anyarose011

[anyarose011]

The Most "Wonderful" Time of the Year {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Despite a nice trip to the art gallery and ice skating rink, sometimes, Andy Williams just gets it wrong.

Part 8 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Swearing, description of nudity (on art), suggestive conversations, minor sexual harassment, a father has issues, fighting, Reader has a knife, and ANGST.

Heyyy guys (senior year, once again, has been kicking my ass and I also started a new mini-series that should be done soon). Again, I'm so sorry for how long it took me to upload and write this, and I know this chapter is short, but I swear it's got good shit in it. It's also fitting to have more chapters around Christmas time since, you know, this be a Christmas movie (yes, Alexander Payne, this can be a standalone movie, but you set it during Christmas so....) Anywho, I hope you like it (and that it breaks your heart :)

Word Count: 5.5k

You hated to admit it, but you actually like history museums. Even though your father always dragged you to them from childhood to adulthood, you didn’t really mind them. Your father’s additional commentary only added to the experience as you walked through the Greek section. It didn’t really for Angus.

“Are we almost done?” He asked.

“Quit whining.” You reprimanded him.

“I’m not.”

Your father chuckled. “What’s your hurry? I thought you liked Antiquity?”

He sighed. “In class, maybe. But I never think about it unless I need to.”

Humming, your father pointed to a casing of ceramics behind you. “Here, what do you see?”

You and Angus turned. Of course, he said. “A bunch of pottery.”

“Look at that one.” He pointed.

You certainly weren’t expecting to see a man diving his dick into a woman as she bent over to pick something up on an ancient Grecian artifact, but there you were in the Boston Fine Arts Museum, jaw on the floor.

“Amy look, a Candy Cane!” Angus teased.

“I hate you.” Was all that managed to leave your lips.

Your father chuckled, shaking his head. “Children, there’s nothing new in human experience. Each generation thinks it invented debauchery or suffering or rebellion, but man’s every appetite and impulse, from the disgusting to the sublime, is on display right here, all around you.” He gestured around the room filled with art. “So, before you dismiss something as boring or irrelevant, remember that if you truly want to understand the present, or yourself, you must begin in the past. History is not merely the past; it’s an explanation of the present.”

Angus nodded. “See, when you say it that way, and throw in some pornography, it’s a lot easier to understand.”

Mr. Hunham glanced over at you, surprised at your lack of outburst. “You’re not going to comment on that?”

“No,” you shrugged. “porn helping men understanding things checks out.”

Angus snorted, turning back to the teacher. “You should try talking more and yelling less in class. You know, most of the kids pretty much hate you. Teachers, too. You know that, right?”

“Hey.” You glared at him as if to say, ‘Lay off’.

Your father nodded, obviously trying not to show the hurt that was apparent on his face. “Well, I appreciate your frequent candidness, Mr. Tully.”

“Sure…” He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down.

It was then you realized another thing about Angus Tully that reminded you about yourself: You only noticed how horrible your words were as soon as you were done saying them.

The rest of your time at the art museum wasn’t as awkward as that entire scene, thankfully. The sun had completely set by the time you had exited, and the three of you made your way to the park. It almost made you laugh how quick Angus was to the booth to rent ice skates.

“Have you been ice skating before?” He asked as you both sat on the bench, tying up your skates.

“Once when I was eight, I think. You?”

“I played hockey until high school.” He finished tying his and stood. “And I go every chance I get when I’m in the city.”

“So, you should only fall if I push you, right?”

“Right.”

You smiled after double knotting your ice skates and approached the entrance to the rink. “My feet feel weird.”

“Yeah, you haven’t been skating for almost ten years.” He teased, walking past you and standing on the ice with ease.

Sighing, you took a step out and immediately started flailing. Still, the two of you laughed when you retreated back to solid ground. “Nope.”

Angus begged. “Come on.”

“Nuh uh, not going to do it.”

“Your dad paid a good two dollars for us to skate, and you’re going to waste it?” He joked.

“Two dollars doesn’t mean anything to my father if I’m dead!”

“You’re not going to die.”

“But-.”

He said your name with the right amount of sincerity and playfulness. “You can hold onto me. I’ll cushion you if you do fall.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you still held onto the side railing, but stepped out onto the ice. Taking a deep breath, you began walking.

“You don’t want to do that.” Angus skated by your side at your pace.

“I’m alright.” You struggled to say.

He scoffed, holding out his hand. “Yeah, I can tell. Come on.”

You stared down at it as if he had never touched you before. Still, you took it. You expected him to pull you out into the center and leave you there for dead (or try to figure out how to skate on your own), but instead, you stayed by the wall.

“Okay, you’re gonna want to lean forward, and just glide; don’t walk.” He explained, showing you.

“I’ll fall.”

“No, you won’t. Just trust me.”

Against what your nervous system was saying, you decided to. Leaning forward, you tried to copy him; and it worked for like a few seconds before you started tripping over your own feet. He caught you, of course.

“Hey, not bad!” He held you up so you could stand.

“I almost died.”

“You’re standing on your own though!” He backed away, and you still were. “That’s a good start.”

You wanted to fire a nasty retort at him, but you could only girlishly giggle. You don’t know how long you spent on that ice skating rink with him. Yes, there would be times when your feet would ache, or you’d be a mix of sweaty from the physical labor of skating and freezing from the cold, Massachusetts air. Yet, as you finally gathered your footing, you felt as if you could compete in the next Olympics.

You couldn’t, of course, but you sure had the confidence to do so.

And it was fun to laugh and talk with Angus. It always was, but it felt as if you were both on an actual date as you skated together. To everyone else on that ice rink, you were. When Angus had completely fallen onto the ice (you didn’t actually push him down, he fell on his own), pulling you down with him, you’d nearly forgotten that your father was chaperoning you two as you laughed.

After leaving the rink and taking your skates back, you walked up a set of stairs with your father and Angus, discussing where to go for dinner when-.

“Paul Hunham, is that you?!” A man and a woman approached the three of you with a gleeful look. “It’s Hugh. Hugh Cavanaugh.”

Your father’s face fell for just a moment before laughing. “Yes! Yes, of course. Wow, Hugh Cavanaugh. Oh, how are you, Hugh?”

“Oh God, what’s it been? Thirty years?” He turned to the woman beside him. “Oh, uh this is my wife, Karen. Honey, this is Paul Hunham; we went to Harvard together.”

She smiled, shaking his hand, then yours, then Angus’. “Hello.”

“Yes,” your dad nodded at Hugh’s comment. “yes we did. Uh, wow; what have you been up to, Hugh? Still in the area?”

“Oh, uh, yes-yes I’m still in Boston. Cambridge.”

“Harvard.” Karen said proudly. “He just got tenure, statistics. He won’t blow his own horn, I have to blow it for him.”

“Okay,” Hugh said to change the subject. “what about you, Paul?”

“Oh, still teaching, we have that in common.” He nodded. “History, ancient history.”

“That’s great, that’s great. Where?”

“Abroad mostly.” Your father lied through his teeth on each word. “On fellowships. Privately funded fellowships. Universities and private academies. Mostly fellowships, you know. I’m currently posted in Antwerp. Just back here for the holidays.”

“So, are these your kids?” He pointed to you and Angus.

“Well-.”

“-I’m his nephew, Laurie.” Angus cut in, then looked at you. “This is my cousin, Amy.”

Karen smiled. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

Hugh squinted his eyes as if to see you more clearly. Then, he chuckled. “Paul, do you know who she looks like?”

Your father hummed. “I would hope me.”

It was weird to hear your mother’s full name come out of a stranger’s mouth. He went on. “Do you see it? Same nose, same hair; you are the spitting image of beauty, young lady.”

Snickering, you didn’t even think of thanking him. “I’ve been told I have more of her temper than her looks. Although, our mouths are the same.”

“I have no doubt.” He laughed. “Paul, do you remember that one time freshman year?”

“Oh yes!” Your father pretended to. “When she-it was that one time during Roman history when Nolan-.”

“-Wouldn’t call on her when she was the only one to raise her hand,” Hugh looked back at you as if you didn’t know the story from the set up. “so she fed all the boys in the room the wrong answers for the rest of the class!”

“Yep,” Mr. Hunham nodded. “even I fell victim to it.”

Hugh was the only one who had relatively been amused by the fable. “Never put you and her together.”

“A lot of people didn’t.”

The group fell into a strange silence after that. Thank God for Angus Tully.

“He’s writing a book now.” He titled his head toward your father. “Tell them about your book, Uncle Paul.”

“My book.” Your father snickered, then immediately played it off. “It’s not a book, really. Just a monograph. Nothing special.”

You decided to jump in. “Don’t be so modest, dad. It’s about, uh, cameras, right? Ancient cameras?”

Hugh hummed, a quizzical look on his face.

“What she means, of course, is the camera obscura.” Your father explained. “You know, the optical and astronomical tool that dates back to, um, the time of Anaxagoras.

“Tell him the title, Uncle Paul.” Angus went back, and you masked your smile for one of curiosity and not at the misfortune of your father.

“He’s not interested, Laurie.”

Hugh smiled. “Sure, I am.”

Sighing, Paul Hunham said with the perfect amount of enthusiasm and disinterest. “Lights and Magic in the Ancient World.”

Hugh nodded before turning back to his wife, and then to your father, clasping his hand on his shoulder. “Well, Paul, I’m so glad you landed on your feet. You look swell.”

“You too. So, swell.”

“I’m sorry about your mother, Amy.” He said to you.

Thinning your lips in a tight smile, you said. “Thanks.”

Him and Karen walked away hand in hand, but he turned over his shoulder. “And we’ll keep an eye out for your book, Paul. Won’t we, honey?”

 She nodded. Of course. Merry Christmas, Paul. Bye, Laurie and Amy.”

You all wished them ‘Merry Christmas’ as you three also left. Angus wasted no time turning to you.

“What the fuck just happened?!”

“You’re asking me?!” You matched him. “You sprung into ‘Tell them about your book, Uncle Paul!’, ‘What’s the title, Uncle Paul?’.”

“I had to think of something!”

Your father sighed. “I appreciated your efforts, but I would’ve been fine on my own.”

Rolling your eyes, you asked. “Can we get dinner now?”

“I need to pick something up from the liquor store first.”

Sighing overdramatically, you and Angus stumbled behind your father. That was when you looked at the boy beside you. “Also, Laurie and Amy? Really?”

“What? They’re like brother and sister. If I said you were Jo, then that would’ve been weird.”

Oh my god, he wasn’t even halfway through the book.

You wish you had a camera solely to capture the look on your father’s face as he turned over and stared at both of you. You wonder if that was when he found out about you and Angus.

Shaking your head, you didn’t know whether to laugh or scoff as you said. “Unbelievable.”

“What do you mean ‘unbelievable’?” Angus questioned. “Jo and Laurie get married in the end, right?”

“Unbelievable.” You repeated but smiled this time.

“Right?!”

Your father sighed as you finally made it to the store. “Look, the fact of the matter is, what happened, happened, and we should just pretend it didn’t.”

Angus furrowed his brow as you all walked in. “I thought Barton men don’t lie. Don’t get me wrong, that was fun, but you just lied through your teeth.”

He held up his hand, not having it. “What I say during a private conversation is none of your goddamn business. You’re not to judge me.”

“It wasn’t a private conversation; your daughter and I were there. Besides, he brought her into it.”

“I’m right here.” You announced yourself.

“Why’d he ask if you landed on your feet?”

Your father glanced up from searching through the shelves. “What is this, Nuremberg?”

“You’re the hardass constantly telling everybody not to lie and going on about the honor code!”

Looking up at both of you, Paul Hunham sighed. “There was an incident at Harvard with my roommate.”

You gave him a look. “I’ve never heard this story before.”

“He accused me of copying from his senior thesis. Plagiarizing.”

“Well, did you?” Angus asked.

“No! He stole from me.” Your father relented. “But that blue-blooded prick’s family had allies on the faculty. I mean, their last name is on a library, so he accused me in order to sanitize his treachery. And they threw me out.”

“Holy shit,” you breathed. “you got kicked out for cheating?”

“No, I got kicked out of Harvard for hitting him.”

Angus asked. “You hit him? Like punched him out?”

“No, I hit him with a car.”

“You got kicked out of Harvard for hitting a guy with a car?!”

“By accident,” he approached the counter, talking to the cashier. “Pint of Jim Beam, please.”

You piped up, still in astonishment. “Mom said you left because your grandma was dying.”

“She was, it was just perfect timing to go and help take care of her.” He shrugged. “But my roommate broke three ribs. Which was technically his fault, because he shouldn’t have been in the road.

“Two dollars, please.” The cashier said.

Your father took his wallet out, continuing his story. “Also, he shat himself; which was the greatest indignity.”

The cashier handed him the wrapped-up bottle. “Here you go, killer.”

You couldn’t help your laughter at the sudden statement. As the three of you left and walked down the darkened, cold roads, Angus said.

“So, Mr. Hunham never even graduated college? Holy shit, you didn’t even finish up somewhere else? Who else knows?”

“Did mom even know about you hitting the guy?” You asked.

Your father nodded. “Of course she knew! She gave me an earful on the phone the first time she called me after I left. It was only Dr. Greene who knew it after that. He’d always believed in me, so he gave me a job. Adjunct faculty: zero respect and even less pay, so nobody batted an eye, and I’ve been at the school ever since.”

“Are you ashamed at how things turned out?” Angus questioned.

“Not at all. I’m proud of my work, I love history, I married the smartest and kindest woman on the planet, I helped raise a spitfire of a girl, I love Barton. Barton is my life now. I don’t know what I’d do without it.”

“Then why did you lie to that guy?”

“Because I knew he’d relish the fact that I’m a washout and never left my own high school. And he’d probably repeat that story to everybody we used to know. So, I figured he’s not entitled to my story. I am. “

Angus nodded. “Yeah. Fuck that guy.”

“Exactly. Fuck that guy!”

“Fuck him, I hope his car slides on black ice and crashes into a lamp post.” You chimed in.

“Woah,” Angus gasped.

Your father said your name scoldingly.

“What?” You scoffed. “It was weird as hell when he talked to me about my mom like he knew me.”

“I’ll admit it was strange and unnecessary.” Your father tossed his arm around your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He looked at both you and Angus. “But you’ll keep this quiet, right? No one is to know.”

“Entre nous, sir.” Angus nodded. “Entre nous.”

Your father nodded then chuckled, poking you. “‘Ancient cameras’. Where’d the hell you come up with that?”

“I tried my best!” You whined. After the men ceased in their laughter, you then said. “Can we please get dinner now?”

“Alright, alright.” Your father snorted. “Where would you like to go for your absolutely atrocious food concoction?”

“South Street.”

“I figured.”

And that is where the three of you went. It shouldn’t have surprised you it was packed the day after Christmas, which was also a Saturday. It had to have been a miracle you managed to get in line only when it was starting to go out the door; a few minutes after you arrived, the line had started to curve around to the nearest streetlight.

The diner was filled with life once you got in; families pushing tables together, friends absolutely drunk off their asses laughing, even half of the staff seemed to be enjoying the sheer joy from others. Of course, a few were understandably stressed and annoyed from the number of customers and their behavior.

The three of you were soon sitting at a booth. When Angus sat close to the window, instead of sliding into the seat across from him, you took the one beside him. Leaving your father alone on the other side. To ordinary people, it perhaps didn’t mean anything; but you still felt as if it was a signal.

“I can’t believe they’re still playing Christmas music.” Your father grumbled as The Ronettes sang about a sleigh ride and he slipped off his jacket.

You giggled, copying him. “It was just yesterday.”

“I know, but still.”

“I like this song, thank you very much.”

He held up his menu as if to hide his disgust. You and the boy beside you chucked as Angus said. “I feel like I’ve been here before.”

“You don’t know if you have?” You asked.

“It feels familiar. Maybe when I was a kid?”

“We’d always come here when we’d visit Boston.” You looked at your father. “The owner gave me a free banana split when I turned twelve, he knew us so well, right?”

That managed to pull a laugh out of him. “That he did. If he’s here tonight maybe you could get a free dinner for us.”

You and Angus looked down at the menu before you, and soon enough, an exhausted waitress came by to take your drink orders and lay down silverware. Immediately, you asked for French fries and your favorite milkshake.

“There’s no way that’s going to be good.” Angus pointed out.

“Oh, ye of little faith.” You scoffed.

“That’s not faith, that’s fact.”

“What you’re speaking of is an opinion, not even a theory. If you ever want to make it in this world, I suggest you learn the different between those two before you can even begin to comprehend what an actual fact is.”

“And what is an actual fact?”

“You’re an idiot.”

He smirked despite the fact you insulted him. You also couldn’t hide your own smile. It was apparent from anyone in that room, it was not a smile of victory; it was one synonymous with the feeling inside of your chest as it felt like your own heart would burst forth like light.

Your father had felt this feeling before, so it was not lost on him.

“You seem awfully happy to have your entire statement dismantled, Mr. Tully.” He said to Angus.

The boy looked up, still with a smile but one not as euphoric. “I mean, I wasn’t that serious about it.”

“Oh, and I didn’t think you were. It just astounds me how close you two became in a matter of a few days.” He said. “Wasn’t it only yesterday you both were at each other’s throats?”

You stepped in. “No, that was the first few days, actually. I mean, we were the only kids at Barton after that, so it’s probably best we figured how to deal with each other. I guess we both liked some of the same things too, so that made it easier.”

“Yeah.” Angus nodded.

Your father straightened his gaze between the two of you, but then smiled, getting up from the booth. “I have to use the facilities; don’t go anywhere.”

“No papa,” you teased. “we’re going to go do a line of cocaine with the homeless man a few blocks away.”

“You know, I’m beginning to believe that you’re the bad influence on Mr. Tully and not the other way around.”

With that, he left the two of you by yourselves as he walked to the back of the diner. Once he was gone, you and Angus cackled to yourselves.

“Do you think he knows?” You asked, a hint of concern mixed in with delight.

“I don’t know, probably.” He shrugged, still chuckling. “Is that so bad?”

“I mean…I’ve never had a boyfriend before.” You admitted, smiling shyly.

Even though the rest of the diner was booming with Christmas music and leftover excitement from the holidays, it all fell silent between you two. The boy who was once radiated in the happiness you shared with him, now covered in a shroud of terror.

Well…in reality, he was alarmed, not terrified; yet, that is all you saw.

“Shit I-!” You realized what you had just said. “I didn’t mean-I mean, we don’t have to be together, I just meant that I’ve never had someone like me back when I’ve liked them, and even then, it didn’t happen very often-.”

“-Hey, hey.” He stopped you. “No, I’ve never had that happen either. I mean, I’ve been to all boys’ schools since I was fourteen. I think…yeah, I think I’d like to give it a try.”

“Really?” You felt the weight from your shoulders loosen as your face brightened.

He nodded, glowing with you. “Really.”

You glanced up at the bathroom door, and when there was no sight of your father, you took his face into your hands, pulling him into a kiss. It wasn’t as intense as your previous ones, but not as quick as the one you gave him outside the bookstore.

He pulled away first, and before you could say anything about it, you saw the waitress leave from the corner of your eye. She had brought the drinks, including your milkshake and fries. Turning back towards the table, you immediately picked up a fry and dipped it into the milkshake.

“Oh my god, you weren’t joking.” Angus said with no emotion behind it.

“I know I’m funny, but this I would not joke about.” You talked as you ate. “Try it.”

“No.”

“I’ll kiss you if you do.” You took another fry.

“You’ll kiss me anyway.”

“I’ll kiss you like how the French do.”

“You already do that.”

 “I’ll do something different.”

His eyes grew, and he huffed out a surprised laugh. “‘Something different’?”

“Yeah.” You dipped a third fry. “I don’t know what, but I’ll do it.”

 “Not that you have to, but fine I’ll try it.” Angus reached for a fry, then dipped it into your milkshake and ate it.

Angus’ face went through more arrays of emotions in a short time since you met him. You grinned from ear to ear. “Well?”

“Fuck off.” He tried to hide his smile as he took another fry.

“I’m sorry, what?” You taunted.

“It’s not the best-.”

“-I’m sorry, what?!” You repeated louder, and you both were talking over each other. “It sounds like-!”

“You don’t have to be so-!”

“It sounds like you actually like it!”

“You’re so loud.”

You finished with laughter, and then kissed his cheek. You returned to your milkshake and fries as Angus talked about something funny that happened back in the fall. You can’t remember what he said to this day, because a familiar voice entered your ears as it entered the diner.

Angus kept talking to you, but it was in one ear and out the other as you tried your best not to show your discomfort at the man who laughed a little louder than the rest of the people in the diner. When you thought Angus wasn’t paying attention, you glanced over your shoulder at the entrance.

There he stood; a man around the same age as your father with a woman perhaps ten or fifteen years younger than him, holding a baby on her hip, and clutching her seven-year-old daughter’s hand.

Despite what Andy Williams was singing from the jukebox, this was not the most wonderful time of the year.

Angus tapped your shoulder, and you drew your eyes away to look at him.

“Hey, I hate this song, I’m gonna go change it.” He said. You got out of the booth for him to stand, and once he did you sat back down. Only for him to then say. “Okay, scoot over.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Scoot over.”

“You didn’t even change the song.”

“I changed my mind, it’s not that bad.”

He was bullshitting you, but you scooted over anyway, and he sat beside you. “What’s going on?”

You scoffed. “You’re the one that got up and sat down again.”

“Is that guy Daniel?”

“Angus-.”

“-Tell me.”

“Is he bothering you?”

Both you and Angus looked and saw the man from the entrance stand before you with his hands in his pockets. You dropped your gaze.

“No, he’s not.”

You had no idea what you hated more that night: hearing a man you never met say your mother’s name, or hearing a man you knew too well say yours.

“If he is, just say the word and-.”

“-He’s not bothering me.” You hissed.

Angus slipped his hand into yours as you kept your eyes down, but he kept his trained on the man standing in front of him.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Look, I just didn’t expect you to actually show up.”

You didn’t say anything, so Angus did.

“Could you go? She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He ignored him, still angling on you. “Look, sweetie, you don’t have to, and I get it if you don’t want to, but I’d really like it if you came and meet them. They’re all right here now; Carol, Maria, and Frankie. He just turned one last week-.”

“-Can you just fuck off?” You finally looked at him.

He tilted his head and raised his brows before looking at Angus. “Young man, could you give her and I some privacy-?”

“-No.”

The man looked at you, scoffing. “Jesus Christ, what’d you do to make him so fucking head over heels for you? Was that the issue just now between you two? Under the counter action?”

Angus stood. “Fuck you, what’s your problem?”

You pulled on his sleeve, hissing his name and kneeling on top of your seat to try and get him to sit back down. The man continued to taunt him.

“My problem is that you don’t know what’s going on boy, and you’re being a little prick about all of this.”

“Get the fuck out of here or I’ll…”

“‘You’ll-you’ll what?’” He looked over at you. “I can’t tell if you picked the bravest or the stupidest kid to fool around with, Eurydice.”

You were always a strange child growing up. Perhaps it was that there are times in your life you picture music whenever a certain emotion arose within you.

As you heard him say that name, a name that you heard last when your mother was dying in her bed, a name that was only for her to use and her alone…You heard Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saëns.

You don’t even remember grabbing the stupid butter knife from your silverware, just raising it up above you and believing it would cause any harm. As Angus held you back, the man reached over you to grab your hair.

Chaos ensued for a moment in the diner as you cried out when he pulled the ribbon out of your hair, and both him and Angus engaged in a battle of expletives. Most of the diners held back and watched in shock, while only two of them came up. A man stood between him and Angus, and the wife of the yelling man pulled him away.

“Daniel, what the hell is going on?!” She hissed.

“Yes, Daniel,” all eyes fell onto Paul Hunham, who was behind Daniel. “what is the meaning of this?”

You shrunk back in the booth, Angus hugging you tightly against him as if to hide you from Daniel. Both of you stared at the scene before you.

“Paul…” Daniel nodded, standing taller and holding his wife’s hand.

Mr. Hunham nodded back. “Your Christmas went well I take it?”

“It was fine; yours?”

“Just peachy.” He gave a tight smile, looking around at everyone else. “Family matters everyone, I sincerely apologize.”

Hesitantly, the crowd went back to their own business; or they were at least good at pretending to as they eavesdropped. Mr. Hunham continued.

“Why’re you here exactly?”

“The same as you.” Daniel explained. “Dinner with my family.”

He hummed. “And you thought it wise to inform the child in the scenario but not me?”

“Now wait a minute-.”

“-I assume your wife also didn’t know about this or the letters and money you sent?”

At the mention of her, Daniel’s wife scowled. “Danny, what’s he talking about?”

He shook his head. “Hunham, you should just mind your own-.”

“-Well now you see, I can’t do that, because her mother trusted me to provide and care for her.”

It was only then did Angus Tully understand what exactly had been going on. As the adults fought, he looked down at you in his arms. It was as if it were the first time he had seen you, and it was the first time he noticed that he could not find a trace of Mr. Hunham.

The eyes he thought you had gotten from your mother stared up at him with dread, and when Angus looked back at the man seething with unspoken rage, he saw them there too.

“Look,” Paul sighed. “I don’t want to cause another scene, so let us handle this like men. You will not make contact with her again, and we can walk away.”

He took a heaving breath before responding. “Fine by me. Come on, Carrie.”

Daniel began to lead her away from your booth, but Paul stopped them. “I believe you have something of my daughter’s.”

His eyes trailed down to the ribbon in his hand. He let go of his wife to walk back to Paul who held his hand out. Instead of giving it to him, he turned to Angus, smiling. He handed it to him.

“Keep her on a short leash, boy. She’s got her mother’s mouth.”

With that, he and his wife and children left the South Street Diner. You only pulled away from Angus when he did from you. No tears had fallen onto your cheeks, but that didn’t mean they weren’t stinging your eyes as you tried to keep them at bay.

You took the ribbon from Angus only for it to hang loosely at your side. Paul softened his gaze as he began to put on his jacket.

“I think we should just settle on room service tonight.” He said gently. “I can get them to bag up the fries and let you take the milkshake glass?”

You could only nod, not wanting to look at either of the men with you. You all put on your coats in silence, and Angus, though not hugging you, hovered as Mr. Hunham spoke with the staff; both about not wanting to report the incident, and also on paying extra for you to take the glass.

It was so cold out, and everyone was so tired from not just the events of the night, but the entire day, that Paul splurged on a cab for the three of you back to the hotel.

Angus also didn’t feel shame in trying to hold you hand in front of your father; or…stepfather. You limply held his hand back, but you leaned against him as you sat in the cab, staring at the Boston Christmas lights as the city passed by you.

When the cab made it to the hotel, you led the way in a tired haze to the elevators. It wasn’t just the three of you in the elevator; there was a somewhat large family that piled in, all merry and jolly and reeking of chlorine from the pool they had just swum in.

It was as if God himself was rubbing salt into the wounds, tempting you to lick them.

When you made it onto your floor, you also led the way back to your connecting rooms. There was no ‘Goodnight’ or ‘Can we stay up just a little longer?’ to your companions; you simply opened your door and shut it in their faces.

Setting the milkshake down, you tossed off your jacket and pulled your shoes off. Collapsing on the bed, you looked down at the ribbon still in your hand…and you cried.

[anyarose011]

"Nursing on the Poison that Never Stung" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: It was the one night you were supposed to have off from work. Naturally, that was when Aemond Targaryen came in to bother you (for good reason). He came in for weeks after that to "bother" you some more. Yet, one night changed all of that.

Part 3 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): SMUT, PIV sex, oral sex (f and m receiving), loss of virginity, porn with plot, fingering, riding, titty sucking, dirty talk (High Valyrian style), eye trauma, cussing, mention of past child SA, attempted SA (not done by Aemond), canon typical violence, and someone's throat gets ripped out.

I'm so sorry it took me SOO long. Not only is my life kind of falling at the seams, but this chapter is also hella long so I hope it was worth it! There's a bunch of High Valyrian in this chapter. I myself am not fluent, but I tried to search up phrases and familiarize myself with some of the grammar, so I hope it's accurate. This chapter has a bit more sensitive themes (but mainly at the end, most of it is just porn with a little plot).

Word Count: 9.8k

It had been a week since Aemond Targaryen helped walk you home; and touched you so intimately in your childhood bedroom of all places.

You would see him come and go once in a while from Sylvi’s brothel and talk with him every so often, but not for long. Not even long enough to do anything but greet him, ask him how he was, and then have him be whisked away by Sylvi. It was always a flip of a coin for her to either glare at you or smile every time she did.

Tonight was the rare night you would be at the brothel not to prepare for your ‘Woman at the Well’ act, but to mend the clothes of the women. It was something you did only once every moon, but it was a nice break in between your more so risky job.

Because you mended the clothes so rarely, it would take hours upon hours to do. That was why you begun it at dinner with the girls who usually helped pretty you up.

And, just like the week prior, their minds were filled with-.

“-I heard that war will come to King’s Landing in a fortnight.” One of the younger workers theorized.

Chansey scoffed, eating her dinner. “I heard that you run your mouth with gossip when it should be running down a man’s chest.”

The girls laughed, and you joined along with them momentarily. Then, Valda broke it up.

“I heard that it’s a curse the Kingsguard put upon the land by parading the skull of a dragon through the streets.”

Silence filled the air as if Death himself walked in. Once again, it was Valda who spoke first. “I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them burned the city to the ground simply to take revenge.”

She stormed out of the room with the slam of the door. Murmurs followed, questioning and complaining of her concern.

“Don’t mind her, girls.” Chansey shook her head. “She’s only upset because she got the clap.”

It was unfortunate for her, but fortunate for you; you had someone to talk to and not worry about a smelly man bursting in to ask for sex.

So, there you were in one of the private suites wearing only your corset and a skirt. You were sitting comfortably on the bed mending a thin dress as Valda laid her head on your lap. It was only the third day of the week; there was no way that many rich suitors would want to reserve a private room.

“How’s your side?” She asked.

“Tender,” you answered. “but I feel much better. How’s your clap?”

“It hurts to piss.” She groaned. “And do you remember when you got shitfaced and saw that fella kissing my cunt?”

Giggling, you nodded. “I do. Against popular belief, I remember many things about that night.”

“Like Prince Aemond?”

“What’s this about your cunt kissing fella?”

“He said he was going to come back tonight.” She whined

“And you’re sure he’s not the one who gave you the disease?”

Sighing, Valda sat up, playfully glaring at you. “Even if he did, he’d have the decency to come up and apologize.”

You chuckled, finishing up your final stitch on the dress before moving onto a sock. “If he does, he’s not kicking me out of this room.”

“You can join us if you’d like.” She joked. “Or just watch, whatever you want.”

“And get the clap from you?!” You laughed.

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

You sighed. “At this rate, might as well get it out of the way.”

Valda hummed. “You don’t mind just ‘throwing’ your purity away now?”

“I’m the only woman in this building who hasn’t.”

“Yes but…”

You eyed her. “But?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I like that you’re a little romantic; that you want it to be with someone you love and trust.”

You ceased your stitching, dropping your eyes. “Of course I’ll do it with someone I trust but…I’d rather do it now so it would feel good later.”

Valda gave you a look, saying your name warningly.

“No more talk of this.” You smiled. “I’m glad your tantrum ended.”

She rolled her eyes. “Who said it ended?”

“Why are you so upset?”

 “I love my life.” She sighed. “Regardless of where I work, or how much I make, I am happy. If the Targaryen children or Rhaneyra’s bastards want to make a war because they do not know how to-.”

“-Hold your tongue!” You whispered. “What you say is treason, what if anyone were to hear you?”

She laughed. “We’re in a private room.”

“Someone could be outside and be listening in.”

“They’d make out anything over the moans of men and the women that are faking them?”

“Valda-.”

“-They say Rook’s Rest was a victory, but my brother says otherwise.”

Yes, her brother, Mikhail. No, not a knight of the City Watch or the Kings Guard, but a sailor. Still, he was a sailor who had a silver tongue and could make anyone speak simply with his charm. If it wasn’t secrets he specialized in, it was exporting goods. Sometimes, it was an ordinary transportation of ordinary goods. Other times, either the goods were illegal, and anyone found with them would be hung, or the transportation of them would be off the books (therefore illegal) and a man would be publicly scourged.

Luckily, Mikhail avoided it all.

“What does your brother say?” You questioned, interest piquing.

Despite her early protests of anyone being unable to hear you, she leaned in. “That the king and his dragon fell from the sky while bathing in fire.”

A chill ran down your spine, but she wasn’t finished.

“He also said your little prince had been there on his dragon.”

Taking a deep breath, the first thing you said was “He’s not my little prince.”

“That’s what upsets you?” Valda chuckled bitterly, saying your name gently. “You understand what this means?”

“Say it.” You dared.

She sucked in a breath. “Mikhail’s told me that-.”

“-Mikhail told you that some random man told him what?”

“That it was Aemond Targaryen who lit his own brother aflame.” Valda hissed lowly.

Swallowing the growing dread within you, you said. “Were you there?”

Valda said your name, almost as if she was begging you. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Like our Madame has told me.”

“Sylvi is jealous, I am genuinely fearful.”

 “Jealous? She’s jealous of me?” You scoffed. “As-as if I stole something that was hers, when in fact, he isn’t hers because he is a person and she-!”

The sound of rushing footsteps and a body clashing into the wall stopped your thoughts. Valda opened her mouth but was met with the door slamming open. There, only wearing a pair of trousers, was Aemond; his hand clutched over his left eye, writhing in pain.

You called his name, standing. “What’s wrong?”

“Take it out.” He huffed.

“What?”

“This damned thing.” He grunted. “It’s burning.”

Only being able to nod, you gently took his arm and led him to the bed. “Sit, sit, sit.” You turned to Valda. “Do-do you know how to do this?”

She shook her head, just as much terror was on her face. As she opened her mouth to respond, you watched as Sylvi burst through the half-opened door. “My prince, what is the matter?!”

He groaned in response, digging his nails into your arm.

Sylvi turned to you and Valda. “Both of you, head down to the healers and-.”

“-Leave us.” He heaved in pain.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Yet, once you rose from the bed, he didn’t let go of your arm. “Stay.”

“What?” Your voice broke.

Sylvi shook her head. “Aemond-.”

“-Leave us!”

Valda leapt off the bed, giving one last look of regret to you before she left. Sylvi continued to stare at you as if you had been the one to scream at her, before turning and hastily leaving, slamming the door.

You were truly on your own.

Taking control as best as you could, your eyes darted to the opened sewing kit on the vanity. Tweezers. Last time you checked, they should’ve been in there!

You dumped the box upside down, several needles creating almost a trap around you until a pair of tweezers landed on your foot. Picking them up in a snap, you stood in front of the prince.

“Aemond, Aemond,” you clutched his shoulder. “you need to remove your hand.”

When he did so, you winced at the sight before you: the creases of his eye were as red as the morning sun, and the sapphire in his eye was as blue as ever. You set down the tweezers and reached over to the nightstand beside the bed, grabbing the small tub of cream Valda had for her own condition.

“It’s a cure all.” You could only say, opening it. “It should help.”

He gritted his teeth in reply.

Dipping your fingers into the tub and hesitantly rubbing in over the redness. He hissed at the coldness of it, and you mumbled an apology. Once his skin was covered, you set the tub down, and your gaze hovered over the tweezers on the bed.

“Just take it out.” Aemond begged.

“It’ll hurt.” You warned, more so for yourself.

“Please.”

Your throat tightened at his voice; a voice you had never heard him use before. Taking a deep breath, you ripped a piece of your skirt, bunching it into a small cloth and placing it onto your lap. You hovered the tweezers over the sapphire eye in one hand and cupped his cheek with the other.

“Close your eye.”

He listened with trembling breath.

“Cou-count to three, and I’ll do it.”

Aemond nodded. “One-,”

You dug the tweezers into his left eye. A scream tore through his throat and into your ears. You forced yourself to keep steady, pulling on the sapphire. It was barely budging, but it still was moving.

“I’m sorry!” You yelled over his cries.

Aemond forced his screams into raged groans, clutching the sheets of the bed beneath him. “Keep going.”

“If you need me to stop-.”

“-No.”

You went back in, twisting the tweezers instead of just pulling. The sapphire was moving more than it had been, and with one final tug, it was out. Instantly dropping the tweezers onto the floor, you took the cloth off your dress and covered his left eye as he brought up his own hand to hold it.

“I know, I know,” You whimpered, still holding his face and kissing his left brow, mumbling against his skin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

With a final kiss to his forehead, you pulled away and looked at him as his body shuddered from the pain. He opened his eye, fresh tears escaping. It was only then, in his vulnerability as he stared back at you, did you realize:

You had just placed your lips upon him.

“Aemond I-.”

He silenced you, his right hand clutching your neck. Your breath stilled, as if you were to breathe, you wouldn’t be able to anymore. His one eye burned into yours, silently begging him to have mercy on whatever would happen next.

Then…he kissed you.

It was as if he was trying to devour your face when your lips weren’t enough. His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer as he tried to kiss every inch of skin. His teeth got into the mix of it, leaving temporary marks.

Setting your hand on his bare chest, you pushed him away once you began to see stars. Your chest rising and falling as if you had run for your life, you looked at him. No more tears had fallen from his right eye, and from his left…there was skin still reddened and irritated from your prodding and pulling. The long scar had been most apparent to you that night.

You must have been the first person to have truly seen him like this. Not as a fearsome prince with one eye, not as a killer…

But a man; a man who ran to you and only wanted you in a time of great distress.

With one, brave breath, you placed the lightest of kisses across his scar; barely touching his skin. You hand traveled into his hair, pressing your lips down the bridge of his nose until you finally made it to his mouth with the same gentleness.

He followed your pace, wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you impossibly closer. You were on your knees, practically hovering over his lap when his kisses became more feverous little by little. It was when he bit your bottom lip you finally pulled away.

“You should go to the healers downstairs.” You said, just remembering why he came up to you in the first place. “The best one is named Alezander. Or-or you have those fancier ones at the Red Keep, right? Perhaps they’ll know more how to-.”

Aemond only hummed loud enough to get your attention, but other than that, spent more of his time unlacing your corset.

“Out of all the days to wear undergarments…” He shook his head, teasing.

 “I apologize that I didn’t dress appropriately for your liking tonight but-Aemond, I’m serious!” You grabbed his hands from around your waist, stopping him. “I don’t want you to get an infection.”

His smile did not waver. He took one of his hands out from your grip and stroked your cheek. “Please.” He mimicked.

Oh, you were fuming now.

“I’m not going to ask you again-.”

He laid you down on the bed, then traveling down to your legs, and his head disappearing under your skirt. A squeak escaped your mouth when you felt his lips upon your right ankle, then your knee.

“What-what are you-?”

Your leg was soon resting over his shoulder, and you felt his nose brush your pearl before his lips followed.

Another groan left you as he continued to kiss you somewhere you never knew you needed to be kissed before. Valda had told you how wonderful it is…but gods, you never believed her until then.

It was embarrassing how high your cries sounded as he continuously licked strips up and down your sweltering cunt. His fingers soon parted the folds, and just somehow, you became more sensitive, clutching the sheets beneath you.

There was a fire burning in your stomach, but it tightened and tightened like a knot in your hair. You arched your back with each growing pleasure, and you spotted Aemond’s hand reaching for you.

Taking it, you pressed a kiss to each knuckle before placing it on the top of your breast peeking out of the corset. He squeezed it every time his nose bumped against your clitoris, and the fire within you turned into an inferno until you were rocking against his face, moaning with each thrust.

Then, it stopped.

A haze of tiredness you’d never experienced swept over you. You hadn’t realized Aemond came out of your skirt until he was looming over you, kissing your cheeks and down your throat.

“What was that?” Your words slurred.

“My admiration for you.” He nibbled on your pulse point. “You’ve felt that before, haven’t you?”

“Your admiration or that?”

His hand traveled back under your skirt, teasing your clit and inserting part of his finger into you. You gasped at the sensitivity of it. “That.”

You shook your head.

He retracted his hand. “You’ve never touched yourself?”

“Is that why he called it a ‘little death’?”

“Who?”

“The man pawing after me when I saw you with your cock out.” You admitted as if you were drunk. “He said he’d give me a ‘little death’ when I was stabbed.”

Aemond nodded, helping you sit up and begin to unlace your corset. “Do you remember his name?”

“He didn’t tell me. I felt like I died a little just now, that’s why I said it.” You stopped his hands again. “You didn’t ask me if I want this.”

“Do you?”

You nod at first, then shrink into yourself. “I…I don’t think you’ll enjoy it that much.”

“I just want you.”

“Valda said it hurt the first time she did it.”

“She laid with a man who had no idea what he was doing.” He brushed your lip with his thumb. “Just relax.”

You determined that Aemond Targaryen had a way about him; how you somehow could trust him after everything. So that’s why you turned your back to him, making it easier for him to remove your corset. After it was fully unlaced, you slipped it off, revealing your naked back to him.

“I’m not turning until you’re bare first.”

He didn’t give a retort or an insult. You felt the weight of him behind you leave, and heard his trousers fall to the floor.

“Look at me.”

You wanted to then and there, but you didn’t. Instead, you rose up onto your knees and tugged your skirt down. It was all over when you tried to step out of it; falling onto your side with your other leg still in the skirt.

All you could do was laugh at that point. Aemond’s hand rubbed up and down your arm, laying behind you, lightly chuckling in your ear. He helped you slip out of your skirt, and then ran a finger over your side where a scar was beginning to form.

“Does it still hurt?”

“A little, but not horribly.” You rested on the pillow.

Aemond turned you gently onto your back, his eye running down your naked form. You mirrored him, taking in just how lean he truly was. You were just a girl as well; of course, your gaze paused on his cock dangling between his legs. He never looked away as he crawled on top of you.

“This might feel strange.” He warned, lowering himself and pressing his cock just against your center.

“Okay,” you said.

He was right; it felt strange when he inserted himself. In fact, it felt wrong. You whimpered at the feeling, the tightness and the discomfort. Aemond shushed you, kissing your tightly shut eyes.

