a sudden confession. It was the way his hand brushed yours when he reached over to grab a notebook. The way his eyes lingered on you a little longer than usual when you laughed at one of his jokes. The way your heart beat a little faster when he glanced up, catching you staring.

You shoved those thoughts aside, blaming the lingering caffeine and tiredness. “Hey,” Minho said softly, breaking the silence. “Do you want to go out tonight? Just a quiet dinner or something?” You blinked, surprised. “Tonight? Isn’t practice really intense right now?” He shrugged, eyes searching yours. “I want to spend time with you. Away from all the noise.” You smiled, feeling the warmth of that simple invitation spread through your chest. “I’d like that.”

Later, as the city lights flickered on and painted the streets gold, you both wandered through a quiet neighborhood, sharing stories and memories that weren’t usually part of your usual talks. It was easy, effortless, but underneath it all, you felt the weight of something unspoken. At one point, Minho paused, glancing down at his hands. “I’ve been thinking… about us.” Your breath caught. He looked up, cheeks flushed, the vulnerability in his eyes unmistakable. “I don’t want to mess up our friendship, but… I think I’m starting to see you differently.”

Your heart thudded painfully, a mixture of hope and fear flooding through you. “I think… I feel the same.” He smiled, a little nervous, but so genuine it made your chest ache. “So… what do we do now?” You reached out, your fingers brushing his, finding courage in the quiet strength of that touch. “We take it slow. No rush. Just… see where it goes.” He nodded, relief washing over his face. “I’m glad.”

For the first time, as you walked side by side under the stars, the line between best friend and something more felt blurred but beautiful. Neither of you said much, but the silence was full of promise. Because sometimes, the deepest feelings begin not with fireworks, but with the quiet courage to admit what’s already been there.

You kept walking side by side, the city’s hum a soft backdrop to the whirlwind inside your chest. Every time Minho’s hand brushed against yours, it sent a tiny jolt of electricity through your nerves, but neither of you pulled away. Instead, you let your fingers brush, barely touching, like a secret conversation spoken without words.

You found a quiet bench near a small park, where the autumn leaves had started to fall, crisp and golden. Minho sat down first, patting the spot beside him, inviting you to join. You hesitated only for a moment before sitting down, your shoulder almost brushing his. Neither of you spoke for a while. The silence was heavy but comfortable, like the pause between breaths.

“I’ve always admired you,” Minho finally said, voice low and sincere. “Not just because you’re smart or funny, but because you’re real. You never put on a mask for me. And I guess… I never realized how much that meant to me until now.” Your heart softened. You looked at him, really looked, at the way his eyes held a quiet vulnerability, the way his lips twitched in a shy smile. The boy you’d known as your closest friend was suddenly someone else, someone new and exciting and frightening all at once.

“I feel the same,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “You’re the person I come back to when everything else feels too much. Like… my safe place.” Minho turned toward you, the faint glow from a nearby streetlamp illuminating the soft curve of his face. For a moment, your breath hitched as he leaned in, his hand gently reaching to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was featherlight but sent a wave of warmth through you.

“I want to be that for you too. Not just as your friend, but something more.” Your cheeks flushed, and you swallowed hard, suddenly shy beneath his gaze. But then you smiled, an honest, open smile that said yes without words. “Me too,” you said, barely above a breath. He smiled, relieved and happy, but your heart pounded fiercely, like it was trying to break free.

Your eyes met his, and you saw the same mix of hope and uncertainty there. “This doesn’t change anything unless we want it to,” Minho said quietly. “We’re still us, no matter what.” You nodded, the weight in your chest lifting. “Exactly.” You spent the rest of the evening walking slowly, hand in hand, talking about everything and nothing—about dreams, fears, and what the future might hold. For the first time, the possibility of ‘us’ didn’t feel scary. It felt like coming home.

Minho nudged you gently with his shoulder, a teasing grin on his face. “So, are you going to make me jealous with all these deep confessions, or am I still your number one best friend?” You laughed, bumping him back playfully. “You’re definitely still number one, don’t get cocky.” He threw his arm around your shoulders as you walked side by side. “Good. Because I have a feeling you’ll always be stuck with me.” You shook your head with a smile. “I’m not complaining. You’re one of the best things in my life.”

“Right back at you.” Minho looked at you, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, remember that time I helped you study for that impossible exam and you totally aced it?” You groaned. “You mean the time you almost let me fail because you kept distracting me with ridiculous jokes?”

Minho laughed loudly. “Okay, okay, but you still passed. Thanks to me.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your grin. “Yeah, yeah. I guess your stupid jokes were helpful after all.” The two of you kept walking, talking about everything and nothing, your plans for the weekend, the latest funny moments from the dorm, silly idol gossip, and inside jokes that no one else would understand.

At one point, Minho pulled you into a sudden, tight side hug, and you leaned into him without hesitation. “Thanks for always being here,” you said softly. “Always,” he replied. “No matter what.” You paused, realizing how much you valued this friendship, the kind of friendship where you could be your true self without pretending, where silence was just as meaningful as words, and where the simplest moments felt special. “Promise me one thing?” Minho asked suddenly. “Anything.” “No matter where life takes us, no matter how busy we get, we don’t lose this. Us.” You smiled warmly and squeezed his hand. “Promise.” As you headed back to the dorm, the air was lighter, your steps in sync, best friends, partners in crime, and maybe something more someday, but for now, just perfectly content being exactly who you are together.

Back at the Minsung dorm, the energy shifted instantly. The place felt like home, cluttered with shared memories, music, and the unmistakable buzz of close-knit friendships. Minho flopped down on the couch with a dramatic sigh, tossing his phone aside. “Man, I swear you and Jisung have way too much chemistry. I’m just here observing.” You laughed, settling into the armchair across from him. “Chemistry? We’re just best friends. Nothing more.”

“Oh, come on. I see the way you two look at each other when you think no one’s watching.” You snorted, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous. Besides, Jisung is busy preparing for his comeback. I’m just the annoying friend who barges in with snacks and bad jokes.” Minho smiled and shook his head. “You’re more than that. You’re family.”

Just then, Jisung appeared in the doorway, hair messy from practice, a towel slung around his neck. He grinned when he saw you and Minho. “What are you two plotting?” “Nothing,” you said quickly, though Minho gave you a pointed look. Jisung raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Uh-huh. Right.” Minho stood up, stretching. “I was just telling Y/N how you two have some kind of secret language or something.”

Jisung laughed and walked over to sit next to you on the couch. “We do. It’s called years of friendship.” You nudged him playfully. “Yeah, and a lot of teasing.” Jisung grinned and gave you a quick, brotherly side hug. “Well, get ready. After this comeback, I’m dragging you to a dance practice. I want to see those moves you always brag about.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “You’re lucky I like you.” Minho laughed, grabbing a bag of chips from the table. “I swear, one day, you two are going to surprise me and admit you’re secretly dating.” “Keep dreaming, Minho,” you said, nudging him back. Jisung glanced at you with a playful smirk. “Maybe I should.” You caught his gaze, your heart skipping for just a moment before you shook it off. “Not happening.”

The evening slipped into easy chatter, discussing upcoming schedules, favorite songs, and ridiculous idol gossip. The way the three of you fit together felt effortless. At one point, Minho picked up the remote and switched the TV to a dance competition show. “Alright, Y/N, since you’re the pro dancer around here, teach me something.” You laughed and stood up, stretching. “Prepare to be embarrassed.”

Minho grinned, dropping down into a loose squat, ready to follow your lead. Jisung joined in, leaning against the wall with a smirk, clearly amused. As you demonstrated a tricky footwork move, Minho tripped over his own feet and fell backward, groaning dramatically. “Okay, okay, I surrender.” You helped him up, and Jisung laughed so hard he had to hold his stomach. “That’s my boy.” For a moment, the world outside the dorm melted away. There was just the three of you, best friends who could tease, challenge, support, and just be.

Later, as you curled up on the couch wearing Jisung’s oversized hoodie, Minho sat beside you, nudging your shoulder gently. “You look good in that hoodie.” You smiled shyly, pulling the hood over your head. “It’s comfy.” Jisung teased from across the room, “You stole my hoodie again, huh? That’s the third one this week.” You groaned, hiding your face in the fabric. “I’m cold.” Minho shook his head, smiling warmly. “You’re lucky you have us to keep you warm.” You glanced at both of them, grateful. “I know.”

~

The soft glow from the dorm’s living room lamp cast warm shadows as you and Minho settled onto the couch after dinner. You leaned back, your legs curled under you, and he stretched out beside you, the air between you charged but unspoken. Minho caught your gaze and gave a sly grin. “You know, you’ve been spending a lot of time here lately. Should I be worried you’re trying to steal my spot?” You smirked, nudging him playfully. “Oh, please. You’re the one who keeps making excuses to stay up late with me.”

He chuckled low, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Guilty as charged. But can you blame me? It’s rare to find someone who actually gets me.” You felt your cheeks warm as your fingers brushed against his arm. The contact was electric, a quiet current that neither of you rushed to break. Minho’s hand slid closer, his thumb tracing slow circles just above your wrist. “Do you ever think about what it’d be like… if this wasn’t just friendship?”

You swallowed, your heart beating faster. “All the time.” He leaned in, his breath warm near your ear. “Me too. But I’m scared it might change everything.” You turned your face just enough to catch his eye, lips curving into a teasing smile. “Maybe some things are better when they change.” His hand tightened slightly, bold but gentle. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” Your smile grew wider, matching his mischievous spark. “Only for you.”

The room seemed to shrink as the tension grew. You could almost feel the heat radiating from him, mixing with the nervous excitement coiling inside your chest. Suddenly, Minho’s fingers brushed your hair back from your face. “You’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” he murmured, voice low. You swallowed hard, breath hitching as his hand lingered a moment too long. “Minho…”

He smiled softly, lips just inches from yours. “We don’t have to decide anything now. Just… maybe let things happen naturally.” Your heart raced as you nodded, eyes fluttering closed for a second before opening to meet his. Minutes passed, the unspoken promise lingering in the air. Just friends, but maybe something more, something neither of you dared say out loud yet. Then, with a teasing grin, Minho pulled back and threw a pillow at you. “Okay, enough serious talk. Let’s see if you can keep up with me in a pillow fight.” You laughed breathlessly, the tension breaking, but the spark still glowing bright between you.

The pillow fight quickly turned into a full-on, laughter-filled battle. Feathers, or whatever stuffing was left, flew everywhere as you and Minho chased each other around the living room, dodging and weaving between couches and the coffee table. Your chest heaved with laughter, and Minho’s eyes sparkled with joy and something more, a hint of desire barely contained.