“Gimin, gimin.” he whispered. “Lykirī. Lykirī.”

Despite not knowing what he was saying to you, you felt at peace. Your breathing slowed as the pain fell away, and you opened your eyes. You took his face into your hands, bringing his lips down to yours, and wrapping your legs around his waist, your heels pressing into his backside.

“Please,” you begged. “just go slow.”

He placed a kiss to your brow before rolling his hips. You had decided that, if and when you were going to lay with a man for the first time, you would never fake your pleasure for his comfort. Whether it was a stranger, a friend, or even a prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

You would let Aemond Targaryen know if he was doing a bad job.

Yet, as he rocked into you at a gentle pace, and the trail of his pubic hair caressed your bundle of nerves, you couldn’t help the small, staccato grunts that escaped. One of his hands took yours, holding and pressing it into the mattress to hold himself up, while the other held your face. Your free hand traveled into his hair, pulling him chest-to-chest with you, and placing your lips on his.

He quickened once you copied his thrusts, wrapping one of his arms around your waist to move you at an angle that felt…oh.

Your cries grew embarrassingly louder, tugging on his hair and causing him to moan right into your mouth. You were barely kissing now, just your lips hovering over one another as he fucked you.

His hand guided yours down to where his cock and your cunt met. At the feeling of something moving against your hand, your eyes flew open.

“Aōla renigon?” He asked. “Do you feel me?”

“Yes, yes!” You gasped as you felt his bulge move within you.

You were lowered back down onto the bed, but he did not slow for a second. His mouth went to your chest, taking one of your breasts in between his lips. His tongue circled your areola, and it was then your hips began to grow sore while his found a new vigor pounding into you.

He was more vocal too, and as his groans reverberated through your skin and the room, the growing pleasure within you was climbing and climbing until-.

Until-.

A cry none like the others tore through you. No, it wasn’t loud. Unrestrained, yes, but it wasn’t so comically deafening. Aemond pulled himself away from you, and took his throbbing dick into his hands, palming himself and tossing his head back in a groan.

Spurts of his cum tainted your stomach and quivering legs as you laid flat on your back.

Both of your chests rose and fell like waves on the sea in a storm, and you couldn’t look away from each other. Never in your life had you felt so…okay with being completely bare in front of a man.

To be fair, it was the first time you were.

Aemond grabbed a spare blanket that was on the bed and wiped off his spent. You hadn’t even asked him to, but he did so regardless. As he worked over you, you moved a piece of hair out of his face.

“You’re beautiful.”

He smiled, sitting up and tossing the blanket off the bed. “I’m the first man that bedded you, of course you say that.”

“No.” You shook your head, sitting up. “I mean it. At least, when you’re being nice you are.”

Looking down at your legs, you saw a strain of blood upon the blanket. “Oh shit.”

“It’s natural.” He immediately reassured. “This was the first time you-.”

“-No, I know. It’s just still unusual.”

Aemond kissed your cheek before crawling between your legs, resting his head on your chest. You combed your fingers through his hair, feeling your heart finally slow. The only sound in the room were both of your steady breaths.

“What happened before you came here?” You asked in the silence.

“I was with Sylvi.” He surprised you by answering. “My eye had felt strange the whole time, until it was too much. I asked where you were, and she told me.”

“You know that’s not all of it.”

As if it would draw your attention away, he placed a kiss to your breast. Rolling your eyes, you pulled him off so he could properly look at you. “When you took me home, you doubled over in pain because of your eye. That was a week ago.”

You saw right through him as he had done to you. Sighing, he laid down beside you, shutting his eye. “I have to take the jewel out every so often to clean both it and the socket. It hurts to do so, and I’ve been busy considering my sister is trying to usurp my brother.”

Rhaenyra, you had to remind yourself for a second, not Queen Halena.

“You’ve kept it in for a while.” You finished for him.

“I have.” He looked back at you. “And before you ask, I’ll get to the maesters tomorrow and have them put it back in.”

“Sylvi didn’t tell you I was here, did she?”

“I asked one of the girls serving me wine.”

You hummed, turning on your side. “Not before putting on your undergarments.”

“I didn’t want to frighten you.”

Laughing, your mind was taken back to that night you wandered upon him and Sylvi as you were bleeding out.

“Gods above, you were naked as a newborn babe when I was being stitched up!”

A grin etched his lips; he smiled more when you were with him those days. “I didn’t have time to cover myself.”

“It was odd though, how you walked out into the open with your cock on display.”

“It was the second time I had done that.”

“I suppose princes are allowed to do that.” You sighed. “I suppose men are allowed to do that.”

Aemond drew his eye back up to the ceiling. “Women are more beautiful in their natural state than men. It’s truly a shame they cannot walk outside completely bare.”

You rose your brow at the statement, turning onto your stomach and poking his cheek teasingly. “Oh? And if you were king, would you let them?”

He looked back at you, his eye briefly running down your body.

“Only a few.”

“You nasty, rotten dog!” You shoved him, laughing.

His face changed into a moment of panic, and you thought you said something wrong until he slid off the bed and crouched on the floor. Sitting up you watched as he frantically crawled on his hands and knees, mumbling in High Valyrian.

You called his name, feet hanging off the bed. “What is it?”

“The sapphire!” He hissed. “I can’t find it.”

Grasping the seriousness, you got onto the floor with him, searching the entire floor for the jewel. You both must’ve searched for just a few minutes until you heard Aemond sniffling. He wasn’t crying, but his face started to turn red from frustration.

“Hey,” you said softly. “if we don’t find it now, we’ll-.”

“-You wouldn’t understand!” He spat. “If I don’t find it this instant than she’ll-!”

He stopped himself, his anger crumbling just as it began. His body was tensed and puffed out like a bird trying to show aggression; but underneath all that, you saw terror.

“What will she do?” You asked, sitting up taller.

His gaze dropped, and his breathing quickened as he rapidly blinked back his tears.

“May I touch you?” You questioned, and he looked at you as if you had told him you loved him. He nodded. You cupped his face in your hands. “Whatever she wants to do to you, I won’t let her. Do you hear me? I’ll kick and scream like a wailing child before I let her harm you.”

For whatever reason at all (perhaps it was because he was afraid, perhaps it was because you were both naked on the floor, or perhaps it was because he had told you a shocking piece of history he had with her), but you assumed ‘she’ was Sylvi.

A woman you had come to trust ever since you were a child. A woman who had in turn, took advantage of a boy the same age you were when she proclaimed she’d never let a man touch you, even if he was Viserys himself.

You still thought that, of course, when Aemond wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, kissing you before then resting his head in your lap. You returned to softly brushing his hair.

“She made the maesters put it in.” He confessed. “She could only look at her son for what he was for only a few moons until she became disgusted.”

…He was speaking of his mother….the Dowager Queen.

It was still heartbreaking; so, you decided to ask. “And what is her son?”

“A monster.”

He didn’t even have to think. Taking a deep breath, you pressed the softest of kisses to his scar. “Would a monster walk me home in the rain and show kindness to the only other person I can call family? Would a monster feel sorrow in believing that he is a monster?”

Aemond hid himself further into your lap. You traced your hand up and down his spine. “It’s late. Perhaps you should-?”

“-Just a little longer…”

Sighing lightly, you teased. “Could we at least be on the bed?”

He didn’t leave your arms for another hour after that; and no one had knocked on the door either.

Two weeks later, three things were apparent. The first was that all of King’s Landing had been put on lockdown, not allowing any person to leave, or any person to enter. The next, was that Aemond had been appointed as Prince Regent, which added to Valda’s statement of him being the one to purposefully set his brother ablaze with his dragon.

And the third: You were completely, and most ardently addicted to him.

Almost every night, whether it was after you put your grandmother to bed, or even after luring and robbing a man in nothing but a thin dress, you would meet him at Sylvi’s brothel in one of the private rooms.

Each time you fucked was better than the last. In the short time you had been with him, you’d gone from being an unsure, inexperienced girl, to having touched every inch of the prince’s body. Some nights were more intense than others; physically and emotionally.

One night, you would be rocking into him until both your skins turned red, and the other, you would be holding him in your arms, talking about nothing and everything.

He taught you how to touch yourself, you taught him how to fully bare his soul to you (or at least…you thought he did).

“I haven’t done this for a while.” Aemond told you one night as you kneeled in between his legs.

You giggled, still high off of how he used his fingers on you prior. “Which part?”

“A lot of it. I hadn’t with Sylvi since…I can’t even recall.”

Swallowing at his words, you asked. “You mean, you didn’t fuck her?”

He nodded. “I wouldn’t even let her kiss me, it felt…confusing.”

“I saw her mouth on you…”

Placing his hand on your cheek, he rubbed his thumb over your lips. “Perhaps I was imagining it to be someone else’s.”

He didn’t have to imagine it that night.

Whenever you arrived at the brothel, the worst reaction from the other girls (mainly Valda) was a disapproving shake of the head, or light teasing. Then, there was Sylvi.

She had her back turned to you one night as she counted coin. You returned from a job (he had pulled your hair, so you would have to tell Aemond to be gentle), and it was the first time you were alone with her. Other nights, she would stare at your from across the room as a man pawed and groped her, all the while, you were on your way to find the Prince Regent.

You tried to tiptoe past her, but she turned as if she knew you were already there.

She spoke your name with a smile. “How was the night?”

You approached her, reaching into the pocket of your dress, then throwing her the small sack. Sylvi opened it, her face lighting up.

“Seven Hells…” She gasped.

“I know.” You shrugged. “I didn’t expect him to be so wealthy either.”

“Did you rob a Lannister?” She jested.

“I wish.”

You thought it was over once you gave her the coin, and so you tried to brush past her to go up the staircase. Only for her to catch your hand.

“Stay,” she said. “I feel like I haven’t properly spoken to you in ages.”

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can.” She laughed, pulling you around so she could see your eyes. “I’ll call in your little friend to make us cake.”

You sighed. “Sylvi-.”

“-She makes Northern Snow, right?”

“Sylvi-.”

“-You’ve done so well, I say you-.”

“-Can’t you just leave me alone?!”

You hated yelling; you felt like you would throw up every time you did. But she wouldn’t stop, you had to. Her smile dropped. Not in anger, not in sadness, but annoyance.

“Leave you alone to do what?” She challenged.

“I…” You glanced off to the side; there wasn’t anything there, you just didn’t want to look at her. Then, you finally did. “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to talk. I know that the arrangement between Prince Aemond and I upsets you-.”

“-You assume I’m jealous of you?”

“What else am I supposed to assume?”

“That I worry for you.” She cupped your cheek.

You pull away, laughing joylessly. “Why is everyone telling me that? You were with him for nights on end and never had anyone afraid for you.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Why? Why isn’t it the same.”

“You’re…you.”

You could only gawk at her; jaw loosely hanging. Deciding not to even grace her with a retort, you turned on your heel and rushed up the stairs.

“What would your mother think of you pleasuring the prince for free?” She asked.

Freezing where you stood, you didn’t even have the strength to turn and look at her. So, you forced yourself to stand taller. “What would my mother think of you stealing a child’s innocence?”

You were no longer in the mood to be kind.

She didn’t say anything for a bit. “His brother was the one to-.”

“‘-I don’t care if Viserys himself came into my brothel. I would be put to the sword before I let a man lay a hand on a child.’” You recited perfectly.

Sylvi breathed deeply, folding her hands. “King Aegon did not come in asking for a child, he came in with one; one I was not responsible for maintaining his honor-.”

“-But taking it.”

“What do you think will come from this?” She taunted. “Hm? Do you seek only carnal pleasure? Pleasure in knowing a Targaryen desires you? Or are you truly a foolish little girl? You think he’ll ask for your hand in marriage, only for him to place it around his cock!”

You still hadn’t turned to look at her. Tears pricked your eyes as you trembled with rage. Gripping the railing, you spoke coolly.

“It doesn’t matter what I seek from the Prince Regent. What matters is you keep your childish envy far from the both of us. Goodnight, Sylvi.”

When you got to the room, you didn’t give Aemond the time to ask what was wrong before you sealed your lips with his. He didn’t stop you.

There were more nights than not he would speak in High Valyrian as you shared your body with him. You giggled while he pressed kisses to your chest.

“You could be insulting me, and I wouldn’t even know it.”

He looked up at you, his mouth traveling lower. “Perhaps I should teach you then.”

Of course, you thought it was just him flirting; saying something tender and personal to make you feel good.

But then he brought you books the next night; books for children on how to learn the language properly, fictional stories in High Valyrian, and a dictionary from Common to High Valyrian. He had meant it.

“Gods above.” You breathed, laying on your stomach, flipping through the pages of a book. “I don’t think I’ve read so much.”

“Is it too much for you?” Aemond pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“No, I actually enjoy it.”

You felt the bed dip on each side of your thighs as he hovered above you. “I’ll take you to the Red Keep one day.” He teased his cock over the globes of your ass. “You cannot comprehend the library until you see it.”

Humming, you shut the book. “I would adore that.”

He hadn’t taken you to the Red Keep at all, and he never would.

It was one night (one damned, fucking night) that determined it.

“Skorkydoso glaesā?” You questioned, lying under the covers with him.

“Sȳz iksan, kirimvose. Se ao?”

“Glaeson.”

He furrowed his brow. “Skoro syt?”

You mirrored him, hesitating on your words. “Syrī tosh ao?”

Aemond stared at you before a grin spread wide across his cheeks.

“What?” You asked.

“You cannot hate my company that much.”

“What?!” You sat up in shock. “I told you I’m doing well because I’m with you!”

“Glaeson, you said. It means ‘Not well’. Glaesan means you’re well.”

Sighing, you laid down flat on the mattress. “I’m never going to get it.”

He traced his fingers over your stomach. “You won’t if you stop now. Again.”

“Can’t you read me one of those children’s books again? The one about the bird and the fish, or something.” You begged. “I’ll translate it.”

“If it gives you any peace of mind,” he kissed the tip of her ear. “you speak better than my brother.”

Huffing, you looked up at him. “May I make a request?”

“I’m not reading another story.”

“It’s not that, I swear.”

“Then what is it?”

“Let us never talk about family when either of us are naked.”

He turned you onto your side, hugging you from behind. “I’ll allow it.”

You relaxed against his bare chest, deciding to fill the air with your first thought. “I had three nightmares last night.”

“Three?” He sounded offput, but still brushed your shoulder with his lips.

“One right after the other. I thought I woke up, but I was still asleep.”

 “What happened in them?”

“I can’t really remember.” you curled your hand around his. “There were stacks of dirty laundry and chairs everywhere at some point. You were mean to me in one of them.”

“How was I mean?”

“You called me a cunt.”

“Well, you are.”

You shoved him off of you; not so roughly to hurt him, but not playfully.

He still chuckled. “But you have the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen.”

You scoffed. “Now you’re lying.”

Aemond placed his hand on your shoulder as he sat up, turning you to look at him. He said your name genuinely. “I mean it.”

A smile finally appeared on your lips, and you snickered, pushing him away jokingly this time. “How in the world have you not married yet when you say such loving things?”

He sat against the headboard. “I was meant to.”

“Oh…” Well…you weren’t exactly expecting that. “And why didn’t you?”

“I was betrothed to a Baratheon girl to secure alliance. After what happened, Lord Borros wasn’t so keen on letting me be near her.”

No one should blame you for not knowing how to properly respond right away. So, after some thought, you said. “Did you want to get married when you were younger?”

“Not much of something I imagined; I suppose you did though?”

You smiled shyly. “Gigi would read me her fictional novels; many were romance.”

“And you wanted a knight in shining armor to come and whisk you away from your dull life.”

“No, that was Gigi.” You sat up, grabbing a comb on the nightstand and began to run in through your hair. “I much preferred the quiet, knowledgeable boy who was outshined by the loud and brutish men.”

He hummed. There were rare moments like these where you could not see his gaze, but you knew how it burned into your skin. How, despite being given permission to, he held himself back from touching you.

“And which did your mother prefer?”

At the mention of her…you didn’t feel sad. Was this how you thought he was the one for you? How you didn’t feel like he was invading you whenever he asked about her? How you wanted to tell him about her?

“I’m actually not sure.” You looked at him, grinning. “I think she had to see all sides of men and stopped caring for them.”

“They can be ugly, I’m sure.”

You nodded, setting the comb down sitting up and resting your head on his shoulder, “They can, but a few of them aren’t so bad.”

“What do you remember most about her?” He asked.

A memory resurfaced sooner than you thought. “On the rare days she’d wash our clothes and bedding, she’d let me help. I’d get to stomp out the dirt, hit the clothes, but my favorite part was after she’d dry everything. Especially on a hot day when I was little, she’d come in and toss all of the blankets and towels on me; I’ve never felt anything warmer in my life.”

Aemond’s gaze drifted from you to the front of the room. “It must have been nice.”

You tilted your head. “Something’s bothering you. I won’t ask but-.”

“-He got away with it.”

“What?” You took your head off his shoulder to look at him properly.

He sighed. “When we were children, and I had claimed Vhagar, one of them wasn’t happy for me. She said that she was hers to claim because she had been her mother’s dragon. She attacked me, and the other three followed. I fought them off and tried to run, but they caught me. I had struck Jacaerys with a rock, and Luke had struck my eye with his blade.”

“Aemond…”

“I forgave him for it long ago.” He leaned farther back, sighing. “I understand why he felt the need to defend himself; I don’t forgive him for getting away with it…and my mother didn’t for so long.”

She hated him, you knew that already. It hadn’t been any of your business before, but now…

“My mama would’ve liked you.”

The words leave your mouth before you could stop them. That was when he finally looked at you, a smile threatening to show. “Why?”

“Well, you’re funny, and intelligent-.”

“-Oh, stop; but do go on.” He teased.

“And you know that I am more so those things than you are.”

He hummed. “I do?”

“Of course you do.”

“I rebuke this slander.”

 “Well, what is it you want me to say?” You laughed, dramatically tossing yourself back down onto the bed. “Oh Aemond, you’re foul and arrogant, but kiss me anyway because you have the most fearsome, biggest dragon in the-!”

He followed your order, leaning over and kissing your lips fully before caging you between in arms. “You should meet her one of these days.”

“Vhagar?” You chuckled. “She’d kill me.”

“Perhaps, but not until I take you up on her.”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not stepping foot on that dragon.”

“I command you to.”

“Oh!” You gasped in an attempt to taunt him. “Oh, you command me to?! What else will my Prince Regent command of me?”

He smirked, kissing the tip of your nose. “As we are in the sky, I will do unspeakable things to you.”

The words did not reach meaning as you heard them. Then, once they did, you began to laugh. No matter what Aemond said to you, you could not stop laughing.

“What is it?” He questioned.

You refuted. “I can’t say it.”

“Your Prince Regent commands you.”

Taking the deepest of breaths to relax yourself, you finally said. “The first time I ride a dragon, it will not be while I’m riding y-.”

His lips on yours silence you once again. Though this time, he wasn’t letting up; diving his tongue into your mouth as he began to place more of his weight on top of you. Before he could completely trap you, you tossed yourself over him, straddling and holding him down, panting.

“I wouldn’t mind it now; if you’re fine with that.”

He grinned like the devil, his hands squeezing your hips. “You can practice.”

Giggling, you took his cock in your hands and rose yourself up before sinking down onto him. You were still wet from earlier that night, so it didn’t take too long to readjust. Once you were fully seated, you rested your palms on his chest, beginning to move.

You switched between rolling your hips and bouncing on his cock. When you’d get tired, you’d lean back and let him chase his own pleasure, all the while, mumbling in his mother tongue.

“No, no.” You babbled, leaning forward and halting your motions. He cursed, but you remained still. “Let me hear you.”

Aemond called your name like he was praying; like he was begging for one of the Seven to hear him. He tried to move your hips himself, but you tore his hands off you, pinning them on each side of his head.

“When I move, you move.” You hissed, then said the next words slowly. “Let me hear you.”

He sucked in each breath, collecting himself before uttering. “Dīnilūks.”

Of course, it was something you didn’t know.

So, you merely kissed along his jaw. “Ñuho glaeso hūrus.”

He grunted when you jolted your hips forward at an uneven pace. Sitting up, Aemond held you against him with no space between you. He thrusted like a madman, sucking on the pulse point in your neck.

“Did-ah!-did I say it right?” You murmured, feeling a coil tighten in your stomach.

“Yes.” He breathed, grasping one of your tits. “Yes!”

A loud knock on the door bounced off the walls of the room, causing a sharp gasp to escape you.

Sylvi said your name. “Open the door, I need you for something.”

You immediately halted your movements, swallowing thickly. Sighing, you went to get off of Aemond, only for him to latch his arm around your hips.

“Keep going.”

You shook your head. “You know she’ll throw a fit.”

“I don’t care.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “Let her hear what I do to you, and I’ll let her hear what she couldn’t do to me.”

With quivering breath, you resumed the movement in your hips, pushing him back down onto the bed. Aemond fucked into you like a wild animal, almost throwing you off balance if not for digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Gods,” he moaned. “ñuha dijītsos, if you could see yourself…”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll make you-fuck-I’ll make you watch yourself one day.” He took your pearl between his fingers. “Watch how I penetrate you, how I desecrate you.”

Whining, you sped up your thrusts, the slapping of skin and the calling of his name from your lips drowning out anything that was not in the room.

You moved with him as best you could, leaning over him to press your lips to his as one of his hands moved to your backside, pulling you even closer. The sweat of your skin glued you to his chest, your thighs starting to cramp from kneeling.

“Ae-Ae-!” You grunted, feeling the burn both from your growing pleasuring and the pain in your legs.

“Give it to me.” He made a weak attempt to suppress his grunts.

Your orgasm hit you with both the suddenness and intensity of a screaming arrow. Vision blurring, your cries grew sharper as you rode it out, and all the while, Aemond was still thrusting up into your cunt. As you were beginning to come down, he let out a moan from his chest, releasing himself into you.

You collapsed fully onto him, it being your heavy breathing now harmonizing instead of your groans.

“What-what did you call me?” You kissed his heart. “I’m your dijistos?”

“Dijītsos.” He corrected, running his hand up your back. “You’re my little desire; although, the word is much cruder than that.”

“Little arousal then?”

“Exactly.”

You both stayed like that for less than you wanted to; again, the knocking on the door disturbing your peace. Sitting up, you pulled yourself off of him, hissing from the pain in your legs.

Aemond sat up. “I’ll get it.”

“No.” You grabbed his arm. “Just put my dress on. I have to look somewhat presentable.”

He reached down, grabbing the thin dress you always wore for your jobs. You placed your arms above your head as he slipped your dress over you.

“You know,” you began. “if I had it my way, I would say we should hide under the covers like children and pretend the rest of the world does not exist.”

Humming, he kissed your clavicle. “Perhaps one day we shall.”

You gritted your teeth once you got up, only then feeling Aemond’s spent travel down your leg. Still, you were high from the overall activity. Which is why you slammed the door open to greet Sylvi as if she still favored you.

“Ah, what a pleasant surprise!” You cheered. “What can I do for you, Madame?”

Her nostrils flared for a moment until she forced herself to relax. “Well, at least you look the part.” She shoved an empty jug into your arms. “Chansey found a man for you to seduce.”

You stared at her before chuckling. “I already did one an hour ago.”

“Two hours ago. This one is actually wealthy. Stupid too, so it shouldn’t be hard for you.”

Sighing, you knew there wasn’t any other way to get out of it. Yes, there was the Prince Regent behind you, but he didn’t seem to want to intrude for some reason. You foolishly shrugged it off.

“Okay, just let me pretty myself-.”

“-Please,” she interrupted, “he’s not looking for an innocent maiden. He’s looking for another warm place to put his cock.”

And she left you standing in the doorway. You glanced into the jug and saw your sheathed knife visible, along with a red ribbon, Sighing, you sat down against the wall and reached in to grab them. You soon felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Do you need help?” Aemond asked, crouching in front of you.

“Sure.” you sighed, hiking up your dress and laying your knife against your thigh. You held the ribbon up to him. “Tie it, please.”

He double knotted the ribbon, placing a kiss to your knee when he was finished. “I shall be here when you come back.”

You scoffed. “It’s getting late. Won’t the council be worried about where the Prince Regent is?”

“Precisely because I am, I choose to stay here. Do not keep me waiting.”

Kissing his cheek, you wished him farewell before rushing down the stairs and past all the couples and groups, pleasuring themselves with a newfound vigor.

The night felt a little darker that night. You didn’t know the exact time, but it wasn’t exactly the darkest hour of night you had gone out; at least, it wasn’t supposed to be. It was more likely you were growing tired and weary from exhausting prior activity as you trudged through the slim paths of King’s Landing.

You still managed to find the man you were meant to be looking for; stumbling around as if it was the first time he was ever drunk. With a sigh, you began to sing the same song, walking in the direction of the well you have come to know for years.

It wasn’t just your body that was weak; it was your voice. That night wasn’t the nicest you sounded, but it had got the job done. Sylvi had been right: It was easy.

Just with from the sight of your blade gleaming in the moonlight, the man cowered like a child, tossing a hefty sack at you.

You didn’t even touch him.

So, with a skip in your step, you rushed back to the pleasure house. You dropped off the money in Sylvi’s room and attempted to make yourself more presentable for Aemond. That being dropping one of the straps off your shoulder; there wasn’t much more you could do. With a smile on your face as you reached the door, you grabbed the handle and pushed it open.

There was a man in the room; a man that wasn’t Aemond.

“Ah, there you are.”

His grin was hideous, in fact, his entire self was. The look in his eyes as they ran over your body caused you to shrivel like a leaf. If it were any other night that you had found a stranger in a bedroom, you would’ve known exactly what to do.

Yet, tonight you were expecting your lover to be there; and he was nowhere to be seen.

“You have the wrong room, ser.” You deepened your voice.

“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t.”

He said your name.

How did he know your name?

“You’re not meant to be here.” You attempted to sound forceful, but instead, your voice wavered when he approached you. “I suggest you leave before the man I am expecting-.”

“-Comes back?” He interrupted. “The Prince Regent? Is that whom you speak of?”

Swallowing thickly, he was standing so close you could finally see him better. It was the same man that followed you as you were bleeding out; the man that left only when you stumbled upon Sylvi and Aemond.

You reached between your legs and whipped the knife out from under your dress. Unsheathing it once it was out, you dove the blade to his torso. He caught it as the tip reached his clothing.

“Who do you think told me to be here?” He taunted, squeezing your wrist.

Your foot met his shin, and he stumbled backwards, loosening his grip. With a yell, you rose your hand again and slashed his arm. He hissed, and you made the mistake of looking into his eyes. A fury you had never seen before washed over them.

He grabbed your wrist again, twisting it this time. A horrible crack was heard, and a cry ripped through your throat as you collapsed to your knees, dropping the knife. Gripping your hair, he forced you back to your feet before tossing you into the wall.

Falling onto your side after colliding with the wall, all of the wind had been knocked out of you. Just as you took a breath in, the man landed a kick to your ribs. He picked his foot up as you cried and kicked again.

As he tried to do so a third time, you released a growl, crawling to the knife on the floor. He picked it up just as it was in reach.

“How does a silly little cunt like you know how to use this? Woman at the Well?” He questioned, setting the blade on the bed.

You got to your knees despite how your body stung, and only was able to place one foot on the ground before his knuckles met your nose.

He snickered as you laid on your back, breathing unstable. “It’s not your style to give up, isn’t it?”

The man got onto his knees, essentially straddling you. He brushed his hand over your face, and little whines left your bloodied lips as you tried to push him away.

“Gods,” he sighed, moving one of the thin straps down your shoulder, exposing your breast to him.

“Stop.” You sniffled. “Please, stop!”

Wrapping his arms around your aching body, he brought your lips up to his and kissed you like you had never been kissed before. It was violent; hands tearing and grasping your dress, teeth dug into your flesh.

And you reciprocated.

You placed your hands upon his cheeks, attempting to respond with the same vigor. You pulled your lips away, pressing them to his cheek, then traveling downwards.

His chin.

His jaw.

His neck.

You lingered there, forcing out little noises of pleasure when his hand traveled up your thigh, dancing closer and closer to your center.

That was when you sunk your teeth into his throat. For just a moment of euphoria, he thought it was a love bite.

Then, an involuntary scream left his mouth.

Blood colored your teeth red as you bit into his skin until each little strand of flesh was torn off from his neck. He’d let go of you long ago, and you landed on your back from the force of pulling yourself away.

You watched as he crawled backwards, hand on his neck as he groaned out in agony. The adrenaline made it to your legs, letting you stand effortlessly. As if you were a spectator of your own body, you watched yourself spitting his own throat onto him, before picking the knife off of the bed.

Kneeling over his body, you jammed the blade into his neck.

Again

And

Again.

Red painted your body and dress like it was a canvas. It was almost impossible to find the color of your own skin when you were finished.

It was exhaustion that forced you to stop. You didn’t know what silence truly was until you did. You didn’t know when he stopped screaming, or when he had stopped breathing. When you were forced to sit down and catch your breath, did you only then realize you were alone.

You tasted blood and tears on your tongue as you whaled, your hands shaking so horribly the knife dropped without you knowing. The rest of your body slid to the floor, crying into the creaking wood.

As a puddle formed underneath you, you brought your head up, and something shimmered in your sight. Rubbing your eyes, you looked again, and saw something shine under the bed.

Crawling with what little strength you had, you reached for it, clutching something smooth with somewhat of a rough texture. Your breath stilled when you brought it out into the light.

Aemond's sapphire. The one that was in his eye and lost for weeks...under the bed the whole time.

“Seven Hells...”

You clutched the sapphire in your hand, snapping your head up at the voice. Once you saw Sylvi, wide-eyed and mouth hung open, you wept.

She dropped to her knees, taking off her shawl and wrapping it around you. She shushed you, caging you in her arms and pressing kisses on your face.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” She soothed as you tried to fight out of her hold. “You’re okay, I’m here.”

You finally gave into her embrace, tears and blood coating her neck as you buried yourself into it. She kissed your messy hair, squeezing you tighter and tighter until you squealed.

Sylvi loosened her hold. “I’m sorry. Sweetie, what happened?”

You blubbered your response. In your mind, you were forming words, but your mouth was doing otherwise. You had said something of ‘Aemond’ at some point, and that was when she spoke up.

“Aemond?” She repeated, and you nodded. Her eyes had grown impossibly larger than when she had first seen you and the man’s body. She said your name gently. “Gods above…I saw him leave and speak with another man but I-I hadn’t thought he…I’m so sorry.”

“He-he said he would,” you stammered out. “he said…”

He would wait for you to come back.

That was what he told you.

“I’m sorry.” Sylvi lamented, hugging you again.

You pulled away from her. “I-I want to go home.”

“Let me just get the healers to check you-.”

“-Mama,” you shivered. “she-she’s home by now.”

Sylvi took a quaking breath, saying your name again.

“I-I’ve never been out this late,” you forced yourself to stand. “I don’t want to worry her or-or Gigi.”

“You shouldn’t be walking right now.” She followed after you.

Everything was abnormal after she said that. You could hear her saying words, but your mind wasn’t letting you process what any of them meant. You stumbled your way down the stairs and out of the pleasure house; no one had stopped you.

 It was as if you were a babe again: learning to walk, and all the words around you were nothing more than babbles and strange sounds.

And no one had bothered you that night. You realize now that you were either extraordinarily lucky, or the Seven do exist.

When you made it back to your house, you hobbled in through the door and the living room; trying your best not to make a sound.

You thought about going into your mother’s bedroom, not minding the fact you would have to sleep in between her and Gigi…but your hand stained the door with blood once you touched it.

No, you weren’t going to dirty the bed; you and your mother had just cleaned the sheets. She’d be mad at you.

You tiptoed into your room, shut the door, and collapsed into your childhood bed.

The sapphire you had forgotten about dropped from your hand and onto the floor, but you didn't even hear it fall.

If you woke up tomorrow, than this was all just a bad dream.

GOTCHA BITCH!

No, this ISN'T the last part, I just overestimated how much I'd write and wanted to scare the shit out of you guys.

Also, you may be wondering: WTF is the timeline?

Well...I'm wondering too

High Valyrian

Gimin, gimin. Lykirī. Lykirī: “I know, I know. Be calm, be calm.”

Aōla renigon?: "Do you feel me?"

Skorkydoso glaesā?: “How are you?”

Sȳz iksan, kirimvose. Se ao?: “I am fine, thank you. And you?”

Glaeson: “Not well.”

 Skoro syt?: “Why?”

 Syrī tosh ao?: “I'm with you?”

Glaesan: “Well.”

Dīnilūks: “Marry me.”

Ñuho glaeso hūrus: “Moon of my life.”

Ñuha dijītsos: “My little desire.”

[anyarose011]

"Crawling Back to You" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: It started with a night out in King's Landing, then a fake name, and then a disagreement. Some time after cooling off, and after a job gone wrong, you and the one-eyed prince come to...an understanding in the rain.

Part 2 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Oral sex (f and m receiving), nudity, groping, talk of death, swearing, canon-typical injury, sexual harassment (not done by Aemond), and mention of past child SA

Heyyyyyy pookies. So I just started my senior year and it's been hectic. BUT I hope this long ass chapter (it took me forever) makes up for it! I'm also not sure how accurately I'm writing Aemond. I mean, I know HBO is making him into the edgiest edge lord, but I'm taking creative liberties i guess. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 8.5k

 “It’s a pleasure to finally put a name to your face. One that fits its beauty.” He smiled.

You lowered your gaze, fighting the smile on your lips. It was a stupid compliment, one that you had heard several variations of the rare times men would flirt with you those days. But…it felt different from him.

Still, you merely scoffed, setting the jug on your hip. “Do you want to lead the way, or should I?”

“Go ahead; considering you believe I’ll harm you somehow.”

“See?” You decided to tease instead of defy as you began to walk up the cobbled hill. “You are funny.”

Aemond scoffed, following you. “Did I ever deny it?”

“How you reacted when I first said it never gave me a clear answer.”

“Shouldn’t you change?”

You looked back at him. “What?”

Unashamedly, his eye trailed over your body and yours soon followed. Your nipples were perking through the thin material of the dress.

“Seven Hells.” You cursed, bringing the jug in front of yours.

Aemond came to your side, a hand on your back and leading you up the hill. “You don’t wear a corset?”

“Not with this. I’m meant to lure lustful men, remember?”

“Perhaps you can tell me where you tailor so we can get more appropriate clothing?”

Hell no.

“Or,” you suggested. “I could teach you how to properly steal something?”

“You need to be able to not draw attention to yourself to do that.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“I have no doubt, but the clothing off a man’s back?”

You paused for a moment before replying. “Yes, actually; I even managed all of one’s undergarments.”

Aemond shook his head, pulling his hood farther up to hide his smile. “I mean more so with that dress.”

“It might surprise you, but that is how I robbed him blind.”

“I mean in the sense that-.”

“-I understand.” You shut him up, but not aggressively. The two of you passed by more and more people through the many alleys of King’s Landing. When you got to the main roads, you would’ve lost Aemond in the crowd if it weren’t for the fact his hand had traveled from your back to your arm.

Maybe it was because he was paying you, or maybe it was because you didn’t know how touch starved you had been until it felt like his hand was simultaneously burning and soothing you; but you welcomed his touch.

As you continued to brave through the busyness of the city, you managed to spot a hobbling man wearing a long cloak with a drink in his hand. You smirked at your companion.

“Are you watching?”

He nodded, and how he looked you up and down briefly didn’t escape you. “I’m watching.”

You handed him the jug of water and approached the slightly incapacitated man. You pitched your voice up when you asked. “Ser?”

The man glanced up at you through hooded eyes, and he grunted in response.

“Are you alright?” You feigned concern, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to hold him up.

“Aye.” He sighed. “Much better now that you’re here.”

You giggled, leading him. “You’re too kind.”

“If it’s possible, could that kindness be repaid?”

“Let me at least have your name first,” you turned him down a spacious alleyway where there were less people. “Then I will know what to scream.”

“Gaius. You may-oi!”

You snatched the cloak right off his shoulders and took off in a mad dash down the rest of the alley. Turning your head over your shoulder for merely a second, you were graced to watch as the drunk man stumbled over his own footing before two hands in front of you grabbed your arms. Once you were pulled around the corner, you raised your hands to strike your assailant; to which he caught both of them.

“Is it truly that easy to rob Smallfolk?” Aemond asked, not letting go of your wrists.

Snickering, you pulled away from him. “I thought you said you were watching me?”

“I was.”

“Clearly not.” You slipped the cloak over your body, tying it. “You were lurking in the shadows.”

“I still saw you.” He retorted.

Shaking your head, you bent down and picked up your jug of water on the ground. Then, you stuck your hands into the pockets of the cloak. Your face lit up, and your retracted your hand, holding four pennies in your palm.

“Come with me.” Was all you said before walking past him and continuing down the street.

Aemond was by your side once more. “And where exactly are you taking me to?”

“Are you fond of sweets?”

“I enjoy them, but rarely indulge.”

“Then I will be more of a temptress tonight without having to show any of my skin.” You said excitedly.

All the prince did was smile; somehow trusting your ‘madness’. It was a short walk from where you were to a small stand in one of the several market corners of King’s Landing. Despite the long line, you pushed to the front, ignoring all of the comments and curses from the people.

“Evening, Marija.” You greeted the older woman. “Oh my, has someone bewitched you? You look younger!”

“What do you want?” She sighed your name tiredly, but a pleasant smile was on her features.

Sliding the four pennies onto the counter, you said. “Two dishes of Northern Snow.”

“Do you have two other pennies?”

“This was all I was paid.” You sighed. “You know how short everyone is on coin.”

“Precisely why I need every bit of what is owed to me.”

Shaking your head, you lowered your voice. “Do you see the man lingering behind me? The one with one eye.”

She glanced over your shoulder for just a moment, long enough for it to look like an accident and not a stare. “Yes?”

“He’s a rich lord from Essos,” You began the lie with a truth. “and he has fallen in love with me.”

“You have always told marvelous tales, but even for you-.”

“-Marija…I have a good feeling about him.” You spoke with more insistence. “You know that doesn’t happen very often.”

The older woman looked at you for a little longer, as if to try and pick apart your deceit. Then, when she could find no trace of it, she sighed heavily. Still, she brought out two small vanilla cakes and laid them on the counter, then brought out the bowl of puffy cream.

“You better invite me to this extravagant wedding of yours.” She frosted the cakes with the cream, creating a fluffy topping that looked as if it was true snow itself. Marija then drizzled melted chocolate over both cakes before handing them to you. “Considering this handsome stranger is wealthy.”

“He is strange.” You chuckled. “A bit arrogant too, but I shall live.”

“All men are arrogant.”

“You have not met this one. Thank you, Marija.”

“Sure, sure,” she scoffed. “Give me your water as well; I’m parched.”

“Only if you give me the jug back. I need it.”

“I’ll come around tomorrow and visit Yelena in the meantime, is that alright?”

Your smile fell for just a moment, before forcing it back. “Sounds great!”

Rushing away, you could barely hear her goodbye before you soon found Aemond again, handing him the dish. His nose wrinkled as you immediately sunk your fork into the pastry. “What is this?”

“Northern Snow.” Your answer was somewhat muffled by the amount of food in your mouth. “Marija’s traveled across the realms and has been popular for her desserts. The snow is just whipped cream with sugar and some rosewater.”

“The brown parts?” He poked the treat.

“Chocolate, but it’s meant to look like horse droppings.”

“I believe I’ll pass.”

You shook your head. “I’m meant to be showing you around the joys of the city that is not just brothels. Trust me.”

He matched your seriousness. “And if I find it revolting?”

“Then you may know where I tailor.”

Humming, he smiled as he dug his fork into the cake and then into his mouth. He pursed his lips together as you watched him ponder the taste. Then, he shook his head, taking another bite.

“You must be a witch to have known I would favor it.”

Smiling victoriously, the two of you walked a short while through the congested market until you managed to find two chairs and a table.

“What did you tell her?” He asked as you sat. “The woman who made this?”

“That you were Prince Aemond and would have my head if I did not serve you a Smallfolk delicacy.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” You agreed, taking a bite of your treat. You hesitated on your next words. “I…she’s a romantic, and I didn’t have enough for the cakes, so I told her you were a rich lord courting me.”

It was nice you didn’t immediately expect him to lash out or condemn you to your death; he seemed genuinely composed every time you were with him, and he stuck to that.

“And what was my name?” He humored.

“I didn’t tell her one.” You teased. “If you were not yourself, what would you have wanted to be called?”

He hummed, taking time for an answer before settling on. “Ciarán.”

“I’ve met one or two of those.” You nodded. “It’s a good name.”

“Might I ask you a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Do you summon your knife out of thin air, or do you hide it in your cunt?”

Choking on your food, you placed your hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Once you were alright, you finally looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“The rumors I’ve heard of you isn’t just about your beauty.” He grinned, knowing the effect on you. “It’s known that you assault men with a blade, but I’ve heard conflicting accounts.”

You stared at him for a little longer before shaking your head, snorting. “Inside of my thigh, like a normal person. You nearly grazed it the first night.”

“Did I?” He tilted his head to the side.

Nodding, you smirked as you took another bite. It was then that his eye darkened just a hint. “What?”

Aemond didn’t verbally respond. Instead, he bunched up the sleeve of his shirt, reached over to take your face into his free hand, and wiped the corner of your lip with his sleeve. “You had something white on your face.”

It was your turn to hum at his statement, continuing to eat; yet, you would glance at him more often while you slid the fork into your mouth, tongue trying to lick the utensil clean of the whipped cream. You both finished up in silence between each other, yet the people around you only chatted excitedly, laughed boldly, or moaned and fucked one another in the dingiest of places nearby.

“Is it fun to be a prince?” You asked, pushing in your chair when you bother stood to leave.

“I wouldn’t call it such.” Aemond shrugged, following suite, and the two of you were wandering aimlessly once again.

“Then what is it you do for fun?”

“I find myself in the library often; reading, studying the history.” He listed. “I train with Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Hand of the king.”

“You sound like you enjoy his company.”

“I enjoy making him falter as we spar.” He looked at you. “You mustn’t be so horrible in combat. On account of you supposedly taking men’s lives for bounties.”

Shaking your head, you place your hands in the pockets of the cloak. “I don’t take pride in it. I’ve also had my fair share of bruises and broken bones.”

“How many have you killed?”

“How many have you?”

Your response would’ve only worked if it had not been for the well-known fact he had killed Lucerys; something you had forgotten when you saw him again. Now, there you both were, your pace slowing equally in the silence that was the discomfort you had created.

Still, he responded. “Only one; and I assume you along with the rest of Westeros knows who by now.”

Nodding, you kept your eyes down on the road in front of you.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I did it?” He questioned.

You shook your head. “It’s not my place. If you wish to tell me, then tell me. If not, then I believe it’s your turn to ask something about me.”

Humming, he prodded. “Again, how many men have you killed?”

“The same as you.” You stood closer to him as a crew of rowdy men began to pass by. “He was an angry man; a ratcatcher fired from his profession, and to my luck, with no family or anyone to miss him.”

“It must have been his luck as well, considering what happened to all of them merely a week ago.”

You didn’t want to acknowledge the gate into that conversation. “I had only done the luring and thievery for a single moon; the worst I had come across was a bloodied nose and a bruised rib. This night…Chansey had warned me not to pursue him, but I was young and ignorant. I didn’t even get to the well before he came up behind me and…”

This was far too intimate of a story to tell someone you had only met twice; nonetheless, one of the princes of Westeros. You decided to end it as soon as possible. “He didn’t hurt me in the way you’re thinking. We struggled against one another, I had no knife with me at the time, but he did. He dropped it as we fought, we both reached for the blade, and I got it first.”

The two of you had somehow wandered into a small, quiet square; perhaps only a few other people resting from a drunken bender. Aemond, with his hands behind his back, simply inquired.

“Did he have anything of value on him?”

Shaking your head, you grinned. “Three pennies, a half-penny, and a surprisingly clean red scarf.”

“And the scarf was the most priceless.”

“Of course. I would’ve died in the winter without it.”

You both chuckled, and it was him who halted the walking. You stopped in front of him a few places.

 “I hadn’t meant to kill Luke.” Aemond admitted softly.

“Lucerys?” You clarified.

“Yes; only frighten him.” He sighed. “It…it was an unfortunate outcome to what I had intended.”

If he were not himself (perhaps the rich Lord Ciarán he wished to be for that one night), then you would have told him it did not matter what he intended. A boy was dead and that put all of Westeros at risk. Still, whilst your anger was present, you understood you would never know what happened that day. You also understood his regret above all; you had no right to act like a saint.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You genuinely had no idea how to respond to him. So, you did what your mother had done for you whenever you were upset as a child: Ask what you needed from her.

His eye met yours, and you somehow found the courage to not look away from him. After what felt like a lifetime, he approached you suddenly and gradually wrapped his arms around you. Your body was akin to a corpse with how frozen you had become. Still, it didn’t last for long as you found yourself easing into his hold, your own arms around his neck. The night was so quiet, you could hear his shallow breaths in your ear.

Then, his hand slipped into your pocket.

At the sudden change of touch, you flinched out of his touch, but he merely shushed you, pulling away fully. You reached into the pocket and pulled out what he had promised you; three silver moons.

Swallowing thickly, you looked up at him and saw…an array of emotions you could not describe. So, you spoke first.

“I…I hope tonight was enough for you. I’m not sure what else I-.”

“-It was nice.” He interrupted, his gaze still on you. “Lovely, even.”

Nodding, you pocketed the moons and kept your hands at your side. “I bid you a goodnight, Little Prince.”

He rose his brow. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to call me that.”

“Will you have my head then, your grace?” You taunted.

“I should.” He walked closer to you. “But I won’t. What direction is your house?”

Your heart leapt; yet, not in the way it should have after an attractive man (you would later admit) made a forward remark.

“Oh no, I will not bother you.”

“It is not a bother if I desire to see you home safely.” He argued.

“Aemond,” you stepped back, not wanting to play a game. “I don’t want you to walk with me for the rest of the night.”

The quietness returned; but, not one of comfort. He didn’t look angry, and that was what frightened you. He merely stood tall like a man.”

“I see.”

“I didn’t mean to say it so-.”

“-Yet you said it.”

Shaking your head, you tried again. “I offended you, and I’m sorry. My house is no place for anyone other than myself and-, not even other smallfolk.”

“I wouldn’t go inside if that is what worries you. I am merely curious.”

“Look,” you approached him again, only for him to step away. “if you wish to see me again, I wouldn’t mind at all-.”

“-As long as I have coin.”

Your face went blank for a few seconds you had been so shocked by his words, and soon formed a scowl. “You had offered.”

“You didn’t reject it.”

All you could do was laugh. “You-!”

He wasn’t the one to cut you off, it had been yourself. Taking a deep breath, you folded your hands over your mouth to ponder your next words. You were tired, frustrated, and wanted to go home. So, you did exactly that.

“Be safe on your journey back to the Red Keep.” Was all you said, and you brushed past him, expecting him to call you a nasty name, or chase after you again.

But, like the first night you had met him: He did nothing.

A week later, you were back where you’d always been at night: Sylvi’s brothel. As you prettied yourself, the girls were restless; not with enthusiasm for the clients, but for the talk of war. Whether it was the fear of death it would bring, or the lust for strong men to take comfort inside of a woman.

You were a part of the former. Not as horrible as some girls (you found one vomiting up her dinner after the discussion), but you had to admit you were judgmental of those excited about it. You yourself had never experienced war…but if it was just a smidge like the violence you and other women had ever suffered multiplied by a thousand…it wasn’t something you were looking forward to.

Later, you waited in Sylvi’s private quarters (the one place no one is allowed to go during work hours unless she permitted it) until it was Chansey who came, saying she had quarry for you.

She had been with an older, retired member of the Lannister guards. He was three and fifty, she told you; fucked like an animal, but when it was over, while he desired to do it again, his body ached so horribly he could only walk.

It was meant to be easy…but for any reason at all, it wasn’t that night.

You stumbled as you brought your knife out, and he unsheathed a dagger from his side. You fought and fought, it almost being like a twisted dance; he’d strike, you’d doge, and vice versa. He swiped against your side, and it stung but you had no time to even seethe in pain as he brought his blade up to stab you again.

He’d gotten tired sooner than you imagined, and you grabbed onto his sleeve, then dragging him into a handful of barrels nearby. He landed in a crash, and he wasn’t getting up. He was still breathing as you looted him. A few Coppers and a silver Stag.

It was only then, as you pushed your way through the boisterous crowds, that you felt your head begin to lighten, and your side grow heavy. Looking down at the gnawing pain, you saw crimson soak your thin gown. Oh…you were wounded.

“Chansey?” You called out over the groaning of whores and their patrons once you made it back to the brothel. The lights seemed dimmer than usual, and with one hand keeping pressure on your wound, you used your other to tap the shoulder of the nearest server.

She gasped upon seeing you. “What happened?”

“Where’s Chansey?” You asked.

“She-she’s with someone.”

“Seven Hells, already?!” Sighing, you took one of the chalices off her tray. “Fuck it, I’ll do it myself.”

And you took it in one gulp. The server gaped at you as you took another one, also downing it like it was water. “Thank you.”

Her voices of worry were once again drowned out by the sound of constant pleasure from every corner of the brothel. Now, what the server did not tell you, was that it wasn’t the cheap wine usually served to the common payer; no…it was incredibly rich, and incredibly strong.

It also didn’t help you barely ate or drank water that day. So, to no one’s surprise but yours, you were stumbling through the entire pleasure house.

“Needle and thread?” You slurred, pulling open one of the curtains abruptly only to see five naked women lying next to two men. “Sorry.”

You felt the blood begin to seep through the small cracks of your fingers and your pressure wavering as you made your way to the next curtained area.

“Do you have a needle and thread?” You asked again, being welcomed by Valda laying on her back with a man’s head between her legs.

She screamed at your intrusion and cried your name. “What the fuck?!”

“Hey,” in your haze, you found it amusing. “do you know where Chansey is?”

“Get out!”

“Okay, okay.” you whistled at the man. “Good ser, I do declare that you are a gift from The Seven because only They know how many men actually come here to-.”

“-Wait, are you bleeding?!” She sat up in alarm.

You left immediately, taking deep breaths to try and remain upright as you continued your search. A hand grazed your shoulder.

“Are you alright, girl?”

A putrid looking man questioned with a toothy grin as you turned briefly to see who touched you. You nodded. “I’m fine, go away.”

“Hey now,” he tried to make a grab for you again, but you shoved him off. “don’t be like that.”

“I’m dying, I think I can be.”

“Let me give you a little death.” He flirted.

You grabbed the nearest curtain, tossing it aside. “For fuck’s sake, does anyone have a-?!”

Words failed as you gazed upon Madame Sylvi sucking the cock of a standing man. It was then that your eyes traveled up his body, and saw a familiar, silver-haired prince.

A prince with one eye shut, and a sapphire where an eye-patch should have been.

Your mouth ran dry at the sight of him falling apart in whimpers, and it dropped once his eye opened and immediately went to yours.

Aemond released a loud groan, tossing his head back as cum dripped through the creases of Sylvi’s mouth. She drew herself away from him, still on her knees, wiping her mouth and looking over at your interruption.

“What in the devil’s name are you doing here?!”

Your words fell into syllables as you genuinely had no idea what to say. Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw the man that had been following retreat.

“Hey!” You yelled, hobbling after him. “You sheep fucker, get back here!”

Two hands grabbed your shoulders and turned you around sharply, causing a reminder of the wound in your side. You hissed, clutching it and trying to smother a cry. You kept your head low as the person who had manhandled you led you back into Sylvi’s small room. You were laying on the pillows and thin mattress. It was then you saw Aemond Targaryen hovering above you.

“No-!” You tried to push him away.

“-Calm down.” He insisted, restraining you. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“If you touch me, I’ll carve out your other eye and feed it to your mother.” You slurred.

Instead of killing you right there, he thinned his lips. “While I don’t doubt that, you shouldn’t need to worry; I’m well spent.”

You gagged, shutting your eyes in disgust and tossing your head further into the pillow you rested on. You felt a presence soon beside you, and you opened your eyes to see Sylvi.

“My prince,” she turned to Aemond. “please wait in my personal quarters and I’ll-.”

“-I’ll hold her down.” He interrupted. “She’s a fighter, if you don’t know.”

“Believe me,” she unscrewed a bottle of alcohol. “I do.”

Sylvi hiked up your dress, completely exposing you from the waist down, and poured liquid over your side, causing a squeal to escape your throat. In an attempt to not just remain calm for yourself and everyone else in the building, you did your best to stifle your cries. It only became harder to do once Sylvi stuck a needle in your skin.

That was when you instinctively rose yourself up, only for Aemond to force you back down, putting his entire weight upon you. Your hands traveled up to his bare shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin and even scratching in an animalistic attempt to get him off of you.

Tears welled in your eyes as you took in quivering breaths and suppressed your grunts in pain. It looked like everything was underwater, and you could barely make out the face of the man above you. You only saw the shimmering jewel where his left eye should’ve been.

Then, the pain was over.

Your heartbeat began to slow down, and it was no longer the only sound in your ears. Your body rose momentarily as you felt bandages being wrapped around your waist, and your dress finally lowered, covering your nakedness. You felt a warm hand brush your face gently before it pulled away abruptly.

“What did you do now?” Sylvi sighed, tossing her materials away.

You groaned, unable to move. “Bad job.”

“And so, you decided to come and bother me?”

“Chansey was fucking someone and I-.”

“-Watch your words!” She lightly slapped your face and whispered fiercely. “Prince Aemond is here, and I will not have you speak like that.”

You laughed, glancing over at Aemond, who had put his pants on, and was working on his shirt. “Do you hear that, Aemond? I can’t say ‘fuck’!”

“Are you drunk?” She hissed.

“Nooooo.” You trailed off before giggling.

Sylvi stood, placing her head in her hands and shaking her head. Now noticing how strange the whole situation was, you pushed yourself up. Your body was scalding, but you would rather die walking away from embarrassment than in the heat of it.

“He had some coin.” you sat up. “I don’t know where it went, but I’ll find it. I have to go home now.”

“You are not walking out like this.” She pushed you back down.

“I’m not sleeping here.”

“I’ll take her back.”

The prince stood tall, slipping his patch over the sapphire. Sylvi shook her head. “No.”

“Are you questioning my authority, Madame?” He challenged.

You watched her flinch. Then, taking a breath she explained. “You needn’t bother with her; she’s a humble, little thing that doesn’t listen to anyone other than herself. Besides, you requested and paid for two hours, yet you have only used twenty min-.”

“-I will gladly spend the rest of it escorting her home.”

Again, the only sounds being heard was skin slapping alongside loud moans outside. You looked in between the prince and the Madame as if you were a child being fought over. So, coughing, you sat up again.

“Can I wear my own clothes, please?”

Sylvi, for the first time that night, coddled you. “Of course. Aemond, could you tell the first girl you see to fetch her clothes from my quarters, please?”

He nodded, leaving you two alone. When he was out of sight, she brushed the hair sticking against your sweaty face.

“Tell him you changed your mind, and you’re too weak to walk.” She begged.

“And if he says he’ll carry me?”

She scoffed. “He won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sylvi kissed your cheek as if to soothe you. “I don’t want you to be alone with him.”

“He told me he already had his fill of cunt.”

“Men can still hurt little girls without their cock.”

“Take a look at me,” you sassed. “don’t you think I already know that?”

She said your name softly. “He’s not as kind as he seems.”

“No, he’s not. He acts like he’s been born out of an ass’ ass. I mean…how you feel about the Dowager Queen-.”

Slamming a hand over your mouth, she spoke in your ear. “-Not another word from you. You listen to me; I’ve come to know him for the years I’ve spent with him longer than the weeks you have had with him.”

“If he’s so horrible,” you took her hand away. “then tell me what he has done.”

“He-.”

“-Never mind, I don’t care.”

Instead of stepping into the room, Aemond had tossed your set of clothes through the curtains, landing on the floor. Without words, but with looks that could kill, Sylvi helped dress you and then led you out of the brothel.

It was downpouring, and while your clothes thankfully covered almost every inch of your skin, save for your face, you weren’t in the mood to be bathed in rainwater. Sylvi hadn’t even wished you a proper goodbye; just nodded to a hooded Aemond beside you and went back inside.

“I assume you can walk?” He asked, almost annoyed at his own idea to walk you home.

“You’re not going to carry me?” You teased.

“No.”

Sighing dramatically, you took a few steps out into the rain, and immediately felt agonizing pain. Well, not as bad as earlier, but it hurt. Still, you decided to follow the best given advice: Walk it off.

“Stop, stop.” Aemond shook his head after you limped four more steps, coming to your side. “Lean against me.”

You didn’t argue, draping your arm over his shoulders. You both walked as quick as you could in the rain, you giving him directions the best you could (he had to turn around twice to go back to the same fork in the road) until you tapped his shoulder.

“Wait-wait, I don’t feel good.”

“Seven Hells.” He cursed, pulling you over to the side of the street. Grabbing your hands he placed them on the nearest wall, standing behind you to guide you.

“Hey, hey!” You rose your voice. “Don’t-don’t you even think of hiking my skirt up!”

“You’re going to smell like death in a moment, why would I ever-?”

“-Because men are…are…”

You gagged, and Aemond’s hands immediately vanished as you threw up what little you had eaten that day. Your throat was on fire the whole time, making the chill of the rain even more apparent.

“Oi!” An older man yelled. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

You nodded, wiping your mouth and turning over to look at him standing in a doorway of his shop. “Yes, thank you!”

“Do you know that man with you?”

Before Aemond could say anything, you pat his shoulder affectionately. “I’ll have you know, this is Lord Ciarán of House…Strong…Man, Strongman. He’s one of the richest men in Westeros.”

“Is that so?” He nodded, then looked at your companion. “Lad, do yourself a favor and put your old lady to bed.”

Aemond forced a smile, taking your arm and returning it back to its proper place over his shoulder. The two of you were on the road again, you leading him blindly throughout the streets. The rain felt nice at this point; not exactly, but your throat had been parched, so most of the time, you were holding your mouth up and tongue out like a child to catch the rainwater.

At one point, he hissed in pain, his hand coming up to his eyepatch.

“What is it, what’s wrong?!” You gasped.

“Nothing.” He cursed. “’Just keep going.”

Reluctantly, you carried on through King’s Landing until you reached your home.

“Okay, we’re here.” You stopped him a few minutes later.

Aemond looked at the building before him; it was a bouchère. “Here?”

“No, down there.”

He followed your gaze, and sure enough, there was a set of stairs to the side leading down. Carefully, you both scaled down the steps, and entered your home.

There was no leaking anywhere, to your surprise. With only the little amount of light within the sitting room, you knew Aemond (even with one eye) could see just how much dust there was on the furniture.

“Hells,” he sighed heavily, slipping off his cloak before you could stop him. “how do you live in this humidity? I can barely breathe.”

“I-.”

“-Vivi.” A sweet, tired voice called for you.

In the corner of the room, in her usual chair, was your grandmother. Her eyes drew up to the door once you entered, and they were alight.

“I thought you were out for too long.” She stood.

“Evening, Gigi.” You staggered over, embracing her. “And how was holding down the fort?”

“Some mice almost came in, but I showed them who was the boss around here.”

“I’m sure you did.”

It was only then did she fully realize there was someone else with you; a man. A man with silver hair. She gasped, turning back to you.

“Siobhan, you didn’t tell me the king was visiting!”

You cackled. “Gigi no, this is my friend-.”

She gently took his hand into hers, kissing it. “-Your grace, you must forgive my dear girl; she has a knack for getting into trouble, but not for telling me things.”

And then, Aemond did something you weren’t expecting. He placed his other hand over your grandmother’s, smiling.

“All is forgiven.”

Her grin was contagious as she pulled her hand away to hike her long skirt up, walking to the kitchen. “Oh, I shall make tea! Imagine what Cassian would think?” She chuckled. “Jaehaerys himself in our house!”

The name she uttered sobered you up; not all of you, but enough for terror to return into your body. Once she was out of sight, with a growing fear in your eyes, you looked at Aemond.

“You-you must understand, she hasn’t been herself since I was a child. I don’t think she’s even aware there is-was another-.”

“-I’m not a fool.” He stopped you. Noticing you had the face of someone who would vomit for the second time that night, he said. “I told you; I enjoyed reading the histories. I’m well aware the king before my father was Jaehareys.”

Feeling as if you could breathe again, you rested against the wall. “Thank you.”

Aemond hummed. “Why ‘Gigi’?”

“She never liked me calling her ‘Grandmama’.”

“And who’s Siobhan?”

Your eyes drew to the ground. No mice were in the house, but a few spiders had made their way in. “My mother.”

“Ah.” Was all he could manage.

“She uh, she died when I was one and ten; that’s when Gigi…”

“How?”

“What?”

“How did she die?”

Something clogged your throat, and your head felt heavy all over again. Swallowing the lump, you tried to find the words to-.

“-Forgive me. “Aemond spoke. “I shouldn’t have prodded.”

“No, you-.” You shook your head. “I understand your curiosity.”

And there you two were, against the wall in silence. Sighing you finally said.

“She forgets what she was meant to do when she enters a room with a purpose.” You explained. “I guarantee you, she’s doing a puzzle instead of making tea. We don’t have the best leaves anyway.”

He nodded. “Do you wish for me to leave, then?”

Your eyes went to one of the only windows in the house; the long, thin panel at the top where you could see the feet of everyone in King Landing if it were a nice day. The rain came down harsher, the spattering of water being almost too loud.

“You can stay until the storm eases,” you answered. “if you want.”

“I would prefer it.”

Nodding, the heaviness of your head did not cease, and your eyes drifted to the doorway in the back of sitting room. You made your way through it, glancing back at Aemond.

“If I may be candid, I’m quite exhausted. So…unless you’d prefer being called ‘Your Grace’ by my grandmother, then you’re more than welcome to talk with me in my room.”

“Hm, the former sounds tempting.” Despite his words, he followed close behind you.

You pushed open your door, took a few steps towards your bed, and lowered yourself to lie down with a sharp wince. The prince took his time observing your room, taking in every little detail. From the residue of a mess being pushed under your bed, to old childhood art pieces up on the wall.

One piece had caught his eye the most. A sketch of a woman’s face; a haunting gaze in her eyes that would make anyone believe she was watching them.

Much like yours…

“This is Siobhan?”

Better to use your mother’s name as if she were a stranger instead of calling her ‘your mother’.

“Gigi drew that.” You smiled lightly. “It was on one of her namedays.”

“It’s beautiful.”

His compliment unnerved you before it flattered you. You deflected with a joke. “Beautiful enough to have her paint the Targaryens the next time they so desire it?”

“If she cannot remember to boil tea-?”

“-She is herself again when she does or speak of things she loves.” You sat farther up against the wall behind your bed “Even if they’re things that no longer are with us.”

He sat at the edge of the mattress. “And what are some of those things?”

Oh, where to start? As your mind rattled over what exactly to say first, you truly looked over Aemond for the first time. It was strange; you had acknowledged his attractiveness for just a moment, but never delved more into it.

Then, as you stared at him, you knew exactly what to tell him.

Giggling, you began. “Cassian was my grandfather; I hadn’t known him, he died before I was born. Still, if it’s not him she speaks about being in love with, it’s ‘Elio’; a Dornish man, her first love.”

“Some might say they are far greater than the one you marry.” He shrugged.

“She’s never told me his real name.” You leaned forward. “She said that he had to keep it secret from her for a long time, and he only told her after she got drunk, and he thought she wouldn’t remember.”

The two of you laughed lightly, and you kept going through your giggles. “He-he was only in King’s Landing for a year and went back to Sunspear. They would send ravens to each other, but then he stopped one day. She married my grandfather, had my mother, he died, and that was life.”

“And then there was you.”

You nodded, thinning your lips. “And then there was me.”

“You’ve talked about your mother, but you haven’t mentioned your father yet.”

Sighing, you rubbed your finger into the blanket you rested upon, looking away from him. “When my grandfather’s heart gave out, Gigi had to take on more work at the tailor’s and they still weren’t making enough for food. So…my mother took up working with Sylvi. She was fifteen, and Sylvi only let her cook and clean. When she was of age, she let her go to bed with the men for her coin. I could’ve walked past my father, and I wouldn’t be able to know.”

Aemond stared at her, nodding. “You’re a bastard.”

“It’s the one time I enjoy being smallfolk.” You shrugged. “I can just as easily lie and say my father died while married to my mother.”

“No one else knows?”

“Sylvi and Marija; the woman who gave us Winter Snow.” You scoffed. “Some old neighbors who’ve thankfully died, but I still remember their insults as I passed by them when I was just a child.”

He hummed, and you did not blame him for not saying anything after you. The two of you just existed in your childhood bedroom, the rain still beating against the roof, but not quite as hard this time.

“What were you like when you were a boy?” You questioned.

“Not like my brother or nephews.” He answered right away. “They…teased me a lot.”

“I’ve never had brothers or sisters, but aren’t they meant to?”

“Not like how they did.”

Oh…so it was bad. You wouldn’t ask him how horrible it was, knowing that there are some things no one would ever want to speak of.

“I’m sorry they did.”

He shook his head. “No need, it was years ago.”

“It was still wrong.”

Aemond didn’t say anything; didn’t even look at you. Then, for some reason…you felt compelled (maybe even okay) to tell him. “My mother she…died the same way my grandfather did.”

“His heart.”

“We-we think so. It’s strange though; she was so young, and just one night we were eating dinner, she stands to go tend to the fire…and she fell. It…it was as if her soul had been sucked away from her and all that was left was her body.”

“And you think you’ll die like her.”

Swallowing thickly, you had hoped he didn’t see right through you about that; but at the same time…how freeing it felt to be seen even in the most shameful and terrifying moments of life.

“She was the main provider for our house.” You went into more detail. “Gigi tried her best, but it wasn’t enough. My mother…Sylvi hasn’t told me everything she did to earn enough coin, and I don’t think I want to know. Many healers have said that people dying from a bad heart at such a young age is due to stress. I don’t know if they’re right, and even when I was one and ten, I did everything in my power not to feel so, but Gigi would wander around King’s Landing late at night, or we couldn’t afford food for days on end…”

You were vomiting all of your troubles onto him, it was disgusting; but, once you started, you couldn’t stop. The storm had picked up again, and from how the wind shook the walls of your room, you thought they would all crumble.

“Sylvi knew of us struggling, and she paid for our meals. I was to become an indentured servant to her, like how my mother was; cooking, cleaning, running odd errands…but she paid me in coin as well. I think-I think she thought I was going to follow in my mother’s footsteps when I was of age, but I refused. That’s when some of the girls and I came up with a way for me to make extra coin, and here we are.”

“She never let anyone younger than seventeen be a whore?”

For a moment, you pondered how that was the one thing he got from your nervous ramblings. Still, you decided it wasn’t best to think about it. “She didn’t want men bedding little girls.”

“I suppose it’s different for girls.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It was my thirteenth nameday when my brother brought me to Sylvi’s pleasure house.” He said it as if it was common knowledge. “He said I needed to know everything there was about women. Your Madame certainly taught me well. It makes sense I suppose; girls are taught to be more ashamed about it.”

Even with the storm still going outside, the only sound you could hear was the beating of your own heart. “…What?”

You remembered what it was like when you were that age. Your body felt strange, you bled between your legs for the first time, you wanted a husband right away one moment, and then wanted to be a child forever the next. You were good at talking to men who were older than you…but…being intimate? No…and Sylvi had…Sylvi had-?

“Is something wrong?”

If you were delusional, you would say he seemed concerned. Still, if you were to tell him that what Sylvi had done was hypocritical and despicable of her, you would go red in the face with tears, and he would only spit on you and say you wouldn’t understand, and-.

“-Your hair.” You said, having been staring at it whilst your mind rushed. “Has…has it always been curly?”

Aemond scowled, not in scorn, but in puzzlement. It must’ve started to dry as he spent time in the house; it must’ve been frizzy and horrible as well. “Yes.”

You forced a smile. “And here I thought only the ladies of the night burned their hair since men favor it straight.”

“Mothers too.” He sighed when he saw the look you gave him. “It curled more by the time I was fourteen. She had the servants straighten it for me ever since; I believe she hates anything about me that is a reminder that she is my mother.”

“Aemond…”

“I don’t need your pity. I’ve been with her since I was born, it is nothing new and I have-.”

You don’t know why you reached forward and combed a strand of his hair between two of your fingers. Maybe it was because you were still tipsy, or maybe it’s because you just wanted to. He flinched upon your touch, and so did you.

“For-forgive me,” you backed farther up your bed. “I-I forgot myself and I-.”

He brought himself forward, taking both of your hands. Without looking at you, he brought both of them into his hair. Almost like it was second nature, you began to gently run your fingers over his scalp. He shut his eye, his hands traveling to drape along your waste, and he bent his head to rest upon your chest.

It was strange. Strange but nice. You were holding him, but just to have the illusion of you also being cared for…not even your grandmother had done something like this for years.

“I like your hair just how it is.” You whispered after a minute. “If it matters at all.”

He merely hummed, his hand travelling under your shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt his finger caress the skin above your wound. Your hands did not still, continuing to comb through his hair softly.

His finger traveled farther up, circling the swell of your breast. You made a noise you hadn’t made before, and you thought you sounded ridiculous. He hummed against your chest, and…

And…

Something between your legs felt like it was beating; like your heart, but it wasn’t that.

“I’m going to touch you there.” He mumbled against the fabric of your shirt. “Alright?”

No, no it wasn’t alright, but it was at the same time.

It wasn’t okay because you’ve only heard stories about this from the girls at the brothel, but it was okay because-because you liked him, and he was-

and you were-

and everything feels warm-

and the way he talked to you-

and the way you-!

“Get off!” You whispered once you heard just the lightest of footsteps outside your door. He listened, backing away quickly to the edge of the bed. An almost silent knock came from your door, and you smiled. “Come in!”

Gigi pushed herself in, holding a tray with two steaming mugs, setting it on the bed. “I’m so sorry, your grace. We do not have tea leaves, so is milk alright?”

Aemond nodded. “It is.”

“How have the both of you been?”

You wore a thin grin. “Fine.”

She nodded, looking in between the two of you. As if she knew what had just taken place, she gave a wry smile and turned to leave. “Well, the rain is dying down now. Let me know if you two need anything else.”

“Thank you, Gigi.” You said without another thought.

She didn’t shut the door when she left. You picked up the mug, took a sip and immediately felt your body heal just a little. Warm milk does numbers on a soul.

“I should take my leave now.” The prince stood up abruptly, dusting himself off.

You tried to stand. “I’ll walk you out.”

The wound at your side burned every inch you moved, and you did a horrible job concealing it. Aemond gently took your shoulders, pushing you back down.

“Rest.” He commanded. “You’re injured, and it’s late.”

“And when have you ever cared?” You teased

“Perhaps just now.” He matched your tone.

“Do you know what I hate?”

“Me? Life itself? Men?”

“Yes, to the last two.” You feel your chest constrict at what you would say next. “I hate that you told Sylvi you would spend time with me because you paid her for…other things previously.”

Aemond tilted his head to the side. “Is that so?”

She nodded. “You…you no longer have to pay for my company. You’ve seen me in turmoil, and I’ve seen you naked.”

He laughed…he laughed in a way you’d never heard him laugh before. “Is that what makes us allies?”

“Friends?” You reworded. “You understand the meaning, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” He scoffed.

“So…are we friends now?”

Friends who touch each other in ways they usually don’t.

A hint of a smile spread across his lips. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Friends.”

You dropped your face, hopefully to avoid him seeing how you blushed. The damage was done though. Regaining yourself, you took a deep breath and looked at him.

“And…I’m aware I won’t be the first person you’ll seek if you’re in distress, but please know I will help if you need it.”

“Do not call yourself inadequate.” He shook his head. “I might have some use for you.”

You scoffed. “How considerate of you.”

“Rest now.” He repeated, turning to leave without a proper goodbye.

You sat up. “Wait!” Aemond did not turn to look at you, but he stopped. “Your eye. When you were walking me home, you were in pain. Does it still hurt?”

He was silent. For a moment, you thought it was to come up with a lie, then you assumed it was to find the words to tell you the truth…you had too much faith in him for either.

“It’s late.” He said your name softly and walked out of your bedroom. You heard the front door open then shut.

And there you were, on your bed, alone with an undrunk mug of milk.

The rain had completely stopped.

[anyarose011]

"There Must Be Something in the Water" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: Many men with one eye have followed you home before...but never one with silver hair. What could he possibly want with you?

Part 1 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Swearing, vulgar jokes, talk of sex, prostitution, and spice (but not smut)

I jumped on the HOTD bandwagon, and even worse (I don't know how it happened, seriously, I don't), I started loving Aemond "Mommy Issues" Targaryen. I came up with this lovely little mini series, and I hope you enjoy it! If you know where the song in this chapter is from, 100 points to *insert your Hogwarts House*! Also, please don't try and keep a timeline of events (the show for sure doesn't), and if you need help on the Westeros money system, use this.

Word Count: 4.2k

You knew a man was following you one lonesome night. It was like clockwork though; you walking through the empty, darkened streets of King’s Landing, a hollow water jug on your hip as if it were a babe.

It didn’t matter if it was the same one who’d been following you all week; what mattered, was what he had. You hadn’t caught sight of him yet, so perhaps he was a different man. Still, if it wasn’t, then simply from how his eyes must traced over you, he’d plan on coming closer that night.

Wearing only your sandals and a thin dress, you continued down the narrow path. It must’ve been…oh, perhaps three hours before sunrise? If you’d gone any sooner or any later, than members of the City Watch would surely be out.

Whether they wanted to aid or hurt you, it would all be the same.

As faint torches began to appear alongside the walls you walked, and you knew you grew closer to the well, you began to hum lightly at first. Then, you sung even softer; no words, just your voice in its purest form. It was only when you finally made it to the well, and after you sat atop the stones, did you finally add a story to your song.

“Father’s hunting in the forest, Mother’s cooking in the home. I must go to fetch the water, ‘til the day that I am grown.”

You cranked the bucket down into the well, still singing.

“’Til I’m grown, ‘Til I’m grown. I must go to fetch the water, ‘til the day that I am grown.”

You glanced up and saw the shadow of the man who had been following you. He was still peeking out from behind an alley, but once he saw your head move, he stepped out. Yet, you merely kept your back to him, cranking the handle on the well to bring the bucket up.

“Then I will have a handsome husband, and a daughter of my own. Then I’ll send her to fetch the water, I’ll be cooking in the home.”

Taking the bucket off its hook, you poured it carefully into the jug. Setting the bucket back, you then stood up, taking the full jug of water into your arms. Slowly, you began to walk uphill and out of the area of the well, singing quietly.

“My own home, My own home. Then, I’ll send her to fetch the water, I’ll be cooking in my home. My own home, My own-.”

You’d gotten better at making it look like an accident when dropping your jug of water. The first time you’d done it, you glanced back to make sure your unsuspecting victim was watching and let go of it. Needless to say, he was the one that robbed you that night.

The jug rolled down the cobbled hill, and ricocheted off the well, spinning in place. Soon, the silhouette of a man became visible as he came closer to the jug. Your eyes drifted up from the ground. When you saw his face, the first thing you noticed was only one eye; the other, his left eye, covered by a humble patch.

Then, the one thing that frightened you: Long hair that was almost the shade of the sun, it was so light.

This wasn’t a drunken man wandering alone at night, this wasn’t a Kingsguard who had an itch to scratch.

No…no, this was Aemond Targaryen, a prince. A prince who could do anything to you, and you wouldn’t be able to resist; even if you fought.

And he was staring at you from the foot of the hill. You weren’t even at the top, only halfway. In actuality, this wasn’t the most afraid you’d ever been in a situation like this. Still, the way he bent down to pick up the jug without his smile wavering, or his eye never leaving yours, greatly unnerved you.

Then, he turned away from you, approaching the well. Setting down the jug, he began to turn the crank of the well, lowering the bucket back down into the water. This wasn’t the first time a man had done this…yet from a prince?

“Come down now,” he beckoned, not looking at you. “I won’t cause any harm. You look ridiculous.”

You hadn’t any idea at the time what words he would say…but those weren’t what you expected at all. Making a sour face, you slowly trailed down the rocky hill until you were at level with him. Aemond stopped cranking, and finally looked at you.

“I know you aren’t a mute.” He taunted. “You wouldn’t sing so sweetly if you were.”

Still, you refused to speak. Instead, you folded your hands, standing tall as if you were an equal to him. This only widened the smile upon his face. He sat atop the rocks of the well, leaving a space for you.

You approached him, but did not sit. Even as his eyes trailed over your figure (and how little of your curves the dress hid), you remained stoic; at least, as best as you could. It certainly wasn’t the first time a man looked upon you with lust…but it felt stranger now.

“Don’t tell me I have to pay coin solely to have a conversation with you?” He laughed.

“No.” You finally spoke. “But you are the second Targaryen I have witnessed to take comfort in brothels whilst mourning his line in succession.”

…If you were going to die at any point in life, you at least thought you would die in a fight. This wasn’t the one you were imagining, but it would do.

He nodded, his voice returning to what you assumed to be normal; a natural edge to it that one would find difficult to discern if he was angry at them. “I assume my brother was the first to receive your comfort then?”

“He has never laid eyes on me.”

“I have heard the stories of you.” Aemond hissed. “A living siren, luring those thinking with the head between their legs, only to rob them of all they have. How is it possible he has not seen you?”

“Perhaps you underestimate the King’s intelligence.”

“You followed me.” You wanted to say, but only did so in your mind.

He sighed, standing up to be almost toe to toe with you. “If you are not a whore, then how did you come to know I have visited the Street of Silk?”

Dropping your eyes to the ground, they were soon brought back up by Aemond’s hand cupping your jaw. You did not know if it was shock or stupidity, but you weren’t the least bit afraid. He wanted answers, and he wasn’t so pigheaded to kill you before you gave them.

You backed out of his grip, sighing as if he was an inconvenience (he was, but you couldn’t tell him that). “For years I have made deals with the ladies of the night. I come to them in the evening, they tell me what men are still sick with lust, I lure those men, rob them, maim them, kill them if I have to, and share whatever I have taken.”

A smile lurked in the corner of his mouth. “You’ve killed men before?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It doesn’t matter to me what you believe.”

“Did the women tell you to lure me?”

“They did not tell me it was you.”

“But you knew I was in their attendance.”

“Are you going to fill my jug of water or not?”

Aemond turned back to the well, your empty water jug still resting on the stones. “Answer my question.” He gritted his teeth, yet still brought his hands to the crank and turned it.

You leaned against the basin, watching him and debating your words. “Have you spoken to any women outside your house?”

He snickered (to your surprise and your delight). “You’re very strange.”

“Answer my question.” You teased gently.

“Yes, I have.” The bucket resurfaced, and he took it off the hook. “If my frequent visitations to the Street of Silk haven’t made you aware, then I would say that the gods have cursed you with selective attention.”

“Then you must know that women like to talk.” You sat upon the rocks. “That it would be impossible for them to keep quiet about a silver-haired prince with one eye.”

Aemond said not a word as he poured the water into the jug. When it was filled, he set the bucket back on the hook and walked to stand in front of you. His hands resting on the stones outside of your thighs, caging you.

“Do you favor talking?”

“Only when it brings me favor.”

He brought one of his hands up to your thigh, dancing dangerously close to the inside of it. You sucked in a breath as he asked. “This is what it takes to grant you favor? Dressing yourself up like a doll, singing like a bird for men?”

“Why did you follow me?” You brought your face just a little closer for him to hear your whisper.

“I thought I already told you.” He held your face in his other hand, shutting his eye and hovering his nose above yours. “I have heard the stories; I wanted to see if you were real, and as beautiful as many have claimed.”

You brought your hand to grip onto the wood of the well, steadying yourself as you felt his breath upon your skin. “And what are your thoughts?”

He opened his eye, wearing that same smile. “You’re not…unpleasing to look at.” Pinching your cheek, he drew himself away from you to see the state you contorted your body in. He scoffed. “Seven Hells, you thought I’d push you, didn’t you?”

Relaxing, you hopped down from where you sat, cradling the heavy jug of water into your arms. “You can never be careful around men.”

He hummed. “Especially those who look like the monsters mothers tell their children hide that under their beds.”

“I would’ve thought that if I hadn’t spoken to you.” You tried to pass by him.

His hand came to rest on your bare shoulder; his fingers playing with the thin strap. “And now that you have?”

You felt bold that night (if it wasn’t obvious prior). So, holding the jug on your hip, you brought your other hand over his; softly caressing his knuckles as you smiled. “You’re funny.”

He didn’t laugh, not even smiled. Instead, for a moment, you saw his eye grow. You pulled away from him, your stomach churning at what you had just said and done. You offended him, you must have.

“Goodnight,” your curtsied. “your grace-.”

“-Aemond.”

Now it was your turn for your eyes to enlarge.

“You may call me Aemond.”

He said it as if you would surely see him again. Taking a crisp breath, you smiled shyly. “And what if I were to call you ‘Little Prince’?”

“Perhaps when I hear you sing again, I might allow it.”

 “Then I bid you goodnight, Aemond.” You curtsied playfully, quickly turning on your heel to walk away from him.

You heard his footsteps behind you. “You have not told me your name.”

“Perhaps when you hear me sing again,” you repeated his words. “I shall give it to you.”

You expected him to follow you for the second time that night. To maybe pull you into a dark alleyway and make you tell him your name in the most pleasant way possible. Yet, you did not hear a retort as you walked back up the cobbled hill and turned on the first right to where your home was.

The sound of life soon flooded your ears as you walked through the main part of the city. Even with it being almost sunrise, there were still enough people out and about. It was only when you were nearing close to home, did the events of the night truly dawn on you.

You ran into the prince, and not only had you come out of it unharmed but also liked by him. It couldn’t possibly have been anything more than him wanting to wet his cock again (wet his cock with a girl his own age to put it more accurately, but you could never say that aloud). Despite how much the interaction thrilled and entertained you, you hoped to any gods above you wouldn’t see him again for that very reason.

Whilst turning another corner, a hooded man had tried to do the same, causing the two of you to collide. The jug fell out of your arms and crashed onto the road, the water spilling out.

“Cocksucker!” You cursed, falling to your knees.

You glanced up at the man who caused this, but he quickly pushed past you. For a moment, you thought you saw silver hair.

It was an open secret amongst the Smallfolk how…peculiar the Targaryens were.

Sighing heavily, you pulled yourself up along with the jug. When you began to walk though, you heard soft clinging from the jug. Stopping soon as you started, you glanced into the empty jug, and a faint shining momentarily blinded you. You reached in and pulled out five silver coins.

Stags…they were Stag coins.

You could pay half a years’ worth of food, a somewhat nicer place to live, clothes that were your own…but it wasn’t enough for passage on a ship, none the less, a new life.

Sliding the coins back into the jug, you continued on your way home as if nothing had happened. All the while, pondering if running into the little prince again would do more harm than good.

Not the day after you ran into Aemond, but the day after that, you were in the streets with the other smallfolk, weeping with his sister and his mother.

The same night you first met him was the same night Prince Jaeherys was beheaded. You hadn’t an idea how old he was until you watched his little body wheeled through King’s Landing. There had never been a procession like this, and the whole event made you feel ill.

It felt strange to call it an event; to have the same word used for festivals and celebrations describe a funeral. 

As you attempted to escape the crowds that were reaching out to Queen Halaena, a daunting thought dawned on you: Was it Daemon Targaryen, the traitor to the Crown, uncle and husband to Rhaenyra, that you saw the previous night?

Swallowing down the sickness that stirred within you, you decided to cauterize your doubt with work.

“You know,” one of the brothel workers, Valda, smirked. “a certain, silver-haired dragon keeps asking about you.”