You tackled him lightly onto the couch, breathless from laughing and the chase. Minho caught you effortlessly, his hands resting on your waist. His gaze dropped to your lips, then back up to your eyes, like he was weighing some silent question.

For a moment, time froze. You could almost feel his heartbeat through his chest, felt your own thundering in your ears. Then, with a playful grin, he leaned back and whispered, “You’re lucky you’re so distracting.” You rolled your eyes, but your smile softened. “Distracting? You’re the one who can’t keep his hands to himself.” Minho shrugged with mock innocence, but there was a spark in his eyes that said otherwise. He traced lazy circles along your side, fingers light but deliberate.

“You make it hard to just be friends, you know.” You shifted closer, your shoulder brushing his. “Maybe we don’t have to be just friends all the time.” He smiled, that slow, knowing smile that sent shivers down your spine. “Careful what you wish for.”

The room felt warmer, smaller somehow, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. The world outside faded to nothing but you and him, the space between charged with promises neither dared say aloud yet. Then Minho leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “So… what’s stopping us?”

You bit your lip, heart racing. “Fear, probably.” “Or maybe,” he said, eyes locked on yours, “we just need to stop thinking so much.” You laughed softly, the tension breaking but not gone, lingering like the last notes of a song. Minho’s hand found yours again, squeezing gently. “One step at a time, yeah? For now, I’m happy just having you here.”

You nodded, squeezing back. “Me too.” And with that, you both settled back, the quiet comfort between you now layered with something sweet and new, the thrilling hint of something more waiting just beneath the surface.

~

The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the fan and the muted background noise of a drama playing on the TV, neither of you was really watching. You were curled up on one end of the couch in one of Minho’s oversized hoodies, bare legs tucked beneath you, a bowl of half-eaten tteokbokki resting between you two.

Minho sat next to you, legs stretched out, one arm lazily thrown over the back of the couch. The proximity wasn’t unusual, this was how it had always been. Close. Comfortable. Maybe a little too comfortable lately. You leaned over, pointing at the screen. “That’s totally you when you’re mad.” He scoffed. “I don’t pout like that.”

“You do,” you teased, nudging his thigh with your foot. “Especially when I steal your hoodie.” He smirked, but didn’t argue. Silence stretched, not awkward, but charged. The kind of quiet that says too much without words. You could feel the shift in the air. His gaze lingered longer than usual. Yours met it and stayed. “You’ve gotten... different,” he murmured after a while, his eyes scanning your face slowly.

“Different how?” you asked, heart suddenly thudding too loudly in your chest. He shrugged, but his fingers brushed yours as he reached for another rice cake. “I don’t know. Glowy. More confident. Kind of annoying.” “Wow. Thanks.” You rolled your eyes but smiled. You didn’t pull your hand away when your pinky hooked with his. Another pause.

“Do you miss home?” he asked softly, eyes still on the screen, but you knew he was watching you from the corner of his eye. You nodded. “Sometimes. But not when I’m here.” His eyes flicked to yours. “Why?” “Because you’re here,” you said, too fast, too honest. Then you panicked. “And, like... the food is better.”

He laughed, eyes crinkling. But then he shifted a little closer, and your knees brushed. Neither of you moved away. You turned toward him slightly, and he mirrored the motion. Close enough that you could see the faint scar on his jaw, the warmth in his gaze. His eyes dropped to your lips for a second before flicking back to your eyes. Your breath caught. The tension, long buried under jokes and casual touches, sparked and curled low in your stomach.

He leaned in slightly. His hand, warm and strong, settled on your waist, not possessive, just anchoring. “You think about this?” You nodded, barely. “Don’t you?” His forehead rested against yours, breath mingling with yours. The moment crackled with restrained emotion, years of friendship teetering on the edge. “I think about you all the time,” he confessed. Then his hand moved, slow and deliberate, sliding around your waist and tugging you gently into his lap. You didn’t resist. Your thighs settled on either side of him, the hem of the hoodie riding up, skin brushing his sweats.

Neither of you said anything. You were just… there. Breathing the same air. His hands on your hips, your hands gripping the sides of his hoodie. His eyes locked on yours. You shifted slightly, unintentionally, and his grip tightened. Your bodies aligned, the slow roll of tension more electric than any kiss. He exhaled shakily. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna lose my mind,” he murmured. You smiled, teasing. “Doing what?” He groaned softly, leaning forward until his lips hovered near your ear. “You really want me to show you?”

The air between you sizzled. But neither of you moved to close the distance completely. Not yet. This wasn’t the moment for that. But it was close. And you were both okay waiting a little longer, just to make sure when it happened, it meant everything. You shivered at his breath grazing your ear, the warmth sending a spark that spread all the way down your spine. Your heart hammered in your chest, loud enough that you were sure he could hear it too.

“Show me,” you whispered, your voice barely steady, teasing yet full of hope. He smiled, slow and knowing, his fingers tightening just a little around your waist. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, searching, asking silently if you really meant it. You nodded, biting your lip, cheeks flushing.

He shifted, moving his face slowly closer, his lips just inches from yours. You could feel the heat radiating between you. The world around you blurred, and the only thing that mattered was the space between your lips. But just as his lips were about to brush yours, he pulled back, eyes dark and filled with restraint. “Not yet,” he said, voice low and rough. “I want this to be right. I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Your breath hitched, emotions swirling. You knew what he meant. The friendship, the bond you’d built over the years, was fragile and precious. But there was something deeper now, something electric and undeniable. You reached up, cupping his cheek gently, thumb brushing over the faint stubble there. “I don’t want to lose what we have either. But I want to see where this could go too.” His hand left your waist to slide into your hair, fingers threading through the strands at the nape of your neck. His eyes searched yours again, softening.

“Then let’s take it slow,” he murmured. “One moment at a time.” You smiled, a slow, genuine smile that made his chest tighten. “I like that.” He leaned in again, this time slower, more deliberate. When his lips finally met yours, it was gentle—an exploration, a promise, a question all at once. Your body melted into his, the heat building with every second. His hands moved from your waist to your back, pulling you closer as if afraid you might slip away.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss, your pulse racing. When you finally pulled away, breathless, his forehead rested against yours. “You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, your voice a soft laugh. He grinned, and the tension broke, replaced by a warmth that settled comfortably between you. For now, the promise of more hung in the air. And you were ready to see where this path would lead, side by side.

After that first kiss, everything felt different but still the same. The easy comfort of your friendship remained, but now it was laced with an undercurrent of something more, a delicious tension that made every touch, every glance, feel electric. You both stayed like that for a while, foreheads touching, breathing slow and steady. Then he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his smile shy but full of warmth.

“Can I stay a little longer?” he asked quietly, as if the words were the hardest thing he’d said all day. Your heart skipped. “Yeah,” you breathed. “I want that.” He settled beside you on the couch, close enough that your legs brushed. You felt his hand slide to rest on your thigh, palm warm and steady. You looked down, feeling your cheeks flush. You didn’t pull away.

Instead, you let your fingers trace lazy circles on his arm, your eyes meeting his. Neither of you said anything, the silence between you was comfortable, filled with all the unspoken things you both wanted to say but weren’t quite ready for yet. Then, almost playfully, he shifted so his body pressed closer, his hips nudging yours. You felt the heat pooling low in your belly.

Lee Know’s hand moved slowly up your thigh, fingertips teasing just beneath the hem of your shorts. You swallowed hard, heart pounding in your ears. He caught your gaze again, and in that look was a mix of mischief and something softer, affection, maybe even a little nervousness. Without breaking eye contact, he started to grind just a little, slow and deliberate, testing the waters.

You bit your lip, warmth blooming all over. Your hands moved to his waist, steadying yourself but not pushing him away. His breath hitched as the movement grew bolder, and your body responded instinctively, matching his rhythm. For a moment, the world outside faded away, it was just you and him, close and connected, exploring the edges of something new and thrilling.

When he finally stopped, resting his forehead against yours again, both of you were breathless. “I don’t want to rush,” he whispered. “But damn, you drive me insane.” You laughed softly, heart pounding but happy. “Same here.” He brushed his nose against yours, a silent promise hanging between you. 

You stayed pressed together on the couch, the air thick with heat and unspoken desire. His hand slid from your thigh to trace slow, teasing circles higher up, barely hidden under the edge of your shorts. You swallowed hard, heart pounding like a drum in your chest. Lee Know’s eyes darkened as he watched your reaction, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin at the top of your thigh. “You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You bit your lip, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as he shifted closer, grinding his hips gently against yours. The friction was electric, sending warmth straight to your core. Your breaths came faster, breaths mingling in the small space between your faces. His hand moved deliberately, sliding under your shorts, fingers grazing over your bare skin with feather-light touches that made you shiver. You reached for his neck, pulling him in for a slow, deep kiss that tasted of everything you’d been holding back.

His tongue traced the seam of your lips, asking for entrance, and you eagerly parted for him. The kiss deepened, hungry and sweet, as his hand explored further, slipping lower between your thighs, finding the heat that was already wet and waiting. Your body responded instinctively, arching into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. His fingers moved with expert care, circling and pressing, making you gasp and tremble beneath him.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath ragged. “You feel so good,” he whispered, his voice thick with need. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” You smiled through the haze of pleasure, your hands threading through his hair as he kissed a trail down your jaw and neck. His lips left hot, lingering marks that made your skin burn.

The grinding between your bodies grew more urgent, hips rolling together in a slow, sensual rhythm that made you dizzy. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him impossibly close, your hearts beating in sync. “You’re mine,” he murmured against your skin, voice rough with desire. “Yes,” you breathed, needing him as much as he needed you.

Time slipped away as you lost yourselves in each other, every touch, every sigh, every whisper deepening the connection between best friends, becoming something more.

He pushed two fingers in, not caring about you, and started thrusting them in and out. You almost screamed but he curled his fingers right at your g-spot, like he knew your pussy, like he has done this a million time before, causing you to moan loud. "Fuck y/n-" as he curls them again and again and your fingers find their way into his hair. He never took his eyes off you, "Cum on my fingers, let me watch how you look when you go dumb with my fingers" that caused you to shatter under his fingers.

He never stopped his fingers. "Too much Minho," you whimpered, only then he pulled his hand out, licking both the fingers and moaning at the taste. When you finally came down from the waves of pleasure, Lee Know held you tight, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your skin as you both caught your breath.

“This is only the beginning,” he promised, lips brushing softly over your temple. You smiled, heart full and alive. “I’m not going anywhere.” You stayed curled in Lee Know’s arms, the warmth of his body grounding you as the aftershocks of pleasure settled. His fingertips traced slow, soothing lines along your spine, every touch sending little sparks that made your skin tingle all over again.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss just beneath your ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. “You’re breathtaking,” he whispered, voice husky with something raw and real. You blushed, heart hammering, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. The way he looked at you now, like you were the only person in the world, made your breath catch. It was more than friendship; it was a promise, a beginning neither of you dared to say out loud yet.

Lee Know’s hand slid down to your waist, fingers tightening just a bit as he slowly ground against you again, this time with more purpose. You gasped softly, hips instinctively rolling into his rhythm. His lips found yours once more, deeper and more demanding this time, hands exploring every inch of you, mapping out the places that made you shiver. You melted against him, every nerve alive with pleasure and longing.

The couch creaked beneath you, the world outside disappearing as you two lost yourselves in the moment, teasing, grinding, exploring, and discovering. His fingers slipped beneath your tank top, fingertips grazing over your bare skin, and you arched into him, breath hitching. He kissed down your neck, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver and sigh. “You’re incredible,” he murmured against your collarbone, his lips leaving a trail of fire.

You bit your lip, hands tangling in his hair again, pulling him closer, needing every bit of him. The way he moved against you, careful and confident, made you feel cherished and wanted all at once. When his hand slid lower again, brushing over your soaked core through your shorts, you shuddered, biting back a moan. His fingers stroked you gently, the friction driving you wild.

Lee Know’s eyes locked on yours, dark and intense. “Do you want more?” he asked softly, voice thick with need. You nodded, words failing you, lost in the way he made you feel, safe, desired, alive. He smiled, slow and teasing, before capturing your lips in another searing kiss. “Then let me show you.”

And with that, he deepened the connection, bodies pressed, breaths mingling, and hearts beating in time as your friendship melted into something far more delicious and profound. Lee Know’s lips pressed firmly against yours, slow and deliberate at first, like he was savoring every second of this new closeness between you. His hands found your waist, fingers tracing gentle lines under your shirt, pulling you just a little closer. Your breath hitched, a flutter of nerves and excitement pooling low in your belly.

You’d been best friends for so long, sharing laughs, late-night talks, and quiet comfort. But now, this, this was something new. His touch was both electrifying and safe, grounding you in a way no one else ever had. Your hands reached up, threading through his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. You felt his smile against your lips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing softly, exploring like he was learning every part of you. The warmth of his body against yours made your heart race, and the boundaries you’d always kept so firmly began to melt away.

Slowly, he shifted, lowering you down onto the couch where you’d spent countless hours just hanging out, watching TV, or sharing stories. But tonight, the couch was a different kind of stage, one where your friendship blurred into something far more intimate. Lee Know’s hands traveled down your sides, resting at the curve of your hips. You shivered as his fingers pressed gently against your skin, his touch so light it was almost teasing. Your body responded without hesitation, leaning into his warmth, needing more.

He whispered against your ear, his breath hot and enticing, “I’ve wanted this for so long.” Your cheeks flushed. “Me too,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. You let your hands roam over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. The weight of years of friendship wrapped in trust made every touch feel sacred, every movement slow and meaningful.

He took your shorts off, no permission needed. He knew you wanted this as much as him, if not more. "I can't do this anymore." You watched as he pulled his shorts down, revealing himself. His dick was huge, you gasp and he caught that. "Think you can take me?" he smirks at you, as he crawls over you, lining up next to your awaiting opening. "You're not the first cock I'm taking. I've seen bigger dicks" you tease. "Yeah? Bet no one knows how to make you come with just my fingers. Did you ever beg someone?"

"I don't beg." He raises one eyebrow. You are confused as to why he isn't moving, so you try to lift your hips, to show him that you want some sort of friction- anything. He pushes you down with one hand, forcefully. "Try that again babygirl and see what happens" which leaves your mouth hanging. "What do you want? Say it, bitch"

"I want you, in me, NOW." "Yeah? Ask nicely," you whine as he starts pulling away from you. "Please-" he smirks and stops his movements. "Was that hard now? Say that again," as he starts lining up again. "Please fuck me Minho, I need you, please."

Lee Know’s hips shifted, pressing against you hard, the friction sending a delicious heat spiraling through your body. You matched his rhythm instinctively, grinding gently against him as your bodies started moving together in perfect harmony. He slammed into your walls, like you were his toy to use.

"You're mine now, Gonna fuck you dumb. Gonna fill you up, slut" The feeling in you was both new and familiar, like rediscovering a favorite song with fresh ears. "Don't stop......please," He smirks at your begging. "You learn quick, keep begging like that, for my cock, yeah?" His hands slipped under your shirt, tracing the smooth skin of your ribs, sending shivers in their wake. Your fingers tightened in his hair as he deepened the kiss again, his tongue dancing with yours as desire bloomed into something undeniable. Between kisses, his voice was low and husky. “You’re mine now,” he murmured, fingers curling to cup your cheek. Your breath hitched as you smiled against him, “I’m yours.”

You felt him smile, his lips brushing yours once more before his hands traveled down to your thighs, fingers pressing firmly through your clit, sparking a fire that spread through you like wildfire. " Think about it, and I'll stop right here" he said when he felt your walls clenching. Grinding against him, your body tingling with sensation, every curve, every movement heightened by the closeness, the trust, and the warmth that had always been there but never this raw.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, breath catching, “So… we’re definitely not just best friends anymore.” Lee Know chuckled, eyes dark and full of affection. “No. Definitely not. But that’s the best part.” The air between you was thick with unspoken promises, of tenderness, of passion, of the kind of love that grew slowly and deeply, rooted in years of friendship and understanding.

He pulled out of you, and you whined at the loss of him in you. "Stop being a brat, you needy little slut. You'll get to come." He flipped you on your stomach and pulled you up on your knees, instantly slamming inside you. You couldn't hold it in anymore as you shattered without warning, yelling his name loud "Minho-" His hand lands on your ass, "You feel so good, gonna fill you up. You want that?" You moan hard as he thrusts one more time before releasing his hot strings of love into you, filling you up deep as you clenched, sucking every little drop inside you. 

After a while, when both your hearts are pounding, breaths mingling as you lie tangled together on the couch, Lee Know brushes a strand of hair from your face, his fingertips soft and gentle. “You feel like home,” he whispered. You smiled, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. “You’re my home too.” He tightened his arms around you, holding you close as the world outside faded away.

~

Days passed, each one deepening your connection. You shared stolen kisses in quiet moments, playful touches that sent shivers down your spine, and late-night talks that stretched into the early morning. The easy comfort of friendship remained, but it was now woven with the thrilling electricity of being something more.

One evening, as you curled up on the couch, his hand finding yours and holding it like a lifeline, he looked at you with a softness that made your heart swell. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, voice steady and sure. “I’m yours, if you want me.” You smiled through happy tears, squeezing his hand. “I want you. Always.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[curiouspupsicle]

Good Omens Fan Fiction Friday (5/30/25) - Characters with Disabilities

I love the way Good Omens is a great vehicle for telling varied stories. And fic writers have given us some amazing disabled characters. In fact, there are so many great stories, I'm setting some limits. First, I won't include the varied eye conditions ascribed to Crowley because they feature in a ton of fics. And they're often not major parts of the story. Second, I won't include fics where people are neurodivergent only. There's a nuanced debate happening about whether neurodivergency is a disability or not. It's certainly not something I feel qualified to opine on in a Tumblr post recommending fan fics. (Of course, how many disabilities would become less disabling if we simply provided reasonable accommodations for people, amirite?)

And third, I won't include psychological disabilities--severe depression, OCD, anxiety. They could probably comprise their own list as well.

So anyway, on to the fics!

Let's start with something fluffy and sweet - The War of the Pie Dish (G) by Sodium_Azide. Crowley moves into a new flat and finds a welcome gift in a blue pie plate on his front doorstep. He bakes his own treat to return with the pie dish which starts the war. And becomes the highlight of Crowley's week. Why is this included in the disability theme? Well, you'll have to read this one-shot to find out since Crowley doesn't actually meet his kind neighbor for ages.

I love how the writer had Crowley interested in his neighbor long before they met and his reaction to accommodating Aziraphale when his disability became apparent. It's lovely.

Another sweet bit o'fluff is Between Stations (T) by in_a_pickle. Aziraphale takes a part-time job as a passenger assistant at the train station. His assignment to help a disabled passenger board his train goes from bad to worse. Luckily, the passenger, Crowley, has a good sense of humor. One of my faves.

What We Make of It (Shotgun Wedding) (E) by @charlottemadison42 is a fandom classic in which Crowley is raising his nephew Adam when he finds himself attracted to Adam's teacher, Aziraphale. Unfortunately, Adam has several medical conditions that require regular care. And if Crowley and Aziraphale date, they will run afoul of HR rules, potentially risking Adam's much-needed health insurance. Yep, it's an American story. What else? But it's a classic for a reason and a great read.

In How My Light is Spent (E) by Azira_Amine, Aziraphale and Crowley experience near instant attraction when they meet at the coffee shop where Aziraphale works. Not so much a slow burn as a quick ignition. And fortunately, Crowley's guide dog, Bentley, approves as well.

Echoes of Luke 10:34 (T) by ChummyGeekery has Aziraphale understanding Crowley much better now that they've swapped bodies. Luckily, he's willing to help Crowley who has dealt with chronic pain over thousands of years.

On the Habits of Vampires and Retired Goths (T) by @munchmulch is the ultimate misunderstanding fic. Aziraphale moves in across the hall from Crowley thinking his sickly appearance is because he's a vampire. Actually, he's disabled. And the misunderstandings continue from there, making for a very funny fic.

Aziraphale notices Crowley is not himself in Out of Alignment (M) by @dragonfire42. Heaven and Hell come together to help resolve his issues. This fic offers great advice on supporting a partner through disability and recovery as well on self-management when in pain. Oh, and this story offers justice for Furfur. It's a fun take on our tiny demon.

This list is getting long. Do you need a break? A chance to stretch? A cuppa tea? Let's have a little Aziraphale break before we continue.

And we're back with...

A Smell Can't Be Ineffable (M) by @thinkinginscripts, Crowley loses his sense of taste and smell after a case of Covid. But bookseller Aziraphale has a method he hopes will help. It's sweet and beautifully descriptive.