Scowling, you looked at her in the mirror while sitting at the vanity, one of the other girls doing your hair. “And what have you told him?”

“I’ve told him nothing. Chansey though-.”

“-You said you wouldn’t tattle!” Chansey, after running a comb through your hair, threw  it at her.

It was dinner for most of the girls, and every one of them laughed as they ate in one of the sitting rooms.

“What did you tell him?” You interrogated.

She sighed. “When he came last night, he asked for ‘The Woman at the Well’, and if I knew your name. I said you’d have to tell him yourself, and that you left an hour before he arrived.”

“So now he knows I’m here right now.”

Valda rolled her eyes, kneeling to your height and wrapping her arms around you. “If he cared so much for you, why isn’t he here right now?”

“I don’t want to know.”

He was more than likely fucking Sylvi as you spoke.

“What did you do to the Kinslayer to make him act like this?” She jested.

There was that name people were calling him. He killed Lucerys Velaryon, son of Rhanerya and probably the reason there would be a war in the coming month. People said that the boy fell from his dragon, others said Aemond’s dragon ate him, you didn’t know at the time. All you knew was that you wanted the conversation to end.

But, Valda persisted.

“I know you’ve never lain with anyone, but I didn’t know you sucked cock like a goddess.”

“What?!” You shrieked, and the girls howled with laughter. “I did nothing of the sort!”

Chansey giggled. “Don’t tell us you let him nurse on your tits like a newborn babe.”

“…Huh?”

More giggles followed as she said. “That’s what he does to Sylvi-!”

“-Who does what to me?”

Four little words silenced the room quicker than a drawn sword would have. All eyes darted to the opened door, and Sylvi entering. She only looked at Chansey.

She swallowed thickly. “No one, Madame Sylvi.”

“I hope you aren’t shaming the activities that I or other girls have done in this house; considering you have spread your legs and filled your mouth for far longer than half of the women in this room alone.”

“I didn’t intend any harm, Madame.” She dropped her head solemnly. “Please, forgive me.”

Sylvi approached her, caressing her cheek. “All is forgiven unless I hear those ugly words from you again. That goes for the rest of you, understood?”

They nodded and mumbled their agreement. Sighing, Sylvi announced. “Take the rest of your dinner in your quarters. If any men request you, tell him to wait, you still have fifteen minutes left. I need to speak with our ‘Woman at the Well’, as the title has been given to her by the prince himself.”

The girls chuckled, offering sincere goodbyes as they passed by you before exiting. When it was only you and Sylvi, she sat down on the long couch just behind where you were sitting. She looked at you through the mirror and tilted her head. You got up and sat beside her.

“Did you get anything from last night?” She first asked.

Nodding, you took out a small pouch from your boot. “It was the man visiting from Essos.”

“The rich one or his pageboy?” She opened it, revealing two copper Star coins, and one Groat. That answered her question.

“Apparently,” you relaxed further into the couch, leaning against her. “the rich one grew a conscience and decided to go back to his wife instead of fucking Valda. Did she tell you that?”

“You know her.” She stretched her arm to hang behind you. “She doesn’t like being left dry.”

“Does anyone?” You giggled.

Sylvi lightly tugged a piece of your hair. “Don’t slouch, you’ll mess up Chansey’s hard work.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you sat up. “It’s already dark, is there someone waiting for an innocent woman at a well?”

She shook her head. “No, not that I’ve heard of now, but tonight, perhaps. There’s so much talk of war, I’m feeling ill already thinking of it. Still, it will bring fortune for the both of us.”

“I suppose so.” You sighed, leaning forward.

Her hand came up to stroke your back, her finger trailing your spine. “Is it true you still haven’t fucked anyone?”

“Sylvi!” You laughed.

“Is it wrong I find it hard to believe?!” She shoved you playfully. “You’ve done so much good for us throughout the years; I’m confident there isn’t one handsome fella who wouldn’t want to bed you. Or one of the ladies, if you prefer.”

“I’m alright.” You had told her that a hundred times prior, and you felt as if you would tell her a hundred times more.

She sighed. “Suit yourself. Come back in an hour or two, we should have someone drunk on cunt for you to sedate.”

“Of course.”

You dusted yourself off and stood, heading to the door. Sylvi called your name, and you turned.

“I don’t want you speaking with the prince.” Her face was sullen. “You shouldn’t have to deal with his burdens.”

Nodding, you opened the door. “Tell him to leave me be if he asks again; I don’t want to deal with him either.”

You had decided on not wanting to see him again; even if he gave you a hundred Dragons (…that’s a lie, you would).

So, after wandering around King’s Landing for another hour, sticking close to the well-lit parts of the city and almost enjoying the merry crowds, you went back to the brothel, changed into your thin dress, and applied a light coat of makeup. Valda had been with a boy who turned two and twenty that night; friendless, wanted to do something extraordinary to celebrate his name day, and she had been the first person who made him cum. He didn’t even get to slip his cock in her, he was so overwhelmed.

She said he was sweet; you almost felt bad as you spotted him whilst preparing around the corner.

You began to sing the same song you sang every other night, carrying the jug on your hip. You were bolder that night knowing he was more innocent than you, so you glanced over your shoulder and beckoned him closer.

As you sat on the well, letting the bucket lower, you could feel the boy’s presence grow stronger. When you finished your song, you finally looked at him, grinning from ear to ear. Then, your eyes fell to a figure in the alleyway behind him.

“Does your mother know you’re here, boy?”

Said boy turned to look over his shoulder and was met with the face of a hooded one-eyed man, grinning like the devil. The boy’s jaw quivered and only stammers escaped. Aemond walked closer to him.

“What did you think would happen tonight?” He taunted. “You’d come up behind her and fuck her senseless?”

“N-no, I-I-!”

“-Leave us.”

The trembling boy said nothing more; only kept his head down and walked quickly away from the well. Rolling your eyes, you drew them away from the prince once it was only the two of you.

“You’re welcome.”

‘You’re welcome’ he said.

You looked back at him, your face falling into disgust. “What do I have to be thankful for?”

“I assumed you didn’t take pleasure luring little boys night after night.” He sat beside you. “Seems like a chore.”

“It’s worse.” You sighed, cranking the water bucket up. “It’s a job; something us smallfolk need.”

He snickered. “You believe I’ve never worked a day in my life.”

“For coin? Yes.”

“Is there anything else you do for work? Or are you just a siren?”

You looked at him, halting yourself. “Why did you pay me that night?”

He shrugged. “You gave me a service.”

“Someone to talk to?”

“Entertainment.”

Leaning against the wooden post of the well, you asked. “So will you pay me in gold this time? Considering you entertained yourself so much I lost a quarry?”

“We’ll see.” He stood up and placed his hand on the crank.

Humming, you stood as well, turning your whole body to him. “And no, I don’t just do this.”

“What do you do?”

“I usually tailor, sometimes look after children; many odd jobs.”

“Where do you tailor?”

You smirked. “Try asking me later.”

He took the bucket off its hook once it appeared. “I won’t, if you tell me your name.”

“How much coin do you have for that?”

“You didn’t have to pay for my name.”

“I already knew who you were.”

“Well, then you didn’t have to pay for the privilege to use it.” He poured the water into your jug.

You shrugged. “You made me lose a quarry, so…”

Aemond rolled his eye, but you could still see a smirk playing on his lips as he reached into his pocket and took out three silver coins; Moons. Your own eyes grew, and like a greedy child, you instantly stretched your hand out to grasp them. He was quicker, holding them closer to his chest.

“Ah, ah, ah, your name, and something else…”

That’s what made you lose interest. You forced yourself to stand taller, but your heart was trying to beat itself out of your chest and run away in terror.

“I’m not going to…to…”

He tilted his head, mimicking you. “To…to do what?”

“How plainly am I allowed to speak to you?”

“As if you were my own brother.”

“I’m not going to fuck you.” You forced out. “And I won’t let you do that to me either.”

Aemond chuckled, shaking his head. “Is there a difference?”

“Out of the both of us, you’re the only one who’s been in a pleasure house for its intended purpose. I thought you would know.”

“And you have thought correctly.” He pocketed the coins. “I don’t wish for that; only a walk.”

You furrowed your brow. “To where?”

“Nowhere, just around King’s Landing.”

This was stranger than the first night. The coins were meant to be found after you left, but now there he was, paying you directly for a service. He more than likely had his fill with Sylvi earlier, and after you first mentioned him to the girls, one of them let it slip that Madame Sylvi was the only woman he pleasured himself with.

So, despite how much he would deny it, Prince Aemond Targaryen was paying you to be a friend.

And damn it all, even though you had a feeling it would all end in tears, you couldn’t stop yourself from giving him your name.

[anyarose011]

Christmas Time is Here {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Christmas (FINALLY) has arrived! What better way to spend the day full of cheer than with your family (and the boy you previously didn't really care for until just a few days prior). It'd be better if you could spend it in Boston as well...

Part 7 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Making out, swearing, talk of sex, and jokes about pimping out one's father.

Heyyyyyyy, what's uppppp, it's meeeeee. So...okay, long story short, I got back from strudying abroad and have been using this summer to just readjust to America (it's been rough, low key). So I just want to apologize for the long wait, and I hope this chapter is worth it. Also, because the main characters in this story (reader and Angus) are minors, I WILL NOT be adding smut. Still, thank you guys so much for your patience!

Word Count: 6.4k

You thought you slept in at first, until you glanced at the clock on the nightstand and read ‘7:30am’. Groaning, you sat up, rubbing your face when the realization hit you: It was Christmas!

That’s what caused you to leap out of your bed and immediately look under it, pulling out the three horribly wrapped gifts in newspapers tied with a twine ribbon. Before you could do anything else, a light knock on the doorway made you flinch.

“Yeah?” You whispered.

“Are you decent?”

Giggling at Angus’ use of your words from last night, you said. “Not really, I’m still in my pajamas.”

“Get dressed, I wanna show you something.”

You snorted. “You’re not gonna kill me or something, are you?”

“No, but on an unrelated note, we’re going off campus.”

“Wait,” your face dropped. “seriously?”

He snickered. “No. It’s just in the theater.”

You shook your head. “Okay, I’ll meet you in the hall.”

His footsteps echoed outside, and you decided to give him his gift early. After changing into a long-sleeved shirt and pants, then your socks and boots, you slipped out of the door whilst hiding the present behind your back.

“What’s behind your back?” Angus immediately asked once he saw you.

“Merry Christmas to you too.” You teased. “It’s nothing.”

“Amy…”

Sighing overdramatically, you held out the gift. His eyes grew to the size of the moon (both things that you still think are beautiful) as he took it from you. “I…what is this?”

“Well,” you shrugged. “it’s a present, but you kind of have to open it to-.”

“-No, I mean…I didn’t get you anything.”

“That’s okay, I don’t want anything.”

“Hey-.”

“-Ordinary people say ‘thank you’ and open the damn thing.” You smirked.

He mirrored your expression before tearing the newspapers. It was almost funny to you how Angus Tully looked as if his breath was stolen from his lungs just at the sight of Little Women in his hands.

“This is yours.”

“Well, it’s yours now. That’s kind of how gifts work.”

“It’s your favorite though.”

“Who told you it’s my favorite?” You tilted your head, as if challenging him.

You’d never seen a face whiter than the snow outside. “I-I, um, shit.”

“No,” you shook your head. “you’re telling me you kiss me so hard my lips turned blue in the kitchen-!”

“-Hey, hey! Shut up!” He tried to be serious but only ended up laughing.

“But you can’t remember what my favorite book is?!”

Taking a deep breath, Angus then said. “I’m sorry, okay?”

A smile pulled onto your lips. “Yeah, I’m just messing with you.”

“You’re horrible.”

“Thank you.” A giggle fell from you. “Oh god, I hope my dad didn’t hear that.”

“I checked his bed, he’s out somewhere.”

“Alright,” you shrugged. “escort me to the theater then.”

He grinned from ear to ear as he led you through the halls. Unashamedly, you were a bit disappointed; you wished he’d taken your hand. Still, despite the sun being out, to your knowledge, you were the only two people awake. You wouldn’t blame Mary for sleeping in, and it was Christmas, no way Danny would waste his time with you three; that man had family in Worcester.

When you and Angus made it to the theater, you both walked up the steps to the stage and after he set the book down on the floor, he leaned against the piano.

You crossed your arms, smirking. “Mr. Tully, you better not serenade me.”

“I’m not singing.” He tried not to smile.

“So, there is a God.”

“Quit it.” He snickered. “Sit down, I’m gonna teach you how to play the piano.”

Raising your brow, you said. “You told me you hadn’t played since you were ten.”

“I hadn’t taken lessons since I was ten. We have a piano back at home, so I still play sometimes.”

“Never here?”

“Never here. Come on.” he tilted his head to the bench.

Rolling your eyes, you sat down, placing your hands on the keys. Angus came to stand beside you. “Okay, you know the alphabet?”

“What the hell is that?”

“Perfect.” He scoffed, then pointed to the white keys. “So, you only have to know ‘A’ to ‘G’. If this,” he pressed the white key in the middle of the piano between two black keys. “is ‘D’, then what is this?” He hovered his finger above the white key to the right of it.

“E.” You said simply. “I do know that this ‘B’ key is out of tuned though.”

You reached over his arm and played the ‘C’ an octave above, bringing your face just a little closer to his. He smiled. “Okay smartass, you do know what the alphabet it.”

“Yeah, I just don’t know how to play anything, that’s all.”

Angus took your right hand in his hand (fucking finally), and brought your fingers to play the ‘E’ and ‘D#’ a few times before then ‘B’, ‘D’, ‘C’, and ‘A’.

“Know that one?” He asked.

“‘Fur Elise’.” You grinned at the name. “And you’re sure you wish I was your first kiss?”

He answered plain and simple. “I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you decided to keep toying with him. “what comes next? And I’m pretty sure I have to use my other hand at some point.”

You expected a retort from him, but he only went behind you and grabbed your left hand. Gently, he pressed his fingers over yours, and guided you to slowly play the piece by Beethoven. It was peaceful to say the least; well, as peaceful as it could be while your heart was trying to beat itself out of your chest.

As his chest hovered against your back, you decided to soothe your own worries.

“Son of a bitch, you just wanted to hold my hand!” You teased.

The music stopped as he pressed his face against your shoulder while laughing. It should’ve made you uneasy how just at ease he was around you; but perhaps you both had already acted like this before you kissed. Perhaps, with only being around him for a week, you had come to know him as a close friend (even with how much you loathed him at first).

He took his head off your shoulder and looked at you, his nose practically against yours. “And what if I did?”

This was the part where you were supposed to say something smart in return and make him feel just a bit stupid. But…were his eyes always that brown and beautiful?

You were just a girl; no one should blame you for immediately throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him.

Luckily, unlike the night before, he was less surprised this time. His arms were around your waist, and whether he meant to or not, he pulled you down to the floor with him when his own legs gave out.

Still, even though the sudden shift of your body caused you to squeak out in surprise, your lips didn’t leave his as your hands soon carded through his hair, and his moved further down your hips.

“I don’t want to do anything more,” you said quickly between kisses. “I don’t want to do anything more!”

His lips moved down to your neck, one of his hands came back up to cradle your jaw tenderly. “Me neither.”

“Okay.” You answered, your voice slightly pitched as he kissed your neck. Angus laid you down as softly as he could on the stage and hovered above you; his kisses never leaving your skin. His hand found yours and held it above your head as he brought his lips back up to yours. Even with it being clumsy, nothing in your whole life had felt so…good.

You wondered just how anyone on earth could get anything done after being kissed like this for the first time.

Perhaps it is because they hear their father calling their name.

At the sound of your father’s voice echoing through the halls, you and Angus froze. With one look, you both immediately pulled away, and he got off you, sitting on the piano bench and putting his hands on the keys.

It was quite comedic how that was the first time you heard him play; and he was quite good at it.

Luckily, you managed to get up and lean against the piano the moment the door to the auditorium opened and soon slammed shut. Angus stopped playing, and you both looked up and saw your father, huffing as if to catch his breath from running around everywhere.

“Merry Christmas.” Were his first words, and after both you and Angus repeated his sentiment, he then asked. “Where the hell have you been?”

You shrugged. “Just here.”

His eyes traveled to you and then to Angus, who, like any nervous teen boy who’d nearly been caught after making out with the teacher’s daughter, waved. Your father simply nodded. “Well, come on. I have something to show you two.”

He left through the doors he came in, and after you and Angus glanced at each other, you both followed; Angus picking up the book of course. Your father took you both to the dining hall where Mary had been waiting, and proudly presented a frankly shabby Christmas tree with some wrapped gifts to you.

“No ornaments?” Angus asked.

“Oh,” your father sighed. “I’m sure we can round up some ornaments somewhere. Uh, now.” He picked up one of the gifts, handing it to Angus. “This is for you.”

The boy glanced up at him as if he handed him the best thing he could receive that day (next to your copy of Little Women of course). He tore it open, and it was revealed to be another book.

“‘Meditations.’” Your father read the title. “by Marcus Aurelius. For my money, it’s like the Bible, the Koran and the Bhagavad Gita all rolled up into one. And the best part is not one mention of God.”

Mary huffed, obviously not a fan.

“And this,” he handed her the other package under the tree. “is for you.”

She opened it, revealing another book of ‘Meditations’. “So, you just give this to everyone?”

“And.” He gave her the other gift under the tree; that being a horribly wrapped bottle of whiskey.

That got her to smile wide as she took it. Your father, grabbing the final package under the tree, then handed it to you. “Yes, it’s a book, no, it’s not ‘Meditations’.”

Smiling, you unwrapped it and stood absolutely still in shock before exploding into a cheer. “Where did you get this?! I couldn’t find even in Boston!”

“The day trip we took to New York for Thanksgiving? Found it while you wandered off in the bookstore.” He joked.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face if you tried.

“What is it?” Angus asked, looking over your shoulder.

“Maria,” you answered. “by Mary Wollstonecraft. She’s Mary Shelley’s mom.”

“Like, Frankenstein Mary Shelley?”

Oh, how much you wanted to kiss him just because he knew the author of a popular book. Still, you didn’t know how many men even knew a woman wrote one of the most iconic stories of all time. Still, your father and closest woman you had to a mother in years were watching you, so you settled on shoving him.

“That’s right; maybe you’re not that stupid.” Before he could verbally respond, you were almost out the door. “I got something for you guys, be right back!”

You felt like a little girl again as you ran through the halls and up the stairs into the infirmary room before taking the shittly wrapped presents off your bed. You slid down the main staircase railing before barging back into the dining hall where it looked like barely anything had changed.

“What was my time?” You asked your father, a huge smile on your face.

He gave a look. “You didn’t ask us to time you.”

“Happy Christmas.” You handed him his gift, then repeated the same action and sentiment to Mary.

Your father was the first one to open his, and a pleasant smile spread upon his face while holding it up to you; a coloring book of ancient Rome.

“How’d you know I wanted this?” He joked. He had perhaps almost every single book on Roman history, so you had to get creative.

You shrugged. “Oh, you wouldn’t stop talking about it, remember?”

Mary opened hers next, grinning from ear to ear once it was unwrapped. A pink pocket-sized prayer book. “How’d you know I lost mine?”

“Because you told me.”

She hugged you, pinching your cheek when she pulled away. “You’re an angel.”

“Oh, Angus,” Your father took the forgotten envelope out from under the tree, handing it to the boy beside you. “this came in the mail for you.”

He opened it, and glancing over his arm, you saw cash stuffed inside of the card with “Greetings of the Season and Best Wishes for a Happy New Year” printed inside, with the only written words being: “Love, Mom and Stanley.” Not any personalized notes or words of adoration anywhere to be found.

You wanted to squeeze his hand, give him any traditional sense of comfort; yet you weren’t ready to explain to your father and mother figure about the both of you…you weren’t dating, but you were something. So, instead, you merely pushed yourself against his side and acted annoying.

“Fuck, you’re loaded.” Mary scoldingly said your name, but you continued. “Well, he is! Yeesh, you should be paying off my father’s retirement if you hate him that much.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Emma Woodhouse.” You father rolled his eyes.

Angus, fortunately, snorted. “I’ll think about it.”

“Alright,” Mary placed her hands on her hips. “now who’s hungry?”

As usual, the four of you had a lovely breakfast; although, this time, per Christmas tradition, you each had a little piece of chocolate with your pancakes she made. When helping her with the dishes, you saw that only one Christmas cookie you left out the night prior had remained.

When the dishes were done, you and Mary pulled the men into the teacher’s lounge.

“So why are we being held against out will?” Angus joked.

Your father sighed. “It’s almost ten-thirty.”

“And?”

“Charlie Brown!” You cheered, plopping yourself down on the carpet in front of the TV to turn it on.

“It’s the one tradition we have each Christmas,” your father explained and lowered his voice to Angus and Mary. “and one I wouldn’t mind getting rid of.”

“If you want to go drink alone while reading Agatha Christie, go ahead.” You announced, not turning to look at him as you flipped through the channels.

Mary and Angus merely laughed, and you proudly sat down on the couch. Your father mumbled incoherently, but before he could take a seat beside you, Mary grabbed his arm.

“Now, now, come help me make popcorn for the movie.”

Sighing, he let her lead him out of the teacher’s lounge and into the kitchen. Angus soon sat where your father would’ve if not for Mary. You smiled.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” He grinned, and there was silence (as always) between the two of you. One that was broken with. “Thank you.”

You tilted your head. “What for?”

“Just…” He laughed. “for liking me I guess. Also, for what you said about the stupid card and everything.”

Smiling, you glanced up to see if your father and Mary were close by. When you determined they weren’t, you took his face into your hands and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, dumbass.” You pulled away, looking back at the movie as little children start to sing Christmas Time is Here. “Just don’t bitch for the rest of the day.”

He snorted. “I’ll try my best.”

And he did. The four of you watched the movie, and after that, you and Angus went back up to the infirmary and spent the rest of the afternoon reading. Definitely not kissing at all; for sure not.

When you weren’t reading, you were either talking about stupid shit-.

“I thought I heard somewhere that plants can feel pain, do you think that’s true?” You asked, looking up at him while you laid at the end of his bed, your feet by his head.

“…I just want to thank you for letting me peek inside your mind and to see how weird it is.”

Or, surprisingly emotional conversations.

Angus nodded as he laid on the bed, you at his side. “Yeah, I mean…I had a good childhood, it just felt…weird sometimes.”

“I get it.” You rested your head on his shoulder as you both stared at the ceiling.

Still, it was perhaps the longest and most intimate interaction you ever had with a person up until then. How strange it was with a boy you hated only days ago.

Hours later, Mary called you both down for supper (luckily what was reheated from the previous night), and despite there only being four of you, you felt less lonely than when you had at the party. You sat beside Mary, not minding when the smoke of her cigarette tickled your nose.

“Thank you Mary,” your father smiled at her once he was finished. “that was just lovely.”

“Oh, is that an actual compliment?” You never heard Mary sound so surprised. He sighed heavily, and you didn’t bother holding back your laughter.

Angus set down his silverware. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a real family Christmas like this. Christmas dinner, I mean, family style, out of the oven, all the trimmings. My mom always just orders in from Delmonico’s.”

Mary nodded. “She’s got the right idea. Next year, I’m ordering from Delmonico’s.”

“Anyway, thank you, Mary.”

She winked at him, then turned to you. “Well? You got something to say?”

You squinted your eyes mid-chew. After swallowing, you replied with. “The meat’s a bit raw, don’t you think?”

“Oh, none of that today!” She scolded you as everyone else giggled. “Ungrateful child on Christmas.”

“It’s great, Mary.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Your father rose a glass. “I’d like to propose a toast. To my two unlikely companions on this snowy island, to my lovely daughter, and to our absent friends and family.” There was a pause much obviously for your mother and Curtis as if they were at the table with you. “I realize that none of us is here because he or she wants to be, so if there’s anything I can do to make the holidays a little cheerier for any of you, just say the word.”

“Copenhagen.” You didn’t miss a beat.

“Try again next year, Josephine.”

Angus shrugged. “Boston.”

“Boston?” Your father wrinkled his nose. “Why?”

“Why not? I want a real Christmas. I want to go ice skating. I want to see a real Christmas tree with ornaments, not that stupid thing.”

That was what you couldn’t take (as a joke, obviously). “How dare you. You put some respect on that tree my father grew with his blood, sweat, tears, and other fluids.”

Whilst the adults groaned your name in disgust, Angus stared down at his plate, his body trembling with repressed laughter.

“You both said it was nice.” Your father reencountered.

“It is nice.” Mary defended.

Angus, after recovering from his amusement, continued. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Let’s have a real holiday.”

 Your father huffed. “We’re not going to Boston. It’s out of the question.”

“You just told the kids ‘anything’. So, if Copenhagen doesn’t work, then why not Boston?” Mary argued.

“Mary, we’re not allowed to leave campus or the immediate environs.”

Well, it was your moment to shine. Now, here’s the trick: Usually, the ‘puppy dog eyes’ only work on parents from the ages of birth to nine. Sometimes, but not in your case, it can go on longer into the early 30s (that is, if your parents are total pushovers, or you’re a master manipulator). So, what do you do instead? Well, if it’s with your father, you do this:

Glance at him one last time as if to make a final plea, but then act as if you already know the answer and look down as if you’re trying not to show your sadness. You cannot be angry at all, just sad and disappointed so that he can assume you’re judging all of his life choices that he had made previously to lead him to this.

…It’s not easy, but it certainly gets you what you want (…there was like a 76% success rate last time you calculated it).

“But,” your father sighed upon looking at you and Angus. “I suppose we could call it a field trip. A field trip would fall under the ambit of additional academic pursuits. There’s even a fund set aside for additional academic pursuits.”

Despite him looking annoyed, you had a feeling deep down, he wouldn’t mind getting out of Barton. Angus gleefully rose out of his chair.

“I’ll go pack!”

You knew you couldn’t chase after him excitedly, so instead, you focused on your father.

“Now wait a minute,” you scowled. “so you not only listened but also let him persuade you into having us go to Boston, but you didn’t even bother with Copenhagen? That’s really sexist of you.”

He sighed, exhaustedly saying your name. “You’re a smart girl, so you should know that there’s a difference between a ten-hour flight across the world, and a-!” Of course he stopped when he saw your shit eating grin. “…and you’re a smart girl because you played me like a fiddle.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you got up from your seat and wrapped your arms around him, kissing his cheek. “Thank you, papa!”

He waved you off with a smile as you gathered up your dishes and glass, then went into the kitchen and placing them in the sink. You dashed up the stairs to the infirmary, to which you were greeted by Angus’ arms entrapping you.

Laughing, you reciprocated. “Why’re you like this?”

“I’m just happy, is that so shocking?”

“Yes.”

He pulled away only to then cup your cheeks in his hands and bring your lips to his. You sigh into his mouth, kissing him back.

“Does it ever stop?” You asked between kisses.

“What?” He led you to lie on the bed.

“You kissing me all the time."

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare.” You meekly threatened, pulling him back down.

Neither of you started packing for another fifteen minutes; not until you heard your father’s footsteps in the hallway.

You surprised yourself by how well you slept that night. Usually, before an exciting day, you are restless. Yet, you actually jumped out of bed to get ready once your father came in to wake you up.

After a quick breakfast and an hour of waiting, the four of you were in the car on the way to Boston. A curse that you never thought possible is that you could not read in the car without throwing up; so, that forced Angus to read aloud (something that wasn’t a curse).

“‘That boy is a perfect Cyclops, isn’t he?’ said Amy.”

“That’s not what Amy sounds like.” You said matter of factly, laying almost flat in the backseat.

Angus sighed. “Well, she does today.”

“Mr. Tully,” your father looked in the rearview mirror. “is she implying that Amy usually sounds different?”

You grinned. “Yes I am.”

“Oh?” Mary arched her brow in interest.

“I’m not doing a voice.” Angus immediately retaliated.

Sighing dramatically, you stuck your bottom lip out. “Just this one line? Please?”

He stared at you as if you had him under a spell; either that, or your face was a monstrosity so terrible he couldn’t look away. It’s nice to think the first one. So, breathing heavily through his nose, he pitched his voice up.

“‘That boy ith a perfect thyclops, ithn’t he?’ said Amy.”

Needless to say, the car erupted into laughter.

You can’t quite remember what else was discussed between the four of you on that long drive. All you can recall is that you never once felt sorrow or pain from your mother’s absence. It was…lovely actually.

Soon, the car stopped outside Peggy Lamb’s triple decker apartment in Roxbury neighborhood. You hadn’t been there since you were thirteen for Thanksgiving. When, after your mother passed, Mary and Curtis invited both you and your father to dinner for the holiday. Then, just all of a sudden (much like Miss Crane’s Christmas parties), you stopped going.

“Here we are.” Mary announced.

“That’s an awful lot of stairs…” Your father trailed off.

“Probably icy too…”

Nope, not going to give your kissing buddy (what was Angus Tully to you? What were you to him?) a clue.

“Mr. Tully.”

“Right.” He nodded once he finally took the hint from your dad. He smiled. “Mary, can I help you with your bags?”

“Yes, please.” She smiled, and Angus got out of the car.

You leaned against Mary’s seat. “Mary, may I help you with your bags.”

“You may.”

You heard your father prod at just why you would want to go into the cold air and help Angus carry the bags but paid him no mind. You did though when it was Angus who asked.

“What’re you doing out here?” He popped the trunk.

“Mary asked me to help too.” You pulled out the large suitcase with all your strength. “She knew your noodle arms couldn’t handle it all.”

Scoffing, he took the hatbox and closed the trunk. “Seems like you’re handling it perfectly.”

“Of course, I am.” You did your best to hide the ache in your arms already forming as you led the way.

Mary, with her window rolled down, stopped you at the foot of the stairs. “Hey, why’s she carrying the suitcase?”

“She said she could handle it.” Angus replied.

“That’s not very gentlemanly of you.”

“Yeah, Angus.” You taunted as if him only carrying the box was his idea.

This was certainly not the first nor the last time you’d make his jaw drop from your wittiness. Sighing, he held out his hand for the suitcase, and you traded it for the hatbox.

“And be careful with the box,” Mary called your name. “Knowing you, you’ll drop it.”

You just stuck your tongue out playfully and continued up the stairs, Angus lugging the suitcase. “What do you think she packed in here, rocks?”

“I’d tell you, but you’d make a joke about how much women need to pack even though ‘We’re only here for a few days’.” You said in an accent that any man with low self-esteem would deem offensive.

He scoffed, stopping on the first floor. “Yeah, maybe.”

You tutted. “Ah, ah, ah, one more floor up.”

“What?”

“Peggy lives on the top floor.”

Angus sighed all the air that was left in his body before taking a deep breath. “I should’ve let you carry the damn bag.”

“But ya didn’t.” You smirked, leading him, once again, up the stairs.

When you both finally got to the top, you didn’t even need to knock on the door before Peggy and her husband came out to greet you.

“Oh, my goodness!” Peggy wrapped her arms around you once you set the box down. “It’s been too long.”

You laughed, hugging her back. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

She pulled away, but still holding your arms. “Never apologize, honey. And who’s this with you?”

Obviously, she was looking at the scraggly, 6’1 white boy behind you. Still, smiling, you introduced him.

“Angus; he goes to school at Barton and has been spending the holidays with us.”

“Aw,” Peggy shook his hand. “it’s nice to meet you.”

He nodded, grinning. “Nice to meet you too.”

“So,” she looked at you. “where’s that sister of mine?”

You tilted your head over ledge, and she and her husband walked over, waving and calling Mary’s name. Peggy turned back to you.

“Well, it’s been great seeing you again. If you ever need anything, you’re always welcome here.”

You nodded, smiling unwavering. “I’ll keep that in mind. Have a Happy New Year.”

She repeated the pleasantries and hugged you one final time before you and Angus started descending the stairs. When you passed by Mary, wishing her goodbye, she stopped you.

“Not yet, now you’ve gotta help me up there.”

“Oh yeah,” Angus offered her his arm. “sure thing.”

You resisted. “I already said hi to Peggy, am I excused?”

“I guess so.” She sighed as if you annoyed her.

Happy with her answer, you hugged her tightly and rushed into the front seat of the car, enjoying the warmth. In the corner of your eye, you saw your father arch his.

“You and Mr. Tully seem to be getting along finally.”

Glancing over, you nodded. “Yeah. He’s still a bit of an ass, but he’s not so bad.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Time.” You shrugged, hoping your years of (somewhat) lying paid off. “I guess forcing us together for a week in the cold really helps.”

He hummed, turning back to look at the front as if there was anything eye-catching about the road. Thankfully, it didn’t take Angus that long to walk Mary up the stairs, and he was soon in the back of the car.

Your father drove into the city centre of Boston, and parked outside of the hotel you three would be staying at. Of course, you had a room all to yourself (although, you only had a single bed and not a twin, but you were happy nonetheless).

After twenty minutes of getting situated, the three of you went out to explore the city (a city the three of you had been to multiple times but was still just as beautiful as the first day you saw it). You went through more parks you could count, streets that almost all looked the same but still something unique about each of them; it was just nice enough to walk and talk with your companions.

“Alright,” your father lit his pipe after the three of you had lunch. “it’s about one-thirty right now, what’s one thing everyone want to do today?”

“I have two things.” You said.

“One for now, Josephine.”

“Brattle’s Books.”

“Very good, even though you already have too many. Mr. Tully, what about you?”

He shrugged. “Just ice skating, honestly.”

“Wow.” your father released his breath. “I must say, I am impressed with how simple both your suggestions are.”

“What do you wanna do?” You asked.

“The Museum of Fine Arts, of course.” He began walking. You and Angus sighed as if it was the worst convenience in the world. Your father defended. “Oh, quit your bellyaching, both of you! This is still technically a field trip. Okay, what’s the second thing you want to do?” He asked you.

“A milkshake and fries.”

“That’s it?” He wrinkled his nose. “That disgusting concoction, is it?”

“Yes, and it’s not disgusting, you’re just a picky eater.”

Angus chimed in. “It doesn’t sound that appealing.”

“Who asked you?” You questioned.

Your argument ended there as the three of you made the journey to Brattle’s Book Store. Just as you did in the car, you talked about nothing and everything at the same time; perhaps that’s why those little moments of transitioning matter the most to you.

When you made it to Brattle’s, you spent a little time inside the actual store, but more of it outside in the large empty space between the two buildings. It was like it was another floor on the old bookstore, several upon several shelves hugging the walls, and smaller ones creating aisles on the floor.

You primarily were by yourself, keeping a mental list of more books to buy for later, and lose yourself quickly in between the pages and old smell of them. You hadn’t even noticed it’d begun to snow until Angus was beside you.

“So, you’re telling me it couldn’t have snowed all the times we were indoors?” He joked.

You looked up. “Of course not, God’s angry at us.”

“Why?”

Smirking, you nudged him. “Kissing outside of wedlock.”

“The worst of all sins.” He played along.

“Above heresy, even.”

“Hi there handsome,” a woman’s voice penetrated the air. “got a cigarette?”

Neither of you wanted to turn around to see who she was talking to (or acknowledge her if she was talking to Angus). So, communicating with just one look, you stayed put.

“No, sorry. I smoke a pipe.”

Well, so much for staying still. At the sound of your father’s answer, both you and Angus turned slowly. A woman with red hair tied up in a messy bun wearing the ugliest shade of yellow and a raggedy fur coat graced your presence.

“How about a date, then?” She tried again. “You want a date?”

“No thank you.” He took the pipe out, smiling nervously.

“Oh, come on, let’s go somewhere warm!”

“Go ahead.” Angus teased. “We can wait here.”

Jaw on the floor, you couldn’t even say anything at first.

“See?” The woman stuck her hands in her pockets. “They can wait here, read some books. They don’t mind if daddy gets a little candy cane.”

“Thank you, but I never really liked candy canes.” Your father picked up a book. “Plus, I’m prediabetic.”

She scowled, and turned over her shoulder, leaving. Angus leaned over the bookshelf in between the two of you and your father.

“You know, if you do want a little candy cane, I won’t tell anyone.”

You swatted him, finally. “Stop trying to pimp out my father, you…you…”

“What?” He grinned from ear to ear. “What am I?”

“Papa, cover your ears.” You looked at him.

“Mister Tully,” he said instead. “for most people, sex is ninety-nine percent friction and one percent good-will. Call me old fashioned, but I place value on physical intimacy, and so should you two.”

“I never-!”

“-You know,” Angus interrupted. “if it wasn’t for your kid in front of me right now, I would’ve thought you never had sex.”

Again, you struck him; this time, enough to leave a bruise.

“Ow!” He cradled his arm.

“You know,” you used his words. “if it wasn’t for your mom sending you to private school, I would’ve thought you were a cheap, common whore.”

Instead of scolding you, your father laughed. It’s not as if he never did, it was always just...a rarity and almost a blessing to hear him be so carefree.

“Mr. Tully, cover my daughter’s ears, would you?”

Angus followed through and you let him.

“Believe it or not,” your father continued. “there was a time when the fire in my loins burned white hot.”

“You’re full of shit.” Angus snickered.

“No, the details would curl your toes.”

“Okay, then let’s hear.”

He shook his head. “Whatever happened between my wife and I is none of your business; especially our daughter’s.”

“She can’t hear anything.”

“Yes, I can.”

His hands left your ears, leading both men to laugh. Nothing more was (thankfully) said about your father and mother’s sex life. It was after another ten minutes outside when your father announced it was time to go; not before having to use the bookstore’s bathroom. So, that left you and Agnus by yourselves for the first time since arriving.

“You’re horrible.” You playfully kicked his feet.

“You hit me!”

“You deserved it. God, you’re such a man.”

He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, with a smile, he reached into his coat pocket and brought something out. In his hands, he held a somewhat worn copy of The Little Prince, and two different colored ribbons.

Freezing where you stood, you could only stare at them. “What’s this?”

“Merry Christmas.”

Looking up at him, your parted lips couldn’t form words to express just the…surprise of it all. So, Angus continued.

“I bought it; the book at least. I found it inside, asked your dad for the money so I could get it for you, and that was it. The-the ribbons, I got one that was your favorite color, but then I remembered my mom would talk about how there’s some colors that look better in a girl’s hair, so I got one I thought-.”

You threw your arms around Angus and held him so close to you people would think you were using him for warmth. He froze at first before immediately melting into your embrace. You brought his face down to yours, kissing the tip of his nose before pulling away and taking the gifts into your hands.

“Holy shit…you’re too sweet.” You giggled, flipping through the book.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “So, you like it?”

“I love it, you idiot.”

“And if you find the book at your house when you go back-.”

“-I’ll keep this one too.” you cut him off. “You’re thoughtful, you know that?”

Angus stuck his hands in his pockets, kicking the snow at his feet. “It’s nothing.”

“Fuck you, it’s everything.”

“Well,” he shrugged, smiling. “since you said it so eloquently.”

You rolled your eyes with a playful grin, then held up the colored ribbon he deemed (and was correct about) would look good in your hair. “Can you put this one on, please?”

“Uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat. “sure.”

You handed it to him, turning around. It wasn’t the first time he put his hands in your hair, but this time, with your back to him, it felt strange. Strange in a good way, but perhaps there wasn’t anything sensual about it, it felt that way.

And it was nice.

The feeling of it anyway; other than that, he had no idea what he was doing.

“What do you want it as?” He asked.

“Half-up, half-down.” You took a hair tie off your wrist, holding it our for him.

“What?”

“Like, instead of an actual ponytail, just make the top of my hair one, and leave the rest down.”

You didn’t even have to look at this man to know there was nothing going on inside his head trying to figure out what the hell you just said.

Thankfully, your father came out of the store.

“And what’s going on here?”

Angus looked over his shoulder. “I uh…”

“Step aside please, Mr. Tully.”

He did, and your father snatched the hair tie you were holding. “Half-up, half-down?”

“Yes, please.” You nodded.

“Do you know how to braid hair, Angus?” He asked, tying the hair tie around the ponytail he made.

“No.”

He hummed disapprovingly, sliding the ribbon into the hair tie and beginning to make a bow. “You should; it’s quite an important skill for a man.”

[anyarose011]

Anya's Totally Bitchin Masterlist

"Books and Battles of Wits"

{Angus Tully x Reader} ->The Holdovers

Summary: Being stuck at the snooty, all-boys school your father works at is NOT how you wanted to spend Christmas (especially with Angus Tully...asshole). Still, the Winter of 1970 leading into 1971 is one you will not forget. A stubborn teenager, a professor with a stick up his ass, a woman with a heart of gold, and a mini feminist who's pissed at everyone 99% of the day (yours truly)...what could go wrong?

Tropes/keywords: Academic Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Young Love, Mystery, Hurt/Comfort, Feel Good, CHRISTMAS, and Found Family.

Chapter 1: "Bah, Humbug!" Chapter 2: "You're a Mean One, Miss Hunham" Chapter 3: "Emotional Motion Sickness" Chapter 4: "Too Late to Turn Back Now" Chapter 5: "One More Reason to Control Myself" Chapter 6: "December Never Felt So Wrong" Chapter 7: "Christmas Time is Here" Chapter 8: "The Most 'Wonderful' Time of the Year" Chapter 9: Coming Soon

"The Woman at the Well"

{Aemond Targaryen x Reader} -> House of the Dragon: Season 2

Summary: You allowed men to follow you in the dark for a living. One night, a man you never expected (nor wanted) to do so did just that. Over the weeks to come, you become...more acquainted with him. Still, despite how fun it is to dance with dragon fire, one must do their best to remember the chances of being burnt.

Tropes/keywords: Strangers to Friends to Lovers to Strangers (again), Mostly Angst, Little Hurt/Comfort, Somewhat Toxic Love, This story has a happy ending (but not in the way you'd expect)

Chapter 1: "There Must Be Something in the Water" Chapter 2: "Crawling Back to You" Chapter 3: "Nursing on the Poison that Never Stung"

[anyarose011]

If there is no romantic sydcarmy I at least need her to kill him

[anyarose011]

I said it once, I’ll say it again: if Sydney was portrayed by a white actor/actress, the conversation around SydCarmy would be very, very different. They can use “lack of f/m friendship” as an excuse all they want, the evidence is there, and to me it has always been crystal clear: they don’t wanna see a dark skinned black woman being the love interest of the Hot White Boy of the Month.