In the Demon and Angel Professors series (G) by Ghostinthehouse Crowley and Aziraphale support several disabled students. They have a special understanding of the students' challenges because Crowley is disabled but keeps it a secret. Highly recommend this long series of short fics. It's a great read to keep open in your tabs whenever you have a quick minute to read a 666 word fic.

An Affair to Remember (T) by GoodInspirationAD, is inspired by the film of the same name. Crowley stops by the bookshop to explain why he stood Aziraphale up on their planned date at the Ritz. But he loses his nerve. Will the pair reunite? And will Aziraphale understand Crowley's reasons?

Do you read WIPs? If so, check out Ineffable Beauty (M) also by GoodInspirationsAD. The love this writer has for their characters really shines through. Crowley is a fashion model and Aziraphale is a writer. Both were seriously injured in car accidents. Crowley became a paraplegic and Aziraphale a quadriplegic. They fall in love and navigate their relationship with a little angst, but mostly mutual adoration.

This fic is really a fantasy--one where the pair never have to argue with the National Health or insurance company for the equipment they need, have meaningful work they love and are paid well for, and caregivers who treat them with respect and love. So yeah, total fantasy. But isn't that lovely sometimes? If you like a spicy read, check out Lay Thee Sinner, 'Neath the Cross and Pole (E) by ElysiumLeo (The_Nerd_Alert). Aziraphale is a Catholic priest whose fellow teacher, Gabriel, takes him to a strip club for his 50th birthday. There he meets pole dancer, Crowley. The two develop a friendship and Crowley offers to mentor the priest in sexual pleasure to help him decide if he wants to continue his life of celibacy in the priesthood. Crowley has a condition that resembles Ehlers-Danlos syndrome (can't remember if it was named in the fic) and we see him managing pain while doing a physically demanding job. Also a WIP. Mind the tags, people. Thanks to @thinkinginscripts and @fumblingbuffoon for inspiring this list and suggesting several inclusions.

Do you have a favorite fic featuring disabled characters I missed? Your recs are one of the best parts of doing this weekly feature. Reblog and share in the comments.

I'll be back next Friday with more great Good Omens fan fics on a new theme. In the meantime, check out my other favorite fics on this pinned post of weekly Good Omens fan fiction recommendations. And if my faves appear to be your faves, check out my bookmarks on AO3--all the fics I rate in my top 10% of everything I've read.

Don't forget to nurture the fan fic community. Share kudos and comments to show the many wonderful creators how much we appreciate them.

[johnwickb1tsch]

lessons in anatomy XII

a yandere art professor John Wick x drawing model muse! reader AU... (also featuring Matt from River's Edge. If you haven't seen the movie that's ok, I will fill in the gaps as we go...) warnings: dark adult themes, violence, sex, drugs, yandere shit. plz don't read if u can't handle it ->chapter map

XII.

You can't leave your apartment for weeks. 

It's not that you just don't want to, or you don't feel like it. You literally, physically, cannot make yourself go out. 

Scared is an understatement. The dread you feel for the outside world is like a syrupy poison that has filled your bones. 

You were fearless once, but that was before something bad happened to you. Turns out that maybe deep down you've been a coward all along. 

Matt called you again later, to tell you that Samson and Layne seemed to have gone missing. A part of you is afraid that they're still out there, waiting. But another part of you whispers that they've gone somewhere they can't return from. 

He asks if you want some company, but you turn him down. You don’t blame him for what happened, but you don’t think you can handle it just yet. 

You call in for several shifts at the bookstore, which is not going to help your net income at all. You have some savings, but you really shouldn’t dip into them for this. You wanted to use it on a cool trip, not an agoraphobic staycation. But life happens, and it seems like hiding under your blanket has become your thing. 

You have nightmares of Samson reaching for you, and Layne’s cruel smile. 

You also dream of him.

Your mysterious Lone Wolf in his elegant mask. 

In your dreams you have the sense to let him take you in his arms and not let go. You dream of running from some looming danger with your smaller hand in his. You dream of kissing him, and his claws upon your tender bare flesh in the shadows where it feels like you are alone together.   

Every time you wake up in a cold sweat, longing for something that can never be. Not only did you miss the opportunity to unravel his mystery because you were too much of a coward. Matt’s friends are still missing, and you’ve begun to think that whoever that man in the wolf mask had been…he may have exacted a vengeance on those two that could land him in a lot of trouble, if anyone found out. 

You have no proof of anything. Your memory of the night isn’t even reliable. Just when you think you can put your finger down on something…it slips away into shards of images and feelings and sounds, but nothing you can hold onto.  

At first you fill your time with a lot of staring at the wall in the dark.

Then, a creative wind hits you, and you sit at your desk manically painting and cutting and glueing tiny bits of paper into one of the vintage boxes you’d picked up at the thrift shop that day with John. You make a scene of a towering dark forest in deep purples and blues with fog rolling through the trees, and teeny tiny dolls of Little Red Riding Hood chased by a pack of wolves. And even though it might be terribly incriminating…you add a van on fire in the distance, flames licking out of every window. When you finish you feel slightly better about it all–or at least like you’ve gotten something off your chest. 

Maybe you don’t know what happened…but you lived. You shouldn’t feel guilty about that…right? 

You close up the little box and bury it deep in a drawer, a secret just for you. 

You also know that maybe you shouldn’t be keeping that wolf mask on such open display on your nightstand…but you can’t bring yourself to move it just yet. It makes you feel better, just having it there like a totem to ward off evil, as though if you should move it your attackers might come back for you.  

Your groceries dwindle, until you are down to nibbling on an old box of stale crackers you had leftover from a gettogether months ago. They are not good, but you don’t really taste them anyway. 

When your next modeling session comes up you know you have to go, for your own sanity as much as anything. Your appointments at the school are less frequent, but they pay better than any of your other gigs. 

You're not wild about the idea of taking your clothes off at the moment, but it's not the class Matt is in, and it’s not like Professor Wick pays any attention to you anymore anyway. You are just a body. Flesh to be transferred with marks on paper, with no special feeling. 

Once, there was a certain freedom in that, but for some reason now it just leaves you feeling hollow inside. 

TBC...

___

->chapter map pinterest board/ photo credits

[i-write-things-sometimes]

Better Off Alone (Part 1)

Context: mc's medical conditions are coming back to bite.

(everyone's disabilities are different and affect them differently. if you enjoy writing, i'd love to see your pieces writing about mc struggling with your experiences with your disabilities! with that in mind, this series of stories will reflect my own experiences with my disabilities.)

POV: this is written in gender-neutral 3rd person (they/them). i'm not sure if i want to keep the pov like this, or if people would prefer 2nd person (you/your). also, is g/n the preferred 3rd person choice? looking for serious opinions regarding this ;u;

Content Warnings: because this talks about about disabilities, this does cover a lot of themes centered around physical health. so anything from pain descriptors to passive suicidal ideation, and everything in between.

Other Notes: this mc uses a cane as a mobility aid, but is not a strict necessity. this mc is more medically inclined than most! i've found medical stuff to be deeply fascinating learning more and more about my disabilities. would've gotten this done sooner if i wasn't waffling back and forth so much on how i wanted to present the idea - originally wanted to make it a 'mc x jiro' drabble, but then instead was hit with the brilliant idea of "okay but what if you make it hurt a lot, like A LOT". so now this is a multipart story instead of a single piece :)c

tad bit over 2k word count, tagging @im-no-mechanic-but by request (╹ڡ╹ )

EDIT: OMFG Y'ALL I'M SO SORRY. this story takes place in between chapters 6 and 7, so there's tiny bits of spoilers regarding the previous chapters ;n; I forgot to mention that

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

Their body screamed, it ached and cried and begged. If there were any benevolent gods out there, surely they would have offered them some form of salvation from the pain. And yet it suffocated their movements, their thoughts, and every time those words - the desperate sobs for relief, groveling for even a little bit of a break - hit the back of their throat they swallowed them down with the pill of knowledge. Knowledge that if they said anything, it'd be used against them.

It always was.

Every.

Little.

Flaw.

Was used against them. They were certain that if they weren't so focused on how much they hurt, they could keep up with it all. That this wouldn't be a terrible place to be. That every jab would roll off of their back like water instead of clinging to it like grease, leaving the disgusting residue of loathing. Even if kindness came to scrub their back of it, they're certain it's stained after this long.

It was like this before they came to Darkwick too. They weren't certain if they'd ever escape the feeling. The bog of every criticism and comment dragging their legs down - as if they didn't have enough problems with them already. They did replace their old cane with a newer one, not that it did any good. It felt like every new mission, they were forced to get a new cane.

They lost the first after being knocked unconscious by the anomalies at the Long Legs Estate.

Second, when Takeru nearly dragged them over the balcony.

Third, when they were pulled underwater by Towa.

The fourth was lost in the wreckage of the casino.

Thankfully, Hotorubi's mission kept the fifth from harm - the same could not be said of Obscuary's. Not only were they forced to leave it behind to catch up to Lyca before nightfall, it was lost to the void after they were swallowed whole.

They were already dreading having to track down Professor Nickolas for a sixth. It didn't matter, regardless, did it? No one could comprehend having good or bad days, and now 80% of the school believes they're faking the need for it after being able to walk some without one. Until they manage the will to track Nickolas down, however....

"I expect you to be here in five minutes or less if I call you!"

Being scolded. By Romeo. Again. At least he didn't degrade them this time.

"Sorry..."

"Don't apologize unless you plan to start meeting those expectations UBB!"

Nevermind.

"...that's a new one." They sighed, only letting out a breathy laugh in spite of themself. "I'm going to assume the name didn't actually change, and you're just adding "useless" to the front of it."

Their response had whatever papers they needed to take to Hyde nearly thrown at them.

"Right. I'll take that as my cue to leave."

It was always best to leave as soon as possible whenever Sinostra was involved. If it wasn't Romeo's scathing remarks, it was Taiga's chaos or Ritsu's lectures. The house was more exhausting and taxing than any of the others (even if Frostheim had way too many stairs).

They left as quickly as they could. The moment they managed to leave the casino, they looked down at the papers - while there were only a few, they felt like a textbook in their arms. The weight of the day was making their knees buckle.

I'll take these to Hyde tomorrow. I need to rest.

The thoughts of returning to their room powered their feet to move forward. Not only did it hurt to walk, it was getting more and more difficult. It was slow going and their room was so far away. So. So far away. When their eyes turned up from the paper, there was another familiar face walking their way--

But that's all they comprehended before they were suddenly staring at the ceiling of - based on the smell alone - a doctor's office. If that space of nothing in that time was what death felt like, it was starting to sound like a pleasant experience. They kept quiet. All of their thoughts were both loud and silent. There was everything and nothing in them. In the end, they inhaled sharply and exhaled a knifepoint sigh. Without moving their head, they looked to the side where a tall figure was taking their vitals.

They were familiar with both Jiro and Yuri as the ones who took care of their health checkups, but they had yet to have been to Mortkranken. They always came to them. Not that they expected to be anything more than some science experiment. Constantly prodded. Tested. They idly wondered just how painful the clinical trials of their drugs would be. When they finally registered that they had been staring at Jiro like a dead fish, they mustered a weak smile.

"Dare I ask how I got here?"

"Syncope episode."

"I... see."

The way the words pulled past their teeth much like hair did made him clarify.

"You fainted."

"Oh... I know what it means." They huffed out a small laugh. "Sorry. I was trying to think of why as I was speaking."

"...I'd rather not be kept in the dark if there's a reason. I just... want to know."

Despite the evenness in his expression - what others would describe as "emotionless" - they could swear they saw some level of regret in his eyes. Like he knew the answer and refused to speak it. He closed them as a sigh left his nose.

"Yuri should go over it with you."

"..." Their silence and stare didn't phase him, but something about this time seemed different. Something about this time was very different, actually. He sat down slowly on a nearby stool.

"He went to check if the labs we conducted were correct."

His choice of words hit their ears in a strange way. They sang like some odd combination of peace and a hurtling cannon ball directed at their gut. The answer to all of their questions was a paper away and it was so severe, that a man who could never admit that he was wrong left of his own accord to check if it was. They couldn't help but ask.

"How many times has he?"

"This is his third time."

"Triple-checking the results of a lab test, uhm. That's a little excessive, isn't it?"

"Yes."

His short answer which led nowhere made them laugh softly, though that caused a sharp pain to stab them in the middle of their chest. They clawed at the space between their ribs, a vain attempt to soothe the pain. They breathed slowly, sucking each painful breath through their teeth, closing their eyes and following all the steps in their head to cope with whatever that new symptom was before opening them again. The first thing they noticed was the most amusing thing - Jiro was on his feet again. Going between checking their vitals and his phone, which started blowing up in succession afterwards. That's when the questions started.

"What does it feel like?"

"Like it could be solved by being stabbed with an ice pick."

"I wouldn't recommend treating pain with an ice pick. So, sharp, then. One to ten?"

"I've had migraines worse than this."

They made a small game of the questions they'd been asked more times than there were stars in the sky. They wanted to see if he could decipher their answers, to see if they could make him ask for clarification. Unfortunately, their fun was ruined, because he was surprisingly good at his job.

"An eight, then. Have you had this specific pain before?"

"Yeah."

He placed his hand against his chin in thought, then sent another message to - whom they could only presume to be - Yuri. Another came back quickly.

"What makes it worse?"

"Living."

The response caught him off guard and they could swear they heard a stifled laugh.

"Breathing and moving. Okay. What makes it better?"

"I don't think anything does. It just goes away on it's own eventually."

"Could be costochondritis if it's reoccurring."

With their game deftly beaten by a swift potential diagnosis, they began to realize that Yuri triple-checking their lab results filled them with excitement fueled anxiety. No sooner did the realization set in did the door open slowly. They didn't move their head to look, not even their eyes. Yet again, did all of the pieces seem to fall into place differently - it could've been paranoia, but Yuri most definitely never opened the door in melancholic meticulosity as it had just now. Which meant one of two things:

1). That wasn't Yuri.

2). That was Yuri and this was hitting him harder than it was them for some reason.

"Jiro, come out here."

"Okay."

Just like that, Jiro stood up to leave the room through door number two. All they could hear was the muffled ravings of a passionate doctor. Vaguely, they could hear the phrase: "what do they gain by not saying anything". Straining their ears to hear more of the conversation only made their head hurt, so they simply waited until the door opened again. Before Yuri could announce himself with the typical bravado he usually does, they beat him to the punch.

"What's got you so wound up that you had to check if the results were right three times?"

"J- Jiro! What did you tell them?!"

"The answers to their questions."

The lack of substance to his response left little room for scrutiny, making Yuri sputter for a moment before he cleared his throat.

They knew the words that would leave his mouth would be loud, demeaning (while less harsh than Romeo, was still somewhat grating after everything). They spoke just as he had opened his mouth.

"Can you talk to me like a doctor would a patient? And not like I'm about to be spliced open? Just. Whatever you found, please. I'm tired, everything hurts, and I'd like to not have to lay on this bed any longer."

"......."

The silence was new from him. Usually he was all words. They waited patiently. He whispered something under his breath, gave the papers to Jiro, and left after that.

"...Guess that was too hard for him."

After some longer silence as Jiro skimmed the test results, a single thoughtful "hm" was the noise he made.

"This is evidence that Darkwick knows what conditions you're working with and are choosing to neglect treating them, not to mention neglecting to give you your own medical history."

"...what?" They already had a feeling about it, but still couldn't help the soft exclamation of disbelief.

"To summarize, you have multiple diagnoses with overlapping symptoms. First, the syncope episode. Postural Orthostatic--"

"--Tachycardia Syndrome. POTS, yeah."

"Yuri wrote about wanting a full panel genetics test, as well as a full body MRI when there's time. Do you experience neuropathy?"

"Mhm. In my hands and forearms, feet, and lower jaw."

"While Yuri still wants the results of an EEG, we can make the assumption with these results that you have small fiber neuropathy caused by either EDS or an autoimmune disorder - we'd need skin biopsies from several areas of the body to determine the root cause."

Their mouth hung open a little. As much as they wanted to be angry about it being kept from them initially. How could they be now? All of those answers, they were there. They may have already been slightly closer to the Mortkranken ghouls than the others because of the health complications they had originally when they arrived, but it still confused them.

"Why is Yuri so upset about this? I'd think he'd be happy to find out."

"Happy to find out... you have multiple incurable diseases and disorders?"

"Ah. It's the "incurable" part, isn't it? But it's not like they're life threatening, like my curse is."

"....There is a lot incorrect about that sentence, it makes it difficult to prioritize which response I should give. The best treatment for your current symptoms is rest. We can prescribe some medication for your pain, then check on you tomorrow morning. For now, I'll take you home."

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - Molding Cuteness Date- English Translation [2/2]

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Lovepro X Nobi Rabbit Event | Molding Cuteness Date Part 1 | Date Part 2 (You're here!) | Prologue + Day 1 | Day 2-4 | Day 5-7

"Is it just the way I feel that’s good? I still want to hear you affirm my cuteness a little more."

My heartbeat is stirred by his words and tender gaze. Without a second thought, I lean in and kiss him.

"Everything about Lucien is incredibly cute."

Translation under the cut!

Previous Part=> [Click Here]

—[Part 3]—

Just as I’m still basking in the lingering thrill of his adorable assault, Lucien’s phone begins to ring.

Seeing that it's a call from property management, I pout my lips, can't help but nuzzle once more against Lucien’s fluffy hair, and only then do I longingly send him out the door.

Taking advantage of the moment while Lucien deals with property management, I quietly move closer to Nobi and ask in a whisper.

MC: Nobi, do you have mind-reading powers? How do you know that I... am so susceptible to Lucien's tricks?

Nobi: Hm? Didn’t you tell me all that yourself?

Nobi hops onto my lap, her big eyes behind the lenses blinking at me.

Nobi: You said the person you like most is Professor Xu, and that you have endless things to say to him every single day.

Nobi: Although others see him as a serious and proper genius professor, you think the more a man is like that, the more suitable he is for...

MC: [panicked] Aaaah! STOP! Stop! I get it! Don’t go on!

I didn’t expect that the real-life Nobi would actually remember everything from her time as a desktop pet!

The moment I remember whispering all those unfiltered secrets to the little desktop pet, my face burns hot in an instant.

I quickly change the subject to stop her from rambling on.

MC: Th-then how did you make Lucien willing to do this?

Nobi: Hahaha, it’s a secret spell I whispered to him.

Nobi smugly shakes her ears and shoots me a triumphant glance.

Nobi: Anyway, today he’s definitely going to fulfill all your demands.

All of my demands.

Those four words brush across the bottom of my heart like tiny feathers, leaving a faint, ticklish sensation.

Just as I'm about to ask something else, the door suddenly opens, and Lucien shuffles in, holding a delivery box in his arms.

A little surprised, I hurry over to lend him a hand.

MC: So fast? Is the pipe already fixed?

He shakes his head and lets out a troubled sigh.

Lucien: The repairs can't be done today. The maintenance worker said it's a bit complicated and will probably need to inspect it together with the unit upstairs tomorrow.

Lucien: Oh, and this is the package that was at your door.

I freeze for a moment before I can fully process the meaning behind those two sentences.

MC: So... you're staying at my place today?

Lucien: Can't I?

I'm just about to nod along with what he says when Nobi's words just now sweep through my mind again, and my gaze involuntarily drifts to the delivery box in his hands.

Of course, I know what's inside the delivery box. If all these things could appear on Lucien...

I blink, and then a huge smile spreads across my face.

MC: Of course you can! But you need to be good and do as I say, abide by the principle 'guest adapts to host’s arrangements'.

I take the delivery box from his hands and tear it open, then pull out a set of soft, plush pajamas with adorable bunny ears... Nobi Rabbit-themed sleepwear!

Wiggling the pajamas at Lucien, I smile at him with eyes curved like crescent moons.

MC: If you’re staying at my home, then you’ve got to wear the pajamas from my place~

Lucien casts a glance at that fluffy set and smiles faintly.

 Lucien: Whatever your arrangements, I am at your command.

It’s not often that the weather is this sunny and clear, so I pull Lucien along, bring out the lounge chair and tea table, and get ready to comfortably enjoy a 'stay-at-home sunbath'.

I enthusiastically lay out the cushions and arrange the drinks and snacks, but then discover there’s still a pillow missing from the rattan chair.

MC: Ah, I almost forgot!

I rise to my feet, clap my hands, then turn with a smile to tell Lucien and Nobi, "Wait here for a bit!"—before briskly darting back to the bedroom to fetch the pillow.

✂———————–

MC: Anyway, there's still one day off tomorrow. How about taking Nobi out for some fun with Lucien?

MC: Where to go though... that newly opened ball pit park sounds like a good idea...

As I mull it over, I pick up the pillow and walk out of the bedroom.