It is all about race. After all, we live in a racist society.

[anyarose011]

December Never Felt So Wrong {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: You didn't want to go anymore; not after what just happened in your room with Angus. Still, you had to. In the end...well, happy birthday, Jesus; sorry your party was so lame.

Part 6 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, in depth discussions of grief, mention of character death.

The song is for you theatre kids; yes, there is a Christmas album of the cast of Hadestown. While I love the original, the one with Reeve Carney and Eva Noblezada hits different. I think this was my favorite one to write so far; especially with the interactions with Mary and Elise. Also, lol, possible interpretation of reader's character having a thing for Elise? Again, it's all up to you, but just wanted to say that. Also, part 3 of not being able to escape being an awkward/moody teenager because it's a fanfiction. Anywho, hope you guys cry, but it'll be worth it :)

Word Count: 6.1k

You dared not look at Angus the whole drive to Miss Crane’s house. Even when getting into the car, you avoided his gaze like Lot did Sodom and Gomorrah. There was no way, after he was more than likely going to kiss you (or you him), could you even acknowledge his existence.

But why did you stop yourself from kissing him?

No matter, as your father drove all of you to Miss Crane’s house, you managed to block out that question which clawed at your mind. The door was unlocked when you four arrived at seven, and you filtered in. The house was still heavily decorated in Christmas paraphernalia like you had seen it days ago when you were with Elise. Yet, with how many people were gathered on just the first floor alone, it almost felt as if you were entering a stranger’s house.

Well…not exactly.

Truth be told, this was neither you nor your father’s first Christmas party with Miss Crane. You went with your mother to only one before she passed, and even though Miss Crane would still hold out invitations for you and your father…neither of you ever went. Elise and her aunt would understand of course, especially in the first years after your mother passed; Christmas is always a complicated time after the death of a loved one.

“You made it!” Miss Crane’s voice of gratitude and her gently clutching your arm broke your thoughts. “Welcome. Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!”

She had looked at Mary once you nodded with a smile, and Mary mirrored her. “We’re happy to be here. Where should I put these?”

Miss Crane lifted the cover of the brownies Mary was holding at and gasped before taking the tray. “Those I’ll be putting on my bedside table.”

Mary laughed. “Oh, you’re a wicked woman!”

“You have no idea.”

“Certainly a lot of people here!”

Leave it to your father for that to be the first thing he says. Still, Miss Crane took it in stride.

“Yeah, yeah, some family, friends from town. Only you guys from work.”

She spent her time pointing out all of her family members (some you remembered, most you had no idea who they were), and you were honestly blanking out. Up until you saw a familiar face.

“Elise!” You cheered as if she was your guardian angel. You hadn’t even noticed Angus wandered off to stare at a snow globe until you saw him visibly flinch upon your exclamation.

Your friend laughed as you embraced her. “Nice to see you too.”

“It’s been forever!”

“It’s been two days.”

The adults around you merely chuckled, and once again, it was Miss Crane who spoke up. “This is Angus Tully, he’s one of our students at Barton. Angus, this is my niece, Elise.”

Neither of you had pulled away from each other during this whole introduction and were merely still wrapped in each other’s arms as if it were normal. Still, it did not escape you how, once Elise and Angus’ eyes met, it was as if you weren’t there.

“Niece Elise.” He nodded, smiling. “Nice.”

And it seemed like he felt the same. So, there you were, between them in a strange physical and emotional sense. Of course, you were selfish, so you couldn’t revel in the discomfort for long.

“You must forgive him.” You said to Elise but loud enough for everyone to hear. “He’s so simple minded, he finds rhymes to be most intriguing.”

She giggled, shaking her head, and Angus rolled his eyes. “Can you go one night without being mean to me?”

“Fitzwilliam,” you smiled, pulling away from Elise. “you’re asking me not to breathe.”

Your father intervened. “Alright you two; no need to fight when we’ve barely gotten through the door.”

Miss Crane tapped his shoulder, looking back at Elise. “This is Mr. Hunham. He’s one of our finest teachers. History, right?”

“Ancient Civilizations.” He said.

It seemed like her words fell on deaf ears to you, Elise, and Angus. The way they were looking at each other…how Elise would glance at everyone only for her eyes to land back on Angus, and how it was the same for him too…

Neither of them ever looked at you though; only at each other.

Miss Crane called your name, and then Elise’s. “Why don’t you take Angus to the basement and introduce him to our family tradition? Do you remember?” She asked you.

You were honestly so discombobulated, you could only huff. “Good lord, it’s been years.”

“Oh hush, you remember.” Elise teased. “Come on.”

She led you and Angus down to the basement, and you both followed. It was almost frightening how much whiplash you’d gotten just from taking one step down the stairs and was immediately met with Holly Jolly Christmas and the smell of glue. Several kids, as young as five and as old as eleven, sat down at the tables you sat at only once, creating what they deemed to be works of art.

“This is what you wanted to show me?” Angus chuckled.

It was normal for someone to laugh at it. Hell, you knew he was laughing with it, but this was the most he had been on your nerves all week (for many reasons you were too bothersome to list).

“I grew up playing down here during my aunt’s parties.” Elsie smiled, tilting her head to you. “She was only here once, but I still think the pieces we’ve made should be hung in the National Gallery, don’t you agree?” She said your name.

You put on a smile. “For sure.”

“I think it’s kind of cool.” She said. “There’s a purity to it. I mean, every child is an artist. The problem is remaining an artist when we grow up. Picasso said that.”

She could study Art History, perfect her French, move to Paris and work as a tour guide in the Louvre. That was a dream she told you she had ever since you were children; but yet there she was, throwing it all away to flirt with a boy she had just met.

One who wasn’t even attractive at that (not the first lie you told yourself that night).

“Picasso’s cool.” Angus immediately said. “I saw Guérnica once. You know, the big mural, with the horse?”

He attempted to pose like the painting you wish you could see, and it was so dreadful you didn’t know which one was worse; that or him and Elise’s incessant talking about the stupid painting at the stupid Museum of Modern Art in stupid New York City. So, to spare yourself, you immediately ducked into a small table of little girls; something you thought you would do only if you were held at knife point.

Still…they were actually sweet, surprisingly. You all would ramble about meaningless things, which perhaps made it all the more meaningful when you would laugh at the stories they told you; whether it was something tame that happened in kindergarten, or what a third grade girl said to you.

“Boys are stupid.”

You nodded. “That they are. Although, I’ve found that a few of them are nice.”

“I said they’re stupid, not mean.”

“Well, they can be. But again,” you reiterated. “they can be sweet.”

“Not like my daddy.” A six-year-old girl spoke up, drawing on her paper plate with a purple crayon shorter than your temper around some men. “Mama says she ‘put him in the doghouse’. Which is weird, we don’t even have a dog, why would we make a house for him?”

You fought every part of yourself to not laugh. So, you merely smiled politely. “That does seem rather unusual.”

“You talk funny.” One of the older girls said.

“So do you.” Was your reply.

“Do not!”

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

You were about to continue the ridiculous chain until you heard Elise laugh. Your head immediately snapped to see how she and Angus were hunched over some paper with their hands completely covered in paint. It was like the aftermath of a car crash; you couldn’t look away no matter how much you knew deep down it would only hurt you to keep watching.

She had that look in her eyes you rarely ever had with boys, and although you were practically on the other side of the room from them, you could cut the tension with a knife if you had one; and proceed to stab yourself like Juliet.

Then, like you knew she would, Elise kissed him.

That’s what made you tear your gaze away, and you took your father’s advice from long ago: once you felt sick, you ran away.

Your chest was constricting by the time you got up the stairs, and you wanted to say it was because of going up them so quickly, but it wasn’t. Hell, it wasn’t fully because of seeing them kiss, it was a little, but there was something else; what, you had no idea.

This was all your own fault anyway; you told her from the start you didn’t like him (you didn’t, what’s made you change?) and that she’d probably like him (they’d be good for each other too; she’s sweet, he’s not, they’d balance each other out).

Taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart, you decided that whatever was weighing on your shoulders, you weren’t going to let it ruin the rest of your night; Angus and Elise be damned. You decided to people watch to soothe our worries and create imaginary stories for each and every person that passed your way; a game you and your mother played whenever you went out.

There was an older man with his wife, both perhaps in their early nineties. They met in Boston by chance, he had grown up there, she was from Wyoming perhaps and wanted to experience a city to the east that wasn’t New York.

A woman just a little older than you sat by herself with a drink in her hand. She told herself and everyone else she’s content with just sitting against the wall, watching the room be full of life, and she genuinely meant it.

Your father…oh! He was talking with Miss Crane, and it seemed to be going well.

So, to give him privacy, you decided to further wander around the house. All seemed well as Christmas carols played throughout the halls, until you reached the kitchen.

There, hunched over in the corner with her shoes off, was Mary Lamb, trembling. You felt your soul leave your body, and your eyes met Danny (you hadn’t even known he was there until you saw him move towards you).

“I…” He began. “Do you want to try to talk to her?”

All you could do was nod, approaching her. “Mary?”

She shook her head, not saying a word. You stood beside her and saw as tears cascaded down her cheeks. Your breath shuttered with hers; you already knew. Even without her having to tell you, you already knew.

“Do…do you want me to get my dad?” You asked meekly.

Mary didn’t say anything. You just looked at Danny and nodded. Turning on your heel, your chest wasn’t constricting, but you felt like there was something rotten within your stomach. Something so rotten only a parasite would find it delicious and decide to eat every part of you.

Which is of course when you would quite literally bump into Angus Tully coming back up from the basement.

“Hey,” he greeted with the biggest smile on his face. “thought you got lost, where-?” Just as he saw your fallen face, his did as well. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed thickly, feeling tears spring into your eyes. “Where’s my dad?”

“What happened?” He softened his voice and it only made you want to tear him apart.

Shaking your head, you asked again. “Where is he? I…”

He said your name, repeating his question. “What happened?”

Taking a deep breath, you only said. “Mary…”

Angus nodded, not needing anything else. “I’ll go find him.”

You turned back to the kitchen, waiting with bated breath and arms crossed. Your father and Angus came in soon after, seeing Mary the exact same way you saw her over the kitchen counter.

“Mary?” Your father asked gently. “Mary, are you all right?”

“Just leave me alone.” She grumbled.

Danny placed a hand on her back. “Want me to take you home?”

“Back off!” She hissed, turning around. “Back off.”

Your father shut the door as she cried, and you felt shame that you couldn’t even pick your gaze up from the floor while it all happened.

“He’s gone.” She sobbed, and that was all it took for everyone to decide to go home.

Your throat was clogged with emotion the whole time, and you felt bad for asking to say goodbye to Elise as Mary clung to your father and Angus.

“Just make it quick.” Your dad said, and you didn’t even take time to nod, sprinting back to the basement.

It was as if nothing changed, and she smiled up at you once you came down the stairs.

“So?” Her face was all aglow as if you had something good to tell her.

“I…” you swallowed. “We have to go.”

“What?”

“Mary uh, her son…well…” Why couldn’t you just say it?!

Elise nodded. “Oh…I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “I’m just sorry we have to go; I was having fun.”

She tilted her head to the side, her gentle smile being a dead giveaway, she knew you were lying. But, to not bring that up, you tried another tactic.

“So…Angus.”

Elise shook her head, laughing. “He’s nice and smart too; I can see why you’re friends with him.”

You cringed. “I wouldn’t really say that.”

She said your name, a little more serious. “I know something’s bothering you. I don’t know if it’s with Mary or Angus, but please just tell me.”

It was a lot of things; not being able to go to Copenhagen, Teddy Kountze and Jason Smith being sorry excuses for men, the damn letters, Angus Tully telling your father about the damn letters, Angus Tully in general, the stupid Christmas party and…and…

“I’m…I’m glad you like him.”

No, it wasn’t that but that’s all your mouth could form.

She nodded. “I do, but now after meeting him in person,” she shrugged. “just a friend. Not even really, I barely know him. I don’t know why you’d think he’d be my type.”

“You kissed him.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you mean ‘yeah’?!” You cried. “Don’t lie to me and say you didn’t even have the tiniest crush on him.”

“Like how you’re lying to me right now?”

That was uncalled for (in your mind at the time, in actuality, yeah it was called for). “What?”

“I asked you what’s bothering you, but you’re not telling me.” She looked annoyed now, and that was worse than if she was fuming. “Look, unless you like killed someone, it can’t be that bad.”

Swallowing thickly, you took a few moments to try your best to recover yourself. Saying hesitantly. “I…I think I’m being stupid.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Why are you stupid?”

“I don’t want you to leave me for some dumb boy.”

She stared at you, and you were surprised how quickly she responded despite the astonished look on her face. “First of all, not going to happen-.”

“-You say that now.”

“Let me finish, please. Second of all, you’re not stupid because of that; not for anything, mind you.”

Taking a deep breath, you shook your head and leaned against the wall of the basement, Judy Garland singing Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas in your ears. “I don’t know why I’m making a big deal about it.”

“It’s normal.” She leaned with you. “Half of my friend group back home ditched me to spend more time with their boyfriends. What’s funny is that some of them have a new one every month.”

“It shouldn’t be normal.”

“It shouldn’t,” She shook her head. “and for the record, I meant it’s normal to freak out about it. I want you to know thought that I won’t do that, and you better not either.”

“Never.” You chuckled. “Besides, a boy has to like me first for that to happen.”

Elise grinned as if she was the Chesire Cat from Alice in Wonderland

“What?” You gave her a look.

“I think you should talk to him.”

You already knew who he was, but your heart still stopped. “I…I…him?! Which him?”

 “Just talk to him.”

You stood absolutely still…What the flying fuck were you supposed to do with that information?! Before you could utter another word, Elise hugged you tightly. “Merry Christmas,” she said your name so sweetly before pulling away but still holding you at arm’s length. “if you need anything, just come over; I’ll be here until after News Years.”

All you could do was nod, wishing her a ‘Merry Christmas’ and then having her walk with you up the stairs and out the door. Everyone was waiting for you in the car, and you somberly entered the other side in the back.

“Are you okay, baby?” Mary, to your surprise, was the one to ask.

“Uh huh.” Was your immediate response, nodding.

The rest of the car ride back to Barton was silent, and it began to snow.

It was the second time (two too many) you lied to Mary that winter break; you weren’t fine. You laid awake deep into the night despite the fact you couldn’t hear your father snoring anymore. You not being able to sleep only caused you more stress, which caused you not to sleep.

After tossing and turning for perhaps almost an hour, one thought made you sit up in bed.

You forgot to lay out Christmas cookies and milk.

You also forgot to make the Christmas cookies.

So, not having anything else better to do, you slipped on your shoes, stole your father’s flashlight, and snuck down into the kitchen.

You only needed the flashlight in the darkened halls, because to your surprise, the kitchen was completely illuminated. If that wasn’t enough, you saw Mary sitting at the main counter, smoking a cigarette. You stopped in the doorway, almost hiding behind the corner like you were a little girl again when you first met her.

She glanced at you, not that surprised. “What’re you doing up?”

You pursed your lips. “I wanna make Christmas cookies.”

It was stupid. Even if Santa existed, he wouldn’t bother with a stupid school, so why keep putting out cookies and milk only for you or your father to always be the one eating them and making a joke out of it Christmas morning?

Because why not?

“Okay if I help?” She asked.

A hint of a smile spread upon your lips. “If you don’t mind.”

You and Mary could tie your own aprons, but whenever you cooked together, you liked tying each other’s. You didn’t argue as she told you what ingredients to grab, and soon, after mixing together the wet and dry ingredients, then rolling the dough out, you were placing down several upon several different cookie cutters.

It all seemed well, working with only limited amount of talking but still smiling, and then, the thought that loomed in the back of your mind came forward.

“You alright?” You looked up at her and nodded without saying anything. She sighed, saying your name. “I know you’re not; and I know you weren’t after talking to miss Elise. Now, what is it?”

“Tell her.” your thoughts urged over and over again.

“I…” You sucked in a breath. “Can I ask you something? And you can tell me to fuck off if it’s-.”

“-Hey,” she interrupted. “baby Jesus is being born in half an hour, don’t use that kind of language; but yes, what is it?”

You surprised yourself by laughing briefly, then asking. “What was he like? Like…before I met him?”

Mary looked up, and for a moment you thought she was going to break down again, but she shook her head, returning back to cutting the cookies and placing them on the baking sheet. “Not much different from when you were nine and he was ten.”

“He always teased me for being two years older than me until he realized my birthday was before his,” you smiled. “then he wasn’t so old for a while.”

She nodded. “I think that was the only thing he was competitive at.”

“What was the first thing he wanted to be when he grew up?”

“Fireman.” She answered without having to think.

You grinned. “And what’d you think of that?”

“I knew he’d grow out of it.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What was little Mary like?”

She huffed, a jesting smile on her face and that was enough for you. “Young, in love, could be freer than a bird one moment, and then quiet with her nose in her Bible the next.”

“How’d you meet Curtis’ dad?”

“School,” she peeled the last residue cookie dough off the cookies. “we were in choir together.”

“Wait a minute,” You giggled, picking up one of the sheets of cookies. “you never said you were in choir!”

She took the other one, and you both walked to the preheated oven, and she opened it. “I thought that was obvious when I took you and Curtis to church?”

“We were too busy plugging our little ears.”

“Hey!” She scolded after sliding in her sheet.

“Because of Old Lady Washington!”

“I understand if her singing was like a dying cat, but she was a good woman, God rest her soul. So, you say a prayer for her right now, you nasty, rotten creature.”

Sighing heavily, you take one hand off the tray you were holding to make the sign of the cross, and mouth a prayer.

“That’s better.” Mary nodded. “You want me to put the cookies in for you?”

“I’m a big girl.” You stated proudly, but as you bent down to slide the baking sheet into the oven, you hesitated, feeling the heat already burn your fingers.

You gave it to Mary yet felt no shame doing so.

“You wanna frost them?” She asked, and you both sat down at the table, waiting for them to bake.

“No.” You shook your head. “Too tired.”

“Thank you.” Mary said. “It’s…it’s good to talk about Curtis. I think I miss you both being little the most; don’t tell your dad I said that.”

Chuckling, a memory came to mind; one you thought you would take to your grave but…perhaps it was a good time to share it.

“You know…” you trailed off, a hint of sudden uneasy but joy lacing your insides. “Shit, I’ve never told anyone this before. But…he and I were each other’s first kiss.”

“Oh, I’ve known that.” Mary answered nonchalantly. “It was the first thing he told me when he got home that night.”

“Are you kidding me?!” You laughed.

“Hey,” She said playfully. “keep it down; the men need their beauty sleep.”

Shaking your head, you couldn’t help your giggling. “I mean, fuck, it meant nothing; we weren’t even teenagers, we just watched it in movies, saw my mom and dad do it like once, so of course we were curious. No, no, you wanna know the best part?” Sudden laughter filled your lungs, and you could barely make a coherent sentence. “I-I had a crush on him from thirteen to fifteen, and he had a crush on me when he was ten until he was, God I don’t actually remember. He enlists months ago, not even a full year, and before he goes that’s when he tells me had liked when we were kids. It-It meant nothing, he just wanted to let me know and-!”

Mary’s hand on yours never grounded you faster. Your whole world stopped, and when you looked at her, seeing her eyes that were both concerned, but not at all shocked, your heart did as well. You dropped your head in shame.

“I’m sorry.”

“Never be.” She squeezed your hand.

“I…” you suddenly lost your voice for a second. “I think I…I think I miss him.”

What a stupid way to say it. Of course you did, you had been ever since your father woke you up in the early morning to let you know. Still…what you knew the whole night, what the most bothersome thing that had been festering within you was:

“He’s really gone.”

“Me too.” She said softly, pulling you into a hug.

You couldn’t cry. You wanted to, God, you wanted to. You teared up this time around, but somehow, despite realizing everything all at once…no cathartic outburst, no weeping and screaming without a care in the world…

Just you and Mary Lamb, holding each other for only God knows how long.

“Oh,” Mary’s voice took you out of the peacefulness, and turned to see what she was looking at. “another one.”

 There, in a white shirt and plaid pajama pants, was Angus Tully; hiding behind the corner just as you did.

“I’m surprised you managed to make your way through the school without bumping into anything.” Mary stole the comment you would’ve made if you weren’t frozen already.

Angus leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and smiling. “I’m surprised neither of you heard it. What’re you doing up so late?”

He was looking at you when he asked, and you wanted to take the butter knife off the counter and gouge out his eyes to get him to stop.

Instead, all you said was. “Christmas cookies.”

“Nice.” He nodded, and the kitchen was left in a silence colder than the air outside.

Mary looked in between the both of you, before pursing her lips and untying her apron. “Well, I’m off to bed.”

“But-.” You began.

“-Angus, you’ll help take the cookies out of the oven, won’t you?” She asked him. “Little Jane Bennett’s always been scared of getting burnt.”

“Mary.” You warned, both about exposing your irrational fear, and also leaving you alone.

He nodded, grinning from ear to ear, and you wanted to throw him out an open window. “For sure.”

“Alright,” she sighed in relief, then walking past him to her room. “Merry Christmas you two, and don’t stay up too late.”

“No promises.” Angus joked, turning his head. When he looked back at you, you stood a little taller as if trying to compete with his height. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Hey, I actually wanted to tell you-

“-Would you like some hot chocolate?” You sputtered out.

He blinked, taking in your question. “Yeah…yeah that sounds great. I don’t know where they keep the packets-.”

“-No, I’ll make you what my mom made me.”

…Was this your way of telling him you liked him? It could be worse; you could’ve said: ‘You’re so pretty, I want to throw a rock at you.’

Still, he smiled. “Alright then, what do we need?”

Technically, high quality chocolate, but you were at Barton; which would spend its funds on fancy buildings and overpriced textbooks, but not chocolate, which was complete bullshit.

So, the two of you stood over the stove, milk in a saucepan, a small tub of vanilla, salt, half a bag of M&Ms (courtesy of Angus Tully’s payment for waking you up the week before), whipped cream, and a full jar of milk chocolate chips.

“Why are we putting salt into hot chocolate?” He asked as you stirred the milk.

“It enhances the taste, besides, it’s just a pinch. Okay, pour in the chocolate.”

“All of it?”

“No, just…you know, my mom eyeballed it, so just don’t do all of it.”

He nodded, and you moved aside as he poured in half of the jar. You stirred it in as it quickly melted, then poured what you guessed to be a tablespoon of vanilla in. Your stirring was hypnotizing, so of course you zoned out, and didn’t even realize it until Angus brushed your bare arm.

You jumped, gaze immediately snapping to him. “What?”

He gave you a look; not one of annoyance like you expected. Well, there was a hint of that, but you quickly found out it was to mask concern. “I asked you what you thought of the party before Mary.”

“Oh…” you blinked. “Yeah, it was nice.”

Angus nodded. “You ran off at one point, what happened?”

“Bathroom; girl stuff.” You hoped that was enough to throw him off your trail, which it was.

He visibly tensed. “Oh…”

“Yeah.” you dropped your gaze back to the hot chocolate.

The only sound was the whisk hitting the saucepan as you stirred, then pulled it out to let it sit.

“So uh, is that why you’ve been acting weird this whole day?”

You slammed the whisk on the counter. “How fucking dare you!”

He flinched. “What?!”

“Is pissing blood the only good reason why I’d be like this?”

“Well, if I was, I’d be a bit impatient too.”

“You-,” you laughed, exasperated. “you’re a piece of shit.”

He clenched his jaw. “So then why are you upset?”

Avoiding his gaze, you mustered up the only other truth you could tell him. “I can’t find one of my books.”

Angus scoffed. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!” You gritted your teeth. “My dad read it to me all the time as a kid, and I couldn’t find it when packing last week, so I’ve just been-.”

“-Bullshit, it can’t be that good of a book.”

 “Fuck you, it’s The Little Prince!”

“Look,” He hardened his tone. “I’m not buying it. And if it’s not you being a girl that apparently makes you hate me so much today, or really any day of the week, than what is it?”

The egg timer went off with a loud ringing. You quickly shut it off, having to stop yourself from slamming it back on the counter. You took the oven mitts and opened the oven, reaching in for one of the baking sheets.

After placing down that one, you turned to get the other only to see that Angus, with a washcloth in his hand, held the other. He placed the sheet down by yours.

Throwing the oven mitts off, you sighed heavily, rubbing your temples. Once you found an ounce of calmness, you said. “I know you told my dad.”

You didn’t even say what he told him, he already knew. His face fell, and it was the first time you wished it didn’t. You wished he denied it, got angry at you, hell, blame you for it somehow like so many other boys could have.

But he didn’t…he was ashamed.

Angus tucked his hands into his pockets, avoiding your gaze. “I…I was worried about you.”

Your heart stammered. “Why?”

“It…” he was confused. “What do you mean ‘why’? Some guy who your family isn’t friends with anymore was telling you to take pictures of yourself-.”

“-That’s none of your business.”

“It was for a while; not now, but that’s why I told your dad.”

You swallowed thickly, the emotion of the party, missing Curtis, and now threatening to fully break you. You shook your head. “I’m not angry at you; I’m…sorry I treated you weirdly, but…I don’t know.”

He took a deep breath. “I get it.”

You were both left in silence once again. You took a spoon out of one of the drawers, preparing yourself to taste test it. Then, to fill the empty air, you asked the only thing on your mind.

“So…Elise.”

He looked at you, then down at the counter. “What about her?”

“She’s sweet.”

“Yeah…yeah, she’s nice.”

“So,” you dragged out the ‘O’, almost having fun with teasing him about a girl as if you didn’t know how he felt about you. “do you like her?”

He furrowed his brow. “What, like, like like her?”

Giggling, you said. “Well yeah, you immature asshole.”

“I’m not immature.” He fired back, trying to hide his smile.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

“And for the record, no, I don’t like her like that.”

You nodded. “Not even when she kissed you?”

His lips thinned into a line, and you never saw a man look more uncomfortable from your own doing (besides when you alluded to him not being able to pleasure a woman only yesterday when he dislocated his arm). “Yeah, even when she kissed me.”

You smiled even though you felt strange. You took the spoon and dipped it into the hot chocolate. “Was that your first?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t know what’s the matter with you.” You teased, bringing the spoon up to your lips. “You closed your eyes, and when you opened them, you realized a pretty girl kissed you.”

“What if I wished it was you?”

You brought the spoon away from your lips instantly; both from how hot it was, and from what he had just admitted.

Immediately, he realized what he said, and stumbled over his words. “I-I uh, shit I didn’t-.”

“-Hot.” You interrupted, your mouth burning. “Yeah, yeah, it’s hot.”

“Oh.” He jumped back. “Uh, do you need water or-?”

“-No, no, I’m fine.” An idea (a horrid and dreadful one) came to mind when you turned off the stove and took the sauce pan off the burner. “Um…do you want to taste it?”

Angus nodded, wanting to do anything but acknowledge what just happened. “Yeah, yeah sure.”

He turned to grab a spare spoon off the counter behind him, but you took his face into your hands and brought your lips to his.

There was a delay in his reaction, but soon, his arms wrapped around you, and he pulled you in impossibly closer. Even if it technically wasn’t either of your first kiss, you acted as if it was; well…perhaps it actually was, at least a real one. It was sloppy, there wasn’t a rhythm (you didn’t even know you needed one to properly kiss apparently), and you were torn between keeping your hands on his face or trailing them through his hair.

Which is why you pulled away as soon as you felt it started. Angus, still with his eyes closed, leaned back into you at the loss, but soon snapped out of it once you backed away, catching your breath.

“Are…” he was catching his too. “are you okay?”

“What?” You asked, almost out of it. “Yeah just, needed to breathe.”

“Yeah-yeah, me too.”

It should’ve been uncomfortable; the most uncomfortable you’ve felt the whole night…but then, after you both could breathe normally, and looked at each other, you started laughing.

“How-how was it?” He asked in between snickers.

Your face hurt from smiling. “My lips are burning.”

“Really?”

“I mean, from the hot chocolate but-.”

“-You’re mean.” He shoved you playfully.

You scoffed. “And you’re just a baby. So, how’d it taste?”

His teasing halted. “…What?”

“The hot chocolate.” You asked innocently. “Did it taste good?”

Still being thrown through a loop, he took a longer time to respond before quite literally shaking himself out of it. “Uh, yeah-yeah. I uh-don’t add anything, it’s good.”

“Nice. Hand me some mugs, top shelf to the right.”

He followed without complaint, and you served up the hot chocolate, then drowning both of them in whipped cream before crushing up the M&Ms and sprinkling them on top.

The cookies were cooled by then, so you shared them as well while drinking your hot chocolate. Just as you spoke with the little girls at your table, you spoke about things that, to anyone else, would be meaningless; stories from childhood, school, books, the list went on. Still, for the first time in many days…it felt like there was no tension of any kind between you.

When all was said and done, you cleaned your dishes, then set out cookies and milk.

“For Santa?” He asked.

“Who else?” You questioned.

And this was when you knew Angus Tully was a good person. Despite the opening for overbearing teasing, and how you wouldn’t have minded it at all, he didn’t do anything of the sort. He simply smiled.

The two of you walked hand in hand back to the infirmary, taking extra care to be quiet. When you were in the doorway of your room, you turned to Angus.

“Merry Christmas.” You grinned, feeling your heart do somersaults the way he looked at you.

“Merry Christmas.” He said back, smiling as he cupped your face and kissed your cheek so tenderly.

Your face could’ve lit up the room once he pulled away you were smiling so much. You both uttered another ‘goodnight’ to each other and made your way to your beds.

You didn’t sleep much that night, but instead of it being from grief, it was from excitement. Excitement of finally letting something good happen to you.

[anyarose011]

One More Reason to Control Myself {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Angus Tully knows she's hiding something. Why else would she lie about where she was the morning of Christmas Eve?

Part 5 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, and mention of exploitation of a minor.

We get an Angus POV chapter, motherfuckaas!! I had fun writing from his perspective while also giving him a little more backstory as well. Also, considering I want to try and eliminate the Y/N effect, anytime there's a she or her (italicized) it's you, dear reader. Shoutout to me forgetting there was a character named Danny in the movie, so I have to cover my ass for naming the creep "Daniel". Also, part 2 of an Angus/Reader coded song (what do you mean it breaks my heart? No it doesn't!)

Word Count: 7.1k

“So, why’d you miss supper last night, and why is little miss Jane Bennet missing breakfast now too?”

That was what Mary asked Angus and Paul Hunham at Christmas Eve breakfast. Mr. Hunham glanced around, trying not to show his nerves, but failed. “Oh, we went into town on some uh, school-related business. As for my daughter…I do not know; she wasn’t there when I woke up, have you seen her, Angus?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

Mary hummed. The door opened, and in came Danny, the janitor who, even in the below freezing temperatures of winter, somehow almost had a smile on his face. Carrying in a mop and bucket, he greeted. “Good morning, everybody.”

“Good morning,” Mary pointed to the kitchen. “you can go on in and fix yourself a plate.”

He nodded. “I just saw something funny. I walked into the gym, and someone had vomited in there.”

Angus stilled as he drank his orange juice. Mary looked at him and Mr. Hunham, and the two of them looked at each other.

“You don’t say,” it was Paul who spoke first. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Angus answered loosely.

“No, uh, I’ll look into that right away. Thank you.”

Mary raised one of her brows. “I see how it is.”

Danny shook his head, walked over to Angus, and placed the bucket and mop by him before walking away. “You’re out your mind.”

Angus sighed, fiddling with the eggs on his plate. It had been a week of a frozen hell for him (perhaps not so bad…he made a friend. A friend who, despite there being billions of nerves in the body, she still managed to get on every single one of them; yet, he knows he does the same to her). Still, as Christmas Eve was supposed to be a time of excitement for the holidays, Angus Tully felt nothing of the sort.

He had no idea if it was because he was getting older, or because his father wouldn’t be there after Christmas mass, carrying him out of the car when he pretended to fall asleep.

Maybe it’s because he didn’t live in the same house anymore where the Christmases he used to love took place…

Fortunately, his moments of wintertime dread were gone once the doubles doors from the outside were opened. He watched as Mr. Hunham’s daughter entered, pulling off her gloves and unwrapping the scarf that was brought up over her hair and around her neck.

“And where were you?” Mary was the first to interrogate, sitting beside Angus, still smoking her cigarette.

She smiled, approaching the table. “Out.”

“Out where?” Her father then questioned.

Chuckling, the girl pulled out a chair by her father and sat down, taking an orange of the fruit basket, peeling it. “Just on a walk. I gotta clear my head from you people sometimes.”

Mr. Hunham shook his head, not necessarily shocked by her response, but still bewildered. “Clear your-? How long were you out?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I woke up around seven-thirty, read for a bit, then went out. So…maybe eight? Not for long, that’s for sure.”

Angus knew she was lying. He didn’t mean to peek into her room when he woke up (genuinely he didn’t, no matter what anyone says). Even though Mr. Hunham decided not to wake everyone up at the crack of dawn since Angus was the only holdover, the boy’s internal clock wouldn’t let him sleep in. So, the first thing he needed to do was go to the bathroom, and as he passed by the doorway to her room, she wasn’t there.

He didn’t think anything of it until he was eating breakfast at eight-thirty, and he still didn’t see her.

“I see.” Her father furrowed his brow, but then shrugged, going back to lunch. “Well, please at least eat something other than fruit.”

She took the whole bowl. “But it’s the candy of the good ol’ days.”

“And what are the good ol’ days?” Mary huffed,

“Ancient Rome and Greece,” she popped a grape into her mouth. “also when women had less rights than they do now.”

Angus snorted, trying to then cover up his amusement with a cough. He didn’t find women not having rights funny (please believe him), it was just unexpected of her to say. Still, he felt all eyes on him, and refused to meet any of them as he picked up a piece of bacon.

He likes to think Mr. Hunham’s daughter was smiling at him when she stood up. “Fine, I’ll get real food.”

She went to the kitchen to grab a plate, and Mary hummed. “Never thought I’d see that girl ever be happy this early in the morning.”

Angus finally looked up. “She usually isn’t?”

Mary smirked, placing her cigarette between her lips. “I don’t think you’d last a day with her if you were both ten.”

There was nothing else to do after Mr. Hunham lectured Angus for an hour about the aqueducts in Rome. What was usually two and a half hours was only one, since the teacher claimed: “I’m feeling a little generous because of the season.”

Not because he wanted to drink alone in Dr. Woodrup’s office reading mystery novels (Don’t be ridiculous).

So, that brought Angus Tully back up to the infirmary, to do what, who fucking knows? He glanced into the other room and saw Mr. Hunham’s daughter laying on the middle bed, reading. When she looked up, sensing his presence, he instinctively hid behind the corner.

“You don’t have to be creepy anymore.” She spoke with the sarcasm he knew so well. “We’re friends, remember?”

Angus, playing it cool, entered the room, leaning against the wall. “Who says I was ever creepy to begin with?”

“I did.” She placed a bookmark in her book before setting it down and sitting up. “And you know, ordinary people just enter a room; they usually don’t bother checking.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “maybe you’ve convinced me there are ghosts here and I just want to be safe?”

Not because he was hoping she was in her room and had a reason to go talk to her (Don’t be ridiculous).

She rolled her eyes yet smiled anyway. “Took you long enough to figure out I’m always right.”

“I said ‘maybe’. What’re you reading?”

“Just now or in general?”

“Yes.”

She held up The Two Towers. “You ever read Tolkien?”

Angus sat on the spare bed across from her. “I read The Hobbit my freshman year; one of the only books I liked reading in school.”

His eyes fell to the stack of books on her nightstand. Little Women, Sense and Sensibility, Giovanni’s Room, andThe Count of Monte Cristo.  

“You’ve read all of these?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah.” She then pointed to The Count of Monte Cristo on the bottom. “Well, I actually tried to read this one when I was fourteen but got bored with it; I’m trying again.”

“Right after you reread everything else?”

“Shut up.”

She tried to sound serious, but he watched as she turned her head to try and hide her smile. He wasn’t ashamed to show her his. Angus’ eyes went back to the stack of books, and he took out Little Women, flipping to the first page.

“‘Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents.’ Grumbled Jo.” He read aloud, then looked up from the book. “Now I know why Mr. Hunham calls you that.”

“Are you saying I’m selfish, Fitzwilliam?”

He shook his head, going back to reading. “No, you just complain a lot.”

She scoffed. “Just wait until you meet Amy. I love her, but I’m glad I don’t have sisters.”

Angus’ didn’t respond, his eyes trailing over the words on the pages. He didn’t truly know why he kept reading; whether it was out of boredom, or perhaps he was already hooked on the story, he would never tell.

“Wait,” he heard her. “are you still reading?”

“Damnit, you made me miss my spot.” He glared at her.

She already knew he didn’t mean it (that much). Still, the girl giggled, laying back down on the bed and opening The Two Towers, going back to her own reading. They were like that for ten minutes perhaps? It was a strange time that went by fast and slow. No, Angus Tully wasn’t even doing this to think of what to say to her, he was genuinely engrossed by Louisa May Alcott.

Then, it was when he was more than half-way done with the first chapter, that he asked. “Where were you this morning?”

She looked over at him. “I’m guessing you hate the book?”

“Don’t change the subject.” He sat up. “And no, it’s actually tolerable.”

“Tolerable for it being written by a woman?” She sat up as well. “And for your information, I just went to the woods. What, were you worried about me or something?”

“Maybe…I don’t know, maybe.” Were the only thoughts behind his eyes, but his mouth moved differently.

“No. Wait, you’re walking around the woods, and you’re calling me creepy?”

“What’s so creepy about walking around the woods by myself?” She questioned. “If there was someone following me, then they would be creepy, dumbass.”

“I’m just saying, I don’t know anyone who spends their time frolicking through the woods for fun.”

“You didn’t really know anyone, but neither did I, so we’re even.” She stood up, going to the window to look out of it. “I also prefer frolicking through flower fields, but this isn’t the best season for that.”

Angus hummed. “Yeah, I noticed.”

He debated on asking her why she was out there for an hour and a half; if she was in the woods, or if she was even outside. Just as he was battling with himself and wondering how to ask her without her biting his head off, he saw her tremble.

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing he asked.

“Come over here.” She commanded without looking at him.

He stood up immediately, and as he was halfway to the window, she giggled; a sound he had heard before but…not like this, somehow. Angus stood beside her at the window and watched as Mr. Hunham walked on the sidewalk by the quad, stretching.

“Look at that sad, little man.” She tisked.

Angus asked without looking away. “You talk about your dad like that?”

“You would too if he was yours.”

“Point made.”

They watched as the teacher picked up a stray football on the ground, and with perhaps the worst technique ever, threw it. Both she and Angus, as if her father would see them in the window, backed away from it, laughing at the absurdity.

“I almost feel bad now.” She said through her enjoyment. “That’s a lie, I don’t.”

Her honesty only caused Angus to laugh even more, and he can’t remember when the last time it was he had ever laughed this much. Especially over something so stupid.

“Well, it’s obvious he didn’t play football in high school.” He said.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “he’d go on and on about being president of Latin and Chess club.”

That’s where Angus’ amusement ceased. Even if it was at his own expense, he didn’t mind it at all since he could see just how wide her smile could get.

“Angus Tully, don’t tell me-.”

“-What’s wrong with Chess club?”

“I knew it!” She pointed at him. “You nerd!”

“You’re the one that knows all of Roman history and mythology like the back of your hand, and you’re calling me a nerd?!” He teased.

The girl snorted, crossing her arms. “Not all of it.”

“Yes, you do.”

“So why have I lost to you twice now?”

 “I just got lucky.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

“I’m serious!” He tried to brighten the strange air that settled in the room. “Your dad didn’t drill it into you for nothing.”

 “Yeah, you’re right about that.” She hummed, sitting back on the bed. “So, you’re good at chess?”

He shrugged, taking a risk and sitting next to her (with about two feet of space of course). “I guess so. My…my dad taught me how to play, and I never beat him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, nearly losing himself in the memory. “I was like nine when this snowstorm hit, I was out of school for almost a week, and my dad and I just played the whole time.”

“So, you played without bathroom breaks, and you still didn’t win?”

“Okay, smartass.”

She smiled. “My dad tried teaching me chess and he beat me every time too.”

“You still play?”

“Hell no.”

“Why not?”

“I always cussed at my him whenever I lost, so probably not a good idea to keep going.”

Angus snickered. “How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“You were cussing at seven?”

“He was an asshole!”

“Yeah, I’ve met him.”

It was almost horrifying how her face dropped at his comment. One where it was like the words themselves shocked her. Then, before Angus could fully register what had just happened, she was laughing.

“Sorry,” she shook her head. “I’m just imaging what you looked like as a kid.”

He tried to laugh it off with her, but that odd tension crept its way back in. “I was weird.”

“So was I. You should’ve seen me when I was twelve, my father drilling Roman knowledge into my head, proclaiming how, if I wanted to be better than all of the boys in my class, I had to work for it.” She grinned. “It’s like he tried to make me a small version of him, which was impossible from the start.”

Angus nodded, not exactly knowing how to respond. “Yeah?”

“Of course.” She shrugged. “Well, he doesn’t mean to, but I feel like he sometimes forgets I might want to wear ribbons in my hair, put on makeup, girly things like that that I almost called stupid, but they’re not. But could you imagine it? My father wearing makeup and…okay, he doesn’t have much hair for ribbons, but you get it.”

“I do.” He smiled.

She nodded, and they fell into another beat of silence. It was almost a competition as to who would speak first, and in the end, she surprisingly lost. She stood up from the bed.

“I uh…I promised Mary I’d help her in the kitchen.” She walked backwards. “You’re more than welcome to keep reading my ‘tolerable’ books written by women.”

Angus hummed, trying to shake off her abrupt exit. “Yeah, I got nothing else better to do. Maybe I’ll meet you downstairs and keep harassing you?”

“Yeah sure.”