A richly scented summer breeze flutters through the balcony curtains, and the first thing that meets my eyes is a pair of fluffy, gently swaying—

—bunny ears.

Lucien wears the bunny pajamas, surrounded by a circle of Nobi merchandise and greenery, even the air is infused with a noisy warmth.

Yet amid all the blooming abundance, the rowdiest of all is still Nobi Rabbit, spinning noisily around Lucien.

Everything under the sunshine softens my heart. I lighten my footsteps, quietly pulling out my phone to capture this scene.

Nobi: So then, why do you think this is the cutest thing about MC?

...Are they talking about me? I instantly perk up my ears as I try to eavesdrop on Lucien’s answer.

With his back to me in the camera frame, Lucien lets out a deliberately profound "Hmm."

Lucien: For that, I should likely begin with the activity levels of dopamine neurons in the medial prefrontal cortex.

Lucien: When I make eye contact or talk with her, there are significant fluctuations in the secretion of oxytocin and serotonin.

Lucien: This kind of neurochemical reaction forms memories through the hippocampus, gradually establishing a conditioned reflex in my subconscious where "MC = cute"....

Nobi: Ack!

Nobi lets out a cry and clutches her head as if she's dizzy, plopping down onto the pillow with a wobbly flop.

Nobi: You're truly way too un-cute!

MC: Pffft-HAHAHA!

Unable to hold back, I finally burst out laughing. Lucien turns his head at the sound.

The bunny ears tremble in the breeze, and the soft, plush material makes him look several times softer and gentler than usual.

Beneath the purple bow, his long, narrow eyes brim with helplessness, yet the smile at the corner of his lips is full of sly mischief.

Hmph, he doesn’t look like a bunny at all. He’s clearly a little fox in bunny’s clothing.

I can’t help but reach out and pinch his 'bunny ears'.

Lucien doesn’t dodge my 'troublemaking'. Instead, he squints his eyes, leans in, and nuzzles against my palm.

Lucien: What should I do, Teacher MC? I’ve been called un-cute again.

MC: Well then, Little Student Lulu needs to study hard and follow Nobi’s and my guidance

Lucien: Little Student Lulu? [chuckles] Is that nickname also part of becoming cute?

MC: That's right, and also...

I excitedly take out one little accessory after another from the delivery box and clip them onto Lucien’s hair.

While I’m at it, I open my phone's camera and select the most over-the-top, cutesy filter.

Seeing Lucien turn into a 'big-eyed moe boy' on screen, a wave of mischievous pride wells up in my heart.

MC: Mmhmm, this Little Student Lulu is definitely cute!

Lucien: [with helpless expression] …..

Lucien reaches up to touch the newly added pink hair accessory on his head, then raises an eyebrow in understanding.

Lucien: I see. I’ve learned it now.

Lucien: As a good student, I'll naturally follow the teacher's guidance. But as a good teacher, shouldn't MC also lead by example?

MC: Lead by example how?

Lucien: For example...

Lucien leans in and sweeps me into his arms in one smooth, irresistible motion.

The delicate fragrance of gardenias still lingers in his sleeves. A scent that belongs to Lucien alone.

Then he takes my phone with one hand, and with the other, he plucks the spare hair accessories from my grasp, mimicking me as he clips them into my hair.

Looking at the two of us on screen, wearing the same hair clips and surrounded by pink bubbles and flowers, it feels as if bubbles and blossoms are rising and blooming in my heart too.

Lucien’s satisfied chuckle sounds softly by my ear.

Lucien: So next, how should I face the camera in a 'cute' way? Little Teacher MC, can you teach me?

✂———————–

—[Part 4]—

With Nobi’s guidance, we not only play lots of fun little games but also boldly try filming all sorts of childish little videos.

Just as Nobi promised at the beginning, Lucien always indulges and goes along with my antics.

As night gradually descends, Nobi suddenly jumps onto the center of the coffee table and solemnly adjusts her round glasses.

Nobi: Alright, my dear students, I’m leaving now.

MC: So sudden? I was hoping to go to the ball pit park with you tomorrow!

Hearing my plea to stay, Nobi’s figure wavers slightly, her expression clearly falters, but she quickly pretends to be serious and shakes her ears.

Nobi: It’s no surprise you can’t bear to see me go. After all, I’m everyone's favorite little bunny!

Nobi: But as the universe’s cutest Nobi Rabbit, I must keep helping more people become even more adorable!

After saying that, Nobi immediately pounces into my arms, affectionately rubbing against my cheek. She then hops onto Lucien's shoulder, cups his cheek, and rubs against it too.

Lucien and I look at each other and smile, then tacitly reach out to gently rub her fluffy cheeks.

MC: Thank youuu, Teacher Nobi~

Lucien: I will also remember your teachings. I promise I’ll continue becoming cuter from now on.

After a round of ‘cuddly’ goodbyes, Nobi finally darts over to the windowsill and waves her tiny paw at us.

Nobi: Bye-bye the cutest couple in Loveland City second only to me!

Only after watching Nobi disappear into the night do I reluctantly withdraw my gaze and turn to look at the room filled with Nobi merchandise.

MC: It’s getting late. Shall we tidy up the balcony together?

Lucien says "Mm" in response. He picks up the pillow from the lounge chair and suddenly speaks.

Lucien: Have you told Nobi a lot about me?

MC: Huh? How did you know?

Lucien: From what I observed today, there was a certain tacit understanding between you and her in your 'guidance' toward me.

MC: ….!

My face turns red all at once, and I stammer as I wave my hand.

MC: [blushes embarrassedly] Uh, I just chatted with her about some girl talk, that’s all.

Lucien props his chin on a pillow, a faintly mischievous tone lacing his voice.

Lucien: [with ‘sad’ sigh] So you have told her a lot of secrets about me. Sigh... Looks like I’m no longer your first choice for sharing secrets.

MC: That's not true at all!

I hastily deny it, yet have no idea how to explain.

MC: It’s just… uh…

MC: Sometimes people fantasize about things that are unlikely to happen. But normally, who would have the nerve to actually ask the other person to do such things?

MC: I’m just casually chatting with Nobi…

Lucien takes a step forward, drawing out his ending tone as the smile at the corners of his mouth deepens.

Lucien: So today, you had me wear a bunny onesie, act cute to you, play childish games, and film adorable videos...

Lucien: Were all these lessons your 'fantasies coming true', MC?

As he lists off today's antics one by one, my face grows even hotter, nearly overwhelmed with guilt for my unrestrained indulgence.

Lucien gently pinches my flushed cheek.

Lucien: Silly, there's no need to feel embarrassed. I genuinely like this feeling of 'psychological regression' today.

MC: Psychological regression?

Lucien: When someone is in a highly trusting and secure relationship, the brain subconsciously chooses to return to a relatively simpler and more relaxed state.

Lucien: It’s similar to the carefree feeling during childhood.

Lucien: Sometimes, being in a state of regression actually helps us express our needs and authentic inner thoughts more clearly.

I blink and take the pillow Lucien hands to me.

MC: So… do you also have moments when you really want to see that side of the other person, but feel too embarrassed to say it because it seems childish?

Lucien pauses at my words, as if he earnestly thinks it over for a moment before smiling and nodding.

Lucien: You mean willful thoughts like yours? Yeah, I do have those.

MC: Eh? Like what?

Lucien smiles without answering and simply reaches out to gently take hold of my wrist.

In the next second, the world spins before my eyes, and the ground beneath me suddenly softens—

Swirling colorful lights fill my vision as my whole body unexpectedly sinks into an ocean of pillowy soft balls!

I look up in surprise at Lucien, who’s fallen into the ball pit alongside me, and he gives me an innocent smile.

Lucien: When I heard those childish requests of yours, I was indeed a bit surprised.

MC: Are you surprised at my childishness?

Lucien: No. Surprised that I hadn’t done enough, that I should’ve enabled my little lady to 'regress' by my side without holding anything back… much, much earlier.

He shifts his posture slightly, letting himself sink even deeper into the soft sea of plastic orbs.

Colorful spheres tumble around us with a soft rumble as his gaze settles tenderly on my face.

Lucien: [softly] Letting myself be childish with you to our hearts' content like this... I really like it.

His voice whispers softly in my ear. It becomes the warmest comfort, filling my heart with a feather-light happiness.

MC: So, what exactly did Nobi teach you that made you so willing to grant my every wish today?

Lucien: Actually, it's only two words.

I blink, looking at him in confusion, while Lucien nods seriously and pulls my hand onto his soft, fluffy hair.

Lucien: Tactile feel.

MC: Tactile feel?

His voice is soft, like a light feather falling into my heart.

Lucien: Nobi says that as long as you let your hand touch something soft, your heart will grow just as soft, too.

His hair is delicate, soft, and fluffy. The warm sensation travels through my palm, and just like he said, my heart softly melts all at once.

MC: I do admit, Professor Xu feels especially good to the touch today.

Lucien: Is it just the way I feel that’s good?

Lucien: I still want to hear you affirm my cuteness a little more.

My heartbeat is stirred by his words and tender gaze. Without a second thought, I lean in and kiss him.

MC: Everything about Lucien is incredibly cute

In his embrace, my eyes crinkle into a smile. My fingers twirl strands of his hair round and round, and my heart, too, grows soft like a floating bubble.

MC: By the way, what about me?

MC: What do you think is the cutest thing about me? You’re not allowed to fool me with scientific reasoning like you did with Nobi earlier!

MC: [smiles softly] You have to say it one by one. Be specific.

Lucien is slightly taken aback upon hearing this, then gives a helpless smile. His hands tenderly cradle my cheeks, his warm fingertips slowly tracing along my features.

His fingers glide over the space between my brows, then gently rub my earlobe.

Lucien: [in the most tender tone possible] If… I had to choose the cutest part of you, then it would probably be your brows and eyes, your cheeks, the tip of your nose...

His voice flows as softly as the night. With every word he speaks, a gentle yet solemn kiss falls upon my face.

Moved by his earnest, tenderly lingering gesture, I can’t help but wrap my arms around his neck.

MC: Oh~ Then which one is the cutest of all?

Lucien: It's here.

He pulls back slightly, gazing at me with a tender and wholly focused gaze.

Lucien: The cutest of all… is your eyes that are forever overflowing with love.

-FIN-

[Moment - Poor Student]

Lucien’s post: First time discovering that I’m a poor student in certain aspects, wuwu (;へ：)

MC: Unexpectedly using the “wuwu + kaomoji” combo like this. Little Student Lulu is making rapid progress in the skill of cuteness!

Lucien replied to MC: If Teacher MC praises me more, I’ll learn even faster.

-

Lucien’s post: First time discovering that I’m a poor student in certain aspects, wuwu (;へ：)

MC: Don’t cry cry~ Let me pat your head.

Lucien replied to MC: Just a headpat? Alas.

-

Lucien’s post: First time discovering that I’m a poor student in certain aspects, wuwu (;へ：)

MC: As expected, letting Professor Xu do these childish challenges is just too much……

Lucien replied to MC: So, Classmate MC, could you demonstrate it for me two more times? ^^

[Phone Call-Couple Desktop Pets]

You can hear the phone call at the end of the date recording on YouTube!!! And I suggest hearing it because the whole call is so sweet 🥰~

Lucien: It’s rare for you to call me right while you're at work. Is there something up?

MC: Ahem, Lucien, are you free to help me record a few lines right now?

Lucien: Hm? I guess I'm free... Is this for your new show production?

MC: No, it's not that. Nobi has just released a limited-edition Children's Day desktop pet.

MC: Not only can you customize desktop pets with couple avatars, but you can also record voice lines!

Lucien: [chuckles] I see. So, what kind of lines would you like me to record?

MC: Just some simple ones like "Hello~", "Goodbye", or "Do your best today too" and such.

MC: That way, I’ll have a mini Lucien watching over me while I work~

Lucien: [laughs softly] So that’s what Miss Producer was planning all along.

MC: Hehe, so… would you be willing to play along?

Lucien: Of course I’m willing. But since it’s a couple-edition desktop pet… shouldn’t I have a "Mini Producer" on my desktop as well?

MC: Eh? You want to keep a mini version of me too?

Lucien: Can't I?

MC: I mean, you can...... but how are you planning to design my desktop pet avatar?

Lucien: For example, endlessly curious, enjoys experiencing all kinds of life’s little joys, and always brings me small, delightful surprises...

Lucien: And when she eats something delicious, she gives a silly little smile, and when she’s asleep, she instinctively burrows into my chest...

MC: W-wait a second. Lucien, isn’t your impression of me a little too specific?

Lucien: [chuckles] Is it? I haven’t even mentioned the more specific and cuter details yet.

MC: Ahem... Okay, let’s not talk about that for now. So, do you have any lines you'd like me to record for your desktop pet?

Lucien: I only need you to record one sentence.

MC: Which sentence?

Lucien: Just the simplest words—meant just for me—

Lucien: [as natural as breathing] "Love you."

[thegoodwitchsworld]

PART 1

Part 2

Academic rivals Y/N x steve rogers where you cant help but raise your hand in class like Hermione everytime teacher asks a question, and Steve and his friends mock you for being a nerd.

But then he corners you outside class, your wrist twisted behind your back as he presses you against the wall angrily- "You think you're so smart love? Alright let's see who tops the exams"

"What's this guy's problem even?" You mutter angrily to yourself, wondering how spilling a coffee on someone on the first day of class could make you arch enemies forever

because that's how you met each other

you were rushing to class and the coffee in your hand spilled on his brand new white canvas shoes, making him yell at you angrily

You offered to pay for them to get cleaned of course, but he was far too mad to listen

"Oh you will pay for them huh? They cost more than your dad's annual income, sweetheart," he had sneered in your face as his friends laughed behind him.

That was when you decided you hated the rich asshole.

"My god, so costly? And yet you still look like trash," you fake pouted before emptying the rest of the coffee over his head.

All chances of redemption were lost after that.

So you spar inside class, trying to out-debate each other every time while your professors shake their heads and ask you both to leave.

And in exams it is always a race to get to see who finishes first, and then who scores higher.

And everytime Steve tops, he hires the school band to follow you around for the rest of the day chanting "Steve is our king" on top of their voices.

And when you score the highest instead, you hire the school’s drama club to follow him around dramatically reciting ‘Ode to the Fallen Scholar’ every time he enters a room.

He gets on your every last nerve, so you make sure to get on his.

So when you're standing on the sidewalk because it suddenly decided to rain and he stops his car next to you, you sigh because you're too wet and cold to get into a sparring match right now.

His window rolls down, and he doesn't even bother to look at you, that arrogant bastard.

"Whoa loser, I didn't know you enjoyed rain this much", he deadpans.

"Fuck off Steve, you're blocking the view," you roll your eyes.

He's quiet for a second before he speaks again.

"Get in".

"What?"

"You heard me. Get in fast. I will not wait all day."

So you silently get inside, fastening the seat belt as he watches you.

"Try not to get the carpet too dirty," he quips as he starts driving.

you roll your eyes again.

"Yeah yeah, i know it costs more than my dad's annual salary."

he looks over at you, an amused smirk on his face. "Glad you caught on, loser".

You flip him off.

The car ride is quiet. You almost fall asleep by the time he reaches your flat downtown.

"Get out," he says gruffly, but his palm is gentle as he shakes your shoulder.

You wake up with a start, then slowly and groggily get out of the car. You bite your cheek as you're about to close the door.

"What?" He looks at you questioningly.

"Would you- would you like to come in for coffee or something...?" You ask hesitantly, bracing yourself for another rude joke.

He raises an eyebrow. "That your way of saying thanks?"

You shrug, smiling a little.

"Thanks?"

He shrugs back. "Okay. Let's see how much you suck at making coffee."

You laugh. "I'm definitely better than your butler."

He follows you to the front door, and when you fumble for keys in your purse he again sighs dramatically.

"I don't have all day, you know?"

You flash him your angry eyes. "You are under no compulsion to stay, I assure you."

But he doesn't leave.

You take off your coat and hang it on the rack, him following suit,

Having your arch-enemy inside your tiny flat wasn't on your bucket list, but here we are.

He looks completely out of place, his dark brooding personality a stark contrast against your pastels and flower-themed wallpaper.

He follows you around like a lost puppy as you take off your boots, then your sweater, and when you head to the bedroom and he is about to come in there too, you raise an eyebrow at him before he backs out muttering a half-hearted sorry.

When you head to the kitchen in your newly changed white fluffy tee and pyjamas and your hair in a messy bun, you don't notice the subtle change in his expression.

"Hand me the coffee," you order him, pointing to the rack on your right.

He hands it to you quietly. So quiet that you have to turn to him in surprise.

"What? No jokes about how you're not my servant?" You tease him, giggling.

He doesn't answer but does show you the middle finger.

"Do you even know how to make coffee?" You ask him as you pour the milk into your glasses.

He shuffles his feet embarrased. "No....?"

You giggle out loud then. "oH MY GOD. You are telling me, that THE great Steve Rogers cannot even make coffee for himself? Oh you're definitely one spoiled brat for sure."

"Shut up I am not spoiled," he mutters into his cup.

"Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?" You ask him softly, leaning back against the counter.

He shrugs but doesn't say anything, so you both drink your coffee and talk about your teachers and the course and how he needs to be the best because he has so much to lose, and you tell him you need to be the best because you have nothing to lose. He leaves an hour later, thanking you for the coffee and admitting it "wasn't too bad".

The next time you see him outside class, his friends don't tease you, and he almost smiles at you.

[love-and-deepspace-wiki]

Surrounding Characters: Viper

(This was posted before his World Underneath story came out. Updates pending 😅)

Age: Unknown

Occupation: Unknown

Workplace: Unknown

Residence: Unknown

Family:

Guardian: Professor Lucius

"Brother": Caleb

"Brother": Kevi

"Sister": "a girl wearing a black dress"

Appearances List:

Main Story: Homecoming Wings: Vanishing Skyward: Unexpected

Main Story: Homecoming Wings: Vanishing Skyward: Blindfold

Main Story: Homecoming Wings: Night Unending: Funeral

Main Story: Homecoming Wings: Night Unending: Crossroads

Details:

Viper is a recurring character throughout the "Homecoming Wings" section of the Main Story. When he introduces himself to the protagonist, he refers to himself as "Caleb'sss friend" and that she can call him "Viper". Ironically, whenever Caleb and Viper interact, they're always antagonizing each other in some way. From what we've seen, Viper favors verbal attacks and/or insults while Caleb relies on a combination of Evol and physical strength.

To Viper, Caleb's constant need to protect the protagonist is obsessive and overprotective (hence the nickname "Mr. Overprotective"). In contrast, Viper seems to find entertainment by merely toying with the protagonist since the Professor had apparently said it wasn't "time to go after her yet". He seems offended by the idea that the protagonist is the "perfect vessel", saying she "doesn't even look as good as us unfinished products".

When Viper appears at Mia's funeral, he infers that Kevi was rescued by the Fleet because "he hasss sssomething more valuable" than the Aether Core fragment/Spatium Core. When she asks if what happened to Kevi was caused by his ability to use an Aether Core, Viper tells her not to be "too sssupicious". But since he says "aeeing her manipulated like this" was annoying, he ultimately helps her figure out what had been done to Kevi.

Physical Characteristics:

Other than his greenish-gray hair (said to be loosely tied), many of Viper's physical characteristics are either distinctly snake-like/snake-themed or suggest he is technologically enhanced in some way. I've included lists of these traits below.

Though it has yet to be clarified if he is an android/humanoid robot or a cyborg/cybernetically enhanced organism, various Main Story scenes suggest that Viper is able to feel physical pain.

Snake-like/Snake-themed Characteristics:

Gray eyes with white slit pupils.

A forked tongue that darts in and out of his mouth

His pronunciation of "s" is consistently prolonged, reminiscent of a snake's hiss

In combat, the protagonist describes him as "tough and quick" adversary who moves "like a grayish-green serpent"

In his picture (right), he is depicted as having snake bite piercings (top left, bottom left).

Technological Enhancement Characteristics:

(When pistol whipped) Wires, metal bits, and a bunch of tiny bolts burst out of his head, littering the ground in scattered electrical equipment.

(When pistol whipped) Part of his ear broke, rendering him unable to hear.

(When pistol whipped) The broken part of his ear is described as a "short-circuiting implant". After discarding it, he says he'd trade in the Aether Core for "an ear with some nice basss".

He has the ability to change his fingers into silver blades

When Caleb shoots stone shards at him, they pierce through half of Viper's face. When Caleb slams him into the ground, it destroys the other half of his face

Caleb is said to have crushed Viper's "white prosthetic eye".

At the cemetery, his face is described as being covered in "cracks and blotches"

After providing the protagonist with Kevi's new address, he "sways with the wind" and then instantly "vanishes like mist".

When Caleb twists his head around 180 degrees, Viper begs him to "at leassst put my head back in place before you go?!"