With that, she turned on her heel and scurried out of the infirmary. Angus always found her to be strange; from the moment she stepped into Mr. Hunham’s classroom in September, to her just then. Still, it was a strangeness he couldn’t help but be intrigued by. Not the same as how a scientist would study a foreign species but…he had grown quite fond of her.

He already had a liking for her that first day he met her (despite her harsh and course attitude towards the others in class). Not a liking enough to have it be a crush per say (he was still annoyed with her). Then, the whole catastrophe of him being stuck with her over Christmas break only added fuel to a fire.

A fire that has both warmed and burned him all at once.

What kind of shit was he going on about? He read half of a chapter from Little Women, and now look at him!

Not knowing what else to do with himself, Angus slid The Count of Monte Cristo out from the bottom of the stack of books. It had been one of his favorites as a kid; ironic in both a sense that he read it as a child, but also his mother of all people recommended it to him. Before he could even flip it to the first page, he saw a small gap in the middle as if there was a bookmark. He opened it and found a letter; an already opened letter.

Angus’ blood ran cold at the sight of it, and as he took it onto his hands, he turned it over. It was addressed to her, and the stamp was a toy train. He had only gotten a glance at the first letter when Teddy stole it, and he recognized the stamp.

Sighing, it almost felt like the envelope was burning in his hand as he hunched over himself. He could’ve read it…it was right there, and it was already opened so it’s not like she would’ve ever known.

But he would’ve. And he knew there was no going back if he read whatever Daniel wrote to her, and even if it wasn’t bad (how could it not be), then he knew she’d be able to sniff him out like a rat that he’d read it.

Wait…Daniel…Danny…The janitor.

“Shit!” Angus hissed, almost falling off the bed, then sprinting out of the infirmary and running blindly though the school he has gone to for months.

He ran outside without a jacket on, looking around for Mr. Hunham. When he already saw his fingers beginning to turn white in a matter of a minute, he ran back into the school and navigated the halls as if he were a bat out of hell.

It took him quite literally running into Mr. Hunham for him to finally stop.

“God almighty, Mr. Tully!” He gasped. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Angus, trying to catch his breath, said. “Mr. Hunham, I have to tell you something.”

Immediately upon noticing his distress, the teacher’s harsh demeanor and voice dropped. “Well…alright, what is it?”

“Can-.” He looked around, feeling suddenly exposed in the hallway. “Can we do this somewhere else?”

“Sure, sure.” Mr. Hunham nodded, looking around as well until his eyes landed on the first door he saw. “Let’s uh, is there fine?”

“Yeah.”

They both entered into a classroom that neither had been in before. It was smaller in size, more than likely meant for honor’s classes, but it looked like it hadn’t been dusted since the beginning of the year when parent’s would visit. When the door was shut, Mr. Hunham turned back to him.

“Now, what’s going on?”

Angus said her name. “Someone’s been sending her letters.”

“What kind of letters?” He asked, his face a mix of confusion and even a hint of denial.

“I…” Angus looked down at the one he had in hand and held it out to the teacher. Mr. Hunham took it, slipping his reading glasses out of his pocket. Angus continued. “Someone named Daniel sent her one days ago, Kountze stole it and read it aloud to everyone back in the woods. I think it’s Danny, the janitor.”

The moment he said ‘Daniel’, he’d already seen Mr. Hunham’s entire demeanor change. He saw him visibly tense, as he read the letter what must have been a million times. As time stood still in the dingy classroom, the teacher swallowed thickly.

“You said she got another letter a few days ago? Where is it?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head.

“Mr. Kountze read it aloud, what exactly did it say?”

“I…” Angus paused, trying to remember just what was written so he wouldn’t miss a thing, “He asked her to send a picture of herself to him, and wished her a Merry Christmas. He sent her thirty-five dollars too; did he send more?”

Mr. Hunham shook his head, obviously bewildered at the amount of money. “No, he didn’t. Mr. Tully, did you even read this?”

“No.” His response was instant.

“Why not?”

Angus’ eyes trailed to the side, somehow finding the blank chalkboard much more appealing than Mr. Hunham. To be honest, anything at the time was more-.

“Angus,” His voice was stern, but not mean. It was enough to catch the boy’s attention, but not enough to scare him. “I need to know what you know, so we can help her.”

He took a deep breath. “Teddy made a joke that she…she…has pictures of herself in a skin mag.” It was absolute hell to watch Mr. Hunham sigh, so Angus looked away as he continued. “She didn’t say that she did, but she didn’t deny it, and I didn’t want to know whatever creepy shit Danny sent-.”

“-First off,” Mr. Hunham interrupted, rubbing his face. “this isn’t Danny the janitor.”

“How do you know?”

“Daniel,” He tried to say the name like he was a historical figure and not someone who made his skin crawl away from his body. “was...a family friend of some sort. That is all you have to know about him.”

Angus nodded, but couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest, and how his stomach began to tie itself into knots as he asked. “Why did he stop being a family friend?”

“I said that’s all you have to know about him.” He said with more of a bite, then calmed himself. “I’ll speak to her about this the next time I see her, and rest assured, I won’t mention you.”

“She’ll know it’s me.” He shook his head. “I found it in one of her books when she left the infirmary after we talked.”

Mr. Hunham clutched the letter in one hand while removing his glasses with the other. “Regardless of details I cannot share with you, this little incident should not effect on how you view my daughter-.”

“-It doesn’t! I just-!” He lashed out unexpectedly at even the assumption of him finding any shred of blaming her for what was happening to her. “I just…I want her to be okay. That’s it.”

The teacher all but froze at his response, it is apparent that he was not expecting him to say that. Still, after regaining himself, he nodded. “You’re a good man for doing this, you know that, right?”

Angus scoffed, shrugging. “I don’t think she’ll talk to me ever again.”

“She may not,” he nodded. “but she also might. I won’t force her to do either. Again, thank you for letting me know.”

“Sure.”

The two of them walked out of the classroom in silence, and with Mr. Hunham’s “See you at dinner?” and his student’s nod, Angus Tully was left alone again in the grand halls of the school.

 A fate that has somehow always caught up with him ever since he got there.

Angus read the same Popular Mechanics magazine three times over since he found it the night he was the only one left behind at Barton, and he’d gotten sick of it after the second time.

So, with nothing else better to do, and with it starting to get dark, he went down into the kitchen, where apparently everyone but Danny was, helping Mary cook. Including her. She was washing vegetables in the sink while Mary was preparing a roast, both of them laughing at someone one of them said. Mr. Hunham was just at the table, peeling potatoes like his life depended on it.

“Mary.” Angus greeted, smiling at her. Mr. Hunham’s daughter immediately turned back to the sink upon seeing him.

Mary looked up. “Speaking of…”

Deciding to ignore the strange tension in the room (He has a knack for doing that, doesn’t he?), Angus’ eyes traveled around until they landed on a dish beside him. “Oh, brownies? God yes, I want all of these.”

“Ah, ah!” Mary scolded when he took one. “Just take one. The rest is for the Christmas party tonight.”

“What Christmas party? There’s a Christmas party?” He said her name. “Did you know there’s a Christmas party?”

She didn’t turn around, and only responded with. “Uh-.”

“-Yes, at Miss Crane’s house.” Mary interrupted her. “She and I are only going for a little bit, show our faces, and say we were there. Well, she might stick around since her little friend is there. You know, Miss Crane said she invited you too.”

Angus furrowed his brows, looking over at Mr. Hunham. “I want to go to the party.”

He stammered. “She-she didn’t mean it. We were just making small talk.”

Mary shrugged. “If you don’t want to go, don’t go. I’ll take him.”

“Mary can take me.” Angus reiterated.

“No, that’s not how it works.” Mr. Hunham raised his voice a hint. “You’re under my supervision.”

Angus frowned. “So, your own kid isn’t under your supervision, but I am?”

“Don’t even think about pulling me into this.” The ‘kid’ in question shook her head, not even turning around.

Still, he scoffed, bringing his eyes back to Mr. Hunham. “Okay, maybe it’s fine for you to sit around here and read books all day,” he turned on his heel, beginning to walk out. “but I’m losing my goddamn mind, Jesus!”

“Hey!” Mary yelled at him once he threw the brownie across the room. “Watch your mouth, young man! Not on Christmas Eve.”

Angus ignored her, storming off back to the infirmary. He didn’t even make it to his room and a bed to dramatically throw himself on and scream into a pillow. He rested his back against the wall before sliding down it. Now sitting, his shoulders still tensed at what just happened. He’d been stuck in the school for a full week, only being able to go out when he dislocated his entire shoulder.

Who the fuck did that piece of shit think he was for holding him captive?!

Closing his eyes, he thought back to what Dr. Gertler told him. Sure, the guy was a quack, but once or twice he actually had a few things that helped him. Angus breathed in, counting to four, held it for three, then released it for another four.

He repeated that until he felt the tension (mostly) fall away from him, and there was even a hint of calmness in his head.

Which was then lost when he opened his eyes, and she was peeking from around the corner.

“Jesus!” He gasped, and she immediately hid. Once his heart stopped beating so damn fast, he said. “Okay, now who’s being creepy?”

“…Me.” She said after a moment’s silence, still hiding.

Sighing, rested his head against the wall. “I’m sorry I yelled earlier.”

She finally showed herself, standing in front of him now. “I don’t think I’m the one you should apologize to but thank you. My dad said you can go to the party with Mary and I.”

That got Angus to sit up taller. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, but he’s going with us, so it won’t be that fun.” She joked.

He snickered along with her, before asking. “What about dinner?”

“We’ll probably just have it at Miss Crane’s. We’ll just have a nice lunch or something tomorrow instead of tonight.” She explained before walking into her room.

This was what caught Angus Tully off guard. She wasn’t exactly acting like her father had just confronted her about the letters, she was being too nice to him…so did she know it was him? She had to; or was he just overthinking it and getting in his own head (Something he did frequently)?

“When are we leaving?” He asked.

“In an hour!” She yelled, her voice somewhat muffled. “So, get on it, Fitzwilliam.”

“Anything you say, Amy!”

He ran off before she could storm after him (like he assumed she would), and went back into his room, which had darkened quite a bit. He went to his bag and took out the razor and shaving cream that he had only opened a few times since the beginning of the semester. He shook the can and applied the cream to his face before bringing the blades of the razor up to shave.

There was honestly no need to. It’s not like he even had “sawdust under his nose” as one would put it when talking about the mustache men would try to grow after watching Top Gun, which didn’t exist at this time, but that’s beside the point.

Even so, as he wat attempting to shave what was not there, he heard a knock, and her voice asked. “Are you decent?”

“Yep.” He answered, not even bothering to glance at the hall of lockets she had knocked from.

She came into his eyesight and stood so close to him in the mirror that he could feel the heat of her skin on his. “Move over.”

“Why?” He scoffed playfully, yet still did so.

It was only then he noticed the small makeup bag she had in her hand, and she placed it on the sink before opening it and taking out a sponge and small jar of liquid that matched her skin tone (it was foundation; he’d heard the word before but didn’t know it was that until perhaps a year later).

“The lighting’s better in here.” She answered, getting close to the mirror and dabbing the liquid on the sponge and upon her face.

Angus took a second (and only a second, if he took any longer she’d yell at him) to look at her entire self, and saw that she was wearing a dress. A dress that he would never have imagined on her. Her hair was almost the same as always...but there was something more to it he couldn't quite verbalize.

She was still herself, and it was silly to Angus Tully that it took a different dress and perhaps some makeup (something he’d hardly see her wear) to realize just how…just how…

“You look…” His mouth trailed off faster than his brain before he could stop himself.

After finishing her foundation, she took out a powder and brush. As she applied the powder, she glanced up at him through the mirror, a smirk on her face that was holding back a laugh. “Yeah?”

He couldn't call her ‘pretty’ (both because she’d never talk to him again, and that would be belittling her), and he couldn't call her ‘beautiful’ (she just wouldn’t talk to him again period; and he’d probably be scaring her off). So, apparently, the best thing he could think of in a limited amount of time was-.

“-Like a girl.”

Oh, how attractive it was to open one of the windows and jump out of it. If it wasn’t the fall that would kill him, it would certainly be freezing to death in a foot of snow.

Instead, to his surprise, while she momentarily scowled at him (as she should have), she giggled. Shaking her head, she said. “I would say you look like a man, but there’s nothing about you to prove that.”

As his heart began to beat again from her apparent lack of offense, he took the towel off the rack and wiped the residue cream off his face. “Oh yeah? What am I then?”

“A boy.” She set down the brush and took out a small tube of liquid, shaking it. “A tall, little boy.”

He snorted, walking away from the mirror when her gaze became just a little too much. “You said you were friends with Miss Crane’s niece?”

“Yes.” Her tone changed somewhat (or was he just overthinking it).

“Do you think I could-?”

“-Should I put on eyeshadow?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“You know,” she turned over her shoulder. “the color that goes on the eyelids?”

“I know what eyeshadow is. I’m not that big into makeup, so I don’t know.”

“Really?” She teased. “You aren’t into makeup?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She turned back to the mirror, opening the tube. “Nothing.”

Angus’ eyes scrunched as he smiled at her playfulness. “Well-.”

“-Shut up.” She interrupted him.

He scowled. “Huh?”

She had the pen (it was eyeliner; he actually knew what that was) hovering over her right eye, and she was glancing at him again through the mirror. “I’m doing the most important part, and it’s the one I’m horrible at, so I need complete silence.”

Angus Tully merely nodded, looking away. He didn’t know how long she took, but she knew she was finished when he heard her gasp.

“I did it!” He looked back and saw that she turned to him with the biggest smile on her face, and blackened wings kissing the corner of her eyes. “I did it!”

He could only nod. “Yeah, it looks good.”

She grinned from ear to ear before turning back to the mirror, setting down her eyeliner and getting out an eyelash curler. “Could I ask you a question, even though you’ll feel stupid afterwards?”

“Do your worst.”

“Why ‘Amy’?”

Angus felt safe to smile at that. “Does that bother you?”

“Why, on God’s green earth, would you say I was like Amy?!”

“Well,” he shrugged. “it pisses you off, that’s the first reason. Second is…she grew on me.”

She scowled, turning to look at him. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“I mean…you made her out to be so annoying, and someone who complains a lot which, yes she does. But she’s funny, and she sticks to herself like Jo does, but…I don’t know, I just like her.”

Her face fell for the second time that day; but not like it did that afternoon when he made a joke about her father. No, this time, he knew it was because she truly didn’t think he would say anything like that.

And, for the first time since he’d known her, she almost looked shy.

Something he thought would be the thing that terrified him the most that entire Christmas break.

So, when she didn’t respond, and wanting to disrupt the awkward silence, he then asked. “Wait, why was your dad so against going, but now he’s fine with it?”

She looked back at the mirror, looking at him through it. “Besides the fact it wouldn’t be fair that you’d be stuck here while I’d go, he has a crush on Miss Crane.”

Angus snorted. “Figures.”

She shrugged. “I kind of always knew. I mean, she’s worked here for five years, but I think he only started liking her last year. I’m also not sure what he’s more afraid of; how I’d react to him liking someone after Mom died, or him just liking her period.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

“My mother’s been in the ground for six years.” She decided to take the eyelash curler back in her hand, then brought it up to one of her eyes. “We still visit her of course. She wasn’t selfish either, and it’s been so long, so I don’t think she’d mind. Besides, I’m going to technically graduate next semester, and I don’t want to be stuck here, but I also don’t want him to be alone. Mary’s really his only friend so…yeah, I think I’d be okay if he was with Miss Crane.”

Angus nodded. At first, it felt almost invasive and even wrong for her to tell him all of that so effortlessly. But…he leaned into it the more she went on. She’d been vulnerable with him before (whether she thought it or not, she had been), but this time…it wasn’t a huge confession, it was just a simple conversation.

“I don’t…” He found himself saying.

He didn’t what? What was he going to say? Something about his father? His mother? It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her something.

She took the curler away from herself and turned to look at him. Her eyes…her damn-no, they weren’t damned; they were kind, gentle…but still he felt damned just as she looked at him in a way he hadn’t ever seen her look at anyone before. She was waiting for him to say something.

Say something.

Say something.

She hadn’t said a word, hadn’t done anything but stare at him, but he was suddenly twelve again. Angus Tully, with his hair that was just beginning to have out of place curls, walking into his parent’s room at two in the morning. He woke his mother up, who gasped when he touched her. After she calmed down, she was appalled to see him crying.

It wasn’t a bad dream, it wasn’t because something had happened to him at school; he didn’t know what was making him weep, but he was doing it anyway.

He could barely say anything, he babbled like a baby learning to talk, and all he could get out was “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

His mother tried her best (he liked to himself that), but she could only say “I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.”

Didn’t she hear him? He didn’t know.

Even now, at seventeen, he didn’t know what to say to her.

“I don’t know how you can use that.” He glanced at the eyelash curler.

She furrowed her brow upon the change in tone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, it looks like a torture device.”

Scoffing, she looked back to the mirror and curled the lashes of her other eyes. “You’ve just never tried it before.”

 “And I never will.”

She looked back at him once she was finished. “Are you scared?”

“No, I just don’t see the reason to.”

She shrugged. “I think you’re scared.”

“Am not.”

“Okay, then let me put mascara on you.”

He scoffed. “You’re kidding.”

“No.” She shook her head. “If you’re not scared then you’ll let me stick something in your eye. You don’t have to wear it to the party, but I think it’d be fun.”

Angus was at a loss. She was a good actress, so how was he supposed to know she wasn’t messing with him? Well…he didn’t; he just had to trust her. To be fair, he had been weird around her this whole time, so…

“I’m not doing the torture device, just the makeup.”

Her face lit up, and she took the mascara out of her bag, setting everything else inside of it. “Get over here.”

He followed, leaning against the wall by the mirror. Suddenly, as he stood in front of her, he was nervous. It wasn’t the first time he was (whether that was because of her wit, her confidence, or even her meanness), it was because it was just her.

“How uh,” he stammered. “how are we doing this.”

“Lean down first of all, fuck why are you so tall?”

“Not one of my favorite qualities.” He joked, pressing his hand against the sink for support as he lowered himself slightly.

“Meh,” she shrugged, unscrewing the cap of her mascara. “girls usually like tall guys.”

His heart flipped. “Yeah?”

She froze momentarily before continuing. “I guess. Elise told me.”

“Right.”

“Okay, close your eyes. You’re going to want to open them when you feel something touch your eye, but I promise you, you don’t want to do that.”

“Sounds good.” He closed his eyes, waiting for the feeling of discomfort. He could feel the heat of herself hover around him, but the pain from the mascara never came.

He heard her sigh. “This isn’t going to work.”

Angus opened his eyes when he felt her draw away, and he saw her sit on one of the beds. She titled her head. “Come here.”

He didn’t know if his heart was still or was going to beat itself out of his chest. Obviously, he sat by her before but…he had to be closer to her. Angus did his best not to make a big deal of it, but he felt like he was almost watching himself outside of his body as he sat beside her and closed his eyes.

“Do you want to know what my mom called me when I was younger?”

She was trying to distract him and he knew it. “Sure.”

“Ever heard of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

He tensed but soon relax when she rested her hand on his cheek; it felt like she was burning him, but the way that he felt whenever he had a fever. Somehow…it was comforting.  Breathing shallowly, he answered. “Greek? Kind of.”

“Well,” he cowered away a little when he felt something brush his eyelashes but kept calm as she continued. “where my father loved Roman history and mythology, my mother was more into the Greeks. They’d go back and forth debating on which was more influential, and that was more so how they became friends. She…before I was born, she talked about naming me Eurydice because it was her favorite story. My dad was obviously against it, so that was a no. So, that’s when she’d just call me Eurydice at home a lot, just to piss him off which was funny.”

Angus hummed, paying attention to her words, but having to bite his tongue to keep himself grounded from losing himself within her touch. “What’s she like in the story?”

“Not much to her.” She moved onto his other eye. “Well, what it gives us anyway. I always had my mom tell me their story, and Eurydice kept changing. It was always who I was like growing up.”

“Really?”

“Really. I was shy around the other kids when she first told me-.”

“-You, shy?”

“Shut up, I’ll mess up your eye if you make me laugh. But yeah, so Eurydice was quiet and shyer. Then, when I’m like nine, I’m a bit more outspoken, angrier even, so she became that.”

He didn’t move his head, scared that he’d mess her up. It was then, after she stopped speaking, he could feel her breath on his face. Her hand was still warm against his cheek, and he found himself leaning into it more and more. He had not felt this sense of peace since…he couldn’t recall.

“Done.”

With one word from her, she took her hand away and he opened his eyes. She was still so close to him, and while he saw her smiling at what he assumed had been her work, it was him staring at her that made it drop. Still, she didn’t look frightened nor upset, she was just…looking at him.

The moment his eyes dropped to her lips for only a second, it was all over.

He’d thought about it, of course. He wanted to. But…like with everything about her, he froze.

She didn’t.

“You…” She stood up from the bed, straightening the skirt of her dress. “you should probably wash that off after taking a look.”

Angus didn’t have time to respond before she grabbed her makeup bag and ran off. He just sat there, trying to process if he was waiting to wake up from a dream, or if it had been in fact real.

When nothing happened, he sighed heavily, getting up and walking towards the mirror. His eyes looked different, and he felt weird. He could not tell if it was from the makeup, her, or both. Still, what he did know, was that he made a fool of himself.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

[anyarose011]

Too Late To Turn Back Now {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: A dislocated shoulder, an insult to end all men, a few lies, going out to eat, and an unwanted revelation about Angus Tully. What a perfect way to celebrate Christmas Eve-Eve.

Part 4 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of arm injury, mentions of underage drinking, minor harassment, and discussion of cancer.

This was one of the more lighthearted and fun as hell chapters to write, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count: 5.0k

Apparently, Angus Tully had gone on another adventure without you. One probably shouldn’t call it an adventure if he went to the chapel, and merely stared at the photo of your dead friend for hours on end.

“Do you think he was praying?” You asked Mary after she told you that while you were helping her make lunch.

“I think he’s just as religious as you.”

You scoffed. “He’d never become a priest.”

“You’d make a lousy nun.”

“I’d be a fun one.”

Once the four of you sat down to eat, your father tried to give you cookies you knew for a fact were given to you by Miss Crane. You also knew they were a week old at this point. Still, to spare your father’s feelings, you broke off a piece. You then put it in your mouth, nodding with a smile before bringing your napkin to your lips as if to clean them, when really you just spat the cookie into it.

Immediately, Angus asked to go to the bathroom, and you knew he wasn’t doing that, but you couldn’t blame him.

“I’m trying.” Your father shrugged, and all you and Mary could do was laugh.

You helped her was the dishes after that, and went back out to the dining hall, still seeing your dad sitting at the same table, alone.

“Everything alright?” You asked.

“Yes, just waiting on Mr. Tully.”

“You honestly can’t force him to learn today.” You scoffed, leaning against one of the chairs. “It’s Christmas Eve-Eve.”

“You always had lessons on Christmas Eve-Eve, and you didn’t complain.”

“I did.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Several times.”

He sighed. “I’ll let him out early by an hour; if you attend as well.”

“Never mind, let him rot.”

“I thought so.” He got up from his chair. “Where on God’s green earth is that boy?”

You watched him leave through the doors Angus took ten minutes ago, and as you were about to go into the kitchen to (lovingly) bother Mary some more, you heard shouting. Now of course, you were (and still are) a nosey bitch, so you had no choice but to also go through the doors leading out into the hallway. You heard Angus first.

“There’s nobody here, okay? Just us two losers, a grieving mom, and your-.”

His face and words fell once he saw you enter, and your father turned to see you standing in the doorframe, looking as if you wandered into something you shouldn’t have. Then, you threw on the attitude.

“What am I now?”

He looked away. “Nothing.”

“Oh, wow!” You began with fake enthusiasm.

“I didn’t mean-.”

“-No, no of course you didn’t.”

Your father stepped in. “That’s enough from the both of you. Mr. Tully, I can forgive you for using the phone without permission if-.”

“-If what?” He interrupted. “No, let’s cut the shit: You stay out of my way, and I stay out of yours.”

Of course, your father had detention slips in his back pocket, and of course he threw one up. “That’s a detention.”

Angus pushed past him, groaning and walking fast down the hall. You pursed your lips. “You really showed him.”

“Stuff it, Lady Macbeth.” He scolded, then called Angus. “You just earned yourself a detention, sir. Now, get back here!”

Angus looked back. “Being here with you is already one big fucking detention!”

“Son of a bitch, that’s another detention!”

In response, Angus knocked over a trash can, which caused your father to run like you’d never seen him run before. You should be ashamed that your first instinct was to laugh, but you weren’t and you still aren’t.

You should also have felt like a fool for deciding to run after them as if it were a game. Again, you didn’t feel like one then, and if you were to do it again as an old woman, you would in a heartbeat.

You saw as Angus tore off posters from the wall and would stop at corners just to taunt your father. Then, after running around more than half the school (you had no idea how much honestly, but it was enough for you), you stopped outside of the gym with the both of them. Even with Angus’s back turned, you knew he was contemplating the unthinkable.

“Don’t you even think about it, Mr. Tully.” Your father warned, panting from running. “You are a hair’s breadth from suspension. I’ll wash my hands of you, you hear me? Wash my hands.” Angus ignored him, stepping into the gym.

You followed your father as he kept going. “Stop right there, you know the gym is strictly off limits. This is your Rubicon. Do not cross the Rubicon.”

Angus took one look at the gym equipment, then back to the two of you. “Alea jacta est.”

He winked at you before springing towards the trampoline, bouncing off of it and over the balance beam. When his body landed with a hard ‘thud!’, you and your father were stricken with tense silence.

Which was then broken when an inhuman scream ripped from Angus’ throat.

Still, as your father looked on in horror, you said (being completely unbothered). “He’s faking it.”

When his screams didn’t subside, and you only heard them grow louder and he threw in more explicate language, your smile fell. It was when he got to his knees did you see how mangled his left arm looked, and you felt like you were going to throw up.

Angus Tully was one step ahead of you in that department, and that’s all we should say about that (not that he nearly puked on you; if anyone ever says that, they’re lying and should be shot on sight).

So, that was how, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve-Eve, you came to be standing outside of your father’s shitty 1964 Nova. You and Angus, who was crying while wearing half of his jacket, were shivering violently, waiting for your father to scrape off the car.

“Hurry up!” Both you and him would beg.

“I am hurrying!” Would be your father’s only response, and you saw his face grow redder every time either of you would yell.

Luckily, he managed to (somehow) scrape it all off and you three piled into the car. Even though you were going to anyway, you father insisted you sit in the front (more than likely because he knew you and Angus would probably try to kill each other in a high tense situation, and who would’ve figured he was right).

“I was on thin ice already.” Your father panicked at you as he stepped on the gas to the hospital. “If Woodrup finds out, the facts won’t matter, he’ll make it my fault.”

“It is your fault!” Angus cried from the back of the car, trying to hold his mangled arm up. “You were supposed to be looking after me!”

“I told you to stop!”

“You said you washed your hands of me!”

“No, I meant it metaphorically!”

“Of course you meant it metaphorically. What were you gonna do, actually go and wash your hands?!”

Your father turned back to the road. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable, I said I will wash my hands, never once did I say it in the present tense!”

“I don’t know, Pontius Pilate.” You shrugged. “This Jesus guy makes a good point.”

When he hissed your real name, you nearly shrank into your seat. “I don’t need any more of this from you. You were the one to tell me he was faking it anyway!”

“You said that?!” Angus yelled. “Jesus, I knew you hated all men.”

“Not true.” You turned around to look at him. “I would’ve said the exact same thing about a woman, especially if I heard her screaming from your room!”

Out of all the times you made a man cry and left him speechless, this one was and forever will be your favorite (obviously he was crying from his arm, but you liked to think your comment also did that). Your father scolded you for your foul mouth, but it was 100% worth it.

There you three sat in the emergency room, waiting for over an hour for a nurse to let you in, when your father started monologuing to himself.

“This is the end. They’ll inform the school, who will inform your parents, and then it’s curtains. You’re gonna get me fired; you.” He looked at Angus, then you. “I hope you like sleeping in the snow, Josephine.”

“I love it more than life itself.” You rolled your eyes.

Angus grumbled. “I’m the one about to lose an arm and all you can think about is yourself.”

“Hey, he was worried about me.” You pointed out.

He turned and glared at you, and you actually felt bad for the first time that day.

A nurse soon approached you, handing your father a clipboard and pen. “If you could just fill this out, please. Admissions and insurance.”

Your father, hesitantly, begins to fill it out. It sounded like a joke at first, having to sleep somewhere else, but honestly what were you going to do? You and your father lived in the faculty housing ever since-.

“-Excuse me?” Angus asked the nurse as she was walking away. “Is there any way we could skip this whole insurance thing?”

“It’s just standard procedure.”

“I understand. But look, we were over at Squantz pond playing hockey, and I slipped on the ice.”

Your father whispered. “Angus, what are you doing?”

But he kept going, glancing at you for a moment. “Our mom told him not to take us, but I made him. Our folks are divorced, and we don’t get to see each other very often. She’ll be mad as a hornet if she finds out.”

The nurse still didn’t let up. “Okay, that’s your business. But we just have certain protocols.”

“Yeah, protocols.” Your father tried to warn.

Angus didn’t listen to either. “Please, we ever get to see my dad. It was my fault, all mine. I don’t want to get him in trouble.” He looked at you. “We can’t have her dragging him to court again.”

You shook your head, swallowing a pretend lump in your throat. “No. Last time was…oh god.”

He looked back at the nurse.  “Can we skip the whole insurance thing? We can pay cash. Right, Dad?”

What a sucker; it took you and Angus to do ‘Kicked Puppy” eyes for a minute, and she was brining the three of you in to the see the doctor in three.

When they were removing his shirt, they told him first look away from the arm, but they didn’t inform you.

“Is it that bad?” He asked upon hearing your audible disgust.

“Not the worst thing I’ve seen in a hospital.”

Your father slugged you, but not hard enough for it to hurt. Still, the whole thing was a blur as they popped Angus’ arm back into its socket. It was dislocated, not broken, and a part of you selfishly wish that it had been just to spare you from the disgusting noises. That and also Angus’s screaming, as if you hadn’t been objectified to that enough.

The three of you were leaving after Angus' arm was tied in a sling, when your father spoke up.

“Barton men don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Angus asked, readjusting his sling.

"Lie."

“Well, I had momentum.”

“Mhm,” he looked at you. “what’s your excuse?”

You shrugged. “I don’t go to Barton, and I’m not a man. Thank God, by the way, considering I hate all of them.”

Even though you said that sarcastically, neither of the men said you were wrong.

When you three made it to the pharmacy, and your father handed over the prescription, the pharmacist went to search for it. Angus lowered his voice, saying to your dad.

“You said that if Woodrup finds out, you and her screwed. So now he won’t find out.”

“What if your parents ask?” You questioned.

“Never going to happen. Trust me.”

Your father raised his brows. “Okay, then. This all remains entre nous. Got it? You know what entre nous means?”

“Oui, monsieur.” He smirked “Now you owe me.”

“Owe you?” Your father gasped. “Do not try to leverage me, Mr. Tully.”

“All I’m looking for is little thank you that I did something nice for you. That’s all.”

You shrugged, deciding you wanted a treat too. “It is Christmas Eve-Eve.”

Your father took you all out to ‘The Winning Ticket’; the classiest tavern within 50 miles. Classy being the less dingy, place in Barton. As your father and ‘Friend of Some Sort’ had a minor debate on underage drinking, you saw the last waitress you wanted approach.

“Miss Crane, as I live and breathe.” Your father sounded amazed as if he saw Aphrodite herself. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hi guys!” She laughed “Yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“Well uh,” he gestured to Angus. “This is Mr. Tully.” Then to you beside him. “And this is-you already know my daughter.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “quite well. My niece knows her too if you can believe that.”

He laughed a little louder than he should have, and you wanted to crawl under the table and bang your head against the metal support until you split your skull open.

“Oh, and sure, I know you.” Miss Crane nodded to Angus.

“Angus Tully,” he smiled. “we met outside of Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet.”

“Well, I didn’t know about the ‘wrongly’ part. I just know that miss Hunham talks a lot about you when she visits.”

Aaand now you wanted to just take any of the silverware off the table (even the spoon would work) and stab yourself.

“Does she?” He teased.

You were quick with a comeback. “About how ridiculously annoying you are. I was baking cookies and Elise nearly crawled into the oven because the things I said about you were just too horrible for her to hear.”

“Now be nice.” Your father said.

“When have I never?”

The three of you ordered (after another discussion about alcohol and underage drinking with Miss Crane this time), and it did not escape you or Angus how your father’s eyes were still on her even after she left.

“Ouch,” Angus smiled. “you two have chemistry.”

“That’s the Percodan talking.” Your father pointed out.

“I don’t know, seeing her like this, I think she’s pretty attractive.”

You gagged, not even having the will to come up with a good comeback, you were so disgusted. Thankfully, your father had one.

“Listen, you hormonal vulgarian, that woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculation.”

You never gave it much thought; your father dating women after your mother died. He just never truly seemed that interested in anyone, and he said it himself, he never goes out. Still…while you do want him to be happy, the woman of interest is your best friend’s aunt-.

Angus pursed his lips. “May I at least go to the bathroom? Sir? “

“You mean the payphone?” Even when he saw Angus’ eyes darken, your father still was not stirred. “Jo March, accompany him, please.”

You sighed. “Why do I have to be his keeper?”

“Because I, Pontius Pilate, washed my hands of him, remember?”

With that being said, you walked with Angus over to the bathrooms, and waited outside with your arms crossed like a child being punished. After a few minutes, he came back out, and the first thing you asked was.

“How’d you lie so easily?”

He gave you a look. “When?”

“The hospital.” You clarified. “You came up with a whole story on the spot that was so convincing, you had a nurse wrapped around your finger within a minute.”

Angus shrugged, beginning to walk away. “You were honestly the icing on the cake.”

“Oh, thank you.” You spoke with sarcasm, following him. “But honestly, you-.”

“-Are you any good at pinball?”

Okay mister ‘Trying to Change the Subject’, you’d play this game (literally and figuratively). “Yeah, I think so.”

He grabbed two dimes from his pocket. “Wanna bet?”

“I guarantee you that’s all the money you have, so there’s nothing to bet.”

“Not exactly.” You both wandered over to the machines. “If I win, you owe me something, and vice versa.”

“And if I wanted you to get out of my life?”

“Done and done, but only If you win, which you won’t.” He put the dimes on top of the machine a guy was playing on.

“Sorry, kid. Next game’s taken.” The many said.

Angus furrowed his brow. “But I just put some dimes down.”

“Don’t care. My buddy’s up next.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“That’s how it works in here. Why don’t you go shoot the other fuckin’ machine?”

“Because I don’t want to shoot the other fuckin’ machine.”

You put your hand on his non-injured arm. “Angus, it’s fine.”

Before he could retaliate, the man lost the game, sighing. “Thanks for fuckin’ up my mojo. Kenny! You’re up.”

“Bullshit.” Angus shook his head. “I put my dimes down, so we’re up next.”

“What was that?” You both looked and saw ‘Kenny’, a drunk man with a hook for his right hand. Shit… “Hey, kiddies,” he snapped his fingers at the both of you. “my eyes are up here.”

His friend snorted. “Look at these fucking kids; spoiled little Barton boy and his prissy girlfriend.”

Not the first nor the last time you were a smartass to a man where it will almost get you killed. “I’ll have you know, gentlemen, he is not my boyfriend; he is the reason I hope every day I become an only child.”

“You know what?” Angus stepped in before Kenny could respond. “You can just take my dime.”

“Take it?” He taunted. “You want me to take your dime? Like it’s charity?”

“No, what I mean is, we could play together.” and let this be known that Angus Tully was not always great at thinking on his feet. “Yeah, you could be my left arm.”

“The fuck did you just say to me?!”

Flinching at his tone, you decided to actually use your brain, for once. “Oh my gosh, I think I hear Dad calling us.” You took Angus’ hand without thinking. “Come on Fitzwilliam, you fucked everything up as always.”

You didn’t care that two, pissed off men were following and yelling at you, you didn’t even care that you were holding Angus’ Tully’s hand and having him trip over his own feet as you pulled him back to your table, you just needed to get out of there.

“Papa,” you call out to your father. “can we go please?”

He hummed at your arrival (and the term of endearment, which you only use if something has gone array).  “Why?”

“Our favorite asshole got us in trouble.”

“Hey!” Kenny shouted at you and Angus. “Why’d you run off? We were just talking to you. Do they teach you manners at that school?”

Hook for hand be damned, your fight or flight instincts kicked in when he put his hand on Angus and you were about to be the reason he’d lose it. Then, Miss Crane stepped in.

“Kenneth, leave them alone, they just came in for some food.”

Still, he looked like he was about to charge the both of you.

Your father stepped in next. “Kenneth, is that right? I don’t doubt that he did something to offend you. It’s his specialty. Perhaps I could purchase you gentlemen something to imbibe, and we could let whatever this unfortunate incident is go the way of the dodo.”

“The what?” The first guy playing pinball asked.

“The dodo,” Angus said. “it’s an extinct bird.”

“What he’s trying to say is,” Miss Crane translated. “he wants to buy you guys a beer.”

It didn’t take long for the two men to consider it. Kenny nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Same here.” His friend agreed. “I’ll have a Miller.”

“The champagne of beers.” Angus smiled, nodding.

It was when everything final cooled down, and as the two men and Miss Crane left to get their drinks, did you notice you were still holding Angus’ hand. Which you let go of as if you were holding fire in the palm of your hand.

He went back to his moody self after that, as you were walking back to the car after finishing dinner (no connection of course).

“Why’d you buy those guys beer? They’re assholes.”

Your father shrugged. “That’s one way to look at it. Here, catch.”

He tossed him the keys, which he caught. Your father continued his lecture, walking ahead of both of you.  “How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off? Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam. They go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not.”

Angus glanced at you. “Except for Curtis Lamb.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb.” Your father repeated his words when they stood outside the car.

“Were you ever in the military?”

“Yes, I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected-I have to get in over there.” He said after failing to open the door on the driver’s side. He walked over to the passenger’s (which you begrudgingly allowed Angus to have this time) side that Angus unlocked. “They made me an air raid warden. Gave me a whistle and everything. Helmet. Arm band.”

You opened the back door and slid into the seats, but Angus stayed outside, asking. “Before we get going, can I be candid with you?”

Your father already was used to that question from you, so he didn’t even look scared when he hummed his approval.

“You smell.” He got into the car. “And it’s really noticeable toward the end of the day. I even smell it on your coat. Mind if I crack the window?”

He didn’t even wait for his response before rolling the window down anyway. Before you could say something snarky to defend your father, he spoke first. “Trimethylaminuria.”

Angus furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“Trimethylaminuria.” He repeated. “Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell. And uh, yes, more toward the end of the day.”

“Wow…your whole life?”

Your father nodded.

“No wonder you’re afraid of women.” Angus said your name, glancing back at you. “How did he marry your mom?”

Your jaw dropped, and only inaudible noises came out at first before you settled on. “I’m too sober for that conversation.”

“For the record,” Your dad interrupted, stunned. “I am not afraid of women, and you shouldn’t be asking a girl personal questions after insulting her father. Jesus.”

Angus nodded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Dr. Getler says I should give more consideration to my audience.”

“Who’s Dr. Getler?” You asked.

“My shrink.”

Your father decided to jump in. “Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a good swift kick in the ass?

He scoffed. “Okay, now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.”

“Something negative about you?”

“Sure, just one thing.”

“Just one?” You and your father questioned.

He nodded, preparing for the absolute worst, but it never came. Your father merely turned back to the front, started the car, and began to make the long drive back to Barton. You weren’t even out of the neighborhood when Angus then asked.

“Fitzwilliam?” He looked at you. “What kind of name is that?”

Your father snickered. “That’s what you called him?”

You shrugged. “The guys thought he was a stuck-up rich boy, but he’s really awkward and looks like he wants to kill himself every time someone looks at him, I had to.”

“He strikes me more as a Hamlet.”

To anyone who didn’t know anything about Shakespeare, that would be a compliment. To you and your father specifically, it made you laugh. Of course Angus Tully would be one of the most overdramatic characters in theatre.

“Seriously,” the boy in question said tiredly. “who the hell is Fitzwilliam?”

Your father shook his head. “My advice, Mr. Tully? Brush up on the classics; Pride and Prejudice would be a good place to start.”

None of you had the strength to do much more that night besides spending time in your rooms before bed. It was as you were a few chapters into Little Women, did you wonder.

“Why were you and my dad yelling at each other this afternoon?”

Angus looked up from his copy of Popular Mechanics to see you in the doorway once you asked that question. You both were both just wearing your pajamas and socks; outfits you had only seen each other in for either a short number of times, in dimmed lighting, or with jackets over.

It felt different this time…stranger, even.

“Hello to you too.” He greeted, setting the magazine down.

“Well?”

Pursing his lips, he didn’t look at you at first before saying. “I was calling a hotel.”

“Your mom’s?”

“No, one in Boston.”

“Why would you…?” The look on his face said it all. That look of regret and pity that you didn’t understand what he meant right away. “Oh…”

You wanted nothing more than to have said it with disgust, but it was disappointment that laced the word. Then, with a mix of anger and even hurt.

“Am I that insufferable to be around?”

He shot his head up. “What? No.”

“Seems like it.” You scoffed, beginning to pace around the room. “What happened to ‘Friends of some sort’? I asked you if we were fine because I felt like you’d gone quiet, and you said we were. I get it; you asked me to tell you the craziest thing that happened to me, and I should’ve just said ‘I got slightly drunk at a party’, not everything. You barely tell me anything about yourself, and then I just go and throw out the shittiest things that have happened to me. It’s not fair, and I’m sorry-.”

“-My father’s dead.”

Nothing could’ve gotten you to shut up faster.

It caused you such a shock, that you sat down on the bed beside him, staring at him. His gaze changed in a matter of seconds; when he first told you and you looked at him, you’d never seen anyone surer. Then, as shock settled into you, discomfort did for him. You let the quietness between you linger for a moment, terrified of your own response.

“I…I had a feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were expecting him to immediately respond, but he didn’t. You debated on just sitting in the silence, or crawling back into your room and pretending this didn’t happen, when Angus finally spoke up.

“I was thirteen, he was…really, really sick for some time but then it just happened so fast and…I don’t really like talking about it, I’m sorry-.”

“-No, I shouldn’t have pressured you-.” You relented first, and ff the circumstances weren’t bleak, it would be funny how you both spoke over each other.

“-You weren’t, you told me something about yourself and I should’ve-.”

“-You aren’t in debt or some bullshit to share anything with me-.”

“-I just haven’t really told people that before-.”

“-Your arm wasn’t the worst thing I saw in a hospital.” You decided to break the loop, and it was successful. “My mother was sick too and…” You chuckled, but felt tears prick your eyes all of a sudden at the thought. “God, she’ll haunt me for this, but she was so skinny the last time I saw her…Cancer. She and my dad were debating on if I should see her like that before she goes, and I won the argument in the end that, yes, I needed to say goodbye. I’m glad I did, no, that’s not what I think of when I think of her but…it scared me. I was eleven.”

He nodded, listening without interruption; a skill that seemed he only acquired during these small moments of vulnerability. Well, you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself vulnerable; you were merely answering his questions truthfully based on your experiences (of course; no vulnerability whatsoever. You didn’t open yourself up to others outside of your father and Mary, why would you to Angus Tully?)

“I went to the chapel before anyone else woke up and I just couldn’t stop staring at the picture of Curtis Lamb…I can’t even say it got me thinking about death or anything like that I just…I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I felt weird and wanted to run away.”

“I get that.”

“I’m sorry for trying to get a hotel by the way,” he apologized again. “if that matters.”

You gave him a smile. “It does.”

For the first time in a while, you thought you saw him smile too; a genuine one, mind you, not the shit-eating grin he often gave you and everyone else. It was then you decided to get up and head to bed, bidding him goodnight. Then, again, you stopped in the doorway from another thought.

“What were you going to call me?”

“Huh?” He perked his head up.

“When you were crying about being stuck over here for Christmas?” You alluded. “You and my father are losers, Mary’s a grieving mom, but what am I?”

His eyes drifted in thought, then back to you. “‘Your know-it-all daughter.’ That’s what I was gonna say.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling as you backed out into your room. “I do know all, Angus Tully.”

You couldn’t see his face anymore when you went to your bed, but you heard his sarcastic ‘Goodnight’ with him saying your full name, and your chest felt lighter than it did the night prior to talking with him.

…What the hell was happening to you?

You were giddy, you giggled to yourself about nothing and had to hide your mouth under the blanket so Angus wouldn’t hear you in the other room. For a moment, when asking him what he would’ve called you, you wanted him to say ‘pretty’. So much shit happened that day, but the one thing, the one thing that your mind goes back to is taking his hand, and not letting go until you realized-…

…No…

No…

Oh, what the fuck?!

Oh god!

Once you were happy about having a newfound crush on Angus Tully, and now you were in absolute agony.

What a wonderful way to spend Christmas Eve-Eve.

[anyarose011]

Emotional Motion Sickness {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: When it's only you, your father, Mary, and Angus left behind at Barton for Christmas, you and the boy (who you were an asshole to, but in all fairness, he was one to you too) decide to get to know each other; whilst sneaking around the school.

Part 3 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Teddy Kountze (but not for long), swearing, underage drinking, mentions of past harassment, mention of pornography, and extremely long monologues that I think would be great audition material because I'm delusional :) .

Come get y'all juice (this shit was so much longer than I expected). This may be part 3 in the series, but this is part 1 of songs that are Agnus Tully/Reader coded. And also part 2 of you guys not being able to escape being an awkward teenager just because this is fanfiction. Enjoy!

Word Count: 7.1k

You didn’t talk to anyone the day after you told Angus Tully he didn’t have any friends (well…of course you talked to your father and Mary, but the boys? No; not even the freshmen).

It was warranted; you punched Teddy in the face, you ignored Jason, and Ye-Joon and Alex were probably afraid of you at that point. Angus had the biggest excuse of them all of course, and while you actually felt bad (to your own surprise), you couldn’t bring yourself to actually approach and apologize at the time. Call it pride, call it cowardice, but you suddenly felt so ashamed you couldn’t even speak to him.

So, save for the talks you had with Mary in preparing meals, the nighttime check-ins with your father, you kept your nose stuck in a book. You ignored Teddy’s glare (while also checking over your shoulder every time you passed by him), only gave slight nods to the younger boys, and Jason didn’t even bother talking to you about what he said the day before. Angus, apparently despite not talking to each other, had perhaps the most civilized of silent discussions with you. You would only make eye contact with each other…but somehow, just somehow, there was a bit of understanding between the two of you.

You also had given him your spare toothpaste along with his payment of chocolates and cigarettes for waking you up because you noticed that he was running low. He gave you this…look. Not one of disgust, but he was confused beyond belief, and you swore he was in his own little world as you talked about your reasoning and all he did was stare at you.

Weirdo.

The day after that, making it the sixth day of being stuck at the school, you were sitting on a stool in the kitchen, reading to Mary as she prepped for lunch. “‘Reader, I married him. A quiet wedding we had: he and I, the parson and clerk, were alone present. When we got back from church, I went into the kitchen of the manor-house, where Mary was cooking the dinner and John cleaning the knives, and I said— ‘Mary, have you ever been in love before?’”

You paused, looking up from your book and watching as the Mary in front of you was doing what the Mary in the book was doing; cleaning the knives. She glanced back at you upon your quietness, giving you the eye.

“And? What did she say?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I’m waiting for her to answer.”

Scoffing, she turned away. “You’re not that funny you know.”

“Yet you’re hiding your smile.”

“Am not.”

“Well have you?”

“Have what?”

“Been in love?”

She huffed. “I’m too sober for that conversation.”

“There’s some wine in the chapel-.”

Mary turned, pointing a knife at you. “-Don’t you dare.”

“What?! It’s not consecrated!”

“Still, you’re a baby, you can’t drink that stuff.”

“I’m going to technically graduate in a few months.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Sighing overdramatically, you leaned against the wall. “Can you just give me a yes or no?”

She turned and headed back to the counter she was at, looking at you. “Yes, I’ve been in love before.”

“When you were young?”

“Am I not young now?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes.” She began to chop vegetables.

“Was it scary?”

“Kind of.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It happened later for me than most of my friends, so that’s probably why.”

Before you could ask another complex question, a humming noise caught your ear. You thought you were going insane at first until it had also apparently got Mary’s. After taking one glance at each other, you both followed the sound, and it led you to the nearest window.

Outside, in the sky, a yellow helicopter flew above you.

The next thing you knew, as you and Mary were rushing to the library to ask your father ‘What in God’s name is going on?’, you ran into everyone in the middle of the main hall, including a man you had never seen before.

Apparently, Jason’s father cracked and decided to come pick his son up for Christmas at the ski lodge. He also offered to take the rest of The Boys Left Behind. So, there you were after Mary left, deciding to stand outside with the rest of them as Jason, his dad, and your father sat in the administrative office, calling up everyone and their mother (quite literally).

“So, Hunham,” Teddy asked, his voice so grating you would rather claw your brain out with a fork than have to listen to him. “what’re you gonna do when all of us go skiing? Take some pictures?”

You shook your head, not letting it get under your skin. “No, I’ll probably spend time with Elise.”

“Elise?” The boys questioned.

“Yeah, we met in middle school.”

“Is she anything like you or is she pretty?” Teddy prodded.

Angus rolled his eyes. “I don’t think she’d really want to hang around a cesspool like you.”

Holy shit…he was actually standing up for you? Even after you told him he didn’t have any friends? Perhaps men hadn’t failed you completely (your most famous last words of this entire winter break…maybe not for the most part, but still).

You snorted, crossing your arms while still holding Jane Eyre. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you meet her, Kountze.”

Before he could even attempt a comeback, your father came out through the door, and turned to the boys. “Well, good news gentlemen. I was able to reach Dr. Woodrup and your parents;” He glanced at Angus for a second. “Most of them, anyway. I recommend all of you go pack, have a merry Christmas.”

The rest of the boys, including Jason who exited with his dad, raced past one another; all except Angus. You could see how he tried to hide his growing disappointment and went to the first stage of grief; denial.

“Could you try them again?” He asked your father.

Paul Hunham took a deep breath. “Alright.” He turned to Jason’s father, both men uttering a ‘Merry Christmas’, before yours went back into the office. Leaving you outside with Angus.

He leaned against the wall, folding his arms. Well…this was your chance to try and be nice to him again.

“If they don’t pick up, just tell him to keep calling.” You suggested.

Angus looked at you, shrugging. “Yeah, that was my plan already.”

“I always annoy him until I get what I want. Usually works for me.”

“So why aren’t you in Copenhagen?”

“…You.” There was a silence between the both of you, and to your surprise, you had to bite your tongue not because of anger, but to stop yourself from laughing. You gave him a nod. “I hope you get to go skiing; even if Kountze will be there.”

Not giving him time to respond, you walked right past him to your room in the infirmary. In your mind, best case scenario, everyone would go skiing and you and your dad would somehow make it to Copenhagen; middle case scenario, everyone would go skiing but you’d be left in Barton with Mary and your dad; worst case scenario, you were stuck with Angus…at Barton, over Christmas break.

While he was the one that irked you the least out of the boys your age, you weren’t really in the mood to be with him until the middle of January.

It was as you were sitting on the edge of your bed, reading the rest of Jane Eyre, when someone knocked on your door. Glancing up, you saw Alex. Smiling, you asked.

“You ready to go?”

He nodded, then walked into the room, holding out your mittens. “Sorry I forgot to give them back.”

You took them, standing and smiling. “No, you’re alright. If I’m honest, I would’ve let you keep them while you were here.”

“Are you and Angus going to be okay?”

Giving him a look, you chuckled. “Well, if there’s a god, then hopefully that means he’ll go with you guys.”

At that moment, both of your eyes were drawn to the doorway when you heard heavy footsteps and watched as Angus Tully stormed past.

“Okay, guess there isn’t.” You grumbled, then went back to sweet. “Don’t worry though, we’ll be civil with each other.”

“I think you should be friends.”

Well…that was unexpected. Still, you snickered. “Alex, are you saying neither of us have friends already? And I thought you were nice.”

“No just,” he sighed. “I heard Ye-Joon crying a few nights go, Angus told him friends are overrated, and Ye-Joon told me that Angus had been kicked out of a lot of schools…I don’t know.”

You nodded, completely understanding. “I’ll be nicer to him; I promise you that. Now go have a great Christmas.”

He grinned from ear to ear, unexpectedly hugging you. After freezing for just a moment, you hugged him back before pulling away. You bid each other goodbye, and he went running back to his room to pack. A few seconds later, it was Jason who was in your room.

“Hey.” He greeted.

“Hello.”

He stood there stiffly, almost as if he was nervous for the first time in his life. “Um…I just wanted to say sorry.”

This intrigued you. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Jason fiddled with the bag in his hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you; Teddy was an asshole, end of story.”

You gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

The silence between you was different; not one of comfort, but not exactly discomforting either. Though, it was becoming that the more time dragged on.

“You know,” he grinned, and you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or a joke. “if we hurry, I could probably sneak you on?”

You merely kept your face the same; a pitiful, upturned mouth. “Merry Christmas, Jason.”

He nodded, taking the hint, wishing you a ‘Merry Christmas’ back, and left. Not exactly the best apology to receive, but you were more than happy you got one. Also happy that he didn’t call you names for refusing his advances; bare minimum, but welcome to the early 1970s.

Teddy followed soon after him, and he stopped in your doorway, turning his head to you. He only managed to take a breath to speak before you beat him to it.

“I hope you fall off the fucking ski lift, snap your fucking neck, and never recover.”

He only smiled. “I hope your business goes well. Tell Daniel I said ‘hi’.”

And that was the last time you saw him that Christmas break. He did indeed fall off a ski lift and snap his neck.

He didn’t actually, but you wished he did. When he walked past you, Ye-Joon was next, and you both just uttered a quick ‘Merry Christmas’, before he left. Knowing that Tully was still in the room, you decided it was best to avoid him, and went back to your father.

“No luck?” You asked him.

He shook his head. “No luck.”

Sighing, you glanced down at the floor. Great…it was official; you were still stuck with at least one boy who would for sure not have his brain developed until he was thirty at the youngest (or so you thought).

“Do you want to see the helicopter take off?” Your father asked.

You nodded, not knowing what else to do. So, that was how you found yourself, your father, and Angus (who surprisingly crawled out of the room to also watch it take off), in the snowy quad, watching as the ‘Boys Left Behind’ became the ‘Boys Who Are Now in a Damn Helicopter Going Skiing’. You thought the last title had a better sound to it.

Your father sighs from beside you, turning to look at you in the middle, and Angus to your right. “Well, let’s make the best of it.”

He went in soon after that, leaving you and Angus alone together. You wanted to say something, you probably should’ve. Yet, in all honesty, you had nothing to say, and you knew that if you forced yourself to come up with something, it would’ve been bad.

So that’s why you didn’t even look at him when you left. That’s why you avoided him for the rest of the day, luckily being able to spend most of it with Elise and doing nothing but making Christmas cookies with her and miss Crane (even though she’d already made more than enough to give to the teachers. They were…fine when your dad gave you one), and muting channels from the TV and voicing over them.

You and Elise had done that since you were kids…which actually wasn’t that long ago when you were still doing it.

When you got back, you helped Mary with dinner, than all ate in silence; save for your father trying to make conversation about your day since you were truly the only one out of all of you to have an interesting day.

That’s when the four of you found yourself in the teacher’s lounge; you reading Little Women, your father and Mary watching The Newlywed Game, and Angus reading Popular Mechanics in a chair far away from you.

As you were disappearing into your second read of the book, it was Mary who brought you out of it.

“Your daughter asked me an invasive question today.”

You looked up in alarm at the accusation. Paul Hunham sighed, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “And what, pray tell, was it this time?”

“Asked if I’d ever been in love.”

Your father said your name warningly. Of course, you defended with. “We were reading Jane Eyre! If I was reading this,” you held up your book. “I would’ve asked if she ever rejected a man before. I already know the answer, but still.”

“You know the answer?” Mary laughed.

“You probably had to beat them off of you back in the day, you were so pretty.”

“Were?”

“Fine wine, miss Lamb.” You hung upside down, tossing your feet over the back of the couch. “You age like fine wine.”

 “Stop that.” She scoffed lovingly, then asked your father, almost as if it was a joke. “What about you?”

You looked at him. “Oh, I sure hope he’s been in love.”

“Well,” he said your name. “you know, it was purely for economic reasons at first, but then-.” The pillow you threw at him caused him to chuckle before continuing. “Yes, Josephine March, I was greatly enamored by your mother.”

“What was your favorite thing about her?”

“Everything.”

“Oh, come off it.” You rolled your eyes.

“Well then, if you’re going to be like that, then it’s her laugh.”

You sat up. “That’s such a basic fucking-!”

“-Hey!” Both him and Mary started.

In the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Angus smile for just a second. Your father continued. “I’ll tell you why her laugh was my favorite; it’s because she barely did.”

When you thought of it…she really only laughed around you. Were you that funny or did she just love you that much? Either way, you were more than happy about it. Your father continued.

“She announced in front of an entire class that she would more than likely laugh while being stuck in a brazen bull, then listening to my jokes. That was the first thing she said to me, and it’s still one of my favorite memories.”

Mary chimed in. “Not your wedding day?”

You and her shared a knowing look, trying not to burst out in laughter as your father just smoked his pipe, nodding. No time to unpack that.

“But you know, there’s more to falling in love than just with people.” He started soon to clear the air. “Imagine it, like a monk: forgoing sensual pleasures for the achievement of spiritual goals.”

“Spiritual goals, you?” Mary questioned. “What spiritual goals are we talking about? You go to church?”

“Only when required.”

“Exactly.” She mumbled. “Me having to save your daughter’s soul every Sunday since she was a kid.”

You only went because she’d take you and Curtis out to lunch every Sunday.

“When’s the last time you even left campus?” Mary asked him.

He almost looked offended. “I go into town all the time.”

“Oh!”

“For groceries, and errands, and various appointments.”

“Jane Bennett over here can’t drive and she gets out more than you.”

“Okay yes,” he sighed. “I don’t leave campus often. I don’t really feel the need.”

Mary nodded. “Let me ask you something. If you could go anywhere on earth, where would you go?”

“Well, we were supposed to go to Copenhagen…” nearly left your lips, but then your eyes caught Angus again, and looked away soon when his sight met yours.

“Oh,” your father grinned. “Greece, Italy, Egypt, Peru, Carthage, Tunisia now, of course. In college I started a monograph on Carthage. I’d like to finish that someday. A monograph is like a book only shorter.”

“I know what a monograph is.” Mary answered tiredly.

“Why not just write a book?”

That was the first thing you heard Angus say after hours of silence.

Your father shook his head. “I’m not sure I have an entire book in me.”

“You can’t even dream a whole dream, can you?” Mary asked.

If it were any other day, you would’ve laughed. But for some reason (that reason being you staring at Angus Tully), you didn’t. Still, once the two of you made eye-contact, you shot your gaze back to the TV, and then down to your book for the rest of the night.

What a strange person (he probably thought the same as you).

Your father agreed to let you sleep in the free room of the infirmary on account of the fact Teddy and Jason were gone. He made the joke too that you could “Finally sleep” as if you already hadn’t been sneaking out to get sleep. Still, even though you could no longer hear his snores, you found yourself more awake than ever that night.

When you were a child, you used to go on nightly excursions. Those being where you’d walk down the stairs of your old house and see everything in the dark; a familiar place becoming the unfamiliar and realizing just how taller everything was compared to you.

You cried the first time that you did it, and your mother rushed down to comfort you; your father, of course, slept like a rock. You still went on the little adventures though.

So…why not do it at Barton? Surely you were old enough you wouldn’t cry this time?

Tiptoeing through the halls and into your father’s room after throwing on your boots and jacket, you somehow managed to grab the keys and flashlight without him hearing you. Then you saw the bottle of whiskey by his bed; checks out.

As you were exiting through the hall, you passed by Angus’ room. You stopped in the doorway, contemplating. Would he be more pissed at you for waking him up, or for leaving him out? Well…only one way to find you.

In the same way you did on the first night, you shook him awake. He flinched a little when he saw you but wasn’t completely frazzled. “What?” He groaned, more so out of exhaustion than annoyance.

All you did was hold up the ring of keys to him.

That got him to sit up, and you managed to smile, tilting your head back to the door. It still astounds you to this day just how quickly you both could communicate without having to say a single word. He got on his coat and shoes, and the pair of you were soon off, traversing down the halls. Your first stop was the teacher’s lounge.

“I just want to check on Mary.” You explained.

“Why?”

“Because she checks up on us.”

And he didn’t argue; poor, tall child was just happy to have some freedom for the first time in almost a week. So, you both just quickly peered into the teacher’s lounge, and sure enough, she was sleeping on the couch with the TV on. You both tiptoed out of there and into the darkened hallway.

“Turn on the light.” He whispered to you.

“I’m trying.” You felt around for the switch, and then heard a ‘bump!’ in front of you followed by cursing.

“Shit!” Your heart jumped. “What did you do?!”

“Just turn on the light!”

You did, and you saw him hunched over, cradling his left elbow. You made a face. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just maybe turn the flashlight on before going into a dark place?”

Oh, hell no, you weren’t taking that amount of sass. “Well maybe you should stop being so tall and stupid. Jesus wept, you make the ground shake every time you walk.”

He scoffed, though an etching of a smile played on his lips when he knocked on the wall beside you.

“What’re you doing?” You asked.

“She’s not going to wake up. It’s fine.”

“Still, I don’t wanna risk it.”

“Okay,” he shrugged his shoulders. “then could I have the light? Seeing that you can’t handle it?”

Oh, what a little shit. Rolling your eyes, you handed it to him, to which he immediately turned over his shoulder and started skipping down the hallway, making quite a lot of noise.

“Angus Tully, I swear to God!” You rushed after him.

He led you into the kitchen, but you led him to the freezer and the large tub of vanilla ice cream the cooks only used for ‘Special Occasions’. You grabbed spoons off the counter and ate from the tub for a few good minutes without saying a word to each other.

When you were finished, he asked. “Where else were you thinking of going?”

 “I’m not sure.” You then glanced over to one of the ‘Staff Only’ doors. “I got an idea.”

After using the keys to unlock it, the door led down into a dimly lit tunnel. You went down first, the cold hitting your skin and you zipped your jacket up. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Angus still up at the top.

“Well come on, you’re the one with the light.”

That seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in, and he walked down the steps.

“How’d you know this was here?”

“That’s for me to know.”

And you just walked ahead of him.

He scoffed. “So, I don’t get to find out?”

“Nope.”

The tunnel was much longer than you initially thought it would be, but when you both got to the first door you’d seen, you were led into the sacristy of the chapel. Instantly, Agnus set down the flashlight and opened up the cabinet, taking out the chalice and jug of wine.

You snorted. “What a faithful altar boy you are.”

“Of course I am.” He responded, pouring the wine into the chalice and taking a huge gulp of it. “Want some?”

You tensed at first but responded quick enough. “Sure.”

He poured the wine into the chalice and took a small sip. It wasn’t as bad as when you first tried it; in fact, it was pretty good. You finished most of it after bringing it to your lips again.

“You’ve never had it before, haven’t you?” He grinned like the little shit he was (still is).

Shaking your head, you handed it back to him. “Just not in a while.”

You both got quickly bored in the sacristy after Angus had another drink of wine and went back through the door into the tunnel.

“Do you think someone died down here?” You questioned.

“If you’re trying to scare me, you’re doing a shitty job at it.” He answered.

“That sounds like something someone who’s terrified of ghosts would say.”

Sooner than you thought you would, and after a solid minute of you two going back and forth about the existence of ghosts, you found another door, which led you up into the auditorium. You’d only been there once for Curtis’ graduation the year prior, and you hadn’t step foot in there since then. Angus immediately went to the piano, sitting down at it and looking out to the sea of seats. You approached him leaning against the grand piano. He brought out a pack of the cigarettes you’d gotten him and a lighter.

“Mind if I have one?” You asked.

He nodded, placing a cigarette between his lips and then handing you one. He lit it for you, and you brought it up to your mouth. Somehow, you hadn’t coughed, and you were proud of yourself; you let your curiosity get the best of you, but it hadn’t killed you yet. Angus pressed a few keys on the piano, and you chuckled.

“You play?” You questioned.

“Not since I was ten. You know how?”

“Nope; all I know is Roman history and how to annoy men, apparently.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Can I ask you a question after you do?”

“Sure.”

“Go ahead.”

He takes a puff from his cigarette before asking. “Why the book names?”

Chuckling, you shook your head. “It’s just always been a thing my mom did; they all mean different things. Countess Natalya when I’m being overdramatic, Jo March for my dad, Jane Bennett for Mary, Emma Woodhouse when I’m being stubborn, things like that.”

“Should I call you something then?” He teased.

“I’d prefer just my name from you, thank you very much.” You played along back, walking around the piano and plopping yourself down on the wooden floor. He soon sank down to be at your level, finding it awkward to sit above you. “Okay, my question.”

He nodded. “Shoot.”

“Why did you and Teddy get into a fight at the beginning of break?”

Sighing, he rolled his eyes. “Asshole stole my family picture and I knew it but he kept denying it; might’ve said some shitty things to him, but it’s not like they weren’t true.”

“What’d you say?”

“That he was a sociopath, and his family didn’t want him around.”

You almost choked on your cigarette but laughed. “Damn, that’s brutal.”

“Smith had to pull us apart, it was apparently that bad.”

Scoffing, you said. “You and him had to hold Teddy back after I punched him.”

“Asshole.” He muttered.

“Asshole.” You repeated.

Silence passed by the both of you for the hundredth time that day, and that was when you spoke up.

“I’m sorry I’ve been a bit of a jerk these last few days.” He arched his brow, and you just went on. “To be honest, you have been too, but I’ve been a bigger one; especially today. I wanted to say something before but…I didn’t want to be more of a bitch than I already was.”

He shook his head. “You’re not; I was kind of a dick when I first met you.”

“Kind of?”

“Okay, a lot.” He admitted. “It was honestly stupid luck I got that question when you first showed up at Barton, and I got carried away with bragging.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” You repeated his words from a few days ago. “You’re actually the smartest out of all of them.”

“Really?”

“Not even close to me, but still.” You held out your hand. “Friends of some sort?”

He shook it. “Friends of some sort.”

You both pulled away, and after taking another drag of your cigarette you said. “I actually don’t know jack shit about you.”

“That a fact?”

“Yeah, and since we’re going to be stuck here for a while, I think that should change. How about this?” you scooted closer to him. “We ask each other questions. Simple at first, but more and more, we go a little deeper. How does that sound?”

He huffed. “Sounds like a regular conversation.”

“We get to refuse to answer one question.” You added. “Everything else after is free game. Sound more exciting?”

Angus nodded. “Alright, what’s your favorite color?”

“Pass.”

“Are you serious?”

“Fuck no.” You laughed, giving him your favorite color then asking him. “Favorite book?”

He responded much faster than you thought he would. “Catch-22.”

“Ah, a man of culture. Thank God, I thought I’d have to stop talking to you.”

Angus shook his head, chuckling. “If you could be an animal, what would you be?”

Ah��a bit of a stranger one, but you like that. You thought more on it, then gave him your answer. He nodded.

“Yeah, seems like you’d be one.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” You answered in a dead pan, and broke character the second you saw his face fall. “Just messing with you. Favorite childhood memory?”

He paused at that but didn’t show any sign of discomfort. Hesitance, yes, but he was taking more time thinking about your (frankly bizarre) question. Then, he answered.

“My dad took me on a fishing trip when I was twelve. Just for the weekend out in the woods with a small cabin. Talked to me about what it meant to be a man, telling me what he was like as a kid…I don’t even like fishing.”

The short story, even though it wasn’t yours, brought a nostalgic smile to your face for a moment. “I tried fishing once; not really my thing either.”

“Mr. Hunham took you fishing?” The look on his face made you laugh.

“Oh god no.” You shook your head. “Curtis did.”

Angus blinked upon the name. “Mary’s kid?”

“You’ve already asked a question.”

“What?”

“I just asked you what your favorite memory was as a kid, you asked me if my dad took me fishing. It’s my question now. Technically, I can ask two in a row because you just asked me what I meant.” It was your turn to have the shit-eating grin.

“I…” He tried not to laugh, unable to believe it. “So, our friendship is basically transactional?”

“Huh?”

“You’re having us say that if one of us asks two questions in a row, even if one isn’t really about getting to know the other-.”

“-It was about getting to know me; you asked if my dad took me fishing.”

“That’s a transactional relationship, not really a conversation.”

“Are you trying to explain to me what a conversation is, Tully?” You furrowed your brow, stomping out your cigarette. “Do you really believe women are that stupid?”

He shrugged. “Maybe, considering how you just asked three questions in a row.”

Never in your life (at least recently) had something thrown you off balance so drastically. You counted on your fingers, jogging your memory, and yes, you indeed answered three questions: freeing him from yours. You both made eye contact, and with the same, unspoken language, you both laughed. It took you a bit longer to recover, to which you then asked.

“Okay, and you can ask me two questions, do you genuinely think women are stupid?”

Angus shook his head, his cigarette on its last leg. “Everyone’s stupid in their own special way.”

“How poetic of you.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”

“Shut up and ask me a stupid question because you’re so stupid.”

He threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out before turning to you. “Craziest thing that happened to you?”

Your face dropped for a moment at the question, before it soon morphed into a nervous smile. “It’s what made my dad start homeschooling me.”

Angus raised his brows. “If it’s not a fun memory than-.”

“-No it’s alright.”

“If anything,” you thought to yourself. “it’ll make me see who you really are.”

You set the scene. “You’ve been in eighth grade, right?”

“I though you said I could ask two questions-?”

“-For fuck’s sake, Tully.”

“Yes,” he grinned. “I’ve been in eighth grade, surprisingly.”

“Well, you probably remember how much we thought we were hot shit at that age, right?” You didn’t give him time to respond. “My friend Elise is Miss Crane’s niece, Miss Crane the secretary.”

“Yeah, I know who she is.”

“Elise only comes to live with her during winter and summer breaks. I met her when we were like twelve, and we were immediately inseparable. Summer of eighth grade going into high school, she takes this theatre summer camp hosted by some kids at Ridgeway.”

Angus scoffed. “That fucking shithole? My roommate had some of his friends over who went there; assholes.”

“Oh, that’s not the half of it.” You rolled your eyes. “So, one of the counsellors, I don’t know I think her name was like…Gloria, or something, really liked her, and invited her to a party she and the other theatre kids were having. She told Elise that she could bring anyone that she wanted. Elise thought that other campers were being invited, so she asked me because…okay shoot me, I liked theater growing up. Now Elise wasn’t going to Ridgeway for high school, but I was, so she thought it’d be great for me to meet the people. That’s what she told my dad and her aunt; that it was a part of the camp. God, we spent hours getting ready, I look at pictures that Miss Crane took of us, and we didn’t even look that good,”

You and Angus paused to relish your chuckling before continuing. “but what mattered was that we were excited. Miss Crane drove us to the house at seven, said she’d pick us up by ten, and then left. The only people there were us, Gloria, and two of the other counselors; one being her boyfriend, Bobby fucking Nolan. So, it was awkward for the first hour because, of course Gloria wasn’t supposed to invite two eighth graders, but it’s fine because she said ‘Elise is cool, so her friend’s probably cool’. I wanted us to call someone to take us home because there was a misunderstanding, hell, the counsellor that wasn’t Gloria’s boyfriend even offered to, but Elise said she wanted to stay. I wasn’t leaving her behind, so I stayed too. It actually got fun after that. It was more than obvious I was uncomfortable, so they asked me to pick a board game for us to play when waiting for other people, and I picked Clue. It went on for a while, and people started showing up, so it was really just me, Bobby fucking Nolan, and another random kid playing with us because the others, including Elise, left. Bobby said that I was purposefully hiding my cards because he assumed some things weren’t adding up. He did this the whole game, and he’d try to be teasing, but he always sounded like he was accusing me of murder. Which, okay, a part of the game but you know what I mean. I got fed up with it, so I told him a bit more aggressively that I wasn’t lying. This asshole reaches over and squeezes me here.”

Scooting closer to Angus where your face was just a foot away from his, you pointed to the base of your neck where your clavicle is. “So I freak out of course, and he just started laughing, saying he found out that’s a ticklish spot for everyone. My stomach started feeling weird, and I…a year before that, my dad told me that if I ever started feeling sick out of nowhere, whether it was because of a person or situation, than I’d leave. Doesn’t matter what, I’d just go. So, I say I have to go to the bathroom, get Elise, she sees that I’m starting to freak out, and we try to find Gloria, her friend, or just anyone who’d want to take us home. Bobby finds us instead, he’s lit, and he won’t let us out of his sight. He was joking at first, and I’m fucking terrified at this point, so Elise has to tell him we’re going home. He’s getting pushy now, and it takes him calling her a ‘bitch’ for people to notice. So, thank God, some of the others pull him away to calm him down because he looked like he’d start swinging, and one of the girls took pity on us and drove us to Elise’s house because we were supposed to have a sleepover. I was crying at this point, so I begged Miss Crane to call Mary, not my dad, she picked me up, I told her everything, she brought me home, told my dad, and the next day I told him everything I told Mary. He said I did the right thing in leaving and was pissed at the school. So, he called them, got most of the kids there in trouble; all except Bobby fucking Nolan. Because Bobby Nolan’s mom was screwing the principal, and technically besides underage drinking and minor harassment, he didn’t do anything wrong in the school’s eyes; so, he just got a few days’ worth of detention, but even then, that was probably wiped from his records…He was a freshman going into sophomore year, so if I went to Ridgeway, I’d be stuck with him for three years…everything else checks out.”

The silence was deafening. Angus had a face you had never seen on him before. “I…shit, that’s fucked up.”

Just like with everything else you did when things became too serious (because it was only then you realized that you just told him something that was somewhat traumatic and not funny), you made it funny.

“Oh fuck, you asked me about the craziest thing that happened to me. Sorry, I forgot to say that I was like a little tipsy throughout all of that.”

“What?!”

No one ever said you landed the punchline all the time. Still, you tried.

“Now I know that sounds bad-.”

“-It is bad. You were like what, fourteen?”

“…Thirteen.”

“Oh my god.” He groaned.

“How old were you when you first drank?”

“Sixteen.”

“That’s like three years.”

“It’s about maturity.”

“Oh,” you snickered. “and you have a lot of that?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, maybe I do."

Rolling your eyes, you said. “Go ahead.”

“What?”

“Ask your other question. No, that one doesn’t count, I’m actually tired of the rules I set up.”

He was still, understandably, thrown off about all that you told him. Still, he went. “How’d you know about the tunnels?”

“Curtis Lamb. We were friends for a while, and he told me he and some other kids would explore them. Mary never found out somehow.”

“Why’d you stop being friends?”

You shrugged. “We didn’t, he just died. Did your mom and dad get a divorce or…?”

You were always a hardball when it came to being blunt.

Angus tensed. “Pass.”

“Okay.”

“Can I ask about the letter?”

Oh…oh…

Well…what a spot you put yourself in…

“Pass.” You said without hesitation. Had he said that to get back at you for asking a stupid question or did he actually want to know?

Still, he respected it. “Your turn.”

And you decided to be slightly less bold, but not back down completely. “Have you been kicked out of school before?”

To your surprise, he wasn’t angry when you asked. A bit smug even. “Oh, who told you?”

“Alex.”

“Figures. Yeah, three.”

“Why?”

“‘Unruly behavior, instigating fights, stealing school property.’” He rolled his eyes. “If I get kicked out of this one, it’s off to military school.”

You nodded. “So maybe don’t then.”

“Seems like a plan.”

“When did your mom marry your stepfather?”

“Just last summer; that’s why they’re taking their honeymoon now. She’d only been with him for six months.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “Just lonely I guess.”

You furrowed your brow. “She had you.”

He didn’t say anything, he stopped looking at you too. Well, new tactic now.

“What you did was nice a few nights ago.” Like Pavlov’s dog, he looked up at you. “Helping Ye-Joon out.”

His eyes drifted. “It was nothing.”

“It was everything to him and it meant something to me. It meant that you’re not a complete asshole you try to be, and I don’t know why you try to be one, but you’re not.” You saw right through him, and you both knew it. Still, to save face a little while longer, you added. “I’m sorry too about saying you didn’t have friends.”

“It’s fine-.”

“-No, it’s not, because I felt like shit as soon as I said it, and it’s a shitty thing to say to anyone.”

He stared at you the same way he did when you gave him toothpaste, and it unnerved you even more. Had anyone ever apologized to him?

“Thanks.” Was his reply, and the two of you stopped asking questions. You both sat in the auditorium for perhaps a small moment’s silence when he said. “I uh…we should probably get back.”

You nodded, getting up. “Yeah, sounds good.”

The two of you tried to make it seem like you’d never been there and made your way back down into the tunnel. The walk seemed much longer than it had previously, the two of you not seeming to have anything to say until Angus went-.

“I threw out the skin mag.”

Well…the actual last thing you thought you would hear from him that night.

You stopped in your tracks. “Huh?”

He didn’t look at you as he confessed. “I stole Kountze’s cigarettes to trade for it and practically waved it in his face the first few days. I know it’s none of my business, but after he read the letter…I just felt bad about it.”

What on God’s green earth were you supposed to say? Apparently, after a few moments of stunned silence, you knew.

“…Thanks? On behalf of all women, I guess?” He nodded, still not looking at you, which only added to your anxiety. “We’re good, right? Still friends of some sort?”

“Yeah.” He finally met your eyes.

You nodded. “Nice.”

And you walked ahead of him as if trying to outrun the light. You both tiptoed through the halls, setting the keys and flashlight back in your father’s room in the infirmary, and went into your own separate rooms.

As you laid down to sleep, the strangeness of the whole evening played in your mind. You had been so vulnerable with him, and he hadn’t thrown it back and spat it in your face; he let you talk about it for so long.

He didn’t blame you for what happened.

You never told anyone about that besides the people involved…

But he didn’t do the same. Yes, your friendship (of some sort) didn’t have to be where each of you dumped a lot of baggage on each other…but you still felt odd doing so.

You felt something in your stomach the more you thought about the whole night; being alone together and exploring the school as if you were both main characters in a novel, telling secrets in the dark…

You didn’t feel sick though; at least, not like when a boy touched you for the first time.

[anyarose011]

You're a Mean One, Miss Hunham {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Four days into being stuck in an all boy's school for Christmas break, and you're on the brink of insanity. If it's not because of Angus Tully still trying to one up you in history lessons, then it's Teddy Kountze getting a hand on something personal of yours (prick).

Part 2 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, mentions of pornography, blackmail, minor physical assault, and as always, Teddy Kountze.

You guys don't get to escape being an awkward af teenager just because it's fanfiction, so enjoy! Also, thank you all so much for the love already shown just from the first part alone!

Word Count: 5.0k

You always knew to put a pillow over your head when you heard your father get up from his bed.

“All right you fetid layabouts, it’s daylight in the swamp!” He smacked two metal basins against each other, waking the boys up if they weren’t already, groaning. “Arise!”

It was funny the first day, but by the fourth, it was unbearable. Still, a part of you was grateful for your father; you never had to get up early and run with the boys in the cold, Massachusetts air. Call it nepotism, call it sexism, you were just glad he didn’t want you to interact with them (physically, that is).

The second day you were there, he called you in during afternoon study hall (leaving you on a minor cliff hanger in Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre; forget that it was your third time reading it, it pissed you off). Just like he had done months ago, Paul Hunham hosted a trivia game (whether that was to show you off, or get them to study, you had no idea).

What idea you did have, was beating every single one of them.

For Alex and Ye-Joon, they were babies in your eyes, so you would give them more time to think on their answers whenever they were up. Alex got close on one, but overall, they didn’t do so well.

Oh, the boys your age? Yeah, you didn’t show mercy, even towards Jason.

“When was the last king overthrown?” Your father questioned.

You smacked the desk before Jason could even process the question. “509 B.C.”

“What planets are named after Roman gods?”

“Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn.” You recited it perfectly.

Teddy scrunched his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

Your father pursed his lips. “That was the easiest one I have, Mr. Kountze.”

Angus Tully…Angus. Fucking. Tully.

“What emperor temporarily restored peace to Rome and the cost of-?”

Angus hit the desk before your father could finish the question. “-Diocletian.”

“At its peak,” your father eyed you. “how large was the Roman Empi-?”

“2.3 million square miles.” You answered, keeping your eyes trained on Tully.

“Nero had five spouses in total, what was the name of the slave boy he-?”

“-Castrated and married,” you finished for him. “Sporus.”

Back and forth you both went like that, rapid fire at first, and your own levels of exhaustion were catching up to you. After perhaps five minutes of this (maybe ten, twenty, who gives a shit, you were tired), it was one damning question that would haunt you.

“True or false, the Pantheon was built before the Coliseum.”

“True.” You said, slapping the desk with the confidence of a mediocre man.

There was silence in the room, and your father sighed. “False.”

It wasn’t a big deal, it shouldn’t have been a big deal; to literally everyone else but you, it wouldn’t be a big deal.

But it was.

Oh, it was.

It was the second time you lost to Angus Tully overall, the first time from an easy question. Still, while Kountze’s grin made you want to rip out his teeth, it was Tully’s outstretched hand that caused you to snap out of it.

“Good job.”

Two of the most hurtful words in academia, whether it meant for it to be or not. Still, swallowing your pride, you shook his hand, and left the room gracefully.

Then started crying as you walked down the darkened hallway.

It wasn’t like you were weeping, you were just frustrated. Thankfully, by the time your friend Elise came to pick you up, you were fine and had a fun day simply walking around town with her.

You bought cigarettes and chocolate at the drug store, then spent the rest of the day at her house, laying on the floor and listening to records in her room while answering her prodding questions.

“Who’s the cutest one?”

“None, they’re men.”

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes, smiling. “I know that, but if you had to choose.”

“Like, ‘if we were the last man and woman on earth’ I had to choose?”

“Sure.”

“A very tall bridge.”

She laughed, shoving you playfully. “I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

“Really.”

Sighing heavily, you thought for a moment, before smiling. “He’s a football player.”

“What?!” She sat herself up. “You and a football player?!”

“Shut up!” You laughed with her, sitting up.

Elise shook her head. “What about the one you went head-to-head with in trivia today?”

“Ew,” was your immediate reaction. “he’s maybe your type, but not mine.”

“So, you don’t want a smart one?” She questioned. “And that’s mean of you.”

“I’m mean to everyone.” You laid back down on the floor. “And yes, of course I want someone who’s smart, but not smarter than me.”

She mirrored you, laying down and leaning her head against yours. “So, he’s out for the count?”

“One hundred percent.”

“If you say so.” Elise reached up onto her nightstand and handed you a letter. “Also, my aunt left something back at the faculty housing and said she found this in you and your dad’s mailbox.”

You looked at your name in the center of it, and then at the stamp: a toy train.

It took everything within you not to sit up in shock. All you did was smile, say thank you, and slip it into your coat pocket.

You gave Tully his chocolates and cigarettes and didn’t have a problem. It was the fourth day when your father had given them just another ounce of freedom outside of the school, allowing them to walk around the wooded area of campus. You still had your books, but you were also feeling lonesome (the only time you really interacted with any of them was during mealtimes, except for Teddy…fuck Teddy), and you had talked about almost every single thing you wanted to talk about with Mary (God bless that women for letting you read to her too).

So, on December 20th, you laced up your boots (not too tightly), pulled on your mittens, and zipped up your jacket to go on a miniature adventure with the five boys.

“I’m gonna teach you how to play football.” Jason teased you as the six of you walked two by two (you and him at the front).