Notable Quotes:

When Kevi is being driven away from the cemetery, Viper says:

"What a lucky kid, sssaved from the fate of being a normal perssson. It'sss better to dance to the tune of the ssstrong than live a plain life. A pawn isss ssstill a pawn. But they have a chance to sssurvive to the end of a large chess game".

In "Crossroads", he recounts their recent accomplishments:

"First, we went ahead and destroyed those abandoned Flux Nexuses. Then we paid the N109 Zone and visit to get info on Onychinus. Our Skyhaven gig is almost over. Where's our next stop? Tch, we practically spoiled Ever and those old people in the Fleet. Were like their personal hitmen."

[sizebrained]

The Reason for the Glue Traps...The Rat Part 3

Hazel is terribly wounded, Jug is not happy but tolerates the giant siblings, and there's Cob... Does this count for #macromarch?

CW: Adult themes, language, danger, threat of death, terror, trauma, blood, wounds.

***

"Hurt? How?!" Sam's panic about Cob vanishing was compounded by worry now for Hazel. Sam saw the look on Ben's face. It was a mixture of fear, anger, and a devastating sadness. He looked worse than the night of his accident. Sam rushed to her brother. She dropped, sliding across the floor in one deft motion. Years of volleyball. Sam quickly clocked what was happening and saw what Ben was kneeling down in front of--the hole filled with fur and Hazel being held by another tiny figure. Sam looked closer at Ben. She wasn't sure if he was going to sob uncontrollably or throw up. Maybe both. Sam looked at the tiny person's face holding Hazel. Her big green eyes stared right into his. "You must be Jug..." Sam whispered carefully. Ben's head turned in surprise at his sister. He had no idea who was holding Hazel. He could just feel the authority emanating out of all four inches of him. Ben didn't like that Sam knew who he was and he didn't. Jug nodded. Even though they were kneeling, the pair of humans were impossibly large. Even after hundreds of years, Jug found himself surprised by them. He thought he'd seen it all from humans. But this was new and terrifying. His spine crackled with dread. Even on their knees, they radiated sheer size that made him feel insignificant in comparison. Jug did not like it. They reminded him of when he saw a stuffed bear in a museum. "Can I see her?" Sam asked slowly as she opened her hand and set it down on the floor in front of Jug.

Her palm was facing up expectantly. She smiled trying to not seem threatening. He took a half a step back from Sam's hand without even realizing. Jug saw Sam's white teeth peaking out behind her smiling lips. Each one was the size of his head. Some larger. He shivered. Even near death, Hazel could feel her father's fear shaking his whole body. "Da...she saved Cob...." Hazel managed to groan out into her father's chest.

Sam didn't hear Hazel's weak words of reassurance but Ben did.

His ears were constantly tuned in to her voice and sounds. Even now he heard her like she was kneeling next to him like Sam. His breath caught in his throat and he stifled a sob. Sam noticed that. She put her other hand on her brother's broad back and rubbed it reassuringly. "Please let me have a look and see if I can help..." Sam whispered again. Soft but insistent. Jug swallowed as if his hesitation would go down his throat again. He came closer to Sam's outstretched palm. It was enormous.

The side of her thick palm was higher than his knee. Sam's hands looked like the rest of her, toned and strong from years of exercise and sports. Jug felt unsure of trying to put Hazel in the huge human's hand without stepping on with her.

He hadn't let a human touch him since Jacques. Not even the Professor, who was like a partner father to Hazel and looked after his family for years. Certainly not Mary or her husband. No human contact for hundreds of years. Jug stayed near the hand, he adjusted Hazel in his arms. Sam felt her patience slipping. Time was a factor. She took a deep calming breath in through her nose and slowly out of her mouth. "She's very important to all of us. I would never hurt her," Sam promised. She felt like she was trying to coax a scared kitten out of a sewer drain. Normally, Sam would just grab him and pry Hazel from him but she knew better. Cob had told Sam about their father one night. Mainly that he was still living in the shed and by Ben's building and she would likely never see him. Cob said their father had gone through something terrible with humans when he was younger. Sam asked what had happened but Cob wouldn't explain. Only that he didn't like being near, seen, or touched by humans. Sam wished Cob was here instead of Jug. She missed how chatty they were by comparison. "Please I need to see what I can do and then try to find Cob, they disappeared and..." Sam said tilting her head and squinting at a sound she thought she was imagining at first. Sam thought they heard Cob's voice shouting, but it sounded muffled. "I'm here! I'm here! Jesus Christ! GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!! PLEASE!!! ANYONE?!?!" Cob whined. Jug grunted hearing his other child.

Jug braced himself then stepped onto the hand in one quick movement. He slowly knelt and laid Hazel down on the broad patterned skin of Sam's palm. Tenderly, Jug caressed Hazel's forehead with the back of his hand and cupped her cheek. He turned his head and looked up at Sam without speaking a word but his eyes drilled into her. It was a warning. "Imbécile!" Jug exclaimed, hopping off the hand. Jug had already guessed where Cob was and followed their shouts towards the hole Ben made. As soon as Jug was off her hand, Sam stood straight up with Hazel. She rushed over to Ben's bathroom, keeping her hand as steady as possible. She came out a moment later with a first aid kit. She was using her one free hand to pull things from the kit. Ben stayed on his knees in front of the hole. He watched Sam over his shoulder. He was afraid to move to see how bad it was but he was afraid to stay if this was his last chance to be with Hazel. He felt his eyes stinging as tears started rolling down his face. "Idiot géant!" Jug yelled up at Ben to get his attention. Ben blinked and looked down at the source of the voice unsure of what he had just said. "Oui! Big Fool! Help me!" Jug implored. Jug was standing in front of the dead rat. He was pulling on its whiskers desperate to try and make it budge. Unknown to Ben, Cob was on the other end stuck between building and its body. They had teleported again in a blue shimmer without any real control. Ben sniffled and reached down with one massive hand. He gently pushed Jug backwards with the back of it, the knuckles pressing into him as he moved Hazel's little father.

Jug thought it was strangely casual, like the human was very used to being around them and didn't seem phased by their tiny size at all. Jug tumbled backwards caught off guard by being swept out of the way. Two of Ben's long fingers wrapped around the rat's throat. Ben felt little resistance as he pulled it out of out the passage like it weighed nothing. Because to Ben -- it did.

Jug hadn't managed to make the rat budge with his whole body. Jug watched in horrified silence as Ben's size and power were on full display. As soon as the rat was clear, Jug looked to see Cob scared and confused from what had happened. Jug really needed to figure out what to do with his youngest child over this before they got themselves killed with their gift. Jug motioned for Cob to come to him. He didn't have to wait long as Cob rushed to their father's embrace. They both looked up at Ben as he held rat's body in his grip. Ben's sweaty, tear covered face looked furious. Jug watched while holding his breath. So did Cob. Cob had never seen a look like that on Ben's face. It was the first time Cob ever held fear and Ben in their head at the same time. They understood a lot better now why their father avoiding humans wasn't crazy.

"Ben?" Cob asked worried. Ben pulled Hazel's pick out of the rat's skull and let it fall to the floor in a light metallic clang. He squeezed the rat's body. Blood and viscera started pouring out of the poor creature's limp corpse onto the floor below. "Ben!" Sam yelled from his kitchen. "Bring Cob over here I need them!" Sam yelled again trying to figure out where to start with Hazel but finding her tiny body very difficult to manipulate safely. Ben dropped the rat from his grip letting it fall to the floor in a wet thud. He reached down to pluck Cob up with the same two fingers he had used on the rat. Cob screamed and Jug stood in front of them protectively. Ben's blood covered hand froze in the air. He came to his senses. "Oh God...Cob...I'm sorry..." Ben stuttered suddenly filled with shame. He drew his rat dirtied hand back and held it against his chest. He started crying, wiping blood and rat bits across the front of his shirt. Jug looked over their shoulder at Cob. His wide eyed stare spoke volumes.

It was Cob's turn to look embarrassed feeling their father's disapproving shock. "It's...it's ok...Can you maybe...use your other hand?" Cob asked stepping around their father in a leap of faith. Ben nodded, sniffling and lowered his other hand down flat for Cob. They hopped onto it like they'd done countless times. Right after Cob was lifted up and away as Ben made his way over to Sam. Jug stared at the rat's mangled, crushed corpse. He wasn't sure whether that would make it easier or harder to skin. Ben was next to Sam in a few steps and lowered his hand to the countertop for Cob to get off of it.

Ben paused for a moment feeling himself freeze as he stared at Hazel's body lying flat on her back. It reminded him of when they first met. This was worse. Sam kept her eyes on Hazel, squinting to try and see her tiny injuries. It was impossible. She was just too small. Sam kept trying to look over Hazel's body as she talked to Cob without looking at them. "You disappeared! Where did you go?! How did...Nevermind. Help me get her clothes off." Sam ordered Cob. She'd get an explanation of how Cob could disappear and reappear miles away later. It was Cob's turn to freeze. They looked over their big sister's body and a hand went to their mouth to stifle a sob. It was bad. Hazel looked dead. But Sam's booming voice snapped them out of it. They dutifully obeyed and carefully stripped their sister, being mindful of her wounds. Sam was rifling through drawers before she finally found what she'd been looking for--a magnifying glass Ben had specifically bought to see the details of something Hazel was sewing. Holding it now, Sam lowered her eyes down to Hazel. She lightly pushed Cob back with an outstretched pinky finger. Without the clothes and with the magnifying glass, Sam could finally see. It was worse than she feared. Far beyond her training. Sam was amazed Hazel was still alive. Sam exhaled and looked up at her brother. She took a moment to try and form her words. "Ben...she...I can't..." Sam started. Ben stood there and felt his heart between his ears. His mind was racing back to the night of his accident and all the days and nights after. Then it was only Hazel that filled his thoughts. Her smile, her laughs, her grimaces, her crying...

Her everything...she was everything to him in a way nothing else had ever been before. She couldn't die. Then it struck him. He rushed to Hazel and very delicately maneuvered her body into one of his hands through her protesting moans and whimpers. "Shh...save your strength darling you're going to be ok." Ben whispered. "Darling?" Cob and Sam both asked in unison at different volumes. Ben lowered his face down and kissed her curled up body very lightly. Then he covered Hazel's body with his other hand and speed walked out of his place.

Sam broke out of her shocked stupor at her brother's public affection, finally. "Where are you going?!" Sam yelled after him. "Sadie's a vet!" Ben yelled as he disappeared out the door. *** End Part 3