Shaking your head, you smiled more so at the thought of what you’d look like than his obvious flirting (was he even flirting or just being nice? Decades pass, and you still aren’t sure). “Please no.”

“Come on, it’s easy.”

“Roman history is easy.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not; you’re just smart.”

“It’s easy to me. Football is easy to you, see what I’m getting at?”

Jason shrugged. “Suit yourself, Teddy?”

“Say no more.” He responded, brushing past you and running up ahead as Jason threw the football to him and he caught it.

That left you by yourself for just a moment before seeing Angus walk beside you. You turned your head over your shoulder to see Ye-Joon and Alex lagging behind as they talked.

“Boys,” you called them. “try and keep up!”

They responded with a chorus of ‘Yeah’s and ‘Sorry’s.

“So what, you’re like their mother now?” The second most irritating voice belonging to a boy asked.

You looked over at Angus, hands in his pockets as he gazed down at you. “You’re not exactly the nurturing type.”

“You don’t know that.”

Humming, you stepped over a log in the middle of the path. “So, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Jason’s here because of his hair, Alex and Ye-Joon’s family are in other continents, I don’t care nor want to know about Teddy, why are you here?”

He didn’t respond right away, before then saying. “I was supposed to go to St. Kitt’s with my mom and stepfather, but then they decided to say it was their honeymoon and ditch me.”

Your gaze turned to him and saw him pick up a stick, dragging it behind him to make a line in the snow. Even just from his profile, you could see the anger withing his eyes; bubbling more violently than a volcano about to erupt.

“That’s despicable.” You stated plainly.

“That’s one way to put it.” He scoffed.

You didn’t know exactly how to follow up such a personal conversation, but you wanted to make him feel better (at this point during the break, only because it was the decent thing to do), so you just said.

“You beat me fair and square both times.”

Angus looked at you. “Did I? At your dad’s bullshit trivia?”

“You did. Well actually, it was just me versus five of you, and I do believe the more I talk to Kountze, the more braincells I lose, so-.”

“-Don’t sell yourself short.”

You gave him a quizzical look. “I know, I was just telling you why I lost to you both times.”

He shrugged. “The first time you had to go against fifteen of us.”

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled, genuinely not believing it. “are you suddenly saying that you think I’m smart?”

“I never said you weren’t.” He gave you a look.

“Last time, you looked me in the eye and said you knew more than me.”

That’s what silenced him, and when he nor you said anything after that, you simply walked ahead of him. Hell yeah, you had the last word and made him feel like an asshole (you honestly didn’t know that was possible).

The six of you all caught up with one another, and you spoke with the freshmen boys more about meaningless things (but perhaps that’s what made it so meaningful). Angus, still carrying the stick like he was a child, and it was his favorite toy, said to Jason after talking about if there was anything else to do in Barton.

“What about your car? We could take it, go somewhere, Boston maybe?”

“Nah, we’d get in so much trouble.” He shook his head, nudging you. “Little miss perfect here would snitch on us.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “I would not. Besides, it’d be easier to say you all kidnapped me, and everyone would believe me.”

“Face it,” Jason passed the football back to Teddy. “we’re stuck.”

 “If we just had some way to get out of here.” Angus kicked a patch of snow. “Just split.”

Jason pointed towards the quad. “Well, you could put a chopper down right in the quad.”

“A what?” Angus furrowed his brow.

“Helicopter, dumbass.” Teddy mocked. “His old man’s the CEO of Pratt and Whitney.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, he’s go his own bird. He takes it from Stamford to the city every morning. Lands right in our back yard. Pilot’s name is Wild Bill.”

“Wild Bill?” Ye-Joon asked, amused.

“Yeah, flew to Haystack with it. Took the presents and everything. Minus me.”

“Flying with presents,” Alex spoke up. “like Santa Claus.”

That was perhaps the first time you smiled out of geniuses that day.

“Yeah. Just like Santa Claus.”

Jason whistled, and Teddy immediately dashed ahead of him and caught the ball once Jason threw it. The two drifted off playing catch, leaving you and Angus with the freshmen. Alex spoke just as whimsically as he did about Santa.

“If I was back home right now back in Provo, it would be really warm inside, and my mom would be making baked apples, and the whole house would smell like cinnamon and brown sugar.”

Ye-Joon smiled. “That sounds really nice.”

You nodded. “During finals week, I helped Mary and the other cooks bake cookies for you guys. I still think that’s one of my favorite smells of all time.”

“You helped out with that?” Angus asked.

Dropping your smile, you said. “Yeah, and if I knew which one you’d have taken I would’ve spat in it.”

Before he could even come up with a response, Teddy ran up to Alex and yanked the glove off his right hand. “Hey!”

“That’s what you get for ratting me out, you little Mormon!” He laughed before throwing it into the river.

You marched up to him immediately. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Like, what the actual fuck?”

Teddy only stuck his tongue out like a child before running back to catch up with Jason. A part of you (somehow) foolishly believed he would’ve berated Teddy for the obviously asshole act; but he didn’t.

Rolling your eyes, you went down to the river with Alex, hopefully trying to find the glove and be able to fish it out. Though, to no avail, you couldn’t find it.

“It’s gone!” He yelled back up to Angus and Ye-Joon. “My glove’s gone!”

“Twisted fucker orphaned that glove on purpose!” Angus responded. “Left you with one so the loss would sting that much more.”

Alex looked down at his hands before tugging off the other glove and throwing it into the river as well. You glared at Teddy as he had a fun time, still laughing and throwing the ball with Jason. Sighing, you looked back down at Alex and pulled off your mittens, handing them to him.

“Here.”

He glanced up at you before staring back out at the water, rubbing his nose. “I don’t need them.”

“Your fingers are frailer than mine.” You continued even when he gave you a look. “That’s not an insult, that’s a fact. It’s alright, I have pockets.”

Alex, after a moment of debating, took them from you and slipped them on, smiling. “Thanks.”

The six of you were on your way back to school when you felt someone slip their hand into your coat pocket.

“Now what do we have here?”

You turned on your heel, seeing Teddy’s face light up as he waved the letter in his hand. Your face dropped, along with your voice.

“No!”

Immediately, you began to chase him around the small, snowy clearing as if you were a dog and he was a car.

“Theodore fucking Kountze, give that back!” You commanded.

He ripped open the envelope. “Or what, Hunham? You’re gonna tell your dad on me?”

“Just give her the letter, idiot.” Angus rolled his eyes.

Of course, Kountze ignored him, taking the letter out, and money falling from the paper. That’s when he stopped in his tracks and so did you. For the first time since…a while, you were frozen, and you had no idea why.

The rest of the boys caught up to you two, and Teddy picked up the money that fell from the letter; a twenty, a ten, and a five-dollar bill. After the initial shock wore off, he read the letter aloud to everyone.  

“‘My dearest girl, how are you? It’s been a while, and I just want to know what you’ve been up to. Merry Christmas, here’s my gift to you. From, Daniel. P.S. Please send another picture of you if you could.’”

Shame crept in like a shaking animal from the cold, and you couldn’t even look at any of them. Still, that didn’t stop Teddy from taunting you; hell, it probably spurred him on.

“The hell kind of business are you running if you got a someone paying you thirty-five bucks?” He laughed, looking back at the guys. “You think she’s in a skin mag or something?”

“Hey, man, shut up.” Jason rebuked.

“No, I’m serious. They take pictures without showing the face sometimes.” He looked at you now. “Which one is it? Penthouse? Modern Man?”

“Leave it, Kountze.” You hissed, not looking at him.

Teddy laughed. “Don’t tell me it’s Playboy; you?”

 “Are you fucking deaf?” Angus asked. “She told you to cut it out.”

“Piss off Tully, you probably saw her tits this morning in study hall.”

You whipped your head around and couldn’t control the face you made; to this day, you still have no idea if it was pure rage, a form of betrayal, or both at once. Still, you watched as how Angus avoided your gaze like he’d done something wrong; he did, but still. Teddy opened his disgusting mouth to speak again.

“Shit, if I were to line up every girl in Barton, you would’ve been the very last one I-.”

“-I’ll let you take the picture.”

All eyes were back on you, and you looked right at Teddy’s; once confident and sly, now widened with surprise. Who knew it would take just six words for him to shut up?

“What?” Was all he responded.

You swallowed thickly, clutching your hands into fists to keep yourself calm (and to not cry). “I’ll let you take the picture of me, but we have to be alone, and you need to promise me you won’t tell anyone else; especially my father.”

This was not what you had envisioned or wanted to happen on your first outing with them away from the adults in your life. You prayed to whatever god above, Christian, Roman, Greek, Buddhist, it didn’t matter, you prayed that Teddy would grow a brain and take the deal.

“Alright.” Was all he said, shrugging with an excited smile on his face that made your skin crawl.

You nodded. “I’ll take my letter and money now.”

He tilted his head, walking closer to you. “Please.”

Taking a deep breath, you said. “Please.”

Teddy’s grin only deepened, then handed you your things. “You know, Hunham, maybe you’re not a total prude after-.”

Your fist met his eye, and the both of you stumbled backwards; him clutching his face, you your hand. Needless to say, you were both cursing. Still, you managed to gather your bearings and push him over.

“Fucking bastard.” You spat before trying to make a run for it.

Teddy grabbed your left foot, causing you to fall into the snow, your teeth sinking into your lip once you hit your chin on impact of the ground. You struggled, then managed to quickly wiggle out of your boot before getting back up and running like a girl (anyone would run like a girl if they were being chased by a man like Teddy Kountze).

You honestly have no idea how he didn’t catch up to you at the time, but you were on the steps of the main building when you turned back. There they were, just five, not-so-little specks that stood out across the valley of pure white snow. It was only when you slowed down did you notice how cold your left foot was. Your sock was dripping wet from the snow, and you then pulled off your other boot, leaving it on the stairs before entering the school.

Taking a deep breath once you closed the door, you wiped your mouth; specks of blood colored your hand, but thankfully, not that much. Sighing, you walked through the halls of the school, trying to make your way back to the infirmary and hoping that your father wasn’t there.

You ran into Mary instead (a fate worse than death).

“Where are your shoes?” Was the first thing she asked once she saw you in the main hall (you got lost; hey, you’d only been there a few times in the past, don’t be too hard on yourself).

You shrugged, smiling. “We were playing a game.”

“What kind of game?”

“Hide and seek tag.” you leaned against the wall, hands in your coat pockets. “First one to get to the school wins, I hid my shoes under a bush, so they thought I was there, and I made a run for it.”

“You take a fall then? Your mouth’s bleeding.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never slipped on ice?” You managed to joke.

She arched her brow, placing her hands on her hips. “Do you know how long I’ve known you?”

It actually took you a few moments to think back on it; it felt like you’ve known her longer, but no. “Since I was nine?”

“And do you think, in the last eight years, I haven’t been able to tell if you’re a bad liar or not?”

“…Well, am I?”

“Did one of those boys put their hands on you?” She asked the question you both knew was coming. “Was it that shitass Kountze?”

Even with it being a serious question, you laughed (both from surprise and discomfort). “Well like, you should see the hands I put on him. Mary, we were just playing, it’s fine.”

The main door opened before she could say anything else, and you saw the same five boys walk in; Ye-Joon holding your boots. You smiled, approaching them as if nothing was wrong, and you took your shoes. “Thank you.”

He nodded, quickly looking away.

“You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” Mary spoke up behind you, and your heart dropped for a moment as well as all of their faces. “I get that you were playing a game, but you don’t need to be so competitive.”

They turned to one another, obviously confused about the whole thing (you were as well). Still, she continued. “Yeah, little miss Hunahm told me everything. Hide and seek, tag, I don’t care what it was, you all need to be just careful with each other. Poor girl over here took a fall, and I see you did too, mister Kountze.”

At his name, Teddy turned away. Angus spoke up. “We’ll be careful next time, miss Lamb.”

“Please, we’re on vacation; just Mary.” She looked at you. “You’re gonna help me with dinner later, right?”

“I will.”

“Good, stay out of trouble.”

“No promises.”

With that, Mary left through one of the doors leading to the teacher’s lounge. The moment she did, Teddy hissed at you.

“What the hell was that?!”

Rolling your eyes you said. “Didn’t you hear? We were playing a stupid game.”

“You mean you punched me in the face.”

“You blackmailed me into doing something I wouldn’t have wanted to do; we can keep going.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a-.”

“-A what?”

He stopped to your surprise, then changed his tone. “I just don’t think your father would be proud of the choices you’ve made.”

On one hand, damn, those words cut deep enough to almost make you bleed; but on the other hand…

“Are you gonna tell him?” You asked, trying not to sound like you gave a shit.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “I mean, unless you’re gonna say sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You laughed. “Beating the shit out of you? You started it. Besides, who’s he going to believe?”

Silence was what you were met with. Even at the sight of his face, you only continued to grin. “Teddy, come on, you start ‘not fights’, we all know. It’s not a hard question, I thought you were smarter than this?”

He sighed. “You.”

“Exactly; you’re my bitch, Kountze.” You walked backwards, a little skip in your step. “Don’t you forget that.”

Turning away, you retreated to the infirmary, grabbing your books and escaping to the library in hopes of not having to see any of them for the rest of the day.

Men…so exhausting.

You managed to disappear into the world of The Yellow Wallpaper (not necessarily lighthearted reading, but it was still interesting) and a chapter of The Two Towers before Mary called you down to help with dinner.

After another strange but not so subtle comment from her (“You know you can be honest with me, right? I am with you.”), it was quiet between the both of you. That’s what you always loved with cooking and baking; the quietness, even if you were with one other person. You both just worked in tandem and it was almost frightening how you would both know to move out of the way of each other without saying a word.

Dinner was uneventful; somehow, your father hadn’t noticed the slight bruising on your lip, or Teddy’s eye (the color would probably start to show as days went on, but that was a future problem for you). Not one of the boys your age talked to you; even then, the freshmen kept to themselves a lot too.

So, it was quite a surprise to you, as there was “supervised leisure time” in the library, when Jason Smith sat across from you at the table.

“Hey.” He said softly.

You looked up from Jane Eyre. “Hello.”

“So…” He almost looked nervous (initially about what, you will never know). “you really gave Teddy shit today.”

Tilting your head to the side, you went. “Yeah? Well…he kind of threatened me.”

“No of course. Just…wow.” He chuckled. “You really held him off.”

Nodding, you honestly had no idea what to think. Was he complementing you? In shock? All you were doing was staying silent at this awkward exchange when he asked. “You okay?”

“Huh?”

“Just that, I can’t really read you right now. Did I say something weird?”

“No.” You shook your head, then said. “Well, yes. Sorry, I just…” You tried again. “Thank you, I think? But um…do you want me to be honest?”

“Sure.”

“I’m kind of…no, I am mad none of you stepped in. Maybe not mad but…I don’t know.”

“Well,” he began. “we told him to stop.”

“So did I, but he didn’t.” You wanted to say, but you only knew saying something true would make it worse (this is why you couldn’t be outnumbered by men; it’d make you scared). Instead, you settled on.

“I know, and thanks, but it still would’ve been nice for some help.”

He shrugged. “You seemed to have it handled.”

Six words you thought (and prayed) you’d never hear again; and he said them with a nonchalant shrug. As if, by now, he was already bored and annoyed with a conversation he had started. Perhaps you were reading too much into that last part, perhaps he didn’t mean to come off as callous; but he was still oblivious at the end of the day.

“Look,” he interrupted your overflowing mind when he saw how much it was affecting you. “if it helps, he tried to run after you when you punched him, but Tully and I held him back.”

You took a deep breath as his words sunk in. Then, you chuckled bitterly. “How nice of you to not let him beat me to a pulp.”

He shook his head. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Angry? Pissed off?”

“Irritational.”

Your jaw actually dropped. “What?”

He said your name, shaking his head and lowering his voice as if you both hadn’t been quiet already. “Look, Kountze is a dick, we know that. But come on, he said some horrible stuff, and you punched him. That doesn’t really add up.”

“…He threatened me.”

“You basically invited him to take a picture of you alone. I mean, yeah it was to bate him, but still.”

No further questions, you picked up your book and your jacket. Without another word and ignoring how he tried to call you back with a soft tone of voice as he said your name, you walked out of the library without another thought.

Your father asked you about it of course, but all you said was that Jason spoiled a book you were looking forward to reading. He believed you and wished you goodnight, leaving you to lie in your bed and be stuck in your thoughts until snoring reached your ears.

You waited a few more minutes before you stood up, gathering your blanket to wrap around you. As you walked down the hall, the nagging thought of ‘Do I even feel safe in there?’ invaded your mind when you only realized that you were going to be in a room with both Jason and Teddy. You were outside of the hall for longer than you would imagine, when you heard quiet voices on the other side of the wall.

“…I had an accident.”

“Yeah, you did. Shh, stop crying. If they hear you, they’ll crucify you. Which would be ironic, since you’re Buddhist.”

You had to cover your mouth from the unexpected line. How…strange it was to hear Angus Tully be this comforting. You heard the smaller voice again and heard that it was Ye-Joon.

“I know it’s an excellent school, and my brothers went here. But I miss my family, and I have no friends.” His voice broke at the end, and so did a piece of your heart.

Then, Angus with his words of wisdom, said. “Yeah, well, friends are overrated. I’ll help you hide the sheets in the morning, all right? In the meantime, find a dry spot, and try to get some sleep.”

“Thank you.”

You gave it a few moments, still reeling over the gentleness of it all, before entering into the light of the infirmary room. You knocked lightly on the door frame not to frighten anyone.

Angus turned over his shoulder, and somehow didn’t jump when he saw you.

“Hi.” You greeted.

“Hey.” He responded, trying to act like his common, moody self.

You wanted to acknowledge what you heard; tease him (but not in an unkind way) about him being nice, ask him why, in the dead of night, was he like this and not in the daytime? Still, all you could manage was the basic.

“Is everything alright?”

He nodded. “Yeah, just nightmares, you know.”

“No,” you shook your head, deciding to lighten and grace the room with your sarcasm. “I’ve never had one in my life.”

Angus seemed to catch on, and it surprised you greatly to see him actually smile. “Nobody likes a bragger.”

“So that’s why you don’t have any friends.”

…Too much; too much sarcasm.

Both of your smiles fell, and you wanted nothing more than to shrivel up like a leaf and die in front of him, then have someone sweep out the crumbs of your body and then them on fire in the snow before burying the ashes.

You still can’t believe you came up with that metaphor quicker before you could say. “I’m just gonna…”

He nodded. “Yep.”

“Goodnight.”

“’Night.”

You scurried into the other room and under the covers of the bed. The fear of Teddy and Jason no longer was the thing keeping you up at night in that room; it was the worst possible thing you could’ve said to Angus Tully of all people.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

[anyarose011]

Bah, Humbug! {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Realizing you are stuck over winter break in the school your father (with many nicknames such as: Rat Bastard, Colossal Asshole, or the most popular, Walleye) teaches at, you try to make the best of it. Or, at least the best you can make it with five other boys your age

Part 1 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, feminism (abandon all hope ye who enter if this has to be a warning), sarcastic reader, Teddy Kountze, and casual racism (a subsection to Teddy Kountze)

You've heard of "Paul Hunham being a father figure" now I present to you: "Paul Hunham being a girl-dad and an academic rivals to lovers with Angus Tully". I became obsessed with this movie, and decide to add my own spin onto it. It's also my first time writing for Tumblr, so I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 4.8k

“You said we were going to Copenhagen this year.”

The first nine words you said to your father after he told you about the predicament the both of you were in.  He sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“I know.” You haven’t heard him trying to be this understanding since…you couldn’t recall. “I don’t want to be stuck here just as much as you-.”

“-So then just say no.”

He scoffed, yet still smiled. “It’s a stupid lottery, and my name got picked.”

“Bullshit-.”

“-Hey.” He warned.

Sighing, you glanced out your window. Thin specks of snow were falling onto the already pure as white ground, cascading down the roofs of houses. At least it was snowing and would resemble somewhat of a nice Christmas.

“Can we at least do something fun?” You questioned.

“I thought you said men don’t deserve to have fun the same way they think women don’t deserve rights?”

“Do the boys you teach think the same?” You looked at him.

He shrugged. “Not really in my field of work to get to know them.”

“Wonderful.” You rolled your eyes.

Your father squeezed your shoulder. “Yes, we can have little activities that children your age would consider fun. Still, I vow to enhance their intellect and schoolwork, considering that most of them are…lackluster.”

“Does this mean that I’ll get to drag their asses in mythology trivia?”

“In colloquial terms, yes.”

That brought a smile to your face, and you got up from your bed. “I think I’ll make dinner tonight if that’s alright?” You didn’t wait for him to answer as you left the room. “Maybe pie? I know Mary taught me-.”

“-Woah, woah, woah.” He followed you out into the hallway, stopping you. “We’re not eating here.”

You blinked, the only sound forming from your throat being. “Huh?”

He sighed as if going to tell you the worst news in the world (at the time, oh boy, was it). “They’re cutting the power to the faculty housing, so we’re going to be living at the school over winter break.”

Your face drops along with your heart, shock settling in. “Say that again?”

“We’re going to be living at the school-.”

“-No I heard you.”

“Then why did you ask me to repeat myself?”

“You’re telling me,” you bring on the drama, raising your voice. “I have to lodge with teenage boys?! The cursed sex?!”

He sighed. “You won’t be sleeping in the same room as them-.”

“-I can’t even look at you right now.” You pushed past him, going back into your room and tossing yourself onto your bed.

“Countess Natalya,” he taunts tiredly, knowing you hope your melodramatic attitude would wear him down. “we don’t have a choice.”

You point at him, not bringing your face up from your pillow. “Don’t you dare bring Natasha into this, she would react the same way!”

He laughed. “You get your stubbornness from your mother.”

“I get it from my father!” That’s what made you turn and bring your head up.

There’s a silence with tenseness lacing it like icing on a cake. Paul Hunham’s sigh of frustration broke it, approaching you. “Whether we like it or not, we’re stuck here. Whether we like it or not, we’re going to have to endure the attitude of pubescent boys who, I guarantee you, even when their frontal lobes form at twenty-five, will still be inconsiderate, full of themselves, and not know what true hard work is…We don’t get to do things we want all the time, that’s the reality of the situation.”

You still wore the same, spiteful look on your face as he told you this; as if you were a little girl being told, no, you can’t stay up until midnight tonight. Then, once he was finished, the look subsided only a little.

“I hate you.” Was your reply.

He ruffled your hair. “You’re the light of my life too, Jo March.” With that, he stood up with a pleasant smile. “But no worries, I don’t expect you to deal with the inadequacy of the male testosterone.” He then left the room, and you could hear his voice echo. “Now pack your things; clothes, toiletries, your books above everything, I know.”

He still continued to ramble, but in all honestly, it wasn’t important enough to this day for you to remember. All that was going through your head, was that you were going to spend almost a month in a musty, falling apart, preparatory school, with who knew how many musty teenage boys.

It was then you started planning how exactly you’d fly to Copenhagen by yourself.

That only lasted for about two minutes when you realized that your father had your passport locked in a safe with his, and you weren’t really in the mood to lockpick that day (or learn how to for that matter). So instead, you spent the majority of the time packing your suitcase, and your father was right; your books were the most important ones you’d pack.

You didn’t initially plan on socializing with the boys, so you nearly brought your entire library of books to entertain yourself; the only thing stopping you from bringing all of it was, besides your father, the copious amounts of clothing. You didn’t quite like planning out what outfit you’d wear for each day, so it was better to be safe and bring choices.

Your father had gone ahead of you to help the Boys Left Behind (a title you wouldn’t tell anyone for a few years), settle in. Settle in being him being your father and setting the ground rules whilst running that school like the damn Navy. So, there you were, walking through the ankle-deep snow with your backpack and suitcase that was meant for Copenhagen.

The school only had a few buildings; two dormitories for the boys, a small shack for the maintenance, the chapel, and one large building consisting of all the classrooms, dining hall, infirmary, and whatever else was needed for a rich, all American boy education system.

Perhaps you’d gotten a taste of what the American Revolutionists felt at Valley Forge when you heard a voice call.

“Hey!”

You looked up from where you stood and saw five boys near the courtyard by a pickup truck. Your blood, if not already freezing from the winter snow, ran cold at the sight. The same boy yelled again.

“Do you need help, are you lost?”

You shook your head, pitching our voice up a bit higher and shouting back.

“No, thank you!”

Trying to continue on your way, you looked up again to see one of them running towards you. Cursing to yourself, you tried to keep your head low and pick up the pace, but you got to see him one he was closer to you. His face was boyish, and you first thought he was a sophomore at first. His hair to his shoulders, something you didn’t expect to see for someone attending such a prestigious school. And…damn it all, he was attractive (for a boy your age).

“Hi,” he greeted you warmly with his hand out. “Jason Smith.”

You looked at it for a moment (still a bit blindsided how someone at this school could be so genuine) before shaking and giving him your name. He shook his head, chuckling as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket.

“You’re Hunham’s daughter?”

Oh…perhaps you shouldn’t have told him that. Still, you tried to let it roll off your back and played it cool, laughing along with him. “Yeah, I’m stuck over here with you guys.”

“Well, hopefully we won’t get on your nerves too badly. Do you want me to carry that for you?” He offered.

“Oh.” You looked down at your suitcase and handed it to him. “Go ahead, thank you.”

Jason took it, and the both of you began to make your trek up the small hill with the truck. He was being a gentleman, so you decided to keep the conversation going.

“So, why’re you here?”

He shrugged. “My family usually goes skiing for the holidays, but my old man won’t let me go until I cut my hair.”

“That’s really mean of him.” You stated.

Jason snorted “You should tell him that.”

“I will.”

“Oh yeah?”

“For sure.” You went ahead of him, turning around and walking backwards up the hill. “Give me his number and I’ll give him a stern talking to.”

That only made him laugh harder. “You should study to be a lawyer; you make a great case.”

“My father said the same thing once; I just personally have a theory that all parents tell their children they’d be good lawyers because they argue with them. As if it’s not a child’s right to argue.”

“You’re well-spoken too.”

“For a woman?”

You saw panic pale his face. “What?”

A smile couldn’t help but make its way to your mouth. “Only teasing.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Scared me for a moment.”

“Yeah?” You joked, turning back over your shoulder as you felt yourself at the top of the summit. “I usually get that a lot. That’s why my da-.”

Once your eyes drifted up to see the rest of the Boys Left Behind, your words fell silent. The youngest ones, who you assumed to be freshman, you did not recognize but knew immediately they would be kinder than the two whom you already knew.

Teddy ‘I only lost because I went easy on you’ Kountze, and Angus ‘I know more than you’ Tully.

These motherfuckers.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Angus groaned.

Teddy merely blinked, as if he couldn’t believe it. “What’re you doing here?”

“She’s Walleye’s kid, idiot.” Angus pointed out. “Of course she’d be here.”

Jason looked between the three of you. “You know each other?”

With whatever self-control you had (and you barely had any), you kept calm. “They’re just sore losers I met months ago.”

Teddy rolled his eyes. “Hunham wasn’t proud of us after one test, so he called in her one day, and we had to basically go up against her in some bullshit trivia match.”

“Wait,” Jason looked back at you. “so it was you versus the entire class?”

You stood proudly. “Uh huh.”

“Lost to this dickwad of all people.” Teddy slapped Angus’ back. “We couldn’t believe she met her match; she tore apart almost everyone else in class.”

 “So then why are you acting like you did any better?” You tried your best to sound as if you were joking but were also dead serious.

He scoffed. “Doesn’t matter if I did; you still lost.”

Rolling your eyes, they soon fell onto the youngest pair, staring up at you as if in study. You smiled, holding out your hand, introducing yourself. “What’re your names?”

The one with glasses and black hair shook yours first. “Ye-Joon.”

Then the boy paler than a lightbulb and cheeks turning red from the cold. “Alex.”

“And what’re you two doing here?”

Ye-Joon spoke first. “My family is in Korea, and they think it’s too far for me to travel alone.”

“I figured it was because your rickshaw was broken.” Teddy snickered.

“What’s a rickshaw?”

You shrugged, despite knowing what it was. “Not sure, I am sure that he’s an idiot though.”

Teddy acted as if you were flirting with him. “Highest compliment I’ve ever gotten from you.”

“What about you?” Jason questioned. “You’re Hunham’s kid, but do you go to school in town or…?”

“Homeschooled.” You weren’t the one who responded. All eyes went to Agnus Tully, still smoking a cigarette and averting his eyes from everyone. “Which checks out.”

You tilted your head, hiding your growing nerves with a surprised smile. “Aw, look at that; Frankenstein’s Monster does have the capacity to memorize things.”

The only one who laughed was Teddy, and you almost wanted to take it back.

Angus just shook his head. “Look, I don’t know what kind of schtick it is to be the angry girl, but it doesn’t look nice on you.”

“Hey, leave the lady alone.” Jason stepped in.

“Lady?” He said the word as if it was foreign to call you that.

“Yes,” you agreed with Jason despite how much you didn’t want to, but your desire to humble Angus Tully outweighed your morals (a reoccurring theme for the Winter of 1970). “I’m a lady.”

“For how much you start fights, I wouldn’t call you one.”

“Ladies do not start fights, but they can sure as hell finish them.”

He merely rolled his eyes and went back to smoking. Fair enough…him not engaging only made him look like the bigger person. Still, it wasn’t worth it for you to continue beating a tall, dead, dumb, horse with curly hair.

“What’s your story?” Jason asked Alex.

“Oh,” he sounded shocked. “my parents are on a mission in Paraguay. We’re LDS.”

“Mormons, right?”

Teddy asked before he could respond. “Do you guys wear some kind of magic underwear?”

You turned to Jason and whispered as Alex went into an explanation. “I’m going to slap him into next semester the next time some stupid shit leaves his mouth.”

He tried to hide his smile. “I don’t think any of us would mind, to be honest.”

“Hey,” Teddy interrupted. “what’s with the townies?”

Everyone turned to the chapel and saw two men carrying the Christmas tree out. Agnus yelled. “Excuse me! What are you doing with our Christmas tree?”

“The school sold it back to us!” He responded. “Scotch pine, still fresh.”

The other one added. “Yeah, we’re gonna put it back on the lot. Do it every year.”

“This is the most bullshit ever.” Angus shook his head, then looking at you. “Did you know about this?”

You couldn’t even respond right away, the question was so ludicrous. “I had no idea about being stuck here with you idiots until about an hour ago, so I naturally knew the townies would steal your Christmas tree.”

“Unbelievable.” He muttered under his breath, putting out the cigarette and heading towards the main building.

The rest of the boys’ gaze drifted to you, and all you said was. “Do you think he’d believe me if I told him they worked for the Grinch?”

You were more than halfway through A Christmas Carol when you were in the room you shared with your father in the infirmary. He was chatting with Mary, the head cook and the closest woman you would have to a mother figure, downstairs, leaving you by yourself.

Not exactly.

In the next room, you knew Alex, Ye-Joon, and Angus shared one, and then Teddy and Jason. They were quiet for the most part, save for Kountze tossing a tennis ball against the wall, but it stopped bothering you after a few minutes.

 You’d read the Charles Dickens’ tale a million times, but you couldn’t help and see how many similarities Angus Tully shared with Ebenezar Scrooge. It would be a lie if anyone were to ever claim you didn’t have hobbies; what would they call you assigning fictional characters to real people?

You found yourself beginning to pace around the room the more you read. Whilst voices raising in the background grew louder, you didn’t know exactly what had been happened until you wandered in on Tully and Kountze having a fight you could only summarize as it being straight out of Lord of the Flies.

You knew how that story ended, so with one look, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Finding a quiet corner outside of the infirmary, you thought you were safe when-.

Your father yelled your name. “Could you come here, please?”

Roling your eyes, you yelled back. “You told me not to deal with the inadequacy of the male testosterone, so that’s what I’m doing!”

He called for you again, and you groaned, bookmarking where you were and marching back to the infirmary. All five boys and your father stood before you, and you leaned against the doorframe, making it known you wanted to be anywhere but there.

Paul Hunham sighed. “You wouldn’t happen to know who started this ‘Not fight’ mister Ollerman described to me?”

Your eyes drifted to Tully (for reasons, you had no idea), who simply glared back at you. You could’ve done it…lied about him starting it even though you had no idea; it’s what he deserved for being an ass you to that day, and for winning months ago.

But, where you were a bitch, you were also just.

“No,” you stated. “I don’t know.”

He thinned his lips, turning back to everyone. “All right then, we’ll do it like the Roman Legions. Absent a confession, one man’s sin is every man’s suffering. For every minute the truth is withheld, you will all receive a detention.”

“And I thought all the Nazis were hiding in Argentina.” Angus mumbled.

“Stifle it, Tully.” Your father refuted.

You shrugged (this somehow being the first time you agreed with Angus Tully). “He’s got a point; you’re breaking the Geneva Convention if you do.”

“The what?” Teddy scrunched his nose.

“Well,” Your father sighed as he said your name. “if you want to have an opinion on the matter, you can join them as well.”

“I don’t even go here!”

“Well, you’re standing under the roof right now. Now in the first of said detentions, you will clean the library. Top to bottom. Scraping the underside of the desks, which are caked with snot and gum and all manner of ancient, unspeakable proteins. On your hands and knees, down in the dust, breathing in the dead skin of generations of students and desiccated cockroach assholes.”

“It was Kountze!” Little Alex pointed to him. “Kountze started it!”

While the guilty party in question’s face had dropped, you watched as your father’s brightened. “Bravo, Mister Ollerman. Bravo.”

It must’ve off put Mary how you were smiling in the kitchen when you picked up the pitcher of water and bread as she got the platters of chicken and potatoes and asparagus.

Still, she asked. “How bad of a day was it for you to be smiling as you serve the men at the table?”

“Eh,” you began. “I would rather be on a plane to Copenhagen right now, but being stuck at this hell hole with you makes it tolerable; better, even.

Mary smiled at that. “Feeling’s mutual, Jane Bennett.”

“I’m Lizzie.” You playfully whined.

“And I can’t be bothered to finish that book.” She teased, and the two of you were beginning to make your way to the dining hall.

“Speaking of books, do you have another one I could borrow?” You asked.

“Already?” Mary sounded surprised. “I gave you that book last week.”

“And I finished it in a few days, I just haven’t had the chance to ask you.”

She shook her head as you pushed through the door out into the dining hall, holding it for her. “I’ll recommend the Bible next time to keep you occupied for longer.”

“I think I’ll stick with James Baldwin, if that’s alright.” You jested, then seeing Jason’s lips move as he asked a question, Teddy responded, and then your father spoke quite loudly.

“Consider yourselves lucky. During the third Punic campaign, 149-146 B.C., the Romans laid siege to Carthage for three entire years. By the time it ended, the Carthaginians were reduced to eating sand and drinking their own urine. Hence the term punitive.”

You and Mary set down the food, and you scrunched your nose in disgust at your father’s ‘fun fact’ while sitting beside Jason and facing Angus. It took everything in your bones not to burst out in laughter to see Teddy Kountze sitting at the edge of the table like a toddler having a silent tantrum.

“Thank you, Mary.” Your father greeted as everyone began to serve themselves. “Would you maybe care to join us?”

Oh, the look of distaste on Teddy’s face nearly made you lose it. Mary took notice immediately, and she offered a meek smile. “No, I’m alright, thank you.”

The same moment the door to the kitchen closed when she left was when Teddy turned to all of you, whispering as if it would help. “I mean…I know she’s sad about her son and everything, but still, she’s being paid to do a job. And she should be doing it well, right?”

If it weren’t for the fact you were chewing on a piece of chicken, and that your father was just two seats away from you, you would’ve given him a piece of your mind. The glare in your eyes would have to suffice.

Still, he opened his dumb mouth to continue. “But I guess, no matter how bad of a cook she is, they can never fire her.”

“Will you shut up?!” Your father hit the table so hard, silverware flew. You’d seen this rage from him before…but it still made you jump. “You have no idea what that woman has been through-!”

His gaze turned to you, and saw the look that could only belong to you in moments like that; where you stiffened yourself and hardened your eyes to look as if you did not know what fear meant. Yet, there was still an undeniable amount of terror even within those eyes you tried to have been the most fearless.

He reigned himself back in. “You know, Mr. Kountze, for most people, life is like a henhouse ladder; shitty and short. You were born lucky. Maybe someday you entitled little degenerates will appreciate that. If you don’t, I feel sorry for you, and we will not have done our jobs. Now eat.”

The boys obeyed, keeping their heads low. You felt your heart go back to itself, and as you were returning to eating, you heard an irritating voice mumble.

“Not our fault her kid was one of the poor bastards to be drafted.”

It took you three seconds to find Teddy’s foot under the table, and one for you to step on it with all your weight.

He jolted, cursing under his breath before looking at you. “The hell?!”

You feigned innocence, a potato on your fork. “Oh, was that your foot? I’m so sorry.”

Teddy’s eyes tried to burn through your skin as you continued to eat, but you barely felt them. The eyes you did feel on you were soon gone when you looked across from where you sat.

There was Angus Tully, keeping his head down as if he was a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

…Interesting…

What else were you supposed to think?

You finished A Christmas Carol by the time your father forced you to turn out the lights (and then confiscated your flashlight from under your bed…had to think of a better hiding spot). It always took you a while to go to sleep (still does, some nights).

As you laid in darkness, your mind would rush with the worlds you vowed to lose yourself in through the books you read. Frodo had Middle Earth, Emma had Highbury, and you had…Barton, Massachusetts.

Not even Concord like the March Sisters, just plain old Barton.

So, naturally, when your mind had tired itself from living these fantasies, and as you were about to drift off to sleep, your father’s snoring awoke you.

You hadn’t even noticed he came into the room, only when he started snoring to wake the dead. Sighing heavily, you tossed yourself out of bed, and used what moonlight coming in from the windows as your guide. Not long after, you saw that Angus and the freshmen boys drew the short end of the stick in their room choice; there were no curtains to the windows, causing the lamplights to bleed into the room, making it an unfavorable color of piss yellow.

That’s when your eyes drifted to where Jason and Teddy were; a little light peering in from their window facing the moon, and correspondingly, the other bedroom, but still quite dark. Closest to the door…a spare bed.

Yes, it was by Teddy, but your father’s snoring being fainter in that room was enough for you.

But again…it was by Teddy.

So, swallowing your pride, your eyes darted around for a solution, and they landed on Frankenstein’s Monster right behind you. Sighing to yourself, you turned back around into his room, and after thinking of what to say, you shook him awake.

He was somehow relaxed at first when he opened his eyes to see you; but that was just shock, he nearly fell out of bed when his vision adjusted.

“What the hell?!” He gasped, sitting up.

You shushed him, sitting on the edge of his bed. “I need a favor.”

He blinked, looking around to just double check where he was; nope, it wasn’t a bad dream, yep, he was still at Barton. “You appear like one of the fucking ghosts from A Christmas Carol, what could it possibly be?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, Ebenezar Scrooge, my dad snores like he’s trying to be the Giant from Jack and the Beanstalk, and I can’t sleep in there. So, I’m gonna go sleep in the other room, and you gotta wake me up or I’m dead.”

Angus Tully stared at you as if your head had grown horns. “I have no idea what you just said right now because you woke me up at,” he turned and looked at his watch. “oh look, 1am.”

Sighing you bit back a response only because you needed something from him. “Look; I want to actually be able to sleep, and I know I won’t at all if I’m stuck in a room with my dad all night. I’ll sleep in the extra bed in the other room, and you wake me up so that none of us will be killed if I oversleep in a room with teenage boys.”

It’s more than obvious he understood, but he then asked. “Why not just ask one of the guys in the room you’re sleeping in?”

“I don’t trust Kountze with anything and Jason…”

Damn your exhaustion for not being able to come up with a good explanation besides-.

“You like him.” Angus’ face lit up with a teasing glee that unnerved you somehow more than Teddy’s entire existence did that day.

“No!” You immediately deny. “I mean, yes, but in a way that of course I like him because he’s the only one of you assholes who are nice to me. So, I don’t like like him.”

You liar.

Angus scoffed, yet his shit eating grin was still on his face. “What are you, twelve?”

“I was about to ask the same thing since you’re so interested.” You rolled your eyes.

“So why me?” He asked. “You like the freshmen, don’t you trust them more?”

“I like them and actually want them to sleep.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Sighing you said. “I’ll give you whatever you want; not whatever you fucking perve but-.”

“-I never even thought of it like-.”

“-Sure, you didn’t.” You interrupted. “But I got a friend in town, so I can always go and get you stuff. What do you want?”

He took his time thinking; so much time you were tempted to wake Mary up and beg her to let you sleep in her room (you knew she would've let you, but you didn't want to disturb her. You also never questioned your father why he didn't initially have you sleep in Mary's room; more than likely just to give her her own space). Finally, he answered.

“Chocolate and cigarettes.” The look you gave him would’ve made you laugh if you could see it. It only made him scrunch his eyes. “What?"

“That’s it?”

“I'm running out of both, big deal." He scoffed. "Am I allowed to change my mind after each time you pay me? Besides, when will you?”

You shrugged. “I can’t go out every day. I’ll see if he’ll let me the day after tomorrow, so I can stock up then. How about…every three days you wake me up, that’s when I give you stuff. Sound good?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Holding out your hand, you were surprised he shook it right away. You looked him dead in the eyes when you said. “If any of them try to do anything to me while I sleep, I’m using their own pillow to suffocate them; that goes for you too, clear?”

“Crystal.” He drew his hand away. “I won’t say anything either.”

You nodded in thanks, standing up. Before you could tiptoe to the other room, you looked back at him. “Wake me up at six-thirty; he’ll wake you all up at seven.”

When you turned your back again, he asked in an unsettled fashion. “How?”

You knew that he hated the light flooding the room for a different reason now; to see your smile of mischief before you left.

[anyarose011]

A lot of us probably by now know that “Purpose is Glorious” sounds a lot similar to “Agape”, and I took liberty of mixing the two to the best of my ability. I just wanted to share it, and I personally think it’s beautiful :)